Sandwiches for breakfast, Spice Girls in the store, and other new discoveries

Ay, caramba! It was another full day here in Santiago, though I got a late start (noon!) due to the fact that I went to bed so late—or early, depending on how you look at things. At home, I hate when I sleep in so late because I feel like I’ve wasted half the day, but here there is less value placed on the mornings and no one seemed to have a problem with the fact that I walked into the kitchen all sleepy-eyed, wearing my pajamas, at about 12:15. Almost immediately, Gladis prepared my desayuno (breakfast). Now, a word about this breakfast business.

In the U.S., we talk about breakfast being the “most important meal of the day,” and many people really enjoy going out for breakfast or brunch and basically gorging. For example, I love having eggs and pancakes and sausage, etc. and then eating dinner around 6 and being done with food for the day. Here, meals are so different. The almuerzo (lunch) is the main meal of the day, so breakfast is kept small, usually consisting of a piece of bread with butter, possibly some sort of fruit, or a sandwich with ham and cheese (I’m not sure how to describe these sandwiches, but we eat them all the time here—they’re good but not the same as sandwiches at home. They’re simple and light and although it’s weird to eat them for breakfast, they’re kind of the go-to food). Chileans also love tea, and they usually have tea or a fruit juice or some sort of Coca Cola product with their meals.

I told Gladis on the very first day that I need milk, at least with breakfast, so I’ve been drinking chocolate milk with my breakfast rather than tea, but my family thinks that’s funny, I think. Milk isn’t just a drink; it’s like another food item, so when I tell them sometimes that I’m not hungry in the afternoon, they say, “Oh, yes, you had a big breakfast—sandwich, milk, fruit—ahh, yes.” To me, that’s not a big breakfast, and milk is not a food, but alas, I’m overruled here. Anyway, Gladis prepared me a sandwich today for breakfast and then I had a glass of milk. She then told me that lunch would be at 2:00, so a mere two hours later, I was expected to eat my big lunch. Gladis often gives me more food than everyone else (and I’m the only one to eat dessert), and I think it’s because when she asks me if I like things, I tell her I like pretty much everything and that I just love food. Now, I think she assumes that I’m accustomed to eating massive amounts of food. Goodness gracious.

For lunch, I had a full plate of tomatoes, onions, lettuce, and corn. We eat a lot of vegetables here, which is a really good thing, but it’s different because in the United States we pour a lot of condiments and toppings on our vegetables and salads. Here, it’s different. Eating a pile of tomatoes with only salt as an accessory is normal, and it’s the same deal with lettuce, onions, and pretty much everything else. I mixed everything together today and poured some olive oil on it, and it was good. I like eating lots of vegetables, but it’s just very different. I was full after this first plate (I ate most of it but there was still a lot of lettuce left on my plate), but then Gladis brought me a hot plate with broccoli, chicken, and rice. I couldn’t finish all of the rice, and I felt bad, but I was glad I’d been able to eat the chicken and broccoli. And THEN, Gladis brought me “dessert” (but, like most things, dessert is healthier here than in the U.S.), which was yogurt and bananas. I ate it, but I was about to explode, so I finally told Gladis that she doesn’t need to make me so much food. This inspired a discussion about the differences between U.S. eating styles and Chilean meals. I think I’ll adjust to this style of eating, but it might help if I’m able to get out of bed and have breakfast before noon!

To finish this discussion of food, I must tell you about the concept of once. Because lunch is so big and is usually served around 2 in the afternoon, and because dinner is smaller (again, a sandwich or salad or something small is acceptable, along with tea of course) and is served around 9 at night, there’s a window during which one might be expected to need a snack. Enter: the once. Restaurants have sections on their menus about things to eat for this snack: a small sandwich or ice cream or a fruity drink or a deal with all three (which I had today, though I then skipped dinner). I think it’s quite practical and rather cute that there’s a designated snack hour in this country. However, I feel like I’m constantly eating. Generally, I’m not a snacker and I’m not one of those people who eats eight small meals throughout the day rather than two large ones (though I realize the latter may be a bit more unhealthy). Also, I often don’t eat at the same time everyday, and I don’t eat three square meals every day. So far, I like the food (though it’s usually pretty bland) and haven’t had too many problems with the culture surrounding mealtime. I wonder how many of these sandwiches I can eat before I never want another one, though…

