Feliz día del padre

So, not to just go off on machismo in Chile, but truthfully, every day is Father's Day here. Like, no joke, our father's day celebration today did not differ significantly from other meals we've had together. My host mom made the meal, my host dad sat at the table and waited for his plate to be brought, and he subsequently waited for his coffee and ice cream to be brought to him after the meal was done. My host mom then clears the table and does all the dishes herself. This is every meal in my house. Every single evening after dinner, my host dad says something along the lines of "gordita, traígame un cafecito porfa", (honey (lit. fatty) bring me a coffee, please) and although sometimes the answer is "get it your ownself" mostly she just brings him his coffee. He also refuses to prepare his own plate. At lunch, when he comes in from his office and the rest of us are already eating, my host mom has to put down her fork and get her husband his meal, all nicely arranged. We do not do family style dishing up here, because that would mean that Cristobal would have to get his own food off a central serving dish (oh the ignominy!) and put it on his own plate. How dare he have to do something so simple for himself? So yeah. Machismo. One thing that really truly bothers me about Chile, and is definitely an area where the US wins hands down. Also I ate rabbit. I'm not really sure how many other meats I've eaten that I probably wouldn't have if I'd known what they were, but I know they exist, because sometimes at dinner it's just better not to ask these questions and eat the carne in front of me.

Also this isn't really at all related, except that it has to do with my host dad: he found out that COPA (my study abroad program) offers us a tour of Villa Gribaldi and the cemetery next Friday; as an educational tour of the main torture facility of the Pinochet regime, and a chance to see the memorials to the desaparecidos and dead. He said, and I quote: "Oye pero todo eso de Villa Gribladi… es una mentira, po'" (All of that stuff in Villa Gribaldi is lies). He thinks that all the memorials and all this stuff about the disappeared and such is just a lie concocted by the leftist governments to follow Pinochet. And he just says it. It's not like other countries where military dictatorships happen, and after they're over, everyone agrees that they were wrong and that they killed a whole lot of people. In Chile, half the country still thinks of Pinochet as "mi general" and they still worship the ground he walks on! And the other half was oppressed by him or tortured, and have family or friends among the desaparecidos. "but all of that was just because the commies were going to rise up and kill us all! Us poor hardworking middle class!" Says my host father who just bought a Wii ($450) on a whim. I love my host family, but I can't stand my host father's politics. Not to mention, my host mom showed me a slide show which tried to tell me that all communists are rich people from Hollywood and that it's the right wing conservatives who actually do good and actually help the poor. And my host dad says that's why he supports the extreme right; they're the only ones who actually help anyone…

But yeah. Happy father's day. I really need to stop distracting myself with silly rants and just get back to the paper I'm supposed to be writing, but I really had to complain a little bit about that. Also, I find something problematic about COPA having our end of semester meeting in the swankiest country club in town. I mean… I'll post pictures soon, and this place was insane. I was intimidated by the wealth. And it was up on a cerro overlooking the city, and there were large indoor-outdoor heated swimming pools, hot tubs, amazing food; and even though I had a good time, I felt it was problematic to be a gringa and to be in a place that so obviously caters only to the absolute elite. Why is it all right for us to be in this place, when I know that my host family probably wouldn't even make it to the second gate, and they're pretty upper crust. It really drives home the economic disparity of Chile, to see the guy who sleeps in the park near my house, and then go to this exclusive club. But yeah, back to real work now!

Here is what our administration building looked like after it had been toma-ed. They were having a meeting in there while I was taking these pictures, and we went to talk to one of the girls. She said that after their meeting she'd be happy to let us in and show us around their toma-ed builiding. I'll have to get some more impressive pictures of the massive desk structures they throw together to block gates and stuff at other campuses. I'm impressed by the sheer artistry of it! Anyway, this is what a toma-ed building looks like. I guess in the video footage from BBC you can see the desks and chairs blocking the gates. It's pretty impressive.

