This morning, in between rounds of hail showers, my daughter and I hopped on a micro (local bus) to spend some time at the library.  We tend to go once every week, as books can only be checked out for 10 days at a time and I don’t want to test the system and find out what happens when bringing books back late in a foreign country.  I had three librarians in my family as well, so wouldn’t want to have to admit to having my library card revoked!  While at the library, my husband received a visit from our landlord’s husband, who was bearing a bag of fish.

This morning's surprise: trout!

Our landlord’s husband, Mr. L, is a sweet guy.  Or, at least we think he’s a sweet guy but honestly cannot understand him half of the time, poh.  A bit of background is probably in order here.  He speaks like most Chileans, mumbling, with one word running into the next, and with ends removed from every word possible.  And then once chilenismos are included in the conversation, porfa!  For those unaccustomed to Chilean Spanish, chilenismos are ubiquitous and initially quite confusing.  So far, I’ve learned only al tiro, which literally means “the shot” but translates in Chile to “right away.”  It is thought to originate from the firing of a gun at the start of horse races, or so says my local news station.  Poh, as anyone in Chile knows, is a useful word to incorporate anytime into any conversation, and is used in place of the Spanish word pues.  Poh is basically a filler word that is often used to finish off sentences.  Porfa, on the other hand, is an example of the way Chileans, like Romans, chop the end off of words, and in this case is the commonly used short version of por favor (please.)  Taking all of the linguistic nuances into consideration, when Mr. L, our landlord’s  husband talks, we are generally quite pleased with ourselves when we’re able to understand him.

This morning, while my daughter and I were out, Mr. L stopped by our apartment carrying a bag of fish he had caught in a river down the street from our apartment.  He didn’t knock on the front door, and when my husband J. peeked his head out the window he spotted Mr. L hanging out on our patio.  Mr. L approached J. with the bag in an outstretched hand, and J. asked if the fish was a gift for us.  A bit of awkwardness followed, after which J. was handed a large trout as a gift.  We’re still not really sure if Mr. L stopped by to show off his catch (and is fishing in the river even legal?) or whether he intended to give us a present.  Either way, thus passed our morning.

Our daughter, too young to be squeamish, delighted in watching J. prepare the fish.  And quite a task this was:  cleaning, deboning, filleting, all of which I prefer to watch from quite a distance!  We saved in head in a jar to make fish head soup with, and our toddler repeatedly asked me to pull it from the refrigerator so she could look at the head.  I half-expected her to ask me the fish’s name, though perhaps this will be her request tomorrow morning…

Later in the day, J. walked down the street to our landlord’s hair salon to get a haircut and a bag of potatoes from her.  Everyone’s landlord has a hair salon and grows potatoes, right?  In some ways, this seems to be very typical for business people in Valdivia, and running a few small businesses seems to be the norm.  We know a restauranteur who also has a hotel and a tourism business and the owners of the vacation cabins we initially rented in Valdivia also have a real estate business.  J. came back home this afternoon, and for less than $11 had paid for a  new ‘do and 4 kilos of potatoes, while leaving a large tip to boot.  In addition, he received an inquisition around when we’ll be having another baby (I’m not pregnant!) and whether he wants to have a boy or girl.  He handled it well, and to my disappointment reported back that he didn’t even blush.

This evening, my husband cooked up a delicious fish and potatoes dinner which was followed by some delicious oatmeal chocolate chip lavender cookies I’d baked with my daughter earlier in the day, while incorporating harina tostada (hand-toasted flour), a local staple.  While we don’t yet have deep roots in Valdivia, it is nice having unanticipated visitors bringing gifts (whether or not it was their intention) and to have people interested enough in our lives to do a bit of prodding and teasing.  All in all, a typical, delightful day for us in Patagonia, poh.