Don't walk in my toilet?

The single most challenging experience I’ve had in Chile thus far has been dating a Chilean. For two months I was obsessed with a guy from my capoeira class: broad shoulders, perfect muscles, tan, good facial structure, able to do flips, kicks, an somersaults in midair. He invited me to a samba class but then never called me, so I figured he must not like me that much. The next time he invited me I didn’t answer the phone, I just sent him a message saying I was busy. The third time I finally went, but because I couldn’t understand him over the phone I didn’t realize until I arrived that he hadn’t invited me to samba but to a capoeira event.

In any case, we finally started seeing each other outside of class, and I was giddy every time I had the opportunity to go out with him. I bored my roommates by retelling every detail of every date and everything he said to me after each class. Finally, he invited me to Valparaiso for the weekend for another (what else?) capoeira event. He finally kissed me when we were dancing, and the first thing I wanted to do was text my roommate and tell her. I finally had my confirmation that he did like me and all these excursions were in fact dates after all. Dating is confusing enough when you share a language and a culture, but when you don’t, you never have any idea what’s going on.

Back in Santiago things were a little awkward in class but I kept my distance and played it cool, and we continued to see each other. As I got to know him I learned he’s 28, teaches tennis and capoeira for a living, and lives with his parents (shocking, I know, but suspend judgment because that’s normal here).

I finally invited him over to my place and he started hanging around more than is customary here I suppose, because my roommates pulled me aside one night and told me that he was taking advantage of the situation in order to get away from his parents’ house. This never would have occurred to me since in the US hanging out a lot at your new girl’s house isn’t really weird (and no one has the need to escape their parent’s house at 28). In any event, I promised them I wouldn’t bring him around as much.

We continued dating, but my infatuation faded to interest. He could be a bit condescending at times, not because he meant to be, but probably because he’d never dated a gringa before and I don’t think he realized how much I understand. I am a very proud person and I don’t take kindly to condescension, so I always responded with some sarcastic comment. I could tell at that point that the relationship wasn’t going to work out.

Nonetheless, I kept seeing the guy because my friends are all in serious relationships and I didn’t want to be stuck at home alone on a Saturday night or playing the 3rd, 5th, or 7th wheel at all the social outings. If we were just dating and it was nothing serious, I could tolerate his ignorance in exchange for some company, I told myself.

But one night, I’m hanging out with him at my place and I hear a knock on my door. I decide to ignore it since I figure it’s just my roommates complaining about having a stranger in the house again and I wasn’t in the mood to hear it. But a couple minutes later I hear another knock. I decide I better go see what’s the matter, and I find my roommate puttering in the kitchen with a mop and some Lysol.

“Did you use the bathroom?” he asked me.

“No, why?”

“Was it your friend?” (he refuses to acknowledge that we are actually dating)

“I don’t know, maybe. Why?”

“There’s piss all over the floor,” he tells me.

….

“What???”

He takes me to the bathroom and shows me some wet spots on the floor next to the toilet.

“A little more respect,” he growls at me. “That’s all.” He didn’t speak to me for a couple days after that.


Poll: you’ve just started dating a guy in a foreign country. Every interaction you have is in your second language and therefore requires twice the effort and causes you to over-analyze twice as much as you would in your own country. He pees on your floor and doesn’t clean it up. What do you do?

What did I do? Speechless, returned to my room, told him I was tired and had to go to bed, and never brought it up. How do you bring that up? I’m not even sure my English is good enough for that conversation, much less my Spanish.

And so my interest faded to confusion, disapproval, and desperation. Was this infraction of basic hygiene rules enough of a reason for me to stop seeing him? Could I tell him “Look, you peed on my floor, and now we can’t see each other”? Or have the softer yet insincere “It’s not you, it’s me” talk? Was I ready to face the awkwardness that would be capoeira class afterwards?

Apparently not. For some reason I kept seeing the guy. I took a week off when I went on vacation to Colombia, figuring that when I came back maybe things would be clearer or I would have more guts. Of course, when I returned to Chile it was all exactly the same. My solution was to not allow him in the house (I made him wait outside on the sidewalk while I ran upstairs to pick up a coat and some extra cash one night) but to keep seeing him if I had nothing else to do because it was easier than confronting the situation.

Now, instead of boring my roommates with details of our dates I harassed them for their advice on what the hell I was supposed to do. They had little sympathy for me, naturally, and told me to dump the guy for once. Instead, I invited him to happy hour with my whole group of gringo friends and another Chilean guy friend who had a big crush on me. Bad idea possibly conceived because of a few too many Kuntsmans.

When I introduced Capoeira Man the Other Guy, CM asked him what he did for a living. OG told him he was a psychologist, and CM replied “Oh, me too”. So in addition to being a condescending floor-pisser, he’s a liar. Fantastic.

