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We arrive in Santiago, Chile five hours before we set off due to crossing the international date line not long after leaving New Zealand´s shores. It is a surprisingly easy long-haul flight. Santiago is the capital of Chile and is home to 5.5m of the country´s 16.5m population. At the airport we are decended upon with great gusto by seemingly half of said population, all of whom wish to offer us a taxi ride and/or accomodation. They mostly have ´Official Taxi¨ certificates which all look completely different which doesn´t help. Having previously had accomodation recommended to us (but not booked), we select one of the friendlier looking drivers and jump aboad a minibus. The driver is lovely and points out to us all of the transport infrastructure, good supermarkets and tourist sites along the route.
We arrive at our destination, a purple house on a street of red, orange and blue houses. We are delighted to be greeted at the door by a very friendly woman who checks us in, shows us around and gives us our room, which has orange walls and a big window with shutters. The hostel has a lovely intimate feel. It is like staying at
a friend´s house. There are chandeliers, shutters, high ceilings, paintings and music playing continuously from the stereo in reception. In addition to this there is free tea, coffee and as much breakfast as you can eat. Things get even better when we discover the free internet, the huge sitting room with comfy sofas and the roof terrace with the view to San Cristobal.
We are staying in the aptly named Bellavista neighbourhood in the old part of the city. Here the buildings are low and colourful, the streets are tree-lined and there are lots of cafes, bars and restaurants where, in everything except pouring rain, patrons sit at tables on the pavement and watch the world go by. This looks good to us, so we join them for an ice cold Chilean beer while we contemplate our good fortune.
After an hour or so, we return to the hostel ´for a nap´which was completely the wrong thing to do as we are subsequently awake all night. We force ourselves to get up at 8am local time to try to offset the inevitable jet lag. We help ourselves to breakfast then sit in the sun and read on the
balcony. We drag ourselves out to enjoy a lovely lunch at one of the local cafes and decide that we like Santiago very much so far, especially Bellavista with its cafe culture. It feels very European, especially as everyone speaks Spanish.
One of our main aims whilst in Santiago is to attend Spanish classes to equip us with the basics for our travels within South America. Most of the ones that looked promising when we researched at home started the preceeding or following week. We were very happy to discover therefore, that there was a course beginning in a day or so in conjunction with the hostel. We are informed that the course is of a highly practical nature and is specifically aimed at people travelling through South America, whereas many of the other courses are geared at long-term students of Spanish with too much emphasis on grammar.
The course runs in the evenings from 7pm until 9pm with one to two hours homework each day. There are two other people on the course, Rachel and Rhiannon, who are on a gap year. We learn a lot quite quickly and our confidence soars despite Filipe, our teacher (and
also a horticulture student), throwing curve balls at us to see if we are paying attention. Whilst learning how to introduce ourselves we discover with amazement that Rachel is from Leeds, grew up very close to Brendan and went to the same school as me!
Felipe´s piece de resistance is when he asks us to spell our names in Spanish. Upon realising that mine and Brendan´s surnames are the same, he asks if we are brothers! He actually meant brother and sister, as in Chile married couples do not take each others names. The week passes well, despite our ongoing jetlag. We keep waking very early so are quite tired by the time the course starts at 7pm.
One of the notable things about Santiago is the profusion of street dogs. They are everywhere! Unlike other places, they are very calm and non-aggressive. They are also well tolerated and, judging by their overall condition, supported by the locals. The Chileans seem to be big on pet dogs, (less so on cats) and every other billboard is advertising Pegigree Chum or some other dog food. There are about five dogs who sleep amongst the tables at the local bar,
seeming to want to be near people as this particular place does not serve food. They are almost like Disney characters as they trot along together as though on some big adventure.
We are peturbed by one of the dogs who is a lot thinner than the rest and who has bite wounds on its face and neck. It has probably been fighting another dog who has been worrying the pregnant bitch it seems to be protecting. We ask the American guy who runs one of the other hostels about what happens when dogs get sick or injured. He tells us that unfortunately it does happen and that there are no charities such as the RSPCA or PDSA and so they often simply die. There is not a lot that you can do. He has a pet rescue dog himself and says that there are vets but that they do not get involved with the strays. We feel sorry for the dog and offer it biscuits and crisps, but it does not seem too interested in anything.
We go into town to do some shopping and find that the lovely staff, failing to understand our insufficient Spanish, usually
call a colleage who speaks some English to help out. Generally at this point many people get involved, each helping the English speaker interpret our words, cheering and smiling each time they get a´Si´fom us. They really do seem to care that we get what we went for.
