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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.