Did you know that in Chile, and many other developing or less affluent countries than the U.S. of A., you're not supposed to throw away your toilet paper in the toilet? Their pipes can't support it or something (perhaps I should do some research into the plumbing practices in South America to better understand this situation). So every bathroom (public or otherwise) comes equipped with a little trashcan for all your shit-stained T.P. Convenient. I still forget sometimes. I've had friends who have been brave enough to retrieve their toilet paper from pee-filled bowls when they forget, but me… I'm just to lazy or urine-fearing to do that.
But my whole diet has had to go through a transformation down here. For instance, THE EATING SCHEDULE: The Chilean meal schedule features a light breakfast of pan (bread), buttered with a slice of pork (that more closely resembles spam in my school's case) and tea. They drink a lot of tea here. And put a lot of sugar in their tea. This exacerbates their already rapid pace of speaking making it even more difficult for me to understand them after tea time. Almuerzo (lunch) is the biggest meal. It usually involves salad, more pan and some potatoes or pasta and some meat. There's also a lot of mayonnaise. Kind of dry and a little boring, but the big portions at lunch are certainly filling. Then dinner is essentially the same as breakfast: pan with butter, pork slice and cheese. And tea, of course. Chileans are not big on spicy food I've come to realize. And as an addict of taco trucks back in the States I was kind of disappointed by this. I need some spice, some Tapatío, something. But the bread is plentiful and delicious, so that's something. At least I can fill up on carbs.
During our first week of orientation in Santiago, when I went out for lunch I found two signature dishes at most restaurants: the Completo (a hot dog with tomatoes, avocado and mayonnaise) and the Churrasco (a burger-like sandwich with meat, tomatoes, avocado and mayonnaise). I think that the meat in Churrasco is lamb but I'm really not sure at all. Over the course of that first week my stomach fought with each piece of meat I presented it with. And expelled each with fervor. The meat is good going down, don't get me wrong (obviously depends on the restaurant, too), but the body simply has to adjust from all the fake nutrients and fake taste injected into food in America. It's a process of acclimation. And something I was determined to get through in that first week.
I was brazen and stupid my first two nights in Santiago. Here is an unfortunate admission: My second night in Santiago - my second night in Chile - I shit myself. THE SCENE: Our group was in between bars and I had drank too much beer and needed to relieve myself pronto. So I found an alley and a dark corner while my friend's waited on the main street. The beer was giving me gas and I tried to pass a bit of fragrance into the alley. Instead, I got poop in my pants. I zipped myself up went to the nearest bar, found the bathroom, locked the door, and stared at myself for a good 5 minutes. This is what I said:
"Fuck. You. You Fuck. You Fucking Fuck. How old are you? What is your fucking problem? You're a fucking moron. How do you expect to survive in a foreign country where you don't know the language, where you stick out like a bruised and bloody thumb and you're shitting yourself like a goddamn baby in the street?! Get your shit together. Yeah, literally, asshole. You dumb piece of shit. And stop peeing in public you fucking idiot. You're going to get beat up, robbed, OR WORSE, some cute girls going to see you. I think getting beat up would be the OR WORSE in that lineup. FINE. JUST GET IT TOGETHER, OK? Okay, okay…"
After I was finished with the schizophrenic self-loathing, I removed my shit filled undergarments and threw them in the T.P. trash can.
Well, I wasn't going to flush them, was I?
*My first night in Santiago a bunch of us volunteers went out drinking on Avenida Brasil. After a couple of big bottles of Escudo (local lager) at a place called GOODDRINKS I left the group and went up to the bar in hopes of getting some tap water. My first couple of days in Santiago featured some really awkward beginner Spanish. Not the worst of which was when I stepped up to this mostly empty bar and asked for some "agua libre, por favor." "Libre" is "free" in the sense that America is bringing "Freedom" to the Middle East. "Free" like personal freedom and not "free" meaning "for no money." That would be "gratis". So at the time, buzzed and happy as I was, my repeated asking for "agua libre" was met with a lot of confusion and laughter from the genial Chilean bartenders of GOODDRINKS. Eventually I got my tap water. But what they must of thought when this fucking gringo kept repeating "freedom water, please!" at them over and over again. I think they got a kick out of it. Or at the very least I reinforced American Ignorance for them. Win-win, I guess.
You're not really travelling unless you've shit yourself as a grown man. Also, once in the space of a week I shit my pants in Mongolia then puked all over a panda reserve.
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