OK, enough about food. After breakfast this morning, I again asked Gladis if there was anywhere I could go to work out or run. I was getting worried because it doesn’t seem like people here really run or go to the gym. They’re all slim, and it’s because they walk pretty much everywhere, but this won’t cut it for me, especially if I’m going to be eating, eating, eating. I told Gladis I like running because it relieves stress and makes me feel awake and healthy and happy and because I don’t want to get fat. So, today she told me that I could run around the block three times so I didn’t get fat. Kind of funny. But I immeditealy took her up on that offer because for the past two days she’s been telling me that I can’t go running outside EVER (despite the fact that there are some lovely parks around here, not to mention plenty of people hanging out in the streets). So, although it was about 85 degrees and I only had permission to run for about 20 minutes, it was a beautiful thing to put on my tennis shoes and go do something. I know it’s a North American mentality that if I’m not moving rapidly, I’m not doing anything, but truthfully I just felt so much better knowing that, on top of all the walking (which, yes, has value), I had spent at least a small part of my morning getting my heart rate up. Perhaps when I know the city better Gladis will let me run around a different block. Ha!

After my run, I took a shower and— if you can believe it—ate again. I felt like I couldn’t move after lunch, so I helped put things away and then crashed on the couch. Kena and Gladis hung out with me there and we chatted for about an hour and a half about all sorts of things. First, I showed them some pictures of my family and friends. I told them I’m into photography and then I showed them those pictures, too. Kena showed me pictures of her family (they live in Salamanca) and told me about some of her friends. She’s such a sweet girl and seems much older than her age (18), and I enjoy talking to her, although she’s a bit harder to understand than Andrea or Gladis (I think Carolina is the most difficult). Gladis asked me about some stuff in the U.S.—the economic crisis, the election of Obama, and how I feel/how my family is affected by both. It was an interesting conversation and a good opportunity to get a feel for the way the U.S. is perceived by people in other countries (in short: not well). It also impresses me how much people here know about the U.S.—probably more than some people who live in the U.S. And what does anyone in the U.S. know about Chile? The U.S. really has so much influence on the rest of the world. I mean, seriously… they play the Spice Girls and Bryan Adams and Bon Jovi in the supermarket here, and Kena has Rhianna and Justin Timberlake and Nelly Furtado on her iTunes!

Gladis isn’t afraid to talk about her perceptions of North Americans. She basically told me that people here, and people in other countries, don’t look too kindly on us. The generalization is that people in the U.S. think they’re better than others, particularly Latinos. The other day, Fernando said something similar—when he goes to the United States, he says that people ask him how he’s doing “down there,” as if geographically, there is an “up” and a “down” and presumably the U.S. is “up” and therefore better. Clearly, this is discrimination and it’s no different than the social construct of race and the assumption that one’s skin color indicates something about his or her worth. There’s truth in what Fernando and Gladis say about the U.S., but sometimes these conversations are difficult.

I usually remind people here that not everyone in the U.S. is selfish and close-minded and money-grabbing, and then I point out ways in which I am not like that because, whether or not I realized it, I am representing my country in addition to my University and my family in the United States, so if I can make a good impression on these people, then perhaps they won’t all think that people in the U.S. don’t give a you-know-what about anyone else in the world. I remind Gladis that I was raised with values that are very much in line with that which she believes (don’t steal, don’t lie, money can’t buy friends or happiness or a place in Heaven, etc.), and she seems sympathetic to that. I know she’s well-meaning, and I do appreciate having these conversations, but it’s challenging for me because part of me wants to tell her that things aren’t the way she sees them while part of me totally sees what she sees, though through a different lens. Gladis is obviously not a North American-hater if she’s willing to house students from the U.S., and I appreciate that she’s willing to be candid with me about things like this, but nevertheless I try to exercise caution during heated conversations about cultural differences because I can’t predict what might offend her.

