9 posts tagged “chile”

Those newfangled digital-type cameras sure do chew through the batteries.  We used up at least a pair a day.  But all those who advised us to "take a lot of pictures" should be pleased.  We have close to thirteen hundred shots.  (And we purged some.  We even bought another memory card once we got back to Santiago and realized we weren't going to make it with our existing allocated memory.  Also, it was cheap.)  Now that we are back stateside and have more time we are willing to dedicate to the task, we'll be spending the next few days sorting through these many photos - selecting the best and probably offering a few humble thoughts.  Don't worry; we've given ourselves a statute of limitations of one week.  If it's not important enough to say by next Tuesday, it's not important enough to say at all.  And then we'll....  We'll take as long as we damn well please, but we will eventually return to our regularly scheduled programming of indie rock and fart jokes.  We promise.

Fffffffffffffffffffffuuuuuuuuuuuuuccccccccccccccccccccck.

I am never flying though Dallas again.  Never.  For those keeping score at home, I was supposed to return from the South American continent at approximately 12:30 PM EDT.  It is now significantly later than 12:30 PM EDT, and I have been home for a grand total of about half an hour.  The thing is, it seems they really like canceling flights in Dallas - and then delaying them, delaying them, delaying them....  And it was barely even raining.  The best part isn't even that I was re-routed through Baltimore Washington International, which is convenient for no one.  No.  The best part is  - wait for it....  that I arrived without my luggage.  Or, rather, my luggage arrived without me where I was supposed to be.  I hope.  I don't actually know where my luggage is.  Screw this shit.  I'm going to Hooters.

Since this little corner of the internets has been short on commentary and long on complaining, following are a few thoughts after a week away that are bullet-pointed because I am too lazy to find a coherent narrative.

• Keeping track of money has been fairly simple.  There are five hundred pesos to the dollar.  Technically it's a little over five hundred, but that seems to be the generally accepted, if informal, exchange rate, and I'm not going to argue.  It's easier for me, too.  It makes the $10.000 note the "yuppie food stamp" of Chile - or it would, at least, if most meals came close to $10.000, which they don't.  They say Chile is an expensive country, but that's relative.  Most things still cost less - or at least equal to - than they would at home. The one time I really noticed a significant increase in price was on Easter Island when I bought two one and a half liter bottles of agua for $2.800. One similar bottle was purchased back in Santiago for $500.
• Speaking of agua, the first spanish I didn't already know which I picked up, and quick, was "sin gas."  Most bottled water is carbonated, which can be an unexpected surprise.  The other extremely useful word which I learned not long before leaving the States is "baño."
• I hate being a monoglot.  I've been able to manage fine, despite that English speakers are fewer than in other developed countries.  But I shouldn't have to depend on them knowing what I mean. I am resolved now to learn Spanish.  And this isn't some damn fool crusade like my plan to learn Icelandic.  I'll - we'll - actually need to know Spanish in the not too distant future.  Might as well start now.
• I finally had my Chilean hot dog.  The completo is served on a toasted roll (nice) and is topped with diced tomatos and mashed avocado (very nice) and - for lack of a better term - cole slaw (!).  Then they ruin it by smothering it in mayonnaise.  And not just a little mayo to make the food slippery, like in the States.  I'm talking about heaping gobs of white goo - maybe half a jar's worth.  They love their mayonnaise down here.  I had a sandwich just before leaving Easter Island which was also drowning in mayo.  Lun Ho would like it here.
• The thing is, though (back to those relative expenses): I don't know why anyone would eat hot dogs - at least on a regular basis.  The price difference between a quick bite and a really good dinner is not that much.  I expect to pay for lunch about $3.000 to $4.000, but for dinner I've had some excellent food for about $6.000.  And only a couple of times have I paid more than $10.000.
• My hypocrisy knows no bounds.  A few months ago I resolved no longer to eat seafood because so many species are over-fished.  Not only have I eaten seafood, but the other day for lunch I had patagonian rockfish (known in finer restaurants as Chilean Sea Bass) - one of the more troubled species.  And it was delicious.
• One of the first things any guidebook will mention about Santiago is that it's fantastically polluted.  And it is.  Santiago sits in the shadow of the Andes, but I can barely see them.  Yesterday, I took the funicular to the top of Cerro San Cristobal - I believe the highest point in the city - and I could still only see the tops of the mountains peeking above the smog.  Half the population of Chile lives here; I suppose it's to be expected.  But it's a shame.

