Red, Red Wine...

I never thought these words would come out of my mouth (or my computer keyboard, as the case may be) but I think I have had enough wine to last me awhile.  A long while.  Don't get me wrong, I still love my wine.  But after spending 3 1/2 days touring wineries and having wine with lunch and dinner, I think we need a break from each other.  Especially the reds.  I am just not as young as I once was and starting to drink at 10 am has lost it's appeal.  And I know that tasting is supposed to be just "tasting" and not "drinking", but it just doesn't work that way, at least not for me.  I can't see throwing away something that tastes so good.  And it did taste good.  Oh. so. good.

The Colchagua Valley lived up to it's reputation and then some.  If you haven't heard of their reputation I will summarize -  the valley's wines were ranked #2 in the world by Wine Spectator Magazine in 2004 and it was Wine Enthusiast's Wine Region of the Year in 2005.  Wines from the region have made the list every year since.  But that is all lost on me.  As much as I love wine, I am no connoisseur.  I have drunk enough wine in my time to know what I like, don't like and will never drink again, but I couldn't tell you why.  I like to call myself a "wine slut"...I will try anything once.   These were not my first tastings, but some of my first tours, since in Southern California, wine tasting rarely consists of anything more than walking in, paying for your glass, and tasting at your discretion.  The person behind the counter is knowledgeable, but you aren't really there to learn too much, you are there to get in your drinks and move on.  Not in Chile.  Here, they take their tasting seriously, and not a single drop is going to pass over your palate, until you have appreciated all the work that went into making the wine.  Rightly so.  There is a lot of work and time involved...though I am sure I am still underestimating it as all but one of my tours was conducted in Spanish.  I learned a lot though, including the fact that I can follow about 90% of a wine tour, given in Spanish, even after the equivalent of about a bottle of red.  And all you were getting out of Colchagua was a red.  (The whites are made in another location about 1 1/2 hours from Santiago in a Valley called Casablanca).

I love the Reds - all of them.  (I even named my cat Shiraz).  And I added a new one to the list this week - the Carmenere.  It is the signature wine of Chile.  The grape was thought to be extinct in the mid-19th century when a nasty bug destroyed it in Europe.  It then reappeared about 100 years later in Chile, unknowingly mixed in with a crop of Merlot vines that were brought in to the country.  It has thrived ever since because of the perfect combination of climate, soil and long growing season.  It is one of the deepest, darkest and purplest (is that a word?) of grapes and the end product can be compared to a Meaty Merlot with a hint of Spicy Cabernet (I told you, I learned something!).   If you can get your hands on the Montes' Purple Angel (this means you, Luciana, Nichole and Lisa) please, get a couple of bottles.  If you don't care for it, no worries, I will drink them for you when we come back to visit!  Because perhaps the saddest part (for me, not for most of you), is that I live in Chile where it is very hard to get your hands on the best of Chilean wines.  They export most of it.  And with a 35% IVA/Tax rate, it is cheaper to buy the best of Chile in the USA anyway.

But the trip wasn't all about the wine.  OK, yes it was, but it was also a family trip so we hit 2 museums, did a couple of carriage rides, a cable car and spent a lot of quality time just playing around as a family.  In kid terms, it means that they had no idea that they were on an adult vacation and had a great time.  I took a ton of pictures to prove it, but can't possibly post all of them here.  Today I am going to post the "winery" pictures...tomorrow, the fun family snaps.

If you find yourself in Chile, I do recommend a trip to Colchagua.  Next month, we are off to Mendoza in Argentina. Maybe by then I will be willing to drink wine again...

If you can get a bottle of the Purple Angel, pick one up...you won't be disappointed.

I loved the open barrel design of the winery!  

Designed to look like the Guggenheim staircase, but practical too.  This is a 6 story, gravity fed winery and this gets you from floor to floor.  It is also one of the reasons they don't allow kids (we got lucky and even got a private tour and tasting!)

Vina Santa Cruz.

 

 

They suffered a lot of damage from the earthquake.

Our horse ride through the vineyards.

Our lunch selection...Mmmmm.

Lunch!

                                                       

                                                         Our view from lunch.

MadHatter loves Jails.
She was sooo excited to
be in a real castle, with
a real jail.

Stinkerbell on the other hand, could have cared less where we were...

The Sun'll come out...

The days leading up to a vacation are some of my favorite (excepting the actual days of the vacation, of course).  I love vacation (who doesn't?) but the planning and packing and mapping out of the itinerary are also a great time for me.  And when I am doing it for a family vacation, I get downright giddy with all of the anticipation.  I love daydreaming about what the days ahead will bring, knowing the only thing I can be sure of is that everyday life will be suspended for a bit.  The daily grind will fall by the wayside and we can just live in the moment.  It makes the "usual" just a bit more tolerable for those last couple of days, because I know that soon, there is a magical time coming.

