overseas briefing Don't drink the chicha

Author: Nicholas Spenger

VALPARAISO - I returned to ValparaÌso just in time to enjoy week two of my vacation from the university. Sept. 18th is Chilean Independence Day, exactly one week after the anniversary of the golpe. It's oddly appropriate that, after a week of protests and, for many, dark memories, the Chileans put on their party faces and ponchos, and dance la cueca (the national dance of Chile, which supposedly imitates a rooster courting a hen - despite the rather banal premise, it's actually quite entertaining to watch, and the music is a rapid, Chile-spiced waltz), and drink like there's no tomorrow - for five days in a row. So they basically put the Fourth of July to shame, no matter how loud we blast Jimi's take on the national anthem or CCR's "Fortunate Son." But, as I found out the hard way with a nasty cold, one has to be on one's guard in the face of such festivity. And I thus present a list of survival tips if you ever find yourself in the midst of the fiestas patrias in Chile:

1. DON'T DRINK THE CHICHA. It sounds simple yet intriguing: fermented, unfiltered grapes. "Mmmm! Let me try that!" Bad idea. It's like wine, but dirty moonshine-style, which makes for a very upset stomach. I tried it at the ramadas in Playa Ancha, a state-fair type of set-up with countless carnie games, food stands, hay-covered dance floors and antediluvian rides like a huge metal octopus with evilly-angled eyebrows, sharp teeth and eight mechanical tentacles that whirl brave/drunk passengers around in tiny cages. After only one cup of chicha, my desire to take a spin on the octopus dampened in the shadow of a new urge to clutch my stomach and die.

2. FOUR KABOBS ARE SUFFICIENT. Pushing for five is just asking for trouble, and make sure to balance your diet with a sausage or two and a slice of la torta de mil hojas ("the cake of a thousand leaves" - a dozen crepe-thin layers of cake and egg whites packed with manjar, a caramel-like substance that Chileans smear on anything that they haven't already doused with mayonnaise or vinegar).

3. STICK TO TRIED-AND-TRUE CLUBS. On the recommendation of a Chilean friend (or should I say, ex-friend), I went to a club called "Stocolmo," which was very flaite ("trashy," more or less, although my 14-year-old host sister uses the term to describe anyone she doesn't like). The highlight of the evening was when a bunch of muscular, busty women in spandex jumpsuits emerged on the catwalk above the dance floor and began to gyrate holding larger-than-life models of Pall Mall cigarette cartons, emblazoned, as Chile's anti-tobacco legislation requires, with the horrid face of Don Manuel, a 70-year-old chileno who lost a lung to cancer and has a hole in his throat (hey, at least he's enjoying his 15 minutes of fame!). This unnerving display gave me a visceral image of what my literature professor referred to in class as lo grotesco.

4. IF YOU CATCH A COLD, pick up a box of Gripasan, a powerful all-purpose medicine with a lovely substance called Clorefenamine that will make you groggy enough to stay in bed watching Pink Panther episodes and getting the rest you need.