Marquito helped me into his cousin's car and introduced me to his cousin, Tute, and his brother, Pelayo. We picked up some supplies for an asado. I spent the evening in Tute's backyard with the three boys, bantering and listening to them tease each other. Marquito drank a lot of wine and started playing Chilean songs for me and singing along. He's studying to be a chef, so the asado, which consisted of pork ribs and beef with a vegetable-shrimp topping, was superb.
Saturday morning (around 1 pm?) after my shower Marquito took me off to meet some friends and get lunch. He's pretty involved in his church, which is a sort of surprising contrast to his normal Friday-night behavior. In the parish a bunch of college-aged kids were playing music and setting up for some sort of festivity. I met the guitar player and the sax player and the singer and Marquito's best friend, Carolina, who seemed to be in charge. I haven't really spent time with Chileans on my own, without a buffer of gringos, and it was neat.
We had pizza and Carolina fixed me a fanchop - a beer with Fanta, which was surprisingly okay. Marquito and Carolina seemed to be getting into a conversation that I wouldn't understand, so I retreated to Pelayo's room for some tv. I think I fell asleep for a while, but a few hours later Marquito retrieved me for an asado at the parish. This guy is crazy about beef.
I really enjoyed being around so many young people, but Pelayo and I mostly hung back during the asado because we didn't really know anyone. The sax player (David, maybe?) kept us company for a while. A while later we all headed home for some piscolitas and I got to know a few of them a little better. Actually, they mostly grilled me and I didn't have a whole lot of time to ask questions, but you can learn about other people in that sort of conversation, too. Marquito kept calling me "la gringa," as in, "oh yeah, the gringa and I went to Con Con last weekend." Pelayo told him to knock it off because it was offensive to treat me like an object, but I think he meant it endearingly.
As we got into the conversation there are some things that stand out. Marquito is a Catholic, and I don't think he knows what Protestant means. He asked me if we believe in the saints and I said we don't celebrate them. He asked me if we believe in the Virgin and I said I don't know anything about it. He asked if we believe in Jesus and that was a little surprising. I tried to sort things out for him. The guys kept calling each other gay, and I mentioned to Pelayo, who seems a little more level-headed, that gay is a normal thing in the U.S.A. They told me they don't like gay people and I told them that it's hard for me to understand how they don't. I tried to approach it from a cultural-difference perspective, rather than a moral one; it wasn't really the right setting for that conversation.
Sunday morning was lazy until lunch with Marquito's parents. We watched a little futbol afterward until Pelayo took me to the bus station. It was a long trip home, but so relieving to get back to my own bed. It's funny how much more comfortable I feel in Chile than I did in Argentina. I could be just making it up, but Chile is starting to feel like home.
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