Gringo or not?

Chileans like to lump people into Ethnic groups. If you're Asian, you're Chino (Chinese). If you're Middle Eastern you're Turco or Arabe (Turkish or Arabic). If you're Canadian, from the U.S., British, Irish, Scottish, Australian or Kiwi, you're Gringo. In fact, a lot of Chileans lump Germans, French and other light haired, light eyed Western Europeans in with the Gringos, despite the fact they're native tongue is not English.

In Chile, I've never thought twice about being called Gringa. I realize that in other Latin American countries, like Mexico, it can be offensive. During my time in El Salvador I don't remember the topic coming up, but I do remember no one called me gringa or gringuita (little gringa) but rather chele or chelita which basically translates to "whitey" and "little whitey." (Funny, in Chile chela or chelita means beer!) But the point is, in Chile being called gringo or gringa is simply a descripitive term 99% of the time.

However, I never thought about how English speakers from across the pond thought about being called gringo. Apparently, some of them don't like it very much!

Yesterday I went to N.'s* soccer game. He plays in an International League and there are teams made up of ex-pats and immigrants from various countries around the world. I think that most of the teams are Chilean, but there was a Japanese team playing when we arrived, and N.'s team was going to play against the team he called, "Los Gringos." He wasn't sure where they were from, but he guessed they weren't from the U.S. He was right. They were sponsored by Flannery's Irish Pub and from what I could tell, there were some British, some Irish, maybe Australian players. There were at least two Chileans as well.

This game was important, because whoever lost was in danger of dropping down into the second division of the league, which would be very damaging to all of the players' egos. N's team was pretty confident they were going to win because they had beat this same team 6-0 a few weeks ago. However, after N's team made the first goal right off, The Gringos came back strong and at half time the score was Gringos 3, Chileans 2.

Things got sloppy in the second half. The refs were calling lots of fouls and giving out yellow cards left and right. At one point the Gringos were up 4-2 after putting in a penalty kick. Everyone was pretty tense, and some choice words were exchanged between the Chileans and Gringos. The Gringos threw around the F bomb as if it were nothing, and one Chilean player called one of them "gringo culiado"(effing gringo). The gringo in question got mad. Really mad. So he goes, "I'm not even a gringo!" and proceeds to pull down his pants and moon N's team's bench. Lovely.

The ref didn't see, but N. (who was on the bench at this point) went over to complain to the lady who was keeping the time. She had seen everything, so she called over the line judge (is that what they're called in soccer?) who called over the ref, who kicked out the immature little twit who had mooned us. The idiot kept insisting that he was just arranging his tee-shirt, but he was full of it.

I'm not sure if this was just because the atmosphere was so heated during this game, or if people who aren't North American, or aren't from the US even, don't like to be called "gringo". And if they indeed don't like it, I don't really understand why. Is it because they don't like being grouped into a stereotype? Does it have something to do with not wanting to be associated with people from the U.S.? I mean, showing your ugly white butt a bunch of Chilean players (and an innocent gringa bystander) is a pretty strong (if not strange and immature) reaction, even given the tense situation.

Anyway, N.'s team came back to win 6-5. It was an exciting game. Strangely, despite the fact that it was a Chilean team playing against a team called "Los Gringos" (a group I'm a part of, according to Chileans) not once did I feel any sympathy towards them. The guys on the bench were doing some serious trash talking and not once did I feel bad for "Los Gringos" or feel as if I were betraying my "kind" in any shape or form. I wonder if I would have had the same feeling if it were a team of players from the U.S.? Is it because the group "Gringos" is artificial for me, as in a group that was invented by Chileans but that I don't identify with? Maybe in my mind, although I call myself a gringa, I separate U.S. Gringos from Australian Gringos from British Gringos.

I could go on and on about all the societal groups I identify with, but that's another post.



*N. will now be "the guy I am dating."

Mi primer post en castellano

Me di cuenta hoy que nunca he escrito un post en castellano. Sé que tengo lectores que leen esto en traducción, así que pensé escribir un post en español. Aunque vivo en Chile, paso mucho tiempo hablando inglés por mi trabajo, y a veces temo que mi capacidad de hablar, escribir y leer castellano disminuya por esto. En la U, tuve que escribir ensayos en castellano practicamente cada semana, y leer muchas novelas. Entonces aunque hablaba menos cuando vivía en EEUU, escribía y leía más. Hace como año y medio que no escribo nada en castellano que sea más largo que un correo electrónico o una conversación en MSN, que quizás ni siquiera debería contar.

