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. 

He took off soon after.

His sidekick was not far behind.

I've decided that a blog, as with most things in life, is simply much better with a dog in it. 

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Quite a lot about a small part of Santiago.

“I grew up in this town, my poetry was born between the hill and the river, it took its voice from the rain, and like the timber, it steeped itself in the forests.”

– Pablo Neruda

Saddam Hussein is alive and he drives a taxi in Santiago. I saw him just the other day. I have now spent just over a week in Santiago, having arrived in less than ideal circumstances.  Getting from Brazil to Chile was not a pleasant experience, with a needless transfer not helping matters. The only positive from this leg of the journey being the moment I saw the Andes for the first time as I pressed my face against the window and watched them edge closer and closer. However, taking a flight at 2am out of Sao Paulo with 4am connections in Buenos Aires pretty much equates to no sleep at any stage of the process. Still, arriving in Chile and sweeping through passport control, appropriate soundtrack playing, left me feeling incredibly optimistic and excited for the adventure that lay ahead. Fatigue, dehydration, congealed toothpaste (see previous) and sleeplessness stepped aside to allow the bouncing excitement to rush in and do skips around the baggage belt. I had made it! Ayoba.

Andrew & Hayley, it's the Africa shirt!

Unfortunately my baggage had decided it would much rather spend the day in Buenos Aires instead, allowing the fatigue, dehydration, and sleeplessness to kick down the door of my disposition and violently evict the rowdy house-guests who were clearly enjoying the experience of arriving in a new country far too much. On the bright side, mine wasn’t the only luggage not to arrive in Santiago, on the down side, this meant standing in a three hour queue with a few hundred other luggageless persons.

 

All in all, the whole state of affairs resulted in the nadir of the trip so far, although I was reunited with my luggage within a day so all’s well that ends well; even if wet underwear from the beach in Brazil did not end well for the garments which surrounded it for 48 hours. Time since then has passed at an alarming rate, although I have attempted to learn a few things along the way.

I have learned that Spanish is not impossible even if I am fairly hopeless in comparison to many of the Americans in my programme. I have learned that I am not particularly good at Salsa, hopefully by the year’s end I can upgrade to the status “mostly harmless” in terms of stepping on people and swinging them into pillars. I have learned that only 4% of Chileans speak English which makes the overlap between my Spanish and their English incredibly narrow.

Big parks and plenty of big buildings. Santiago is a-buzzin'!

I have learned how to “Metro Surf” (good substitute for the “real” thing, involves standing with your legs apart and stiffened and not supporting yourself with hands on a jolty train; great for fitness and personal hygiene!). I have learned that Chile has excellent beer (a true mark of a civilized country), and that Chilean school-goers wear uniform (another mark of civilization). I learned other things too, such as the fact that all Chilean firefighters are dedicated volunteers and all their equipment is donated. Incredible. Aren’t volunteers just the best? I have just learned that three four of my friends are currently violently afflicted with food poisoning. I have also tried to learn a few things about Santiago too, although leaving the social incubator of the hostel requires a strong will, high SPF protection and a well-stocked wallet. And it is always worth it.

Love padlocks on a bridge. It's symbolic because they're locks

Santiago itself is what I would describe as a very “interesting” city. Narrow and colourful streets, beautiful parks, thousands of seemingly well-fed street dogs, glass highrises and tiny houses. The streets and public places are all canvases for some form of expression, and Santiaguinos must have an awful lot to express since no wall, street corner, park, or open plaza is wasted. This part of the city is covered with murals and various forms of street art, while busy intersections are guarded by clowns, jugglers, puppet shows and musicians of every variety (often in large groups). A quick walk around the block near Bellavista (between the hill and the river alluded to by the great Pablo Neruda) in the evening will carry the soundtrack of Ray Charles, symphonies by Elgar, and the occasional irrepressible drummer making rhythms I do not fully understand and probably never will.

There are quite a few charming little streets like this one about.

From about 4pm onwards, open plazas are the stages for street shows and morality plays (due to my lack of Spanish, I am never quite sure if these morality plays are highly controversial critiques of the Church or in fact appeals to faith). In any case, people have a lot to say and a lot to share, and a major stakeholder in Santiago’s streets, the dogs, are not marginalised from these forms of expression either; making up for an enthusiastic background cast who isn’t quite sure of the script but are just really excited to be there. And of course, impromptu salsa. The dogs are generally less able to contribute to those performances and steer clear. With this much to take in on a daily basis I have found it difficult/pointless to sleep. After all, this city never sleeps at night so why should I? This will catch up with me very soon I suspect.

Importantly, there is plenty of space to exercise and run. The parks are beautiful and well-used, with exercise equipment, miniature libraries and attractive landscaping. Chileans appear to be rich both spirit and in social capital. City running is not something I am remotely familiar with, but I have found that it is just like trail running: just substitute tree stumps for sleeping dogs, rocks for verges, boulders for prams, and high speed busses for...Running down quieter plane-tree’d streets has proven to be a fantastic distraction from the miserable process of finding a place to stay in Santiago (procrastination making it all the harder). Unfortunately, either due to my lack of fitness or the rather smoky atmosphere most of my sprints start strong before devolving into unflattering cycles of oral distress. Cough, hurl, spit. And repeat. I may just be sick, but how can anyone know either way? More running data needed before any meaningful conclusions may be drawn.

As you can see, I am quite fond of parks. I promise to take other pictures too.

No teaching as yet, with the week being spent on orientation at The Language Company, a business full of lovely people who are determined to ensure that nothing whatsoever goes wrong for us new residents of Santiago de Chile. Spent a perfect afternoon in good company on Cerro Santa Cristobal, according me my first view of smoky Santiago from a perspective other than street view. Taking a bus to the top, we were able to spend three hours at a perfectly situated swimming pool; an oasis of grass, landscaping, and a huge crystal clear pool to restore the mind. From this outlook I was also able to confirm what I had long suspected, that Santiago is a really big city which I could not cross in a day, even if astride the fastest Llama in the land. It was truly fantastic to gain some perspective on where I am at last, to know what kind of city I will be dealing with for the year ahead, and to realize that there is just so much I have to learn and see.

I like it here. 

A Santiago street dog, woken up by yours truly for the photo, and petted for his troubles.