Archive for October, 2007

The Rotunda

It seems that in every direction from our apartment, no matter which way we have to drive, there is a traffic circle, also known as a rotunda. Supposedly, these traffic circles are meant to speed up the flow at high-traffic intersections.

At one traffic circle near our apartment, six streets meet at a large circle. Each street has one, two, or three lanes that meet the circle. Needless to say, merging is an important driving skill.

Around the circle itself, there are also three lanes. The inside lane is supposedly the fast lane. The outside lane, one would assume, is for the cars that are about to exit the circle.

The important words are one would assume. I should know by now not to assume anything here is the same as the way it would be if this situation were to arise in the US.

In actuality, I have yet to figure out what mysterious force keeps all these cars from crashing into one another every few minutes.

Cars will enter the circle into either the outside or middle lanes, sometimes right in front of an oncoming car. It seems that I get cut off like this by entering cars more often if I am traveling in the outside lane of the circle, so I try not to do that unless I am about to exit.

Cars will exit the circle onto one of the connecting streets from ANY lane of the circle. It does not matter if I am traveling in the outside lane and about to exit, I have to pay close attention to the other cars traveling in the circle to make sure I am not cut off unexpectedly by a car that is exiting from the middle, or even the far inside, lane.

All this while trying not to hit any of the pedestrians who cross the streets in the crosswalks just at the exits.

Seriously, if someone figures this system out, please let me know, because I am dangerously lost!

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Where are you from?

I was walking from the school to the bus stop with Rachel this afternoon, and a random question popped out of my mouth. “Rachel, where are you from?”
“I don’t know, Mommy.”
“Are you from Chile?”
No answer.
“Are you from America? The United States?”
Still no answer.
“Are you Chilean?”
“Yes.”
“Are you American?”
“No. I don’t know, Mommy. Why do you ask me questions I don’t know the answers to? You don’t like it when I do that to you, Mommy. You really shouldn’t ask me things I don’t know the answers to.”
I apologize. I do hate it when she asks me crazy questions I don’t know the answers to. I am glad she figured that out.
“Mommy? Where am I from?”
I have to think about it for a second.
“Denver. You were born in Denver, Colorado. But now you live in Santiago.”
“Yeah, I knew that.”
I’m not so sure she did.

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