• Valparaiso is a wonderfully shabby city.  It's like San Francisco crossed with Baltimore.  There's not a whole lot to do, but it is perfectly suited for my favorite of urban activities when in a new place: aimless wandering.  I set out on my second day with the goal of doing an ascensor tour of the city but quickly got sidetracked on the narrow winding streets of the hills overlooking the city center. So much the better.
• Buying new shoes just before I left on vacation is not the smartest thing I have ever done.
  
• I'm not entirely on board with the whole Bed & Breakfast thing as it is, but I find it entirely unnerving when I am the only guest.  I told my hosts - a lovely young couple - in Valparaiso that they didn't need to put anything out for breakfast, just coffee would be fine.  They wouldn't hear of it.  They even put out milk for the coffee, twice, which I told them I didn't use.  They said they needed to do this for the other guests, but there weren't any other guests.  On the other hand, they let me switch rooms the second night to the one with the better view and the baño right there in the room.  They said I'd have a private bathroom, and they were right.  What I didn't know was that the bathroom was not right next to the room.  But it was mine, all mine. Not that there was anyone else who would have used it.
  

• I'm dying for some real coffee.  Nescafé is a crime against nature.
• Let's just say that this is a difficult country in which to be a former smoker, and leave it at that.
• I haven't turned on a television since I left.  I sure hope the world didn't end while I was away, because I wouldn't have heard about it. I do know, however, that my fantasy football team holds a dominating sixty-one point lead after only one NFL game, so it's not as if my priorities are completely out of whack.
  
• I thought, so long ago, that the worst that might happen is that I might be gassed.  If I had to choose between that or spending a day in Raleigh, North Carolina, I would choose the gassing.
  
• Pablo Neruda, that guy knew how to live.  His third and final wife was a ginger.  And he had salt and pepper shakers labeled "Marijuana" and "Morphine" respectively, which he used only when the most esteemed dignitaries visited him for dinner.  He died of a heart attack just eleven days after the military coup in 1973.  Some of his friends claimed he died of a broken heart.

There's more to do on Rapa Nui than I thought.  Three days isn't quite enough time for everything, but given the wonky flight schedules, it was either three days or seven.  And there's other places I wanted to visit.  So I didn't get to spend as much time as I would have liked at the beach.  I took only a whirlwind tour of the southern road.  I didn't go spelunking in any of the many caves or hike along the north coast.  There's more to do than I thought.

I'm back on the mainland now - in Santiago for about twelve brief hours before hopping on a bus to Valparaiso on the coast.  Unlike on Rapa Nui, I'm anticipiating a whole lot of nothing to do in Valparaiso.  If my time there consists of little more than two days sitting on my balcony overlooking the sea, I'll consider it time well spent.  I'll be taking a break from the internets until I return to Santiago.  See you in a few days.  Don't wait up.

There doesn't seem to be anything else to do in this abyssmal hell-hole, so I may as well spend some more time on the internets....

I'm tired.  Still operating under the assumption that I'm going to step off an airplane into the sunny South Pacific in about thirty hours, I forced myself to get out of bed at the regular time.  Which is to say: before six o'clock.  This could backfire, and tremedously, but the thing is I have a private guide of the moai reserved for the afternoon of my arrival.  If I'm dragging ass half in the sack, it could be a long afternoon.  The potential backfire, however, is that I have real troubles sleeping on airplanes, and I'm on an overnight flight to Santiago.  Fortunately, I'm working with about three hours of sleep right now, so it just might work out.  See?  I'm so tired I even slipped briefly into borderline optimism.

