For years, we celebrated Tony’s birthday, Dec. 8, by hauling out our boxes of Christmas decorations and transforming our home into a winter wonderland. From Kansas to Turkey to China to Laos, we unpacked our huge Rubbermaid tubs to fill our hearts with festive cheer.
That tradition stalled in India, where our holiday stash never emerged from the storage closet during the five years we spent in Delhi. I can’t explain why we didn’t bother to Christmas-ify our apartment there, but nevertheless, we decided to get back on track here in Chile.
On Tony’s birthday morning, we went for a walk so he could test out his birthday present – new sunglasses. Good thing it was a beautiful sunny summer day! We stopped for breakfast at a little café near our house and enjoyed some chirimoya juice (my latest obsession).
Then it was time to get down to business. Tony uncrated our Christmas tree, while I started digging out the decorations. Ella was keen to help.
As young, broke newlyweds, we filled these stockings (stitched by yours truly).
But they really couldn’t hold the volume of candy and presents we required, so I picked up these beauties when we lived in China (designed by a fellow Shanghai American School teacher out of Chinese silk and maribou).
Since 1995, Tony and I have exchanged tree ornaments every year. Of course, this was my idea, and the intention was to track our lives through representational ornaments: home purchases, vacations, pets, etc. Tony was slow to embrace this new tradition and failed to think about it prior to the holiday season, so he dashed out on Christmas Eve 1995 to pick up this winner at a gas station near our home in Lawrence, Kansas.
Over the years, he has put a little more effort into his ornament selection. Unpacking the holiday boxes, we reminisced about the stages of our life together.
We bought a house in Lawrence in 1995. Tony set up a workshop in the garage to play the role of resident handyman.
In those days, we loved seeing neighborhoods decked out for the holidays, especially the Country Club Plaza in Kansas City.
We sold that house when we prepared to move overseas, but we later purchased a rental property in Albuquerque and a summer home in Michigan (our Michigan Christmas ornament is actually IN Michigan).
In 2001, we hit the road. Our ornaments continue to bring back memories of those wonderful places we were lucky to call home around the world.
Istanbul, Turkey
Shanghai, China
Vientiane, Laos
New Delhi, India
And now, Santiago, Chile.
Other ornaments evoked some of our fantastic trips in the States and abroad.
My sister, Kate, and I traveled to Alaska in 1999 and fell in love with the musk ox.
We visited my sister, Megan, when she and her family lived in Korea in 2013. I couldn’t find a tree ornament, so I gave Tony a luggage tag that year.
Wow, sometimes I can’t believe how much of this incredible planet we have explored together over the years! Here are a few glimpses into our vacation history. Can you guess where they came from?
In addition to the purchased ornaments, we still have shoeboxes full of handmade decorations that adorned our Christmas trees early in this journey. Jingle bells tied with red satin bows, small pinecones with gold glitter, iridescent wrapping paper ribbon curled with scissors … we used whatever we could to create a little Christmas.
We added a new tradition to our Christmas decorating this year. As we settle in a new hemisphere where the holiday season falls in the summertime, it felt right to prop up Santa next to a vase of fresh flowers.
No matter where you are, what you celebrate or which traditions you embrace, may your season be merry and full of joy!
As a traveller, I treasure the confusion and anticipation of encountering an unfamiliar fruit at a market or grocery store. Sometimes the fruit is simply too daunting to tackle, such as jackfruit in Thailand, which was the size of a 3-month-old baby. Sometimes the fruit lets you down, such as the popular erik in Turkey, unripe plums that left my tongue sore and my tummy upset. Sometimes the fruit represents only a minor shift from a common presence in your life, such as the tiny bananas of Laos that were far more flavorful than the oversized bunches I knew best.
But sometimes, a special fruit crosses your path – a fruit so exotic and unexpected, a fruit so well camoflaged that you nearly overlook it, a fruit that poses tantalizing questions: Does it have one pit or many? Is it juicy or dry? Should I cut it or peel it? Could something so hideous taste good?
Such was my experience recently with Chile’s ubiquitous chirimoya. I had seen it at the supermarket and even picked one up. Heavy in my hand, it felt like a lumpy softball. Green and nobbly, it intimidated me. On my next shopping excursion, I visited the chirimoya section again. I brought the mysterious fruit home and waited a few days for it to give up some of its firmness, like a ripe peach.
