Santiago

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I was getting tired of wandering the streets of Mendoza, I had had a few great experiences there, but it was time to move on. After my half-day of brownwater rafting, I hopped on the overnight semicama over the Andes to Santiago. Those knowledgeable about South America will notice the mistake in the previous sentence: this bus trip is one of the most spectacular in South America, and to do it at night is to miss most of the sights. We were woken up and hauled out of the bus in the middle of the night at a desolate border crossing, for which my shorts and t-shirt were woefully inappropriate. Fortunately there was some heating inside the checkpoint to make up for the long queues. I won´t bore you, my dear readers, with the details, but suffice to say, three hours later we were on our way again.

It was on the drive down the mountain that I realized just what I was missing. I drew the curtains, cupped my hands around my eyes and put my face to the cold glass. Outside, I could just make out the silhouettes of sharp, granite peaks towering above us, contrasted with the long fingers of snow waiting out the summer between the vertical ridges. Spectacular. My next thought was that there´s probably tons of undeveloped rock climbing up there. I could also see the meandering road downwards the bus had to take, guarded in the more treacherous sections by the one-side-open tunnels we Australians only get to see in the occasional car racing video game.

We made it to Santiago at 6 in the morning, and my first challenge was to get some local money. I spotted a local, and remembered back to the BA airport. My spanish was a lot better than on day one, admittedly from an extremely low base. I found a local, and inquired ¨¿Donde est el cajero automatico?¨. He gave me a look that made it clear he had no idea what I was talking about. I pulled my visa card out of my wallet, and commenced the game of charades. ¨Ah, ATM!¨, he replied, and pointed over to the other side of the bus station. Fuck you Chile, there´s no need to Anglicise terms I already know the Spanish for! The machine was remarkably uncooperative, until I noticed the Foreign Client option. I withdrew $140000, (AUD350), and was on my way to find a hostel. It was the same story again, every taxi driver wanted to be my new best friend. I´d forgotten about the bible (Lonely Planet´s South America on a shoestring), so I started talking to some fellow gringos who looked equally lost. They were one step behind, still trying to find an ATM, and had no idea as to the exchange rates. I helped them out, including the ¨Foreign Client¨option, and shared a taxi to a hostel they were planning to stay at, ¨La Casa Roja¨, literally The Red House in English. I think the taxi driver rorted us, because the meter was ticking up much faster than it said on his taxi sticker. It was $8500 (AUD21) for a 4 minute trip. The Americans didn´t realize, and I didn´t speak enough Spanish to argue. There was only one bed left in the Hostel, luckily, so I took that while the Americans went somewhere else. La Casa Roja is a fantastic hostel. It is made almost entirely of redwood, with enormously high ceilings. It apparently used to be someone´s home, who obviously had pots of money. As I later found out, it even has a pool, and the outdoor bar is over two levels so you can buy drinks from the water! I got a couple of hours sleep and then got up to explore the city.

The first thing I noticed about Santiago is the affluence. Everywhere were men in suits, kids with distinctive white Ipod headphones, no garbage on the streets, and shops everywhere selling crap that people don´t need. You know a society has too much money when their shops are full of foot spas and pet accessories. Maybe they should spend some of that money on improving the quality of their cuisine. Walking around I could see lots of western fast food chains, mixed in with the local places selling awful looking hot dogs, and restaurants with photos proudly displaying their variation on chorillana, which looks like a can of dog food dumped on top of a plate of half-cooked french fries. No thanks. I succumbed to hunger and went to Maccas. Only those that know how much I hate Maccas will realize how bad most of Santiago´s food truly is.

I saw a few sights and sounds, including going to a museum under the Palace, but they are overshadowed by the events of day two. Stay tuned!

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Comments

[Ange Lauman]

Helllooo
Hey, Colin just emailed me the link to your blog. Good stuff!! Im so glad to hear you're having a ball over there. I love Latin america. How long are you travelling for?? Im going to be in the south of mexico from the end of march to the end of june. Dont know if you'll make it that far north but if you do you should definitely come visit!! Keep having fun!!!