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.

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.

 

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.

The Weirdest Wedding Dress Shopping Experience that Simply Happened to Take Place in Chile…

But it probably could have happened anywhere else in the world… right?

My mom, my two sisters, and I decided to go wedding dress shopping together in Santiago. I did not have any expectation of finding a dress, but I wanted us to have the experience (and oh what an experience it was). Carlos and I are flying in shortly before the US wedding and we’re probably going to miss a lot of typical wedding things, like engagement parties and food tastings. That’s not a big deal to me, but I thought the ladies could have a little bit of wedding fun since we were all together for once.

I did not have high expectations but I kept an open mind. I knew Chilean dresses are generally not my style (more princess than elegant) and generally low quality for a lot of money, relative to NY. But, with the wedding less than 9 months away, I certainly wouldn’t have said “no” to a Chilean dress I liked.

I had read on a gringa blog that she thought Punto Clave made the best dresses in Chile. We went to the one in el Centro, because it was close and I didn’t want to trek out to Las Condes for cuico price markup. Maybe that was my first mistake.

We entered the shop. I approached a sales lady and asked if we needed a reservation to try on wedding dresses. No, you can do it now, but she looked annoyed. She told me I could look through the catalog and pick them out. The catalog was surprisingly short. We had fun looking through the dress pictures, which by the hairstyles looked to be from 2001. Very few appealed to me, but I chose three or four to try on.

She told me, “Look, I don’t have that one in stock, but I have one similar.” Okay. At least it’s a starting point.

She asked me casually when the wedding was. “August” I replied.

“Oh you still have tons of time, you’re really early” she said with raised eyebrows. I had a feeling the question was not so offhanded. My heart sank. She didn’t think this was serious. Who possibly shops for a wedding dress seriously 9 months in advance? I made sure my diamond ring was showing.

I gently said, “Actually, in the US where we’re from, I’m very behind.” She was unconvinced. She was the epitome of the Chilean phrase mala onda or bad vibes. Other people we talked to along the way, like a wedding planner we met, tried to address my mom about the wedding instead of me. I remembered that a lot Chileans don’t really consider me an adult or the possibility that I could be running my own show, even at 25.

This all seemed to go along with the strange creeping suspicion that a lot Chileans don’t take Carlos and my engagement seriously, which I think has to do with the prevalence of promise rings and since we weren’t together for 5+ years before getting engaged. There’s a world of difference between a polola (girlfriend) and novia (fiance) in my mind (e.g. one of those you’ve asked to spend your whole life with you) but they seem to conflate the two, especially when they’ve been with their boyfriend or girlfriends longer than I’ve been with Carlos.

The sales lady brought us into a cold, large, curtained off section of a room that was filled with huge mirrors. There was a bench for my family to sit on. She brought a very worn, graying dress that, in my mother’s words, she “wouldn’t even buy at a secondhand shop.”

“Take off your clothes” she told me brusquely. She used the imperative form of the very take off. Chileans use this all the time without it being rude, but in the context of taking off my clothing, I was acutely aware of the fact that it was an order.

My eyes widened. It was clear she meant then and there. This lady was ordering me to strip in front of my modest family and her in this large room, surrounded by mirrors. I don’t remember ever having much modesty myself; a combination of proactive self-love and luck has made me comfortable in my skin, but at that moment I was embarrassed. It was just so unexpected! Well, here we go. This is happening. My family, who didn’t understand the sales lady, were not ready to see me drop my shorts and giggled and exclaimed, “oh, you’re changing here?!” I stood pale under the fluorescent lights in my bra and panties, so glad that I had the good sense to wear conservative underwear. Not to be overly dramatic since I chose to undress voluntarily, but I suddenly gained insight into why nudity is used by oppressors as a tool of subjugation.

I tried on the Miss. Havisham dress, and we pointed out it’s positive aspects. It looked nice, and reminded me of a 1890s saloon girl costume.  It was heavy, but the tulle felt cheap. I swished around a bit, thanked her, and asked about the next dress.

