"What I really meant to say was..." - Communicating in Chile

I've never really considered the importance of consonants before coming to South America.  "Tomar" and "tocar," for instance. Almost the same word, to a foreign ear, but one should really keep in mind the difference between drinking and touching something. And let's not forget about those vowels. Only seven of them, but damn, how they really affect the significance of a word. Once I attempted to tell my Ecuadorian friend that I had just tried cui, a regional delicacy of roasted guinea pig. But I guess my cui sounded a little more like cuyo, and I wouldn't suggest telling a friend you just ate asshole when, in fact, you really did no such thing.

For this reason, I would add "a sense of humor" to the "What to Bring" list of any foreign exchange student. In addition to a Spanish dictionary, hand sanitizer ("gringo gel"), and a strong stomach, the ability to laugh at yourself is really going to come in handy. For those perfectionists who love doing everything right on the first try, prepare yourself. You too will make the mistake of adding an "o" or "a" to the end of an English word, only to find out that playing música de foca does not actually mean "folk music," but rather, the music of seals. And no, the Uruguayan I tried to pick up that night did not find my aquatic talent the least bit impressive. You will answer si to questions that require neither a yes or no, when merely your name or favorite food would've sufficed. But at least that's not as bad as answering si when you REALLY should've said no. I almost got myself a 35-year oldnovio with that one.

But these are the best mistakes I've ever made. A foreign country is the best place to make a fool of yourself, because in six months, any mistake, regret, or disappointment just fades into the collective oblivion. It's liberating, sometimes, to know that you won't be remembered. Like being home alone, when you're completely free to raid kitchen cabinets, walk around naked, talk to potted plants. I'm not condoning "experimentation" (or talking to potted plants, that's just weird) but push your limits. Try something new. Take a chance. I've embarrassed myself, offended the local culture, made people laugh for the wrong reason, but have learned from every single mistake. Everyday, the foreign becomes a little more familiar. I feel a little more understood, a little more understanding. But if a local were to ask me how to summarize my experience in South America thus far, my answer would still be si. And it wouldn't be so far from the truth.

Chilean slang of the week:

Fomingo: A play on words between fome ("boring") and domingo ("Sunday"). Because Sundays pretty much suck in Santiago.
Huevón: It's the word I hear most and understand least. I'm convinced it's the sound of a period because you'll hear it at the end of every sentence, huevon. You can call friends huevones, you can call jerks huevones, it's an adjective, it's a verb, it's a plane... it means absolutely nothing.
Hachazo: Hungover. Which makes sense, considering hacha means "axe." Gruesome.


-Christina Lacy