If You're a Hypocrite and You Know it Clap Your Hands

clap, clap!

I live abroad, outside of the country to which my passport says I belong, and I generally think I'm pretty cool for it and that it makes me a better, more interesting person. I'm very happy to live down here in Chile for the time being, getting to know the Chilean culture while still remaining at arms length most of the time (born a gringo, always a gringo, like it or not). Furthermore, I really love my group of friends down here, many of whom are gringas. Hanging out with them, shooting the shit, trash talking the clothes or food or whatever else down here and bonding over often feeling like a ray of sanity in a city full of shenanigans is most definitely a survival technique. I'm quite confident when I assert that all gringas I know living down here would not be able to do so without at least one or two good gringa friends. And what's the problem with that? Nada, as I see it, so long as you are still meeting Chileans and not pretending to live in some 51st United State that was separated at birth. It feels good to feel understood, and we're all entitled to that. 

But here's where it starts getting tricky.

I like socializing with my fellow gringos in Chilean spaces, such as bars, restaurants, movie theatres, etc. When we do, we usually speak in English. I don't feel guilty or weird about doing this because all of the gringos I know, myself included, speak Spanish at least half-decently and quite often excellently, and none of us ever expect unknown Chileans we interact with in these spaces to speak English. But when it comes to other groups of gringos who want to do the same thing, suddenly things aren't so peachy. When I see and hear groups of gringos on the street or at a bar, speaking loudly about the undeniable greatness of Michael Phelps (or whatever it is gringos talk about these days), sometimes I just want to vomit. All I can think is, God, go home. You're contaminating this country with your gringoness and embarrassing me and no, we cannot be friends just because we're both gringos in Chile. 

I know, I'm a terrible person. But at least I admit it. 

I think part of the issue is that Santiago isn't exactly some great international, cosmopolitan destination (yet), such as Buenos Aires, and therefore the city isn't teaming with gringos the way some other destinations on the continent are. We longer-term gringos down here like to think we are bearing some heavy burden merely by living in Chile, penetrating unknown territory to report back on; we think our abroad experience is more hardcore than yours because people in the US know next to nothing about Chile (and most can't even locate it on a map). So when we see a group of college kids studying abroad wondering down Av. Providencia we think, Dammit, they're contaminating this place! They have to leave before people begin to find out it really isn't that bad down here! 

Or at least I do. 

My feeling towards unknown gringos has become so embedded that when I was in the States recently for a short visit and I was alone on the subway and overheard some family talking, I thought, God, what's with all the gringo spottings today?? And then I remembered where I was and laughed at myself.

If we add up the facts, it appears that I believe I'm entitled to a lifestyle that many others shouldn't be entitled to, even though my lifestyle wouldn't even be possible if other gringos didn't do the same thing. I'm trying to improve my completely illogical and obnoxious outlook, but it's really difficult and hard to combat. I'm open to suggestions if you have them.

The first step to making myself a better, non-hypocritical person has got to be admitting that I have a problem. Consider that done. I'll be working on the second step, just as soon as I figure out what the hell it is. So if you're a gringo I'm not acquainted with and you see me walking down the street tomorrow, don't expect me to be your friend or even sympathetic. I'll sooner wedge my pants up my crotch and say to the person next to me,  Ay, tantos gringos, wayon!... and then go home and tell all my gringo friends about it. 

These Are a Few of My Favorite Things... about Chile

My faithful readers--all five of you--may have noticed that the bulk of my previous posts have been a little critical of Chile. While I stand by all that was said, I don't wish to mislead anyone into thinking that I hate Chile or Chileans or that I'm having a miserable time here. For the record, I'm actually quite happy down here, because for all things that annoy the crap out of me about Chile, which are indeed numerous, there are many things that I truly love. So to avoid being perceived as a constant whiner (or as having some kind of vagina fetish) I now present to you my top five favorite things about living in Chile:

1. My apartment

Who out there can boast the luxuries of living in a new building, in a great area of town, with a swimming pool, doormen--mostly competent, too--and spectacular views, of the Andes no less, for a totally affordable price? Not too many people; certainly not my friends in New York. My one bedroom basement apartment on the outskirts of Ithaca, New York (read: middle of nowhere) cost MORE than my current place down here that is about ten thousand times nicer. The fact that I'm an English teacher and can afford accommodations this lux makes me very happy. Living in a place you like, where you feel comfortable and happy and at ease with the bills, is very important, at least to me. And Chile makes that possible. I will miss my apartment dearly when I leave, along with all the doormen who call me señorita.

