Are you ready for some fútbol?

I went to a South American soccer game Saturday. This is less exciting than it sounds. Most Chileans follow one of two soccer clubs--Colo Colo or Universidad de Chile. When they play in Santiago every year, it's what most Americans think of when they think of soccer in South America: outrageous crowds, small fires sent in stands, street urchins in Drogba jerseys stabbing opposing fans, cheap and abundant alcohol; in short, a lot of fun.

Chileans, though, love to talk about soccer. In general, the country is a lot better at talking about sports than they are at playing them--much like me in high school. The national side had a better-than-expected showing in this year's World Cup, so people are still talking about it, wearing t-shirts, and  selling tourists jerseys. Also, the country hosted and finished third in the 1962 World Cup, and people down here are quick to brag about that, regardless of how long ago it actually happened. As an Ole Miss fan, I can totally relate.

The local Viña team is Everton, because it was founded, like many South American soccer clubs, by Europeans.  Valparaíso's team is the Santiago Wanderers, because their teams founders evidently like geographic confusion and homages to one of the worst teams in the English Premier League (the Bolton Wanderers, for those of you keeping score at home.) Saturday, Everton de Viña del Mar was playing San Luis Quillota. If world soccer was represented by NCAA football, I would have watched North Texas host Coastal Carolina. In September. The announced crowd was right over 3000, but I have a feeling they included players, stadium employees, and the radio audience in their estimate. Here's a picture of the fun part of the crowd:

Please note the "L" in the top right hand corner. Sketchy. We originally bought tickets for this area, but managed to sit on the front row in the middle of the field. Sometimes, smiling, and having blond hair and an American accent pays off. Here's some of the on-field action:

It looks way too much like a high school soccer game. It was a little tough to watch, too. Both teams made up for a scoreless first half by scoring early in the second half. After the 1-1 tie, neither team could complete a pass or take a wise shot at the goal. I'm not going to claim that I understood everything that the fans were yelling at the players, but sometimes it's nice to know that even with all of our cultural differences, frustration is still a universal language. 

Más rojo que ketchup: A late-night food hierarchy

The Chilean time-frame is different than ours. There's no way around that. Lunch is usually over around 4:00, and if you're nightlife inclined, don't expect to show up anywhere before midnight, or to leave anywhere before about 3:30. This leaves a pretty significant gap between meal times, and if you're not careful, you can end up very hungry. Thankfully, there are several options. The following is the hierarchy of food choices, starting from cheapest to most expensive:

1. The sopaipilla (~100 pesos, or less than 20 cents):

• Pros: cheap, readily available, sort of like a beignet
• Cons: cheap because they're not good and not filling, like a bad beignet 

2. Meat on a Stick (250 pesos, or about 40-50 cents):

 Basically a Third-World version of Chicken on a Stick, this is exactly what it sounds like. It's more or less a vegetable-less kebab cooked on the street over a knock-off Weber charcoal grill. Can be okay, but probably won't be.

• Pros: cheap, meat on a stick is usually not bad
• Loss of self-respect because you look like a caveman eating one

3. The Completo (600 pesos, or about $1.15):

This is Chile's most famous food. It's a gigantic hot dog inside of a loaf of french bread, covered with avocado, mayonnaise, ketchup, mustard, salsa, and onion. It is huge and awesome, and it's the one thing that just about everybody in the country enjoys.

• Pros: Tastes fantastic
• Cons: Occasionally messy

4. The Churrasco (1000-1200 pesos, or $2-$2.25): 

This is the Cadillac of sandwiches. It's an awesome hamburger bun lightly toasted and served with different kinds of meats, cheeses, avocado, peppers, and onions--think of it as a cross between a Philly Cheesesteak, a hamburger, and a Po' Boy.

• Pros: Just look at this thing:

• Cons: expensive (for Chile)

The Cadillac of late night is kind of rare to find in the wild. We were taken by some Chileans to the best dinner place in Valparaíso, which is a truck that's only open on Friday nights at one specific intersection. It's owned by Compañero Yuri, a local Communist sandwich maker, library owner, artist, and Salvador Allende fan. He describes himself as "redder than ketchup" (side note: Allende was a Socialist president overthrown in a US-backed coup led by Augusto Pinochet in 1973. Allende died during the coup, and Pinochet ruled for 17 years. Sort of a sore subject down here.) This is Compañero Yuri and his truck (he's the one on the right in the beret):

All of the sandwiches are named after Communist leaders and Chilean leftists. I had the Trotsky, which was beef, avocado, cheese, and tomato. No word yet on whether I'm going to be stabbed to death with an ice pick in Frida Kahlo's house in Mexico City too, but I might lay low for a while. And I felt bad about supporting communism, but since he's actively engaged in the free market selling sandwiches, I figure he's pretty harmless. Either way, though, I probably need to vote Republican just to even out. 

Skiing, or Why My Body Hurts Everywhere

I went skiing for the first time Saturday. I'm probably a little behind the rest of my friends/ people in the United States when it comes to skiing experience.  So when I got the opportunity to go skiing in Farrellones, Chile for 40 luca ($80), and in keeping with my unbreakable tradition of making impulsive decisions, I jumped on it. My instructions were appropriately sketchy: I was to have the money with me in cash, and meet outside of Cafe Journal (a popular expat bar) at 5:30 a.m. When I got there and didn't get mugged/raped/killed my group was slightly less diverse than the United Nations. Two Americans--me and a girl from Charleston, four Chileans, three French people, a German, and a girl from Finland, and led by an awesome black dude from London. I felt like I was in a Guy Ritchie movie.

When googling "snatch," it's best to have safe search turned on.

Part of the reason that I signed on to the trip was that it was mainly for beginner skiers. Some of the group was, but the countries like Germany and Finland tend to have a lot of mountains and see a lot of snow. So I went to the beginner class with some elementary school kids while my group skied off like Lindsey Vonn towards a photo shoot. And by "ski class" I mean generally flat area where people fall down and get yelled at.  My instructor was kind enough to show me how to go forwards and then leave me alone for the next six or seven hours to figure things out on my own. I learned one thing from my first few runs, and that is what I lack in control, I make up for in speed. I'm like Ricky Bobby out there. This also allows for some spectacular crashes. Several times I could have passed for the guy they show during the Wide World of Sports "Agony of Defeat" segment:

I crashed into the same guy on the same run twice--which is a surprisingly effective way to get to know someone. I crashed into a pole, I crashed into a safety net, I tripped over my own skis. Once I accidentally ended up on the advanced course, which I handled well until I hit the jump. In spite of all of this, I eventually figured it out, and can now manage to go down a bunny slope at a reasonable speed and sufficient control. This is the area where I skied:

Shortly after this picture was taken, I crashed into each and every one of these people.

You can kind of make out a city in the distance. That's Santiago.

Despite my inadequacies, I really did enjoy this. In a few days my knee will feel better and my bruises will go away, and I'd definitely be down to do it again. 

Where am I?

I keep thinking this at random intervals throughout my trip down here. It's at strange times, like when I'm standing on a beach but it's 40 degrees, or when I spent my Wednesday night drinking Escudo and talking about grilling (not actually grilling, just discussing it) with a 60 year old Chilean man. I've also tried to follow the Anthony Bourdain/ Three Sheets trail down here, and have successfully located the location where Zane Lamprey tries to make a Pisco Sour. And I'm sorry if you don't watch that show; it's on Hulu, get to work. This place:

The cat comes with your meal

But, in a more practical sense, things are going pretty well here. Classes seem easy so far, and I don't have anything on Fridays. So basically, it's freshman year at Ole Miss again.