Bedbugs Update

CONFIRMED: BEDBUGS

My life for the past few days has been a whirlwind of bug bites, mattresses, exterminators, and a confused host family. It all started when I woke up next to a flat, brown bug looking me in the eye.

Of course, I ran and screamed to my host mom like a wittle baby. We had already discussed the possibility of fleas, stress, and allergic reactions (our maid tried convincing me I was allergic to all the chocolate or wine I was consuming. Are you just trying to make me angry or ruin my life?), but despite my reasoning of having patterns of bites, only being bitten at night, and trying every bug repellent in the world against ticks, mosquitos, ticks, etc., no one seemed to be on board with my bedbug theory. This had to be it! I had proof! This little guy definitely resembled a bed bug. I even Google Image'd pictures of bed bugs, and they looked exactly like the one we found. Unfortunately, after killing the bug and finding no blood inside, the family once again thought I was a crazy gringa. They even mentioned how expensive it would be to exterminate via steam-cleaning and told me I may have to move out. It all happened so quickly. I was devastated. As uncommon as bedbugs are in Chile (it's not like I'm rolling around in them all the time in the States!), no one wanted to believe that they could live anywhere and be transported very easily. "They are a bug of the country," my mom told me. "They don't exist in big, clean houses like this. I clean this house very well!" my maid insisted. I felt like the only one in the world who seemed to know the answer, and with little vocabulary to prove it.

Maybe it was showing the picture of the bug to the exterminator, or talking to my IFSA program leaders, or the extra research my host family did... but somehow between "You may have to change houses" and "Actually, I think you may be right about the chinches (bedbugs)," my mother went out and bought a new bed frame, mattress, pillows, comforter, sheets, and moved all of my things into a new room without carpet. It felt like Christmas morning after spending the night in my old bed and waking up with 18 new bites. Despite having to take pills and put on repellents and anti-itch cream, things are finally starting to look up. I can't tell you how frustrating it is to go through a situation like this with little-to-no support and in an entirely different country. Ojalá (God willing/let's hope) that everything will work itself out!

And because I forgot to do this on my last, hastily-written blog:

Things Chileans and Americans will never understand about each other!

Americans don't understand:
Public Displays of Affection. PDA. You're all over each other in public. This is one of the things I've tried telling myself is okay but can't help make an ugly face at when I see it. Okay, you're young and in love, and you can't keep your hands off each other... but do you really have to heavily make out and grab each other all over right in the middle of the sidewalk? I'm trying to get to class, people. Can't y'all just hold hands and walk home and make out there? The unfortunate thing is, this isn't that one drunk girl making out at 3:00 am outside of the bar, or 15-year-olds who have to hide from their parents. Adults do it too! Ew! People your age don't do that stuff! I'm not sure if this is a Chilean thing or normal in the Latin culture in general, but after dating someone from Mexico who would never approve of this behavior, I'm gonna go ahead and say I'm living in the public make out capital of South America (kidding).

Chileans don't understand:
How to host a party. Okay, before all the Chileans flip their lids over this, I must preface this section by saying Chileans know how to party longer and harder than anyone I know in the United States. You guys are crazy. You drink to the point that would leave me in the hospital and dance so long that I think my legs are going to fall off. But, at every asado I have been to that someone throws, everyone must pay for their share. I guess it makes sense if you care about it. A good example of this is at my friend Chris'
house. His family regularly lets him throw asados for various occasions. And in this case, it makes sense - we are all broke students and one guy shouldn't have to pay for what could potentially be 30 people's meals. Because of this, we all meet up at his house beforehand and walk to his nearby supermarket, the good ol' Jumbo, and buy our own meat. If we can't make it before the party, we end up paying once we get there. This concept applies more to adult parties. If you're offering to throw a party, why can't you serve some food for your friends and have everyone who attends bring a dish or a drink? When my family threw our asado for September 18th, we did just that. Our family prepared Chilean salad (what I mentioned earlier as tomatoes and onions), potato salad, a huge bowl of avocados, drinks, and a place to celebrate for 30 people. Everyone else brought their own contributions, such as meat for grilling or wine and pisco for the day and night. We had a great time singing, dancing, laughing, and telling stories...until I glanced over at my mom's boyfriend and he was whipping out his reading glasses, a notebook, and a calculator. He ended up figuring out every cent every person spent on the party and dividing it up amongst how many people had attended (children included). After every adult fished through their wallets and paid the exact amount, I couldn't help but feel awkward and like this was a little too rigid. I guess I was expecting this to be like My Big Fat Greek Wedding or something, where paying $15 more dollars for my portion than yours is all in the name of celebration with one's family and friends. Think again!

