Santiago like you´ve never gone before
Jojo and I have made it Santiago, one of the richest cities in South America. It shows. It feels like Europe, with all the old school beauty, all the old school traditions, and all the old. Architecture shows it´s age here like an ancient book, cover smooth from handling, pages yellowing and heavy with the scents of time passing by. Some buildings are so old they are falling down, but like any serious metroplis, they are being propped back up. But Europe is not all glitz and modernity, it´s also dirty and corrupt in parts. There is poverty and inequity, and by now it´s tradition.
Jojo and I took a 26 hour bus ride on the Santiago Express route from Arica. We left on the 16th at 1:30 pm and arrived at around 3:30 pm on the 17th. Arica is an 8 hour drive from La Paz, but it took us 13 hours due to more crazy stops and delays than I know how to write. The ride down from La Paz is breathtaking, and anyone (especially my Father) would be entranced by the valleys and a longing to return would take seed in any fertile imagination. Snow capped peaks skyscrape over rippling fields and lakes. My legs dreamed of stretching to beanstalk proportions and my feet of arcing through kilometers of brush as i stride through the clouds and peaks. I will return for the longing planted by my sunset views out the windows of our semi-cama bus have already begun growing.
Thankfully it is on my way back, and as this story wends through time and place so does my mind and my heart. A mountain pass, a high border check, passports out, passports in, we cross into Chile without fanfare and without expectations, only anticipation of the unknown yet to come. It was after midnight when we arrived in Arica, and it was to be just under 13 hours we were to stay. We could have stayed longer, and indded we may, upon our return, for there is beach that stretches for miles and miles in Arica, and hippies that live and share there (or so we´ve been told). But Arica was just a bed, and a TV in a hotel room for 9 hours. We watched American´s speaking English and fell asleep in a cama built for two. No semi cama for us, not the first night on the road.
We awoke after a full night´s rest and walked across the street to the bus station. We took the hotel closest and safest our guidebook offered, because Santiago beckoned, and we had no desire but to be on with our way. We heeded this call and found an express bus leaving in one hour. Just enough time to get some food in our bellies and some for the road. We booked seats together, far enough from the baño and close enough to the TV for comfort in all directions, but comfort does not come easy when seated for 26 hours. In fact, my rear is telling me to keep it short right now, so I will not digress.
The ride was wobbly and mostly smooth, at first through light sandy desert, then into rockier desert and as the foliage thickened and the cactuss sprouted, the sun dropped and the stars came out, the moon rose to our left, out the window Jojo accompanied. We ate the meals they brought, and got off periodically for the bathroom stops provided. We bought snacks and turned down offerings of others... a rythm of waiting pulsed in our collective bodies and internal clocks. How long could it take... how many hours had passed, had the sun set once or twice... how does waiting change the passage of time, or has it stopped completely.
I watched as the passengers dozed off one by one. My length too long again, I sagged, flipped, and stretched into the asile, feet hanging akimbo. I stared out the window at unnoticed stretches of road passed by. I pondered architecture and dreamed of places yet to be, and yet to be discovered. Finally i fell asleep, deep and complete, unaware of my discomfort or the presence of 40 or so other people dreaming all around.
__________________________________________________
I awoke suddenly to Men In Black 2 on the TV and Jojo awake next to me. I had no idea how long i´d slept or if indded I really had, but my watch told me to stop being silly and accept the (suprising) well reseted feeling in my brain, but my body spoke of no such relief. Waking did come gradually and the morning passed. The candelabra cactus bloomed on the side of the road and the sea came in and out of view as we made our way south. The sun roudned the sides of the bus like the hills weathered to the bare needs of nature we passed over, under, and around.
Our bus mates were friendly and varied and we all made due with each other and our conversation skills (or lack thereof). The food came again for lunch and by the time it was done the spreading breath of a foul beast called modern development reached the landscape around us. Santiago pounced on us like a elephant on a mollusk, and with all the inevitability you can imagine we arrived.
The scramble for luggage from the bus was hilarious and necessary. Pick pockets and petty theivs are a byproduct of wealth and tourism, and we were not caught unaware. Jojo and I located ourselves on our map and chose Barrio Brazil (the East Village of Santiago (there´s even what appears to be a Canal Street on our southern edge!)) and headed off to the Plaza Brasil to use the internet to contact friends here. The plaza is also in close proximity to some hostels in my book. We contacted the great wide interweb and headed off to find housing. The first place we found was actually down the street from the hostel we intended to check. Ít was a VERy nice place with matching prices, but it was our ultimate destination as the cheaper alternative down the street was full. It is a very nice place and we will get our 27,000 pesos out of it if it kills us.
