A City with Two Faces / Vacationing by the Ocean

(Above is a picture of me, standing on the balcony of our apartment overlooking the ocean)

It has been a hectic yet normal yet exhilarating month since I last wrote! Sorry about the wait... every week, I remind myself to blog but am distracted when I find a new place to explore with new people or have to study for an upcoming exam. I go to bed exhausted each night but also content and satisfied. I am writing today in the early hours of the morning to procrastinate on sleeping and studying for the biology test on Monday and to take some time to reflect (and remember!) all that has happened this month. I have the most interesting background music right now: Spanish pop and reggae blasting from a house in the neighborhood that is probably hosting a party.

Characterizing Santiago (and Chile)
As I save all my photos in meticulously marked folders on my computer, I am realizing both the great number of new places I have visited and the wealth of experiences left for me to explore. 

Simple trips to the supermarket or farmer's market to me are joyous occasions of looking at fruit and chuckling internally about how incredibly similar and yet so distinctive the Chilean environment is compared to the American and Vietnamese lifestyles.  

I add the perception of a Vietnamese perspective here because I find that Chile is a mix of an American and Vietnamese appearance. I would define my sector of the city as more American. The buildings are new, modern, and hip, surrounded by malls and glass skyscrapers. Still, keep in mind that in Chile, 'skyscrapers' are a fourth of an average office building in Albuquerque, due to the building codes guarding against earthquake damage. 

Meanwhile, the people dress in the latest fashions, which in Chile means ankle boots (EVERYONE owns a pair), jeans, and a nice sweater or crop top), and a good number speak and/or understand English. The huge proportion of English speakers in my neighborhood is astounding considering that only about 3% of Chileans speak English. In fact, my Chilean dad just might know more US geographical sites and songs than I do. Here are just a few examples that will further my embarrassment as a bad American: I forgot that Hoover Dam existed until he reminded me the other day and could not recognize Aerosmith and U2 songs, among other classics, during a family night of karaoke. 

Also, my Chilean classmates are very Americanized in their cultural knowledge and attitude. They watch American television shows and listen to American singers, preferring them to the 'fome' (Chilean slang for 'boring') Spanish variety. They even use American curse words as an addend to the Spanish ones. I find myself even a bit jealous of the last part! I wish that Spanish could be taught in quite as an immersive level as rhe English language here - the students are learning without as much effort and bore because they are engrossed in what they consider a 'cool' and 'fun' culture in television, movies, celebrity gossip, and songs.

This is what I define as more 'American,' although of course the USA also has poorer regions that do not resemble a metropolitan developed area. As a side note, I heard something interesting from a Chilean the other day - the rich of the Chileans are about as rich as middle class Americans. I wonder if that is true... 

Above: A panaderia (bakery with drinks, ice cream, empanadas, and other bakery goods)

Bakeries are VERY common here. The joke is that there are three common places: bakeries, pharmacies, and banks. And it is true! At every street corner, one can find at least one of these.

Below: Random picture of downtown Santiago.

On the other hand, there are other sectors (called 'comunas') of the city that are much much poorer and more polluted. I have not been to these parts many times because different social classes here mix neither socially nor geographically. This is due in part due the very present social stratification and the inherent problem of a developing country. As the country continues to skyrocket economically (and with that, Americanize culturally), the rich become richer and the poor remain as they are (or become poorer). As a way to maintain the clean appearance of the richer communes here, panhandlers, in particular, are not allowed to be in these neighborhoods. For that reason, it calls my attention that I have not seen one panhandler since I arrived nor have I interacted with someone who is not in my Chilean family's social class besides our family housekeeper (which practically every family I know has).

Example: Bahia Horcon (The BEACH!)

Recently, my family vacationed by the beach as a part of an extended weekend following the holiday of the Assumption of Mary. The social division within Chile was very obvious in the city. There were basically two parts: the rich vacationers' sector comprised of one large gated neighborhood of apartments and the residents' sector with a more polluted shore, less-maintained buildings, and street vendors. I enjoyed both parts, actually... the first offered my tranquility while the other had great food and another look at culture.

But to start from the beginning...

One of the privileges of living in Santiago is that we receive the best of both worlds: we marvel at the snow-topped cordillera (mountain range) that surrounds the city and can drive to the beach, the other geograhical extreme, in an hour. 

