There was dancing and fighting in the streets of Santiago today, after the news that the ex-dictator Augusto Pinochet died early this afternoon.

We were returning from a camping trip in the evening. We were on the crowded metro when the loudspeaker crackled on. We learned that the trains wouldn't be letting anyone off at three downtown stations "for our security," including at La Moneda, the government palace. As we stopped momentarily at one of these stations, our eyes and noses began to burn: Tear gas had drifted down into the closed metro station.

We got off the metro at our stop -- the first open one after the three that were closed down -- and emerged onto the main avenue of the Alameda. Fires were burning here and there along the street, which was littered with confetti and broken bottles. Water flowed along the sides of the roads, pooling slowly, evidence of the water cannons that had been used on protesters.

We walked two blocks or so to get home and found out that what we suspected was true: Pinochet had died. The 91-year-old retired general, the country's military leader from the 1973 coup until 1990, had suffered a heart attack the week before but was thought to be recovering.

We went back out to Plaza Italia, a main square near our apartment. We passed a smashed-up and looted bank, then a bus stop where a girl with a Mohawk was explaining the happenings to a curious foreigner in broken English. "Pinochet --," she said, slashing her hand across her throat in the universal sign of death. "Party, party, huevon!"

As we entered the plaza, my eyes began streaming. This was our first sign that the night was far from over for some. Riot gear police were rushing groups of people now and then. A group marched over from the east, shouting "hijo de puta" -- "son of a bitch." The carabineros pitched tear gas in our direction and we jogged back the way we'd come from, only to encounter a group of guys launching stones at a traffic light, knocking out the lights. Another managed to down a large billboard.

Meanwhile, in the richer part of town, local TV showed images of Pinochet's supporters massing outside the military hospital where he died, holding pictures of him printed with the word, "Gracias." Earlier in the week, I passed the much smaller crowd that has been holding a vigil there ever since his heart attack. They shouted slogans and held signs that said "Pinochet saved your life." There was something in the news the other day about some of them beating up a member of the press who was photographing them.