“You can only try on one dress unless you put a deposit down to show us that you’re going to buy a dress from us.”

I couldn’t believe it. I even asked again later to make sure I heard her right. Yep. They require a large deposit indicating that you are actually going to buy a dress in order to even try on the second dress.

How ridiculous. Then, she told me the price of that dress, $1400 dollars. That could just be the gringa price, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they were charging Chileans $1000 for what should be a $200 dress when it’s new. You’ve got to be kidding me, lady.

We left laughing. I understand that the store is not in a nice area of town and that they probably get ladies trying on dresses without serious marriage plans, but it was still so preposterous. The next place we went to was on the same block and treated us better so I don’t think location is much of an excuse.

The next place we went to, Casa Blanca, was lovely and more of what I would guess is a typical wedding dress shopping experience. We had three gracious, fawning attendants who helped me into each dress, pinned and unpinned the bustle, brought me a pair of heels to use, searched the warehouse for dresses my size (as many as I wanted!), guarded my modesty, and offered sage advice. The bar had been lowered considerably by the previous place, but the Casa Blanca staff definitely exceeded my expectations. The lady at Casa Blanca told me that Chilean ladies are just as modest trying on dresses as I was, if not more, which made me feel like the other lady’s order to strip was absolutely not “just a Chilean thing.” In the end, the nicest, dress I tried on with an 8 foot train and intricate detail work was quoted at $1000, which further reinforces the idea that Punto Clave in el Centro is simply insane.

Overall, our wedding dress trip was a resounding success. My mom and sisters got to see me in several dresses and give input. I got a better idea of what I like and don’t like and got to have a little taste of wedding magic. It was everything I had hoped for, plus, we had an experience that we won’t forget soon.

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Bag of Bichos

One thing I was not prepared for living in Chile is getting sick more frequently and for longer periods of time. When I moved here, suddenly my immune system was exposed to a totally foreign set of bugs. Plus, I’m living in a densely populated city and every acquaintance greets me with kisses, even when they are sick. In general, there isn’t the same obsession with sanitation. For all the bad things the US has inherited from its puritanical roots, “cleanliness is godliness” is not the worst.

This year I had 30+ straight days of terrible diarrhea and I lost 15 pounds, which antibiotics eventually cleared up. And for most of my months here, I’ve been sick at least 5 days out of 30, usually with colds, but most recently with flu-like symptoms.  I get more sleep compared to when I was simultaneously teaching, researching, and taking classes in the US and my stress is generally lower. Yet, here I am, congested and nauseous.

Carlos has also been sick with greater intensity and more frequently this year, which makes me think that it’s not just the fault of my untrained immune system (unless I’m sort of an incubator and subsequently contaminate him, like a kindergartener). Perhaps his became untrained in those cushy years abroad. Or we’ve just been unlucky this year.

We’ve both lost weight, but I wouldn’t say we’re necessarily healthier. In general, our energy levels are lower in a way too drastic to attribute to being just another year older. Either way, we’ve been more susceptible to illness and it has made for a lot of The West Wing episodes on the couch, ibuprofen, and missing parties. Ugh.

Tampons in Chile

I always keep a 6 month supply of tampons in the house (you know, for the periodocalypse) and when we moved to Chile, I packed all of them since they were light.

About 6 months into my stay in Chile, I ran out.

I tried finding them in my local bargain grocery store (kinda like ALDI’s). Nada. That was surprising, but I didn’t think much of it since it is a discount store and it doesn’t carry a lot of products. I went to the more expensive grocery store nearby but still couldn’t find them.

Next month we were in Lider, which was recently acquired by Wal-Mart. The most economic package of tampons they carry was $4.15 USD for 8 tampons! What?! I looked at the other, most cuica (white and rich) grocery store prices, and they weren’t any better! That’s more than 50 cents a tampon! The nice tampons are about 25 cents at Target in the US, and generic ones go for 12 cents or less.

I should have sold the ones I brought with me on the street! Or at least savored them while they lasted.