All (or a few) of my shenanigans

So I find I discover something new and weird almost every day here, and one of my revelations in the past week is this weird fruit called “caqui or kaki”. It’s a winter fruit, apparently, and unlike other fruits that grow in winter, caqui trees lose all their leaves and just keep the fruit. My host mom described it as “una fruta triste y sola” because it looks so lonely there. However, one of our neighbors has one of the trees, and the effect for me is more like Christmas decorations. You know, oversized Christmas lights on a leafless tree. It just happens that these lights are attached, and apparently make a delicious snack.

Another revelation is the ridiculously large amount of English-language porn on Chilean television. I swear, if I turn on the tv past 11, porn is on every other channel. Porn and soccer, and bad American reality tv, such as that horrible thing about the playboy bunnies. And of course, “Rock of Love”; my host sister is obsessed with that one. I was kind of hoping that the reality tv craze would not have such a strong hold on other countries, but Chile is the US’s protégé in all things American consumer pop culture.

In other news, I am now a married woman. Don’t worry, our vows are not official, but there was a ceremony one interesting night in Barrio Bellavista. My friends Chris and Tim and I were all out at about one o’clock in the morning, and the homeless guy at the table next to us asked us to watch his coke while he ran to the bathroom. Of course, being the nice people we are, we agreed, however unreasonable we thought it that someone would actually steal his coke. Which they didn’t, until right as he was coming back and thanking us for our guard services. Some punk kid yoinked the coke and was walking away with both the glass and the bottle, and the homeless guy had to run after him to regain his prize. PS, if you’re ever interested, read up about the different social pandillas they have in most Latin American countries. When I say punk, we’re not talking some kid who thinks he’s a badass. We’re talking eighties heavy metal, hot pink Mohawk and chains look. Usually with motorcycles. My favorites are the pokemon though. I’ve probably mentioned them before. Then Homeless Guy asked if it was all right that he join our table.

His name was Carlos (I’m pretty sure, and it’s a safe bet anyway since half of Chile’s male population is named Carlos or Pablo. Or Juan. Seriously not an exaggeration). After sharing his life story, he told me I was beautiful; not an unexpected comment from a Chilean guy on the street. He thought that I was too pretty to be going without protection, because of all the uncouth Chileans running around, and that my friend Chris was just as good-looking. At least, that’s what I think he said, but he was kind of a mumbler and I was sitting the furthest away from him. Anyway, somehow he decided that beautiful people like us need to be together, especially so that way Chris could protect me from all the ordinarios (ghetto losers, and yes that was a classist comment on his part) running around. So we had an impromptu ceremony, where Carlos joined us forever in holy matrimony. Of course, I still couldn’t understand exactly what he said, but I believe it was something like “ésta es una promesa. Una promesa para siempre.” So I guess I’m off the market!

Anyway, that’s probably enough for now. The tomas (sit-ins or takeovers) at the University of Chile are pretty intense right now, and I haven’t gone to one of my classes for about two and a half weeks, and there’s no end in sight. Here’s a video from a protest last week: http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/americas/7424932.stm

It happened right outside one of my universities, and the metro station right there got flooded with the tear gas they were spraying, and they had to shut it down for a while. I was there that morning, but I missed all the fun. My host sister got caught with the gas when she was coming home from class, though. While I commend the Chilean students for being more politically active than us lazy American teens, they’re sort of screwing me over on the one class I needed here for my major. Kind of a bummer, but I’m sure it’ll somehow work out. In the meantime, there’s a teacher protest tomorrow so I don’t have class in the morning, and the truck drivers are in protest all across the country. So much political action… the US really needs to regain some of its politically active spirit, because if it’s widespread enough, the government cannot keep turning a blind eye.

So yeah, these are the sorts of shenanigans I get myself into here. Oo! Also, another good life experience – I went skinny dipping in the Pacific Ocean. Really good times; good, clean, invigorating fun! J

Oh pictures

Thought I'd share this picture, I think it's pretty funny. We're on the top of a cerro in Mendoza. We were told to pose, we don't normally stand like that.

Mendoza!