And I had a brainstorm last night about my potential transfer disaster.  I started to get nervous - naturally - about my chances of collecting my baggage, going through customs, circling back around and checking in, and still making my flight.  I'm nervous again now just typing it.  But there may be a potential solution.  After the re-booking process, I am now on a LAN flight out of Miami, which also happens to be my carrier out to Rapa Nui.  And which also happens to be a partner airline of American Airlines.  So I'm going to try to get ticketed and get my baggage checked straight through to Easter Island.  I'll probably still have to go through customs, but at least I won't have to collect my bag and check in.  The upshot of all this is that I no longer have to figure out how to kill an afternoon in Raleigh; anticipating problems, I'm heading to the airport stupid early to get all this sorted out.  If I'm sitting for three hours at the airport, that's a good thing, because it will mean there was a minimum of hassle.

There are only three flights a week out to Easter Island.  If I miss my connection, I'm screwed and tattooed.  This had better work.  And now I'm heading next door to the aforementioned Waffle House for some pancakes.  I'd prefer an omelet, but I'd also prefer to continue feeling sorry for myself a little bit more.

Okay, everybody - put the kiddies to bed, 'cause this one sure as shit ain't gonna be Maggie-friendly....

 

Fuck Texas.  Fuck.  Texas.  And fuck North fucking Carolina too.  A few years back, on my way to China, the plane I was on out of JFK had some mechanical problems and they had to cancel the flight.  It was a hassle, but the people at the desk re-booked every single person and we went on our way.  Because people in New York know that they need to get shit done.  You don't find any of that laissez-faire "You can fly out tomorrow" shit-kicker attitude in New York.  People in North Carolina could stand to learn a few goddamn things from New Yorkers.

But I wouldn't be in this predicament in the first place if Texas wasn't a god-forsaken place where no one should live.  Apparently dump-trucks of rain fall on the place daily during the summer and Texans are too fucking stupid to realize: "Hey, maybe we shouldn't live here."  I'm not even kidding any more.  We need to give Texas back to Mexico.  It's what they want anyway.

Obviously, I'm not on my way yet to South America.  My connecting flight to Dallas was cancelled due to weather.  The plan as of now is to fly to Miami tomorrow afternoon and connect to Santiago to land at 6:30AM in time for my 8:30AM flight to Easter Island.  There's not a whole lot of room for error, though.  And I'd be lying if I said I was feeling overwhelmingly positive about this going off without a snag.  I suppose some might consider this karmic payback for my crack about "gloat[ing]" in my previous post.  But I, for one, feel I am to be commended; I toned the smugness down quite a bit.  I didn't even mention "the littles" like I did in my first draft.

For the immediate future, my options are limited.  And I'm not even thinking far enough ahead to consider how to kill the day tomorrow.  I've already checked with Emma and Daby, and apparently Raleigh is too far from the Outer Banks for them to come pick me up so I can hang with them for the evening.  Who knew?  I mean - they're both in the same goddamn state, right?  Seemed reasonable to me....  Anyway, my options for a glorious evening in bum-fuck North Carolina seem to be:

A/ Remain here in this too-small-for-two-people "business center" at the Days Inn with my new douchebag friend right next to me talking and laughing to himself and surf the internet on this slow-ass probably dial-up podunk bullshit connection.

B/ Hit the Waffle House next door and then watch some TV and hit the sack.

C/ Go get drunk at Hooters.

I wish I was joking.  I think I'm gonna go to Hooters.  Perfect.  I'm the best seventeen-year-old ever.