I promise to update about my spring break in San Pedro very soon. 'Til next time!

Good night, sleep tight, let's see how many more bed bug bites you have in the morning

My last promised blog had to be temporarily put on hold for an issue that required a little more of my attention.

I was starting to feel really good about being here, as if I was starting to become integrated within this community. I could drink the tap water without problems, carry a conversation with someone on the  street, and even started making friends with some of the colectivo drivers who regularly dropped me off at school. Sure I kept getting these odd bug bites more and more every day, but this whole thing would stop soon, right? Wrong. So what was going on?

Bedbugs.

To preface, practically nobody in Chile even knows what bedbugs are. So it was never actually confirmed that there were bedbugs living in my room (I'm shuddering just typing this). However - after doing my own research and piecing everything together, I was fully convinced that I have been fighting off a pretty stubborn group of bedbugs during my time here. While reading some homework in my bed one night, a small, brown bug crawled across my page. Not really thinking, I squished the little guy and flicked him away. As soon as I went back to reading, I noticed there was blood splattered on my page from where the bug was. So, being the typical hypochondriac I have become from 20 years of living with Peter and Deborah, I WebMD'd my bites, my symptoms, and bugs that eat blood. Knowing ticks weren't common in my area, and that I hadn't seen any other bugs but would always wake up with new bites, I started focusing in on bedbugs, as painful as it was for me to admit to myself. After googling 15 pages of images of the bites and comparing the entire upper half of my body to what I'd found, I was convinced - the Chilean bedbugs had gotten me. What was worse was that this revelation took place at 1:00am and I would have to go to sleep on my bedbug-infested bed. I finally gathered the chutzpah to wake up my host mother and explain everything I had found to her. The most difficult thing was that my mother had never even heard of bedbugs. Trying to explain to someone that a room in their house was infected with an insect they've never heard of is one thing, but the intricacies of the bedbug and how hard it is to find/kill them while in a different language seemed nearly impossible. My mom was super skeptical of my findings, as I frantically searched the internet for Spanish translations that explained everything about bedbugs. Thankfully, my mother communicated my findings to the entire family and maid the next day, and decided to hire an exterminator. After taking my bed apart down to its frame, all the curtains off the windows, carefully searching all upholstered furniture, moving every one of my possessions out of my room, and sleeping with my sister in her bed, my room was exterminated and we are waiting to see what happens. While we'll never know what was actually sucking my blood every night, I am stubbornly convinced that it's the Chilean Bed Bug Outbreak of 2011 (outbreak because another girl, Gillian, in my program may have it too, haha). That or this is revenge for never reading those insane Twilight books...

Last weekend was a constant party on September 18th, Chile's Independence Day. For three days, the entire country eats, drinks, and dances until they can no more, wearing traditional garments and decorating everything in red, white, and blue (their flag is almost identical to that of Texas'). Little booths are set up all over the country, selling typical foods such as empanadas, drinks such as chicha, and mini Chilean flags that people cover their cars with. This also means that we have 10 days off of school (I'm not arguing), and our group chose to take a trip to northern Chile to the desert of San Pedro de Atacama (I finally got back from the driest desert on Earth yesterday, so I promise to devote an entire blog next time to what we did there). My family decided to throw an asado, or barbecue/grill/get-together, the day before my trip for 30 friends and family. I was introduced to Chileans of all ages, to elementary school-aged Benja to grandparents in their 90s who could handle their vino better than anyone else. After consuming more empanadas, Chilean salad (literally tomato and onion) and pisco than we all could handle, certain family members and friends led the group in singing traditional patriotic songs and dancing the cueca. The party seemed to never end as we danced until the sun went down on our backyard patio. Seeing Chile's version of the 4th of July was incredible, and truly made for one of my most exciting days here. I can't even complain about the entire family trying to set me up with someone's son at the party!