Ahora estoy tratando de cambiar esto. He empezado a leer una novela de una escritora chilena. El libro se llama Dile que no estoy de Alejandra Costamagna. Un estudiante mío, que era profesor de literatura de Alejandra, me lo prestó. Aún no lo termino, pero hasta ahora me encanta. Es uno de los libros que no quiero que termine porque me gusta tanto.

Lo que me soprende es que aunque no he leído nada más que el diario en castellano por el último año y medio, entiendo casi todo. No he buscado ninguna palabra en el diccionario. No sé si es quizás porque la escritora es chilena, así que usa palabras conocidas para mi. O quizás soy más capa de lo que había pensado...jaja.

Bueno, de todas maneras estoy tratando de aprovechar más las oportunidades que tengo acá en Chile de hablar, leer, escribir y escuchar castellano. Porque aunque no lo crean, es muy posible vivir en Santiago y no hablar ni entender una palabra de castellano. No tengo este estilo de vida para nada, pero creo que sí, hablo demasiado inglés para alguien que vive en un país hispanoparlante.

No puedo prometer que estos posts serán una parte tan regular del blog. Lo que pasa es que escribo este blog para mi familia en EEUU, y creo que a mi Tía Bonnie, mis papas y mis abuelos no les gustaría que escribiera en castellano todo el tiempo. Pero voy a tratar de tener quizás un post por mes en castellano, eso sí.

PD. Si quieren corrigir mi castellano con buena onda, no tengo problemas. Sé que no escribo perfectamente, pero creo que por lo menos me entienden. :)

Thank You

My second ever video blog post! I'm awkward, but I'm also awesome, so they cancel each other out. I'm bummed to be missing out on the turkey and family time today, but I'm also so thankful for my life here in Chile. I'm thankful for my wonderful gringa friends who are the only people who truly understand what it's like to be here, because they're here too. Thank you RR, ES, EM, Sara, Isabel and Emily for listening, sharing, and mostly for understanding! I'm also thankful for my Chilean friends and family, for accepting my crazy gringa ways, for taking care of me, for helping me when I need it the most, like hanging up my curtains, helping me move, bringing me to the doctor, picking me up from work when I don't feel like taking the metro, making me soup when I'm sick and worrying if I got home safe.

I'm also so thankful for my wonderful family back home, who supports more than I could ever imagine possible. Thanks for singing to me this morning. It wouldn't be Thanksgiving without that song!

And to my friends scattered throughout the globe, ER, EL, DN, SB, RD, and KG: thanks for putting up with all my rants and for making me laugh even though we're thousands of miles away. Someday we'll all be reunited, I just know it.

So, now that that corniness is over with, I present you with more corniness combined with awkwardness:




Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!!!

Scatterbrained nitwits, apply within

Let's just get this over with: I'm no Susy Homemaker. I will never live up to my mother's or grandmothers' abilities in the kitchen or when it comes to scrubbing toilets or mopping floors. That being said, I do like a clean house and once in a while I get what I call the "cleaning bug" and madly clean everything. Last night the cleaning bug bit, and I started a mad frenzy of sweeping, mopping, dish-washing and toilet scrubbing.

I had just finished cleaning the bathtub and moved on to the mirror. I took out the Windex (well, not really Windex, but Limpiavidrios Multiusos) and then went to get some paper towels from the kitchen. I came back, and sprayed on the Windex and started wiping it down. The mirror was really gross so I sprayed on more Windex. Instead of getting cleaner, the mirror was getting dirtier. White streaks were forming everywhere. Annoyed, I sprayed on more Windex, only to see more white streaks appear. What the heck??? I thought. Then I noticed my nose was stinging. Then I tried to breath in and couldn't. I looked down to what I had in my hand and realized it was the cleaner I had been using for the bathtub.

I dropped the cleaner and ran like a madwoman out to my terraza to try to breath in fresh air. I had obviously created some kind of chemical reaction with the Windex plus bathtub cleaner (ammonia plus chlorine, perhaps?) My nose was still stinging, and then started to run. I plugged my nose, went and grabbed my computer, and called my dad to ask him when it would be okay to go back in the bathroom. I didn't want to faint from the fumes. He assured me that all the chemicals had probably dissappated by then, so I should be fine to go in and continue using the Windex to clean the mirror.

So while this little incident certainally doesn't showcase me at my finest moment, it's not that horrible. I mean, anyone could accidently cause a chemical reaction while cleaning. Right? RIGHT? Well, not that horrible, that is, until I tell you what happened a few hours before. I should preface this story by saying that I have a very bad short term memory and I get distracted ver....hey look something shiny!

