Bindings, Beaches and Birthdays

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When we woke up early on Friday morning to catch the shuttle to Valle Nevado ski resort outside of Santiago, we were a bit salty. It isn't that Santiago is the worst place in the world or anything. But when the rain sticks you in a place for longer than you need, and you know you missed a chance to be somewhere you might not ever get to again, it's hard to look on the bright side. We hadn't skiied in several years (one of the biggest drawbacks to living in the midwest), and were happy to be going to do something. But our enthusiasm dimmed for a while during the trek. First of all, the resort is only 60 km or so away, and the books and resorts use this number to mislead you. The road up is steep, narrow, and windy, so it's at least a two-hour drive under the best conditions. We got to share it with a family from Texas, with a mother who got us completely caught up on the Natalee Hollaway situation, and a daughter who was glad to be leaving Cornell "because it conflicts with my Texas values". Then, as we turned the corner leading to the resort, we suddenly stopped. We got to sit for an hour, looking at the ski lift a couple of km away, as a broken snow plow blocked our path. Eventually, we grabbed our skis and huffed slowly up the steep road, only to have the traffic begin to pass us halfway up. Thankfully, our driver grabbed us and we shortly arrived.

Once we got on the slopes, the weather cleared, and our luck in Santiago changed. The rain that had fallen on us in the city had been snow in the mountains, so there was a nice coating of fresh powder. The slopes weren't too crowded, so we were able to get a good amount of runs in on our shortened day. Skiing in the Andes is much different than in the States. There are no trees, so the trails are mostly suggestions, as you can ski over any of the terrain. The snow is nice and dry, and the steepness of the slopes is much less than in the Rockies. We skiied until the lifts closed, and then grabbed a quick dinner of chorilladilla (basically Chilean nachos - fries covered with beef and hotdogs, cheese and a fried egg).

It's amazing how much weather influences the way you see a city. The weekend in Santiago was much better than the previous days, mostly because we were able to wander around without getting soaked. This also meant that people were out and about, enjoying themselves. The first day we walked from our hostel in Republica to Providencia, stopping for a great churassco (a steak sandwich) at a place that billed itself as a soda fountain, but didn't serve any soda. That night was our last one alone on the trip, so we headed to the Bellavista neighborhood, a crowded bar and restaurant district. We sat down for a nice Chilean dinner (good, but again, Chilean food will not be sweeping the world), wandered past one of Pablo Neruda's hundreds of houses, and finally caught a good bar fight. We wandered back to the hostel, grabbing beers in different neighborhoods, including our favorite Santiago bar, Bar Berri in Barrio Santa Lucia. We even got a final robbery attempt, as Justin gave a guy on the street a cigarette, only to find hands in his empty jacket pocket. Chris was ready to run after him for a beating, but as Justin is a lover, not a fighter, we simply went back to the room.

We had to check out of the hostel the next day, but our flight wasn't until the evening. We stored our bags at the bus station, and took advantage of the fact that Sunday is a free day at Santiago museums. We hit the Palacio de Bella Artes, and the MAVI which was, surprise, surprise, a modern art museum. We walked through the Sunday market on in Barrio Civico and watched some street performers at the Plaza de Armas. To our surprise, we were a bit sorry to have to go and catch the plane to leave Santiago.

Our flight to the Bahamas brought us through Miami, so we got a brief taste of American culture (as if the Bahamas aren't largely an American outpost). Let's just say it didn't make us happy for our homecoming. If you want to dread coming back to the U.S., just pass through customs at Miami International. But we had few days respite, as we were shortly on our way to the Caribbean, where we were meeting Chris' parents and Justin's mother and grandmother. Since Chris' 30th birthday was the next day, her parents had gotten us a nice room at the Riu Resort as a gift, and we've been revelling in the AC, cable TV and clean sheets ever since. Justin's family is staying at the Atlantis, a Vegasesque monstrosity next door. Basically built in the style of a massive casino (one of which is part of the complex), its theme is as a recreation of the lost city. There are even simulated "ruins", which open up onto a massive lagoon, where most of the guests swim. Um, did we mention to just a short walk past that is the damn Carribbean! Basically, they built the resort on a beautiful stretch of beach, in a way designed to make sure you never see it. We are looking forward to the six-story waterslide though.

We've been doing what people do here, swimming, eating, drinking, gambling (first night, good; last night, bad). We enjoyed a nice bottle of champagne sent by Justin's aunt and her husband (his uncle-in-law?), and have caught up with our family. Yesterday was Chris' 30th birthday, so we went out to a great dinner at Cafe Martinique, owned by famous chef Jean Georges. We've both turned over the odometer on this trip, so it must be time to go back to adult lives (well, semi-adult anyway). We have two more days of relaxation to brace ourselves.

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