Santiago - March 7 & 8, 2020 - Very exciting days!

I am still trying to let all that we saw and heard today sink in. I've never witnessed or been a part of something so big, so important, and so meaningful.

Our expectations were great. We heard that perhaps a million women would gather on Avenue de Alamedas beginning at Plaza de Italia to march toward the center of the city, and they did.

We watched as women, young, old and all ages in between . . . and some men, began to walk carrying signs, flags, and banners. They were an excited, purposed-filled, happy bunch. Their enthusiasm and their passion made my eyes fill with tears. Stan bought for me a purple bandana promoting feminism. I put it on and we walked for a while with them. The crowd steadily grew larger and larger. They came from all directions. They chanted! They sang! They danced joyfully! They banged drums, while some of their banners read, iin Espanol, of course: "No More," "Silence Does Not Protect," "Decent Homes and Better Quality of Life," "Against Domestic Violence."

By noon, the street below us at our apartment, Avenue de Alamedas, was filled, wall to wall from as far as we could see from our 12th floor vantage point from the east which we think would be Plaza Italia to as far as we could see to the west. A solid mass of women! They made their voices heard and the sound was deafening. It carried on for hours. I simply could not stop watching. I just could not. And in a smaller fashion the march was still going on even more hours later.

It was simply beyond words. I support them and I pray for them. I admire their energy, passion and courage. Hell yeah, girls! Hell yeah!

Yesterday, Saturday, was much lighter. We walked to the neighborhood, Barrio Patronata, about a mile north of us and across the canal. We discovered this area on our trip a few days ago to the Cementario. The streets are like a bazaar. Colorful shops and kiosks line both sides of the sidewalk on both sides of each street. A live band performed American music, and there were throngs of people shopping, eating and socializing.

Some streets in this area specialize in offering children's clothes, some in clothing for the mujeres and some offer ropa for los hombres. We used our pitiful Espanol to ask directions, to find shorts for grande hombres (American men are a bit larger than Chilean men, especially young Chilean men) and to converse in general. We bought street food. We had cups of chilled, fresh-cut fruit . . luscious chunks of fragrant watermelon, pineapple, honey dew, strawberries and mango - the kind with no fibers. We had a skewer of chicken breast cubes, just-cooked over a charcoal fire in a cart right there on the street, spiced with picante salsa and offered with pan. Oh! It was so fresh, hot and tasty! And only 1 mil pesos each - that's about $1.20. A person can certainy eat for cheap on the streets of Santiago and the food is clean and fresh!

We walked and shopped and made genuinely sweet, friends who surely did not have to but made us feel welcome and perfectly at home. Yes, we walked and shopped until we could stand the heat and crowds no longer. We did find shorts for Stan and copper earrings for me.

Near our apartment we stopped for beers. Anyone who knows us at all understands that neither us are beer drinkers except in rare situations. Yes, we put away quite a bit of wine on a regular basis but beer? No. We did stop for beers in a lovely outdoor restaurant. Stan thinks he might be passing another kidney stone. Yikes! He is not is pain but I do think he feels irritatingly achy. Beer, as we hear it, helps kidney stones pass. So does a healthy dose of lemon water and a daily teaspoon of olive oil. Stan is trying all these remedies. My poor man, but he is so very brave!

We had fun sipping our ice cold beers - yes, they serve them cold here. But what caught our attention was a barefoot toddler. He was dressed smartly in navy shorts and a roomy collared shirt. He had long light brown hair, fine and silky as only a toddler can have. He was beautiful. He wanted to walk; his family, also seated in the same restarant, let him roam. He bothered no one. He simply explored. The notable thing to us was that he was barefooted and when we got glimpses of the bottoms of his feet, they were black! Such a contrast to the rest of him! The weather here is so dry that everything, especially the streets, sidewalks and all floors are covered with a light to heavy coating of dirt and dust. The bottoms of everyone's feet and shoes are black. Black like soot.

In the early evening we simply sat outside on the patio pool deck and enjoyed the peace. We chatted. It is amazing to me that after forty-five years, Stan and I still do not run out of topics for great conversations. It was a marvelously happy day.