A private room and bath with a nice big soft bed. Our travel sores and woes will be soothed by this peaceful retreat, and by then we will be ready for the final leg in our trek to Puerto Montt. Deborah and Rolf are expecting us and we will meet them as planned. Until then, we explore Santiago! Any recommendations or suggestions are welcome (Mike!) and I wish the best to you all, and may love fill your hearts and minds. Until we meet again, Best,
Eli
Jojo and I took a 26 hour bus ride on the Santiago Express route from Arica. We left on the 16th at 1:30 pm and arrived at around 3:30 pm on the 17th. Arica is an 8 hour drive from La Paz, but it took us 13 hours due to more crazy stops and delays than I know how to write. The ride down from La Paz is breathtaking, and anyone (especially my Father) would be entranced by the valleys and a longing to return would take seed in any fertile imagination. Snow capped peaks skyscrape over rippling fields and lakes. My legs dreamed of stretching to beanstalk proportions and my feet of arcing through kilometers of brush as i stride through the clouds and peaks. I will return for the longing planted by my sunset views out the windows of our semi-cama bus have already begun growing.
Thankfully it is on my way back, and as this story wends through time and place so does my mind and my heart. A mountain pass, a high border check, passports out, passports in, we cross into Chile without fanfare and without expectations, only anticipation of the unknown yet to come. It was after midnight when we arrived in Arica, and it was to be just under 13 hours we were to stay. We could have stayed longer, and indded we may, upon our return, for there is beach that stretches for miles and miles in Arica, and hippies that live and share there (or so we´ve been told). But Arica was just a bed, and a TV in a hotel room for 9 hours. We watched American´s speaking English and fell asleep in a cama built for two. No semi cama for us, not the first night on the road.
We awoke after a full night´s rest and walked across the street to the bus station. We took the hotel closest and safest our guidebook offered, because Santiago beckoned, and we had no desire but to be on with our way. We heeded this call and found an express bus leaving in one hour. Just enough time to get some food in our bellies and some for the road. We booked seats together, far enough from the baño and close enough to the TV for comfort in all directions, but comfort does not come easy when seated for 26 hours. In fact, my rear is telling me to keep it short right now, so I will not digress.
The ride was wobbly and mostly smooth, at first through light sandy desert, then into rockier desert and as the foliage thickened and the cactuss sprouted, the sun dropped and the stars came out, the moon rose to our left, out the window Jojo accompanied. We ate the meals they brought, and got off periodically for the bathroom stops provided. We bought snacks and turned down offerings of others... a rythm of waiting pulsed in our collective bodies and internal clocks. How long could it take... how many hours had passed, had the sun set once or twice... how does waiting change the passage of time, or has it stopped completely.
I watched as the passengers dozed off one by one. My length too long again, I sagged, flipped, and stretched into the asile, feet hanging akimbo. I stared out the window at unnoticed stretches of road passed by. I pondered architecture and dreamed of places yet to be, and yet to be discovered. Finally i fell asleep, deep and complete, unaware of my discomfort or the presence of 40 or so other people dreaming all around.
__________________________________________________
I awoke suddenly to Men In Black 2 on the TV and Jojo awake next to me. I had no idea how long i´d slept or if indded I really had, but my watch told me to stop being silly and accept the (suprising) well reseted feeling in my brain, but my body spoke of no such relief. Waking did come gradually and the morning passed. The candelabra cactus bloomed on the side of the road and the sea came in and out of view as we made our way south. The sun roudned the sides of the bus like the hills weathered to the bare needs of nature we passed over, under, and around.
Our bus mates were friendly and varied and we all made due with each other and our conversation skills (or lack thereof). The food came again for lunch and by the time it was done the spreading breath of a foul beast called modern development reached the landscape around us. Santiago pounced on us like a elephant on a mollusk, and with all the inevitability you can imagine we arrived.
The scramble for luggage from the bus was hilarious and necessary. Pick pockets and petty theivs are a byproduct of wealth and tourism, and we were not caught unaware. Jojo and I located ourselves on our map and chose Barrio Brazil (the East Village of Santiago (there´s even what appears to be a Canal Street on our southern edge!)) and headed off to the Plaza Brasil to use the internet to contact friends here. The plaza is also in close proximity to some hostels in my book. We contacted the great wide interweb and headed off to find housing. The first place we found was actually down the street from the hostel we intended to check. Ít was a VERy nice place with matching prices, but it was our ultimate destination as the cheaper alternative down the street was full. It is a very nice place and we will get our 27,000 pesos out of it if it kills us.
A private room and bath with a nice big soft bed. Our travel sores and woes will be soothed by this peaceful retreat, and by then we will be ready for the final leg in our trek to Puerto Montt. Deborah and Rolf are expecting us and we will meet them as planned. Until then, we explore Santiago! Any recommendations or suggestions are welcome (Mike!) and I wish the best to you all, and may love fill your hearts and minds. Until we meet again, Best,
Eli
posted by Greenstigator at 2:05 PM
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