And I don't mean magical in the sense that it has to all be perfect.  That there is not a cloud in the sky, or traffic on the roads.  That my kids won't whine or fight with each other and they will eat everything I put in front of them.  I am realistic.  What I mean by magical is that we are all there together and there is nothing we have to do except enjoy that fact.  The routine we can usually set our watches by, goes out the window for a few short days and we are left with the freedom to make it up as we go along.  There is something very liberating about that when you live with toddlers.  Especially toddlers that thrive on schedules.  And at home, I am a stickler for schedules.  Yes, I am one of those moms.  But on vacation I chuck it all out the window.  My kids go to bed a bit later, they skip a nap or two, and eat a bit more junk than would normally be allowed.

So, as I finish up the last of the laundry and the packing today, I am already itching to be on the road.  I am like a kid on Christmas Eve.  I want time to fast forward so that it is tomorrow noonish (and then time can slow drastically down).  Tomorrow our adventure starts.  We will load Stinkerbell in her car seat, pick MadHatter up from preschool and make the first magical stop of the day - the McDonald's drive through (a real treat for them) and then proceed to let them eat in their car seats (another magical moment already???) and drive the 2 hours to the Colchagua Valley.  We will then spend the rest of the week visiting museums, horse back riding, biking and of course, wine tasting (this is the Napa of Chile).  But perhaps most of all, just enjoying each other's company and allowing ourselves to blow wherever the wind takes us.

I hope your week is magical too!

Chao.

Tiny Dancers

After my last post, and how heavy it was, I thought I could use a little lightness.  And it showed up in the form of a munchkin who dressed herself in her older sisters ballet tutu and proceeded to go about her day.   No dancing for this munchkin, in this outfit - "It too nice Mama".  Instead we posed, we read a book or two and brushed our teeth before getting down to the business of dancing that day.  Which we do, every day, in some form or another.

So proud that she got it on by herself.

  

She is adamant that she can brush all by herself.  

So, if you would like to see her dance, just hang around for a couple of minutes.  She doesn't go very long without busting a move.  I love that she doesn't care that she dances like her Mama (trust me, this should embarrass her).  She just knows that she hears the beat and has to move.  Wherever.  Whenever.  Sometimes I think we should all take a cue from the youngest, and least jaded of us all, and just break into dance/song when the spirit moves us.  Sure we would get some funny looks at first but it would be freeing.  Maybe take a bit of the tightness out of our necks that our daily stresses cause if we bopped our heads to the music more.  Perhaps allow us to drop some of the weight that rests upon our shoulders if we just shook it all out in dance.  But most of us lose the ability to express our feeling, thoughts, even our movements, freely somewhere in early childhood.  And that makes me a bit sad.  Most of us also lose the ability to do this too...

That doesn't make me sad, since it looks like it hurts (she swears it doesn't).  Today, when you hear the music,  take a moment to dance.  Grab a partner if it will get you in the mood.  Don't think about where you are or who is watching.  Just dance.

There but for the Grace of God...

I have been sitting on this post for a couple of days.  Mulling it over and trying to find the right words to do justice to what the experience was really like.  I keep looking through the pictures I took to see which ones would best represent what we saw.  Days after, I am still coming up with nothing.  The pictures are woefully inadequate. They will never be able to show the tiny details that make all the difference, for better and for worse.  The words I write, then erase, and then rewrite simply cannot convey the sadness, the hope, the anger, the joy that is Hogar La Granja and it's sister house, Casa Esperanza.  But I know I have to try, so here goes my best shot...

My girlfriend K and her family moved to Santiago just a couple of weeks before we got here.  In that time they had met a great missionary family that has been living here for over 20 years and who have been working with a "Hogar" (home) here in a very difficult section of town.  The home is for girls - up to the age of 18 that have had their basic rights violated (many have been abused).  Their families are not deemed fit for them to live with, so the country steps in and places them in one of the Hogars and the Christian and Missionary Alliance provides them with spiritual and emotional guidance.  My friend K has visited this Hogar on several occasions and found that there were some very simple things that could be done to make this place more of a home for these girls.  So, out went the email asking if we could give of our time to help make these ideas a reality.  On Wednesday, K, J and I hopped in the car (D had gone the day before with K) and took the 45 drive to the south of Greater Santiago.  I was told that it was a rough neighborhood, but didn't know how rough until after we had gotten home and I was recounting the trip for my Spanish teacher.  She actually gasped when I told her I was there.  I think she about fainted when she found out we drove.  Let's just say it isn't a nice place - but I have been in worse.  Heck, I have worked in worse.  But it still didn't prepare me.

