The Patron Saint is a Serial Killer

15/10/08
Right now we are in the midst of the 2010 World Cup Qualifying games. Even though most people in the United States are unaware, it’s gigantic here. Chile is definitely not the most athletic country. In the last Olympics, for example, Chile brought home one gold medal. Out of all the soccer games I’ve watched here, they have only one once and that also is the only game in which they have scored a goal. On Wednesday, Chile had a qualifying game against Argentina, a team that Chile hadn’t beaten in thirty five years, and, I think, in the history of any World Cup game. Of course, this is the game we chose to go to. We took a bus into Santiago and parked about a 20 minute walk from the grounds of the stadium. The streets were mobbed with people walking from all directions converging on the stadium. Every person wears red to the stadium, so it almost gave the appearance of a tide of blood sweeping through the streets. Vendors were lined up everywhere selling Chilean flags, bootleg jerseys, and various versions of meat on bread. To actually get into the stadium we had to cross through about 5 different gates, although we only had our tickets checked each time, never any security like in American stadiums. By the time we actually got in, about an hour before the game started, our section, the gallery, was completely packed. Somehow we managed to grab four seats about 10 rows up in-between the goal and the corner. That’s when we started to yell. I learned that in a soccer game here, there is no down-time for the fans, we don’t get subs, we don’t get half-time or even a chance to warm up. You arrive, draped in a Chilean flag, and immediately begin screaming at the top of your lungs various chants (most of them extremely lewd and directed at the opposing team). People are throwing around dolls clothed in Argentinean jerseys, and little pieces of paper and confetti that were being sold in the street have already dusted the stadium like snow. At last the game starts, and then the real fun begins. For the first half, we are sitting behind the Argentinean goal, watching the Chilean offense at work. The entire crowd cheers as one red, twisting and bobbing body. Every time that Chile brings the ball up within 40 meters of the Argentinean goal, everybody gets to their feet and somehow begin to yell even louder. Chile is completely controlling the game, and has already had many near goals in the first half. Finally, after what seems like ages, the perfect cross comes in, and the ball is placed neatly in the corner of the net, a waist-high bullet, just out of reach of the Argentinean goalie. The stadium erupts. We hug strangers. Jump. Scream. People around us begin to pull out smuggled fireworks and set them off in the stands. The air becomes thick with smoke, confetti, and beer. The celebration lasts for ages, and everybody misses the next few minutes of play. The rest of the game passes the same, and I begin to lose my voice. With 10 minutes left, and Chile still up 1-0, people begin get nervous. I’m sitting next to my cousin, who is listening to the game broadcast on the radio because there is no announcer or scoreboard, and every 30 seconds someone around us asks him how much time remains in the game. Chile manages to hold on to the end, and once again, the stadium begins to shake. Simultaneously, hundreds of people light newspapers on fire and carry them around as torches. We stay there and continue to sing for another 15 minutes at least, and then begin the long trip back to Valparaíso.
We get back and haven’t eaten anything since lunch and it is now 1am. There is a place by my house that we have nicknamed Diagon Alley. On an unremarkable street, lined with the usual internet stores and pharmacies (which is where all atm’s are located), a narrow corridor branches off heading towards the cerros. Its walls are a faded yellow, although most of the paint has now chipped off or been covered by graffiti. Many banners hang from the walls, most of them little Chilean flags strung up. At the end of the corridor there is a restaurant that specializes in selling chorrillana (French fries covered in onions and shredded beef served with hot sauce and bread). This particular restaurant won the chorrillana competition this past year. It is an old establishment with many cool pictures on the wall and relics of the city, but the best part about it, are the tables and walls. Everybody that comes to the restaurant writes on either the tables or walls, so while you eat you can read the table and little blurbs of what people in the past have written. I write, “Pepe was here.”

16/10/08
In the early afternoon, we met up with our really cool Spanish teacher. He had agreed to take us and show us some cool places in Valpo, and his chosen destination: a cemetery. We took a micro out to an older, poorer section of the city and got off at the cemetery. I feel like this cemetery best portrays the characteristics of Valpo. First, it is divided quite obviously by social class. The rich in front with large house-like structures surrounding their tombs, the middle class next, coffins placed in a mausoleum style, and, finally, the lower class, scattered across a field marked by crosses and colorful displays of flowers and flags of soccer teams. The first tomb he took us to was of an Italian immigrant who had arrived in Chile in the 20th century extremely poor and immediately started earning lots and lots of money. However, he only accomplished this through making a pact with the devil. The pact being that he would be extremely successful during his life, but that once his corpse was in the ground, his soul would belong to the devil for eternity. However, being a clever man, his tomb rests a full foot above the ground, propped up by four large stone lion’s feet. Next, we walked by the large private buildings housing members of different churches, naval groups, retirement groups, and, of course, fans of local soccer teams. Eventually we came to the grave of Emile Dubois, the patron saint of Valpo. Emile Dubois was a Frenchman who lived in Valpo at the beginning of the 20th century (I think). He was also a convicted serial killer in Valpo. There are two legends as to how he came about being a saint. Throughout his entire life he denied having killed anyone, so the first legend states that upon being executed at the age of 25ish, he became a saint for having been killed unjustly. The other camp insists, however, that he did indeed kill all those people during his life and that he was made a saint and told to watch over the city in his afterlife to atone for all the wrongs he had committed. His tomb lies underground in the corner of the cemetery next to a wall that the locals keep knocking down so that they can cut through the cemetery without having to walk around. A palm tree grows next to his grave, and people come to drop off slips of paper with wishes on it so that Emile will answer them. If he does, then ritual has it that you repay him by having a small marble table engraved for him thanking him. Also, according to our teacher, there is a small stash of money hidden somewhere in the area, and that if you are ever in need of money you withdraw what you need, and whenever you can afford it, you pay it back. Finally, although we couldn’t find it, we looked for the grave of a suspected vampire. Apparently one person buried in the cemetery is a vampire that comes out at night and kills local townspeople, and because of this, his tomb is padlocked and has a chain around it.


Tomorrow I leave for the South for two weeks. I will be living with a Mapuche family. The Mapuche are one of the groups indigenous to Chile. Not exactly sure how updates will be working, but I will do what I can, but it could be a while before anything gets posted. It’s bizarre to think that I am already leaving for the excursion, and that when I come back I will begin work on my independent study project. I’ll miss the little things about Valpo over the next two weeks, like how on my way back I saw a kid playing soccer against a dog in the street with an empty coke can. At the same time, however, I am very excited to study the Mapuche and learn about their completely different and unique culture. For now, with little certainty, so long, and hope everybody reading this is doing well.