A brush with the law and an "underworld" experience

I arrived in Chile at a time when the country was receiving very bad press around the world because of the military take-over of its government led by General Agosto Pinochet.

The story of Sheila Cassidy, an English doctor who had been reportedly tortured for having attended to the medical needs of some opponents of the government was still fresh in the minds of my parents and they had begged me not to go to Chile. I didn't listen to their pleadings because while I was heading south through Central America and the northern parts of South America I had been getting first-hand reports from other travelers I had met who had just recently come from Chile. All of them simply found Chile the best of all places to visit.

My journey from Arica in the north to Santiago had been pleasant and interesting. After I arrived in Santiago I got settled into the Pension Santo Domingo in the downtown area and started to explore the city. I soon discovered that there were a group of young people who frequented the city's main square with the express purpose of meeting foreign travelers who always seemed to gravitate to this location at some time during their stay.

One night I accompanied three new Chilean friends (two girls and a guy) to a popular central drinking place where we consumed a considerable quantity of either beer or chicha (sweet, newly fermented grape juice) until we were all feeling in very high spirits

At that time the country was still subject to a curfew which required everyone to be off the streets by midnight or one, so the place closed and we were walking back to the center, arms around each other's shoulders, swaggering down the street and singing some catchy Chilean folk song that they had taught me earlier that evening.

We turned a corner and were confronted with a Carabiñero (the name of the Chilean police) who didn't approve of our conduct. I was still very new at Spanish and could only understand a fraction of what was said but judging from his tone of voice and the later explanations of my companions we were very politely told that if we didn't want to get into further trouble "You should try to sing a little more quietly and to walk a little more straight!"

In all of several years of living in and visiting Chile at different times during the military rule this is the WORST encounter I have ever personally experienced with Chilean authorities. This is not to say that I have not heard other accounts, some of which were extremely horrendous, but my own experience simply does not include any of this nature.

I did have an "underworld" experience, however, which started one day at my lodgings when I decided to get some of my clothes laundered.

Up til then I had usually made arrangements with a chambermaid when I was staying but when I asked this day I was told that this wouldn't be possible. I inquired at the desk and the manager told me that I'd have to take my laundry out. I asked where I could take it and he gave me some quick directions (in Spanish) which I only partially understood. He spoke so quickly and in such a way that gave me the impression that I was bothering him by even asking. I packed up my dirty laundry and headed for the street.

After about two hours of walking and searching I finally found a place that looked like a commercial laundry. I asked a young woman at the service desk if I could leave my laundry and was informed that this place only did bed linen and towels. When I asked where I might go, again I was told in a way that made me believe that I was being a bother and so I didn't ask clarification on the directions.

I went through this kid of experience two or three times more, each time separated by long periods of walking when I finally came upon a place which had a price list posted on the wall for almost all of the items which I carried in my bundle. My feet were aching and my shoulders were sore from lugging my bundle all over the city. I approached the counter and asked the girl if they could do my laundry.

She smiled and said, of course, so I opened the package and one-by-one she took out each item and entered it on the order sheet. As she was doing this she gingerly picked up a pair of undershorts from the bundle and, laughing and waving them for everyone to see, even went to the back of the shop to show her workmates back there. She returned, still laughing and informed me that: "We don't do these here!" I don't think I have ever felt as humiliated and frustrated as I felt at that moment.

So my underwear, together with a pair of socks which they also didn't do, were returned to my newspaper and re-wrapped for me to take with me. As I drug my tired body and wounded soul back to my pension, I walked along a parallel street and just one block from where I had started about 5 hours earlier discovered a laundry that displayed a sign listing EVERYTHING I wished laundered including shorts and socks. I took my tiny bundle in and opened it up on the counter, relieved at finally finding someplace to wash the remainder. The lady who came to attend me looked at my belongings and said that while she would ordinarily be happy to wash such items, my order (2 pair of shorts and 1 pair of socks) was far too small to take in.

The underlying point of all this experience is that Chilean Spanish is usually difficult for a beginner to understand. Chileans speak very rapidly and are infamous for clipping off the ends of their words. The impression a foreigner may get is that they are hurried and bothered when you ask questions or need directions. Actually the contrary is true: Chileans usually love to stop and chat and will often go far out of their way to help a stranger, especially if they sense that you are trying to speak their language. The up-side of this pecularity with Chilean Spanish is that if a novice succeeds in understanding this variety of the language, there's hardly anyone in any country you will have difficulty understanding. From my personal experience I believe the benefits are well worth the effort.