Chile, What Drew Me There and Drove Me Away

My last post was the day before my 24th birthday. That was a long time ago, and since then I have moved back to the States, survived my first winter in over 2 years (which really isn't anything big because I'm in the DC area, snow sprinklings are true winter events here). 

The question I find myself faced with right now here in blogosphere is, what has kept me from blogging in the past 6 months? While the answer may want read like an epic poem, I will do my best to keep this post sensible, clear and not unreasonably long. The interesting thing is, I started writing this draft just the night before Kyle posted the group blog idea, What Draws Us To Or Drives Us From Chile, which seems entirely tied to me ditching the realm of public writing for so long. 

I have had two very separate and different experiences of Chile: study abroad and what I have come to call "life". My study abroad story is pretty much the same one we all repeat to each other when we meet...what is the deal? Are we all from the same womb? Is our generation instrinsically prone to latin-love-affairs-turned-serious-life-altering-decisions? Something to think about. Neruda, Mistral, Allende, Pinochet, military coup, long skinny country with dope geography, all buzz words most Chile study abroaders pop out about their reasons for giving this place ago. I was no different. So yes, I studied abroad my junior year (other july 05-06ers out there?) and life, in general, was study abroad-tastic. I went to class, I drank beer at noon, I danced until the micros started running again, I traveled, I fell in love, and, thank god, I learned Spanish. Main goal accomplished, check plus. I returned home sobbing, bemoaning the long-distance state of my relationship. D and I held it out and as soon as I could graduate and put together some dollar bills, I hopped a plane with a half-cocked plan and tried out Chile times 2. 

Ah yes. The Chilean Love Affair, the second round. I realize now that I never was head over heels in love with Chile. I knew I thought Santiago was just ok, not exactly my scene if we're talking about sweet cities, but people I loved were there so I knew I'd be ok. Besides, I didn't want to do what a lot of my fellow graduates were doing. I wasn't ready for this internship here, that intership there, foot in the door helloooooo career! I had (HAVE) no idea what path to take, all I knew was someone I loved was somewhere and I couldn't stand another minute living in the agony of separation and I wanted to grab life by the ***** and stick myself out there, really project myself out of my comfort zone. 

But slowly I began to experience my environment as toxic. The food, the transportation, the work, the people. The bad started to sit on the good like a giant boulder that I lacked the strength to move. I never really got the ball rolling, mostly meaning my work was not satisfying enough to keep me motivated; I was treading water and eventually I was going to drown. The saving grace? My gringa friends. We may have complained about the same ridiculously frustrating or ridiculously hilarious things, (rampant incompetence/racism/classism/sexism, is there a "service" industry? chilena friends? am I gonna die on public transport? pokemonas, mullets) but we made life FUN and supported each other through the madness. And many of you still are! But for me, Chile Round 2 ended after a year and a half and I find myself back in Gringolandia, the forever displaced gringa trying to find her way.  

Did I leave Chile because of Chile? In part yes. But mostly, Chile and I, at this point in time, are not the right fit. There is something I need to be doing in the world right now and somehow I know to the core of my being that Chile is not where this is going to happen. In a certain respect I am disappointed in a lot of my behavior while I was there. I was often impatient, uncompassionate, rude and judgemental. I told myself it was fair because of how I was treated so often, but in retrospect it just made me bitter. It was energy wasted. Now I'm not beating myself up saying whoa is me it's all my fault, but it's important to know that it is something I am slowly recognizing. Chile was this magnifying glass, like a personal development alarm that would go off all too often to tell me, "Yo gringa! Get your **** together fast or someone or something is gonna mess you over!"

I left Chile for introspection and reconnection, with myself and with family and old friends.  

If I were a spool of thread, my time in Chile was one of unravelling. This experience was both scary and very, very necessary. Before I was wound up way too tight and not in the way I wanted to be. My life in Chile took me out of my comfort zone, forced me through challenges I would have certainly avoided if it had been possible. While many of those experiences I hated bitterly while I was in them, they were gifts for me to practice being the person I want to be. I am learning to come full circle and appreciate Chile in a different way and recognize the ways I think it is sick and the ways I think it is healthy. And most of all, how not to take things so personally. I can honestly share that I am optimistic and happy and certainly no longer the anxious girl I once was. And I share this small victory with Chile, its mountains and its sea, and all the people there that I love.  

