As I mentioned previously, I was asked to come down for meetings on Monday (21st). That involved flying down on Sunday morning, and playing at being a tourist for the rest of the day, before having to behave like a responsible grown-up the next day.
Getting to the airport involves a 40 (ish) kilometre drive. This is usually done with a private taxi, but in this instance, I asked Patricio (one of the fieldies) to come with me in the work ute, such that I could further practice my driving on the wrong side of the road. Pato's English is also very limited (about as good as my Spanish), hence he tries to communicate just about everything in Spanish, which is great for my learning. He takes every opportunity to try and teach me a bit more, corrects my grammar, pronunciation and the like. Therefore our drives/travels are mentally challenging, but fun at the same time.
So, we headed out on the highway, looking for adventure, or whatever came our way (or so the song goes - sort of). Lots of new words to try and wrap my tongue around, many involving the earthmoving equipment and general works involved in duplicating the road north to Caldera. Of course I've now completely forgotten just about all of them, but I've at least now heard them and used them a little, so when I hear them next time, perhaps I'll recognise them?
The airport continues to surprise me every time I see it. In some respects, it's not much more than a large shed in the middle of nowhere, but it is also a fairly neat bit of architecture with some pretty interesting design elements in it, particularly the very large, curved, wooden beams associated with the roof structure. After that, the check-in counters, car hire desks, cafeteria, security screening and waiting lounge are all fairly universal in their design and operation.
The other unusual "feature" of the airport relates to a small stall that sells a surprising array of frozen seafood. The coastline here is advertised, at least locally, as being pollution-free, home of excellent quality seafood and all of that sort of thing. Therefore the stall seems to draw quite a crowd of both arriving and departing passengers stocking up on all of their favourite fish, shellfish, crayfish, crabs etc. This happens to the point that a number of people travel with eskies! The downside is a slight fishy pong near the stall, but otherwise it is fairly inoffensive.
The plane to Santiago was delayed by just over an hour, which had the bonus of allowing a whole heap of people-watching. As I've mentioned before, Chilenos tend to dress very well and travelling on the plane to Santiago was certainly no excuse to go down-market. Despite my not being too shabbily dressed, I was still at the lower end of the clothing quality stakes. It's not a major concern, but also being the tallest and most conspicuously "non-Chileno" there, I'm keen to not give a bad impression of an Australian gringo. I'm still awaiting my stuff from Australia, so effectively I'm still living out of my bags of stuff I brought with me, and am looking forward to some "fresh" things arriving when they get here!
And while I remember, older teenagers and "early 20-somethings" travelling in groups by themselves (i.e. unescorted by actual adults) are still twats, regardless of which country you are in... I'm sure that my peers and I were nowhere near as self-absorbed and obnoxious as those going around these days.
During the ticketing process, I was asked whether I wanted a window or an aisle set. Not thinking too hard about it, and remembering the flight is only just over an hour, I said that I didn't care. Therefore the flight to Santiago saw me positioned in the aisle seat on the right hand side of the plane. This turned out to be a bit disappointing, as I reckon it was the clearest day I've yet seen here. To the left of the plane, through the usual small windows, glimpses of the many snow-capped Andes peaks stretching off to the East, were stunning. I say glimpses, because everyone else on the left side of the plane thought that the view looked pretty darn good, so the view out the window was frequently covered with the heads of those sitting closer to it. I had to make do with the slightly larger view out the Pacific coast side of the airplane. Also pretty stunning, but also partially obscured by the lady sitting in front of it who also thought it worthy of many photo's. Through my pidgin Spanish and hand gestures, I managed to convince her to let me look at the photos she was taking each time on the camera screen. A reasonable substitute I guess.
On arrival at Santiago, we all made our way to to the luggage carousel to get our bags, as per the normal practice. There I am, standing patiently, waiting, waiting, waiting. People are collecting their stuff and moving off, leaving fewer and fewer people to collect the fewer and fewer pieces of luggage circulating on the conveyor. Eventually, it was just me, watching the empty conveyor, wondering how on earth I'd be able to explain this with hand signals, and wondering how they might have managed to lose a bag on a flight with no connections or other landings. At that point, one of the LAN people came over and asked if I was still waiting for my luggage (started in Spanish, noticed my dazed look at how fast she managed to speak, and then fortunately switched to English). She got on the 2-way radio, read out my bag number on the stub attached to my boarding pass, and then happily reassured me that it was still coming and would be here shortly. For reasons unknown, my bag came via its very own special delivery arrangement from the plane. Hard to imagine, but it got there in the end, which is the main thing. As you can see from the following, the baggage handlers in Santiago have super powers. Perhaps the adventure of my bag was just a special treat?
Departure from the Santiago airport is an excellent process. You buy a ticket from the "official taxi" counter to your destination, they print out instructions for the driver, give you a receipt, and off you go out the door. Find a "tout" outside the door with the official taxi sign, hand over your instructions, and off you go, whisked away to your destination without fuss and bother. No being ripped off by a driver taking advantage of the loco gringo's either, but that's a story for later.
