Okay, fine, the city grew on me.

At the beginning of the trip, I met one single backpacker who had anything positive to say about Santiago. Three weeks later, I had yet to meet another. One group of backpackers was yelled at by con artists until they got confused and their bag with two passports and all credit cards was stolen, leaving them stuck in random cities for too long. My friend Lee had her money taken in our hostel. So yes, be paranoid.

Christine, who I later met in Argentina, said she had just arrived at the Santiago bus terminal and a sweet old lady approached her to let her know she had pigeon poop on her backpack. My friend put down her smaller bag so she could take off the bigger one to see, only to find no poop, and turned back around to the convenient disappearance of both the lady and her small bag with all the things that actually matter (passport).

Obviously all of these misfortunes happen every minute and are characteristic of big cities, not any one specific city. No one can blame Santiago. We will always meet far more good people than bad,  but it leaves the victim with a bad taste that’s impossible to forget.

I will note that BUS TERMINALS are where so much shit happens. Travelers are so vulnerable. They have all their belongings physically on them, they’re disoriented, tired, alone, the sun hasn’t come up yet or has already gone down, and so on. It’s hard to put on a bitch face when you’re a little desperate for a clue in a new city.

I met a traveler who was almost mugged when leaving the bus terminal in Buenos Aires. His GPS took him off the main road and suddenly two men appeared, jumping him. One reached in his belt to draw a gun, thankfully he was faking it. I wouldn’t recommend this, but Tommy took some punches at them and they ran off. He said even if they really had a gun, he’s not sure he would’ve physically been able to just hand over his bags… Point is, it’s not Santiago, it’s being vulnerable or confused.

But yes I like you Santiago. Sorry all these scary stories went into your post.

 

 

Having just returned from Easter Island, I took some time in the city to write and plan, as opposed to doing tons of activities. Do I go south, to the Lakes District, or head straight to Argentina? I was applying to workaways like crazy—chocolate factories and raspberry farms in northern Patagonia, strawberry picking and surfing in Chile, building sustainable “eco-ships” in Argentina.

Awful hostels was another common complaint here and I had experienced one firsthand. To better organize myself after a bit of couchsurfing, I picked the comfortable Hostel Providencia at $15 per night, or the upper end of my budget. I became close with my roommates and survived on the breakfast buffet. Eggs, rolls, spreads which of course includes dulce de leche, cereal, and lots of fruit. The largest hostel in Chile, Providencia had very hot showers, great location, and nightly activities, including free terremotos on Wednesday nights.

Many hours of staring at computer and phone screens later, I found a new direction. I was accepted to volunteer at a spiritual community in rural Brazil, allowing me to enjoy the countryside and yoga classes with seven other volunteers from around the world. With set dates, I was now on a mission to cross the continent in two weeks. I had to pray the borders wouldn’t be closed to snowstorms, make the most out of my blitz through Argentina, and visit the breathtaking Iguazu waterfalls.

 

So what did I actually do in Santiago?

To get around, the metro became a good friend of mine, $1 per ride. From the SCL airport, Centropuerto busses go to the Pajaritos metro station for $2.30.

I can’t call it delicious, but there are some fun dishes and beverages in this region, essentially the same as what I’ve described in Valparaiso.

 

 

Day 24

Francisco, my Couchsurf host, took better care of me than my parents have in a decade. He immediately gave me keys, a big soft towel, city maps with main points circled, and offered all his food for breakfast. He was so healthy I almost felt like I was working with my own pantry, a first in here South America. I basically had the days to myself and a real home to come back to.

He has lived my ultimate dream, completing a backpacking trip that lasted four years. His favorite food are momos, because the most addicting food is always found in Asia. The Nepalese snack is a steamed rice bun eaten with a spicy dipping sauce.

I had a good day doing a free walking tour. In hindsight it would be have been better to use this time and actually visit sites such as famous poet Pablo Neruda’s house, instead of get an overview of so many, only to be pressured into giving a large tip at the end. The lunch break lasted too long at a mediocre restaurant, and our noses stung from the teargas being sprayed on the streets to break up student protests.

I learned about the “coffee with legs” culture in Santiago, coffee shops with tinted windows targeting old men as the waitresses wear tight clothes and heels. The indigenous Mapuches have no written language. “Chile” doesn’t mean cold or spicy, the country’s name comes from an Incan word. And the Patagonian indigenous populations were completely wiped out by Europeans.

I explored the city’s large markets, appreciating how cheap persimmons are in Chile. I tried mote con huesillo, a cold desert of canned peaches and syrup over boiled barley. Or maybe everything here is so sugary that I consider normal snacks to be deserts. Outside Mercado Central I found cazuela, hot soup with meat, veggies, and rice.

 

Day 25

I worked, then went for a walk in the evening, passing by the start of a crazy night on Pionono street. With nearby universities supplying a young crowd, Bellavista is the city’s modern district and contains popular bars and restaurants. That night Chile was playing Jamaica.

I loved Tara. The only girl in our room when I checked in, she was the coolest because she played for the Swedish hockey team. She didn’t know what workaway was and in the short time I was taking a walk, she had registered and gotten accepted by a project in Colombia, some sort of dreamy yoga-farm-hostel combo.

We immediately befriended our next roommate, Natalia from Brazil. The three of us went to a touristy restaurant in Bellavista called Galindos, which stays open until 3am. We got the Chilean dishes recommended by the free tour: pastel de choclo, like shepherd’s pie with a cornbread mash replacing the potatoes, and porotos chanados, a white bean and corn soup. Everyone else was ordering Chorrillanas and steaks but these were so much better.

 

Day 26: Gone Sandboarding

 

Day 27

Nope, equestrian shows are not for me. Or Tara.

We met Anna, my friend I got to know on Easter Island, for the free event at the Escuela Militar.

Something else I can go my whole life without ever doing again is eating churassco sandwiches at Domino.

 

Day 28

Ambitious with our plans as always, Tara and I hiked Cerro San Cristobal with a stray dog first thing in the morning. I’m so bad at walking uphill. The trails were ill-marked, we took one to the left of the zoo, the same zoo where a man fed himself to the lions a week before.

Breakfast of the Broke Backpacker: two bowls of chocolate cereal with milk, three hard-boiled eggs, three rolls slathered with butter and/or cheese and jam, two mugs of coffee, OJ, pear, apple, two oranges.

Lunch: N/A

Dinner: N/A