You were the center of my life, the reason for my existence,
but mostly you were what made me suffer most...

For those of you who know me - you know I am never at a loss for words.  Ever.  But in this instance I was, and am, just stunned.  I had a hard time looking around me and hearing the stories about what brought these girls here.  The types of emotional and mental abuse that has been inflicted upon them is cruel in some of their cases and just downright horrific in others.  They come from circumstances that most of us cannot even fathom and this Hogar is actually a step in the right direction for them.  Some of the girls do have family that they can go visit on the weekends or families that can come to them.  Most of those families did not inflict outright abuse on their child, usually it was more of a case of abject poverty and neglect.  But most of the families that can visit, don't.  They can't find the time or make the effort and it is heartbreaking.  Some of these girls (there are about 70 of them) never get to leave the grounds except to go to school. And they will stay within the walls of the Hogar, until they turn 18 and are taken off  government and AyCM aid.  The girls will have a high school education (hopefully), will not have lived in the real world for a very long time, if ever, and will now be asked to go out and find work, a home, a way to support themselves.  I don't have to wonder why they are angry, and frustrated and depressed.  I can't imagine what it would have been like to be 16 and know that in just two short years, the only home I have ever really known, the only place that has shown me any kindness and love, would close it's doors to me forever.  It really isn't the kind of atmosphere in which hope flourishes.  It is not a place where little girls dream about their tomorrows, much less their futures.  It is - was - a place that your 18 birthday signaled an end, not a beginning.

But then two years ago that all changed.  A new type of Hogar was opened just down the street, Casa Esperanza.  Literally, the House of Hope.  The AyCM, along with some very generous benefactors, built a home for the girls that aged out of La Ganja.  They know that the only way to break the cycle of poverty and abuse is through education.  Education, love and patience. At Casa Esperanza, the girls have, not just a home and people surrounding them with love, they also have their college educations paid for.  Finally, some hope.  A reason for that same 16 year old to keep dreaming about what she can be when she grows up.  A way to keep these girls off of the streets and  keep them invested in their lives, in their educations.  Turning 18 can be a beginning for them again, and not an ending.  The girls at Casa Esperanza volunteer their time at the Hogar, making sure that the girls know that they too can have this future, if they just keep working at it.  That they don't have to continue the cycle of poverty, of neglect, of abuse.  There is a future for them and it is waiting just down the street.  Literally.

It was a day full of mixed emotions.  There is a sadness and an underlying anger that you feel when you visit La Granja (an anger that this has to happen, to anyone, anywhere), and there is such a feeling of hope and pride that you get when walking into Casa Esperanza.  It was a lot to digest and I don't think I am done sorting through my thoughts on it even now.   The one thing I do know is they both still need so much help.  And I hope that maybe I can give them some of mine.  I am not quite sure what that entails just yet, but I will keep mulling it over and keep you posted.

I will finish with some of the pictures I took...Though nothing I captured on film could compare to what it was like to be there.

A view of one of the 7 buildings that house the girls.

All possessions piled high...

No doorknobs on any doors. 

Their garden - all organic.  Surrounded on all sides by piles of junk.

I could have pulled this concrete wall down with  my hands.  It needs to be repaired as men have broken through at night and sexually abused the girls that live here.

Sweet baby Irma.   By far, the brightest spot of  my day! 

Tiny Bubbles

It was a wonderful weekend.  I got to spend almost all day Saturday doing things just for me (thanks B)!  And then Sunday we just hung around the house and played.  We took the girls across the street to the park to blow bubbles.  Something that Stinkerbell has been begging me to do almost every minute of every day since she found the wands.  Problem is, you have to make your own soap here because you can't buy it.  Not really a problem, if you can get soap like you can in the U.S.  Problem, if you are buying your soap in Chile.  Even though we have the same brands, they are not the same quality and that stinks.  But, add some corn starch (or sugar) and lo and behold, you have bubbles again!  I took a ton of pictures...but will only post a few.  Enjoy!

There is sugar in here???  Doesn't taste like it.

More bubbles please, MadHatter...

Stinkerbell making sure MadHatter was giving her a fair share...

And then the Stinker goes and uses MadHatters instead of hers.  She comes by her nickname honestly.

Fighting over the bubbles.  Dulce can't stop eating them.

I give up.  It's warm anyway!

And a gratuitous picture of B and his best friend!