What do Chileans think of gringos?

This is in response to the group blogging that Kyle has been organizing. Go check out her blog for links to other participants' blogs.  

I've been resisting reading everyone's posts so I won't be influenced by things people have already said, but I imagine I'll repeat things here just because many of us have a lot of shared experiences. Nevertheless, here goes. 

What do Chileans think about gringos? My gut response to this question is simple: I haven't the foggiest idea. In fact, most of the time when I catch a Chilean unabashedly staring at me, I shout (internally, of course), "What in the **** are you thinking? Is there food on my face? Is my fly open? Does the capitalistic society I represent disgust you? Do you find my obvious foreignness fascinating? Are you thinking of every MTV stereotype and applying it to me?" Although to be honest, I'm usually just thinking, "Please stop undressing me with your eyes. Please. Right now. Now? How about now? No? ****it."  

But the question is not what Chileans think of me necessarily, it is what they think of gringos in general. But I have a doubt, as my students like to say. First of all, do we interpret this as gringos in the States, or expat gringos? Is there a difference? In my experience, it totally depends. For example, it seems that for some it is particularly difficult to understand why a gringo would leave the US, especially to go to Chile. A friend of a friend once asked me, "What are you doing here?" I told him I was, well, um, living here because I wanted to experience life outside the US and be in Latin America. He was dumbfounded. "But why? The US is so much better. Everything works there. Life is so much nicer and easier." This understanding contributes, I believe, to what seems to be a commonly held perception that the gringo has it made: money, cars, a house, etc. With the help of television and Hollywood, this perception is often taken to the next step: the gringo is a spoiled creature with an easy life. Living here, I have learned the influential power television has over the perceptions held by the masses. Many a time a Chilean has asked me, full of curiosity, if we really are like those teen movies they always see. Are our high schools overrun by cliques of sexy stick figures and hulking football players? I never really know how to respond except by saying, well, according to my personal reality, no, but I imagine in some places yes, although it is most likely an exaggeration of a truth. 

Speaking of truths, a student of mine (grown man, very high up in the production company he works for) often likes to tell me how gringos are. Just the other day he told me that all gringos have huge cars. I tried to tell him that yes, while many do, there are people who choose to have smaller cars, or hybrid cars, or (gasp!) no car at all. They do exist. He informed me that I was wrong; "the gringo has to have a big car, it is his way". Thus spoke Mr. PP. 

In terms of personality, however, I have heard some interesting conflicting perspectives. During a conversation where I was the only gringa, I heard of the shameful character of "the gringo" from someone who had firsthand experience with them (it seems they had all forgotten I was in the room, or that I was a gringa, because no one thought about their experiences with me...I was invisible, which is surprising because I am usually the gargantuan white elephant in the room, so to speak). In this situation, these people railed on the gringo as "cold" (probably the most common criticism), not affectionate at all and very difficult to get to know. The men are all business, the women all self-obsessed, and instead of raising their children, they spoil them. 

At the same time, however, Chileans have told me how friendly gringos are, often using the term "buena onda", they are fun to be around and know how to have a good time. For example, when D came to the States to visit me (over 2 years ago) he was pleasantly surprised by how warm and welcoming my family and friends were. It seems, similar to Chilean culture, if you have an in, you can learn a different, often more positive aspect of the culture and the people. 

It is difficult to demonstrate all the different perspectives I have come across and some days I think it's all horrible, others all superficially positive. Suffice to say, my life here has been terribly easy thanks to the fact that I am white. If I could count all the times I've tried to field questions and dispel myths about African Americans, well, I can't. And that, my friends, deserves its own post. 

The Chilean "yes"

