Tabo Wabo

Thanks to my best friend Megan, I had the pleasure of going back to the U.S. around Christmas/New Year’s time. I was a bridesmaid in Megan’s wedding on Jan. 3, so I got to go home for a couple of weeks to enjoy the festivities and spend time with my quality time-deprived family.

Two weeks at home passed like a snap of the fingers, but apparently it was enough time to alter my comfort zone. When I got back to Santiago I felt like a stranger in what I thought had become my home; and I suddenly felt the poignant absence of my family even more tangibly than the sweaty wall of humidity that pervades Santiago’s metro this time of year. I had never expected to feel so jolted by my return to Santiago. I didn’t have much time to feel jolted, though, because I was immediately whisked away to the Chilean beach town of El Tabo.

El Tabo is about an hour and a half from Santiago and is surrounded by a chain of other small beach towns. In theory, beach hopping in Latin America in the summer sounds amazing, but I wasn’t too excited about the trip because I knew I was going to be working the whole time for my institution, Domingo Savio. They had obtained a stay in some free cabins there, granted by the municipality of La Granja (Domingo Savio is located in La Granja, a borough of Santiago). Apparently La Granja rents out cabins to groups of people like ours who aren’t able to vacation at the beach like the rest of Santiago’s middle-to-wealthy classes do in the summer.

The four days we stayed in El Tabo were so jam-packed with events and my memory is so fleeting that I literally can’t give a play-by-play of everything that happened on the trip. But the beautiful beach experience captured the spirit of Chile and Domingo Savio so well that I have to at least give the highlights of the vacation. So here they are (in semi-chronological order):

“Carmen Cuidando los Niños”
We got our first full dose of the El Tabo beach after eating a huge lunch at the cabin mess hall. When we got to the beach, I set my towel down and closed my eyes, and between the waves and the carbs I was lulled right to sleep. When I woke up I realized that I had conked out for several hours and had not been watching the kids at all. Did I mention that my sole reason for being invited on the trip was to ensure the safety of these kids—most of whom can’t swim or love to wander off in all directions of crowded beaches without warning? Thankfully the other tíos had taken up my slack in watching the kids (or lack thereof). But to rib me a little bit for my indiscretion, Tío Jorge took a picture of me sleeping on my towel and titled the picture “Carmen Cuidando los Niños”, or, “Carmen Taking Care of the Kids.” He showed the picture to everyone and rubbed it in my face several times. Needless to say, I did not live my carefree moment down and I also did not fall asleep on the beach again.

El Canelo
On our second day in El Tabo we went to a nearby beach called El Canelo. To reach the beach we had to go through a little mini-forest, and when I got to the clearing in front of me lay this beautiful, albeit tiny, resort-style beach. Now, I have two requirements that need to be met before I go into the ocean: tiny waves and no sharks. The waves at El Canelo were the calmest I had ever seen and I had heard from the Chileans that Chile was shark-free (which is definitely not true, judging by the video I just watched of a gruesome shark attack in Chile. Uggghh.). Having met my two criteria for desirability, the ocean was very tempting at that point, but the water was freezing cold, so, at first, I refused to go in. Eventually, though, the kids and tíos cajoled me into going on one of those inflatable banana-shaped water sleds that gets pulled along by speed boats—a ride which I thought wouldn’t get me that wet. The banano, as they call it, was a blast but, unfortunately, the guy at the front of the banano did a “fun” tidal wave maneuver by putting his foot in the water while we were going full speed and we all got soaked.

Mounting the banano. I'm at the front

After that I went to dry off for a bit but eventually made my way back into the ocean (after basically being thrown into the water by two of my girls). I swam all the way out to the buoy, which I had never done before because I am always scared of sharks and waves. It was such a peaceful and yet exhilarating feeling to swim around in the open ocean like that—past the waves and all the people. (Too bad I will never do it again in Chile now that I know they have sharks…) I also played boys vs. girls Keep-Away in the ocean with my kids for quite awhile, but retired after being repeatedly pegged in the face with the ball. By the time I decided to go back up to our spot on the shore, the beach was so crowded there was barely room to step between towels. I have never in my life seen a beach so crowded, but I love people-watching so I actually reveled in all the commotion.