Sometimes, I’m not sure what to make of our conversations. For example, everyone—Gladis, Carolina, Andrea, and Kena—likes to comment on my teeth. They say they’re bright and straight and beautiful, and although I don’t think they’re perfect, it’s clear that I take care of my teeth and have visited the orthodontist a few times. In the United States, we take for granted the fact that this is an opportunity that most people have access to: dental care and braces and teeth-whitening solutions and so forth. Here, Gladis says, it’s very expensive to go to the dentist, so a lot of people don’t. They’re aware of the problems with their teeth, but it’s not within their means to do anything about it. This probably explains part of the reason that no one smiles in pictures here, although I know there’s more to it than that; but people are a bit embarrassed, I think, to show off their “imperfect” smiles, especially when they look at pictures of someone like me smiling big with my $4000 mouth job on display. Anyway, they’re very nice about this topic, and they’re constantly commenting on my smile and my teeth in particular, but it’s kind of awkward for me. Gladis says one’s smile and one’s teeth are a very important part of one’s presentation, and I tell her that this is why my mom’s so passionate about dentistry and so dedicated to helping other people improve their dental hygiene.

I asked Gladis what the perception is regarding things like my mom’s dental and medical mission trips to Bolivia, which is much poorer than Chile. Gladis said, as I expected, that the help is clearly needed, and people—whether or not they admit it—are glad to have it; however, it’s as if the North Americans (or Europeans or whatever) don’t know anything about the country in which they’re serving most of the time. They just walk in, tell people how things are going to work, hang around for a week or maybe two, and then leave, without ever fully understanding the culture or taking the time to meet the locals. I have often thought about things like this, especially after having gone on a few missions myself and, more recently, having been thinking about entering some sort of service corps after I graduate. There’s such a fine balance to strike, but I think the key is this: we need to ask people what they need. How different would the world be if, instead of simply barging into places and thinking we know how to fix everyone’s problems, the United States actually valued the opinions of the people living in countries we’re about to enter? Just a thought. The point is, it’s cool that I’m able to semi-participate in conversations that are a bit deeper. It makes me feel like I’m not just a dumb gringa with nothing to say except “Sí” and “Bueno,” comments which, after I repeat them eight times in five minutes, make everyone laugh at me.

It’s so interesting to be here and get a feel for this culture. Some things are great—like the way people are so kind and willing to help and the more relaxed rhythm of the days here. But some things are surprising and even infuriating. For example, Kena showed us a video last night that totally appalled me. Apparently, it was on the news, though I can’t imagine how this aired on TV because it was so awful. It’s a video of a male dancer in a discoteque (club, basically) more or less having sex with a young woman ON STAGE. As if this public display of intimacy weren’t already enough to surprise and appall me, I then found out that this girl had been drugged and was basically unconscious throughout the entire thing. This man treated her like an animal. The video is about ten minutes long, and I wanted to turn it off—I couldn’t watch. But Keenah and Maria José (another of Gladis’ many lovely and sweet nieces who frequently stops by/sleeps here) and Carolina were all watching very intently, saying things like “I can’t believe this” and “Oh my God” and “Poor girl” and “How embarrassing.” They even commented on the fact that this woman was being totally objectified and basically raped. And yet they kept watching and at times they seemed more intrigued or entertained than disgusted. It was really hard for me to watch this, and I’m not telling you all because I want you to think that this happens all the time and no one cares. But machismo is alive and well here, and although Chile has its first female President (Michelle Bachelet) and women don’t need to walk around in skirts all the time, there’s clearly still an idea that women are inferior. Men whistle and shout from cars and—apparently—don’t get put in jail for what seems to be public rape.

I was upset the other day when Gladis and Carolina warned me about Chilean men because it seemed to me like they were stereotyping the entire male sex when they told me, basically, that Chilean guys are somewhat sleezy and very “simple.” However, it doesn’t surprise me that they don’t think too highly of men if they get away with things like this. All the Chilean guys I’ve met have been very nice, but Gladis tells me that sometimes they’re just very smooth. I can’t make a judgment call yet, but the fact that I saw a video like this and got a lecture about Chilean men made me realize that there’s some kind of divide between the sexes here, moreso than in the United States, where we still have our issues (the “glass ceiling,” the objectification of women, a general double-standard when it comes to sex, and so forth).

