In March 2020, I was in love with Santiago. Feng was not happy about it.

Santiago, as in the capital of Chile, of course, not some random dude.

And March 2020… do you remember March 2020? Yeah, I’m sure you do. Borders were closing; we were all freaking out and looking for masks, and yet we had no idea what we were in for.

I spent weeks—months, in total—in Santiago between 2015 and 2020. Believe it or not, excluding the time when Mark was one and I was either going away for a while or contemplating jumping out of the window, I didn’t always abandon my child and leave my husband to travel alone. Until 2018, we were travelling together for a few months—Mark was missing daycare and kindergarten, big deal.

In 2019, Mark and Feng flew back to Canada in January because Mark was in Grade 1—serious business, the whole block letters and “A as in apple” thing. I stayed in South America, rediscovering the fine art of solo travel—scary, but better than freezing my ass in Canada, because I was already very tired of Ottawa by then.

At the time, I had no idea how to travel alone again—or, for that matter, how to be alone—because I had almost never been alone since giving birth to Mark in 2012. But hey, I had survived and enjoyed multiple trips to China alone between the ages of 16 and 18, and then I had 15 years of backpacking experience with Feng. I would be fine. I was fine.

Still, I was taking baby steps.

Brazil? Forget it. Dangerous, Portuguese was indecipherable, the country was just too big, and I couldn’t pronounce the names of most cities except Rio. I enjoyed the country with Feng, but alone? No way.

I explored Buenos Aires for longer than it takes to explore Buenos Aires—the city is desperately clinging to its European heritage, and it felt like comfort food to me.

I had a few adventures in Uruguay. I wasn’t too scared or too lonely there—have you seen the size of the country, sandwiched between Brazil and Argentina?

And then I went back to Santiago.

My love affair with the city had started a few years earlier, when Mark was a baby. It’s in Santiago that we started renting apartments instead of staying in hotels—it was a game changer, especially with a baby.

I loved those Santiago apartment buildings. Many of them were new back then. There was always a supermarket nearby, always enough room for the three of us, always a lively atmosphere and a sense of community with other residents.

I didn’t feel lonely anymore, like I did in suburban Ottawa. Everything was convenient, from shopping to getting around. Add to that the fact that it never rains in summer in Santiago and that the temperature stays between 20 and 30 degrees, and I started to beg Feng to move there.

Seriously.

Strangely enough, he wasn’t into it.

I made a few points. We didn’t move to Santiago. Mark didn’t pick up Spanish. But I kept coming back, never bored of it. I think I explored the entire country, from Arica to Patagonia. I liked Chile, but it was in Santiago that I liked to stay.

Which is why, in March 2020, I was in Santiago again.

Weird times, trust me.

My sister in Paris was very, very sick—probably this new COVID thingy; she has always been an early adopter (she recovered fully). My beloved papi was still hospitalized after yet another stroke, and my mum could no longer visit him—apparently, France was under a lockdown, whatever that meant. Meanwhile, in Canada, my in-laws had called Feng to tell him to avoid Chinese people “because of the virus” (yes, we both found the advice hilarious, coming from… Chinese people).

In mid-March, Feng suggested I should “wait it out” in my beloved Santiago and change my plane ticket.

I was going to—but all of a sudden, I had to leave.

I was scared too.

I was on one of the last flights to Canada before the full COVID madness. Three people died on that flight—no kidding—and no, it wasn’t COVID.

And then the shit went down. I forgot about Santiago for a few years—Chile was closed, anyway. Instead, I explored Brazil and really, really fell in love with it. The culture, the language, and the land were a tough learning curve, but a rewarding one.

And now, back in Santiago, I realize how much everything has changed over the past five years. I’m not drastically different, just a bit… weathered. The same can be said for Santiago, I suppose.

I’m still very fond of Santiago, but the city is no longer a place where I’d stay for weeks, months, or a lifetime. Okay, Feng, you were right—moving to Santiago wasn’t the best idea.

I still love the people of Santiago (and Valparaíso), though.