What was I saying? Oh yeah. I get distracted easily. Sometimes I go into the bathroom to go pee, and I see some nail polish, so I go out and paint my toenails and then wonder why a half an hour later I still have to go pee. It's a problem. But anyway, I got home from work yesterday and went to take some ibuprophen. On the table next to the pills was a bag of peanuts. I thought, "Hmm, I'd like to eat some peanuts," so I took out a handful of peanuts, then with my empty hand, poked out an ibuprophen from the packet. I ate the peanuts and realized that I needed some water to take the pill. However, for some reason I went into the bedroom first and forgot about the water. I then felt something in my hand. Oh! I forgot to eat a peanut, I thought, and tossed it into my mouth and bit down. NOT A PEANUT NOT A PEANUT!!! It was the ibuprophen pill. DISGUSTING.

The moral of the story? Well, I guess there is no moral, besides despite being a somewhat intelligent, well-educated human being, when it comes to common sense and daily tasks, I act like a scatterbrained nimwit. At least I can laugh at myself though!

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas

I know, I know. It's all what you're used to. But I would just like to say:

I CAN NOT STAND CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS WHEN IT'S 80 DEGREES OUT!

Ahhhhh. I feel so much better having gotten that off of my chest.

I realize that for Chileans, Christmas has always been hot. But for me, it's always been cold and snowy. There are many things I can and have adjusted to here in Chile, but this is a new one for me. This has been my first August, September, October, November and (will be) December in Chile, so this is my first time experiencing the Christmas decorations (which I first saw on October 31st), the Christmas music and the sweating Santas.

I'm just so grateful that I'm able to go home and spend a white, snowy, cold Christmas with my family.

Want to know what it's like to be an English teacher? See below.

Last night at 5:00pm, just when I was about to step into the classroom, my phone rang. Due to the random string of numbers I knew it was the Institute. I debated not answering. After all, I had a legitimate excuse, my class started at 5:00 and so therefore I could be in class, even though I had technically not walked through the door yet. But then I thought that perhaps they were calling to offer me a class. One of my business classes ended on Monday, and the students told me they were going to request me again, so I thought perhaps they were calling for that.

Nope.

"Abby, can you sub tomorrow from 8:30 to 11:00?" the secretary asked.

I don't know why I said yes, but pretty soon I found myself in a two hour battle with various secretaries from the institute trying to get them to send me materials. The work e-mail system is shaky at best, and the server is always down. so I called the secretary to have them send it to my personal address. This simple task resulted in the following conversation:

Me: "Mi correo es ah-kah-achay-ah-elay-elay dos arroba gmail.com" (My email is a-k-h-a-l-l-2 at gmail.com)

Secretary: "Que? No le entiendo. Mas lento. Ah-" (What I don't understand. Slow down. A-)

Me: "Si, ah, kah...."

Secretary: "Ah-ah-kah..."

Me: "No! Hay solamente una ah. Ah-kah-achay-ah..."

Secretary: "Que? No le entiendo. No entiendo nada." (What? I don't understand you. I don't understand anything.)

Me: (Getting peeved) "Ah, kah, achay-ah-elay-elay-dos arroba gmail.com"

Secretary: "Que? No le entiendo. Dame un segundo." (What? I don't understand. Wait a moment.)

Secretary 2: "Hello, please, Abby, your e-mail give it to me."

And with the second secretary the above scene was repeated but even worse, because I could tell she wasn't paying attention to me. She kept repeating my email like this: klla2 @ gmail.com which is not even close. I swear one time she thought the problem was that it was hotmail, not gmail. It was really hard for me to maintain my patience, but finally the neurons clicked and she repeated it back to me correctly. Then there was a problem with the famous e-mail server and they couldn't send me the e-mail for one hour, and then complained that I wouldn't be able to print it out, etc. It made my Friday evening very stressful and I was not looking forward to subbing for this class AT ALL. It was going to be a 30 minute ride on the metro and it was a kid's class. The class list showed 17 8-11 year old boys. JOY.

But I tried not to think too much about it and went out with my friends and got to sleep at (kind of) a decent hour and it didn't even seem so horrible to wake up at 6:45am. The metro ride down was pretty because it was early in the morning and the daily smog hadn't settled in yet. I found the place despite being confused about Poniente vs. Oriente (will someone please teach my brain to distinguish those two words!?!?) and waited in my classroom for the rugrats to come in.