D-Sav bathing beauties at El Canelo

Los Juegos
Nearby the El Tabo beach they had several mini-carnivals set up with rides and games and, of course, fried food (what would a fair be without fried food). They called the parking lot-sized collection of rides the juegos (the games) and a big group of us went to the juegos after dinner one night. The only juego I went on was this saucer-shaped ride that you sat around the perimeter of as it spun and bounced you around to the beat of reggaeton blasting in the background. (Reggaeton is like a mix of reggae, salsa and hip hop and it is WILDLY popular in Latin America. To hear a popular reggaeton song, click here.) I am not always a fan of carnival rides but the saucer one made me laugh so much I was out of breath. Thankfully I wasn’t thrown out of the seatbeltless ride because then I might have joined the list of carnival ride casualties that are allegedly quite common at these slipshod Chilean juegos. Another thing that caught my attention about the fair was that at several of the games—like Ball-Toss and Bingo—you could win alcoholic prizes like bottles of beer and pisco. I had definitely never seen that before, but it didn’t surprise me seeing as how alcohol is so cheap and readily available everywhere in Chile. I finished up the night at the juegos with a sinful dulce de leche-filled churro before we all walked back to the camp.

The bouncy saucer ride

What Personal Space?
The cabins we slept in were huge, having something around 16 bunk beds and 2 bathrooms in each cabin. The girls slept in one cabin and the boys in another. Because our bunk beds were sans ladders, the girls were always climbing on the beds, knocking my stuff all over the floor and waking me up in the morning by stepping on me. And if I ever happened to be in the bathroom, every minute on the dot without fail someone would knock on the door, jingle the handle to the point of it almost coming off and then testily ask, “Who is it?” I guess personal space is just not an option when it comes to living with kids!

Beach Races
One day when we were hanging out at the El Tabo beach, the tíos threw together some impromptu relay races. The races we did were fairly generic, but when you combine 30 rambunctious kids, a handful of already-conspicuous gringos and a handsome, theatrical Master of Ceremonies—you create quite a spectacle. So in our relay performance I was paired with one of the older girls who is a bit heavier than me. Because of our weight differences, she ended up having to lug me around for most of the races (which Tía Andrea later joked was an abuse of power), but the race where I really couldn’t pull my weight was the rabbit leap. Maybe it was because everyone else was cheating—in true Chilean style—but I was by far the slowest rabbit jumper, which is apparently very amusing. In the end I cheated too, not wanting to be outjumped by any 5-year-olds. One of the other gringos, Daniel, also had his moment in the spotlight when he catapulted himself through the air doing a kangaroo leap, and Tía Andrea got some laughs when she face-planted into the sand while crossing the finish line. I think competitors and congregators alike delighted in the festivities.

Me "abusing my power" during a race

The kids racing

Jammin’
Where there is music and Latinos, there will be fun. Knowing this, the manager of our camp was very intent upon having us take advantage of his seemingly professional-grade Karaoke setup. So we had a Karaoke sing-along one night and a dance party another night—all overseen by the owner, who reveled in every minute of our revelry. The Karaoke was entertaining, but the dance party was “epic,” as my brother would say. It went on for hours—starting with all the little kids, then transitioning to a middle school dance in which, “you could cut the pre-teen sexual tension with a knife,” as Elliot joked.

The little kids just amaze me with how well they can shake and move their hips. I don’t know where they learn their moves from, but they could put a lot of my adult gringo friends to shame. And, unlike the U.S., these kids are definitely not embarrassed to tear it up on the dance floor. Even though I sometimes think the kids dance a little bit too risqué for their age, I also love how dancing is like breathing for them, rather than something that is seen as a talent or personal preference. Boy, girl, fat, skinny, gay, straight, old, young—everyone is socialized to love dancing here, and you can feel the freedom it gives them.

The little kids dancing

As the dance progressed, one of the pre-teen boys asked me to dance. Now this is a boy who very blatantly has a crush on me. He is always trying to hug and kiss me and I have to tell him things like, “No, we don’t kiss the tía on the neck,” or, “I’ve already kissed you hello today, so we don’t need to kiss again,” but he never seems to be deterred. And over the course of the beach trip a little bird told him how to say several phrases in English like, “Will you go out with me” and “You are my wife and I am your husband” so he was getting more and more determined to profess his crush on me. I didn’t know if it was the best idea to dance with him, but since it was just salsa dancing and the other tíos were all dancing with the kids, I went ahead and said yes. To my surprise, he was very sweet and kept his distance the whole time, but I think it was mostly because he was trying so hard to concentrate on how to salsa because he was obviously just learning.

Me in the Congo line at the dance

Eventually, I started dancing with another pre-teen boy. While we were dancing, a reggaeton song came on and the music video flashed up on the Karaoke machine. We were dancing away (with me making sure to leave PLENTY of room for the Holy Ghost) when all of a sudden he stopped me and said, “Tía, you need to do that dance.” I looked over at the screen to see what he was talking about and saw girls in go-go dancer shorts gyrating their butts just like in our rap videos. I ignored his request but he didn’t seem to care because he and all the other teenage boys had become transfixed by the T.V. screen. On the one hand I couldn’t believe how different this culture was that a kid could possibly even entertain the idea that I would dance like that in front of him—me being an uptight gringa who takes sexual comments so seriously and all. And on the other hand, I saw the cultural similarities between U.S. and Chilean adolescent boys, for whom butt-shaking music videos are all too intoxicating.

