Futbol

Six of us were lucky enough to score tickets to the futbol game between Chile and Ecuador a couple weeks ago, Oct. 14. Chile had already qualified for the World Cup the previous Saturday, but Ecuador had not. It was an important game for Ecuador to win. Furthermore, Argentina and Uruguay were playing against each other that same night, both of them trying to qualify for the World Cup as well. Argentina and Chile were in a close race, so if Chile lost that helps Argentina. So even though Chile had already qualified it was still a game they needed to win.

Jessica and I had purchased our tickets last, so we went to Santiago separate from everyone else. We took the train at 8am on Wednesday, the 14th. It was a pleasant and quiet ride. The attendant in our car was a nice guy, he looked German and spoke some English. Jess and I took to calling him Ruperto. Halfway to Santiago there was some problem with the train tracks, so we had to get off the train, take a bus to the next train station, and get on a second train there. This didn't add much time to the trip, however, and we arrived in Santiago a little after one.

We took the metro to our friend's apartment (Nico, the son of our program coordinator) and did some window shopping while we waited for him on the rest of our group to get back. Once they did we took the elevator up to Nico's apartment, dropped our stuff off, and went right back out the door. First stop was a store to buy jersey's for the game. The four girls got red jersey's, Ryan got a red jacket, and I got a white jersey. Nico handed out our tickets for the game and we took the metro to the stadium. When we got off the metro this is the site that greeted us:

Hundreds of people were there selling flags, shirts, noisemakers, and food. Nico and I each bought a flag, the girls got their faces painted and bought a couple T-shirts, and then we headed toward the stadium. Before we were inside we had to go through the most intense security process I've ever seen. First up, about a 1/4 mile away from the stadium, was this post:

Next up was an entrance similar to gates you'd find in the States, just some event staff checking tickets:

The next two checkpoints I didn't take pictures of, so I'll just describe them. The third was the most serious security point where riot police where patting each person down (they weren't shy about it either). Finally, we entered a checkpoint similar to the first one where a person checked our tickets, we walked through the gate, and then a second person tore our tickets. Quite an ordeal, but we were finally in!

The preocupation with safety in this country has fascinated me since the first few days I was here. I was told that Chile had a more affectionate culture than the United States. I interpereted that to mean that the culture was safer as well, but I've learned that's not the case.

When family members or friends get together it's customary for the women to kiss each other on the cheek. Women kiss all the men on the cheek as well. Men greet each other with a handshake or a bro-hug. Families are especially close. Last night my older sister went out for her Bachelorette party, and my mom and sister both went with her. My sisters frequently sleep in the same room or bed as the parents. So at first glance it seems that Chile does have an affectionate culture. But this warm attitude only extends as far as the front door of the house. Once you step outside it's a completely different story.

People here are extraordinarly distrustful of strangers. My host-mom has explained to me that every time I go out at night she worries about me. I frequently walk to the grocery store about 5 minutes from my house. We live in what I would consider a suburb, on the edge of the main part of Chillan. In our neighborehood we have full time security guards posted at the only entrance to our housing track. The streets are well lit all the way to the store, and there's a high school a block away. Down the highway from the store I go to there is a military base that houses a battalion-sized detachment of the Chilean Army. And yet my mom still worries about my safety.

When Dave and I were in Santiago we stayed at a friend's house. As we were getting ready to go out one day (during daylight hours no less), the mother of the house took David and I aside to explain about safety. When Dave and I had trouble understanding her point she took us into the kitchen, grabbed a knife off the counter, and held it to her own throat to demonstrate what could happen to us. Dave also had a draw-string bag and it took us a few minutes to convince the mother to let us take it. She thought it was a traditional backpack with zippers, and she was telling us that it was unacceptable to go out with it because it would be such an easy target for pick-pockets.

Everywhere I go in Chile I am reminded of the safety-conscious Chilean mind. Almost every house, store, or building has bars on the windows of the bottom floor and fences with spikes, shards of glass, or electric wires. Houses that don't have fences or bars on the windows, like mine, have security guards patrolling the area 24/7. Every store has their own security staff, in part because there is no local law enforcement (Carabineros, the national police, serve as law enforcement, but because they are a part of the federal branch they are more of a presence than a public service). Businesses always have extra gates that they pull down at the close of business each day. Doors on the homes here do not open from the outside without a key. One of the girls in our group can't open the door to her house from the inside without her key.

But before I paint Chileans as complete safety-freaks, it's also become apparent to me that at least some of this is warranted. One of my sisters in my family and my brother have both had cell-phones taken out of their hands while they were talking on them. My brother was standing outside his school in Chillan when his was taken. And last week one of the Chilean students went to Santiago to get her passport to the U.S., and she got drugged and had all of her stuff stolen. She doesn't remember being in Santiago, only the bus ride there and waking up on the bus coming back to Chillan. So while the security measures in Chile sometimes seem excessive, there is a reason they exist.

How does a culture like this develop? Why is the culture in the United States different? These questions have been bouncing around in my mind the whole time I've been here, and I still don't have an answer to them. Perhaps it's not important to answer why things are the way they are. Maybe it's better to understand and adjust than to explain or diagnose the difference as if it's some kind of problem or sickness.

I've come to love Chile and the people here, and I think part of that love is learning how to look past the undesirable parts of a culture. I know that being here has definitely made me appreciate the States and look past the ugly parts of American culture.

People here, in general, respect the United States. It is still seen as a desirable place to go. My host-mom wants her son to spend some time in the States and become fluent in English. Several of the students at my University are going to the United States to work this Winter (their Summer), and those students are considered the lucky ones. I think I am most grateful to Chile for giving me back some of the admiration I had for my country.

Chile did win their match against Ecuador, 1-0. Nothing too crazy happened in celebration that night, though we did happen upon a square where people were climbing statues and flag poles. Up the street from the square, at the entrance to an apartment building, a dozen Carabineros decked-out in riot gear stood guard. I couldn't help but smile. This is Chile.