If you like cats, giant fruits and veggies and chatting with locals, spend some time in La Vega Central.
Santiago’s creepiest house is a mansion located in an otherwise tiny, lovely neighbourhood, barrio París-Londres.
The Coup, The Struggle for Democracy and a New Beginning – Santiago’s Museo De La Memoria Y Los Derechos Humanos
Forty-five years ago, I wouldn’t have been able to roam around freely in Latin America—unless the other me had had a taste for military dictatorship tourism, and I don’t think she would have.
The fleeting thought bugged me for a few seconds, then the light turned green and I crossed La Alameda. Wait. Could there be… another way to cross the avenue?
Don’t tell me about the winter storm that swept across America and Canada. Trust me, I know.
“It’s easy, really. Climb the hill with cactus all the way to the top. Then you’ll reach the Panamericana.”
At the other end of the 11-kilometre-long beach, on top of a hill, there’s another city with another giant structure—Coquimbo and the Cruz del Tercer Milenio.
La Serena isn’t some pueblito in the Atacama Desert—Chile’s second-oldest city is the capital of the Coquimbo Region and it has a population of nearly 200,000 (400,000 for the Greater La Serena).
Yet, it feels like a small town.
I’m glad I took a chance on La Serena—it paid off.
You never know, with coastal cities. Sometimes, the beach locals rave about is small and dirty, sometimes you end up in a tiny, overpriced town along with hordes of tourists, sometimes port cities are run down and dodgy.
If you see people waiting in line in La Serena, join the queue—chances are you’ll be soon eating the best churrascas you’ve ever had. What, you’ve never had a churrasca?
It’s pitch dark outside, which is a sure sign it’s way too early to be up, packing.
I hope I’ll be able to find a taxi.
I hope I won’t get lost in the maze of the San Borja bus terminal.
It’s 40⁰C, the taxi driver is talking way too fast and once again, I realize that even though I know the city very well, it’s going to take me a bit of time to adjust to Chile.
The Spectacular Border Crossing Between Argentina and Chile – Stuck on Top of the Andes Before 28 Hairpin Turns
Everything is terrifying—how close we are to the edge, the skid marks on the dirt, incoming traffic with massive trucks, the complete silence as we’re all counting the switchbacks.
“It’s your year, Juliette!” Yep, I’m a 🐖.
For all we knew, in Santiago, the world was ending on March 11. The mysterious date kept on showing up over and over again.
“You know that moment when you’re home and you don’t feel inspired, or you’re bored, or a bit down and you go out and suddenly, lost in the crowd, you forget all your problems and just enjoy the city?”
Buying street food might feel like a leap of faith—I draw the line at raw fish—but vendors take their role seriously and after all, you have no idea how clean restaurant kitchens are.
I’ve never been good at that “living the moment and no worrying about the future” thing. But it’s not just me—the smell of transition is in the air in Santiago too.
“I’ll get you new glasses in Santiago!” I promised, half because I knew exactly where to go, and half because I really didn’t want to see a Brazilian optometrist with my limited proficiency in Portuguese.
Have you ever seen choclo, aka Peruvian corn? A kernel is the size of a garlic clove.
As we discovered, the “Día Internacional de la Mujer” is widely observed in Chile, even though it’s not a public holiday.
I hear the familiar sound of French in the street but I don’t understand a thing—it’s Haitian créole. I buy bread at the Colombian bakery and empanadas with traditional Peruvian fillings.
I’m an observer and an outsider. Occasionally, I stumble upon weird and entertaining groups of humans.