The big kids dancing. See if you can spot the gringos...

Lastly, I finally saw in action the famous Koala dance. I was flabbergasted by how sexual it was in nature and yet how no one blinked an eye over it. I guess that when I came to Chile, I thought that it would be a very conservative, Catholic country and that I would be viewed as the racy American heathen. I mean, divorce was only just legalized in Chile in 2004! But the longer I am here the more I realize how sexualized things are in this country and how I am viewed as an uptight gringa for being taken aback by them. If you’d like to see what the Koala dance looks like click here. (They demonstrate the dance about halfway through the video.) “Uptight” gringos beware…

Tío Time
One of the things I loved most about the vacation was the hour or so the tíos would get to spend together after the kids went to bed. We would bring out our secret rum and Coke stash and serve ourselves a glass, referring to the drinks as “café” just in case impressionable little ears were still alert. And one night we even ate a big summer watermelon together, getting juice all over our faces and making slurping noises so loud I think we woke up a couple of kids. After a long day without personal space and the incessant clamor of children’s voices, being around only adults felt like a rare treat. I also felt like we tíos bonded quite a bit during our grown-up gatherings, which means a lot to me since I work so closely with all of them on a day-to-day basis.

The tíos devouring watermelon and sipping "coffee"

Neruda’s House
Another one of the towns near El Tabo is Isla Negra, which is the location of one of Pablo Neruda’s many houses. Pablo Neruda is a beloved Chilean poet and his grave is actually located at his house in Isla Negra. The big kids and a few of us tíos hopped on a bus over to Isla Negra and took a tour of Neruda’s home, which was covered top-to-bottom with trinkets, most of which were nautical. The view of the ocean from his house was spectacular, so I can see why he was buried there and how his mind might have been nurtured by the space. Neruda is such a point of pride for Chile, and now, having been to his home, I can see that he was not a man to be forgotten.

The view of the ocean from Neruda's house

Building Trust
I never imagined just how hard it would be for me to build relationships with the kids I worked with. I guess I thought that I would come and play with them for a few weeks and then I would magically become their mentor and confidant. Well, it hasn’t worked that way. I don’t feel like I have built strong relationships with any of my kids and I certainly don’t feel like they would turn to me with their problems. Sometimes I feel like I have failed at my most important job—being a listening ear and giving good advice to these kids. That’s what I wanted to do as a volunteer here more than anything else, and yet it seems almost impossible to push through that boundary that takes these relationships from superficial to whole. I still haven’t made whole relationships with any of my kids—relationships complete with trust, support, faith and love. But I feel like I did get a little bit closer to building trust with them during the trip.

Several of the girls who usually have nothing to say to me went out of their way to strike up conversations with me or hold my hand on the way to the beach; other girls started joking around with me more and engaging me in their games. I also spent quality time with several of the kids playing games like Bingo, Uno and Foosball—although I almost lost my religion playing Bingo with them because they kept wanting to “help” me fill up my board (a.k.a. take over my board so I couldn’t play). But perhaps most special of all, one day one of the 14-year-old girls stayed behind with me to guard the towels while the other kids went to walk down the beach. I had previously not really known what to think of this girl because during a getting-to-know-you exercise, she asserted that she wanted to be a mother by the time she was 16. I always knew she was a nice girl, but she seemed very impressionable and at times stand-offish. During our talk on the beach, she ended up telling me that she was thinking of being a drug-crimes investigator and was planning on going to school for this for several years. That was the first time I had ever heard any of my kids mention a goal or aspiration for the future, and I was so glad to hear that she was even thinking about doing that, especially considering that her father just got kicked out of her house by the police for being a drug addict. Wouldn’t it be impressive if even just one of these kids could stop the cycle of drug addiction and poverty perpetuated by their families—and not just stop it, but fight it?

. . .

As much as it can be frustrating for me to not see the results of my presence in these kids’ lives, I have to remind myself that I am here to give love and encouragement without an agenda to receive the same. I have to remember that these kids have immature, abusive and sometimes criminal parents; they can’t trust the very people who are supposed to love and care for them the most in this life, so why would they trust a random gringa? I have to believe that trust is earned and that every time I have a good conversation or play a rowdy game of Keep-Away or help someone finish a project or hold a little hand on the way to the park—every time I do these things I will get that much closer to—in my mom’s words— “going up the ladder of trust”. These kids know I’m going away. They know I’m going to leave them. And therein lies the struggle: how do I get them to trust me so I can teach them a little about life and give them hope for the future, and how do they trust me when they know I’m going to abandon them? I don’t know the answer. But I do know that I am so thankful for those little moments I have with them when I feel like they just might miss me if they never saw me again.