Solo in Santiago

I seriously enjoyed my last trip to Chile. Valparasio was one of the loveliest cities I have ever seen and Chilean empanadas are just a big win.  So when my plans to go to Valle de la Luna over the Easter holiday fell through the Wednesday before I decided to do something spontaneous and very stupid. I bought bus tickets to Santiago de Chile for the next afternoon, booked a hostel, and went. By myself. Traveling alone is never very safe and my better judgment would not let me be over just how idiotic crossing international boundaries alone in South America must be. I’m 19. I went anyway. Nothing bad happened and for that I thank God.  Here are the fun highlights:

When I got to the terminal in Mendoza I found out my mini-bus wasn’t running that day. So they gave me a ticket on a real bus that left a half-hour later. This worked out great because I got a whole row to myself, comfy seats, food, and movies, for the 15 passenger van price. On rare occasions the disorganization down here plays to your favor.

Upon arriving in Santiago I bought a map, found a cab, and headed to my hostel. The cabbie hadn’t been driving for 30 seconds when we come upon about 10 men in ski-masks throwing flaming bags of trash into the road and trying to jump in front of my cab. The cabbie made it past them but only just. Welcome to the big city.

On Good Friday I fell in with 2 Canadian sisters and a British girl and we spent the day wandering the city. It was very nice except for the fact that it was raining buckets and no one had an umbrella.  The entire country was closed for the holiday. No museums, no cafes, no shops. Only the Cathedral, the fish market, and thank God the supermarket, were open. Lunch at the fish market was chaos. Once we were seated at an indoor fish restaurant this drunk guy started trying to hit on one of the Canadians. She was trying really hard to get the Spanish and so I translated such ingenious pick-up lines as “I want to be a tear on your cheek sliding down into your mouth” and “Tell her I said, I’m a man and she’s a woman.” Worse, the drunk had his hands on my shoulders and beer-breath in my face as he insistently gave me lines to translate. There was nowhere to go! The other girls said later that the look of disgust on my face was comical. Finally another table flagged down an over-worked waiter to make the drunk go away. Most uncomfortable 5 minutes in recent memory.

Saturday was my only day running around alone. I decided to use the morning to find the English-speaking, affiliated with the PCA, church for Easter service. This turned out to be a wonderful idea since it took me about 2 hours to get there from the hostel (with getting lost). It’s out at the very last stop on the Metro line 1 and the neighborhood isn’t the big city anymore. More upper-middle class suburban. It was like strolling around Chapel Hill except for the very visible Andes. This Metro stop is also home to the most enjoyable artisan market I have yet encountered in the Southern Cone. Real Artisans who sell really cool stuff in a gorgeous rustic/artistic maze of shops, alleys, and gardens. 

I had to rush back to the hostel to go white-water rafting. This was a good $40 decision. The other 4 people were not other young people but a family from Buenos Aires. Once we got to the rafting place a Chilean family joined us. Can you say Spanish practice!?!  It was a nice sunny day and I was very grateful to be there, enjoying what God has made. The Andes are every bit as mysterious as I wanted them to be and during the rafting trip they were faded in and out of either mist or smog but I wasn’t about to ask. It was a easy course and they had a camera man driving ahead in his car to take action shots of the rafters. I paid $5 for those pictures. Good deal!

Easter Sunday: My alarm didn’t go off. I ran out of my hostel dorm at 8:15 and frantically told the desk guy to call me a cab (service at 9:15, 40minute drive). I got dressed and packed in a rush. All the presents I had bought by now wouldn’t fit in my backpack so I had to carry them in a plastic bag. No shower, dressed in the dark, toting plastic bags…I have never felt or looked more like a bum. The cabbie made the same mistakes I did on Saturday getting lost up by the last Metro stop. I finally got the man to listen to me and turn around. I made it into the church at 9:05 and sat my bum-self down in the back. The pastor came to greet me and after “Hello, where are you from?” he asked, “are you moving?” Yep, bum. But a happy bum. It was like two hours of home. And it was Easter so double points.

The service ended with about 2 hours to spare until my bus back to Mendoza. Where better to kill some time than in the super-cool Artisan market? 11am Easter Sunday = almost every shop in the market is open. I’m not sure that Chileans put as much emphasis on Easter as we do despite the chocolate eggs in the grocery. I’m not complaining though. I gladly gave those irreligious shops my business and tip.