When I'm feeling a little bit cynical, I usually tell people the Chilean "yes" is really a "no" or just a massive lie. But being cynical or not, the Chilean "yes" most certainly does not mean what my "yes" means.
Case and point: yesterday I was going to meet up with a potential private student. By going to, I mean that we had spoken the Friday before and decided he would come by the apartment after his work day ended around 6 or 6:30. Super. I said I would call if there were a problem. So, Monday rolls around, I make sure I'm home, get my materials together and I wait. Ah, silly gringa. Never wait! I waited, slowly becoming more anxious that he just wasn't going to show and that I would miss the Aeroboxing class I so desperately wanted to go to at the gym. Now I know I really should have turned off my gringaness and packed on my chileno sense and just called the man right then and there. But I waited. Fortunately, by 7:30 I came to my senses and thought, DUH Emita, call him! So he answered, totally relaxed, ah yes, ok, let me call you back in a few minutes. Ok sure. He calls back, is right now ok for you? I said yes, wincing as I knew I was saying good bye to my gym class, but realizing I really needed this job. Everything turned out fine, and I tell this story not because it was particularly painful or a hard lesson to learn, but that somehow, after all this time, I still fall into the trap of thinking with my gringa sense. When one agrees to a time and place, that agreement is in fact true, a solid yes, and if I need something to be confirmed I say just that.
It's a different story here, my friends. It might seem a little backwards at first, but when someone says, hey let's get together! And you say, sweet! How about tomorrow? And they answer, ok, yeah! That DOES NOT mean you are going to get together tomorrow. Confused? I know. Now think about the fact that this applies to everything, not just informal social engagements. How do people run businesses like this? I have no idea! I can't tell fact from fiction! And boy does it cause a conundrum in relationships. Sometimes, just to make things less complicated, I ask D, "Now is that a Chilean yes or a gringo yes?" I realize this isn't an exactly fair comparison, Chilean with gringo, and I'm leaving out a lot of important cultural nuances, but it's what I've got to work with, so I'm sticking to it.

Gangsta's Paradise

I'm sure you've all experienced how intimately connected smells and sounds are to our memories. If you've spent some time in Santiago then I'm also sure you've experienced, for better or for worse, the predominant musical tastes in this city.
With that as a basic preface, I'd like to share with you a bit of my morning.

Between English classes I popped into the Starbucks on Isidora Goynechea to read for a bit and have an overpriced coffee drink. Once settled in my comfy chair, book in hand and sipping away, my ears perked up. "Is that what I think it is?" All at once confused and somehow excited at the prospect, I realized yes, it was exactly what I thought it was: just loud enough to identify, Starbucks was rockin' Gangsta's Paradise to provide some background tunes while their uppercrust Santiago businessmen and women had meetings or clickety-clacked on their laptops. Ignoring the irony of the situation, I basked in the glow of being transported to another time and place. Well, I don't think you could call it basking, or even a glow, because I found myself reliving some awkward 5th grade moments, but still - they're pure magic, those coffee beans.
[As a side note, I must add that I pretty much hate Starbucks in the States, sure I patronize it occasionally, but the coffee really isn't that good. Expat life has changed me it seems. Go figure.]

This Starbucks experience got me thinking about an ever present topic for me in this country: what is the deal with the music?! Think about it. If you had to generalize the taste of music in Chile, would you say it was great? Probably not. If you do, by all means let me know why! Perhaps you have a great spot, or friend, or something that could give me some glimmer of hope in this category, because, being totally honest here, my experience has taught me otherwise.

Now, let me explain myself. Clearly this is a relative issue, who can say what is good taste and what is bad? Aren't they just different? I gotta say, not quite. Besides, what I mostly want to talk about is variety. If you've ever talked to a fellow foreigner about music in Chile, it usually only takes a minute (if that) for someone to mention "the 80's". Sometimes people get really excited about this, "Oh! I love 80's music! Sweet!", but usually once they discover that the discoteca they were partying away in wasn't actually 80's themed the novelty tends to wear off.

I realize there are many reasons for this, and I certainly can't expect the lesser known artists from around the world to be popular and all over the radio or TV here, but still. I feel like a major vein has been blocked up and it's making me suffer! (Ok, so maybe I'm a bit extreme in comparing music variety to life's blood...just go with it).

80's music, however, is not the only popular imported genre here. Let me give you example number 2. Last weekend, while diligently correcting English homework as D did his calculus/engineering/structure/concrete/ihavenoidea homework, D began to lament the fact that he was going to miss this awesome group that's coming to play in Santiago. Curious, I inquired, "Que grupo?"
MEGADEATH!!!!
Sigh. I should have known. Although it sounded verging on cute said in his chileno accent.

So, to finish my brief rant, I was an 80's music fan...not so much anymore. And I have never nor will I ever be a fan of whatever genre Megadeath falls into.

Any glimmers of light out there? Or am I stuck in a music vacuum? I'd like to detach myself from my computer every now and then to have a nice evening with some great music.