Hola mis compañeros,

So I realize that I am finding it much harder to update this thing than originally anticipated, although I shouldn’t considering how I’ve never managed to keep any kind of a journal for more than a week.

Firstly, I have a cold. According to Chileans, this is due to the following circumstances:

1) 1. Not wearing shoes in the house

2) 2. Not wearing a coat when it’s 75 degrees out

3) 3. Crossing the mountains

4) 4. Not wearing shoes in the house

5) 5. Not eating enough

6) 6. Not wearing a scarf

7) 7. Not wearing shoes in the house

And I will be cured if I just:

1) 1. Drink copious amounts of tea with honey and lemon

2) 2. Put honey in and on everything that I eat, which should include lots of fruit and toast

3) 3. Wear shoes in the house

4) 4. Stay in bed all day without moving

5) 5. Honeyhoneyhoneyhoneyhoney

I just got back from Mendoza, Argentina, which was a lovely experience. We went with this group from the Universidad Católica, mostly exchange students from all over and a few Chileans. The first thing I learned was that Chileans are the Germans of South America. Compared to the Argentineans, Chileans are super well organized, super punctual, and less friendly. Customs getting into Argentina were pretty disorganized; our bags didn’t even get glanced at for animal/vegetable-product contraband, yet it took us like 3 hours to get through. To get back into Chile, the inspection was significantly more rigorous, and the time spent, much less. To the Chilean definition of on time (20-30 minutes late) the Argentineans add an extra 40 minutes. And I got service with a smile, which was a happy change.

My favorite parts of Argentina: The food. The first night we went to a tenedor libre which literally means “free fork” but is actually a buffet. It was so much food, and all of it was so delicious! This perhaps was in part due to the fact that I was starving, but it all was just so good to me. As was the very nice cabernet sauvignon we had with it. And it was so cheap! And the second night, I know it will be hard to believe, but because Argentina is known for its meat, we went to a parrillada, where basically they serve you chunks of meat. And I ate a whole chunk of meat by myself and enjoyed it. It had some really good pepper sauce on it. Matched with the house Malbec, it was perfect. PS, wine with dinner, a fabulous idea. Here is a picture of me looking happy in Mendoza:

The wine tour: We went on a tour of a few viñedos, or vineyards, one very modern and one more of an artisan traditional place. Both were really cool, as the pictures I’m putting up will attest. Also, the wines we tried there were delicious. We also went to an olivería, where they grow olives and make olive oil. They fed us bread with sundried tomatoes and olive oil. Such a simple, delicious snack. And the cheapness! I can’t get over it, the wines at these places, where they’ve been aged for a year in oak barrels and left to ‘develop’ for another 4 years only cost like $10. No joke.

My least favorite part of Argentina: Okay, so in Mendoza, apparently the place to go on a Saturday night are these night clubs way out on the outskirts of town, like a half hour away. In order to facilitate travel to these places, there are bus companies that will pick you up in downtown Mendoza and take you there, then return to give you a ride back later. And when I say later, I mean 6:30 in the morning. So yes, I was out dancing until 6:30 in the morning Saturday night. I mean, this is all well and good, everyone likes dancing, except for the Argentinean boys. The last few hours I was there, I could not walk 20 feet without being grabbed by multiple guys asking me to dance (‘asking’ might not be the right word… more like demanding). If I was dancing with my girlfriends, guys would come up behind me and grab me and, I kid you not, lick the back of my sweaty neck. It was gross. I could not move for fear of harassment from these boys. And they don’t get the hint. You start dancing with someone else and they just follow. But that was the only dark spot on what was, on the whole, a lovely trip and a lovely night out on the town. Hey, at least I got plenty of practice at ditching random guys…

Well anyway, now I must mess around with pictures; I’m adding another three albums, recounting an asado at my prof’s house, our trip to the world’s largest underground copper mine and it’s ghost town, and of course, Mendoza.

PS, if anyone would like some Chilean wine as a souvenir let me know. It’s cheap here, and it’s good.

Oh the days of totalitarian military control...

