Sometimes Chileans do weird things

Like using hand soap in the shower- slightly annoying. There is never hand soap by the sink because people (obviously Mama or Camila or all of the above) keep putting it back in the shower. It's like a typical gel/liquid pump of hand soap too, not the kind I would imagine is the best to bathe with..To each his own. While I'm at it- I may as well mention that there is also no hand towel- perhaps because they never really have to use the bathroom and thus wash their hands in this bathroom....but for Ms. I have to pee every hour it is quite the problem.
Numero Dos= the other day when I was on the bus I saw a middle aged lady across the aisle putting on her makeup on the bus- no of course that's not the weird thing- the weird thing was that she was curling her eyelashes- with a SPOON. I kid you not. Half the time I see things in public I have to remind myself that although study abroad has been like a dream, I am in fact awake- like when I saw a mother holding her kid (maybe 2 years old) over the grass on the side of the sidewalk so that she could pee on the grass. I actually saw this on two occasions so I would say it's safe to say that this was not a one time thing.
Numero Tres= Chileans do strange things with their dranks, like mixing white wine, grenadine, pisco (Chilean brandy) and PINEAPPLE ICE CREAM all in one drink. And they call it a terremoto. Come on mis amigos- what does that one mean? They literally have created a drink and named it after a natural disaster that ceases to evade their land- an earthquake. It is named with good reason- these tragos (chilean word for drank) are damn strong. Actually let's be real- all of the drinks made here are much stronger. When you order at the bar they make the drink in front of you and I always just watch them pour pisco straight out of the bottle for a good 10 seconds- I'm talking like maybe 2+ shots in every standard drink. And drinks aren't even that expensive. In fact you don't want to know how much I paid for my very first terremoto at the Universidad de Chile party I somehow found myself in the midst of this last friday- A dollar and a quarter. A US DOLLAR and a quarter. It is wasn't half bad! The key is to mix the pineapple ice cream in real good so that you can't taste the cheap white wine. 
Let's back it up a little bit and lemme give you the low down on how I ended up imprisoned in the courtyard of the Law School of Universidad de Chile. 
It all started when I made an executive decision to get to know my U.Chile mentor a little better since I have a plane ticket and plans to visit her in two weeks. So when she invited me to go to a carrete with her- she conveyed this as being a casual, "I'll probably just have one beer with my friends and then leave" type party- of course I said yes. I mean why not pre-game the birthday party I was going to hit up later. Yes parents and family. I did just say pre-game. Sorry if that is too much- but the best stories are likely to come from my experiences in Chile when I am potentially have a blood alcohol level of slightly higher than 0.0 (only slightly!) Anywho- I invited Hannah to come with me because when you get invited to a Chilean event you typically need backup- a small talk buddy, escape buddy or a "what the heck did that Chilean just say to me" buddy. 

We were smiling before we discovered we were being held prisoner...

Once again Hannah had the brains to document this experience and thus I stole her pics- again

We met up with Andrea at a metro stop near the law school and walked over with her friends to wait in line for this shin-dig. Um what did I get myself into? There's a line and a cover....alright. 

There was an entire courtyard filled with Chileans, booze, cigarettes and great music. While I could done without the smokers- seriously Chile, have you heard of lung cancer? Every 16 year old and their mother smokes in this country (but actually)- in no time everyone was dancing. Andrea asked me if we have parties like this in the US. lolz- no Andrea, our universities don't sponsor parties every friday (apparently there is a carrete at one facultad or another just about every single friday) where students bring in alcohol, dance in the courtyard to a DJ and sell their own mixed drinks, tequila or jello shots for dirt cheap. Nah- that doesn't really happen that often at Tulane.

Hannah and I had our terremotos, took a jello shot and got enough pisco sour spilled on us that we determined it was time to peace out. Funny story. I never thought exiting a crowded party would be something that a security guard would try to prevent. Apparently there were so many people outside of the gates trying to get into this party that they were afraid if they opened the gates to let those of us who wanted to leave, then all the stranglers would rush in. It only took 30 minutes, a desperate search for another exit and some girl's temper tantrum (she screamed and jumped up and down a couple of times saying that she needed to be let out AHORA) before the guards agreed to raise the metal garage door "only a meter! only open it one meter high". We all darted out and claimed our sweet victory. And that is the story of how I escaped La Chile Party Prison. 

