Seat belts for Minors

Chile recently passed a seat belt law for minors and I am thrilled! Finally children have to wear a seat belt in the back seat of cars and children under 12 are not allowed to sit in the front seat. Currently in Chile, you can still see babies held in arms, children on laps, and several kids bouncing around the backseat of cars, even on the highway.

I will always remember my white knuckle car ride here in the backseat with a five-year-old child a few months after arriving. The parents told him causally to buckle up, he didn’t, and for them it wasn’t a battle worth fighting. He bounced around the whole trip to my wide-eyed terror (I already have driving-related anxiety) as I catastrophized about how my entire life I would regret not forcibly buckling up that child if something were to happen to him. It was a moment where I felt my cultural differences so acutely, and even though I was witnessing something that felt so needlessly risky, I was deferential toward the parents and the culture I was visiting. I assuaged my anxiety with stories from my mother about what life was like growing up in the 1960’s, riding free in my grandfather’s station wagon – and she was just fine. I like the parents, they are good friends and I know they love their child, but at that moment it was hard to overcome my cultural prejudices.

Anyway, it still scares the bejesus out of me every time I see it and I am glad that Chile’s taking steps to protect it’s youngest citizens. I know that it won’t stop immediately, especially babes-in-arms. Car seats are expensive and culture changes slowly. There is already a lot of push back. Some online commenters on the news stories seem to think the new rule is unnecessary if you’re a cautious driver. Others are comparing it to the recent contentious law which requires drivers to wear a reflective vest while exiting the car while it is parked on the street. Another big concern is that currently children usually don’t have to pay in the “collectivo” official carpool taxis because they sit on their parent’s laps, but now will legally need to take up an extra seat, and thus drivers will probably charge adult prices for them.

Despite all the challenges and push back, I am still hopeful that we will see less of this, if only for for my own blood pressure.

 

A Thick Cloud: Smoking in Chile

Forty-percent* of Chileans smoke cigarettes. This rate is declining every year, but still Chile has the fifth highest rate of smokers in the world, just after Greece, Bosnia, Russia and Bulgaria. Compared to seventeen-percent of people in the US, it seems like a lot.

Walking down the busy streets of Santiago, it is very likely that someone behind or in front of you will be smoking. In your apartment, there’s a good chance that one of your two immediate next door neighbors will smoke. And during those hot summer nights, you better believe the neighbor below you will be smoking out their bedroom window and directly into yours. Cigarette butts dot every sidewalk, waiting to be swept by city employees. Thankfully, smoking inside restaurants was banned a few years ago, but out on the restaurant patios you can still see and smell guests smoking.

If you’re like me, raised in the 90s, it’s hard to imagine so many smokers until you see it. Smoking cigarettes publicly was already effectively vilified before I reached adolescence. I remember being aghast when one of our neighbors left a pack of cigarettes on our kitchen counter, right at my eye-level. How could someone so nice do something so awful as smoke? While I’ve become slightly less judgmental and moral righteous, now I tend to wonder, “How could someone so smart do something so awful as smoke?” But of course, it has little to do with intelligence and has everything to do with society and addiction.

These days I don’t think I have many, if any, friends from the US who smoke cigarettes regularly. I think it’s generally considered an expensive and inconvenient [and embarrassing?] habit to continue. Companies fund cessation programs, campuses ban it, and people complain if you do it too close to them. Those who can quit, already have. Thus, in the grand American tradition of, “just use willpower to make yourself better” you might be considered weak-willed or unstable if you are still addicted. This is obviously not a very productive or helpful attitude, but it is common where I grew up.

Here in Chile, nearly all of my friends smoke, especially the women. Chilean women are less likely to smoke than Chilean men, but the rate of female smokers here is still the third-highest in the world. Women in smoking in public might even be considered by some to be a symbol of liberation from machisimo culture. I don’t mind the smoke or that they do it, but it’s still mildly surprising to me. How do you explain, “No, I don’t mind if you smoke, but I am surprised that you want to smoke 5 cigarettes tonight .” Some things are best left unsaid, especially as a foreigner.  They are educated professionals (grown-ass adults), they clearly know the health impacts… the graphic pictures of mouth and lung disease are on the cigarettes boxes! Yet, there doesn’t seem to be any motivation to stop or do it less.**

I am hopeful that Chile is gradually moving away from smoking and away from being the “smoker’s corner” of South America. Living here still requires tolerating the thick cloud and those who didn’t get benevolently brainwashed as kids.  As I have seen in my short years here, social change can happen surprisingly fast in this small country, and once they decide to kick the habit it won’t take long at all.

