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!