When you have 20 minutes to kill while the guards decide if they want to let you out....you take selfies

Not a happy camper

I returned home, sobered up (not that I was drunk- I merely think it is quite funny that I sobered up in between parties, I think that is the first time I have rallied after one event involving alcohol and moving on to the next) ate some pasta, and google mapped how to get to my friend's birthday party. One bus, three metro stops and 25 minutes of walking around being lost, Hannah, Andrea and I finally found the apartment. 

Can you guess which one is which?

I had a great time talking to my Costa Rican friend (I met him a Mier-Po) and his Argentinean friend that tagged along. The best was that his friend Nicolas had a Scottish accent (He took english class in Argentina that were taught by Scottish teachers or something like that). I will admit we talked almost exclusively in english but they insisted that it was just faster that way. While some people insist that their spanish improves when they are drunk- I beg to differ. 

Until next time loves

xoxo.

Schenanigans

this is an old pic- and unrelated to this post but my blog has been lacking photos...and I still am not done going through mine...

So today we got our grades for Ceramics class. It went a little something like this...we all set our ceramic plate pieces that we have been working on the whole semester (remember that we had to make clay at the beginning- so at this point I had made and painted 5 plates) on the table in front of us and then the professor (old man with missing teeth- i noticed that one today...) and the TA (overly peppy assistant who is always drinking coffee and eating some sort of cookie- no joke, once she told us she would teach us but first she had to go buy a cookie) walked around with a nice little official grade book and evaluated everyone's work. Now this may sound all scary and formal and all but let's be real- this is an art class. And we all know that artists are mostly chill. Thank goodness that sentiment carried over when it came to my grade because I don't know what I would do if I had to come back to Tulane with a failing grade in Intro to Ceramics...
The profe (so much more fun to say than professor- sometimes I even hear chileans address them this way!) walks over, takes a look at my work and says something along the lines of what the TA had told me last week. Not bad. "Too much color on this one" (apparently this isn't a painting class and therefore if you use too much color it subtracts from the beauty of the ceramic piece- this was roughly translated from spanish so I could be entirely off track) "This one would be great if you don't look at this part" (she then proceeds to cover 60% of the plate) "and this one, well, if you were an art student I would have to give you a 3" alright. Good thing he then proceeded to ask me if I was an art student and I responded with a shorten summary of how I am a pre-med student. While this is irrelevant to the story- it is always difficult to explain to people the fact that I am in a university and I will be going to med school after, because here they go directly into med school after high school. That's right- your doctor here could potentially be 25. Oye. 
Back to the story- the long and the short of is it that out of my 5 plates they said they kinda sorta liked one of them and therefore I could receive the gringo grade of 6.0 which about the equivalent of a B+ I think. All I know is that it is passing and coincidentally it was also the exact same number that the TA had written next to every single other student they had evaluated. Classic. Perhaps in art we are all equals(:
In other news today I had my first class at U Chile in over a month. And while I  felt slightly overwhelmed at the fact that I now have 14 hours of class a week instead of 11, I managed to get my things together and carry on. Even if it meant sitting through class during dinner time- what a drag.
In my indoor cycling class I was forced to interact with my fellow Chileans and thus I promptly looked for an approachable looking face- this only took about oh maybe 45 seconds (these girls are intimidating!)- luckily by this time the kid still didn't have a partner. Maybe it was because the first thing he said to me when I walked up to him was "ARE YOU A FOREIGN STUDENT?" yay for Chilean social skills- always forward and never considerate. Luckily for him, he had gorgeous blue eyes and it wasn't the first time I had been asked that blatantly obvious question. We chatted for a bit but then the conversation ended when I exhausted all of my go-to spanish questions like "where are you from," "what are you studying" and so forth. The thing is after you ask those and then answer a multitude of questions about how you like Chile and how long you've been here....I just can't think of much else that I could respond to with my spanish vocabulary. Okay that's a lie but really, when you try to explain complicated things in spanish the conversation just becomes broken and awkward. 
Maybe that's why Mama and Camila never invite me to their early morning breakfast chats over a nice little tray of fresh food that Mama brings up to the bedroom every morning. Yuup. hold the phone, because I have a little something to say about this royal treatment and the step sister that just happens to live one room over. (cough- ME!). While I totally understand that I am just one of the MANY (I think I'm number 13, going on 14) host students that this family will have. In fact, we come so frequently that there will only be a week- seven days people- in between when I leave and the next one arrives. However, this fact doesn't make me feel less jealous to see Camila get the true mother-daughter treatment. I feel slightly jipped and would love to have a fresh tray of toast with avocado or scrambled eggs brought up to my room when I have to wake up at 6:45 two days a week. They just sit in Mama's room with their hot tea, nice breakfast and chat while I'm in the bathroom (literally less than a foot away) brushing my teeth and trying to see through my squinty eyes (the bathroom light is so bright!) so that I can put on some makeup and get outta that place. And so I ignore the delicious aroma of freshly toasted bread, forget the fact that the families receive 500 dollars a month to feed us and truck along down the stairs to grab my lunch. What's that there on the stovetop for Camila? Her freshly made lunch! Mama has stopped asking me recently if I even need a lunch anymore- yet she wakes up at the crack of dawn to make Camila new food (no leftovers for Princess) and half the time Camila "forgets" her lunch (I'm pretty sure she much prefers to buy lunch). All things considered, this day in particular does not make a strong arguing point for me because she had made Camila a lunch of boiled corn, a frozen hamburger patty (obviously that she cooked it, but the adjective 'frozen' may give you some insight as to what these lovely pieces of meat taste like...mmm fat) and some mayo. Alright Alright, I'll shut my mouth and put some pasta with meat sauce in my own darn tupperware...
One last thought- something I actually meant to include in my Valpo/Viña recap is the interesting fact that our ceviche contained a seemingly new and exotic type of seafood. After trying it and then googling it when I got home I found out that it was actually just a sea scallop, but the reason it looked so exotic is because in other countries (the US just likes to do things their way- cough, metric system, cough annoying) when you shuck sea scallops you leave the roe attached to the white part that we all know and love. Now this was not the best thing I've ever ate but it was interesting to try and the article I found via google says that it's the part of the scallop that is rich in Omega 3's (yay for health). 