 

 

*There are lots of different studies on this.  Many put the rate over 40%, while some are as low as 34%. I encourage the reader to do their own research on this if the exact rate is important to them.

**Lest I be thought hypocritical, I should mention that every few months when I’m out, I might split a cigarette with someone for a small rush. My doctor once told me this is an acceptable, “negligible” amount (it works out to 0.008 cigarettes daily). In contrast, daily smoking is not negligible.

The Cake Run

A curious phenomena occurs near the corner of calles Bandera and Catedral, in Santiago de Chile.

This historic street corner, dating back to the 1500s, and before that to the Incan Empire, has become the heart of Peruvian and Colombian Chile. These days, among the historic buildings and ancient streets are international call centers and money changers. Per minute rates to Peru, Colombia, Bolivia, and Brazil, and currency exchange rates are advertised everywhere. On the weekends and evenings, groups of immigrants gather waiting to call home. There are a few small grocery stores and a strange, dark mall called “Caracol Peruano” filled with travel agencies and hair salons. [It’s called caracol, which means “snail,” because the several floors of storefronts inside are on a gradually spiraling ramp, like the inside of a snail’s shell.] Further along calle Bandera are authentic Peruvian restaurants, used-clothing stores, and “café” strip clubs featuring Colombian women.

On Friday and Saturday summer nights the corner is lined with grocery cart food stands. Some with ceviche, raw fish and seafood cooked in acidic lemon juice, others outfitted with a small propane tank to cook fried chicken. Imagine a boiling vat of grease suspended next to a propane tank, plus a tray of crunchy, glistening chicken, all in a grocery cart; fried chicken on-wheels.

Here, in the shade of a construction site, women sell cake by the slice. The cakes are displayed on cloth-covered boards on upturned crates and boxes. There is always one big, round yellow bunt cake. It’s huge, with a diameter of at least 24 inches.  Sometimes there are huge tres leches and pineapple cakes, also sold by the slice. Calls of “torta rica, bizcocho, bizcocho” fill the air in one continuous, melodic intonation. The last “o” of bizcochoooooooo is drawn out, as if instead of selling cake they were calling the name of someone lost in a vast forest or perhaps lost among all the traffic and pedestrians.

It is here that some days, if you’re lucky, you’ll see the cake run.

One day you’ll be walking by, lost in thought, when suddenly, without warning, the melody will stop and women will pick up their large cakes and run.

Have you ever seen someone trying to sprint with a cake? It’s hilarious and nerve-wracking.

Five-feet tall with two-foot cake boards, the women quickly and nimbly navigate the crowded sidewalk while balancing the cakes. Their accomplices trail with their boxes and stools, tablecloths flapping. At a lookout’s signal they run to the nearest refuge, sometimes hiding in a call center phone booth, other times running a whole block to evade the police. Within moments no trace remains of their business.

It’s like some strange relay race game from the US, like running with an egg balanced on a spoon. The first time I saw the cake run they whipped past me from behind – four women silently competing in race with much more serious consequences than a broken egg. I nearly knocked over a cake, and was still wide-eyed as the next runner passed me carrying a chair and shouting an apology.

They run because selling food without a permit is illegal, and Santiago police focus a lot of effort on checking street vendor permits. [Aside: Targeting street vendors, who tend to be poor and/or immigrants seems like easy pickings, apparently unlike traffic violations such as blocking intersections… *hint hint* to all the Chilean police who read my blog.] After police pass, the women return from hiding, setup their boxes, and the lookouts are re-posted. The call is resumed, “torta rica, bizcocho bizcochooo.” They continue selling, ever-ready for the next cake run.

Oddities

An excerpt from a conversation with my Chilean family, while talking about their visit to Chinatown, NYC.

Them: “Remember when we saw them selling pig noses! That was so weird! A pig’s nose!”

Me: “You think it was weird that they were selling pig noses?”

Them: “Yes! You know, just the nose of the pig!!”

Me: “I understand, but why is that weird? I see entire pigs heads for sale here in Chile, all the time, including the noses!”

Them: “Yeah, selling a pig’s head is normal. But a pig’s nose? That’s weird.”

To “Go Gringo”

What would you think “the gringo way” means in Chile? Would you guess that it means not wearing any underwear?

One of the more mysterious phrases I hear in Chile is “andar a lo gringo” which is roughly, “to go the gringo way.” This common expression means to go without wearing any underwear, it’s what in the US we would call “going commando” or “free-balling.” I have no idea how this phrase came to be, but it is an odd thing to hear associated with my country.