What gives?* How could such a basic necessity for women be so costly? Pads are not so expensive here, and so I began to wonder if tampons are commonly used here.

I’ve asked several women about their tampon use and several men about all the present and past women in their lives, and the consensus seems to be that they don’t use them. I found one person who uses them infrequently and she told me a German girl taught her how. After that, she taught one of her friends.

So why are the Chilean ladies not wearing all white and sitting on white furniture, doing yoga in perfectly coordinated gym clothes, and spinning in a field full of sunflowers like in all the tampon ads? One friend said women simply can’t swim here during ‘shark week’ which seems a shame.

I imagine that they just never caught on. Perhaps tampon commercials never flooded the airwaves and tampax never handed them out in pretty puberty packages to every 5th grader. Perhaps yet another vestige of conservatism is preventing their use, like hymen hype? Maybe they’re expensive because they’re a prestige item now, like Victoria Secret and Armani. That’s not even a joke; because of the classism, status symbols are powerful in Chile.

Supply and demand is starting to seem like a chicken and the egg problem here. There’s not much supply shipped in because there’s not much demand… but there’s not much demand because they’re so expensive… and they’re so expensive because there’s not much shipped in… I’m not entirely sure they would become popular if the prices were dropped.  It’s obviously a complex problem.

Either way, when in Rome…

 

 

If you’re a Chilean and you use tampons, I want to know in the comments! If you don’t, why not?

If you’re a Chilean economist, I’d love to hear your take on this!

*Carlos suggested that instead of ‘why do Chilean women not use tampons’ I could also write about ‘why US women use so many tampons’ to remind me that I should absolutely be wary of any Righteous Tampon Imperialism and treating my way of life as normative. That’s spot-on, and I hope that anyone reading this understands that while I personally see not having cheap access to tampons as limiting, I can get why any woman, regardless of her nationality, might not want to stick a foreign object inside of her. [Insert joke about dating foreign men.] More worrisome is when women are taught that their value is in their virginity, or through lack of education or autonomy, they don’t feel comfortable enough with their own bodies to insert a tampon. I have no reason to think that either of those are the case here. The lack of tampons could have less to do with the conservative culture and more to do with the shipping costs.

Conspiracy in the Taxi! A ramble.

My friend and I were on our way from the symphony in Providencia to Ñuñoa to get some french fries. Chileans do french fries right, like unbelievably right.They make the Burger King vs. McDonalds french fry debate seem so irrelevant. Maybe right now you’re imagining a packet of french fries from one of those. In your mind, pour those out on a plate. Now imagine they’re bigger and plumper. Longer. Tastier. Look at that plate, and now imagine the plate is much bigger; an oblong platter. That whole plate is covered in big fries. Half of a Chilean french fry dish is more than enough for dinner. Now imagine that plate of steaming fries is covered with a mountain of steak, onions, and an over-easy eggs. Or chicken and salsa. Or ground beef and cheese. In Chile, everything is a valid french fry topping. This story isn’t even about french fries, but it should be, because the Chilean fries are fantastic.

We were on our way to get fries after the disappointing absence of cocktails at the symphony. We were told there would be cocktails! It was Beethoven’s ninth in it’s entirety, which was absolutely wonderful. It had been ages since I’d seen a symphony, and it was so fascinating to hear Ode to Joy in it’s proper context, you know, outside of children’s piano recitals. The Universidad de Chile musicians were exceptional and I was transported for the evening. I was so grateful to get to enjoy it, but I was also very hungry. We wandered around the theater’s museum, waiting for the cocktails to be served. I even got my nails done in anticipation for the chic cocktail party, my first manicure since coming here. One of the manicurists was a Dominican man who told me how Chileans aren’t really part of South America or Latino, but rather European. You don’t have to tell me! He thinks gringos in North Carolina can dance better than Chileans. Well, I don’t know about that.

