Too Much Mayonnaise Is Never Enough

As I perused the innumerable vegetable, fruit, meat, and seafood stands of the monstrous La Vega Market (the size of a city block), there were several sights and sounds I was taking in.  The vendors packing up and sweeping the floors, the savory dishes being served in the food stands, the dogs running free trying to find the next freebie.  There were also a few things I was thinking.  The first was "Where is this fabled fresh salmon for $10 a kilo?"  The second was, "I'm going to miss this place."  By 'place', I didn't necessarily mean La Vega (I will miss La Vega, though), but rather Chile. 

To me, La Vega just oozes Chilean culture like not many other places in Santiago can.  Vendors and their regulars chatting about the latest futbol match or political scandal, while Cumbia blasts from behind the stand.  Old men and women sitting in groups (separated by gender, of course) chatting and playing cards.  The young couples, attached at the hip, casually strolling up and down the aisles seemingly looking for nothing at all.  The last Saturday I was in Chile, I ate at the food stands in La Vega, and a rag tag marching band just came right through the area playing boozy tunes.  What an excellent way to go out!

It's moments like this these past few weeks that have made me realize how much I'll miss Chile.  I've had a great year here with great friends.  Some highlights include visiting the small beach town of Pichilemu, going to Lollapalooza music festival, seeing that masterful churango player at El Persuigidor Jazz Club, ALL of the Cumbia concerts I attended, traveling and camping in the South for my summer vacation, seeing Torres del Paine, skiing in the Andes, my weekend in Valparaiso, New Year's Eve in Valparaiso, and having two of my best friends from university visit me.  Of course, there were plenty more.

Recently, I've been thinking about the ways in which the general personality of the Chilean people vibes and does not vibe with my own personality.  Just a couple thoughts here:

One main way in which we vibe:  Most Chileans I have had any sort of contact with have been very shy at first.  This includes my students, friends, acquaintances, etc.  As Chileans will tell you, and a theory that I condone, is that the geographical isolation has made them more reserved.  With the Andes in the East, the Pacific Ocean in the West, the desert in the North, and eternal rain in the South.  However, this shyness isn't just for foreigners; it also extends to their fellow Chileans!  I've never been at a party where two Chileans who didn't previously know each other immediately strike up conversation after introducing themselves (while the opposite seems to be a rather common occurrence with the Argentinians and Brazilians I have met).  It usually takes a few drinks before Chileans loosen up to be that social!

One main way in which we don't vibe:  It's all culturally relative, but I thought that Santiaguinos (people of Santiago) were very unconscientious in some ways.  On a superficial level, people would often stand in the middle of the sidewalk or sit in the middle of the stairs on a busy stairwell despite their very obviously being an obstacle to everyone else.  Another example is when someone drops something and doesn't realize that they have dropped it, no one else around will inform them they have done so.  Ultimately, I think that this is more of a symptom of being in a big city and the lack of community that inevitably goes along with that.  Because on the flip side of this, Chileans are incredibly close with their families and I think most would do anything for their families.  Nonetheless, this was probably the most frustrating day-to-day experience I had with the Chilean demeanor.

The lists go on, but I can happily say the things I miss and the things I vibed with concerning Chile greatly outnumber the things I will not miss and the things I didn't vibe with. 

Hilariously, I have noticed small things that changed in my daily habits after spending a year in Chile.  For example, I put more butter, salt, and mayonnaise on food than I ever used to before (which used to be practically none at all).  I couldn't say specifically what deeper ways Chile has changed me this soon after leaving Chile, but what I do know is that living in a different culture invariably deepens your worldview and the way in which you see yourself in the world.

Chi-chi-chi, le-le-le.  Viva Chile!

Mi Despedida

For my last week in Chile, I was not planning on doing too much except for seeing friends, doing a lot of partying, and going on a lot of wine tours.  I had already seen most all of the landmarks in Santiago, so I wasn't concerned with seeing them again (many I had seen more than a handful of times over the course of a year).  For a variety of reasons, I was only able to schedule in two wine tours.  Some wineries only did group tours, one winery was randomly not doing a tour the day we tried to go, and others simply never responded to my tour requests.  Nothing too special about the wine tours I did go on, although one of the wineries was located at the base of a mountain on the east side of Santiago.  One particularly interesting fact was that since the winery was built on a slope, the grapes grown at the bottom of the slope have a slightly different flavor than the ones at the top.  This is because the ones grown at the top experience slightly cooler temperatures.  It would probably only be possible for a sommelier to taste the difference, but it was an interesting fact to learn nonetheless.

