A Gringa in Chile

Growing up as a teenage “gringa” girl in South America sometimes means growing up with an inflated sense of ego.

You see, everywhere you go, you stick out. It might be your white skin, your blond hair, or your blue eyes. But the result is that receiving (and trying to ignore) catcalls becomes almost a daily part of your existence.

“Ay, mijita ricaaaa … mira la huachita linda … mira la rusia ... dame un besito linda” are just a few of the comments that might follow you as you walk down the street. The comments are bearable; it’s the other kind of attention –having some gross guy press up against you in the crowded bus or subway, getting your backside pinched without warning (no, I am not making this stuff up!) or worse – that makes for some unhappy memories at times.

Anyway, in my case I thought I could safely say: That was then, this is now! I am a happily married mother of three (soon to be five!) and no longer an object of unwanted attention – not that I ever was to the extent of my fairer, blonder friends (it was more guilt by association, I think!)

But on Friday, I found myself riding a pleasantly half-empty Metro on my way downtown. There were plenty of seats available (which is a rare treat) so I was somewhat surprised when a man chose to stand right next to where I was sitting. I was also somewhat uncomfortable that he chose to hang onto the railing facing me (almost leaning over me) instead of facing away – an unspoken, but polite rule of public transportation conduct in my opinion! But, I pretended not to notice and decided to just enjoy my few minutes of peace and quiet.

Only a minute or two went by before he asked me what time it was. I showed him my watch and then looked away, thinking the conversation was over. I wish! Next, he asked me if I was going downtown to work. Not wanting to encourage the conversation, I just said “No, for paperwork” and left it at that. “Oh, yes, everyone has trámites,” he responded. Then he added, “I prefer to stand rather than sit,” as if he was reading my not-so-friendly thoughts towards him at the moment and felt the need to explain himself!

“You’re not Chilean, you’re an extranjera?” he asked next. “Yes, a foreigner but I’ve lived all my life here,” I replied. “Are your parents foreigners?” “Yes, but they’ve lived here, too.” And so the conversation continued.

He told me that he wanted to leave Chile and move to a foreign country. I couldn’t help but ask why, but didn’t really understand his response. I simply pointed out that there are many countries worse off, and that led him to ask if I had visited any other countries. I said yes, and told him which ones. (Though it sounds like we had a friendly conversation, I have to point out that I did not make eye contact with him this entire time. I was trying to say with my body language what I was too polite to say verbally: Leave me alone, please!)

“Oh, and did you travel with your parents?” he asked with curiosity. Suddenly a light came on and I realized he was probing to see if I was single! I sensed my opportunity and seized it. “No, with my husband,” I replied politely but pointedly. He seemed to feel like he should say something more, so he asked me what my husband did for a living. I replied that my husband was a teacher … and it wasn’t but two seconds later that the guy suddenly decided that he didn’t prefer standing to sitting and excused himself to find a chair!

My husband got a good laugh over my story of the guy trying to pick up his wife on the Metro. He said, “you’ve still got it!” to which my reply is yes, I’ve still got what I always had … that guy thought I was his ticket out of here ... because I’m still just a "gringa in Chile!”