Exploring, Learning, and Living. : Exploring, Getting Lost, Standing on Busses

“Roots are not in a landscape or a country or a people, they are inside you.”

– Isabel Allende

A very good day.

It’s my third week in Santiago and I think I have finally gained an idea of where I am, more or less. It has been a very eventful couple of weeks in the city of endless energy, with highlights including commuting to work, actually working, finding a place to stay, attending some real live football, having impassioned debates with various travellers, having impassioned but probably unintelligible conversations with Chileans in Spanish, and of course, more running around under plane trees and petting stray animals.

A major part of my daily routine involves making the great trek from the concrete and glass jungles of downtown Santiago, across the crowded plains of the business district, and into the distant steppes of the greener residential areas of the town. As such, I have been able to become very familiar with a much larger part of Santiago than my lazier self would normally explore on a daily basis. Consequently, I have had the pleasure of becoming very familiar with the way people buzz around this city, the TranSantiago bus and metro network.

Blue & Glass

I have found Santiago’s public transport system to be simply world class. Efficient, clean, timely, and highly reliable. Unfortunately, it seems that a number of other people have cottoned on to this fact and as such most trips are spent standing up with a level of physical contact to dispel any loneliness and warm the body and soul. The busses are well ventilated though, for now. Winter is coming. I expect then the windows will be closed and naturally produced C02 relied upon as the main heating agent. In any case, as much as commuting is a long process, it is also a stress-free one for the most part; and the iPod makes for excellent company most of the time. And there is no better feeling than stepping onto the bus home at the end of a long day, swiping the card, hearing the comforting bleep it makes, before looking out the window to see the Andes towering above Santiago’s reflective glass jungle turn to gold and then pink. This city is truly beautiful in the evening and for now I am grateful for starting my return journey at 7pm on most days.

Apart from the whole teaching English part of Santiago life, much time and angst has been used on trying to find a place to stay. Unfortunately, it is important to be able to sleep indoors as well as eat on one’s salary, which rules out the flashier and better located pads to entertain with. Unfortunately, emailing and phoning landlords and tenants in Spanish is a challenge I failed to rise to; complicating matters further. There also seemed to be an alarming discrepancy between what was advertised online (in terms of number of rooms, price, services, address, etc.) and harsh reality. But all’s well that ends well, and I managed to find a well-located new apartment to share with two other English teachers for a very reasonable price. Of course, I’ll be sharing a bunk bed, but that just leaves more room for activities! Internet and cable TV included too, so I will be able to get heavily invested in the local soap operas which are as captivating as 7de Laan, well-acted as Egoli, and as well produced as Scandal. I cannot wait.

Neptune!

I am actually going to miss living in Hostel Providencia. In no place have I had to engage as much of my French, German, Spanish, and even Afrikaans (for Dutch folks) before. All too often, I mangle these romantic languages together by accident, and am amazed to still be understood. In fact, I have a better rate of being understood when I mangle another language than when I attempt to speak my own. I have no idea what kind of accent I will have by the end of this, however I was thrilled to meet a South African yesterday who managed to tell that I was from Cape Town (something many Capetonians are unable to do). Inclement sleeping patterns aside, it is amazing how many like-minded and interesting travelling souls I have gotten to meet here. Enjoying a glass of wine with lovely backpacking Canadians, Englishmen, outrageous Frenchmen, various expats who left home for a few weeks years ago and decided against returning, the friendliest and only Columbian I have ever met, and so on and on with every passing day. Every day there is new insight, and for the most part, stimulating conversation to be had. Chilean wine is excellent by the way, much like Stellenbosch where the low end of the price range is still able to produce a high quality vintage.

I was lucky enough to meet some warm and welcoming Chileans who took me and a few friends to a Colo Colo football match one day. According to many I have spoken to “Colo Colo, is Chile.” The day itself was an unforgettable experience, nevermind the 90 minutes of actual football on display. Taking the metro to the game, we had the pleasure of sharing the carriage with about 50 Colo Colo fans, who spent the entire journey to the stadium singing, jumping simultaneously to shake the train almost off its rails, while hammering their fists on the ceiling. I presume the objective was to be loud, and they succeeded in that regard. Hundreds poured deafeningly onto the platform upon our arrival. Stadium security was extreme, with riot police never far away (and they were to be called into action after the game), and the terraces were divided by ten feet of barbed wire between more dedicated fans (the ones who set off sound bombs), and those who merely jump around with their shirts off.

Santa Lucia.

I was in footballing fandom heaven. The crowd never stopped singing and bouncing. Tough crowd to please too, if I translated some of the phrases yelled towards the pitch correctly. It seems everybody had an awful lot to say about the players’ mothers – which I suppose is only logical since they brought such talented athletes into the world and deserve all the recognition accorded to them by the terraces. Heaven forbid, I might pick it up. In an end-to-end and quite frustrating contest, Colo Colo and Nublense shared the spoils 1-1. The result did not deter me, or anyone, from jumping as much as possible, shirts swinging aloft.

Deep in thought.

No idea.

The shoes that get me absolutely everywhere.

As an update, some key points: I am still yet to leave Santiago, although I do have immediate plans to do so. I am still awful at Salsa dancing. A steak should always be covered by fried eggs. As should most foods actually. Greeting people with a kiss on the cheek needs to be instinctive in order to not be awkwardly ruined by jaw collisions; and it isn’t instinctive just yet. Football fans are universally wonderfully optimistic and tireless. The later it is in the evening, the friendlier and more playful the street dogs get and the more likely I am to pet them. I officially do not qualify as “a gringo” according to two Chileans I have met, rendering the title of this blog obsolete. The city is filled with new surprises every single day, a personal highlight being a full-equipped Iron Man standing on a street corner; looking on dispassionately at the frivolous comings and goings. Fridays are reserved for protest action, which is nice. Protests do sometimes end in tears(gas), which is not nice. Rides in lifts are seldom awkward, because the friendliness of Santiaguinos makes you step off at your floor with a smile and a muttered salutation on any day.

I have been out of South Africa for one month now, a period which can seem incredibly long and also like no time at all. I am morbidly fascinated to see how time will distort itself at my expense over the next nine months.