This phrase leads to being asked some funny questions. Chileans want to know, “Do people go not wear their underwear a lot in the US?” “How often would you say people typically wear underwear?” Or my favorite, “Why don’t gringos wear underwear?”

See this for a great story about the phrase andar a lo gringo in action.

 

 

Pet-Peeve

One thing that totally grosses me out is that in Santiago, some parents allow and encourage their very young children [three years old and younger] to pee in the streets. It’s not uncommon to see a child complaining about having to go to the bathroom in a store and see the parent take them out, help them pull down their pants to squat or stand in a along a building on the sidewalk. Sometimes it’s on the trees in the city which is slightly better, but still freaks me out. I understand that these are very young children who probably have small bladders, and that allowing them to pee outside is probably part of their early toilet training process. But still, ew. Why not find a place that will let the kid use the bathroom?

Date Night in Santiago, Chile

Looking for a place to go for a date in Santiago? Here’s Carlos and my list of favorite dates and a window into our daily lives. We tend to prefer dates that are not far from where we live in the comuna Santiago Centro or Providencia and are not too expensive. We save the fancy restaurants for special occasions, and I’ll save them for a later post.

The Quintessential Inexpensive Romantic Date: If you’re looking for romance, nothing beats a quiet evening walk holding hands around the beautiful fountain at Plaza de la Aviación towards near metro station Salvador. The synchronized show of colored lights and jets is mesmerizing, and naturally lends itself to moments of contemplative, peaceful existence with your loved one or new date. Nearby, you can stop in for a coffee or desert at one of several cafés.

Art and Ice Cream Date: The Chilean National Museum of Fine Arts in Parque Forestal is a great place for an artsy date. There are always interesting exhibits, occasional events with live music, and admission is usually free or a very small fee (less than 1 USD). After visiting the museum, you can go to the nearby Rosa’s Emporium which has some of the creamiest, most delicious ice creams I’ve ever tasted.

Spicy-Like-Our-Love Date: Indian food at New Horizon near Santa Lucia is an inexpensive, delicious option for a date. The menu is limited, but everything on it is fantastic. The food can get spicy, but they are happy to accommodate mild palates, and the delicious mango lassi offsets the heat. It’s a good place to discuss sad topics; any wet eyes can easily be attributed to the spice! Most Indian options in Santiago are pretty expensive, and this is a tasty alternative. It’s a small place which draws a large crowd, so depending on when you go, there might be a wait.

The Go-To Date: One of our favorite places for a date in Santiago is the Peruvian D’leite Sanguchero, or as we like to call it, “Fake Súper Gordo.”  Súper Gordo is a more established restaurant nearby with similar dishes and much higher prices. At first, we considered it a knock-off of Súper Gordo, but now we vastly prefer D’leite as our go-to date restaurant. We’ve been there several times and have always received excellent service and really good food. They have two menus, a Peruvian-Chinese fusion menu and a classic Peruvian menu. We like their aji de gallina, ceviche, lomo saltado, and especially their Peruvian tallaríns saltados. A word of caution: a line does start to form late on weekends, mostly of Peruvians, which I think speaks to it’s popularity and authenticity.

The Weekend Warrior Date: By necessity, we tend to cram all of our grocery shopping to one marathon day on the weekends. We do our produce shopping at the sprawling, open air market La Vega, where we found a delicious Saturday or Sunday date gem. Luck Thai in La Vega Chica (local 199) is the perfect pre or post grocery shopping lunch. The portions are big enough that we leave with leftovers to get us through the weekend. Spaghetti Pad See-Eiw is our favorite dish, plus their magical fruit and herb juice blend that I think they just call “Thai juice.”

A Date for the Insatiable: When you are your partner are so hungry and in the mood for a burger, you should go to Donde Guidos. Imagine if there was a “Pimp my Ride” show for hamburgers… these hamburgers come with toppings like fried eggs, french fries, and your choice of delicious sauces. The flavors here are amazing, but be forewarned, this is not the kind of place you should take a first date if you think either of you might be self-conscious with messy food. These burgers are a force to be reckoned with, and here in Chile, are usually  dealt with with a fork and knife. This Peruvian sandwich place has several locations in El Centro, and will leave even the most insatiable very satisfied.

Brunch Date/Homesick Date: The Shamrock  near metro Salvador has English speaking employees, mimosas, and amazing American/English brunches. This is where I go when I am craving familiarity: waffles, pancakes, and waiters that speak English. It leads to conversations that only happen while living abroad like, “Oh you’re from Minnesota, I’m from New York! We have so much in common!” Their evening menu of craft foreign beers and juicy burgers is also fantastic. We love going there with a group of friends to watch non-Chilean sporting events, but their brunch is really what makes me feel at home.

