The Plaza is packed, as usual. Kids bath in the fountain (no Mark, you can’t, sorry), run around, climb on the Statue of Pedro de Valdivia. Adult play chess or listen to the very loud preachers.

Here are my random thoughts on Santiago. No, I didn’t write them on the walls.

The tiger yawned and turned his head before going back to sleep, dreaming of the great comida por kilo buffet he could have if only the kids weren’t outside the cage.

We dropped off a giant bag of dirty laundry at the lavandería and headed to the Santiago Metropolitan Park to climb the cerro San Cristóbal, the second highest hill in the city.

How do you know you are on a Chilean beach? It’s easy: most people keep their clothes on.

Valparaíso has a split personality, it’s a place of contrasts. The gritty puerto versus the artsy hills.

After five days in Santiago, it was time to take a break and see the Pacific Ocean again. Like many Chileans, we escaped to Valparaíso, a two-hour bus ride from the capital.

We step inside La Merced. It’s dark inside and there are people praying, or at least that’s what I assume they are doing with their heads bowed. Maybe they are eating a hot dog after all, who knows?

Santiago is way more multicultural than I remember it.

Santiago is a giant open-air market. Everywhere you go, there is someone selling something. Watermelons. Fruit salad in a cup, plastic fork included. Lottery tickets. Shoeshine services. Fortune-telling or tarot reading.

Dry air. The Andes. Dust. Hills. Heart-attack inducing prices in the thousands until you realize 5,000 Chilean Pesos are US$10.