I cut it open and encountered large black seeds and white sections of flesh. Picking out a few seeds, I scooped a bite into my mouth. The slightly sandy texture was reminiscent of a pear, but it was smoother, creamier, like a banana. The flavor exploded with hints of strawberry, kiwi, pear, banana, pineapple … I couldn’t find a perfect comparison. It was possibly the sweetest fruit I had ever eaten, so sweet I got a sugar headache and had to pack up half for lunch the next day. It suddenly made sense that Chileans love their chirimoya juice and ice cream.
Chirimoya is called “custard apple” in English, and several websites quote Mark Twain as saying it was “the most delicious fruit known to men.” It definitely ranked up there for me, too.
Like most people in and from the United States, (a) I ate way too much in the last few days, and (b) I found quite a few reasons to count my blessings.
Our school gave us only Thursday afternoon off to celebrate Thanksgiving, which created widespread crankiness. That abated later in the day when we joined some wonderful people for a beautiful Thanksgiving dinner. Hostess Michelle roasted the most delicious, juicy turkey I’ve ever had (she said the secret was an overnight soak in brine – what?!), and the table overflowed with all the traditional fixin’s. It’s spring here in Chile, so we sat outside in the garden under a big sun umbrella.
Tony and I both felt deeply grateful for new friends who reach out and share such heartfelt hospitality.
Saturday, I headed back to school for Kermess, the annual international festival. Nido de Aguilas International School parents showcased their home countries with more than 30 decorated booths selling food and drinks. Children paraded in their traditional costumes, and performers gave us a tour around the world through music and dance. In my enthusiasm to visit all the places I’ve lived, I made the mistake of kicking off my food frenzy with a big Turkish shwarma. I hardly had room for anything else!
No booth for Laos, unfortunately. I would have happily scooped up some larb with sticky rice. It was fun to chat with families from my other overseas homes: Turkey, China, India, and Chile, plus I picked up a beer at the Germany booth (ahhh… high school memories).
Looking around, I felt thankful for the opportunity to teach abroad and work in a community comprising more than 50 nationalities. This is our 16th Thanksgiving overseas, and I know immersion in other cultures has broadened my mind.
After four hours of snacking, I hauled my distended belly to meet Tony for another food-centered social event: Nido Newbie Thanksgiving.
We met at the home of fellow newbies, Travis and Laura, who live in a peaceful hillside cabin in the Arrayan Canyon. We ate more tasty Thanksgiving treats, sat in lawn chairs and chatted in the shade of a huge walnut tree, went for a short hike with false historical narration by Craig, ate some more, drank a bit, and shivered to watch some of the kids – and later, some of the adults – jump into the chilly pool.
On our little hike, looking down at the house and pool.
For the millionth time since moving to Chile, I felt grateful for a group of fun, smart, adventurous people sharing this newbie experience. It’s reassuring to know there are others who get it, who will laugh with you and cry with you and eventually laugh with you again.
We were meant to attend yet another function Saturday evening, but Tony and I had overestimated our social stamina. We both hit the wall and had to send our regrets.
It’s always hard to be away from family during the holiday season. However, our first South American Thanksgiving filled our tummies and our hearts.
You may think all I do in Chile is ride my bike and drink wine. Not true!
Well, OK, it’s mostly true.
MOVInight on Nov. 11 introduced me to a whole new world of Chilean wine. Up to now, I was more than thrilled to fill my supermarket cart with “cheap and cheerful” Chilean wines. (I have read that phrase on several websites, but I don’t know who said it first.) Ten bucks gets you a pretty great bottle of wine in the grocery store – conveniently located next to the cheese aisle! That was good enough for me.
And then I went to MOVInight, a wine festival featuring independent artisans who shared wines crafted by their own hands and poured with love. These innovative producers comprise MOVI (Movimiento de Viñateros Independientes, or the Movement of Independent Vintners in English), an organization of 32 winemakers committed to making wine “on a human scale.”
According to a 2015 article on the website Grape Collective, three huge winemakers sell four out of five bottles of Chilean wine. MOVI was formed to help the small family winemakers access resources and manage marketing.