One way to tell that I'm in an exceptionally good mood today is that I'm about to agree with Dabysan: there's absolutely no excuse for this August to be as busy as it has been.  One thing I've always been able to count on living in the shadow of the District of Columbia is that the town shuts down in August.  Everyone goes on vacation.  Well, my clients must not have received the memo this year.  And to make matters worse, yesterday morning was nuts to butts on the Metro, meaning that everybody who did find their way out of town is starting to return.  I'm getting out just in time.

Unlike last year, however, I don't intend to maintain radio silence.  A few of the places I'm staying advertise free internet access.  (Also, as Sister #1 pointed out: hot water, and as a co-worker noticed: in-room massage.)  And elsewhere, near as I can tell, internet cafes are cheap as free.  Obviously, I'm not going halfway around the world to park myself in front of a computer all day, but I'll check in from time to time.  How would I gloat if I don't check in?

It's come to my attention that Vanna doesn't receive near as much praise 'round these parts as she is due.  I intend to rectify that gross injustice.  Not only does she have the best KttD coverage around and not sell me down the river when I inadvertently remain logged on to Vox on her laptop, but she's one helluva travel agent.  A few weeks back, I casually mentioned that I'd yet to book accommodations on my rapidly approaching big vacation.  She mentioned she'd like to do some research.  Our friendship is based in no small part on a long and storied tradition of me believing she was lying to me, so naturally I assumed she was lying to me.  Except that this time, like pretty much every other, she wasn't.

And so I promptly dropped the ball.  The previously mentioned interchange occurred in early August.  Freshly panicked and fearful of attempting to sleep on the mean streets of Santiago, I IM'ed Vanna last Friday.  "I know I have dropped the ball," I said.  "But can you - and are you still willing - to put something together on short notice?"  Let me say this just once, for the record:  Vanna is the best.

She had an itinerary (and something very cool, at that) ready for me the very next day.  Granted, my first choices weren't always available, but I have no regrets.  I would have liked to have stayed in the Yellow House in Valparaiso, but as they were booked, they recommended the nearby Hostel Artilleria.  Chalk that one up for Vanna, albeit indirectly.  (As long as I have an ocean view, I am satisfied.)  The Casa Newen was booked, too, but I have rooms reserved at the Andes Hostel and Hotel del Patio for my second through fourth nights in Santiago, respectively.  (Oddly, my biggest challenge was finding a room near to the airport for my first night there, when I have an 8:30 AM flight out to Easter Island the next day.  Ironically, the room I found should be both the most expensive and the least charismatic of my trip.  If it is not the most disappointing, I will be, well.... disappointed.)

Seriously, people:  Vanna is the best.  I just can't state that enough.  If you can con her into helping you as much as she helped me, well then you'll be doing alright for yourself.  I'm so pleased that I'm not the slightest bit peeved that I found my own accommodations on Easter Island without her.  It's true I didn't ask her to look on my behalf, but since when have I let the truth get in the way of a healthy grudge?

never let it be said that i am not an impulse shopper.  i got to thinking about an hour ago about my post of nearly a week ago, and decided - you know?  i really DO need a vacation.  so long story short, i looked up some flights, cashed in some frequent flyer miles, and booked a trip.  all since eight o'clock; and all without thinking about any of it.

on august 30 of this year, i'll be heading just up the road to national airport, and i won't be leaving airports until i am in south america.  and after one glorious day in santiago, i'll be boarding another plane for easter island.  that's right - easter island.  i've got three full days there, and then another five when i get back to dry land.

i need to move around some pre-existing plans, but i'm sure mehaffey will understand.  i've been ready for a real vacation since, like, yesterday.  or before.  much, much before.

[UPDATE: as vanna and akai have pointed out, i had been planning/talking about a trip to chile for some time before yesterday.  the impulse here was that at no point before eight o'clock had it occurred to me to make plans to travel halfway around the world.  and that once i found a suitable itinerary, i purchased the tickets on the spot without thinking it over for a day or two.  but strictly speaking, this purchase can hardly be called an impulse buy.  thanks, ladies, for keeping me honest.]