No me toques ... OK, me toques

Translation: "Don't touch me. OK, touch me."

Folks, I've been keeping something from you. Not deliberately. We just had so much to blog about that this news kind of fell by the wayside. 

I'm a co-ed touch rugby player.

And I've decided to tell you about how this evolved in third person, because there are pictures of my feet in this blog post. Have you ever taken a picture of your feet before? They look like aliens. And although I know many of our readers well, I still feel quite vulnerable, revealing my feet to the world. So to make myself less uncomfortable, we're going to pretend I'm an observer of my own athletic endeavors, OK?

---

When Abby first arrived in Chile, her sweet host sister Pauli invited her to play touch rugby "with her." Abby had never played before. And she's not that confident in her ball-handling skills. But she thought it'd be a great way to meet Chileans and get some exercise, so she signed on.

Whoever does the rain dance on Wednesday nights had a heyday the first couple weeks of August. So Abby didn't get to practice with the team before the first game. What she did get was a rapid explanation of the rules of game as she and her host sister were sprinting to la cancha (field). 6 touches allowed. A girl scoring is worth two points. Don't throw the ball forward. That's about all she heard.

Abby soon found out that when her host sister said "play with me," she actually meant, "play against me." Abby and Pauli are not on the same team. In fact, they're on opposing teams. Abby was tossed onto a field with tiny clue of what to do, with extremely intense Chileans she didn't know, with her sister as her enemy.

The one advice Pauli did give Abby before she put on her I'm-gonna-pummel-you game face was, "If your coach yells at you, don't cry. Even though gringas always cry the first night."

Abby threw the ball forward. She was off-sides. She turned the ball over. She made penalties. And yes, she got yelled at. She also got stepped on. And now her toe-nails are going to fall off ... ironic, since her team name is BRUISERS. That should probably mean she should be bruising others with her ferocity. Instead, she is the bruisee week after week.

Do you see the black peeking from underneath the orange toe-nail polish? At least they're both black and wiggly in solidarity.

But don't worry. She's having fun. Honestly. She got a good laugh from the Nike stores-clerk when she told him her foot size was 11.5. She has realized she really likes sliding to touch opponents. Her fellow players have finally realized how to offer constructive criticism for the sensitive gringa. The field is pristine, perched high in the Andes above the glittering city. After games, she's allowed to go to the secret clubhouse for a Coca-Cola and team banter. She even gets to participate in the secret team salutation: "No me toques ... ok, me toques," followed by a big bear hug. 

So legit.

All the trophies Abby will never win in the clubhouse.

Nevertheless, a "good luck" is always appreciated :).