After hanging out with Kena and Gladis, I went on an outing with Andrea (the one from Brazil). I enjoy hanging out with her because Spanish is her second language too (obviously she speaks Portuguese) and so she talks a bit slower and is more patient with me. I’m also drawn to her personality. She’s 28 but acts a lot younger—kind of like a crazy aunt or something. She’s always got an idea, and she’s really spontaneous and energetic and outgoing. So, she told me we were going to a different part of Santiago to go to the mall and have once and go to a show at the theater that was some sort of comedy about Chilean plants and animals and geography and history (perfect for a foreigner). We had so much fun, and it was awesome to see another part of the city. The show was great, and it was unlike anything I’ve ever seen—similar to a circus or something, with all of the actors wearing strange costumes and using weird voices and running around all silly. We walked around and saw lots of old buildings and pretty churches, and I took in the lights and sounds and smells of this different area, La Providencia. As we walked around, Andrea and I discussed all sorts of things—some questions I have about Brazil and also about Chilean history, boys and relationships (of course!), and differences between English and Spanish and Portuguese (which I found very interesting as a lover of languages). Andrea teaches me a lot—new expressions and cultural things, especially—and she is funny and kind, too. For example, the sign that we all make meaning “OK,” with our thumb and pointer finger touching and the other three fingers held up, means something very awful in Chile. Good things to know!! At the end of the month, Andrea’s going back to Brazil, where she’s a teacher, and that’s a bummer, though she’ll be back again for the month of June.

Santiago is divided into 32 comunas, which is to say that there are many parts—neighborhoods, if you will—in this huge city. It’s like the different areas of Chicago or the East Side/3rd Ward/Downtown districts in Milwaukee. Some of the students in my program live in these other sections, La Providencia or Nuñoa or Las Reinas or Las Condes, for example, and as I saw today, they’re getting a totally different view of Chile. La Providencia is lovely—there are more trees and terraces and there are malls and McDonalds and pretty buildings and huge parks with statues. To me, it seems like I live in the city and they live in the suburbs (I say “they” but there are two other people in my program who live in el centro also), though it’s all Santiago in actuality.

Yesterday, when Fernando was talking about the history of UAH, he said something cool about why it’s located where it’s located. Universities spring up all over, he said, and La Católica and the Universidad de Chile and other schools around here are in areas that could be described as “nicer.” But, as someone who studies in the very heart of Milwaukee’s downtown, I can appreciate that Fernando sees a value in UAH’s “grittier” location. To be in the center of Santiago, despite the fact that it’s generally the home of lower income families and despite its rugged and worn-down appearance, is to be in the heart of the city, he said. I liked that. And now that I’ve seen just a few other areas of the city, I notice the difference. But I feel safe here, and I feel like I am getting a valuable experience here. I’ll enjoy visiting the other students and hanging out in the other areas—it’s very beautiful in these different parts of the city—but I don’t mind that I come home to a simple house in a neighborhood that looks kind of run-down.

The first day I was here, Gladis told me to stand up straighter and hold my head higher and walk with pride and confidence. I didn’t understand why this was such a big deal, but now I do. For Gladis, it’s, to use a fun Chilean expression, superimportante to present yourself as best as possible and to be “una persona decente.” Gladis told me about her childhood, about how she grew up with very little and started working when she was fourteen and got married and separated and had Carolina and found this apartment and so forth. She told me that she’s never had much, but she realizes that money can’t buy you everything. It can’t buy you, as she told me, your values, which are the most important thing a person can have. Gladis inspires me in many ways. She’s a woman of humble means who takes pride in everything she does—preparing healthy meals, keeping an orderly house, instilling positive virtues in all of the young women she mentors—and she knows what matters in life. Again I tell you, Mom, you’d like her. Living in the center of town is providing me with all sorts of insights, and I’m beginning to appreciate it a bit more than before. It doesn’t look like much, but Santiago has much to offer aside from this rugged downtown and the people and conversations and insights that I’m gaining here make the ruggedness appealing and familiar and meaningful too.

That’s all for now. Tomorrow, I’m going to Mass and then Andrea has some brilliant plan that I didn’t totally understand when she described her ideas earlier. Stay tuned, and buenos noches.

Amanda