The theater was at the police academy and they had a collection of police hats from all over the world, which was neat. Although, it would be even neater if some Chilean museum curator had to travel the world and steal each the hats from an officer’s head. Young, clean cut police students in full regalia wandered around like Rolfe from Sound of Music, like 18 years old, idealistic, and I assume very honorable. Chilians are proud of the integrity of their police force. Bribes will get you absolutely nowhere, which is a shame when the cocktails never come and you’d really like the police to do something about it.

So after taking some photos of the pope-mobile that The Pope used when he visited, we headed out to nurse our disappointment about the cocktails. Later, my friend would explain to me the meaning of the phrase pasto seco literally “dry grass” which can mean someone who can learn anything, even how to “make fire from water.” It also has the connotation of being down for anything, without hesitation. As soon as someone makes a suggestion, a pasto seco says, “yeah, let’s do it, let’s go.”She said it was applicable to me because I was down to go get dinner together without a second thought. Really I was just hungry. When someone says, “do you want to go get french fries” in Chile, you’d be insane to say no.

We hopped into a taxi and set off. Two different cell phones on the taxi driver’s dashboard were open to two different taxi apps. The notifications sounded like someone yelling for a taxi, “taxi! taxi! taxi!” as if lots of potential passengers were in the car with us. Things got interesting when he started to ask if I was from a different country.

After hearing I was from the U.S., he asked, “You don’t work for Monsanto, do you?”

“uhhh no, I’m just here because I have a Chilean fiance” (usually, this is the point where people ask me what do I like or prefer about Chilean men in general, which is awkward since I am only romantic with one Chilean man. It’s not like I dated a representative sample beforehand. I just describe what I like about Carlos, which are traits that I would like in a man of any nationality and that I don’t think make him particularly Chilean or not Chilean. Then I make a joke about mother-in-laws to divert the conversation, since that’s a favorite joke here, even though my mother-in-law is wonderful and not at all like the negative stereotype.)

The taxi driver says there are gringos here working for Monsanto, and I agree with him that it’s a bad company, and I tell him I have noticed the Chilean protests against Monsanto. This sympathy only encourages him.

There’s something I have to show you, he says. He whips out an iPad and pulls up a youtube video. All this while driving through traffic and the two cell phones are incessantly yelling “taxi!” I hear a voice begin to dramatically describe 9-11. Footage of the twin towers plays on his steering wheel. I begin to giggle a bit, oh here we go. Whenever a Chilean brings up September 11th to me, it seems a bit absurd. But it got better… It was a conspiracy video. The driver told us that he showed it to another gringo who had no idea that his own government had blown up the towers. Well, maybe they did blow them up, and maybe they didn’t, but I wasn’t really in a good position to judge the merit of the video on a five minute taxi ride (but look at all the architects who agree! He insisted, fast forwarding to the list of names with “Architect” next to them.) If not for my friend’s warning he would have hit a cyclist, since he was driving with the iPad on the wheel.

We arrived at our destination as he was expounding on the evil of all governments. Being a taxi driver is a bit like being a dentist because people can’t get away when you start talking to them. At least he was careful to differentiate between a people and their government, a distinction I think is pretty generous when officials are elected. One of the most ridiculous parts of being an expat here is the people who are really eager to tell you all about the country you’ve lived in all your life, especially when they’ve never visited it, or perhaps seen it once. That and how good the french fries are. 😉

Gluten-Free in Santiago de Chile, the beginning.

I was recently told I need to be gluten-free while living in Chile and I’ve never been gluten-free anywhere else. It’s not like I arrived with a set of avoiding-gluten skills.

I should also preface this by saying my partner and I have a strict budget and a saving goal that amounts to 60% of the income. We live well within our means because 1) It’s a fun real-life game and 2) We want to buy a house in the near future and 3) We are probably going to have two weddings, one in Chile and one in the U.S. So, my gluten-free options have to fit within that budget. I’m slowly compiling a list of where to buy different gluten-free products in Santiago, [relatively] inexpensively.