My host mother's boyfriend, in the black hat and grey shirt above, has also given me some wonderful opportunities to further my career in dentistry during my time here. As a professor at one of the local universities, Raul has numerous connections in the area with various professionals, and with his hilarious and loud personality he seems to make friends with everyone in the country. Raul already set up a shadowing opportunity for me with a general dentist in the area, where I was able to sit in on tons of different procedures and learn the Spanish translations for a lot of the things I learned during my internship at Dr. Cassidy's office this summer. Raul has recently informed me that he has a female pediatric dentist friend who would love to have me shadow soon. Seeing how healthcare, especially the field of dentistry, works in another country has been incredible, allowing me to compare what I see in both countries and apply all the aspects I like to my future career as a dentist. Dental insurance is uncommon and very expensive in Chile, and every patient who came in was wealthy and educated. All of them even spoke English and gave me a "good luck and nice to meet you!" on their way out! I can't wait to compare all of my shadowing experiences in the US to those on the other side of the equator and show future dental schools just how passionate I am about all of this.

NEXT: My spring break adventures in the driest place on Earth - San Pedro de Atacama!

Too many Sterns for Chile to handle

I've really been slacking on my promise of consistently keeping my blog up to date. Some weeks are just nothing to write home about. I'm pretty sure the last things my grandparents want to hear consist of, "I went to my classes, Facebook chatted my friends when I should've been writing essays, and watched an entire season of Scrubs on my laptop this week." But soo-ho-ho-ho-hooooo much has happened in two weeks and I've been waiting for the hour or so of free time to be able to jot it down for the curious people at home. Since my last blog, I've gotten the opportunities to:

1). Show my parents my life in Chile
2). Turn in my first application to dental school
3). Witness Chile's reactions to two life-changing historical events
4). Visit another one of Pablo Neruda's houses
5). Tour a not-so-typical chocolate factory in Curacaví

To start off, having my parents for a week in Chile was one of the best times of my life - really! It felt so good to be able to share this life-changing experience with the people I'm closest to, trying new food and drinks (Deborah will never stop ranting about pisco sours and manjar,  I know it!), climbing the San Fransisco-esque hills of Valparaíso, witnessing the parallel lives of the Chilean street dogs (Peter came up with that...and I'm stealing it), and introducing them to my Chilean family. We had the best time of our trip sitting on my host family's patio, eating great food, trying new wines, and comparing how similar and different our lives truly are. The Chileans, or at least my family, surround themselves with friends and family constantly. My host mother consistently asks different friends to come over for every meal, and my host sisters visit their cousins at least once a week.  We couldn't help but leave the lunch examining how we spend our free time, especially after sitting in the hotel for a couple of hours on our respective iPads. I am not trying to make my family or Americans out to be lazy or antisocial whatsoever - sometimes time by myself in front of a computer or TV helps me get my mind off of everything - but we definitely don't come off as "warm" as the Latinos do. I'm also not saying we need to all get together and reenact an Olive Garden commercial for every meal, but how often do we go out of our way to see extended family? How many lunches spent eating alone could have been shared with a good friend? I've seen the impact it has made on my Chilean family's life and it's something I'd like to continue more when I get back home.

I won't bore you all with the dental school stuff. Lord knows you hear me talk about teeth 2-3 times on an average day. But I was thankful enough to be able to submit a Reserved Admissions Program application to UMKC's dental school while abroad. The program, if one is accepted, reserves a spot for you after graduating college, with a high GPA and DAT score setting one apart from the rest and helping one avoid applying through the normal process. Preparing and submitting the application while abroad was difficult, but thanks to so many who support me I got everything I needed turned in on time. Keep your fingers crossed!

The Chileans have had an interesting couple of years making news headlines around the world, with miners, earthquakes, and the current student strikes. Now the country has been sent into shock with the tragic plane crash from this week, killing numerous famous media and military workers traveling to southern Chile to cover the aftermath of the most recent earthquake. Only remnants of the bodies have been found, yet some psychics have been “predicting” that a few have survived and are living in underwater caves (really? Get out of here with that nonsense...). To better explain it, this would be the equivalent of if the entire group of Good Morning America correspondents all died. Other exchange students have been describing the event as “the equivalent of Princess Diana’s death” in their houses, with mothers staying home from work crying and keeping themselves glued to their TVs. My family has predicted that this will be the number one headline for the rest of my time here. 