Halfway through the class, while we were shaking our sillies out and wiggling our waggles away, I realized something. I was REALLY enjoying this class. The boys were all relatively well behaved and they were all nice to each other. I could tell they have a really good teacher because they knew a lot of vocabulary for their low level.

Then, right before the break we had a little Q & A session, first in English, then in Spanish so they could ask me harder questions. One boy shyly raised his hand and asked (in Spanish) "Have you ever been on TV?" I replied that no, although I had been in the newspaper. Then another one said, "Are you sure because you look exactly like this girl on this program." "Yeah!" replied another, "Bailey from Zak and Cody." "YEAH!" They all replied. Then they noticed my bag. It's a disgustingly dirty LLBean tote bag with my name on it. "LOOOOOOOK!" one yelled, "The Miss has her name on her bag! She MUST be a movie star! Miss you're lying. You've been on TV."

So despite several attempts to prove them wrong, twelve 8-11 year olds believe that Debby Ryan taught them English today. At least they'll have something to brag about to the other boys at school.

I look exactly like her, don't I?? (HA!)

So anyway, I guess the point of this post is two-fold. First of all, this situation reminded me why I teach English despite the fact that the administration at the institute is so disorganized and continually frustrates me to no end: the students. Also, it made me realize that sometimes when you think things are just plain going to SUCK, it turns out to be okay, maybe even fun. I need to try to remember that before spending so much energy getting frustrated.

A random list of things I want to eat when I get home

Mom, take note. (Haha...just kidding...well, kind of...)

• Baked ham and sweet potatoes
• Waffles
• Stuffing (with or without turkey/chicken)
• Cranberry sauce, cranberry juice, cranberry muffins, dried cranberries, cranberry ANYTHING
• Pot roast
• Bagels (Cinnamon Raisin)
• Chinese Food
• Milk (I guess you technically drink that)
• Salad (various vegetables mixed together on a base of lettuce) with Balsamic Vinagrette
• Cabot Cheddar Cheese
• Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream

I think I may come back to Chile a few kilos heavier than I left...

Andar a lo Gringo

This weekend I got to meet the "suegs," which is short for suegros, which means in-laws. Here in Chile it doesn't matter if you're married or pololeando (boyfriend/girlfriend) or (apparently, as in my case) just dating. The parents of your significant other are your suegros. I'm not sure if this is how it works in the US or not, but let me tell you, it's a lot easier saying suegros than "my boyfriend's parents."

Anyway, if you talked to me any time on Friday or Saturday you would know that I was pretty nervous about this encounter. Chilean mothers can be somewhat possesive of their sons, and I was worried that his mother would resent me for that.

But anyway, the encounter went well, I think. On Sunday as we were eating lunch the topic of Peloton came up. I don't have a television so I thought "crap, I can't participate at all in this conversation," but luckily, thanks to Kyle's post, I knew there was a gringo on the Peloton. So I mentioned that. Then everyone said, "Yeah! You're right! And he got naked in the shower!" And then the father said, "He was andando a lo gringo!" You see, here in Chile, the term for "commando" (i.e. wearing pants or a dress with no underwear) is andar a lo gringo, which would roughly translate to "going gringo-style". The father laughed at his joke then checked to make sure I was laughing too, which of course I was. "Ahh, so you understand that one!" He exclaimed and I assured him that I did. Then he wondered if we called it the same thing in the U.S., which we don't (although I could not for the life of me remember the term commando) and then speculated as to where the term came from. He asked, "Do you andar a lo gringo a lot in the U.S.?" I laughed and said I didn't think so. We of course then speculated about the origin of the term.*

Then the father asked:

"Do people in the US know that we use this term in Chile?"

To which I replied, "No, probably not."

So now, dear readers in the U.S., you know that andar a lo gringo means to skip on the panties/boxers/briefs when you're getting dressed in the morning.

And yes, I talked about this with my suegros. I'm awesome.

*According to this site (which is written in Chilean, so some of you'll have to take my word for it), the term andar a lo gringo came about when a poor man from the countryside, who had never seen a person from the city before, came across a gringo who was wearing cotton underwear. The poor huaso only used wool underwear, and he was so facinated that he and his friend stole the gringo's underwear and for the rest of the time, the gringo had to go without.

Back and forth

It's almost comical the number of times I'll have to walk between Tobalaba/El Golf today. I start out at Tobalaba, at the Institute, then walk to El Golf to a business class, then walk back to Bosque Norte for a private class, then back to El Golf for a business class, then back to the Institute for two classes. The distance isn't that far, but it takes a solid 20 minutes.