MOVI is an important addition to the overall Chilean wine industry. There is something very underdog about them in a country where the big dog is very dominant. How can a wine lover not embrace passionate family winemakers making heartfelt artisanal wines from old vines. Now compare the story of the mass produced industrial “value” wines – which is sexier David or Goliath? When we met with Chilean wine pioneer and President of Wines of Chile Aurelio Montes, he was glowing in his praise of MOVI. While they are not fee paying members of Wines of Chile, Montes was keen to point out that they are invited to press events as their story is an important part of the narrative of modern Chilean wine.
As far as wine festivals go, MOVInight felt particularly whimsical and lively, maybe because the winemakers were so eager to share their stories. At the entrance, we received a wineglass for the myriad samples of vino. Food trucks, peppy music, a backdrop of mountains, and well-appointed port-a-potties contributed to an evening of tipsy laughter.
Look at the setting!
We waited a very long time for dinner at one of the food trucks, but it was worth it. Yummy gnochi.
Posing with a rep from Casa Bauzá.
My favorite wines of the night were Villard Syrah 2015 and Flaherty Red Wine (a blend of Syrah, Cabernet Sauvignon and Tempranillo) 2014. But, hey, it’s a pretty rare wine that doesn’t make me happy.
The only bummer about being a wine snob is that I can’t find these MOVI brands at the supermarket. However, I just discovered La Vinoteca, where I can shop for wine online and get free delivery with orders over 19,900 pesos (about $30). Whew!
For more on MOVI, check out this short documentary.
Less than three hour’s drive from Santiago, the world transforms from concrete and glass into mountains and vineyards. The Colchagua Valley dissects central Chile, from the Pacific Ocean in the east to the Andes Mountains in the west, and boasts a perfect climate for growing grapes – particularly red wine varieties.
As it happens, I love red wine. And mountains. And four-day weekends.
Friday after school, fellow newbie Stella and I ditched our families and road-tripped to Santa Cruz in the Colchagua Valley. We encountered heavy congestion on the Pan-American Highway, but I absentmindedly followed the car in front of me, which crossed the median into a lane closed to oncoming traffic and opened to those of us heading south. We whipped past miles of standstill traffic and finally merged back onto the correct side of the highway, breathing a sigh of relief that we hadn’t missed our exit. At a big toll plaza, we waited in line while scores of vendors in fluorescent orange vests hawked drinks, bread, and empanadas.
Finally, we arrived at Vino Bello, a small bed-and-breakfast owned by a former Nido de Aguilas teacher and her husband. Surrounded by vineyards, the 1930s manor house was renovated in 2003 and featured simple but comfortable accommodations. We met the owner, Janine, at the nearby Vino Bello restaurant and enjoyed chatting with her about common acquaintances and her transition from educator to business owner.
It didn’t take long for my usual food-induced joy to surface, and after a pisco sour, a glass of wine, delicious beetroot ravioli stuffed with butternut squash, and an apple crumble de frutas, I was blissfully sleepy.
The next morning, Stella and I lingered over breakfast and then lingered some more outside with our books.
The hotel clerk helped us make arrangements for the day, and we eventually headed out to the wineries.
First stop: Viña Estampa, where Fillipe entertained us and poured samples for tasting. He told us that Estampa specializes in blends. According to the Estampa website:
The technique of blending consists of carefully combining two or more varieties to craft a single wine. Each variety contributes its finest characteristics to the blend to create a beautifully balanced wine with unique personality.
Fillipe tried to explain the origin of the winery’s name, but I didn’t understand until I read the story online. The family-owned winery traces its agribusiness roots to a flour mill called “La Estampa Mill” in what is now the Indepencia neighborhood of Santiago. The mill was named in honor of a legendary estampa – or pocket-sized prayer card – with a picture of Nuestra Señora del Carmen (Our Lady of Mount Carmel). More than 200 years ago, the picture allegedly circled overhead for about 15 minutes before flying across the Mapocho River and landing next to a woman teaching catechism to her children. A Catholic grotto, and later a chapel, was erected at the site.
We tasted three Estampa blends:
2014 Estampa Reserve Carménère-Malbec,
2014 Estampa Fina-Reserva Carménère-Syrah-Cabernet Sauvignon,
and 2013 Gold Estampa Carménère-Cabernet Sauvignon-Cabernet Franc-Petit Verdot.
They were all delicious, but we chose the middle-range wine to take home.
After a tranquil, tasty lunch overlooking the vineyards and hillsides, we met up with a couple from Puerto Rico and a family from Brazil for the winery tour.
Our guide, Maria Angel, explained that Montes doesn’t irrigate its vines in this valley. Dry farming yields smaller bunches but higher quality grapes, she said. She took us to the roof, where ladies sort the grapes, and equipment separates the stems before dumping grapes down a hose into fermentation tanks below. She also showed us some examples of feng shui principles incorporated into the building’s design.
For our tasting, we sampled:
2015 Outer Limits Sauvignon Blanc,
2013 Montes Alpha Cabernet Sauvignon,
2014 Montes Alpha Carménère,
and 2015 Outer Limits CGM (Carignan, Grenache, Mourvèdre).
Note the pathetic level of pours… not cool, Montes.
I picked up a bottle of the Carménère and another blend we didn’t sample but I know I like – Montes Twins (Malbec-Cabernet Sauvignon).
Hanging out with one of the winery’s founders, Aurelio Montes. He’s so crazy.
The cellar holds 800 French oak barrels, arranged in a semicircle. Gregorian chants echoed off the walls, creating a spiritual setting.
Panorama from the Montes patio.
Our little B&B was booked for the night, so we had to pack up and move across the road to Hotel Terraviña.
We read and snacked outside until dinnertime, when we walked through the vineyard to Casa Colchagua restaurant. My dinner of pork ribs with quinoa risotto was rich and hearty. I only wished we hadn’t pigged out on the hotel’s cheese platter beforehand.
The next morning, a cold fog had descended on the grape vines.
After breakfast, we decided to head home a little sooner than planned with one more stop on the way out of town.
We drove to Viña Laura Hartwig, a family-owned boutique winery. According to the website:
In 1966, Laura Bisquertt receives the Santa Laura estate from her father, who had purchased it in 1928. The land, as was customary in the area, was devoted to seasonal crops and livestock. Between 1966 and 1971, Laura’s husband, Alejandro Hartwig Carte, a civil engineer, manages the estate by farming traditional crops and running a diary farm. In 1971, he decides to look for new job opportunities abroad, thus joining the management team of German pharmaceutical Boehringer Ingelheim, in Montreal, Canada. The family lives in Canada for 10 years. During that time and due to multiple trips to United States and Europe, Alejandro becomes a great wine enthusiast and connoisseur. He recognizes North America’s growing demand for classic French wine varieties. He decides to take advantage of the excellent weather conditions of the Colchagua Valley and the increasing appetite for wines from the New World (wines from Australia and California had started to become popular around this time), and develops what he calls his “Retirement Project.”
Stella and I had planned to pick up a bottle or two and hit the road, but it turned out the winery offered horse-drawn carriage rides. How could we not do that? With Geronimo in the driver’s seat, we rolled through the gorgeous vineyard. The fog had burned off, revealing a bright blue sky and a perfect backdrop of verdant hills.
With the long drive ahead, I couldn’t partake in a wine sampling. The shopkeeper informed us that Laura Hartwig was known for producing 100% Petit Verdot, a variety that was usually used in blends, so Stella sat down with a glass while I poked around and took some photos.
We both bought a bottle and then we took off for home with slim hopes of finding a restaurant for lunch.
In general, Chile shuts down on Sunday. As we drove through towns and slowed down by highway exits, it seemed nobody was out and nothing was open. Then we encountered Juan y Medio. I almost drove right past, despite Stella’s GPS directions. There was no exit, just the driveway into the restaurant straight off the highway lane (speed limit: 75 mph). The parking lot was already packed. We were fortunate to get a table, and we enjoyed tasty Chilean sandwiches. When we returned to the parking lot, we found all the cars’ windshields had been covered with cardboard to keep the interiors relatively cool in the pounding sun. Crazy.
Back in Santiago, Stella and I were both psyched to remember that we still had two days off work. Santa Cruz was the perfect weekend get-away. Great food and wine, plenty of downtime to read and relax, beautiful scenery, fresh air and sunshine, fun company … did I mention the wine? I have a feeling this wasn’t my last visit to Colchagua Valley.
After five years in New Delhi, this girl is ready to get back on a bike and enjoy some nature.
Here in Santiago, we live just a couple blocks from urban bike trails that stretch across the city, connecting riverside parks in 11 neighborhoods. On Sunday mornings, about 40 kilometers of roads are blocked off to cars and opened to cyclists.
A July 2016 article in The Guardian traces “Santiago’s two-wheeled revolution.” It’s full of interesting anecdotes about grassroots efforts to promote a cycling culture that breaks down social barriers. This little blurb confirmed my belief that I was going to love biking here:
Geographically and climatically, Santiago is kind to those on bikes. The city is backed by some of the highest mountains in the world but is surprisingly and mercifully flat, rising from an altitude of 475 metres in the west to around 700 metres in well-heeled Las Condes and Vitacura. Only in the eastern extremes, where the city extends its tentacles into the foothills of the Andes, does the going get tough. It is a dry city too, with around 280mm of rainfall a year – less than half of London’s total. For a third of the year between November and February it hardly rains a drop.
Check out this screenshot of the Mapocho42K project, a bike path along the Mapocho River. Can’t you feel the wind in your hair?
After a couple months of chilly weather, Santiago is emerging from winter. It’s time to get back in the saddle.
Life is simply too busy (and traffic is too daunting) for weekday excursions, so we had planned to shop for bikes last weekend. Then Tony got sick and spent the whole day Saturday in bed. Sunday, most bike shops were closed. So we were determined to get it done today! We had heard about “bike street,” a strip of bike shops in central Santiago (and we even saw the shuttered stores when we went to the 2Cellos concert last week). The plan for today was to visit “bike street,” although Tony and I both felt nervous about the language barrier. A quick google search revealed a Trek bike shop just a couple miles away. We decided to check it out first.
With our bike rack in the trunk, we drove to Echard Bike Center and found everything we needed. The family-owned shop featured friendly knowledgable staff, including Jean Claude, who had raced mountain bikes in California years ago and spoke beautiful English. Tony and I both found bikes we loved, and we pimped them out with computers, water bottle racks, kickstands and Kryptonite U-locks. We had brought bike lights and helmets from the States.
Waiting…
A worker rolls out Tony’s sweet blue ride.
Good thing Tony was kitted out and ready to go! (Just kidding … it’s only a mannequin. But don’t you think Tony needs tattoo sleeves?)
The guys let me pose like I know how to fix a bike. I do not.
Por qué Trek? Because it’s awesome!
Drumroll, please… Ta da! You can’t really tell from this photo, but parts of the frame are dark purple with sparkles. I love her.
Unfortunately, it started to rain about the time we got home with our bikes, but as soon as the skies clear, you know where we’ll be!
Wherever we go in the world, there’s an irresistible urge to climb to the highest point for a bird’s-eye view. I started to make a little collage of all the sky-high places we’ve visited, but there were too many! Check out this small sample.
Here in Santiago, I’m guessing the surrounding mountains hold the key to ultimate panorama photos. I’ll let you know when I finally get out of town to check them out.
In the meantime, we rode to the top of Latin America’s tallest building Monday afternoon. The 300-meter-high Gran Torre Santiago, a 15-minute walk from our house in the Providencia neighborhood, is one of four skyscrapers comprising Costanera Center. It offers a 53-second elevator ride to the observation deck on the 62nd floor.
Compared to other skyscrapers we’ve visited, this one was a bit … well … short. However, the 360° view of Santiago really helped me understand the city’s layout. On land, we frequently seem to drive circuitous routes to get from Point A to Point B. Now I realize we are navigating around those gorgeous hills.
From the observation deck, we could pinpoint some neighborhood landmarks but couldn’t identify our apartment building. Later, I compared my photos with our apartment’s location on google maps and found it.
Providencia cools off in the building’s shadow.
Compulsory cheesy selfie with our new friends, Pi, Laura, and Sara.
A half-hearted attempt to research the building revealed few interesting facts other than how the financial crisis of 2008 stalled construction for 10 months. But a poster at the observation deck said construction of the Gran Torre Santiago involved 6,000 workers, 350,000 square meters of concrete, and 105,000 metric tons of steel.
The Skyscraper Center websites describes the building this way:
Torre Costanera’s design comes from it’s close proximity to the Andes, and the need to distinguish the tower against this dramatic backdrop. It has prompted a simple and clear form. Rising from the northwest corner of the development next to the Mapocho River, the glass-clad tower has a slightly tapered, slender form that culminates in a sculptural latticed crown. The four corners are indented to accentuate its slenderness. The glass surface of the tower strikes a delicate balance between transparency and reflectivity. At the top of the tower is a dramatic steel and glass structure, providing a unique and elegant silhouette. This is a 21st century building, both technically and aesthetically. It is designed with state-of-the-art structural and mechanical systems, including a highly advanced outrigger system to account for Santiago’s high level of seismic activity. The cooling tower draws its entire water supply from the adjacent San Carlos canal.
A visit to the 105th tallest building in the world? Check! Cross that off my bucket list.
For the first couple months we were in Chile, I thought disfruta was Spanish for fruit. You see it on posters and billboards everywhere, so I just figured these were people who loved their fresh produce. I now know disfruta means “enjoy,” so it makes more sense how often it featured in ads for restaurants, concerts, and festivals.
I was right about one thing, though. Chileans love their produce, and for good reason. This stuff is top notch. Many locals and expats have told me La Vega Central is the best place to get the freshest fruits and vegetables for the best prices in Santiago. I heard about the market even before we moved here, but the recommendation almost always came with a disclaimer: Hold on to your bag because the crowds are insane!
Shopping mobs + insecurity about haggling in Spanish = anxiety. So as much as I wanted to get my hands on those big juicy strawberries, I chose instead to buy the overpriced underripe fruit at the supermarket.
Finally, my Spanish-speaking friend Sarah and her Chilean friend Ariel invited me along to explore the market. Although some stalls were closed for Monday’s Columbus Day holiday, there was still plenty of mouth-watering produce for the picking. Best of all, we didn’t encounter the nightmarish crowds of weekend lore.
Right off the bat, I saw an old man selling pumpkin on the sidewalk and felt myself drawn to the bright orange glowing in the sunlight. I snapped a photo, and he promptly barked at me, so I apologized and bought some pumpkin. (Back home, I roasted it with some other chopped veggies and ate them over couscous with goat cheese. Yum!)
Ariel taught me how to ask first before taking photos, which allowed me to connect a bit with the vendors. Puedo sacarta una foto, por favor? Everyone responded with a kind smile, and some even posed.
I found my precious strawberries and bought a whole kilo for less than $2. It’s not customary to haggle here, Ariel explained.
I also bought these beautiful little potatoes, which Ariel had never seen. We found out they were from Peru. (Tony cooked the potatoes for me, and I’m sad to say they tasted pretty much like soil and had a strange gag-inducing texture.)
Sarah found celery almost as tall as she is.
Pretending to choose tomatoes.
There was so much more than just fruit and veggies. At one point, a vendor walked past us pushing a trolley towering with toilet paper while I stood next to drums of cat food and dog food, waiting for Ariel to sample almonds at a nut shop. I saw ladies selecting fresh fish from a tray of crushed ice next to a stall hawking spices and tea. Refrigerated meat cases held every cut of every animal you could imagine. Some tiny shops were bursting with a little bit of everything, including the ubiquitous cats.
I liked this cool sign.
But the same stall had a creepy display of naked Barbies and baby dolls. I asked Ariel about it, and he said, “I have no idea!” I was relieved to hear it wasn’t a cultural thing.
Sure it was a holiday and less crowded than usual, but we were all impressed by the cleanliness of the market. Even the public restroom was pleasant with TP, running water, and soap.
Now that I understand the lay of the land, speak a few useful Spanish phrases, know to pay the posted prices, and realize the power of a smile, I feel less intimidated about shopping at La Vega. It’s still much more intense and time-consuming than a trip to my local supermarket, but it is worth an occasional visit.
When our new friends here in Santiago get excited about the nightlife, Tony and I can only nod supportively. We’re unlikely to ever see the other side of midnight again. And yet, this extrovert’s need for belonging sometimes leads to unexpected choices, like saying “yes!” to a cello concert.
Starting at 9 p.m.
On a Wednesday.
The invitation came from one of Tony’s colleagues, Michelle, who is one of our favorite peeps here. We just couldn’t say no.
