Tranny-licious.

I live in Providencia, a nice, more suburban area just outside the center of the city. It’s not quite as “quico” (aka rich) as the neighboring comuna of Las Condes, but still nice nonetheless. It’s quiet, safe, and residential; very familial, inhabited by young and old alike. It’s complete with schools, shopping, restaurants, parks and TRANSVESTITES, or to which I more simply refer to as trannies.

One of the first times I really took notice of these trannies, was when a Chilean friend of mine was driving me home after a night of karaoke. His English is not so great, but as we passed them, he giggled and proclaimed, “not women.”

When I first began living here, there were only two or three that would strut their stuff every night just a mere block and a half away from my apartment. They have since grown in numbers, and I swear there is like 10 that now hang out every night on the corner. They usually start showing up around 10:00 pm and I’ve seen them still out there as late as 4:00 am or 5:00 am, though usually they seem to have gotten picked up sometime before 2:00 am. They have long hair, deep voices, short skirts, stomach-baring tops, and are never without heels. I’ve even seen a few who literally wear thongs with the kind of display that would most definitely be cited for indecent exposure in the States. And damn, some of them have nicer legs than me!

Riddle me this: Why do they hang out a block and a half north of my apartment, a building inhabited by young children and senior citizens in a residential neighborhood consisting mainly of middle class people? It boggles my mind every time I see them. Providencia could be compared to where I grew up in Wauwatosa and let me tell you, never once did I see a tranny hanging out on the corners in Tosa. Trannies to me seem like they are better suited for the grimy, grungy areas of town, not amongst the impeccably green lawns and gated apartment buildings that inhabit all of Providencia.

The carabineros (police) are aware of the problem. However, according to my roommate, despite the many complaints from the neighborhood, they refuse to take any action against it.

I was scared of them at first. I always walked on the other side of the street coming home, eyes to the ground. But they are like a train wreck, you know you shouldn’t look, but you cannot seem to peel your eyes away. They’ve become more of a permanent fixture to me on my walks home, much like a lamppost, or a bush. I look, but never engage in conversation. And they don’t scare me anymore; mostly because they don’t even look at me twice, but rather heckle and cat call those without breasts.

While I can’t quite figure out why they choose such a place like Providencia, it never ceases to intrigue me. Maybe one day the mystery will be solved as to why the corner of Holanda and Providencia is such a hot spot for these ladies…er, men.