Mothers and Daughters
Chile is a decidedly feminine country. That's what I've decided. They're no bullfighters.
The latin fire, however, is far from extinguished here. But instead of Spain's guady plumage or the oversized belt buckles and gallon hats found in Mexico, Texas and Argentina, the warmth of Chile resonates in its families, lovers, and the charming back and forth between Mothers and Daughters.
So damn cute.
I've decided to romanticize it. Really, they've got their fair share of pain and strife in this filial relationship, as much as anyone else, or anywhere else, but that ain't news.
Here's what is: a two-for-one special. Mothers who carry their daughters on their laps only pay the price of one bus ticket!
It was a dry hot January in Valparaiso when Jason and I took the 10pm back to Santiago. Reduced schedule meant we had to wait 2 hours in the muggy upstairs of the crowded station, drinking, and sweating. I was pretty grumpy by the time we piled onto that hateful bus.
We found our seats, Jason passed out, and I counted down the seconds until devastating boredom would hit. It was almost due when my idle gaze caught hold of a really beautiful girl and her daughter sitting in the seat across from us, up one.
At least this was interesting: in the midst of summertime heat, this little girl was thirsty. Her mother pulled out a little cardboard box container of chocolate milk, but there was no straw.
I watched as dismay hit both of them, and her mother set to work, digging her fingernail into the small, tinfoil circle where the straw should go, while her daughter sat on her lap, facing her, staring at her work with a concerned look, a sweet furrowed four year old brow, "Mommy..."
Mother surged with love. Anyone who's ever tried to open one of these cardboard box drinks without a straw knows that it's nearly impossible. After all, it's not just tinfoil, but also this thick layer of plastic underneath that only the sharp, narrow, piercing tip of a plastic straw can "Ahhh, yes!" plunge through and bring forth that sweet nectar of satisfaction.
It was hot, and her little daughter was thirsty, and mother dug in there devotedly. Finally, she made it. She'd broken through so her girl could drink. Her daughter pressed her mouth against the cardboard and sucked and squeezed and tilted her head back as chocolate milk spilled out and dripped and rolled down her chin.
Yes!, I thought to myself, the savage beauty of nature, the jubilant depravity of mama wolf giving milk to her cub! Drink on, thirsty animal, crave and vanquish your craving, suck from your mother and exult in the wild satisfaction!
But then she shocked me. She looked at her mother and offered her the box of milk. No. It didn't make sense. Mother didn't ask her for it -- yet she thought of her mother nonetheless.
Then this: a few minutes later, while adjusting her position on the lap, she accidentally elbowed her mother, although lightly. At this point I would be inclined to tell her: don't think twice wild cub! Fight for your spot closest to the Nipple. Struggle, or die!
Wrong again. Her sweet brown eyes looked to her mother and her sweet child's voice softly begged, "permiso!"
Amazing. What kindness and tenderness existed between these two girls, what natural respect, what lack of bitterness and lack of pretension that such a baby would think of her mother's thirst, that she would use a word like "permiso," that she would call her mother "mommy-po"...she fell asleep in her mothers arms like the softest, sweetest cub in all of the wild of humanity.
Bus pulled into Santiago terminal, and the harsh fluorescent lights woke up one grumpy little animal. It was the mother's turn to once again show limitless affection, by tickling her awake as baby cub resisted and groaned.
Latins are a cute and funny people, and they know it. Mother knew how cute she was being, and that I was watching them, grinning and laughing. She turned back and smiled at me, so beautiful, so in love with her daughter, and so irresistible herself. Needless to say, I fell in love as well. But, typical, I didn't get her digits. Oh well.
The latin fire, however, is far from extinguished here. But instead of Spain's guady plumage or the oversized belt buckles and gallon hats found in Mexico, Texas and Argentina, the warmth of Chile resonates in its families, lovers, and the charming back and forth between Mothers and Daughters.
So damn cute.
I've decided to romanticize it. Really, they've got their fair share of pain and strife in this filial relationship, as much as anyone else, or anywhere else, but that ain't news.
Here's what is: a two-for-one special. Mothers who carry their daughters on their laps only pay the price of one bus ticket!
It was a dry hot January in Valparaiso when Jason and I took the 10pm back to Santiago. Reduced schedule meant we had to wait 2 hours in the muggy upstairs of the crowded station, drinking, and sweating. I was pretty grumpy by the time we piled onto that hateful bus.
We found our seats, Jason passed out, and I counted down the seconds until devastating boredom would hit. It was almost due when my idle gaze caught hold of a really beautiful girl and her daughter sitting in the seat across from us, up one.
At least this was interesting: in the midst of summertime heat, this little girl was thirsty. Her mother pulled out a little cardboard box container of chocolate milk, but there was no straw.
I watched as dismay hit both of them, and her mother set to work, digging her fingernail into the small, tinfoil circle where the straw should go, while her daughter sat on her lap, facing her, staring at her work with a concerned look, a sweet furrowed four year old brow, "Mommy..."