So my host dad worked for the government during the military dictatorship. Well actually, he worked in the same government job under Allende, then Pinochet, then for another few years in the democracy after the end of the dictatorship. And according to him, yeah, Pinochet had some issues with human rights, but it was only the poor people who died. No joke. Oh, and all the political dissidents just got exiled, not killed. He says working under Allende sucked because everyone walked around with guns, but that under Pinochet, there was much less corruption, and better working conditions. Today he says the whole government is all about stealing, and while there may be some truth to that, Chile has the least corrupt government in Latin America. Also, apparently Chile under Pinochet was a utopian society where everyone who worked hard was rewarded with promotions and more money, regardless of race, religion or political affiliation. And the neoliberal policies instituted under the Pinochet regime along with the policy changes that keep the current government from changing much are the best thing ever. True, Chile has a good economy right now, but it is also locked into an economic policy it cannot free itself from, and that could eventually strangle it. Of course, my host dad is also a Bush supporter and fan of his foreign policy and all around enamored of the United States and our neoliberal economics. He wants the United States to make Chile just a satellite country that happens to speak a different language. The only way for Chile to develop is if outsiders come in and do it for them, preferably Americans, but he wouldn’t say no to Europeans. Yeah sure, it may screw over some people, but they’re mostly just the poor ones so it doesn’t matter.

Chile’s political climate with respect to the military dictatorship and the current Bachelet government is really weird. Talking about politics is generally a no-no, because the country is still divided over Pinochet. As in, a lot of people look back on those years as ‘the good old days’ and see nothing good coming from the current left-of-center government. Also, there are both the tortured and the torturers walking around on the streets in Santiago. There is no really large effort to address the human rights violations here like there are in other countries. Chile is not like Argentina, where the whole country generally agrees that there were human rights violations during the dictatorship and these need to be unearthed and discussed. In Chile, yes there are movements for discovering the truth, but there is no national drive to look at the events of the dictatorship. The country is fractured over Pinochet, and no one talks about it. Also the fact that the country has a female president is apparently just a big practical joke on the part of the youth here. Voting is mandatory, so the youth, disillusioned with politics, decided to elect a woman. So no one likes her, and everyone is sick of the current coalition that’s been in power for the last 15 years or so. It’s looking like they might switch over and elect people from the more conservative party in the next election.

So that’s my rant on politics in Chile, hope you enjoyed. I have to say, I’m a little freaked out to live with my host dad who was clearly a supporter of the military government. Freaked out more in ‘oh my gosh these people do actually exist’ rather than actually feeling uncomfortable. So now I feel like I’ve been given a very interesting opportunity to observe someone with a completely different world outlook. I’ve lived all my life in liberal places with little or no contact with seriously different political views. Because when I say conservative here, I’m not talking like a republican. I’m talking like as far right as you can go. Republicans and democrats are really not radically different, especially in comparison with the extreme political parties of other countries. So I suppose I’ll take advantage of this glimpse inside a completely foreign political mind.

Raindrops keep fallin' on my head

Today it is cloudy for the first day since I’ve been here. Living in Santiago is very much like living in a climate-controlled bubble most of the time. Every day it gets up to about 80 degrees during the day and down to around 50 at night, but it is always sunny and the sky always clear. It does, in fact, freak me out a little bit that there are clouds, after living here for a month. But apparently we’re getting on toward winter and it’s supposed to be rainy this year.

Speaking of rain, that’s basically all it did while I was in Patagonia this weekend. The end of the world was very damp. And cold. And involved eating large amounts of peanut butter and trail mix, and living with three sweatshirts on at all times. However, the views were gorgeous. The sky there is ever-changing, so sunset is a spectacle. Watching the sun reflect off these snow-covered mountains and bouncing off the clouds turning the sky into a spectrum of deep violet to turquoise is amazing, and most definitely not something that can be caught on film. A fact that didn’t end up concerning me much since I realized my camera’s batteries were dead about fifteen minutes after we got to the national park. I’ll just have to rely on others for a photographic account of the adventure.

