More on Culture

1.) Security. I live in an upscale district of Santiago. Despite this, every house has a fence with pointy posts, and every fence contains a barking dog. Many windows have bars. When walking down the street, no woman casually throws her purse over one shoulder, and men do not carry their wallets in their back pockets. Instead, purses are grasped tightly, and wallets are put in less-conspicuous places. Friends, neighbors, acquaintances, and even the nice, old woman that walked my same route home from church one Sunday morning have warned me of thieves. Unfortunately, pick-pocketing is an all-too-common problem in this city and many other parts of Chile for that matter.

2.) Dogs. …Make more dogs, which make more dogs, which make more dogs. Strays roam the streets like cattle roam the prairie. Actually, I don’t really know how cattle roam the prairie, but it sounded like a good analogy. Ha! Most seem to be harmless, and one, I joked, was a guardian angel in disguise when it accompanied Sarah and me all the way home one night.

3.) “Little” things. Just about every noun is given the diminutive form in Chile. No one has called me “Michelita” yet, but I’m growing accustomed to everything else being an “ito” or “ita.” In the lab, it works pretty well: a test tube is a “tubito” (little tube), and a beaker is a “vasito” (little cup). But when I’m supposed to measure out “un poquito” (a little amount), that’s when it gets confusing. I measure out very little, taking seriously their diminutive emphasis, but then they usually follow-up with, “pues, un poquito mas” (well, a little more).

4.) Lines. Or perhaps, lack there of. I’ve come to learn that standing back and waiting my turn only means that someone else will step in front of me and push me aside. Be it a store counter or communion at mass, the only way to get something accomplished is to push my way forward with the rest. And I’ve also learned that just because she’s a little, old lady doesn’t mean she can’t push too. In some cases, little, old ladies have been the most aggressive “cutters.”

5.) Check please. No one is ever rushed at a restaurant. Even if the restaurant is busy, wait staff never pressures the customers by bringing them the check. It is only brought when it is requested.

6.) Freeway traffic. As a Californian, I am accustomed to seeing freeway traffic, but on my way to Quillota, I observed traffic of a different sort. First, there were people biking; and worse, there were people walking! The bus that I took made frequent stops – yes, stops on the freeway – to let people off. Yet, I was more appalled by the fact that people were actually crossing the freeway by foot, waiting in the median when traffic was heavy. I don’t want to imagine the fatality statistics.

7.) Bus entertainment. During my hour-long bus ride home from the university, there are usually a hand-full of folks that hop on the bus at traffic lights, with their Styrofoam coolers strapped around their necks, and try to sell ice cream to the passengers. “Mora, lucuma, cherimoya! Cien pesos!” I just keep reading. But one day, a different sort of character joined us instead. That afternoon, an abrupt stop made me look up from my magazine to see a man wearing a huge sombrero and carrying a small boom-box. He chanted some things so quickly that I could not understand, and then he turned on his boom-box to full volume and started singing at the top of his lungs. Seeing musicians play on the streets, in touristy locations, and at restaurants and then pass through the crowd with their hat extended was not a new sight to me; seeing one come on the bus in a sombrero was. I just went back to reading my magazine. But, when the second song – a Latin rendition of Bryan Adams’s “When You Love a Woman” – was echoed throughout the bus, I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing, especially when a quick turn nearly knocked him off his feet! I tried to hide my face in my, magazine so no one would see the humor I was getting out of this. Nonetheless, I give him credit because it takes a lot of nerve to sing in front of a crowd, and despite being out of key, I might have given him something for his efforts when he came around with his sombrero, but I spent my last coin on the bus fair.