Mother surged with love. Anyone who's ever tried to open one of these cardboard box drinks without a straw knows that it's nearly impossible. After all, it's not just tinfoil, but also this thick layer of plastic underneath that only the sharp, narrow, piercing tip of a plastic straw can "Ahhh, yes!" plunge through and bring forth that sweet nectar of satisfaction.
It was hot, and her little daughter was thirsty, and mother dug in there devotedly. Finally, she made it. She'd broken through so her girl could drink. Her daughter pressed her mouth against the cardboard and sucked and squeezed and tilted her head back as chocolate milk spilled out and dripped and rolled down her chin.
Yes!, I thought to myself, the savage beauty of nature, the jubilant depravity of mama wolf giving milk to her cub! Drink on, thirsty animal, crave and vanquish your craving, suck from your mother and exult in the wild satisfaction!
But then she shocked me. She looked at her mother and offered her the box of milk. No. It didn't make sense. Mother didn't ask her for it -- yet she thought of her mother nonetheless.
Then this: a few minutes later, while adjusting her position on the lap, she accidentally elbowed her mother, although lightly. At this point I would be inclined to tell her: don't think twice wild cub! Fight for your spot closest to the Nipple. Struggle, or die!
Wrong again. Her sweet brown eyes looked to her mother and her sweet child's voice softly begged, "permiso!"
Amazing. What kindness and tenderness existed between these two girls, what natural respect, what lack of bitterness and lack of pretension that such a baby would think of her mother's thirst, that she would use a word like "permiso," that she would call her mother "mommy-po"...she fell asleep in her mothers arms like the softest, sweetest cub in all of the wild of humanity.
Bus pulled into Santiago terminal, and the harsh fluorescent lights woke up one grumpy little animal. It was the mother's turn to once again show limitless affection, by tickling her awake as baby cub resisted and groaned.
Latins are a cute and funny people, and they know it. Mother knew how cute she was being, and that I was watching them, grinning and laughing. She turned back and smiled at me, so beautiful, so in love with her daughter, and so irresistible herself. Needless to say, I fell in love as well. But, typical, I didn't get her digits. Oh well.
posted by Chileno @ 10:59 PM
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5 Comments:
Dude that chick is fugly, and you know it. In the US cities like NYC or L.A. those type of girls have no chance since it's all about the pretty willowy blonde brigade. The indemand latinas and black girls with European features and a dewy tawny skincoloring are the ones in demand.
In demand by whom? How much are we talking about? In dollars, please.
I'm not trying to sell dewy tawny Latin girls on the chopping block of NYC and LA. I'm not sure exactly what you mean by in-demand. What industry? I guess I've been out of the States too long.
The girl in the picture isn't the one I write about. On a different day from the experience I describe, I was walking downtown and found the pictured iron maiden fans walking around and I thought it was funny that a mother and daughter would wear the same outfit of a border-line hardcore rock group, and they were nice enough to pose for me, and i think the picture is funny.
I think your comment is funny too, although slightly depressing if you really are into objectifying women that way. Anyway, Chile isn't really the place for rounding up Latin Girls for the Gringo market; there are many extremely beautiful women here, but on average they're uglier than like Argentina, Brazil and Venezuela. And it's also the most expensive country so we're talking bad ROI.
Thanks for reading my blog, and feel free to reference your website, blog or name when you comment.
Darling
When I talk about "In demand" I'm talking about single,well off, tall,young city guys going after a certain type of girl. The only white guys that fugly metal head girl would ever get in the US is like some redneck out in the bush. You know that the standards and competition in the first world are harder to meet. The big metro cities are hard if a person does not have their ducks in order. Even some white girls can't meet them and get sort of tossed into the arms of some ghetto guy. By objectifying other women and myself then I beat men to it. My comments can sound a bit cynical which they are not. They are advantagous and subersive observations coming from a "Third Culture Kid". Growing up in different continents I can tell you it made me have a sharp chameleon-like personality since I had to quickly adapt to people who came from a different culture as me. You have made a keen observation correctly I can tell you the reason why Argentinean and Brazilian girls are normaly perceived as prettier. Let me tell you something is not because of superior white genetics. Morenas are the majority there two. In those two countries it is very common for Porteñas and Paulistas around the age of 15 to go under-the-scapel to achieve the "idealized" beauty. The have to look good for their "quinceañeras". Those girls have this tenacity to be flawless and have the attitude that they are truly gorgeous. Two charectaristic that Chilenas lack . . . Desplante! To get the most out of your ROI you need to get your booty over to the upper echleons of "Sanhattan". There you find very attractive people. The only downside is that they think alittle to highly of themselves since they are in the habit of dissing everyone. Personally don't know how you can last like 2 years already in Chile. Personally I can't last more than 2 weeks now without going bonkers at the weirdness downthere.
In response to the other anonymous:
Get off your soapbox, did you even read the post?
CUTE!!!!!
Didn't know there was a soft side to you...
Lovely story.
Too bad you didn't speak to the girl, bet she would have given you her number like that.
Not sure if things would have worked out (as a matter of fact, pretty sure they wouldn't have, as judging by reading other not-so-lovely posts), but still. Silly you.
Cheers
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