Chile: the economics of colectivos

The form of transit least recognizable to Americans here is the colectivo, an armada of small black Japanese-made sedans that drive a route just like a bus would, except it's a car. They're more expensive than the bus, up to 300% more if you take them from one end of their route to the other, but they tend to be faster and more comfortable, especially if you're carrying a bunch of stuff to stash in the trunk.

The colectivos are usually modified on the inside in ways I'm used to from riceboys back home, often with tachyometers, funky lights, steering wheel covers, and the windshield-washer switch re-purposed for an attention-getting electronic siren that's quieter and less obnoxious than the horn. Most have a designer fire extinguisher glued onto the passenger side of the windshield. One guy last night had lines and lines of blue LEDs shining right into his face, which was a little unnerving because it made seeing out of the car challenging.

The customization begs the question of who actually owns them. My housemate Steve is a public transit aficionado, so he asked a driver, who said he worked for a company that owns the car. I found that plausible, but unsatisfying.

Luckily, the doorman at school, Salverio, drives a colectivo the rest of the time, and he offered to take me driving around Valparaiso (which was awesome, and I saw some places, especially bad ones, I would never have gone to otherwise). I asked him, and he said that his friend owns the car, and Salverio rents it when his friend isn't working. There are no official companies for the routes, but the city issues licenses for each route.

It seems likely that if Steve understood his driver correctly, there's a company or a co-op that owns the cars, but it sounds like that's just another way to solve the problem of not letting the cars sit idle, since one driver can't maximize usage of the car, what with sleeping and everything. Renting the car out when you're not using it is another solution.

a long night's asado

[asado basically means "grilled", and an asado is a Chilean-style barbecue.]

Bennett's host mom was having an asado for her 50th birthday. At the last minute I decided to go. He lives in Catapilco, which is sort of near Zapallar, maybe, but we didn't really know. He's also not one for detailed communication, so our directions were something like "Take the micro toward La Ligua, get off at La Laguna, do something else, and then get off where there's two fruit stands." What actually happened:

1. Steve and I meet Heather in Viña.
2. After some debate about where this might land us and at what time of day, we get on the micro for La Ligua and ride for well over an hour.
   
3. In Ventanas, where Leigh Ann and Jeremy live, the micro stops. As I'm looking out the window, I realize I'm looking at Bennett, Leigh Ann, and Jeremy all jogging to get on our micro. This helps our confidence considerably, since we're going to Bennett's house.
4. We all get off at La Laguna and wait for the direct micro to Catapilco.
5. When it comes, Brandy and Carol are already on it.
   

We probably reinforced any stereotypes that the gringos all know each other.

Corrie was already at Bennett's house, and I felt a little weird about throwing a horde of gringos at his mom's birthday party. We rivaled the family for size: 10 of us, maybe 17 of them. I think it was Brandy who reminded us that while it was a big reunion for us, it was Rudy's birthday and we should keep that in mind.

I finally had chorripan! This is just grilled chorizo on a certain kind of roll, with optional toppings; the chorizo with the salty bread here somehow makes it unthinkably delicious. Then a bunch of other food, and then we discovered the difficulty in going to a party at a tiny house with a lot of people out in the country where you can't go home: Chileans very casually stay up incredibly late, and if you want to separate yourself from the party early, you're probably out of luck. I dozed a bit sitting upright outside on the patio, then around 2 AM I crawled onto Bennett's bed with a few other people, and then finally around 4:30 or so, the family started thinking about clearing out places for people to sleep. They were all down by 5 AM, and I slept a fine sleep until 8:30 or so. By 9, Heather and Leigh Ann and I were on our way out to the micro stop, and I reached Valparaiso around 11.

I can't take too many more of that kind of weekend, unfortunately.

aquí hablamos gringo

Dinner tonight at California Cantina, one of just a few Mexican restaurants in Santiago, and one of the gringo bars. This was partly Corrie's idea, since Baylor played in the NCAA basketball championship tonight and she wanted to watch. I'd forgotten it was a gringo bar, but I walked in, headed to the back room to scout out space for 10 people. I said, "Podemos sentarnos aquí?", and the waitress said in perfect American English, "Sure. How many are you guys?". Turns out she's 18ish, from Bakersfield.

(Baylor beat St. Mary's, but that was a blowout and they were showing the Tennessee-Ohio State game, which went right down to the wire. We decided to root for Tennessee, since they seemed like the underdogs. And they won, which was very exciting. I'm sure the several pitchers of beer had nothing to do with it.)

I had a California-size California-style vegetarian burrito, and almost immediately realized I needed to leave before I passed out. I paid up and left, wandered up and down the street a bit, had a rather expensive but satisfying donut at Dunkin' Donuts, and finally asked directions to the Metro station. Turns out it closes at 11, so I wandered some more, in and out the endless side streets full of bars and clubs (this is in the Providencia district, which is sort of the hip happening clubby place). A taxi would have been easy, but what fun is that? I asked for help from a lady at the bus stop and managed to get on a bus that dropped me on the Alameda--whose official name is La Avenida Libertador Bernardo O'Higgins, in honor of Chile's hero of independence.

I did get sidetracked into a conversation with one of the hotel guys, and then Allyson appeared with a couple of the volunteers from last year. I'm not pleased with the level of my Spanish right now, but I'm also not working very hard to change it, and it's tricky when I'm spending all my time speaking English with the volunteers.

Not all of my colleagues were willing to try the bus alone at night; it's interesting to see what I'm willing to do, between the Spanish, being male, and having some martial arts training. I have to be careful, too: remember that I'm not bulletproof or knifeproof. I'm just paying attention.

why you shouldn't start fights with people

This is a video of a fight on the East Bay's AC Transit. There's blood, but no one gets maimed or killed. There are so many moments of human failure and lameness that I feel compelled to write them down.

• Epic Beard Guy (as we'll call him, following this video) doesn't seem very nice, and quite possibly did say something racist.
• Black Guy views violence, or the threat of violence, as the correct response to someone being a jerk.
• Epic Beard Guy is a jerk.
  
• Black Guy seems to get lost in his self-image and does not properly consider that a very large enraged white man might be able to fight effectively.
  
• The black woman recording the video says "Beat the shit out of the white boy!", but when Black Guy starts losing, shouts "Stop hitting him!".
• Black Guy, bleeding profusely, says "Imma fuck you up" to the guy who just beat the crap out of him.
• The woman recording the video steals Epic Beard Guy's bag that he left behind on the bus. What the hell?
  

Classy people.