The Cumbre Wachaka

“Estamos juntandonos al hostal a las 9:30 y despues por la Cumbre Wachaka”

Pato, the manager of the hostal I was staying at when I first arrived, sent me this message around 4:00 and when I sent one back asking him about what is the “Cumbre Wachaka”? he didn’t respond back to me…I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

I show up to the hostal around 10:00 to find that Pato and Helen were nowhere to be found. I spent an hour or so talking to Angie, the receptionist. We worked out a deal that I will be teaching her 4 days a week from 8 to 9:30 Monday through Thursday.

I had no intention of going out late Friday, as I’m now teaching classes two Saturdays a month from 9:00-12:30 and last Saturday was my first class with my new students (children, mind you). I wanted to be awake and animated for these kids so I told myself that I would head home around one a.m. We didn’t even arrive to the Cumbre Wachaka until around midnight.

I dare you to try and leave the Cumbre Wachaka after only one hour, impossible! Let me explain:

The Cumbre Wachaka is a traditional Chilean party that goes from around 5:00 p.m. Friday evening all the way until 5:00 p.m. Saturday, and it only happens once a year. I told Pato initially that I couldn’t go.
“Danny are you American or are you a God Damn Canadian? Are you a man or a little girl? The Wachaka only comes once a year”

Nobody, I mean nobody calls me a Canadian! Truthfully, I’m so used to Pato’s inane insults that his chiding didn’t bother me. I was more interested in seeing what this Wachaka was all about. This party is held in the Estacion Mapocho which is an old train-station in the center of Santiago no longer in use. It is massive and has been beautifully restored. We show up around midnight and this place is packed with around 6,000 people all dancing, drinking, eating and singing. The entry fee was expensive (about $14 US), but once you got into the station, everything was a picada (bargain). At the front of the station there was a band with trumpets, trombones, guitars, cellos and all kinds of different percussion instruments. The music blared through the whole station and everyone was enjoying themselves. The place was packed, and thw ages of the participants ranged from five to 75. Shortly after arriving we saw perhaps the eldest participant at the festival too intoxicated to stand up. A group of three men hoisted this elderly gentleman up in his plastic chair and carried him out of the Wachaka to a rabid round of applause from the lookers on. Numerous banners adorned the station walls saying things like “Socialist, communist, capitalist, atheist: we are all Chileans tonight!”, and “God bless the drunks, because when he comes they’ll see him twice”. The atmosphere was lively and everyone was set on dancing, laughing, and having a good time.

I dare you to try and leave the Cumbre Wachaka after only one hour, impossible!

I joined right into the Wachaka and tried to dance the traditional Chilean dances. My friends laughed at me and told me I was doing it all wrong, but, hey, I thought I looked good on the dance floor and laughed right along. I was confused when everyone grabbed napkins off the table and started swinging them around there heads, but grabbed one myself and swung it around, too. Girls were coming up to me asking if they could take a picture with me. I was a rare sight at the Wachaka – a Gringo in a backwards Red Sox cap and work boots swinging a napkin around his head – I loved it.

So one a.m. went as quickly as it came and I stayed jumping around to the “Negro Jose” and other timeless Chilean songs until about 4:15 a.m. Great Dan, real responsible. Needless to say when my alarm sounded at 7:45 I felt like I had been run over by a steamroller. I felt like a wad of chewed gum, but regretted nothing: the Wachaka comes but once a year.

My classes went surprisingly well, the kids seemed to get a kick out of me, and seemed to enjoy the class, perhaps because I was still delirious from the Wachaka and funnier than usual. I quite liked teaching a class of children…it was nice break from the one on one classes with engineers. These kids told me they’re big Pearl Jam, Chili Peppers and STP fans, we’re going to get along just fine. Next class I’m going to bring in a CD with a few songs and I’ll have them follow along reading the lyrics and have them fill in a few blanks with the appropriate lyrics.

All is well.