Hair Cutting Parties and Carretear-ing

It is absolutely gorgeous in Viña del Mar today. The weather has been positively chilling at night, but during the day, the sun comes out and it feels like mid-Spring. The last couple of days have been quite busy, and I thought I would write about them quickly before I take off on a bus for Santiago.

In Chile, there seems to be a peluqueria, or hair salon, on every block. So it did not make the most of sense when Jenn and I decided to cut our hair together, but any excuse for a party that costs absolutely no money is hard to turn down. Besides, I was just aiming to get rid of the femullet (translation: female mullet) that I seemed to be quickly acquiring and was wary of trying to explain that to a hair cutter in Spanish. So cut we did, in Jenn’s bathroom. Jenn’s was a dramatic change – she had been growing her hair long in anticipation of her wedding, but decided she liked her hair better short and could still do fun things with it and a veil. I approved :). Then the two of us together worked on my mullet situation, and I have to say I’m confident that we did a good job. Sure, the next hairdresser I go to will probably be appalled at how uneven everything is, but I have wavy hair, these things aren’t important to me. Bottom line is, in case you were wondering, hair cutting parties are where it’s at for a good time in Chile. For your own party, try to make sure your host mother comes home right in the middle of the process so she can try to explain to you in Spanish why she thinks you’re crazy.

A few hours after the hair-cutting extravaganza, Jenn and I were partying again, but this time at a real carrete. Explanation: in Chile, people don’t say salir (to leave or go out) as much as they do carretear. It’s one word to say go-out-drinking-and-dancing-until-at-least-five-in-the-morning. Basically, party Chilean-style. Not exactly my every-night cup of tea, but dancing is fun, staying up late can be too, and I definitely feel I need to embrace some Chilean youth culture while I’m here. So Friday night, 16 gringos and Sara’s host sister Daniela headed to what is fast becoming our regular place, Olé. Sure, it sounds very Cheers-meets-resort-town-alcoholism to have a “regular place” so quickly, but it has really cheap happy hour prices (which for weak foreigners like us, is fine since we always go out super early anyway), a fun atmosphere, and karaoke! What could be better? So after a few drinks and some karaoke, we headed from there to Scratch (pronounced, like all things beginning with “s” here, with an “e” at the beginning, sounding more like “escrech”). It wasn’t amazing, especially since the dancing, the only part I was really interested in, was hindered by the tons of people there. One guy started dancing with me and then announced proudly that he had some joints for later if I was interested. It’s funny the things “blonde” hair will attract here. Still, it was an experience, and I made some new friends in the bathroom: two drunk girls who thought it was great that I was from Pennsylvania and quickly told me they had a friend in Texas, what a coincidence. I woke up the next morning (yesterday) glad I did it, but not anxious to do it again.

Which was why I was not totally pleased to learn that a bunch of marines wanted to carretear the following evening. But perhaps that requires a bit more explanation. I, Caitlin, slightly skeptical of military schools after friends dated VFMA guys, am going to a military ball. I know, pretty crazy. The Chilean naval school is here in Viña del Mar, and since men have to come from all over Chile to attend, they often stay with neighborhood families on the weekends instead of going home. One such marine lives with another student on my exchange program, so his host mother began to search among the gringas for dates for a few of the boys. Sara, Katie, and I were the lucky ones. Last night was our getting-to-know-each-other night. All we knew was that we were going over to the apartment at 9:30 to meet them, and we were desperately hoping that after the previous evening we wouldn’t be out too late. We got into the elevator with our new boys, whose accents were painfully thick, and found out we were heading to a pub and then Valparaíso to dance. Reluctant, but eventually willing, we decided to go along with it and knew that we could all head out together if necessary. We were lucky we decided to go because the discotheque in Valpo ended up being much more fun. The music was good and there was plenty of room to dance.

Still, the night wasn’t without it’s own interesting side effects. It turned out that my marine was also a big fan of pot and had been missing it ever since joining the academy. Not my favorite topic of conversation, but we didn’t have to talk that much since we were all dancing at that point. That didn’t stop him from poking at my belly and calling me fat though. Now, it’s not uncommon for Chileans to affectionately call each other things like “little fat one”, but it was still a little uncomfortable since he was obviously not impressed by my constant need to eat. Soon after calling me fat, he also was sure to tuck in my bra strap that had slipped out from under my tank top a bit, making me think he thought I was both gluttonous and a slut. The American slut strikes again! Not that I really cared what he thought, but I certainly couldn’t imagine spending the rest of the night dancing with him after that. He obviously couldn’t have thought I was that unappealing though, because then we had a ten minute conversation about why I didn’t want to date him, finally ending with me saying, “let’s just go back and dance.” In the end, it really was a fun night, but certainly comical. When we left the club and Sara and I announced that we really needed to buy hot dogs at the same place the guys were buying their sandwiches, they seemed positively disturbed that I would want to eat again after making everyone wait while I bought cookies before the club. Some social things here I will just never get used to.

That ended up being quite a bit longer than I expected, so I hope it wasn’t too boring. Expect more pictures soon…the military ball is in a week!