exotic no?

Well that's all for now- I'm off to take a lukewarm and semi-enjoyable shower. The hot water here is no longer hot, and I'm really hoping it doesn't get worse than this when it gets colder...

Even though I'm sure the Patagonia Pictures > Blog Post...

Dude- 900 is a big number. It's close to one thousand. And very overwhelming, especially when most of the pictures are essentially the same scenery, taken just about 100 feet later, after a single wispy cloud passed or upon rotating 20º. When I write this out it just seems quite absurd, but the reality is- I haven't posted my pictures from Patagonia because its an overwhelming task! Apologies. They will come with time(:
In the meantime I booked a plane ticket (I'm sensing that an expensive habit is forming....) to visit my mentor in the South- coincidentally near where the volcano erupted...but her house is fine! It actually erupted a third time on Thursday but there have been no deaths which is good. My Wednesday started out after I arrived to ceramics at around 9:30, thinking I was late- and ended up being the third person to arrive- this class's start time appears to be pushed back week after week (My theory is that it's because Chileans just can't get out of bed in the 'cold'- I'm telling you when I was walking to class that day, it was MAYBE 50 degrees and I passed a woman with a puffy jacket, boots and a scarf! In comparison, I was wearing a long sleeved shirt and jeans with my birkenstocks and socks..). So here's the funny part of the story: when I get my ceramic plates that had been put in the kiln, the TA comes over (now when I saw TA, don't envision a young grad art student- instead picture a short, overly animated, middle aged woman) and points at my little triangle tile with a turtle. To say I was proud of this little guy would be an understatement. She points to it and says "No malhecho// Not poorly done" Now it this cross roads in my life I can interpret this one of two ways. 1 would be that she is saying "that's not bad- its actually pretty good- wow Carly you are a champ" or 2 she could/probably is saying "That's not poorly done, but you I think you still have some work to do". She went on to inform Hannah and I that gringos for some weird reason always use a lot of color...as if it was a bad thing- so there goes my general knowledge and thinking I had a vagueish idea of what the professor (who is a balding, soft spoken and seemingly 'wise' old man) and his peppy TA are looking for....so how do grades work again??
That night had a great time at Miercoles Po'- the gringa fiesta that goes on every Wednesday at a different club in Santiago. It's crazy- there is an actual Miercoles Po Ltd. company that runs the show and I am sure they are making BANK. These clubs are always full and it is always a great time. The kicker is that Chileans have to pay a cover to get in (and I heard it's really pricey) while extranjeros walk in for free. Anywho- my friends and i enjoyed that one, and luckily I don't have class until 2:00 on thursday so I can sleep in the next day- which is important because as you should know by now- Chileans start the party around midnight, usually a little later..
On Friday my friend Emily and I ventured out to Viña del Mar, a short bus ride (maybe a little over 1.5 hours) to a beautiful port of Chile that attracts quite a bit of tourism, but is nevertheless full of culture and delicious seafood! It has a 'twin city' named Valparaiso which is about a 10 minute bus ride along the coast, so we were sure to visit this gem as well. Emily had been there before, so fortunately I just let her guide me around town, merely requesting that we eat seafood and get ice cream at some point(: What else is new- food=priorities. 