There was also no pressing need to speak Spanish while there since 95% of the people we saw were foreigners, either from Europe or the US, with some people from Israel and other parts of Latin America thrown in. I also met far more students studying abroad with programs in Santiago in Patagonia than I have while actually in Santiago, including some that we met at a hostel and whose program office is right across the hall from ours. So, while traveling to Patagonia did not necessarily put me into contact with Chileans, I at least met some nice Americans.

I do now know a Chilean guy in one of my classes! For my jazz class we have a group project to do, and we had to pick groups on Monday. Being the optimist that I am, I went in thinking “oh shit oh shit I freaking hate the world no one is going to want to work with the stupid gringa I’m just going to end up working by myself because I’m a loser screw Chile screw these cliquey students screw this class I freaking hate this bullshit.” And then this kid named Pablo asked if I’d work with him. To which I responded with a somewhat vacant stare because I hadn’t had any coffee yet, and that combined with the shock of not being a social outcast caused me to lose all of my comprehension and speaking skills, in both Spanish and English. So now we’re doing a project on Cannonball Adderley and he greets me when I come into class. He’s really nice, so I guess working with a linguistically challenged gringa is enough of a novelty to be entertaining, because my sparkling personality has yet to show itself. But I feel much less like a loser in that class now.

On Saturday I’m visiting the deepest copper mine in the world and the city that sprang up around it, home to the first bowling alley in Chile. The town, Sewell, was home to many transplanted families from the States, so it’ll be like mini-America. Kind of like the Disneyworld “it’s a small world after all” version of American life. I really hope we get to take a boat ride through it and marvel at the intricacies of American culture. We’ll just have to be careful not to fall off the edge into the squalid living conditions of the people who actually worked in the mine. It’ll be fun.

Soda Crackers. Why are they so popular?

So Chile is obsessed with soda crackers. I sincerely don’t get it, but they’re like the dessert or snack after almost every meal. Don’t get me wrong, a soda cracker with some honey or jam on top is pretty delicious, but it isn’t just a tasty (fairly) healthy snack here, it’s an obsession. And there are quality soda crackers and low calorie ones and gross ones, but I couldn’t honestly say they taste any different. Clearly my palate is not sophisticated enough to appreciate the delicacies of the soda cracker. So I suppose my question is, is this just a Chilean phenomenon, or are other countries, particularly in Latin America, equally enthralled with the soda cracker? Addy, do they obsess about this tasteless treat in Ecuador?

Right now is the beginning of the grape harvests in the wine vineyards, so there are wine festivals (vendimias) in a lot of the small vineyard towns hereabouts for the next few weekends. Apparently a vendimia is the Chilean equivalent of a county fair but with wine and perhaps cheese instead of cattle and pigs. Not that I don’t love me a good county fair (or the state fair, fried snickers on a stick) but something tells me going to a vendimia will be a blast. We’re thinking about making that happen in the next few weeks, seeing as no one has classes on Fridays and travel is so cheap.

Also, another random thing that I’m just thinking about since I just took a shower. It is absolutely disgusting how much dirt I manage to get on me in the course of a day. To help quantify this for you, when I showered today, the soap turned a grayish color from all the dirt I was rubbing off my skin. I sometimes think I’m looking tanner, but it turns out to be evenly spread dirt that disappears with a shower. Even though the pollution here isn’t exactly visible, it gets all over you and sticks to all the sweat you produce in the heat of the day leaving you all sticky and dirty. I’ll leave you with that cheery mental image.

Carrete Cultural and back to Valparaiso

I just put up a bunch of pictures, so feel free to look. They’re from the carrete cultural I went on, which was essentially a field trip. We went to the Palacio Cousiño, a beautiful mansion built with money from the mining industry; coal and silver mostly. The guy who built it died before its completion, so only his wife and children lived there. She never remarried, and is one of the richest women in history. So rich, in fact, that she loaned money to the Chilean government so they could have a naval fleet in la Guerra Pacífica.

