Gringa

Being Gringo means you are from the United States. I have never been so different. I am tall, white, and sound like I am making fun of the Spanish language whenever I talk. One does not really think about these things until they are in a situation where everyone around them is different; at least that is the case for me. Yesterday, Dani had some friends over for her birthday. When I introduced myself, I was immediately referred to as the Gringa. There is not a bad connotation to the word, though from my description it may seem that way. For me, it would be like saying the Mexican, or the German, etc. I wonder what Chileans think of Americans. Do they think of the English language when they meet me? I'm sure. And American music; it is played here constantly. Being Gringa means I am different, and therefore several things. One, apparently more interesting. Two, a target. Everything I need is hidden on me in pockets or underneath my clothing, unless I have a bag, which is slung across my body and held in front. I am very much aware that I am a target. Every time I am on the street I wonder if people can look at me at tell. I feel like they can, but of course there is diversity here too, ethnic, religious, cultural, language, so maybe I do not stand out super much. I also wonder if every Chilean that does not look Latino/a is automatically thought of as Gringo, or as foreign, or maybe not either because they do not look out of place for their clothing or mannerisms (I am excluding language at this point and just thinking about looks and actions, though that of course is shallow). Just stuff I was thinking about. None of this is meant to be generalizing of Chileans, Americans, or whoever in any way, it is just a summarization of my thoughts and observations. Not of this is meant to be negative in any way, just thoughts, neutral.

Today I saw a movie at a Cafe in Valparaíso and was again accompanied by Thomas. It was a small cafe, and I wondered where the movie could be. Turns out, the basement. This did creep me out the entire time, but was safer than it sounds, I believe, because there were other people there, Chileans no less, and I thought that if it were really unsafe, that the Chileans would know, and that no one else would be around. Never would I have gone there alone, or without a crowd around me. Still, I watched the door the entire time because I was afraid it would be closed. Not the case, the owners watched the movie with us and were very nice; they told us that El Topo is a Mexican film, directed by a Chilean. It was a very odd movie, but good practice at least. Mexicans speak much more clearly than the residents of Viña and Valpo, anyway.