2. The Geography

I dare anyone not to be inspired and awed at the natural and incredibly diverse beauty Chile has to offer. Just taking the bus ride across the boarder to Argentina is a jaw-dropping event. From Santiago you can be at some of the best skiing in the world in an hour if you head east and at some beautiful, remote beach if you head west for an hour. Of course, if neither of those suit you we have the driest desert in the world in the north and glaciers in the south, with everything you could imagine in between, including stunning lakes, lava-spewing volcanoes, steamy geysers, quaint towns, etc, etc. The only biosphere that isn't included in Chile's boundaries is tropical rain forest, and there is plenty of that in nearby Peru, Bolivia, and Brazil, so there is hardly time to miss it.

3. Mass Transportation

I know, I know, everyone bitches about TranSantiago, with the over-crowded metros and buses that don't come as often as they used to. For all those who have to take the metro Line 1 or the 401/413/421 bus at rush hour, trust me, I understand what it's like to jammed in between an old lady, a few pokemones, a guy who stares at you a little too long and intently for comfort, and some dude selling sketchy-but-cheap candy from a backpack yelling "Cien pesos!" in your ear. And it sucks. But the fact that the public transportation system is used so readily is a sure sign that they are onto something good, no? So give it a chance. It's not like the trains in NYC aren't crowed at rush hour. Anyway, the truth of the matter is that it ain't that bad. There, I said it. Public transportation is inexpensive, easy to use, takes you all over the place, and is damn clean. And mass transportation doesn't end with the city limits. You can take a (nice) bus pretty much anywhere in this country, and many places outside the country, for very cheap. Plus, with oil prices through the roof, there is no time like the present for a car-free life.

4. Living in Spanish (Part Time)

Never mind the fact that I can still only speak Spanish at an intermediate level and that Chilean Spanish is notoriously hard to understand, I love living a bilingual lifestyle. I speak English with my boyfriend and gringo friends and Spanish with the Chilean community at-large. I can watch the news on TV in Spanish and then read it online in English; I read trashy magazines in Spanish for fun and then novels in English for literary fulfillment. Living in two languages is good for the mind, body, and soul: your brain is more active because you are constantly learning, your mouth builds new muscles and your hearing is fine-tuned, and you are instantly connected to a whole new culture. Also, despite the fact that Chilean Spanish is, shall we say, "challenging" for foreigners to understand, especially if you are in the process of learning Spanish, I have to admit that I've kinda taken a liking to it. It has a lot of character, to say the least.

5. Fresh Produce

This is especially true for the summer months, but still relevant now. (Have you tried the Pink Lady Apples and clementines flooding the supers? They are out of this world.) If you are addicted to fresh fruit, as I am, then a Chilean summer is a little slice of heaven. Not only are cherries, apricots, watermelons and many other fruits fresh, tasty and widely available, they are damn cheap. Last summer I bought over two pounds of fantastic cherries for less than a dollar at the Vega. Yummm. And pretty guilt free, too, because they didn't have to be shipped for thousands of miles using tons of fossil fuels in order to get to my mouth. How's that for green living? Also falling under this category is all the wonderful, and affordable, wine that Chile produces. For every annoyance in Chile there is a glass, or bottle, of delicious wine ready to ease your pains and delight your taste buds. The wine is lovely and the pretension is low, making for a very accessible and enjoyable wine-culture. 

Honorable mention goes to Chilean asados, or barbecues, which are evidence of all that is good about the Chilean people. They are fun, relaxing, frequent (in decent weather), and are a fantastic way to meet new people. There is no better way to bond with Chileans than over some grilled meat and ice cold beers. Honorable mention must also be given to safety in Chile as a whole, and Santiago as a city in particular. A capital city in South America that is safer than most major cities in the US? It does indeed exist, in the form of Santiago. Violent crime and terrorism are much lesser threats in Chile than in the US, resulting in a lower Xanax consumption rate per capita.

