My Cultural Deep End

On Wednesday my aunt and I traveled to the remote Mapuche community of Trilawapi, (don’t hold me to that spelling), to help women from the last of the three weaving groups in the area. This community is located in one of the most beautiful places I have ever been. They are in the heart of the Andes mountains at the foot of a volcano. My aunt warned me that these people were extremely poor, but very hospitable. Anytime you visit a Mapuche home they are insistent on feeding you. Depending on their situation, this could range from a little meat to a huge plate of rice with a hot dog or egg on top. If we do get meat in a Mapuche home then we more than likely got their meat for the month. Regardless of what they put in front of you though, you have to eat it. There was a fair chance we would get meat on this visit though because a pack of pumas had come down from the higher mountains and killed, not eaten, but killed a herd of sheep in the community. They owners didn’t have a choice but to divide the sheep between the rest of the families.

The roads in this area are nearly impassible by car and so we had to park at the top of a very large hill and hike down to the house. When I say hike, I mean that for the first half we were practically sliding down on our behinds it was so steep. Our guide took us over several rustic wooden fences and through several small fields. We got to the house, which by North American standards would be a run down shed, sat down at the table, and our guide, Tomas, offered us some chicha, (apple cider). Now, there are two kinds of chicha. There is chicha dulce, (sweet apple cider), and chicha fuerte, (hard apple cider). He didn’t mention what kind it was, nor did we think to ask, but he poured us two large glasses. I was a little wary to drink mine, but my aunt all but chugged hers. When I saw she was fine, I took a gulp and did my very best not to make a lemony pucker face. Not only was it rather tart, but it was also well on its way to fuerte. I managed to get my first glass down and, for reasons still unknown to me, accepted when Tomas offered to refill our glasses. We took our time with this glass, and when we finished we notice something. You see, it was about 3:00 in the afternoon and neither of us had eaten since breakfast at 9 that morning. We drank two glasses of chicha fuerte on completely empty stomachs. My head was just slightly spinning.

When lunch came, sure enough, we all had a piece of lamb, a leg of a chicken, and 3 small roasted potatoes. Not to mention tomato salad and a basket of home made bread which had been made just for us. It was a ton of food! Halfway through they brought out the traditional bread of the Mapuche, also made specifically for us, and is evidently very labor intensive. Of course, we had to eat a piece. After lunch, Tomas, one of my uncle’s bee keepers, brought some of the honey he had just harvested. We split another large piece of bread to try the honey. By this time, I was about to pop I was so full. This, plus my lightheadedness from the chicha, led me to start considering what the culturally polite way would be to excuse myself and go throw up. Once we had forced down the bread and honey, wouldn’t you know it but they brought out some corn dumplings! After half an hour, and numerous refusals to drink more chicha, my aunt made a highly sarcastic comment about how they never feed her. Haha! Unfortunately, she had forgotten that sarcasm has not reached Chile, nor the people living in the mountains. Sure enough, 10 minutes later we both had a fried egg sitting in front of us. We were about to be sick already, but somehow managed to swallow that thing.

It was beginning to get dark and we needed to head out because we still had to walk back up the hill to the car. Despite our best efforts to excuse ourselves however, we couldn’t get out of there. They wanted us to stay the night and knew if they just gave us more chicha we wouldn’t be able to get up the hill. At one point, Tomas didn’t even ask, he got out two glasses and asked how much we wanted. My aunt said half a glass, and Tomas complied by filling them to the brim. We were finally able to get out of there just as the sun had gone behind the mountains. Getting up that hill, we were practically running to get up before dark. As soon as we got in the car, we looked at each other and cracked up. Even Barb said that was the worst food experience she had ever had and we were both sick for the rest of the night.