During the week I went out with my friends, but it was the big bang I was going out with that I was really looking forward to.  I organized my despedida (going-away party) to begin at my favorite bar in Santiago...and in Chile, really.  The notorious La Piojera.  I've written about it multiple times in past entries, but it bears a re-description.  This riotous, rough-and-tumble establishment is something like 90 years old and has been saved from developers by its loyal clientele (according to Lonely Planet guide books).  During the day, the place has a solid group of older regulars, but after the sun goes down, out come the young Chileans of all types: college kids, business professionals, and troublemakers.  Also, there are good amounts of foreigners.  There are some things I have come to expect when I go to La Piojera: there will be one or more individuals that are waaaay too drunk, there will be at least one fight and/or at least one person will get kicked out, and the bar area will stink like stale piss.  As luck, or rather unbridled regularity, would have it, all three things previously mentioned occurred.  

There were tons of people at La Piojera on that Friday night my group had to crowd around towards the entrance.  After struggling to get drinks because some rookie was working behind the bar, we went to another one of my favorite places, La Fonda Permanente (The Permanent Block Party).  Another dirty dive club with cheap drinks and great live music.  Over the course of the last year, I had many nights out that, in the swirly, smoky haze of Santiago nightlife, have some how ended up at La Fonda Permanente.  La Fonda is guaranteed to have great Cumbia music every weekend, and this night was no exception.  Hilariously, and typical to Chilean nightlife, we arrived at midnight and absolutely no one was there.  But by the time the band started playing (1:30...2:00 a.m...?  Who knows?) the place was all but packed.  We danced until the band was done playing, and then we went to a karaoke bar and did awful renditions of good songs until about 5 a.m.  Highlights being my friend Adam getting up on stage to cooly perform a number of gangsta rap songs from the 90s.  Another being when my friend Belen and I performed "Kiss" by Prince.  As intoxicated as I may have been, I was definitely conscious enough to realize how awful we sounded.  That's what you get when you do karaoke and only know the chorus of a song (doh!).  After a long night of friends, booze, dancing, music, karaoke, and goodbyes, it was finally time to head home.  I said my last goodbyes with tearful hugs with the last people standing (Belen and Emilie) and hopped into my last late night taxi in Santiago.

En Patagonia

Sometime toward the end of this crazy adventure, I made the decision that I would not leave the region without having done at least one of two things: visit Machu Picchu or visit Patagonia.  Patagonia quickly became the likely candidate while considering the state of my finances.  Unfortunately, it also meant that I was invariably going to be visiting toward the beginning of winter.  If Patagonia is known for anything, it's the inhospitable climate that people have inexplicably endured for many, many years.  Every website and forum I looked through mentioned the freight train wind, the deluges of rain, and the piles of snow.  In fact, I was fairly anxious prior to my trip due not only to my typical pre-trip jitters, but also to the images of the apocalyptic weather I thought I was going to have to suffer through.

I had a conversation with my friend, Boris, a couple months before I left for Patagonia.  He had just returned from Patagonia and I asked, "Will I be able to camp and hike when I go at the end of May?"  He replied, "If you want to die!"  Then he started laughing maniacally.  "Well," I said to myself, "I guess that's not an option."

Luckily, it didn't turn out nearly as bad as I thought it would.  However, the first two days I was there it did not stop raining.  I flew into Punta Arenas early in the morning and soon fell asleep after arriving at my hostel.  The first day I spent exploring the city with my umbrella in hand.  From the multitude of restaurants and bars, I was able to get a sense of how bustling the city must be during high season between November and March.  Since it was raining and low season, though, the city was practically a ghost town.  I stepped into one of the only local restaurants that looked open on that rainy Sunday and had my favorite Chilean dish (cazuela) along with a beer.

Afterwards, I walked along the coast and looked towards the ocean.  It was hard to believe how "close" I was to Antarctica.  It did feel like the end of the world...in a way.

The next day, I took a bus to Puerto Natales which is farther north.  My hostel was practically empty except for one other visitor and the owner.  The next day there was drizzle and I walked around the town and along the coast.  The next day it snowed all day long.  Finally realizing there is not much to do in Puerto Natales itself, I scheduled myself in for a day-long tour for Torres del Paine National Park.  Torres del Paine is the sine qua non of Patagonia.  It's a gigantic national park and without a doubt one of the biggest tourist draws in South America. Any descriptions would not do it justice so I'll let the pictures speak for themselves (above).  The snow made everything seem so serene and majestic, but I would have really liked to have been able to camp and hike there.

The day after I returned to Punta Arenas and decided to take a ferry across the strait to Tierra del Fuego (Land of Fire).  Unfortunately, because of the ferry schedule, I only had a little time to spend in Porvenir, a little town on the coast of Tierra Del Fuego.  The wind was bitingly cold - even colder than Punta Arenas for God knows what reason.  I could tell why they call it the land of fire from looking at the outlying land of the city.  It looked like all the hills had been scorched by fire.  Very desolate in a beautiful kind of way (which is also an apt description for much of what I saw of Patagonia.)

Afterwards, I spent one more night in Punta Arenas and the next morning took my flight back to Santiago.  As a result of the weather and it being low season, I don't think I got the full Patagonian experience, but I am sure glad I went.  Torres del Paine was the worth the entire trip.