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By Bwog Staff on Nov 20, 22 Comments. The bar is called The Library, and its walls are covered in a mural of a bookcase, posters of Alf and a giant portrait of Violeta Parra. So, um, why La Serena? During the first few months I would have told them that I chose to study here because of the beaches, the relative lack of foreign students, the small class sizes in the university, or the tranquil ambiance that hovers over the budding summer destination five hours north of Santiago.
But now, after three months of getting to know this town, I tell them I have no fucking clue. This tends to produce a better reaction from my new acquaintances because disliking La Serena is something they can understand. For the majority of students in this town, Chile is the buttcrack of the world, of which La Serena is a concentrated representation. There is a strange sort of social oppression in this country. I think it all started the night that I had a conversation about sexual orientation with my ex-host-dad, Otto, and the other student boarder in that house, Diego, a Chilean.
The two key points of this conversation are as follows: 1. Otto, a something who works on the administrative side of the Chilean park service, told me that he does not hire someone he suspects of being gay because it is a risk to the other workers, despite the illegality of this type of discrimination in Chile. I refused to tell Diego and Otto my sexual orientation on principal because, I said, my bedroom practices and partners are none of their business. This bugged them for about a week, during which they asked me all sorts of questions to try to get the juicy information out of me — even telling me all of their sexual escapades in an effort to get me to open up.
I started to hate their combination of homophobia and fascination with lesbians. Otto treated me like an idiot most of the time and Diego hit on me, asking me to have threesomes with his girlfriend and encouraging me to try anal sex. But living with them drove me nuts. We women have to stick together in these things. I will never know whether she meant that I should evade the problems or the men, because that night she kicked me out of the house.
Being roomless in La Serena is a great way to make friends. Everyone knows someone with a great story about having to change houses, and everyone wants you to live with them. I was living with a catholic woman, her pig of a husband, their 13 year old daughter who wanted to know everything I would tell her about sex, and Diego, who refused to speak to me after that night when he fed me a half liter of vodka and then forced himself on me. Newspapers and magazines are full of topless women; sex is on TV in all its forms; young people have sex through their clothes in broad daylight in the plazas that dot the city.