I'm wearing my comfy shoes today.

Real post coming soon, I promise. Writer's block is almost over.

Sometimes the words just don't flow

I have terrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrible writers block. And yes, all those extra "r's" were necessary. I've literally started four different posts in two days and nothing comes out right. Bummer.

So, to combat this lack of inspiration, I present you with:

Things I'm looking forward to

1. Going out with my friends tonight.
2. Gringo Thanksgiving Celebration in Chile
   
3. A visit from my dear friend from college, E., who is currently on a boat right now somewhere off the coast of South America collecting plankton. Awesome job, right?
4. Going with E. up to La Serena to visit D.
5. HOME FOR CHRISTMAS!!! Only about five more weeks. I could write a whole post about what I'm looking forward to at home.
   
6. Going to Torres del Paine in February with gringa friends.
   

A comedy of errors

Do you ever have days where things just go kind of wrong? I mean, nothing horrible happened, but everything was just a bit off. First of all, I fell asleep last night before drying/combing my hair. Bad choice. When I woke up, I was so chascona (my hair was a mess) that Neruda should have named his house after me, not Matilde (har har har I crack myself up). I managed to tame it somewhat, but because the extra hair-doing time was not in my morning time budget, I left the house 5 minutes late. Since I'm chronically early, I figured it wouldn't matter. But then I remembered that one of the elevators in my building is getting repaired, so it took forever for the one elevator to arrive. Five minutes turned into ten minutes late. Luckily I only arrived three minutes late to class, and my students weren't ready yet, so it wasn't a problem.

After class as I was waiting in an endless line at the bank to cash a check, my next two classes canceled. Oh well, that happens almost every Monday, and I'll still get paid for one of them.

Then, oh man. I decided to go to the Unimarc near Tobalaba. I walked into the store and the alarm went off. The security guard took me aside and asked me if I had anything in my bag with a tag on it. I quickly thought about the contents of my bag and about my clothes to see if I was wearing anything new. Nope. He let me go. I went over to a display case of ravioli where a worker was restocking. I found the one I want and tried to carefully pull it off the shelf. The entire display came crashing down. I essentially undid all this poor man's work. I apologized profusely and started to help him but soon could tell that I was just making things worse so saying "perdona, perdona!" I left. Then, I bumped into the lady mopping the floor. Then, a friendly man restocking yogurt said, "Cómo está usted?" and I replied "Hola" like an idiot because at that point I couldn't even think. Then I went to get bread and forgot to get it weighed so when I got to the checkout they had to send someone to weigh it for me (I offered to go but they said no se preocupe señorita). Then, of course, as I left the store the alarm went off again and they had to check to make sure I wasn't smuggling out any mayonaisse. When I was entering the metro I realized I had forgotten to tip the girl who bagged my groceries, but I figured that if I went back, 1. the alarm would go off again and 2. I might get hit by a car crossing the street the way my luck was going.

Uuuf! I made it home in one piece, although I almost forgot to get off the metro at Manuel Montt and had to scramble and "permiso" my way from the back of the train off.

I have to admit, I'm kind of afraid to leave my house later this afternoon. But hopefully all my morning bad luck will have worn off by then.

Who am I?

I realize it's impossible to really know who a person is through what they write on a personal blog. However, I seem to have some new readers recently and I just thought I should introduce myself.

Here are some questions people usually ask me when we first meet in person.

Why are you in Chile?

Simple. I like it. I even like Santiago. There are many reasons why. If you're really interested, leave a comment and I'll respond individually. (Also I'm not knocked-up and my ankles are normal sized, last time I checked, in case anyone was wondering).

Do you have a pololo?

Not exactly. I'm dating someone.

How do you survive down in Santiago?

I work. I'm an English teacher. I teach for an Institute because it was easier to get a visa that way. I also do private classes and occasional translating on the side. I make enough money to live a comfortable life in Providencia. No, my daddy doesn't send me money. But my mom recently sent me a brownie mix. Thanks, Mom!

Do you speak Spanish?

Sí. I also understand Chilean.

How long do you plan on staying in Chile?

I'm not sure. At least until May 2010. I'm not sure I'd go as far to say that I would live here forever, but I could see myself here for a long time, depending on many factors.

Are you happy living in Chile?

Yes, I love my life here. Of course I miss my family and friends in the U.S., but that's a dilemma that every ex-pat deals with.

Where are you from?

Vermont. (A small state near New York and Canada).

