santiago
Thankfully it was an uneventful flight to Santiago. I had feared I was in for more Andes induced cloud bumping but it was smooth and comfortable. Maybe I am not developing a flying phobia after all.
The rugby scrum of taxi touts and oddballs outside the airport terminal wasn't the best introduction to the Capital of Chile it has to be said. I got a bus to the centre and in my eagerness for adventure I promptly got completely lost by going in the opposite direction to where I figured I could locate a decent hotel. Of course, any logical person would have got a taxi. Far too straightforward.
Finding a hotel with available rooms was a bit of a niggle too. Given the problems with the bus network it wasn't too far fetched to think that accommodation would be a problem too. But fortunately it wasn't. I found a place fittingly called 'San Patricio' which as a family run hotel was a whirlwind of their screaming kids. I booked my five nights in readiness for any problems should more customers pile in. Normally I pay one night at a time in case I decide the hotel is, in fact, rubbish.
The first day I explored the city and I must confess that it is the most beautiful of South America's capitals that I have visited so far. Lovely parks and great public buildings. Around the Plaza preparations were in full swing for the Independence Day Procession and its associated fiesta´s. Banners, flags and much dancing. The traditional Chilean dance is quite good to watch for a while. The particpants are dressed in traditional garb ( frilly skirt for the girls and a sombero and cowboy boots for the blokes) and they dance with much foot stomping while frantically waving a white hankerchief over their heads. I was soon over exposed and shamefully bored.
Nightlife is a bit of a let down. I am sure it is great but to me, it is a matter of timing too. The boozers I found had no form of life in them until 11pm and the nightclubs don't get started until after 2pm. Maybe it's my Irish blood but I am not suited to the siesta and therefore by those times I am usually thinking about how many more I should have before calling it a night. I did get plastered though and managed to make a bit of a fool of myself when at the third venue. There I was most unimpressed by the wine glass I was given with my bottle of cabernet. Too femine! In between uproarious applause from me at the Kenny G impressario, I demanded a glass that less resembled a vase. Eventually in frustration at my incomprehensible Spanish, they brought a brandy glass the size of tumble. I submitted.
For the next three days virtually nothing happened. Everything was closed. Everything in the central area at least. On Independence Day itself I popped along to the main plaza to see the celebrations and it was all over by noon. It was pretty short lived or maybe I just went to the wrong place. I figured the main plaza would be focal point for the celebration but it was all a bit of a let down. The next day was a national holiday too. This time to celebrate the national army. Much miltary music and marching. But the uniform of the Chilean army is suspiciously nazi in style and colour. I know it is a ceremonial uniform but it is uncanny. I waited for vicious oratory but none came.
There is a nice Chilean practice with some of their coffee shops. There are varying degrees of coffee shops. The more upclass coffee shops have very stylish and beautiful women serving coffee in stylettos. High helms. The bar is cut away underneath so the punters can contemplate the ladies legs while sipping their coffee. This type of shop can be peered into from outside. Then at the other extreme are those shops which have blacked out windows. Customers can salvilate about young ladies wearing very little and suggestively attired. More a pole dancing place but without the pole and beer. These Santiago institutions are called generically ´Coffee with Legs'. Guess which type I liked when in need of an expresso?
Soon my friend would arrive and we would be `'heading' to the most remote inhabited place on earth, Easter Island. A 3700km flight to see 163 square km of land in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. I was looking forward to straw skirts and coconut bras.
The rugby scrum of taxi touts and oddballs outside the airport terminal wasn't the best introduction to the Capital of Chile it has to be said. I got a bus to the centre and in my eagerness for adventure I promptly got completely lost by going in the opposite direction to where I figured I could locate a decent hotel. Of course, any logical person would have got a taxi. Far too straightforward.
Finding a hotel with available rooms was a bit of a niggle too. Given the problems with the bus network it wasn't too far fetched to think that accommodation would be a problem too. But fortunately it wasn't. I found a place fittingly called 'San Patricio' which as a family run hotel was a whirlwind of their screaming kids. I booked my five nights in readiness for any problems should more customers pile in. Normally I pay one night at a time in case I decide the hotel is, in fact, rubbish.
The first day I explored the city and I must confess that it is the most beautiful of South America's capitals that I have visited so far. Lovely parks and great public buildings. Around the Plaza preparations were in full swing for the Independence Day Procession and its associated fiesta´s. Banners, flags and much dancing. The traditional Chilean dance is quite good to watch for a while. The particpants are dressed in traditional garb ( frilly skirt for the girls and a sombero and cowboy boots for the blokes) and they dance with much foot stomping while frantically waving a white hankerchief over their heads. I was soon over exposed and shamefully bored.
Nightlife is a bit of a let down. I am sure it is great but to me, it is a matter of timing too. The boozers I found had no form of life in them until 11pm and the nightclubs don't get started until after 2pm. Maybe it's my Irish blood but I am not suited to the siesta and therefore by those times I am usually thinking about how many more I should have before calling it a night. I did get plastered though and managed to make a bit of a fool of myself when at the third venue. There I was most unimpressed by the wine glass I was given with my bottle of cabernet. Too femine! In between uproarious applause from me at the Kenny G impressario, I demanded a glass that less resembled a vase. Eventually in frustration at my incomprehensible Spanish, they brought a brandy glass the size of tumble. I submitted.
For the next three days virtually nothing happened. Everything was closed. Everything in the central area at least. On Independence Day itself I popped along to the main plaza to see the celebrations and it was all over by noon. It was pretty short lived or maybe I just went to the wrong place. I figured the main plaza would be focal point for the celebration but it was all a bit of a let down. The next day was a national holiday too. This time to celebrate the national army. Much miltary music and marching. But the uniform of the Chilean army is suspiciously nazi in style and colour. I know it is a ceremonial uniform but it is uncanny. I waited for vicious oratory but none came.
There is a nice Chilean practice with some of their coffee shops. There are varying degrees of coffee shops. The more upclass coffee shops have very stylish and beautiful women serving coffee in stylettos. High helms. The bar is cut away underneath so the punters can contemplate the ladies legs while sipping their coffee. This type of shop can be peered into from outside. Then at the other extreme are those shops which have blacked out windows. Customers can salvilate about young ladies wearing very little and suggestively attired. More a pole dancing place but without the pole and beer. These Santiago institutions are called generically ´Coffee with Legs'. Guess which type I liked when in need of an expresso?
Soon my friend would arrive and we would be `'heading' to the most remote inhabited place on earth, Easter Island. A 3700km flight to see 163 square km of land in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. I was looking forward to straw skirts and coconut bras.
posted by Ciarán at 6:33 p.m.
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