9 weeks and one day to go - Pensions

Ever since I came to Chile I've been paying into a pension scheme. Yesterday I thought I'd pop into one of the pension company's offices to see if there was any chance of getting this money back.

Now, anyone with any experience of Chilean bureaucracy will know just how wishful this thinking is. Any official procedure is a bastard mix of colonial style requisites involving elongated pieces of paper, rubber stamps, finger prints and giant signatures, normally complicated even moreso by some half-brained attempt to modernize the system made ten years ago with floppy disks and scanners.

If my words don't do the complexity of this process justice, perhaps think of trying to get a crystal from Richard O'Brien and you'll get the general idea.

Keep in mind that on top of this, what I am essentially trying to do is take money away from an insurance company. I think I'd be more confident if someone asked me to go and get that salmon from the hungry Grizzly Bear.

However, in Chile they say, En pedir no hay engaño* so I thought I'd ask. The friendly woman with a wry smile and a shrill voice patiently explained the process to me.

The first requisite required me to travel back in time and include a clause into any contract I've had that stipulates that I would one day be withdrawing my pension fund from Chile. An inauspicious start indeed.

In the case that the work was freelence, i.e., without a contract, then a receipt is required for each payment, obtainable from the tax office (Ha!). I've been freelance for about 5 years now so that's probably only 500 receipts to be checked over.

Finally, all professional certificates and documents must be verified by my country of origin. A costly process that takes about 6 months. You might as well ask the Queen to turn up and vouch for you and then they'd still probably want to see photocopies of all her titles.

I AM the Queen you know.

So. Now I have a pension fund accumulating interest in Chile and when I'm 65 I'l be able to go to the Chilean Consulate in the UK and collect my pesos. Ah well, at least it'll get me out of the house.


*Literally 'In asking there is no deceit'. The English traslation would be, there's no harm in asking.

Ten weeks to go.

On the weekend I had my big Buddhist sale and freed myself of all the stress-bringing possessions I could get a fair price for. The truth is that it was almost a giveaway; I hate mixing business and friendships but I did make enough money to cover the costs of the kennels and to buy myself a new laptop.

 Old laptop, a kind donation by V & A

Now I just have to do my usual three weeks of indecision and reading up on computer spec. before I commit to the model I want to buy.

Mostly the garage sale was just a great excuse to get lots of friends over, gossip and drink tea and mate (South American tea).

Delicious mate, mixed with water and drunk through a straw with a filter at the end

Twice my poor San Franciscan neighbour was dragged from his flat so people could see how much we look like each other; apparently the neighbours have been confused as to who they're speaking to.

The vet came by again yesterday and gave the penultimate jabs to Dog and Cat and check they still beep when neared to the requisite machine. They do.

And today there is a strike. You can set your watch by the student strikes and consequent marches. Each semester starts quietly until about two months in when strike is suddenly called, classes are cancelled and re-cancelled until finally encroaching holiday-times force both sides into breaking bread and making peace.

Marches are usually good fun to see, half carnival followed by half-Beirut (Christ, showing my age with that reference. Hang on! -Checks Guardian front page-) or half-Burundi (nice save), and with the added bonus that the main roads are all closed to cars so today I could whizz along on my bike to the doctor's appointment to be told I need physiotherapy on my knee because I keep whizzing around on my bike.

Me, bike, whizzing

Oh, and for the last time for me, and for anyone in Chile (neo-liberal reform), I got my tax-rebate last night so I treated myself to a nice bottle of malty beer. Will this rationing never end?

Happy days.

Dog

A younger Dog in the mountains

Dog's real name is Marlene. Actually, I'm not sure what her original name was. She was already one and a half years old when I saw her one night dodging between three lanes of cars with her great udders swinging away beneath. I never discovered what happened to her pups nor anything more about her previous life; the only clues I have are that she was perfectly house trained, loves riding in cars, has two great big scars on her back and is terrified of men and bulky things and especially of bulky men.

Mistaking my come-here-away-from-the-cars gesture for a come-to-my-house-and-live-with-me-forever gesture she followed me home and then puppy-eyed her way into my apartment. Being a cat person I wasn't sure what to do with her so we spent the first couple of days just looking at each other. I got her a cardboard box which she hid in immediately and didn't eat anything for two days. That's the longest, by about one and a half days, that I've ever known her not to eat.

Standard/begging face. Do not look into her eyes. 

Though she's not keen on men, she adores women and children. And food. Though she's definitely improved, I still have to keep a constant eye on her as life on the streets has left her with a taste for some of the more undesirable morsels to be found in the gutter.

Though she never shows the same amount of joy with me as she does with any random woman or child, we get on pretty well. I think she sees me as the safe-haven and will put up with long walks in the hills and occasional attempts to teach her tricks as long as she gets food and a warm place to sleep.

Now we've been together for about eight years. It's been quite a journey. Looking back, finding her was probably one of the most formative experiences in my life and now, almost 8 years layer, we're preparing to move to Finland together. All that for a person who wasn't very keen on dogs. But I guess that's just the way life works; these things happen for a reason. Let them all be positive experiences. 

Cat and Dog on the balcony.