What did you study in the US?

Latin American Studies and International Relations. I wrote my thesis on La Revolución Pinguina and the Chilean Education system. I went to Colby College in Waterville, ME.

Are you going to work in that area in the future?

Maybe, but my current interests lie more in the Education field.

So out of the loop

I'm anticipating major reverse culture shock when I go back to the States in December. I keep trying to look at pictures of home and remind myself what it's like, but nonetheless, I have a feeling it's going to hit me like a ton of bricks. When I came home after studying abroad, the biggest challenge for me was the language. No, I hadn't forgotten to speak English, but some every day phrases just came out in Spanish. I was at the pharmacy one day and I bumped into a woman and said "Disculpa", then proceeded to say "Gracias" to the pharmacist after she gave me my medicine. Embarrassing. I also remember how easy everything was in the US. Here in Chile I plan out most conversations with people like the pharmacist. I do quick once over in my mind just so I can try to speak as correctly as possible. In the US, I found myself doing the same thing, then realizing that if I said, "Necesito revelar estas fotos" to the woman at the photo shop in Montpelier, Vermont, she would look at me as if I had two heads.

I also am so out of the loop in terms of pop culture. I had no idea about the whole Balloon Boy fiasco until two weeks after it happened (I assumed that the Balloon Boy trending topic on Twitter was for a new band). I have no idea what music is popular on the radio, or what movies are in the theater. I saw status updates on Facebook about elections a few days ago and I had no idea what they were for. I feel so out of it.

So in an attempt to catch up, I decided to watch Paranormal Activity today. This was a Trending Topic on Twitter (say that three times fast) for awhile leading up to Halloween. I asked my Dad about it and he said it was some sort of documentary about ghosts. So I decided to watch it today. When I started watching it, I assumed it was real. Then I started getting really freaked out so I stopped watching and googled it. I feel like such a ninny. It's just a really low-budget Blair Witch-type movie. But, let me tell you, it had me convinced.

Moving right along

Thank you all for commenting on my previous post. It has made me think a lot and that's what I love about blogging. I realize that not everyone is going to understand my sentiments exactly. People are going to judge me for being superficial or just another "rich white gringa." Frankly, I'm over it. I know who I am and I'm comfortable enough with myself to know that I don't fit categories or stereotypes. I know that poverty is a serious problem, and I apologize if it seems that I was making light of it. If you read Part I, you would know that I fully recognize my privileged status, not only in Chile, but in the world. In the end, it's my blog and I can write what I want, and since I open it up to comments, you can aslo share your opinion. Yay free speech!!

Speaking of speech, yesterday I was walking to the metro and was reminded of a website that existed when I went to Colby. It was called "Overheard at Colby," inspired by Overheard in New York. It was a hilarious collection of things people overheard other people saying. Unfortunately, it's not running anymore, or else I'd post a link.

Back to yesterday. I was at Campus San Joaquin of La Catolica, walking to the metro after class. A girl behind me was talking on her cell phone. This is the half-conversation that I thought I heard:

"Hi love....good and you?....hey, I've been thinking, and I've decided that I want to take a shower because it's just not fair...Yes I know! But I just want your support...I told you! I just want your support! It's going to be hard, but I know I can do it if you support me....Noooo! That's not what I'm asking....I just want your support.....Okay I'll call you back. Bye."

And I start to think...why does this girl need so much support to take a shower!?! This would be perfect for "Oveheard in Santiago" (if such a thing existed).

Then I realized...I was confusing the word duchar (to take a shower) with luchar (to fight/struggle). I felt pretty silly.

It's all relative: Part II

(See Part I)

When I first studied here in Santiago, it was after three months of living in El Salvador. I witnessed poverty in El Salvador first hand. I volunteered for an NGO and we traveled to dirt poor communities to teach organic farming practices. I also experienced urban poverty in San Salvador, because the city is more heterogenous: the poor live right next to the middle class (the rich live in gated communities on the outskirts of the city). However, when I arrived to Santiago, I thought: this looks like a nice part of a city in the US. Where is all the poverty and inequality that I've heard so much about? Is this really Latin America?

That is why I became obsessed with going to a población. I didn't feel as if my experience would be complete without seeing how, in my mind, the real people lived. I wasn't content to stay in my little gringa-exchange student bubble in Santiago Centro/Ñuñoa/Providencia/Las Condes.

