Fiestas Patrias

By the time I had decided the clamoring of pots and pans only feet away from my bedroom was enough to rouse me out of sleep, it was already after 1:00 PM and most of my extended Chilean family had arrived at the house for the September 18th Independence Day barbeque. I rose wearily and staggered, as one might after attending $100 Chilean Peso (Roughly $0.20 USD) Piscola night at "Goose," a multi-level discotheque only walking distance from Viña del Mar's downtown Plaza. The truth is, the entire week leading up to September 18th is the reason the holiday is pluralized in Spanish; every night of the week is a night out to the countless Ramadas (Provincial carnivals) in every small neighborhood tucked away in Valparaíso's hills, then afterwards, only at 2:00 or 3:00 AM, to a club for live Salsa and Merengue or a discotheque for Reggeton.


After quickly washing up and dressing, I walked through the kitchen to the outdoor patio (Converted from the garage setting that usually occupies the small concrete plot) but which now revealed aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, and even older, unknown to me, siblings. And, oh yeah, more food en route to hungry stomachs than I had seen in my time here: Grilled ribs, steak, chicken, empanadas, and of course, choripán (A Chilean staple most roughly translated to hot-Italian sausage), not to mention the salads, potatoes, and pastas that lined a banquet-style plastic table draped in green tarping.

Everyone had already been outside for more than an hour, listening to Cueca music (Chile's national dance) eating appetizers, drinking Chicha (A home- fermented fruit wine, brought by an Aunt who had brewed it in a clay urn for a year's time) and enjoying their holiday in the sunshine. The meal was full of laughs and conversation, and of course, the occasional question from me, asking for clarification on a word's meaning or pronunciation. After everyone was satisfied with their newly acquired Thanksgiving-esque, post-meal discomfort, we began to clear the table only to forget our task and continue talking hours longer into the late afternoon. 


My youngest Chilean sister, Leslie, 18, had invited a friend who brought his guitar, more than likely with the intention of playing more Cueca music, but instead, began sharing the English pop-songs he knew with me. Before long, I sat armed with guitar, in front of the entirety of the party, wondering what my gift in return could possibly be. After fooling around for a little bit with Santana excerpts and blues riffs, I knew the crowd wouldn't be happy until I played something with which they could sing along. Turns out, Chileans are quite familiar with Dispatch, and I felt like I was somewhere between a psychedelic episode and the twilight zone; never could I have imagined I'd ever be sitting somewhere in South America, playing guitar, surrounded by little more than complete strangers, all singing the words to "The General" on Chilean Independence day. 

The middle-most of my Chilean brothers, also Alex, 24, had made mention of the 18th as a night out not to miss, so when I accepted his invitation to accompany him and his friends that evening, I knew I was in store for an authentic Independence Day, from beginning to end (whenever that would be). As I would come to find, that end was 8:30 AM, curled on the couch of an apartment in a beach-town called Reñaca, 15 Km northeast of Valparaíso. 


So maybe it was the sleep deprivation, or just the general disorientation I was experiencing, but I got to thinking. What are the things that bring people together? Is it food? Music? Alcohol? Sure, these different activities, sitting down at the table for lunch, going to a concert, or going out clubbing, literally bring people to the same physical spaces. But is it as simple as that? Is there something about the food, the notes, the wine, that helps create the bonds I felt forming on September 18th (And, sure, a good part of the 19th as well)?


After taking some time mulling it over, what I concluded that it was none of these things, and all of these things, that bring people together. As humans, we're hard-wired to crave connections, to be loving, to be intimate. Why else would things like "Book Clubs" exist, when one could just as easily read on his or her own time? Or fraternities and sororities? Or camps?

Like everything else in the world, family meals and music venues and local bars are just human creations, and just microcosms, that sometimes hide the true reason for their existence; We just want to live our lives, in every waking (and, sleeping) moment possible, in the shared, divine experience of being in the company of others.

All in all, happy Fiestas Patrias.