Clearly undaunted, I saw him one more time when I invited him to a barbecue with the same group of friends. (Other Guy hasn’t spoken to me since now that he knows I’m not interested, and thus I lose all my single male Chilean friends). Afterwards, my friends tell me they couldn’t understand a word the guy said and that I’m essentially dating a Chilean redneck. And this whole time I thought I couldn’t understand him because my Spanish was bad even though I don’t have this problem with anyone else.

I like to think that this was the final straw not because of my personal issues with all things redneck (having grown up in rural Frederick County, Maryland), but because there were really a lot of straws beneath it. My confusion, disapproval, and desperation plummeted to pity and disdain. I couldn’t bear to look at the guy anymore. Hanging out at my apartment the last time, I felt a dire urge to get rid of him. I knew that I could no longer accept his dates out of boredom. I would rather sit at home alone watching old episodes of Glee, or be the 21st wheel every Saturday night for the rest of my time in Chile than have to listen to him tell me I was getting better at dancing or ask him to repeat what he said one more time when I didn’t really give a damn in the first place.

Since then I have seen him in class, and I avoid the mouth kiss by turning to the side for the socially-acceptable and platonic cheek kiss. When he calls I don’t answer, and when he texts I tell him I’m busy. I think he will get the hint. Maybe I’m cruel, but I think my instincts are struggling in this intercultural context. I like to think my attraction to someone doesn’t rise and fall like a roller coaster when I know what I’m dealing with. But I suppose that’s part of the adventure of having a Latin lover: like a box of chocolates, you might get an Antonio Banderas, but then again, you might get the Bumblebee Man.

A Day in the Life

It's been a bit since I've written because I feel like I should have something interesting to write about rather than mulling over the day-to-day routine. But after some reflection I realize that perhaps that daily grind in Santiago might be of interest to the folks at home who are blasting the air conditioning and dreaming of snow-capped mountains. So, I apologize if this blog is a bit dull, but let me attempt to give you a little taste of my life.

Mondays through Fridays I teach classes during the day. Right now I only have three classes: a private lesson with a 35 year-old marketing manager who works for Bell Microproducts, a group class with 6 students from Movistar, and another private lesson with a finance manager at Cardif insurance. The first two are level one, so beginner/intermediate. We do a lot of grammar and basic conversation practice. The finance manager is level 4, so he is pretty advanced. I try to find authentic texts (podcasts, articles, or other things that are made for real people rather than the classroom) on subjects that will interest him to make the hour and a half class go by quickly. When I'm not teaching I have to check in at the Comunicorp office every day. I use the time there to plan my lessons and familiarize myself with their resources.

My boss is a nice woman, but she can be pretty intense. She is always willing to help me out, and she seems to have a great mind for business. Everything she does is to improve the Comunicorp image and sell more classes, so it's important for her to make sure that we know what we're doing and get all the help we need. Recently there has been a lot of turnover in the teaching staff, so my roommate and her veteran friends and just getting to know me and the other knew recruits. Maybe it's just me, but there seems to be a little tension in the air. I hope that after the next staff meeting we will get a chance to know each other better and hopefully make friends.

Outside work, I go to yoga Mondays and Wednesdays with my roommate and a couple other teachers, and I go to capoeira Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. I used to practice capoeira in the US with a Chilean teacher, and he recommended this school to me. I was a little nervous about showing up by myself, hoping I would be able to understand all the instructions and that the other students wouldn't look at me like a crazy gringa (always a risk...), but when I showed up I was greeted with hugs and kisses, and the group was really happy to have one of Bucho's students join them all the way from America. I confess to enjoying not just a little the room full of young Chilean men in perfect physical form, many of whom seem to find my blue eyes and light hair exotic. I don't necessarily mind the attention. Although there aren't many other girls in the class, they are also really nice and welcoming, which I haven't experienced very often among Chilean girls. There is definitely a sense of community there, and I am glad I found the group so quickly.

Unfortunately, my social life so far has been a bit lacking. I have my roommates, and a few random contacts to hang out with, but somehow on weekends I spend a lot of time waiting to go out and do something, often to be let down at the end when the rest of the crew decides they don't feel like doing anything. I enjoy hanging out around the house with them, but either I need to bring the party and animate them to go out more, or I need to find a group of friends who is always up for an adventure. I am thrilled to be in Chile, but these are the moments when I miss the awesome group of friends I had in Baltimore, where there was never a boring weekend!

Until I find a crew like that down here, I am trying to make the best of time spent relaxing at home, which I never did enough of in Baltimore. I've only been here for three weeks and I'm sure that in time as I get to know my fellow capoeiristas better and make more contacts, I will probably be just as busy as I was back home.

What else can I tell you about daily life? Feel free to send me some questions and give me an inspiration of what else to write about...