I understand the word población (in the Chilean context, in general it just means population) to mean a very poor neighborhood, usually located on the perifery of the city. That is the most general definition. Depending on the context (my students hate it when I say that!), it can also mean a very poor neighborhood that is very dangerous to enter if you don't live there, because some of it's habitants are drug traffickers and belong to gangs. They protect the people who live there, but will probably assault any outsiders. Some examples of these "dangerous" poblaciones include: La Legua Emergencia (San Joaquin), La Victoria (PAC) and La Pincoya (Huechuraba), among many. Poblaciones are also known as being bastions of resistance against the dictatorship, especially right after the 1973 coup d'etat.

So I told my Chilean friends I wanted to see a población, and was suprised by their reaction. They told me they wouldn't bring me. So I said I'd find another way to go. It's not like I had any idea where to look, but in my naiive mind, I could just walk right in, see what it was like, talk to the people, maybe do some volunteer work. Then my friends got very serious and made me promise I'd never go to a población. You won't come out alive, they told me.

They successfully scared me and so I had to be content with not going to a población, but told myself that my bi-weekly volunteer sessions at a high school in the lower-middle class suburb of Maipu was enough to quench my thirst for real people.

Do I still want to visit a población? The guy I'm dating (I really need to think of a better nickname for him...suggestions?) showed me some videos on YouTube about crime in the poblaciones. I think he was hoping that would fulfill my desire to go there without actually having to set foot there. It didn't exactly work. Yes, I saw the guns, I heard the bullets and realized that it's a very dangerous place. So I don't think I want to go to the poblaciones exactly. I realize that perhaps this isn't the best way to get to know how real people live. What I do want to do is get to know other parts of Santiago. I feel like I know Providencia like the back of my hand. I can get almost anywhere in Las Condes without getting lost. I know the main part of El Centro. Me ubico in Ñuñoa north of Avenida Grecia. Outside of these places? Nada.

I was talking to a student the other day about Chilean sterotypes and we started talking about social class. I said that Chile seems so first world to me, yet I always hear people complaining about how Chile is so underdeveloped and it makes me want to say, "Have you ever been to Ethiopia?" (But then I realize that I have never been to Ethiopia...) Then my student said, "If you only stay in Santiago Centro, Providencia and Las Condes you could think that Chile was part of the first world. But if you go other places, you realize it isn't."

SO TRUE. I want to go those other places. I want to conocer. On Saturday a friend's boyfriend took her and I to Peñalolén. I was super excited because I'd never been there before. I couldn't believe that I'd lived in this city for 11 months and never been to Peñalolén! I fully admit that I'm a ñoña (nerd). I have a thirst for knowledge. So now I just need to quench it.

So I'm open for suggestions. What parts of the city should I conocer? I don't want to just set out on my own, because I might end up in a dangerous place. But if you have suggestions of places you've been that are outside of my comfort zone, let me know. And if you want to come with me on my conocer-ing mission, all the better.

It's all relative: Part I

I've been thinking a lot about class and social status lately. It's hard not to when you live in Chile and everything is so separated. The rich people live here, the middle class lives here and the poor people live here. End of story.

Of course I'm generalizing a bit: there are poor and rich people in every comuna if you look at this graph (ABC1=rich, E=poor).

Table 3.2. Percentages of GSE by comuna of Santiago, ordered by ABC1

Comunas of Greater Santiago	ABC1	C2	C3	D	E
Vitacura	58.6	28.5	9.8	2.8	0.3
Las Condes	48.6	30.7	12.9	6.8	0.9
Lo Barnechea	43.2	14.3	14	22.2	6.3
La Reina	40.6	26.5	16.5	13.7	2.7
Providencia	35.9	38.3	18.2	7	0.6
Ñuñoa	28.7	35.1	20	14.5	1.8
San Miguel	16.1	26.2	26.1	26.4	5.2
Macul	11.9	26	25.8	29.9	6.5
La Florida	11.7	25	26.5	30.5	6.2
Peñalolen	11.1	14	21.3	41.1	12.5
Huechuraba	9.8	11	20.9	44.6	13.7
Santiago	9.7	31.7	29.3	24.4	4.9
La Cisterna	8.7	23.8	29.1	31.5	6.8
Maipú	7.5	27.2	32.7	28.6	4
Independencia	6.2	22.4	30.3	34.6	6.4
Estación Central	5.7	19.2	28.1	38	9
Quilicura	4.5	19.9	31.9	36.6	7
Cerrillos	4.3	16.8	26.7	41.6	10.6
Puente Alto	4.3	19.8	31.8	36.9	7.2
San Bernardo	4.2	14.8	25.5	42.4	13.2
San Joaquín	3.4	15.5	28	42.7	10.4
Quinta Normal	3.3	16.1	28.6	41.6	10.3
Recoleta	3	15.5	26.8	43.2	11.5
Pudahuel	2.8	14.5	28.4	43	11.3
El Bosque	2.6	12.6	26.3	46.2	12.2
Conchalí	2.6	14.7	27.8	44.2	10.6
P.A. Cerda	2.6	13.4	26.9	46.1	11
Lo Prado	2.4	13.3	27.7	45.7	10.9
La Granja	1.6	10.9	27.3	46.8	13.3
San Ramón	1.1	8.1	23.7	51.2	15.9
Renca	1.1	9.1	24.5	49.9	15.3
Lo Espejo	0.6	7.5	23.4	52.7	15.8
Cerro Navia	0.6	6.4	23.2	52.3	17.5
La Pintana	0.5	5	20.8	54	19.8