We also went to the Mercado Central, which is a gigantic fish market with several attached seafood restaurants. We were like a parade of white people when we were wandering through the market, and it made me feel the most visible and most US of any experience I’ve had here. All of the stall owners hailed us and asked us where we were from, pulling out their high school English, and all of the restaurants tried to convince us to eat at their establishment. It wasn’t scary or intimidating to be so noticed; it was more like being in a parade. Everyone we walked past was thrilled to see us and talk to us, and we just walked on past, enjoying their good wishes. A little odd, but definitely a valuable experience.

The other photos are from the program trip to Pablo Neruda’s house in Isla Negra and Valparaíso. Since this was the second time in Valpo, I concentrated my photography on the awesome street art. I think I want to learn how to paint and find some artistic talent so I can just go to Valpo and paint these awesome murals for a living. Sometimes I just crave eating something that is really un-Chilean, so when we went to the beach afterward, two of my friends and I went to McDonalds and got some French fries, and then some ice cream at a fancy ice cream place next door. I’m sure you’re all delighted to know that Chilean French fries taste exactly like US ones. I was pretty surprised. Too bad there wasn’t a Wendy’s around, because frostys and French fries are a beautiful snack! Oh how norteamericana did I feel right then… Oh and Pablo Neruda is really into his nautical themes and collected those statues they put on the front of ships. His house is full of knickknacks and there’s a whole room of seashells. And he only wrote his poetry in green ink, because it is the color of life and positive energy. His bedroom has the most beautiful view of the ocean ever and I want that to be my bedroom. That’s the sum total of what I will take with me about Pablo Neruda’s Isla Negra house.

I also got to go out on a boat in the Valparaíso harbor/port/bay thingy (I’m not up on my sea terminology). But I didn’t take any pictures of the military boats because that’s illegal.

Pictures

Or they can be found at the website under "about me" (look right).

Just call me Lobster Liz...

Let my preface by saying I really did put on sunscreen at least 3 times and there’s a freaking hole in the ozone layer here…

So I look like a lobster. A very splotchy lobster who clearly was distracted when applying sunscreen, but a lobster nonetheless. I’m also not just saying this. My host mom Patty pointed at the lobster magnet on the fridge in reference to me. My host dad and brother both commented on my burned redness, and my host sister did a nice little snicker when she saw me. I could just see her thinking “Oh those gringas, they’re so hilarious with their sunburns”. But despite the sunburn, I feel so much better about my life and what I’m doing after this wonderful weekend, so I think it’s worth it.

Valparaíso and Viña del Mar are two gorgeous sister cities right on the Pacific Ocean. Seven of us girls from the program decided to get away for the weekend and go to Valpo (as we cool locals call it), and before you wonder about the extravagant amounts of money it costs to stay in a resort type place like Valpo/Viña, let me assure you that I only paid $16 USD for lodging for two nights and only $12 for transport to and from Valpo, and none of it was particularly sketchy. Oh how I love being in a different country…

Friday: we arrived in Valpo in the rain, and Julie, the girl whose Spanish puts all ours to shame, decided we should follow this lady who said she had a hostel. And yes, that did seem pretty shady to me at the time. We ended up in this adorable house in a slightly rundown part of Valpo that had been converted into a hostel. The dueña of the house was the nicest most adorable woman in the world, and everyone in her family were super friendly the entire time we were there. Truthfully, we didn’t do much besides eat, cook, talk and laugh. I had a wonderful time, but it doesn’t make for the best storytelling. Just imagine six soaking wet white girls walking through a gigantic open-air market buying veggies and fruit for our supper and cracking up for no apparent reason. That’s basically how cool we were.

Saturday: A small table with two bottles of wine on it collapsed onto my foot resulting in a small but fairly deep cut on my big toe. Don’t worry, though, the dueña fixed up my toe and told me to go wash it in the ocean. It’s fine now, but we were out the wine we wanted to have with dinner. We also went to the beach, and I “swam” in the pacific for the first time. By swim I mean stand at about knee level and let the waves slam into me, which generally resulted in me falling on my ass and getting salt water in my eyes. In case anyone is wondering, the Pacific Ocean is really amazingly cold. I also had an amazing ice cream cone and some serious sunscreen issues. Apparently I’m way too ADD to efficiently put on sunscreen. We ended the evening chatting with some other hostel guests who sell bonsai trees for a living. Incidentally, another drink that I don’t recommend trying is wine and coke. It is disgustingly sweet. And morally wrong.