Let’s Just Get a Drink Date – Bar the Clinic  in Bella Vista is the most obvious place in Santiago to just get a drink and talk. There is usually a groupon for two beers and some fries, which sometimes is all it takes to reconnect and hear your spouse tell you a crazy story you can’t believe you’ve never heard, like about that time he accidentally joined a cult. This place can get a bit crazy on weekends, so if you actually want to have a conversation there go on a weekday. Speaking a foreign language makes one extremely aware of which bars and restaurants are noisy.

The Stressful Day at Work Date: 2 pizzas + movie + cuddles = date night success. For this type of date, I wholeheartedly recommend Más Pizza. Their pizzas are excellent, we always choose the Española and the Ricotta Bacon. The main benefit of Más Pizza is that you can place the order online without having to talk to anyone on the phone, which still is not common in Santiago. As a gringa, there are just days where I don’t feel up to the challenge of talking on the phone in Spanish. I’m not sure what Carlos’ excuse is, but he prefers ordering online, too!

Girls Night Out Date: Bar Minga near Manuel Montt is my favorite place for getting a beer with my girlfriends. We usually split one of their thin crust pizzas and enjoy their very large schops and mojitos while catching up on each other’s lives. This would also be great for a date!

The Healthy Date: For the health-conscious couple, it doesn’t get better than lunch or dinner El Naturista! This vegetarian restaurant offers a wide array of healthy inspired options, from quiches, salads, and delicious soups. They also have a lot of creamy, cheesy options, but no meat. Their orange juice tastes like pure sunlight to me. Note that it’s only open for dinner on weekdays.

The Bright and Early Date: Sometimes, the only time you can find to go on a date is in the morning before work. Something about slowly waking up over a hot meal and starting the day together is just so romantic. The paila breakfast promotion at Domino is where I would take someone I liked before heading to work. For $2.500 you get a hot egg scramble with toast, fresh juice, and tea or coffee. They also make it to go, if you need to take one to work.

 

That’s all! I’ll try to add more as I think of them. Note: I’m not a reviewer, and I don’t receive any benefits from any of these restaurants for writing any of this this.

 

Didn’t Make the Cut:

La Mexicana is an excellent restaurant, but last I heard, they moved their location and haven’t reopened. We tried to go for Cinco de Mayo and they had a new location posted on their door. We went to that new location, but there wasn’t any restaurant there. I may add it later if we can ever find it again!

Bar Mamut. We used to stop into this chain weekly for happy hour and a long conversation, but they discontinued the best thing on their menu (nachos) and the last few times we went, service did not match their prices.

Wasabi, near Manuel Montt. This was our favorite sushi restaurant in Santiago for many months, we used to go there very frequently  until we became very, very ill after eating some bad tuna there. We both ended up in the hospital on IVs together. Suffering together was romantic, but ultimately expensive. Our friends still swear by it, so I am including it here but with a big BUYER BEWARE.

Too Much Sushi, in el centro. We like this sushi restaurant for ordering-in. After the Wasabi experience, we haven’t eaten any sushi, but this certainly gets honorable mention.

 

On Your Birthday in Chile

One thing I love about Chile is the long birthday hugs. In my experience in the US, when it is your birthday, one can reliably expect hugs from your family and close friends. In a professional context, you’re most likely to receive birthday wishes. “Happy Birthday!” “Thank you very much!” “What are your plans to celebrate?” It’s all very nice and pleasant and hopefully they take you out to lunch.

In 2014, I started working at a Chilean company. During my first month a young guy in the office had a birthday and I got a big surprise. Across the room, Carlos went to say, “happy birthday.” He gave him a hug, which didn’t seem odd, but as I watched, my surprise grew. Carlos gave him “several Mississippis” worth of pure man-love. I remember thinking, wow, how long will this hug go on for? and they are really closer that I thought! At first, I thought it might be a quirk of Carlos’ style of affectionate friendship, or a kind of joke. Maybe they were seeing how long they could keep the hug going without stopping.

Long hugs between heterosexual men are practically unheard of where I grew up in the northeastern United States. I struggle to think of any instances that I’ve seen, if at all, excluding every time that Carlos has hugged my male family members and I got to watch them squirm.

