It’s summer in this part of the world, and I’m trying to absorb every possible part of it. This means things like days at the pool on Cerro San Cristóbal but – more importantly – it means summer food.

Via D'arcy Norman

We’re grilling everything. It’s silly to say that’s a summer thing because our barbecue in on a covered balcony and can be used at any time of year, but it still feels summery, so hush. And we’re enjoying all the delicious summer fruits, which are my favorite produce of the year. Sweet tomatoes, perfectly ripe nectarines, shiny strawberries…I can’t get enough.

I do, however, have a question. Why are there no strawberries at my feria?! I see them piled high on styrofoam trays for sale on street corners everywhere. Big, juicy, red – perfect. But for whatever reason, they haven’t made their way to the feria, and I’m not sure why.

Via *clarity*

Rodolfo’s guess was that strawberries aren’t good business for people who sell produce at open-air markets, possibly because they’d go soft and unappealing in the all-day heat. But it’s pretty hot on street corners, and I’ve seen people out there for hours, so I don’t know how good that argument is.

I suppose it could be a question of simple economics – I’ve seen strawbs for sale on corners in Providencia and Las Condes, but I go to the feria in La Florida. Perhaps my love of these berries has to do with my upper-middle class roots, or (an admittedly more likely possibility) maybe for whatever reason strawberries are expensive right now and not selling well outside the wealthy nororiente part of town.

Via bdebaca

Either way, it’s no problem. There’s a Saturday strawberry vendor a block from my apartment. I just can’t quite figure out why the produce on offer varies from one street to another. Any ideas?

I’m taking care of business this Saturday morning – you know, exciting things like washing dishes and organizing the chaos that is my living room – so it seems only fitting to do the same here in cyberspace.

First and most importantly, I now have a Facebook page! I will be honest and say that I don’t really know why I apparently need a Facebook page to be a well-rounded blogger, but I’ve heard from enough smart, successful people that I do, so I finally go on to it.

Via El Frito

I would love a like, of course, as well as any suggestions as to what you might like to see over there. More photos? Questions on what you’re up to? Observations on daily life? Links to other blogs I’m reading? The latter two can be found on my Twitter stream, but we can take it to Facebook too. And I’m happy to answer questions and comments there as well as here or via email, whatever medium works best.

Secondly, I’m on StumbleUpon and stumbling away. But I would love to follow more people, so let me know if you’re there too.

Alright, nerd talk over. Go enjoy your weekend.

One of the highlights of the location of my dad’s house in England is the fact that it allows me to say that on our last full day in England, we popped over to Wales. You know, just popping to another country for a couple hours, no big deal. Popping is a bit harder from San Francisco or Santiago.

Conwy and Llandudno are two seaside towns in northern Wales that feature prominently in my childhood memories. My dad and I would often go, although we wouldn’t really do anything – the occasional dip in the ocean, sure, but it’s not always warm enough for full-on beach time even in the summer. But doing was secondary to enjoying the outing.

Conwy’s claim to fame is its castle, which sits at the entrance to town and connects to the old city walls that surround most of the town. You can walk the walls, but due to the drizzle, we opted to skip it.

Instead, we headed for the high street, home to quaint buildings and cozy cafes. In the summer, the fish and chip shops and souvenir stores are the real draw, but on a grey day a coffee sounded perfect.

Fortified against the cold, we made our way past the city walls and down to the quayside. Sadly, the Smallest House in Britain was closed for the winter, although I’m not sure I would have fit inside even if we could have opened the door.

Our next stop was Llandudno, across the peninsula. The was THE place to see and be seen in Victorian times, and many of the buildings reflect that charm. Hawaii it’s not, but there’s still a decent beach scene on a nice day. Of course, on this particular day, we were the only crazies braving the rain for a look at the waterfront.

And so it was that, after a few pictures and some lunch, we popped back over to England. Where the weather wasn’t much better, but at least we had the good sense to stay inside for the rest of the day.

The only time I’ve ever been to a public pool is when I was a child vacationing in the South of France. Yes, I am aware of how that sentence makes me sound. But, until last weekend, it was true. I grew up in a part of California where it was normal that many of my friends and I had pools, and why would we pay to go to a communal pool when we could just walk out our back doors?

