As I've spent some more time here in Chile and more of my American-ness is showing, I've realized just how different these two cultures are, but seeing these differences has been interesting and pretty hilarious.
I've learned that Chileans generally like Americans, and (usually) affectionately call us "gringos". Gringo food and really anything you thought you couldn't live without from the States can be found at the local equivalent of Wal-mart, which does in fact sell Great Value brand items. This made tonight's gringo dinner (homemade pizza that I made with my host sister Belen) possible. and delicious.
At first, I didn't like having a name applied to me that immediately fit me into a stereotype that I didn't want to continue, but as time has passed, I've realized that as much as I don't necessarily like it, I am in fact, a gringo. And, although my pride would argue, I think it's good that I've come to embrace my gringo identity. Here are a few examples:
- I take my shoes off when I come inside and my host family asks me repeatedly if my feet are cold. They're not, I respond many times, but apparently those responses do nothing to calm their worries, so I put my shoes back on in an attempt to change the topic of conversation. This is when I realized: only gringos take their shoes off inside in the winter. Of course.
- Similarly, only gringos frequently forget to bring their coat with them when they leave the house in June. Because they are still in "summer" mode. I mean really, it's supposed to be a sunny 85 degrees and humid. I'm still confused about why it's cold outside, and then I remember that I'm on a different hemisphere. Silly gringos, they don't even know what season it is.
- I drink water. I don't even drink enough water, but apparently Chileans are a different species of human and survive without drinking ANY. Tea, coffee, Coca-cola and sometimes super sugared-up juice. No water. ever. It's weird to drink water. and I've been SO THIRSTY. and confused. How is this possible?? Oh those gringos, when they come over to visit, they ask for water but I'm sure they're just being polite and don't want to ask us for a Coke. No really, I just want water, thanks.
- I don't prefer mayonnaise. But Chileans, oh they LOVE it. Mayo even has its' own spot between the aisles at the grocery store. Mayo goes on anything really; on toasted bread, on rice and potatoes, and on a specialty dish here called a "completo" which is a hot dog in a hot dog bun slathered in mayo, avocado, ketchup, mustard and tomatoes. Sounds interesting, huh? My host brother Lucas one night ate an entire completo and these things are literally as long as my forearm. Gringo hot dogs are boring in comparison, with just ketchup, mustard and sometimes relish. And they don't even know what relish is.
- And speaking of dogs, there are stray dogs everywhere here. They have overrun the city, and they sometimes steal food out of your grocery bag on your way home from the store, and bark incessantly at literally nothing at all. So to the rest of Quillota these dogs range from small annoyances to major inconveniences, but to me, a gringo, they're all abandoned, helpless victims who just want someone to love them. My heart nearly jumps out of my chest every time we're driving through the city and a dog moves out of the way at the very last possible second. This happens all too often. One day we were in Valpo, and I was petting a dog that I thought belonged to a shop owner, but I soon realized as we were walking away that the dog didn't belong to anyone, because it was following us as we walked further and further down the road. I think I said something like, "Aw, he just wants a friend." and my friend and co-intern Meredith, whose realistic point of view is quite juxtaposed to my emotional idealism said, "No, I'm pretty sure he just wants food." Yes, that's when I realized one of my most defining moments as a gringo: only way-too-compassionate gringos pet the dogs.
I am a gringo.
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