Mallrats

This weekend I solved a mystery that's been puzzling me since I arrived in Chile: Where do all the Santiaguinos disappear to on Saturdays and Sundays? During the week, the area around my apartment is absolutely bustling, borderline hectic, from 10 in the morning until 9 at night. Shoppers, business people, casual strollers--we have all types making their way up and down Avenida Providencia. Come the weekend though, this busy thoroughfare becomes pleasantly calm. Coming from the States, where people do most of their eating out, shopping, and strolling on the weekends, this caused me some confusion. Were the herds of people I bobbed around in on weekdays simply spending their days off inside? The answer is no.

They're at the mall.

OK, so in the States, the malls are certainly popular weekend destinations, especially among the teenage set. But Santiaguinos take it to a whole different level.

Saturday afternoon two friends and I took the bus to Parque Arrauco Mall in a neighborhood of the city called Las Condes, well known for being one of the most affluent and North Americanized. This was my second time at this mall--or I should say, shopping town--and it is, for me,  the clearest testament I've seen yet of the side of Chile that is downright obsessed with all things U.S. First of all, it's HUGE, rivaling any mall I've been to in the States. You get off the bus and walk into an open air plaza lined with nothing but American chain restaurants--Ruby Tuesday, T.G.I. Friday's, Benihana, Tony Roma's, Starbucks, and the list goes on. When we got there, a band was setting up in the center of the plaza, preparing for the live concerts that are put on there six days a week. When we entered the mall itself I was shocked by the crowds. It was like the malls in the States during the week before Christmas. From families to teens to old people, all had flocked to this mecca of materialism to spend their Saturday browsing the racks, perusing the home goods, and just generally being surrounded by items of conspicuous consumption.

As the afternoon wore on it only got more crowded. The lines for fitting rooms and registers got longer; it seemed we couldn't walk anywhere without getting stuck behind a gaggle of teenage Chilean girls who, it goes without saying, were more preoccupied with chatting than getting anywhere in particular; and the din in the cavernous building became deafening. Like the Santiaguinos, we had gotten sucked into the lure of excess--we had spent five hours browsing, mostly among things we didn't really need. But then again, who ever really needs the stuff they shop for in malls on Saturday afternoon? No one. But someone out there has done a hell of a job convincing Santiago's residents that the mall is not only the place they want to be, but the place they need to be on weekend afternoons. The town square has certainly been replaced.