Now, however, I live in a building without a pool. It’s literally the only thing I would change about our apartment, but sadly no one asked me. Every summer, I bemoan my pale skin and try to mooch off friends. But last weekend Rodolfo and I decided to take matters into our own hands by going to one of the public pools on Cerro San Cristóbal: Piscina Antilén.

San Cristóbal is a big hill in the middle of Santiago which functions as a park. Tourists often take the funicular up to see the big statue of the virgin and gaze down at Santiago, but there are hiking and biking trails, picnic areas and two ruinously expensive pools – $6.000 (US$12) for the smaller, lower-elevation Tupahue and $7.500 (US$15) for Antilén.

I was shocked by the prices, but they seemed to serve to keep the crowds to a good level. Although we were told that in January and February, when so many santiaguinos go on vacation, the pool looks like this, but in December and March it’s packed. And although I won’t say that $15 for a pool is worth it, I will say that I have no regrets.

The view is gorgeous from 800m above sea level. The only building even remotely close to our height was the in-progress Costanera Center, which will be the tallest building in South America when it’s done.

We also had a view of what I think of as the back-side of Santiago: the comunas of Huechuraba, parts of Recoleta, even as far west as Conchalí. It’s not exactly tourist-central, nor is it a part of town I tend to go to, although Huechuraba is now well-connected thanks to a tunnel going through San Cristóbal hill to make the commute easier for people headed to the business park Ciudad Empresarial. Santiago really is growing fast.

I wish they offered season passes to the San Cristóbal pools. I’m sure I’d take advantage, and I’d happily pay up-front for sunshine all summer. At $7.500 per person, this is unlikely to become an every weekend activity. But as an occasional splurge, it’s a lovely setting in which to soak up some rays.

More in this series:
Saturday in Santiago

First things first. That sponsored guest post yesterday: sorry if you hated it, but we’re doing that for a while. I love writerly integrity, but I love money more. I do however promise to draw the line somewhere before posts about fake Rolexes and Viagra.

Anyway. In blog-time I’m still in England, having just been bowled over in two very different ways by our day-trip to York. The drive from my dad’s to York is short enough that we could have turned around and gone home at the end of the day, but instead of spending so long in the car, we decided to continue on to spend the night in Harrogate.

Before I tell you all about it, I have a question. Do normal people in the US know who James Herriot is? Or is this one of those bi-cultural things where I watched British TV shows and thought everyone else did too, only to later find that normal elementary school children do not read supremely long books about a Yorkshire vet in the 1940s? Anyway, if you’ve heard of James Herriot, we were in his part of the country. Moving right along.

Harrogate is a spa town in North Yorkshire, but we didn’t come for the healing waters. We came because it’s a cute little town that my dad and Jane like and because we’d been told we had to stay at The Balmoral Hotel, a little place they’d stumbled across which was decorated, in their words, “like a brothel.” Ok then.

I do see how the red and black color scheme evokes “brothel,” but it reminded me more of our Buenos Aires hotel than a place of ill-repute. I’d never want my home to be this over the top, but in a hotel room, I love it! And ok, if a couple of the chandeliers and that mirrored dresser showed up in my apartment, I wouldn’t complain. Even if my camera hated the lighting and reflections.

When not talking about the decor, Dad and Jane had been raving about the restaurant. Unfortunately, it was closed during our visit, but the hotel arranged a complimentary taxi to nearby restaurant The White Hart Brasserie.

I was surprised to find decor that evoked French country, primarily because I’d thought we were going to a restaurant called The Fat Badger. Turns out that’s the pub down the hall in the same hotel. I was not, however, drunk as I appear to be in this picture. Typically, in the other one, I look great, and my dad and Jane look bad. Majority rules.

To go along with the sophisticated decor was sophisticated food. Out of 4 appetizers and 4 mains, 7 dishes impressed us seasoned piggies foodies. Unfortunately the mushroom risotto was a serious letdown, but creative and delicious desserts saved the day.

I wouldn’t rush out and buy plane tickets just to visit Harrogate. That might be pushing it. But if you’re in the area, it’s a lovely little town to spend a couple days in, with a good restaurant scene and plenty of hotels. I’m sure there are even some that don’t look like a brothel, but I’ll stick with The Balmoral.

When you think of spa hotels, you usually imagine them to be in Mediterranean resorts, the Californian coast or the sun-kissed shores of Brazil. However, spa breaks can be enjoyed in some of the most unlikely locations. We have listed six spas in the most unexpected locations where you might seek to book last minute spa days.