Also, the ease at which I've befriended people down here, both gringos and Chileans, has greatly contributed to my happiness levels. I've found it easier to meet people in Chile than it was to meet people in college. No joke. However, I don't consider this a uniquely Chilean experience, by any means; rather, it seems more closely associated with the more general experience of living abroad during your twenties.

Thus, despite the fact that I already know Chile is not a place I'd want to live long-term, it is a place I am enjoying living for the time being and a place I will always associate with many wonderful things. If you are considering coming down here for pleasure or just to escape your home country for a little while, I definitely recommend it. Just set reasonable expectations and they will surely be fulfilled.

A Note on Tampons

Ah, tampon selection of yonder land, how I miss thee! (Gringas, I know you feel me on this.)

This may sound ignorant to those of you who know a thing or two about South America, but I truly never imagined before coming down here that I'd have to request the ultra-utilitarian, and rather boring, tampon as a care package item. This is because Chile, in most respects, is far from what I would consider to be a 2nd world country or an "industrializing nation." Things are quite industrialized down here, thank you very much, and it shows in everything from housing to water filtration to foreign trade agreements to economic stability. But as for the availability of tampons in Chile, it is, well, rather medieval. So if you are wondering what to include in your next care package to a beloved gringa you know living down here, strongly consider tampons. 

Tampons are scarce in Chile, to say the least, which is ironic considering no street corner seems to be complete without a drug store. But don't be fooled--few tampons lie within! Walk into any drug store or supermarket down here and see for yourself: there are about 50 gazillion types of pads practically spilling off the shelves and one little box of tampons...with dust on it. You really must laugh at the situation or else you may cry and then you may realize how pathetic you are for crying over tampons, and that's just depressing. I keep on waiting to stumble upon some magical tampon mecca, tucked just out of view somewhere in Providencia, but as of writing, I have yet to encounter such a place. 

Now I realize that Chile is an uber Catholic country and therefore believes very strongly that few things belong in a woman's vagina. But come on, it's 2008! Haven't you figured out that you can't loose your virginity to a little wad of cotton? Trust me, if a tampon could achieve the same ends as a penis women everywhere would be locked in their bathrooms. Using a tampon is not some naughty, pleasurable experience that women take great joy in. It's akin to plugging up any other leak, and about as pleasurable. So fret not, Catholics, I think there are a few greater threats to your religious beliefs than tampons.

To add insult to injury in this most undesirable situation, you can only buy tampons in boxes of eight, which is about as handy as buying a few sheets of toilet paper. I say that if Chileans must try to push their Catholic guilt on us gringas by forcing us to choose from their minescule and highly over-priced assortment, the least they can do is sell tampons in larger quantities for those of us who are not deterred. I mean, who the hell wants to buy a box of eight tampons?? They don't sell pads in bags of eight--no one would stand for it! There would be protests in the streets! Give us at least 24 tampons in a box, I beg of you; forget the boxes of eight altogether, no one will miss them. 

And for those of you thinking to yourselves, Why doesn't this chick just switch to using pads and shut up already? the answer is a most defiant NO. Buying pads instead is not an option; I stopped wearing diapers over 20 years ago and I'm not going back now. So get with it Chile! It's time to overcome your phobia of tampons (or your phobia of the gringa lifestyle, as it might be). Any business carrying large quantities of reasonably priced tampons will be highly rewarded by the gringa pocketbook, you have my word. Just be sure to send us a memo, or something.

Mayonnaise is not a Food Group, People

As I leafed through the pages of countless South American travel books over a year ago, attempting to determine where to spend a year abroad, never did it occur to me to consider the food culture of the countries in question. The economy/availability of jobs, the government, overall safety, quality of housing, what there is to do and see--these things were always on my mind. Notions of food would come to me in passing, when I salivated at the thought of juicy Argentine steaks or the mounds of delicious rice and beans in Costa Rica, but it was never a deciding factor in my choice of destination. That isn't because food is not important to me. Quite the contrary; I consider myself a part-time, not-overly-pretentious foodie. I love good food, regardless of cost and region of origin, and it is important in my life. But I assumed, as many gringos do, that food in Latin America is pretty much always cheap and, more importantly, always good.

Wrong.

