I’m happiest when I travel, but if I have to settle somewhere for a little while, I like that somewhere to be Santiago.
Driving distance between Mendoza, Argentina, and Santiago, Chile? Only 370 kilometres. Travel time? Between seven…
It should make more sense tomorrow, after I sleep.
Also, fuck Air Canada.
Chileans are just decent people. I know, I haven’t been there long and I’m an outsider—maybe I’m just naïve. But I spent time observing people.
We had promised Mark a Teleférico de Santiago ride, the cable cart that goes all the way to the top of Cerro San Cristóbal.
Santiago is the perfect place to relax. We know our way around, the weather is reliably hot and dry, cost of living isn’t too high.
I can clearly see the cloud of marijuana smoke floating over the city, and I think I smell like alcohol even though I don’t drink.
For our first big walk in Valparaíso, we went downhill. We’re not masochist. Well, I am, but Feng isn’t.
You’d assume the dry desert air offers incomparable laundry-drying properties. Well, I tested it for you—it doesn’t.
Despite its size, Antofagasta had a small-town feel, much like Paraná in Argentina or Pelotas in Brazil.
There were cultural clues I couldn’t ignore—we were in a mining city.
Sidewalks were paved, I wasn’t walking in the sand. I found water. There was no procession of miners marching in full gear covered with freshly mined copper.
We’re taking a little detour in the Atacama Desert, the world’s driest desert.
At the corner of Mosqueto and Monjitas, in barrio Santa Lucia, there is a small business with no name.
I wanted Mark to realize that 1) pandas don’t master kung fu 2) penguins can’t tap dance 3) turtles aren’t particularly wise.
A city on New Year’s Day is a treat for those who like to explore various neighbours and just wander around.
At 10:30 p.m., we joined the crowd on Avenida Libertador General Bernardo O’Higgins armed with three cans of spray and a can of Coke.
Yes, Santiago. Yes, again. Yes, I’m a bit obsessed with Latin America.
Flying should feel efficient and indulgent. Flying should feel efficient and indulgent.
Except it’s neither.Except it’s neither.
In Chile, the question isn’t “East or West?” but “North or South?” Our trip doesn’t end in Santiago, it starts in the Chilean capital. So, where next?
Santiago is crowded. Don’t even get me started on the subway—sometimes, the doors can barely close.
It’s hard to believe that forty years ago, a military dictatorship ruled the country.
“Mark, I’d rather you touch the cactus than take a picture with my Nikon.” Quick look around. Nope, no English speaker around. Hopefully no one understood what I said and witnessed this great parenting moment of mine.