a peanut butter story

There is no peanut butter in Chile. Apparently you can buy it in some special grocery stores, though, because my host mom bought some before I arrived. "This is the special butter that the gringos like!" she told me. "I thought you would want some!"

So every single night when we have tea and bread, she pulls out the peanut butter for me. I usually pass because there are so many other delicious Chilean things to put on my bread. But tonight, two of my host aunts were over, and they were fascinated by the unfamiliar jar.

They bombarded me with peanut butter questions: "What IS this? Do they mix butter with peanuts? What do you put it on? Where do you get this? Does every gringo eat this?" I tried to explain that it's just made out of peanuts and we like to eat it with jelly, which seemed to confuse them further. (IMPORTANT SIDE NOTE: "preservativo" does not equal jam. It means condom. If you're trying to say jam or jelly, use "marmelada" insetad.)

Finally, we all broke out spoons and ate peanut butter straight from the jar. And after they each tried it and determined that it was in fact an okay thing to eat, the conversation moved to angels and miracles and the hand of God and other intensely Catholic things.

Sometimes I can't even believe the things that happen when you're an exchange student.