2014/01 Chile trip - Santiago |
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Saturday January 18th
We were lucky with the BC weather. After a week of gales and rain we had some really nice days, and we set off in the early hours just above freezing, passing through an icy fog midway, but there was little traffic on a Saturday morning. We left the Jeep at ParkNFly who were offering a month of parking near Vancouver airport, discounted to $99 instead of the usual $400 rate.
Our United frequent flyer ticket was actually on Air Canada. We had a one hour hop to Calgary in a sunny 9 degrees centigrade. After all the recent bad weather we were lucky to have an uneventful four hours to Toronto. There we had miles to walk to our connecting flight; luckily this was mostly on moving walkways, or `trottoirs` as the Quebecois cutely call them. We switched to a bigger plane and the weather was cold enough for it to need deicing; we took off with a full plane at midnight on a ten hour flight of about 5000 miles.
We flew in a straight line south over Miami and the Panama Canal, all hidden by darkness of course. Air Canada`s movie selection couldn`t keep anyone awake anyway.
Sunday January 19th
We arrived in Santiago around noon, just five hours ahead of BC time. As expected, it was sunny and warm, around 33C, 90F, but desert heat, low humidity. Visas for Chile are issued on entry, but Chile requires a “reciprocal fee” for citizens of countries that charge Chileans for visa applications. So Sandie was charged $132 for hers while mine was free. Luckily they didn`t also impose the usual months or years of the Canadian visa waiting period.
Chilean Customs define in detail what they consider “normal luggage” for incoming passengers, and I had to declare that I had more cameras than the norm. All incoming bags went through an X-ray machine, but I needn’t have worried as none of the officials looked at either the forms or the X-ray screen.
We paid for a taxi to take us into Santiago; the guy that shepherded us through the crowds to the money machine and the taxi rank in return for an exorbitant tip was probably a scam artist but I was too hot and tired to care. There was little traffic on a Sunday afternoon as the taxi took us along the river and between dry yellow hills; many similarities to the countryside around Madrid, except for the Andes Mountains in the distance. Every so often there would be a glimpse of something huge and white towering above the horizon. I’ve included a postcard picture of the city on a clear day so you can see how dramatic the city’s setting can be. 
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Santiago City |
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I’m not too keen on the concrete monstrosities, particularly in earthquake zones, and the Hotel Loreto is a modernized older building, just a few stories high. We had a comfortable bed and bathroom but no chairs or closet, just a rather nice patio and shared garden. At first the street looked rather run down but then we realized that the buildings were restaurants, closed and shuttered on a Sunday afternoon. We were in the Barrio Bellavista, just on the edge of El Centro, Santiago’s downtown.
We walked a short way to the Rio Mapocho, a concrete lined river, reduced in summer to a shallow rush of latte. It rarely rains during Santiago’s summer, so this was snowmelt from the Andes, much reduced by the city’s need for water. The concrete walls were covered with political graffiti on the grand scale. The river flows through the Parque Forestal, a narrow strip of trees and green, planted with canna, agapanthus, and oleanders. Most of the benches were occupied by sleeping men, 
some surrounded by rough shelters and shopping carts. No one was begging or aggressive.
Some of the bridges had informal markets, mostly poor second-hand stuff, but we found some fancier markets nearby, with stalls selling foods and all kinds of household goods, even a market devoted to fresh-cut flowers. Note the ads painted on the staircase risers. There were dozens of tiny cafes, cheap prices but probably a poor choice for delicate gringo stomachs.
We were looking for a less risky restaurant and found ourselves on the Paseo Ahumada, which seemed to be THE place to be on a Sunday afternoon. It’s a tree-shaded pedestrian street lined with department stores and busy with families shopping and watching the shows. Street performers provided song and dance and mime, even the local equivalent of a Punch’n’Judy show.
It looked like a paradise for pickpockets too, but pairs of policemen were on every corner. A couple of mounted police came through and one of the horses
took a dump in the middle of the crowd. We were surprised when one of the riders dismounted, borrowed a shovel from a street cleaner, and did her own clean-up.
Stray dogs were everywhere, but it was rare to see a leashed dog. The strays didn’t look to be starving; apparently the locals often feed them even though they don’t own them. Although strays and locals seemed to get on well, cyclists were obviously outside the truce. We saw cyclists dismount rather than risk a chase through the streets.
By accident we came to the Plaza de Armas, Santiago’s most famous square. It was boarded off for renovations, so we could only gawp through a gap in the boards. We had glimpses of statues and palms and gardens but had to settle for eating in the restaurant that used to have a view of the plaza. This was the first test of our Espanol. We ended up with a couple of beers and some sliced beef sandwiches, buried in a mound of green beans. Close enough!
We’d been out of bed for 36 hours and were five hours jetlagged, so we had no trouble collapsing back at the hotel. The evening had cooled off nicely.