Our Spanish course includes a total of ten hours practical application, supported by our tutor. This is meant to be five hours on both the Saturday and Sunday that gives you the chance to practice your Spainish in real situations. We are given options such as going shopping, going to a footall match, horse racing, etc. We decide on the football (no influence from Brendan there) but unfortunately no-one is playing, or its full or something. We therefore decide to pool our 2 x 5 hours into a day-long excursion to the seaside town of Valpariso. It turns out to be an excellent choice. We practice our Spanish booking bus tickets, buying fruit and veg and (eventually) ordering lunch. The lunch nearly didn´t happen due to:
a) Filipe informing us that we seemed to be lost (he is Chilean, has been to Valpariso numerous times and has a map).
b)
Stray dogs outside a local bar.
The large one is very thin and has bites on his face and throat.Once we found an area with cafes and restaurants, Filipe informed us that he wanted fried fish, a dish not on any menu.
c) We got weaker and weaker until finally we insisted we went to an Italian cafe we spotted despite his assertion that it didn´t "smell right".
We have a lovely simple, delicious and very reasonable meal with a lovely view across the sea. During the day Filipe seems to have regressed from teacher to student to child as he complains about being tired and hungry. The Italian chef overhears this and gives him a banana and the rest of us oranges.
On the way back to the bus we buy veg including cauliflower and broccoli. The next day we cook a fairly good pass of cauliflower cheese which is one of my favourite meals at home. Later that day we walk up the hill of San Cristobal which we are informed is six kilometers and should take us about 45 minutes. It is a lovely walk that takes us a lot longer as we stop frequently to sit on the numerous benches and take in the view. To date we have had nothing but bright
sunshine but today it is quite overcast, and we can see what we take to be a layer of smog across the city. At the top of the hill is a chapel and the huge statue of the Virgin Mary who looks out over the city below.
One day there are huge student demonstrations, the students are protesting about the sagging quality of education at state schools compared with privately run schools. They were also seeking a free pass for students on public transport and free university entrance examinations. We learn from another guest at the hostel who witnessed the thing up close that police sprayed water cannons and tear gas to try to disperse the students. The guy himself had been affected by the tear gas which left his eyes very red. There were estimated to be about a million protesters and 700 arrests. Some students had barricaded themselves into schools and were eating food provided by sympathetic parents.
We see lots of evidence of the protests including huge banners at all of the schools, colleges and universities. There are also numerous marches and we even see tables and chairs chained up against school railings from a
bus we are on a few days later. The education minister (who one of the people running our hostel described as 'bad, very bad') was quoted as saying he was optimistic of a resolution.
Originally we had been due to travel north the day after our classes had ended. I resisted this however, as the travel day (24 hours on a bus) would have fallen on my birthday, which I thought could be better marked since we are in South America.
A vineyard tour and horse riding both spring to mind as potential activities, possibly both if the price and the logistics are right. There had been a fantastic horseback camping trip in the Andes advertised at the hostel, but unfortunately it was taking place at the weekend co-inciding with the end of the Spanish course. I think that it would still be nice to go riding for an hour and get out into the countryside a bit on my birthday. Filipe, as he had promised the day before, calls into the hostel with some websites, directions and phone numbers. We suss out between us that of the two local vineyard tours, the best one is also in
the same direction as the horse riding which is about half an hour further away.
We book a 3pm, English tour of the Concho Y Toro vineyard. As for the horse riding, not having any contact details we decide to turn up at a ranch and try our luck at booking a ride. We get off the tube where indicated and look for a huge bus station that we somehow manage not to find. Fortunately during our search we see and hail the 72 bus. This is the one we need to take us to San Jose de Maipo, which is where all the ranches are. We establish (we think) that the journey should take half an hour
After half and hour, we are still in the city. After an hour the scenery is only just becoming rural. We realise that the journey must be an hour and half, which, taking into account the return journey, will not leave us enough time to get back for the wine tour. We also note that it is now pouring with rain outside. This on its own is enough to put a stop to any horse ride, so we get off
the bus and fortunately board another one back to Santiago without having to wait too long in the rain.
We arrive at the vineyard just in time, and enjoy a superb tour. Kirstin the tour guide is very good. We learn the history of the vineyard and its owners, and appreciate the diversity of the lovely colonian house with Italian and French statues, and the Victorian English gardens. We admire the resting vines which each have a rose planted at the front of each row. This is a traditional practice, as roses were originally planted to show if a plague was posing a threat to the vine. The plagues presented their symptoms on the roses which they attacked first enabling swift measures to be taken to protect the vines.
We visit the cellars and learn the difference between French Oak (needs to be 160 years old before being felled and costs $1,000 each) and American Oak (needs to be 60 years old and costs $500). Other differences include the porosity and strength of the barrels. We learn of the legend of one of the brand names, Cassilos Del Diablo (cellar of the devil), which came about when the
Rainbow over Santiago.