The grocery store we usually shop at (Mayorista) specializes in bulk, non-perishables. There are about zero gluten-free options, except the things that are naturally without gluten (rice, corn cereal, etc). This is the place to get 16 packages of ramen, or 2 months worth of milk, or 16 chicken patties. We buy everything we need here that isn’t vegetables and fruit, but there aren’t any specialty products. They don’t even carry tampons.

Everyone told us, “go to Jumbo” which is a grocery store that closely resembles U.S. grocery stores. Everyone told us how they have a whole gluten-free isle. So we made the 30 minute subway ride to check it out. The one we went to, in Costanera Center, did have a gluten free isle, but it was very short and disappointing. [That’s what she said.] We were told the Jumbo located deeper into Los Condes might have more options, but it’s even further away from us. We could also try the one in Ñuñoa, but I don’t think we’ll have much reason to return since the prices are the same in every location.

It. was. absolutely. ridiculous. We were warned by a friend that her Celiac Chilean boyfriend spends 80% more money on food, and now we know why.

Small loaf of gluten free bread: $8 (4.000). Kilo bag of Quinoa $25 (13.978). I picked up a box of cookies that looked good, priced at $6 (3.090) and realized judging from the weight of the box, there were probably only 5 small cookies in there! And so on.

We ended up buying a 100g of corn cereal (Natur Maiz) for $1.30 (700), 200g of Natur Arroz $2.20 (1.200). None of the boxed, name-brand cereal they carried was gluten free. I also bought 4 pieces of rice-based Hallulla bread for $3 (1.700) the pieces were at least 50% smaller than regular hallullas, but they were nice  fresh out of the oven. I picked up some small pre-cooked gluten-free pizza crusts for the $3 (1.600) but I haven’t tried them yet.  In Jumbo, we bought half a kilo of rice flour for $3.50 (1.980) and 375g of rice noodles (hilariously named “Cock Rice Sticks”) for $2.50 (1.400).

Where you can buy those items for less:

Quinoa is sold, at its cheapest, for $9 (5.000) a kilo in La Vega. Duh. You might have to hunt around, but at least 2 of the places we saw had it at this price.

Mayorista sells Natur Maiz and Natur Arroz cereal for about 20-50 pesos less than Jumbo. Not a huge savings, but if you’re in Mayorista anyway, look out for them.

There’s a granary in Santiago Centro called Granero Goloso where we found rice flour for $2.70 (1.490) a kilo (note that HALF that quantity cost $3.50 in Jumbo). The granary also sells a nice mix of 3 gluten-free flours (mezcla 3 harinas) for $3.50 (1.990). Friday we made some really good banana bread using the mix of the 3 flours, which didn’t even last until Sunday in our house! The granary also carries several other types of flour and ready-to-go bread mix. They beat Jumbo by a long-shot, not that it’s particularly hard to do! They also carry gluten-free cereal bars and cookies, but I didn’t look on the prices because I’m going to focus on making my own.

Rice noodles can be bought in any of the numerous Chinese food stores in the area (on Rosas between Bandera and Puente, and over on Monjitas, they’re all over the place). The cock rice sticks were good, but they sell for closer to a luca in this area.

This list is probably not surprising to anyone living in Santiago, but I imagine someone staying here a short time might not realize the vast chasm in prices (I knew there would a difference, but not like this). And since several people pointed us in the direction of Jumbo, I wanted to put some alternatives out there.

Erica and her Naïveté

“Do you have any idea why Chilean people would think every gringa is named, ‘Erica?’ Like is there some cultural thing where they think ‘Erica’ is the most popular name for white women or something?”

He laughs, “No, why?”

“Well people on the street sometimes yell that at me, and I’m not sure why. At first I thought they might be referring to the city, ‘Arica’ but that doesn’t make sense, either. The emphasis is different and why would they yell about Arica? It’s not like the people are whiter or blonder there. Does “ayyreeca” mean anything to you?”

“Yeah, it does. Oye…rica.” [hey sexy]

“Ohhhhhhh. Oh. Well. Now I feel dumb for not realizing that.”

“Who yells that at you?”

“Collectivo drivers waiting for customers.”

Ya cállense weones.