Via Dennis Wong

Galos Caves, USA: Located in the perennially gridlocked city that is Chicago, these salt caves are an ideal place to relax. All you have to do to receive treatment at Galos Caves is breathe in, as the salt in the air is high enough to help improve respiratory and digestive problems. Soothing background music is played in the caves to enhance the treatment.

Chiang Mai Prison Spa, Thailand: This spa’s name may sound dodgy, but in actual fact, the staff here are female ex-prisoners who as part of their rehabilitation have spent over 200 hours training in the art of massage. Chiang Mai is recognised as offering one of the most affordable spa treatments in the world.

Beer Baths, Czech Republic: Famed for its beer, the Czech Republic is home to the surprisingly therapeutic Beer Baths. The treatment on offer here is spending time in a bath of hot beer, which is strangely relaxing, especially with all the bubbles entering every contour of your body. Once you’re done, you get a free beer at the end of your treatment.

Caudalie Spa, France: If you can have a beer bath, then surely wine-based therapy can’t be far around the corner. Caudalie Spa offers Vinotherapy, where the grapes on offer are supposedly helpful in slimming down. With the picturesque skyline of Bordeaux in view, it’s very easy to feel totally relaxed, particularly with natural hot springs on site.

Lime Spa, Maldives: A spa in the Maldives might not sound so weird, but the Lime Spa is underwater. Its location allows users to get treatment while gazing upon the tropical sea life, giving you a completely different, but no less compelling view of the Maldives.

Anesis Spa, England: Fish play a big part in the treatment on offer in this London-based spa too, but rather than being part of the view, they actually perform the therapy themselves. Based on a treatment favoured in the Middle East, Garra Rufa rish eat the dead skin from the feet of visitors, reflecting how they survive in the wild by eating the dead scales from larger fish.

This is a sponsored guest post.

Mercado Paula Gourmet is an annual food festival that we make a point to hit up every year. The entrance fee is a little steep at $5.000 (US$10), but for a fun afternoon with plenty of free samples, it’s worth it.

This year, there were the usual stand-bys, by which I mean plenty of olive oil and jams, but there were also some products I’ve never seen before. Chile has some great raw materials, and I love seeing them used in new – or at least new-to-me – ways. Antioxidant “superfood” powders, for use in anything from yogurt to baking, are a modern idea but take advantage of berries like the maqui which grow in the south.

On the other end of the spectrum, we found piñones, which are similar to pine nuts but come from the native Araucaria tree, called the monkey-puzzle tree in English. Preserved in oil and spicy merkén by native Pewenche women in the south, these are a traditional indigenous food being marketed to a new audience.

Of course, there were plenty of more basic items on offer as well. Bread and cheese aren’t too out-there, but then again, these weren’t your average breads and cheeses. We saw loaves of different sizes and flavors as well as cheese from La Quesería with flavors from oregano to smoked salmon, all delicious.

This year I felt like there were more stalls with kitchen gadgets. We found it easy to walk away from one of those magnetized knife strips – you know, the ones you hang up in the kitchen and stick your good knives to instead of having all those blades rattling around in a draw – given its high price, but I’m still amazed we made it home without one of these considering how tempted Rodolfo was.

There’s also plenty of food to eat at the mercado. International options range from sushi (eww, who wants sushi from a stall on a hot day?) to spanikopita, but of course there’s plenty of Chilean fare on offer as well. The cordero al palo - lamb cooked on a spit – smelled delicious, but the line was long enough to keep us away.

And of course, where there’s food, there must be drink. We had recently been wine tasting, so we didn’t stop by the wine tent, but we did try some of the artisan beers on offer. We passed on the green eucaliptus beer, but raspberry was pretty good.

The Mercado Paula Gourmet is usually in November, so mark your calendars. With so many delicious and inventive products on offer, you won’t want to miss it.

More in this series:
Saturday in Santiago

One of my pet peeves is when people who have known me for years ask about my trips to London when often, I’m happily ensconced in Cheshire, hundreds of miles from the city. Despite my recent posts, there is plenty to see on the island of Great Britain outside London.  One such place: York.

York is home to two major tourist attractions: a viking center that smells like poo and a big church. Have I sold you on it yet? How about this picture of the sign for the viking center in which it’s clear that the weather wasn’t exactly sunny?

