2010-03-09
This was a day of firsts for me in Santiago. We took the Metrored from Nuble to Baquedano, which is a big station in el Centro (downtown) and the connection between the important green and red lines.
We made our way to O’Higgins, which includes one of the nicer parks I’ve seen in the city so far right between the two directions of the boulevard. Once again, I was impressed by the sheer amount of life going on… maybe it’s just that I’ve been trapped by winter for too long, but this city seems to pulse with activity everywhere you look. Bustling business men, gaggles of penguins (as they call college students in uniform) and couples strewn throughout, being romantic like there’s no tomorrow.
At 30 degrees Celcius, I spent most of the day hydrating with my new favorite: aqua con gas—bubbly water. I did indulge in a little cafeine, though, in the form of a Coke Light. Seems that here, “diet” just wouldn’t fly and I must say it is less embarrassing to order a Light with your papas fritas (fries), than a diet.
Without a single cloud in the sky, the sun was a force to be reckoned with. I’m definitely not complaining, but my melanin-poor skin was feeling the power. We stopped in una pharmacia, for some protection, and two things popped out.
The first was that all the sunscreen available was SPF 50 and up. A definite hint that I should’ve creamed up before heading out. The other was the fact that every single article was behind the counter. You pretty much have to know what your looking for as there isn’t much browsing to be done in most stores around here.
It seems Chileans have a reputation as thieves. I don’t know how warranted that is, but store owners seem to take it seriously because almost every store we visited thereafter was the same.
We then crossed the rio Mapocho, at this time of year a shriveled version of itself with turbulent brown waters rushing westward (I think), and headed to barrio Bellavista. This felt a lot like old Montreal, with handicrafts for sale behind expensive windows. The restaurants were inviting but the entire area felt like something of a tourist trap, so we skipped over most of it and head back to the center.
After a long journey through a busy but rather standard downtown area, we hit Plaza de Armas. It is a large plaza, with street performers and a fountain enjoyed by many as a source of quick cooling action. L and I partook in the joy of getting soaked, then headed down a pedestrian street packed with vendors, tourists and locals.
We had mote con huesillos, an odd mix of boiled peaches and oats served cold, that was tasty, refreshing and provided some much needed energy. We turned off, back towards el centro, in search of barrio Brasil which rumour indicated was a bit more bohemian and real.
After stopping off at one of the many internet shops, to buy a little time and let everyone know we’d actually made it down here, we proceeded haphazerdly towards Brasil.
After about 30 minutes of walking, we were melting in the afternoon sun, from which our only protection was a layer of smog that masked the Andes most of the day. Breaking down, we stopped to have a look at the Lonely Planet book for directions. The maps within, though helpful, aren’t all that detailed but, as we sat there scratching our heads, a man passing by groked our predicament and indicated that we were actually only a few streets away from our goal.
On Brasil, we found what we were looking for: palm trees and patios. We took our first real break off the street, in a german-themed bar with tables on the sidewalk, Chucrut. With a litre of Escudo in hand, we absorbed the buena onda (good wave/vibe) of this popular little place and the area.
We’d read about the casa roja (red house), which is backpacker central and a combination hostel and restaurant. It looks like a cool place, and we’re considering staying there a few nights but instead headed to Las Vachas Gordas. It’s unclear whether the name, “The Fat Cows”, refers to the source of carne or the clientele, consider the insane size of the portions of protein.
Though rather fancy, we walked in dressed as pattiperros (backpackers/hoboes) yet were treated as kings. I’m glad I ordered the ensalada with, what I thought was, a steak because the little roast that arrived in my plate was enough for four. Linda had hers “al pobre”, i.e. With fries… and two eggs dumped on top. One meal and you have enough protein for three days. Cooked to perfection, an impressive feat considering the thickness. Highly recommended, if your in barrio Brasil.
After that, we wandered back towards the metro slightly intoxicated and after another little tour of Santa Lucia, headed to our temporary home base in Nunoa.
As I type this in the front yard, behind the fence everyone has around there house, L and her cousin are having a convesation. I get a good portion of the spanish, but far from all of it. Since I wasn’t paying attention, I was startled when L, her cousin and her cousin’s son, jumped up and headed towards the house while L stood guard in front of me. “What’s going on?” “The police… they shoot people here, they do whatever they want.”. Hmm, ok. Maybe I’ll keep my nighttime wandering out of the ghetto for now.