Although the weather was frigid and the ocean even colder, the feel of the sand, the sound of the waves every morning, and waking up to the sun on my face every day was magnificent. Every morning when I woke up, I went on the balcony of our rented apartment, took pictures, and soaked in the sun and the meditative sound and smell of the waves, only a few meters away. This was a weekend of a double cram session for biology and chemistry and, although usually this would be a cause for panic and altered hormone levels (aka augmented cortisol level due to stress), studying on the beach proved to be a productive and near-relaxing experience.

Since it would have been uncomfortable, not to mention unintelligent, to swim in the ocean, my family and I played tennis with rackets completely made of wood. While it was uncomfortable at first, these odd rackets (used for a game-I-can't-remember but is obviously neither for tennis nor badminton) became a good arm and wrist workout. This was my first time playing tennis and I was, as expected, awful. But I consider it progress that the racket made contact with the ball the majority of the time! To the left is a picture of me trying (and failing) at skating on my Chilean sister's 'Penny.' The photo on the bottom is of a stray dog who kept on wandering near my Chilean sister as I played tennis with my Chilean dad. Stray dogs are all too common a sight in Chile; one can find them anywhere!

A funny anecdote if you would like to laugh at me, as my Chilean family has continuously done since: I was jogging in the apartment complex property one morning to find the entrance to the ocean. The odd fact about the location was that the apartments were on a cliff. After receiving directions, I figured out that the method to arrive at ocean level was by descending the escalators of another apartment building. However, once I was outside of the apartments, I discovered that the shore was blocked by fences. Running back and forth trying the lock of the door of the fence did not really work (as would be expected) so, without another choice, I hopped the fence to the ocean. Once I rendezvous'd with my Chilean father afterwards, I learned that I had misinterpreted the directions: turns out, there was an elevator in the middle of two apartment complexes that could be entered by crossing a bridge. From the elevator, there was no fence blocking the ocean. Oh, well. I like to imagine that I gracefully hopped over the fence in my quest to reach the ocean to touch the water and sand. 

(Above is me, very happy, preparing for the lunch below)

Above is a picture of the types of meat my Chilean dad grilled for our Saturday lunch. It consisted of all types of meat imaginable, plus fish especially for me. Pictured on the right is my plate. Addends to food here include tomates and onions (as 'ensalada chilena') and beets (which I love!)

Over those three days, we ate countless mussels, fish, and shrimp for lunch, once (means 11 o'clock but is the 5pm snack), and dinner. 

Picture on the left: Street vendors of souvenirs (notice the colorful buildings - I love this fact!)

Picture on the right: The central street of restaurants, homes, and two small food markets

To prepare our meals, my Chilean mom and I drove (for two minutes) along the coastline to the citizen's part of the pueblo (a term used for a tiny town consisting of a few thousand residents and, of which, people in Santiago call every other town not their own because since Santiago contains a third of the whole country's population, the size of other cities are 'tiny' in comparison). There, we found seafood and fruit markets, venders selling fresh vegetables from the back of their cars and vans, people selling cheap souvenirs for tourists, and fishermen cutting nets to separate the crabs they had caught that day. 

Another cultural thing I realized that day is the informal practice of paying a man for parking. We parked in a nearly empty lot to begin walking around the 'business district of the town' (which looked to be several cars' lengths on all sides). When we finished our shopping, the man stood in the middle of the central street (aka only street in town) to direct the traffic and allow my Chilean mom to back out. For this, he was paid some hundred pesos (a few US dollars, at best). 

(Above: restaurant with empanadas)

In the entire pueblo, there were probably five restaurants, one of which sold the most heavenly empanadas I have ever eaten (shrimp and cheese). I was so hungry and the empanada was so delicious that I did not even take the time to take a picture of it! 

It was a windy ride home; we drove around and around mountains to ascend. By the time we finally reached flat non-circular road, the family and especially I was feeling headache-y and awful, so we stopped the car and I walked around. A tiny store (more like a shack) was set up on the side of the road selling bread (Chileans eat tons of bread, the second highest consumer of bread after Germany) and drinks. There were also two woman pushing carts on the side of the road in the middle of the hot sun selling freshly made pastries (all with manjar, which is a sugary sustance made from milk placed on every pastry, bread, and cake here. And also eaten on its own.). Anyways, we bought water and some pastries from the vendors and continued on our way home to begin another week of new discoveries.