In all seriousness, the Jorvik Viking Centre is an interactive museum which sheds light on the life of the vikings who lived in York – then called Jorvik – centuries ago. It really does smell like poo, but that’s only because part of the museum involves a ride through a reconstructed viking village, and the odor is intended to add an element of realism. Personally I would have been ok without that touch of realism. We didn’t get any pictures inside the museum, but luckily I found a real live viking in the gift shop.

Next up was the main attraction: York Minster. This church is absolutely massive, and every square inch has been painstakingly crafted. I’ve visited York Minster before, but I feel like this time I really appreciated the grandeur of it all. Words really wouldn’t suffice to explain it, so I’ll leave you with these photos instead.

London? What London? Clearly visiting York is just as good a way to spend a rainy English day.

Way back when, I asked you all to vote for me in a Kiwi Collection contest to win my dream vacation, an African Safari. While the winner of the vacation was chosen by random drawing – and obviously I did not win, or else you would have heard about it with copious !!!!!!!!s – your votes allowed me to win the consolation prize: a night at one of several hotels.

The Grand Hyatt Santiago was not one of those hotels. Originally we planned to use our free night in London. However after a bit of a mix-up, Kiwi generously offered us a hotel option right here in Santiago, and we accepted the chance for a little weekend getaway that didn’t require actually going anywhere.

The lobby is pretty old-school, with seemingly random Asian touches. I guess they’re not totally random, since the hotel’s two restaurants feature Japanese and Thai cuisine, but the theme only goes that far.

Looking up, however, things get a bit more stylish, with a domed skylight that keeps the lobby nice and airy. Plus they have glassed-in elevators, which I still love.

But the real draw here is the pool. Oh my god, the pool. We went during summer, and laying out by this little oasis was the perfect way to spend a Saturday afternoon. Palm trees, waterfalls, sunshine and fluffy towels – what more does a girl need?

Our room was comfortable and very spacious with a little lounge area that was the perfect spot to read once the sun went down and the breeze picked up outside. Considering it was “just” a standard room, I was impressed.

If I had one tiny little complaint, it would be that everything was somewhat overwhelmingly beige. I liked the artwork, which seemed to be the only non-beige thing in the room, and I wish the decoration of the room reflected that modern feel a bit more.

Breakfast was included, which I always like, especially when it’s good. I appreciate a continental breakfast, but a hot option or two is always a nice touch, and the Hyatt came through.

After breakfast, we weren’t quite ready to say goodbye. Rodolfo headed to practice while I took advantage of another sun-worshipping session. But once he was back, sadly it was time to head back to reality and say goodbye to what felt like an island paradise in the middle of Santiago.

More in this series:
Saturday in Santiago

You know those people who are all happy and bouncy and positive all the time? The ones who make you want to hit them because seriously, we are adults, and there are no fairies, and this is not cute, so stop pretending you are actually a ray of sunlight incarnate? My cousin Diane is not one of those people.

No. Just...no. (Via katmary)

She is one of the rare people who talks about pixies and stardust and miracles in her garden and actually convinces me not only that she believes it but that maybe I should too. I know, it’s out of character and yes, I’m feeling just fine, thank you.

One of the traditions over at The Dew Drop Inn at the start of the new year is that Diane will pick out a word for you. This comes from her real-life custom of celebrating New Year’s Eve with a bag of words – people draw one word and take it as they choose, be it as a talisman for the upcoming year or as something to forget with the next pour of champagne. If you comment asking to be included, she’ll draw one from her bag and email it to you.

Of course, you can’t expect someone like the woman I’ve just described to send an email which says “Emily, your word is _____.” Please. Instead, you get a mini work of art like this.

My word for 2012 is enchantment. I had a moment of jealousy when I saw all the words displayed – why didn’t I get wanderlust? Wanderlust is totally my word, Universe! I am an expat with a travel blog, for crying out loud!

But maybe the point is that I don’t need a word to make me think of wanderlust. Whereas I can certainly see the use in being reminded, from underneath the stress and routine of a work week and household chores and general life blahs, to look for the enchantment. It’s even a little travel-related in the sense that I’m always trying to remember that the biggest and most exotic trips don’t have to be better than explorations closer to home.

So I’m going with it. Look, I realize it’s just a random word, albeit a nicely presented, thoughtfully sent word. But the fact is that I for one could use a little more enchantment in my life, and I think plenty of others could too. Just stop me if I start talking about pixies, ok?

What’s your word for 2012?