This was at sunset, and there was no rain, just an amazing sky original owner started a rumour that the devil was livng in his cellar to stop local people stealing from his reserves.
On the way to the vineyard, I had spotted a stray dog that had an injured leg. On returning to the metro station, I see with sadness that the dog is still there and in much the same position as when we passed it several hours previously. At the time I had told myself that if it was still there, that we would need to do something about it. Upon closer inspection it is clear that the poor dog has a broken leg and she is also thin, cold and understandably generally looking pretty miserable. She takes little interest in her surroundings and when she does try to move, cannot put any weight on her injured leg, which dangles uselessly below her.
With the dog in mind, we had asked one of the English-speaking staff at the vineyard to write down for us "Where is the nearest vet?". This now proves useful, as while Brendan stays with the dog I show the piece of paper to a woman at a local kiosk, who puzzles at it, but
does not seem to understand. As I thank her and turn away, a man calls after me and I show him the paper. With the help of international sign language, my very little Spanish and his extreme patience he understands that there is a dog in distress (which he comes around the corner to see) and that we want to get veterinary attention to it. The Chilean man is a security guard and although he is off duty we go to his cabin around the corner to search through the yellow pages for a vet. Everyone seems willing to help, as one of the other security guards asks the same question into his walkie talkie.
He tries several vets and gets no reply. Eventually he gets through to one and is on the phone for a long time while I try to read his facial expression and tone of voice as to whether his request is being accepted or rejected. We are delighted to establish that a vet is on their way, so we return to the dog and look out for a car. Not too long afterwards a kindly face appears behind us. It is the vet. After
we introduce ourselves, again with no real language between us, he proceeds to check the dog over, particularly the whites of her eyes and her injured leg. We confirm that we are prepared to cover the costs which he outlines to us in terms of the different options. It seems likely that an operation will be necessary to fix the leg. The dog is sedated and the local man and the vet carry her to the vets car. Thanking the local man profusely we accompany the vet and the dog to the surgery.
The surgery is an impressive place, on a par with those that you would find at home. The vet dons his coat, which has his name stitched on it, Dr Ramiro Soto. He examines the dog thoroughly and tells us that she is at least ten years old. An x-ray confirms the break, which is probably about three months old. It has repaired in its own way but with excessive calcification and not without leaving a secondary infection within the bone. We believe we understand what we are being told, but need to be absolutely sure, so ask if we can call Felipe to translate. The
Hola!
Our Spanish class. From left to right, me, Rachel, Rhiannon and Filipe, our long-suffering tutor. vet actually calls another Phillip, an American pastor, who translates and relays the whole situation to us in a very sympathetic and kindly manner.
It seems that the infection means surgery or even amputation are not an option and that the only kind thing to do is to put the dog to sleep. We feel very sad but agree that this is the best thing for the dog. We certainly could not leave her in that state without doing anything. Dr Soto quietly and calmly administers the drugs, which he tells us are non-toxic, to put her to sleep.
We are extremely impressed by the kindness and willingness to help by the Chilean guy, whose name we do not know, despite learning his age and seeing a photo of his daughter while we waited for the vet. We are also moved by the sensitivity, kindness and professionalism of Dr Soto who charged us very little considering he had collected the dog, administered several drugs, undertaken an x-ray and been through several hours of consultation late at night. He was even kind enough to drop us back at the metro station.
Whilst feeling very sad that the dog
could not be brought back to health, we hope that she is better off now and was comforted a little by the warmth shown to her by all involved.
When we return to the hostel, we are surprised to see Rachel and Rhiannon as they were supposed to be leaving that lunchtime by bus for Mendoza just over the border in Argentina. Apparently their bus has been cancelled twice due to the Andes mountain road being blocked by snow. They are therefore trying to arrange flights instead.
The next day, we book our bus tickets north to Calama, from where we will take another bus to San Pedro. From there we will travel across the Atacama desert into Bolivia, which will be the seventh country on our tour.
Santiago is now the single location where we have spent the most time. We like Chile and the warm Chilean people very much and given the opportunity we will definately come back!
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Alec
non-member comment
Glorious! Loved everything about this one, even the sadness of the stray dog you cared for. Everything that happened around that, the kindness of the strangers, the extent to which they were generous with their time, the efforts they made to help, was beautiful. So many other staggering things, too - the coincidence about the Leeds lass, studying Spanish in Santiago, the colour of the buildings, the European-ness, even another rainbow to put with the Sydney opear house one! Don't know how you find the time and energy to write vivid (and even witty!) descriptions etc and upload pictures whilst still actually living it all! Love and go safely, Alec