My partner in crime with her ice cream(:

We started our adventure by setting up camp at a hostel called the Garden Street Hostel which is an adorable little nook of a building that has a courtyard overflowing with flowers, herbs and green plants. We left our bags in cubbies, picked a nice looking bunk bed and headed to a fabulous Italian restaurant that the desk attendant helped us make a reservation for. We were greeted by a nice looking maitre d' (yes that is the second time I have googled to fact check my writing :P) who showed us to our table with a view, right by the window. It appeared that we were the sole patrons in the dining room, but that only helped our cause. After asking a million questions- as I never have any idea what chilean words for food are because there are so many variations- I attempted to order some fish with veggies on the side. In the meantime they brought us chicken pate, some sort of caviar (I think he said octopus but who knows) and smoked salmon tapas. I felt like I was moving up in the world at this point. They brought our plates out and I died. My order was surprisingly representative of what I had imagined (this often is NOT the case, ie: that one time we dined out with the program and they said "salmon" was one of the options- people thought they were getting fish- but in fact, salmon ended up being some a chilean meatloaf-esque dish with a random hard boiled egg in the center- I don't even know). Anywho- it appears that the fish I ordered, Corvina, is actually often translated to Chilean Sea Bass in english (I'm guily of a third google search there...). SO GOOD. It's crazy how when you get a dish like the one I ordered that day, how much more special it is here. You grow used to the underseasoned soups, rice and iceburg lettuce salads that when you are presented with a nice piece of fish and some fresh veggies (which could be an absolute norm in the US), every bite is a delicacy. 

After lunch we perused the boardwalk, sat down and read by the ocean, got some ice cream (chocolate almond and mokka) and then watched the sunset we decided that our previous notion of cooking dinner to save money was realistically not gonna happen- because let's be real- treat yo self. it's important. 

We walked around and stumbled upon a Peruvian restaurant that Emily had been to before (I guess its kinda like a Chilean chain restaurant or something). We split a mixed seafood ceviche with scallops, calamari, salmon and octopus and then some Congrio (Chile's most popular and notorious fish) that was bathed in a creamy cilantro sauce. Lol yes it was bathed- that's what the menu said! "congrio baño en la salsa"
Now get this- the didn't bring us any bread. The horror. Somehow we evaded bread during a meal in a Chilean restaurant. Do you know what happens when this goes down? You actually feel kinda hungry after dinner- and everyone should know by now where that leads us....ice cream. duh. Two times, one day- that is a record right there. Imma have to start having breakfast dessert if I wanna beat that....
So I got a raspberry and chocolate Mo' (the company is called Mo' gelateria) ice cream cone with the most ice cream I have EVER (and I have seen a lot of ice cream cones) seen any barista fit in one cone. The picture is coming soon....but it was bigger than my very amused smiling face. After the after dinner treat Emily and I watched a rom com and finished a bottle of red wine. What a perfect ending to the night. What wasn't so perfect though was the fact that we shared our room and four sets of bunkbeds with some serious knuckleheads. You know- the kind that come in at 4:30am, turn on the lights, have deep late night conversations with their friends, make pasta and then eat it on their beds- because eating outside of the room would just be flat out rude. Know the type? Oye dios. It took all of me not to crawl out of my top bunk and have a little chat with my co-inabitants. It actually probably had more to do with the fact that I would not have been able to yell at them in spanish and less to do with my level of irritation to tell the truth...
After breakfast (Chilean breakfast of champions=bread and butter- free with our hostel stay so I'm not complaining, only my stomach was- two hours later when I was hungry again...) Emily and I headed over to Valpo (Valparaiso), the city famous for it's historic poetic resident- Pablo Neruda (please look this guy up if you are ignorant in your Latin American historical knowledge- he was a cool dude) and for it's classy street art (legal and incredibly well done graffiti). 

We walked around, took some pictures and went on a tour of Neruda's house.

The view from La Sebastiana

It was 4 stories high, slender and had a central view of the harbor and all of the houses on the hill between his house and the water. Valpo is kind of like Santorini but with brightly colored houses and Neruda's house is right smack dab in the middle of the hill. It was a nice way to end the trip and with that we boarded a bus and headed back to santiago. THE END(: