The opening of Christmas presents in Chile occurs at
midnight on the 24th-25th transition. The festive season gorging takes a slight
break on the 24th, although I’m not sure how widespread this is – it
may be a result of my complaining about how I feel like a prize pig being
fattened up for the oven on Christmas Day.
I’ve told them if I see anyone coming towards me with an apple, I’m
going to run away!
So, food-wise on the 24th, it was (relatively)
light salads and so on. Presents opened,
it was time for bed. My presents were
largely clothing and wine – perfect for an already full and heavy suitcase!
Oh, and the goat for tomorrow arrived. In a sack.
Dripping blood. The girls are not
happy. Alma went upstairs a bit upset
with the idea of what was happening.
Eventually she calmed down a bit and came down to wish her grandparents
good night, only to find them in the middle of chopping off the head!
The morning of the 25th was a hive of activity as
preparations for lunch commenced. The
poor old goat was splayed onto the frame for cooking over the BBQ, the wine
chosen, and much fretting over the lack of space in the fridge. Much the same as back in Oz!
My job has become the production of a sufficient quantity of
pisco sour, due to Andrea talking up my “skills”. Sadly it’s all chamullo and I’m very much an
apprentice. I have a method that varies
significantly but seems to produce acceptable results to my taste, although I’m
still not sure if when everybody says “Suave”, whether that’s good or really,
they want more pisco in it. Personally,
I like not being belted in the face by it!
An uncle and two aunts, plus a cousin arrived to share
lunch. All ate their fill (and
more). All felt slightly queasy
afterwards. Andrea and I didn’t eat
dinner, as we were still completely stuffed.
Another typical Christmas over and done with.
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