sept 18th memoir-ever felt pregnant?

Ever wondered what it’s like to feel four months pregnant? I can tell you. Pretty much you have to undo the top button on your jeans, unless you are wearing sweatpants or a bathrobe, and boy, is it hard to tighten your chacos, not because you can’t reach but because the compression on your stomach is so much, its quite tempting to just go barefoot. Furthermore, sitting down is torture- the most comfortable position is standing up, leaning back, hands bracing back of hips for support, though laying down flat on your back will do, but stomach down spells total disaster.

Okay. Don’t worry. I am not pregnant. But today is Friday, September 18^th, the biggest holiday in Chile, celebrating national independence. But here, in the household of Adelina and Orozimbo, ‘el dieciocho (the 18^th)’ signifies food. (I finally found out her husband’s name, and have decided that I will name my first son after him. oro means gold, and zimbo, I don’t know what that means but, hey, a little bit of mystery is good for the brain). When I say lots of food, picture a hefty thanksgiving meal for a family of 8, placed into the stomachs of 4. And that is why I feel four months pregnant, because today I have surely eaten enough chicken, goat, rice, fresh empanadas, and salad to feed most people for a week. Goat? Yes. Mountain raised, Chilean goat. And it did not taste like chicken at all. The main problem with eating the goat, was that, okay, better skip ahead to the next paragraph if you are a bit queasy, I had to not let myself remember that this ‘cabrito’, baby goat, was, just yesterday morning, scrambling up the neighboring mountains, then yesterday night it was a skinned and gutted carcass hanging outside my door, and last night we cut it up on the kitchen countertop, and then it was on my plate, and now it is in my stomach. (not the whole goat of course). So that is my first-hand experience with fresh meat, though I cannot claim that I helped with the slaughtering- I had to go to the school but perhaps next time.

While I see the huge mountains surrounding me each time I step outside, I had never seen such a huge mountain of empanadas as we made today. And boy, is empanada making a labor intensive process, but so completely worth it. Chopping a bushel of onions, while crying profusely (that cut down on the amount of salt we needed to add), cooking the meat, making the bread (each time I help, I am amazed at senora adelina’s uncanny skill at adding just the right amount of water, oil, salt, and flour to make perfect dough with just her eyes- even with a recipe and measuring cup I usually come out too dry or too sticky). Then comes the artistic part- making the waffled edges- lets just say I am best at abstract art, since very few of the empanadas looked like they should have, but, no matter, they are still delicious, and waiting for me to eat them for breakfast tomorrow.

So, normally after such a huge meal, I would siesta it up for a while, but no- we’re off to the neighbors for an 8 hour dance. Yes. 2 until after 10. Good thing I didn’t sign anything about no dancing. I have officially learned the cueca. I am also perhaps the worst cueca dancer in Chile right now, but hey, I have a few more months to perfect it, and I was told I am dancing like a half Chilean, so that is pretty good I think.

In the morning, not enough hours away, I am off to learn how to milk goats. I hope they warned the goats.