Arriving in Chile I was hit with the stark reality of its food culture, which can pretty much be summed up in one word: sucky. Yup, that's right, the food in Chile is crap on the whole, so if you are considering moving here or taking an extended visit, prepare thyself. This isn't to say that good food doesn't exist at all in the country. I've loved every minute of the abundant, inexpensive fresh fruit in the summer and who can't find the Chilean love of manjar infectious? But fruit goes out of season and caramelized milk is a little high-calorie for an entire meal, and then you are left with the rest of Chile's barren, and often disgusting, foodscape. Indeed, if there were a national food of Chile it would surely be the completo, a hot dog smothered in mayonnaise, ketchup, and mashed-up avocado. I wouldn't touch it with a ten foot pole.

According to my calculations, there are five primary food groups in Chile. The first group is mayonnaise, that creamy, high fat condiment that Chileans manage to smear on just about everything; it enjoys some kind of food sainthood status here that is rather inexplicable. I really only enjoy mayonnaise in an extremely limited number of dishes, and even then less for the taste and more for the texture it adds or way it enhances other flavors. So this food group really grosses me out. And to add insult to injury, they sell mayonnaise in bags down here. Bags! Need I say more? Grupo numero dos would have to be churipan, without which no Chilean asado (barbecue) is complete. The word is literally the combination of two words: churiso (sausage) and pan (bread). If there is no churipan at your Chilean asado you have failed miserably at life. Cheap meet in general is a staple; vegetarianism is not a common lifestyle among locals and I applaud all gringos who take on the challenge headfirst. Your survival skills are inspirational. The third group has to go to potatoes, and more specifically french fries, which you may be surprised to learn are far more popular down here than rice. Now I love potatoes (and fries) as much as the next person, my ancestors are from Eastern Europe after all, but they eat french fries as though they were carrot sticks. And they pass on the carrot sticks altogether. Then there is manjar, the fourth group, known as dolce de leche to our Argentine

neighbors. This incredibly sweet concoction is undeniably good, but spread on a piece of toast for breakfast? And then eaten in sugary confections throughout the day and night? A little much. Finally, there is palta, known to gringos as avacado. These are delicious and healthy (to an extent) and I do enjoy eating them frequently, but beware of over-doing it as an outsider, because once you burn out on palta your options are limited. All other food falls under the secondary category of "Other." This includes dairy, in all of its overly-processed, overly-pasteurized glory, as well as fruits and vegetables which manage to make cameo appearances in a few local dishes.

To point out to a Chilean that their food is crap is akin to pointing out that the Andes are high. Most Chileans agree that the best restaurants in the country are Peruvian. Further, if you, by chance, can make delicious food you are instantly raised to the status of demigod. But Chileans are used to bad food and those pathetic excuses for grocery stores, and therefore do not understand the withdrawal that gringos endure. They do not pine for organic peanut butter in which the only ingredients are peanuts and salt. They do not have the lingering flavors of real cheese, yogurt, and milk in their mouths. They do not long for even just one bite of a Vietnamese noodle bowl. They do not know our pain.

And I must say that Chile really has no excuse. Because every other Latin American country has their food culture in order. Everyone else has inexpensive but drool-worthy dishes, including Argentina, which shares a very lengthy boarder with Chile. Taking the eight hour bus ride through the Andes to Mendoza, Argentina, is like entering an alternate food dimension. One wonders how on earth the two countries can share so much geography in common and yet so little food culture. Is it really not possible to ship the cheese they have in Argentina just a couple hundred miles further into Santiago? Apparently not, so don't bother asking. Furthermore, Chilean wine is so delectable, inexpensive, and readily available that it makes the offense of bad food that much worse. There is so much good wine to be had and so little delicious food to enjoy it with!

Thus, I patiently wait for the good-food trend that the rest of the world enjoys to catch on down here. Knowing this isn't likely to happen anytime soon, I spend a lot of time cooking at home, feeding my friends (Chileans, gringos, and other internationals), and trying to spread some good food karma. Because really, the best accompaniment to good food is good friends, and luckily I have lots of those.