Sunday: We went up Cerro Concepción, which is a hill with magnificent views of Valpo and the ocean. I took about a gazillion pictures, and some sort of link or photo spread will follow shortly. It was so beautiful. You have to ride up the cerro in a rickety asensor that looks like it’ll fall apart at any moment, but don’t worry, it was working today even if it hadn’t been the day before. I love it when the operators say such comforting things. There are truly no words to describe the beauty of that scene, and pictures cannot capture it. It isn’t something you’d ever find in the US and it really drove home to me how lucky I am to be in a different country with the freedom to experience such amazingly lovely things. This experience is invaluable, not only for the places I go but for the people I meet. I have met so many people here already whose passion and personality make me feel honored to know them. This applies to some of the Chileans I’ve met but also to the people in my program. I am so lucky to have this experience and to be with these people in this country. Even if everyone makes fun of my sunburn.

Things that make me realize I’m actually in a different country:

1SStray dogs – they’re everywhere. One followed my host mom and me for quite a ways and would wait for us to catch up again. This morning on my way to the university there was a really aggressive seeming one that barked at all of the pedestrians scared me away from crossing the street. Here, you don’t pet any dog that seems cute; in fact it’s better to keep a wide distance. There’s also a lot of “abandoned dogs die” graffiti except the phrase is a lot more catchy in Spanish.

2. This doesn’t necessarily apply except that I found it hilarious: On TV there is a show, and I don’t remember the name, but it’s essentially the Chilean version of Starsky and Hutch. Like, it was intentionally based on that show, and it cracks me up, even though they talk so fast I can’t understand a word they say, which is now not the norm for me. I can understand everyone in my family, and get a general sense of what people on the street say! Yay, points for Liz! Also, speaking of TV, there are some amazing telenovelas here. The newest one that started on Monday is called “Don Amor” and is about this group of chilenos that go to Puerto Rico and stay in a haunted hotel. Like seriously. A whole lot of mystery and romantic intrigue as one could expect from any good telenovela.

3. Mullets! Chile is very much stuck in the late eighties. Here the word for mullet is chocopanda which is actually the word for this absurdly cheap kind of ice cream bar which costs about a US quarter that they sell in buses and stuff. They’re pretty good actually, but they’re considered low class. So they used this word for mullets. But don’t let the fact that they’ve got a low class connotation trick you into thinking that no one has one, they’re all over the place. It’s just the upper, classier classes that create the jargon, and they are in a definite minority with their non-mullety ways.

4. The idea that one could mix beer and soda. It’s this drink called fanschop which is a mixture of Fanta and schop which is the beer on tap. It’s actually not as bad as one might assume, considering what it is, because conceptually it kind of repulses me. My host family made this thing tonight where they opened up a melon like we would a pumpkin, scraped the inside so there were chunks of melon in it but it was still all whole, then poured white wine and sugar into it. Pretty tasty I must say.

Here are some pictures that I didn’t take, but I was there. They’re of Cerro Santa Lucia, which is a hill in the main area of Santiago, basically in downtown. It’s the place where Pedro de Valdivia, the Spanish dude who “conquered” Chile declared the country under Spanish sovereignty and himself governor of the new city of Santiago. You can climb up all these really steep steps to the top of the hill, and I did that but I don’t have pictures yet because I didn’t bring my camera. More to follow, they place is really big and really high. The fountain here is at the bottom, but the building is built into the side of the hill and that continues all the way up. You can’t walk through very much of it anymore because we are in the ring of fire for earthquake purposes, but hey, whatever.