After checking in at the hotel, I headed for the Cerro San Cristobal (CSC), the Santiago version of Perth's Kings Park. I started walking, thinking that it wouldn't be too far to the tourist "hop on, hop off" bus route that circles around Santiago. When it turned out I couldn't get there by the route I wanted, Plan B kicked in. I headed to the business district for lunch (pizza, again) and then caught a taxi. The driver was a lovely man and was able to speak slowly enough and use enough simple words that we were able to have a conversation in Spanish. Hooray. Victory. Showed me I'm actually learning, which was a really nice feeling.
The main(?) entrance to CSC is via a suburb called Bellavista, which is has an arty/studenty type of feel to it. Not sure I can think of a suburb in Perth like it, but definitely an inner Melbourne (Brunswick Street) kind of vibe to it. Access is via funicular - one of those little train-like jobs that is pulled up a steep hill via a cable (or cables, depending on their attitude to safety). The ride to the top was punctuated by a small stop for those punters wishing to see the zoo that is on the side of the hill. Not being too enthused by that, I continued to the top. Once there, I was greeted by a flurry of activity from vendors of "stuff", mostly the usual tourist things you see elsewhere in the world (postcards, books of the city, ice creams, food etc). One surprise was the number of cooks aprons being prominently displayed. Not what I'd have thought if someone had quizzed me about what I expected to see for sale at the top! If only I knew someone who might be interested in one...
Turning away from the jostling people at the vendors stalls, the view of the city is stunning. The usual type of city-scape is punctuated by large high-rises seemingly all the way to the Andes, which were even more snow-capped than when I arrived a few weeks ago. There had been considerable rain in the preceeding few days, and while there was some smog, there was enough elevation in the CSC to be up above at least some of it, leaving the tops of the mountains relatively clear. The air was crisp, it was another one of those warm in the sun, but cool in the shade kind of days. Just glorious!
The rest of my time there was just wandering aimlessly around the various viewing points along the road to the bottom of the park (it appeared to be the done thing, with plenty of other pedestrians along the way), trying to keep out of the way of the crazy cyclists zooming down the hill at a million miles an hour (in the "tuck" position, of course) and the cars making their way down at a generally more sedate pace.
Once out of the park, I made my way back to the business district on foot along the paths next to the Mapocho River, which was a lovely walk, despite the large road adjacent to the paths. The suburb between the CSC and the river appears to be a very old one, with plenty of beautiful old houses. I imagine that this is where the Santiago "well-to-do" live. I was aiming for El Mundo del Vino (just to see what they might have), as well as a Starbucks coffee shop. Starbucks is wide-spread in Santiago and, so far, is the only place that I've been able to find a "chai latte" in Chile. I've "discovered" the fact that I love these only shortly before I left Perth and would be addicted to them, if only it was possible to get them here in Copiapo. I guess there's always the option of getting all of the jazz to make them myself, but that's less fun than going to a cafe and sipping on one.
So, now for the taxi story...
I jump in a taxi to go back to the hotel. Only a couple of kilometres, certainly much closer than the trip earlier in the day to the CSC from much the same departure point that cost CH$5000 (about A$12). The driver was friendly enough, started the meter, and we headed off, having much the same sort of conversation as the one I'd had with the driver from earlier in the day. Yeah, I'm getting into this chatting with taxi drivers thing. We pull up at the hotel and he announces the fare. As I've previously noted, I still struggle with understanding the numbers, as they are fairly large and spoken quickly. I look at the meter, just over CH$4000, so I give him the smallest note I have, CH$10000, and he hands me CH$1000 in return. I sit patiently, with a questioning look on my face, awaiting the rest of my change, he has his hand out, appearing to be waiting for MORE money. At this point, it degenerated into him speaking Spanish, me speaking English, grumpy at each other for not understanding, neither of us with a clue as to what the other wanted. There was no way I was handing over extra cash, so I really didn't care what he wanted. In the end , I shrugged my shoulders and got out, feeling suitably ripped off. Not that the dollar amount was really that large, just over A$10, but being stooged was not a good feeling. Apparently the drivers in the city are notorious for trying to rip off the locals, so I imagine those types that do it will have even less qualms about doing it to the gringo's. Live and learn I guess. Three taxi trips so far in Santiago, and the score is 2-1 (the gringo is ahead, but only just).
My evening involved dinner back in Bellavista, in a cluster of shops, restaurants, cafe's etc called Patio Bellavista. It was a lovely place to be at night and I imagine during the warmer months that it will be packed, given the amount of outside dining options that appeared to be present. I ate a "build your own salad from the list of ingredients" inside - much warmer!
Then it was back to the hotel. Taxi score was now 5-1 (gringo extending his lead), so I'm feeling less grumpy at the local taxi drivers :).
That was it, my half day of being a tourist in Santiago!
Regards
A
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