So, last night was our first night out as a group. We went to La Piojera, a bar on the north side of Santiago. Like always, my host mother told me to be careful but this time she was absolutely right; this bar was literally the craziest, dirtiest, sketchiest place I have ever been. The amount of people inside definitely exceeded capacity and the floor, what little of it I could see, was covered in used napkins and dirt. Yet good times were had although bad times were to follow.
The Good Times:
If any of us had low self esteem before entering the bar, we came out afterwards incredibly ego-centric. Literally, all of us were approached by at least five men who had no qualms about flirting with us mercilessly which included telling us how beautiful we are and touching our hair. As we circled around the crowded bar, one guy playfully told me I could not pass until I gave him a kiss. There was a woman there selling earrings and another guy offered to buy my friend Christina a pair or two or three even (he was extremely curado (Chilean slang for borracho, or drunk). The best by far though was the guy who approached Victoria, he asked for her name and upon answering, told her his name was Victor and offered his ID as proof. They had a short conversation and then he asked the palayo (clown, yes, there was a clown there, though I promise you it was not a children's birthday party) to make her balloons. She ended up walking away with a flower, a heart and a pink poodle. So, was it fate? Are they soulmates? It became pretty clear that this was not the case when three minutes later he asked her to come home with him...we skidaddled soon after.
The Bad Times:
Although the night started off entertaining, it ended on a rather sour note. During the course of the evening, four fist fights broke out, three of which were right in front of my face and one of which occurred on the street, complete with stray dogs jumping on top of the wrestling men. But worst of all, when we were standing outside la Piojera waiting for a taxi, my friend was robbed. One minute we were standing together and the next, this guy came out of nowhere and ripped her purse right off of her body and booked it down the street before any of us could react. Thankfully she only lost some cash and her debit card (which she then cancelled) but the experience was still traumatizing for her and the rest of us as well.
So, needless to say, we were all feeling pretty crummy after that. We went home in taxis which cost WAY too much money and tonight I don't think I'm the only one who is passing on going out. I know it is an isolated incident and won't happen everytime we go out but I think I'll wait until next weekend before I once again venture out into the night.
Well, clearly this bad situation didn't remind me of any of you so my shout-out is not related to the majority of this post. But I have been thinking of Cameron Jacoby the last few days since my host brother has become a FANATIC of the song "Down" and literally listens to it (or rather plays it loud for the entire house to hear) conservatively thirty times a day. Everytime I hear it, I have a clandestine dance party and wish you were here.