Smiling Faces, Open Places and Three-legged Races

I find parks in Santiago absolutely amazing—partially because their beauty and scope stop me in my tracks, but mostly because I just can’t get over how much people utilize their open spaces here. Sure, we have plenty of barren parks with dead grass in Phoenix, but they only seem to get utilized on Sundays when Latinos go to play soccer and have barbeques. Here it’s a totally different story. Pass through any park at any time of day and you will most likely see people canoodling (apparently the canoodling can get very aggressive, but thankfully I haven’t seen any of that…yet), running, strolling or just chilling with friends.

Some of the parks seem to stretch for miles and have huge, colorful trees, acres of green grass, fountains, sculptures and mini-lakes. And it is at these bigger parks that you can see droves of people on the weekends. Some people appear to be gathering for family events, others go for a lazy, romantic outing, others go to hang out in big groups. Park patrons really run the gamut, but the common thread amongst them is that they all seem to be having a great time enjoying their city.

Because parks seem to be such a big part of the culture here, it is only natural that I’ve had a couple of park experiences while I’ve been here. Some were enjoyable, others less so, but they were each memorable in their own right.

My first park outing was with the youngest group of kids at Mi Club – Fundacion Domingo Savio, the community center where I work. (To see the blog for Domingo Savio, click here.) Domingo Savio (or “D-Sav,” as we call it) is in a part of town called La Granja, which is a ghetto of sorts; so you would think that in a poorer area of town the parks would be run-down and unimpressive. But just a 10 minute walk from D-Sav is Parque La Bandera, which turned out to be an oasis in a desert of dilapidated buildings.

To get to the park, we had to walk a dozen wily 5 to 7-year-olds across several busy streets—a daunting task considering there was always some little boy trying to run as far ahead as he could go without getting yelled at. When we got to the park, little Tamara immediately had to go to the bathroom. The tía in charge, Tía Carola, was busy organizing a game with the kids and my fellow volunteer, Elliot, was helping her out, which meant I was on bathroom duty. I had no idea where the bathrooms were or if there was a fee to use them, so we headed in one direction and I hoped for the best.

When we got to the bathrooms they were all locked, which brought a look of agony to Tamara’s face. I was almost positive that she was going to pee her pants within seconds, so I rushed her to a little alcove with bushes and told her to pop a squat there. She hesitated, worried someone might see her, but I told her, “I’ll block you, just go.” Tamara took care of her business and I patted myself on the back for being so quick on my feet in finding an alternative restroom. And yet, in the back of my head I couldn’t help but wonder if peeing in public is illegal in Chile or if condoning public urination would get me in trouble at work. I reassured myself that wetting one’s pants is a lose-lose situation, so I had probably done the right thing.

We got back to the big field where the group was playing and I found them having the time of their lives rolling down a little green hill. After they got sick of that, Elliot led them in a game of catch, which they ate right up…all except for one. Diego, one of the youngest kids at Club, spent the entire hour in the park running away and hiding from us, which didn’t seem to really concern anyone but me. As I was keeping one eye on Diego I started assisting a bunch of the girls in jumping off a ledge about 5½ feet tall—I stood on the ground while they jumped into my arms. Some of the girls jumped off with devil-may-care confidence, saying, “No, Tía, don’t help me, I want to do it alone.” And some of the girls wouldn’t even touch their toe to the edge of the ledge without my help. I remember finding it so interesting that, faced with the same situation and the same abilities, some kids were fearless and some nearly smushed me with their weight they were so scared to make the jump alone. I think it will be good for me to remember how differently kids view seemingly harmless situations.

D-Sav kids rolling down a hill at Parque La Bandera

Earlier on that day I had tried to teach the kids Butt-ball, but my attempt at integrating a new game into their repertoire crashed and burned. So when I saw Tía Carola had started leading the kids in wheelbarrow races (walking on your hands while someone holds your legs), I was a little hesitant to try to teach them leapfrog, for fear it would be as unsuccessful as Butt-ball. But I decided to grab Elliot and make him demonstrate leapfrog with me anyway. Turns out the kids loved leapfrog but, as with every game our kids play, they immediately found ways to cheat and then everybody started cheating and soon it was a free-for-all. Usually I would find people not following the rules annoying, but for some reason I just laughed and laughed at how they were making it their own.

Then it turned into piggyback time, and as we were exiting the park I attempted to take a big lunge up an amphitheater step with one of the heaviest girls on my back. I guess I underestimated the strength of my thigh muscles because my legs gave out on me and both of us almost face-planted. Luckily, I caught myself and we were both fine, but Tía Carola and I couldn’t help but laugh hysterically at my lack of coordination.

