What a night!

We almost had a long weekend because yesterday (May 1) was worker´s day in Chile and everything was closed, including my teaching site. Chileans like to celebrate holidays with barbecues (and, apparently, violence ... more rioting in the center, with 95 people detained by the police) and I had two to attend.

The first earned the "What a night!" heading. It was out in the boon docks of Santiago at the big, beautiful house of a guy I met at the institute. It was a bash to celebrate his birthday and everyone arrived by, oh, 10 pm. There were more than 30 people, mostly relatives and neighbors, and enough food for twice that many. It was a true feast!! The real treat for me, though, was that I got to speak Spanish like there was no tomorrow. Everyone made a concerted effort to include me in conversations and to tell me how well I speak. Maybe it was the compliments or maybe it was the pisco sours they kept filling my glass with, but I felt very confident. Seriously, though, even the 88 year old great-grandmother with bad eyesight and false teeth that bobbed when she talked said she could understand everything I was saying! The night ended with the young people (under 35) going to bed as a big dance party ensued in the living room, led by the birthday "boy" of 37 years, his wife, his 70 year old aunt, and his annoying and slightly lewd cousin (who my friend tried to apologize for on the way home). I was never lacking for a partner because whenever I was dancing alone, someone would grab a bystander, saying, "Dance with the profe!" (short for profesora). The dance party was so fun and so unexpected, I smiled and laughed the whole time. To think -- my parents in the States and their friends having a dance party in the living room until dawn!

The second barbecue less memorable. It happened yesterday afternoon at my host family´s house and the guest list was far more limited -- mom, dad, sister and her boyfriend, brother and his girlfriend, and one of my dad´s many brothers. It was ... boring. Maybe I´d been spoiled by the revelry the night before. Maybe I was tired and not very hungry. Maybe it was all in my mind, but it sure felt like they didn´t make any effort to include me. This is not the first time I´ve felt this way with them, but the contrast to the night before was especially stark. It´s frustrating because I want so badly to be integrated. It´s why I´m staying with a host family. Instead, yesterday, I poked my overcooked steak with my fork while they talked. Even when my uncle started making comments about "how things are in the U.S.", no one thought to ask the gringa who just might know a little more than the 50+ year old pawn shop guy who´s never been there. I´m just sayin´...