Adimark, “Mapa Socioeconómico de Chile: nivel socioeconómico de los hogares del país basados en datos del Censo,” 2002, www.adimark.cl/medios/estudios/Mapa_Socioeconomico_de_Chile.pdf (20 Febuary 2008), 19-21.

However, no one will argue when I say that Santiago is extremely segregated by social class.

This makes me a bit uncomfortable. I live in the "rich" part of the city, in Providencia. No, it's not the "richest" part, but it's considered a barrio alto where upper-middle and upper-class people live. Why does this make me uncomfortable, you might ask, if you live in a nice part of the city? People automatically assume things about me when they know I'm gringa and I live in Providencia. They assume that I'm rich.

The term "rich" could be analyzed in many ways. If you're talking strictly about money, as in, the amount of disposable income that I make, minus my debt and expenses, I'm not rich. Not at all. In fact, I'm in a lot of debt. My net worth right now is approximately: -$20,000 (dollars, not pesos). However, that's not a very fair way to look at things, because yes, I have savings (in US dollars and Chilean pesos), I live in a nice apartment, I buy groceries every week. I live comfortably and never worry about where my next meal will come from.

Then, we could also talk about privilege. I fully admit that I'm very privileged and I consider myself very blessed. I have a very supportive family, I have a college education, I'm white, I'm from the United States, I've been able to travel and see some of the world outside my home country. If something went seriously wrong, I could be on a plane tomorrow back to the U.S., where my family would welcome me with open arms and help in whatever way they could. I realize that this sets me apart from many Chileans as well as from many people in the U.S. who don't have these privileges.

However, just because I have these privileges does not mean that I always have disposable income. As in, it doesn't mean I have a ton of cash on hand. Sometimes I make very little money. Sometimes I can't afford to go out to eat. Luckily my cash situation is okay at the moment, but I don't know what it's going to be like in a few months.

Also, and most importantly, just because I have these privileges now, doesn't mean I always had them. When I was growing up, my parents worked VERY HARD to give me and my brother and sister the best opportunities. Sometimes, things were tight. We saved money to be able to do things together, like go on vacation, instead of having really nice or expensive things. I have always felt like I belonged to the solid middle-class, never to lower-middle or upper-middle, and much less the upper-class. Yes, my family's situation improved as I got older and we were able to do a lot of things together, like go on great family vacations. My siblings and I all played sports and musical instruments and went on school field trips to places like Mexico and the Bahamas. But none of those things were taken for granted. We worked for them.

For example, when I was five I wanted a horse. My parents said I could get one when I was 10. So I started saving. When I was seven years old, I started working in the calf barn on the farm with my grandmother. I saved all my money, and only spent it to go to Horse Camp during the summer. When I was 10, I bought my horse Nutmeg. Of course, I hadn't saved enough, so my parents lent me the money. I paid them back in weekly installments until I was 15 years old.

That's why it feels weird that here in Chile, I'm all of a sudden "rich" (or cuica). It doesn't feel natural to me. I've never owned a designer anything my whole life. I don't know what it's like to dine in a five star restaurant or stay at a five star hotel. I'm so normal, so average. Yet people here see me and assume otherwise.

The guy I'm dating told me something that I think is really true. He said that it's all relative. If he went to live in Bolivia, he would be viewed as "cuico", even though here in Chile he isn't. It's the same for me. In the U.S., no one would call me rich. But yet, here it's automatically assumed.

This whole self-analysis is part of the reason why, when I first got here, I was obsessed with seeing the "other side" of Chile: the poblaciones. Look for Part II tomorrow...