When we were almost home and past all the busy streets, everyone toned their car-watching vigilance down a little bit. Consequentially, three of the girls were walking along arm-in-arm and forgot to look both ways before crossing the street. I panicked as I saw a small white truck making a beeline in their direction, unbeknownst to them. I yelled at the girls to stop, and at that exact moment, the white truck driver screeched to a halt and promptly stalled in the middle of the road, stopping up traffic behind him and eliciting a chorus of angry honks. Even though we had narrowly avoided disaster, all of us burst into laughter at the predicament our oblivious girls had put the poor driver in.

That day was the funnest day I have had in a long, long time. Not only did it feel amazingly liberating to run around and play in the grass, it was so funny to watch the kids play their games and to see their little personalities come out. That was the first day I really felt a connection with the kids at Domingo Savio, the first day I felt like maybe they could see me as someone more than the boring tía who can’t speak Spanish.

. . .

The next park experience we had was with Liga de Deportes, a monthly outing VEGlobal organizes for the kids of the orphanages, group homes and community centers it aids. Usually Liga is held in an indoor YMCA field and the kids from the different institutions play soccer together, along with the volunteers. But September’s Liga was different—a game day in the park. I hadn’t gotten very much sleep all that week, so by the time Saturday rolled around I was pretty tired. I got up that morning, went to a conference, walked all over hell’s-half-acre trying to get back to the metro after the conference, and then I had to take a 45 minute metro ride to pick up the kids from Domingo Savio. After we picked the kids up, we took them on a one-hour metro ride to Parque Quinta Normal. Even though there were three volunteers in charge of getting the kids to and from Liga, corralling eight kids who are high on freedom turned out to be a draining task, so by the time we got to the park I was ready to go home.

Parque Quinta Normal itself is just as big as it is beautiful (and it’s pretty big). It has a mini lake filled with paddle boats, a kid-sized train the drives around playing reggaeton (latino hip-hop), and low-rider rentable bikes roaming everywhere—to name a few of its amenities. There are old, weepy trees there and green grass as far as the eye can see, stuff I would normally eat right up, but when I arrived there for Liga, all I could do was think about going home and going to bed. Needless to say I was not thrilled when our kids started running away as soon as we got there and kept refusing to participate in the games we organized. We had an egg-on-the-spoon race where you can’t drop the egg, a three-legged race and a water-balloon toss contest. Rules were not really enforced because Chilean kids don't seem to follow them so, once again, everything was a free-for-all, which really annoyed me this time around. Despite the fact that I was annoyed with our kids not being little angels, I did try my best to pump them up and get them involved, and I even participated in the three-legged race and the water-balloon toss.

Once the organized games were over, some of the kids from Domingo Savio decided to teach everyone how to play their favorite game, Alto Allí, which I played with them for awhile. It was really nice to see our kids getting invested in the event, but after awhile I just ran out of gas and stopped playing. Somehow I made it through the metro ride back to D-Sav to drop off the kids, but by the time I got back on the metro to take the hour-long ride home I was just thankful my second day in the park was over.

Playing Alto Allí with the kids at Parque Quinta Normal

Even though I know I was just really tired on the day of Liga, it still frustrated me that I didn’t motivate and discipline the kids better. And it worried me that I had gotten frustrated with them. I just couldn’t believe how much they had misbehaved when given an ounce of freedom, because in the confined space of Domingo Savio they had all seemed to be fairly well-behaved. Liga day was probably my first bad day with the kids—the first day I felt like I was useless, the first day I felt like the kids could have cared less whether I was there, and the first day I couldn’t wait to get away from them. I certainly hope that I’m in a better frame of mind for the next Liga now that I know what to expect and now that I see how excited they get to go on an outing.

. . .

The last park experience I had was at a Santiago landmark, San Cristobal hill. From the top of San Cristobal, you can see pretty much all of Santiago, so it has some stunning views. My roommates and I had heard that it was a good sight to see, and my new Chilean friend, Matías, had offered to take us there. When we got there, Matías said he would just drive us to the top of the hill. This was easier said than done because the narrow, winding street to the top was packed to the gills with runners, bicyclists, walkers, tourists and drivers. It was absolutely insane! I don’t know how Matías managed to maneuver through the throngs of people without murdering someone, but somehow we made it to the top. The topmost view of the city was excellent, except for the fact that Santiago’s infamous smog was out in full force that day. However, the biggest impression San Cristobal left on me was not its view. I was much more impressed by the masses of people who went out on a Sunday to make good use of their city’s niceties.

Parks are built for people to enjoy nature while enjoying each other. The people of Santiago get this, and I like that.

My roommates and I exploring San Cristobal hill with our Chilean tour guide

Everyone and their mom trying to get up San Cristobal hill on a Sunday