Cameltoe Spottings (and not the literal kind)

To all Chileans of the world, I declare the following: Cameltoe is not a fashion statement. At least it shouldn't be. For those of you unfamiliar with the term "cameltoe" outside of the literal usage of the word, it refers to the unfortunate phenomenon known as the female frontal wedgie. In the United States, the term is more often used in jest than anything else. It occasionally afflicts women in spandex, but otherwise spottings are pretty rare. However, in Chile, cameltoe is very much an everyday reality. In my four months here I have seen more cameltoe than in my entire life. In fact, I saw more cameltoe just yesterday alone than I had ever seen before moving to Chile.

Now, you may be thinking, OK, that's funny and a little gross, but who really cares? To this I say that the prevalence of cameltoe in this country is merely a symptom of a much greater problem, which is that Chile doesn't sell women's pants that actually fit a woman's body correctly. And this truly is unfortunate. I used to think that women just didn't know how to buy the correct size pants, but then I found myself in a dressing room in Falabella (a popular department store down here) going, "What the fuck!!! These pants don't fit!" Then I thought, well, you can't buy pants that fit correctly down here, so maybe all these millions of Chilean women don't know what

correctly fitting pants even look like. Maybe they don't know that your pants aren't supposed to be completely wedged up your crotch. Because hell, they grew up with it and are not offered an alternative. But no, much to my relief, many Chilean women do realize their pants don't fit. I came to this conclusion after having a conversation with a Chilean woman who told me that she could always spot "gringa pants" on the street because they actually fit correctly around your ass and don't wedge up in the front. She said she wears long tunic-type shirts over her pants to cover the problem, since she can't buy flattering pants. And, for those of you wondering, there is actually a Chilean word for cameltoe, which is marraqueta, literally a type of bread that very much resembles in shape the unsightly problem at hand (see photo).

So here is my desperate plea to corporate America: Bring pants that fit down to Chile! People will buy them, as the money exists here. Is it really too much to ask for one measly Gap or even Old Navy? ANYTHING would be better. And we already have every fast food chain imaginable down here (including Duncan Doughnuts and TGI Fridays), so what the hell is taking the clothing stores so damn long? The gringas alone would make these businesses money if they set up shop down here, and everyone would be so much happier. Because, as my illustrious boyfriend once said, "A little bit of cleavage, sexy. A little bit of cameltoe, not so much." I'm probably paraphrasing a bit there, but you get the point. The point, my friends, is that we need some well-fitting pants in Chile, so all you enterprising entrepreneurs, take note. In the meantime, don't be surprised to find some mail order pants on your doorsteps ordered by a pobre gringa in need. (And do send them down to me if that situation ever occurs. Thanks.)

G is for Gringa

About four months ago I finally caved into peer pressure and started a Facebook account. (Really up on the trends, I know.) Now, after multiple requests from family members and friends, I have begun a blog that will chronicle my experience of and reflections on living as an expatriate in Chile. This blogging thing is a totally new experience for me and I sincerely hope I don't fuck it up too badly. (Though honestly, have you read some of the blogs floating around the internet lately? The pressure isn't exactly high, to say the least.) My intention is to create a record of some of my thoughts while south of the equator that I hope will be informative and interesting, or at the very least amusing. I may come up with the occasional profound thought--stress on occasional, but that really is not my intention for this space. (Catch me some other time when I am riled up on the topic of incarceration or gender inequality for the profound thoughts.) Rather, I hope to simply take a stab at demystifying the gringa by stating clearly what is on her mind. Honestly, we aren't the intriguing, alien creatures many Chilean men would make us out to be. (In fact, now that I'm on the subject, let me take this time to correct a common myth. Myth: When gringas get together they have pillow fights in their bras and undies while jumping up and down on a bed. Fact: When gringas get together we talk about the lack of good food in this country and the inexplicable trend known as the Chilean mullet, which, by the way, is definitely a misstep if you are trying to bed a gringa. OK I'm done.) But beyond demystifying the gringa for the sake of Chileans--and any other international who needs some clarification--the blog will demystify my doings for those of you back in the US to enable a better understanding of what I'm up to down here and what, exactly, happens in Chile besides earthquakes and volcano eruptions. And I promise that other stuff does happen, as hard to believe as it may be. So read frequently, comment when you feel so moved, and be educated on the gringa mind in Chile. After all, I'm doing this for you!