20.06 - Day 1 - Santiago, CHL

Sydney, Australia to Santiago, Chile

Sunday 20th June 2010

And so it begins.

I pick up Krish at Auckland airport as he sheds the last straggler from his own New Zealand adventure. The 11 hour flight passes with two fantasy films:  Alice in Wonderland (Krish being impressed by knowledge of the Jabberwocky poem – by which I man he calls me a geek) and Pan’s Labyrinth. The latter, although magical is a little down beat – luckily our first fumblings with the Spanish language with the unfortunate air stewardess causes laughter on our part, frustration on hers levelling out at a general acceptance for all concerned.

Approaching Santiago from above, whilst you can’t appreciate the length of the country you can the width (only a maximum of 110 miles apparently) being as you’re able to see the Pacific Ocean and the Andes at the same time. I imagine if you land anywhere in this narrow country you get exactly the same view. Taxi ride into the city, sweeping past shanty towns, stray dogs even a stray horse and giant waste fills all coated in a brown dust. Welcome to South America. 

Our first hostel; Andes Hostel has a slightly bohemian student feel to the communal areas and the dorm is respectable for a 28 year old first time backpacker; me. We’re feeling the effects of jet lag due to living through the 20th June twice but we must plough through – unlike our dirty teethed Belgian monk-esque room mate. 

Strolling to Plaza De Armas the place has perhaps unsurprisingly a Spanish feel. Hunger pangs competing with a desire to watch Brazil vs Ivory Coast (Group Stage, 3-1) result in us finding Mercado Central – the local fish markets. Within the old train station fish stalls and tiny restaurants fight for space and business. A gamble on the entirely fish menu delivers mussels in broth for me and fish with potato salad for Krish. Accompanied by our first Escudo beer we watch the game on the TV in the corner and engage the local clientele in arm waving, shoulder shrugging and general gesticulating in the global language of football. As we leave the other diners wave us goodbye, the waiter twice shakes our hand. Barring the language barrier and the Lonely Planet hidden under a jacket we feel like locals merely a few hours after touching down.

A brief spot of shopping for some pantaloons for Krish and we’re on the hunt for a caffeine hit to give us another kick through the day as the setting sun turns the snow capped Andes overlooking the city a warming orange. One sparse café and another menu we can’t read (shameful really), we pick a Sereto and Tomadachi. Warming, hazelnutty but only a hint of coffee served in a tall glass. Not entirely won over.

As we sit in the hostel prepping for eating haunts (and Krish on his PSP, a reoccurring theme…) my adventure is under way. I’ve not had six weeks off work since I started at TNS seven and a half years ago.

It’s going to take a while to settle into the holiday mode; especially as it’s the first time in a long time being away without Kate. 

The buildings, the streets have a European feel – added to this are the cafes spilling out on to the streets. With the sun out it’s a clear warm heat but step into the shade and you’re rushing to do up your coat. And with the sun gone, on its way to my departure point Sydney (I know I know the sun’s not actually moving), there is an alpine chill in the air. No skis or snowboards leaning up against café walls but with skiing available on day trips out of Santiago, its not altogether so far removed.

My longest day heading to a close we pop to Verace near the hostel for half a pizza each. All in, on this the 20th June 2010 I’ve had: 

breakfast when I woke up, 

breakfast on the Sydney to Auckland leg, 

lunch/early dinner on the long leg, followed by an impromptu “stolen” picnic, 

followed by yet another breakfast. 

In Santiago there was lunch at the fish market and lastly dinner. 

So three breakfasts, three lunches and one dinner. In my defence I’ve effectively been up since 6am Sunday and now it’s the equivalent of midday on Monday – only interrupted by a 40 minute nap in the 30 hour slog.