At work, I said feliz cumpleaños to the birthday guy and realized as he opened his arms that I was expected to greet or saludar him with a hug. We hugged, but I found myself pulling away from him automatically after one second. He was a friend, but my tolerance for hugs with a man who was not in my family nor involved with me romantically was very short. Not surprisingly, a wikihow article on “How to Hug a Girl” states that “embraces longer than a few seconds are meant for significant others or close family members” and recommend 1-2 seconds for casual hugging. Long hugs felt too intimate to me, as if hugging another man for too long was somehow committing an infidelity. Maybe if he was in the depths of sorrow it would feel right, but he wasn’t, and I felt uncomfortable. I quickly pulled away as he was still hugging me, and immediately felt guilty. He had expected a longer hug. I suddenly knew that Carlos’ hug was not a joke and that I was probably being rude, or at best cold and awkward. Now I understand that in Chile, you wouldn’t even hug your frenemy like that on their birthday!

During the day, everyone in the office stopped by to give the birthday guy a big, long hug, men included. I watched with fascination at my desk as a parade of men and women of all ages gave him firm embraces and enthusiastic congratulations. One by one, they congratulated him for living another year with the same level of gusto that I would expect if he had just announced the birth of his first child or as if he had just returned from several years at war. They enveloped him in love verbally and physically, so much that I started to wonder if he was especially beloved at the company. But, when the next birthday came, I realized that it was simply how things are done.

Now receiving and giving long hugs feel normal. A year and half later, I look forward to those birthday hugs. They’re one of the best parts of my birthday and other people’s birthdays. It’s my chance to show the people that I work with how much they mean to me and that I care about them. I give big, strong hugs with abandon, and my only complaint is that they don’t seem to last long enough.

Protest Nights

“Did you see that?” “What?” I pointed out the window as we left work.

Three police in full riot gear had just walked by. It was only 6:30, but all the shops had already closed hours early. The hatches were battened, metal protection covering every doorway and storefront. Near the fountain, about 15 police in full riot gear stood attentive, quietly chatting. It was eerily deserted, everyone who worked in our area had known to go home early. The few who remained rushed home before the storm.

I didn’t know there were going to be big protests today, but this morning I did notice the smell of tires burning and extra policemen stationed in pairs at strategic corners.

We met with lines of police the whole way home. They blocked our usual path and rerouted us, the red lights of one of their pockmarked armored vans illuminating the gray evening. It’s one thing to have a policeman give you a detour. It’s another to have that detour enforced with a long, stern-faced line of armor and fierce dogs. In a flash, I had the sick feeling of recognition, as if I was witnessing a ghost of the not too-distant past. People rushing to their homes before nightfall, the military in the street, the violence in the night. This is new to me, but Chile knows it well.

I’m safe, you know. I am so safe and cozy in our apartment, far above the Molotov cocktails, tear gas, and burning banks and pharmacies. We will get home early on protest nights, as if adhering to the curfew that hasn’t existed since the dictatorship. I will sit in pajamas, reading the live twitter feed of my city burning. It will just be a hassle to us, like subway construction or a traffic jam. But I know Chile is fighting for her future out there in the streets. In a place where people were afraid for a long time that they might say the wrong thing to the wrong person, now the students scream for change. They march for education, for social justice, economic equality and anarchy.

Chile has come a long way, but some nights those days don’t seem quite as far away at all.

Cable News Prude

When I used to hear people calling American “prudes,” I never put myself in that category, but then, one day I was watching the cable news at 8pm and it happened.

There. was. a. breast.

It was a story about mammograms and breast cancer, and there on my TV, was a breast and nipple. Not the image of the x-ray, not the breast squished between two panes of glass as I had seen at home, but a breast. Unblurred. Uncensored. Hanging out.

I couldn’t believe it. “Oh my god, did you see that?” I ask Carlos. “Yeah, so what?” he said laughing. “What’s weird about it?” He explained to me that he didn’t think it was strange or sexualized. They might as well have been showing a stomach, since it was in a health context.
“What if kids are watching?” “You think they haven’t seen them?” And if they hadn’t, watching this program, they probably wouldn’t learn to think it’s a big deal.

That got me wondering. I had only really seen breasts (with nipple) in the media in sexualized contexts. TV shows, movies, porn… but never on cable news. It was always censored in the non-sexual contexts.

Here, it’s okay to breastfeed just about anywhere. On the bus. Sitting along a road. At a fountain. Even in line for a roller-coaster, as we once saw. Kids and everyone else here seem to be exposed to breasts (and nipples) in non-sexual contexts. It seems paradoxical, considering the other ways that Chile can be conservative, but it’s okay to show a breast on cable news. They can be shown in more than just erotic contexts or museums. I find it reassuring that female bodies are not censored and that they are made visible outside the male gaze.