Over the weekend, our program took us on another excursion to see some touristy towns that lie between Santiago and Valparaíso. Our first stop was in the town of Curacaví, home to a small unique chocolate factory with a big reputation. We began the tour trying samples of the different kinds of chocolate they offer, all made with 80% and above dark chocolate and the weirdest flavor combinations. Before trying the pepper, oregano, clove, and lemon chocolates, we were instructed in how specifically to enjoy such fine chocolates, first by observing, smelling, and then taking a small chunk from the piece you are trying. Of course, this resulted in everyone having chocolate allll over their teeth and me being grossed out. We were able to see how the chocolates are filled and made into individual candies, and were required to wear hair nets during the entire tour. The factory also hand-makes and packages their own chocolates for the W hotel in Santiago, and specializes in making unique Kamasutra chocolates, depicting some pret-ty uh...unique stuff. Do people actually buy that? Why does that need to be on chocolate, really? Pervs...

We then went to Isla Negra to visit one of Pablo Neruda's other houses overlooking an incredible rocky beach. Leave it to Pablo to design a house with rooms specifically for his seashell and bug collections and a huge paper mache horse. I like thinking of Pablo Neruda as the Kanye West of the 20th century - an artist way too talented for his own good, some severe relationship problems, and endless money to blow on the most extravagant possessions. Unfortunately we couldn't take pictures inside the house, but below are pictures from our trip.

Don't you find it annoying that I have to post these pictures individually instead of in a slideshow? Blogger has made it purposefully difficult for me to do so. Sorry for the inconvenience. Remember, you can click on the photos to see them better.

Last but not least, to fulfill your complete Caroline's blog experience... Things Chileans and Americans will never understand about each other!

Americans don't understand:

the idea of "age is just a number" in relationships. I only say this because the only men who seem to go out of their way to actually talk to me (instead of staring at me like I have three heads or whistling at me when I'm in line at McDonald's) are those who could be my father's best friends. The worst experience I've had with this was at a bar which my host sister described as "the best of the best" amongst the youth in Viña. One minute I'm drinking my pisco sour, watching the mediocre Red Hot Chili Peppers cover band, and the next I'm getting tapped on my shoulder by salt-and-pepper-haired man in a blazer. Look, you may at least be a distinguished older guy, but if I'm still receiving an allowance from my parents and you're balding, chances are this relationship wasn't meant to be. But to Chileans, this is perfectly okay. In less than two months of classes, all of our required stories or movies have been about super young girls having sex with very old men. What's the deal, Chile? Why is it perfectly normal for my 23-year-old sister to date a 38-year-old? Actually, they're really cute together, but you catch my drift. In a culture where "Lolita" could be reality, I'm left a little nervous when I go out (and my parents are, too).

Chileans don't understand:

why kids leave the house at 18. While in the US, it's perfectly normal for a son or daughter to "go off to college," find an apartment with friends, or just want a little more independence than normal, Chileans find it unnecessary and detrimental. Many Chileans go to a nearby university or home, giving them the ideal situation of living with their parents for a few more years. This saves them money they'd otherwise have to pay for rent, food, and in some cases, gas. Families let the child go out whenever they want, come home whenever they choose, and have people over as if it were their own space. I think Americans just feel entitled to a more independent life by their 18th birthday (I used this to back any argument up with my parents - uh, hello, guys! I'm eighteeeen, duh) and sometimes simply need their own space. All parents can tend to be a tad smothering, and if some of my friends acted the way they do in their own homes, all hell would break loose. My Chilean mother thinks this is crazy, thinking kids on their own not only have to work harder to provide for themselves, but put themselves in more harmful situations in which they can drink, do drugs, and have sex with no boundaries. 

I will be writing two blogs this week, with the next one (hopefully) on Friday about my most memorable times in my daily colectivos. Until next time!