CARRETES, PISCO, AND THE JOYS OF 2½ HOURS OF SLEEP

One of the main social things that youngsters like me in Santiago do is go out to carretear, or “party”. Even our orientation staff recommends this as a way to meet people and enjoy ourselves. The thing about the carretes is that nothing actually gets started until about 12, which actually makes sense if you’re eating dinner at 9-10, which is what happens around here. And man, Chileans are serious about their parties. You go, and you don’t get home until dawn. Even middle-aged people, like my host parents stay out late; last night they didn’t get in until 3 in the morning.

So, because we wanted to “experience the culture” 9 of us from the program went out to carretear. We went to this area called Bellavista which is like the bohemian district of Santiago. It’s divided into the good area and the bad area. The street Pio Nono is full of stray dogs and trashy looking bars and a whole bunch of sketchy people on the street. However, you walk through a gate to the Patio Bellavista and you’re in this adorable patio full of bars and clubs and restaurants. The transformation is enormous.

First, we went to a bar in the “good part” of Bellavista, and our waiter Diego (who said I have the most beautiful eyes) brought us chicas pisco sour and beer for the boys. Pisco is the traditional Chilean alcohol, made from grapes, I believe. Pisco sour is just filled with sugar and pisco and sourness, and really it was wayyy to rich for me. However, if you’re ever in Chile, you have to try the pisco, because everyone drinks it. I prefer piscola, which ends up being a lot of like a rum and coke, but with pisco instead of rum.

After playing a rousing game of never have I ever (I know, seriously that’s what we did), we adjourned to the trashy section of Bellavista, which probably wasn’t a good idea but we were looking for something a little less expensive. And we found it: 1 liter of beer in a gigantor bottle for 1500 pesos or $3USD. By the time we left, some people were really trashed, and it was 5 in the morning. Oh and PS, they were playing 90s US pop music along with music videos at the second place we went.

Apparently this is a pretty standard weekend night for the kids around here, and the only way they can survive it is because of the siesta, the most marvelous creation in the world. It doesn’t matter if you didn’t sleep much at night; you can just sleep in the afternoon.

ON PLANES, TRAINS, AND AUTOMOBILES

So you know how you hear those horror stories about people who get stuck next to the most annoying person in the world for a 9-hour plane flight? I now have one of my very own, and, without sounding boastful, I think I can assure you that it was particularly horrific. From Miami to Santiago, I sat on the aisle of the central section of the plane. There was one interior seat, and then Annie Gonzalez was in the seat on the other aisle. Annie and I were actually hoping that no one would take the seat in the middle because it remained empty so long, but no, oh the joys of standby passengers.

His name was Michael, he was from Long Island, and he invited us to his wedding in two weeks. He also refused to shut up. Just to get a sense of him, here are a few classic Michael moments:

He offered me a “half” of one of his prescription sleeping pills, which he himself was chasing with beer and vodka in enormous quantities. He also peer pressured me more about drinking than anyone I have ever met.

He tipped the flight attendants telling them “don’t forget about me, I’m the most important person on the plane” and told Annie and I, “I own this plane, whatever you want, just let me know.”

He met his soon-to-be wife in Cancun where he went to party, and she worked as a massage therapist. She has made him a better person, which makes me wonder how he was before, because he’s apparently still a pill-popping alcoholic. Since then, he’s flown to Santiago 8,9,10, or 11 times. Each time he told the story (each of us got several renditions of the same material) the number changed.

I was reading with headphones on and he elbows me in the side, and says, “Hi.” To which I respond, “Hi” but in that why-are-you-bugging-me way. He follows up with, “you hate me, don’t you”

Michael did not shut up from the moment we climbed into the airplane at 11:15 until finally he passed out at 3:00. And he passed out halfway on top of me. Even the flight attendants felt sorry for me. Oh the joys of flying. But really, we should go to his wedding. No, really, it’ll be awesome.

People drive like MANIACS here, and sidewalks do not lend themselves to walking. I thought I was going to die about a billion times while I was in the car with my host dad. Especially when he turned around to tell me things.

I don’t actually have anything on trains. I’m sorry.