Tony and I arrived at Teatro Caupolican about 10 minutes early. The line snaked down the block. Surely these were people waiting to buy tickets, I thought. I confidently pulled Tony out of the line and up to another entrance, where we were told to get back in the line. Slowly, we inched our way inside and up to our seats, which were the equivalent of plastic folding chairs bolted to the concrete floor. The concert had already started. Gentle classical music wafted up from the stage, where Luka Šulić and Stjepan Hauser sat in the spotlight with their cellos.
Michelle and her posse soon appeared, although we didn’t get a chance to say more than a quick hello before the concert took a turn for the crazy.
I had seen this YouTube video of the duo – known as 2Cellos – and expected their music to be a little edgy.
But I hadn’t properly researched them. I was unprepared for the crowd to rush the stage at the first notes of “You Shook Me All Night Long,” and I hadn’t anticipated the strobe lights or strap-on electric cello that enabled Hauser to continue rocking out while he danced across the stage in blinking red devil horns. One lady tossed her cardigan on the stage, which Šulić grabbed and swung overhead sexily. Tame for a rock concert, maybe, but I would bet few cellists can claim such displays of adulation.
When the house lights came up between songs, we could see the 4,500-seat theater was packed.
Fans waved their phones the way we used to wave lighters, almost in a trance to the beat of the music. Women screamed and shouted, “I love you!” At one point, there was a chant that reverberated through the crowd. “What are they saying?” I asked my seat mate, Kristen. She didn’t know either, but we soon discovered it was a plea for a particular song, and the cellists responded. The crowd went wild.
2Cellos interspersed their playlist with a few classical pieces, but they mostly stuck with rock favorites by AC/DC, Michael Jackson, Guns N’ Roses, U2, Nirvana and Sting.
I had wrongly assumed the two guys were brothers. According to a November 2014 interview in The Strad, the two Croatian cellists met when they were about 14.
“When we were in Croatia, the people following our careers considered us to be big rivals,” says Hauser. “We were always great friends though – as soon as we met we felt a strong kind of camaraderie. There’s still some rivalry, but in a healthy way: we push each other to be better and better. On stage we make each other play to a higher standard.”
The duo’s website, 2Cellos, says their 2011 YouTube rendition of Michael Jackson’s “Smooth Criminal” opened the door to fame. They scored a record deal with Sony MasterWorks and an invitation to tour with Sir Elton John, who says in a video testimonial: “I was absolutely astonished! I said, oh my God, I’ve never seen cello players play like this. I’ve never seen cello players rock out. And I said, God, I’ve got to have them in my band straight away.”
The show was incredible, totally worth staying out late on a school night.
When we were lounging lakeside back in June, we bemoaned our brief summer break. Accustomed to about eight weeks of downtime in Michigan, we resented having to go back to work in just one month. Our school in India wrapped up June 1, but we had to report to our new jobs in Chile on July 3.
“No fair!” we cried. “We’ll just come back in September when we have a week off!”
Well, that was a stupid plan. I made it even stupider by screwing up the flight reservations. I must have been using last year’s school calendar when I booked the tickets for Sept. 24-30. In fact, the break was a week earlier. When I realized my mistake, I phoned the airline, cried and pleaded, and got the fee waived. However, I still had to pay the difference in the fare, which was about $700 total … and we had to wait till Saturday night to leave Santiago … and our flight back to Chile had two stops. Awesome.
That meant we had a total of four full days in Michigan at the rate of about $700 per day, counting airfare and car rental. Kind of ridiculous.
Anyway, it turned out September was a wonderful time to be there. Trees were just starting the transformation from green to scarlet. The lake was still warm enough for a swim, and the weather was perfect. With school in session, our neighborhood was practically deserted. Sitting on the deck with my coffee in the morning, I watched the ducks frolicking in the lake and listened to the chattering of birds in the willow tree. Maybe it was worth the money?
We didn’t have internet or phone service at the lake, so we spent a little time each day using the free wifi at McDonald’s. That was the only way to contact my sister Kate to make plans for the day.
Tony enjoyed pottering around the house, but I spent most of my time hanging out with Kate and 3-year-old Jack. His big brothers were in school, so he got a lot of attention.
We had a little fashion shoot with Chilean vests, hats and flags.
It might not have been the most fiscally responsible choice to fly home for less than a week, but it was lovely nonetheless.
