Chilean Hospitality (not to be confused with kidnapping)

I've been intending to write a little something about Chilean hospitality for quite some time now. As the title suggests, and as you will soon discover, the Chilean concept of inviting others to reunions, whether it be to lunch (formal) or to tea (very informal) almost always involves a command and whole lot of deception. Therefore, Chilean invitations are in fact not really invitations at all, but instead premeditated 'requests' with only one right answer: YES. To say no to an initial invitation, folks, is like turning down a personal invitation from the Pope to take a private tour of the Vatican Gardens: you just don't do it. If, in fact, you do turn down someone's initial invitation - well, I won't even cross that line - like I said, you just don't do it.

I'll give a particularly demonstrative example.

The other day, as I was preparing to walk into town to meet with the other volunteers in order to discuss all-important plans for the upcoming winter vacation, my family randomly suggested that we go check out a popular sandy crescent-shaped beach called cifuncho. At the time, it was already 4pm, and I had planned on meeting them at 4:30. Also note that the family had been particularly keen on grilling me the entire day about my poor Spanish, and I was truly looking forward to speaking English with the others and having some time to rewind.
"But it's so close," they said.
"How close?"
"Only ten minutes, we swear!"
"OK, sure," I innocently responded.

How could I possibly turn down an offer to visit a beautiful sandy crescent-shaped beach? We hopped in their 1990 Nissan pickup (complete with massive windshield-length crack) and flew up the highway to meet the Panamerican South. After 10 minutes or so we met the Panamerican, as well as a glaring sign that reads "Cifuncho: 35km"

"35KM!!!" I screamed, while the entire family was laughing hysterically and chanting "estas secuestrado, estas secuestrado!" (You're kidnapped). Needless to say, I did not appreciate this.

We arrived at the beach at 4:30, exactly the time I had promised to meet the other volunteers in town. The beach was admittedly gorgeous - a huge crescent framed on both ends by jagged cliffs and dark volcanic rock, with calm waves - but after 30 seconds of attempting to assuage my frustration by staring out to sea the whole family decided it was time to hop back in the car.


"OK Max, tienes un reunion, vamos a regressar!"
"What? Leave already? We just got here, and I'm going to miss it anyway!"

Nonetheless, we hopped back in, speeding along the highway in the white deathtrap at 140km/hr with no seat belts. Clearly, for those of you who know me very well, I was not a happy camper at this point. My independence had been completely revoked, I had been crudely teased by a fleeting beach visit, and my vehicular safety was clearly compromised. However much I wanted to display these emotions and just engage them in a lengthy shouting match, I could not, as after all, they had just taken their time and spent decent gas money showing me their favorite beach on a gorgeous day. It clearly did not register with them that a gringo reunion (which I sorely needed at the time) could possibly trump a one hour car trip to see a beautiful beach for 30 seconds. And who was I to tell them otherwise?

We finally rolled into town 45 minutes late. Walter, my homestay father, lamented the fact that he was already at empty after having filled up the week prior. "Wow," I wanted to respond, "Big %@*&#* surprise! You were going 140km/hr in an old pickup truck after all!" Fuming with frustration over my violated autonomy and disrespected plans, I rushed to meet the others so I could vent. Fortunately however, I have yet to find a funk that 5 minutes of speaking English can't cure!

Disclaimer: this is an example of Chilean hospitality gone wrong. Many good examples to come!