Wharf Rat

It was time to take a trip out of Valpo and experience the Chilean capital of Santiago. I packed up my bag on Saturday and hoofed it on down to the bus station, which also happens to be right across from the Congress building. I definitely didn´t get a jump on the day because my friend Sara, who also studied at Western, and I were out late the night before. I had the supreme privilege to be present during her karaoke debut. Is there a more appropriate first karaoke song than Journey´s "Don´t Stop Believin"? I personally can´t think of one.

I´m sure you´ve experienced the sensation of "sensory overload" many times before. The feeling of everything happening all around you at once washed over me immediately after getting off the bus. Trying to figure out where you´re going, staying aware of the personal space around you AND trying to take in the sights to gain a first impression of a new place can be hard to juggle indeed. My strategy is to first and foremost stay aware of the space directly around me, but also to notice the individuals in the immediate and surrounding vicinity. Then I start to tackle where I need to get to, and last but not least is gaining the first impression of an unfamiliar location. A good bit advice I once learned from "Hitchhiker´s Guide to the Galaxy" is Don´t Panic. It´s natural to feel overwhelmed when sensory overload kicks in, but problems can arise when the symptoms visibly manifest themselves in your person.

Arriving in the immense city about an hour before sunset, I jumped on the Metro, which we might call a subway, heading for the vague destination of Barrio Bellavista. After knocking on the doors of 4 hostels that were completely full up, I started to get a little nervous. I would pay more money to stay in a legitimate hotel before curling up in a bush somewhere. Luckily it didn´t come to either of these last resorts and I ended up finding a room at the inn at "Hostel Providencia". Dropping off my bag in the room, I headed back down the street, past Plaza Italia, to the lively sector of Pio Nono. Just walking down the street was a trip in itself. The bars and restaurants, or restobars, as Chilean business owners are fond of calling them, leave pedestrians a small lane on the sidewalk to pass through. Tables and chairs stocked with happy bodies and the overenthusiastic host obstruct an easy passage. Not that I aspire to hermit status, but just wasn´t quite ready for this extreme hustle and bustle of the main drag, I decided to seek out a Moroccan joint the guidebook mentioned called "Ali Baba". After hanging a few starboards and ports, I found what used to be the restaurant they were talking about. This wasn´t, by any means the first business or museum that the "2010" guidebook had led me astary on. I can only figure that because of the 8.5 earthquake in Consunción last February, many of the businesses and museums that were there when Lonely Planet came through had to move or shut down. Anyways, I explored some more and eventually stumbled on a place called "Istanbul" which specialized in one of my absolute favorite foods, the kebab. If you´ve never had kebab before, it´s a Middle Eastern sandwich type deal that resembles a gyro. With vertical,spinning posts of beef and chicken from which the meat is shaved. Accompanying this carniverous treat in a grilled piece of flatbread were spiced onions, tomatoes, lettuce, something resembling ranch dressing and spiced ketchup. A relatively inexpensive and delicious meal.

The next day I woke up early, okay I woke up at 8:30 and attacked the day with touristic ferocity. Gosh darnit, I´m gonna get my time and money´s worth out of this capital city. On Sundays most of the museums around town waive the entrance fee. El Museo de Bellas Artes was the first stop of the day. In the museum´s main hall college students were busy producing their own versions of bellas artes. One of my favorite exhibits was the film "The Last Silent Movie", which consisted of audio/visual recordings of languages that are now considered endangered or extinct. After a few well-spent hours of musing around the museum, I leather-tramped it over to Museo Histórico Nacional, which showcased some absolutely great paraphenalia from colonial times, the revolution and reconstruction periods and even more contemporary pieces. Half of Marxist President Salvador Allende´s token eyeglasses were on display in a glass case. All the Chilean newspapers were forced to report that he committed suicide after the golpe de estado, or rather, coup d´ etat carried out my the military on September 11th, 1973, but he was most definitely murdered. In another museum I stumbled onto some footage a reporter had captured of the brutal takeover in front of La Moneda, the palace where the president and congress reside. Shots echoed throughout the streets for hours, tanks reinforced the military´s dominating presence, airstrikes from overhead caused massive devastation and the firefighters were ordered not to intervene. In one part of  the documentary, the military even starts shooting at the very room in which the reporter and his staff are located. Elections were called off and anyone that was seen as a "threat" to the dictatorship started disappearing including reporters, leftist politicians, professors, protestors and even your everyday Joes.

Back to the less pertinent narrative, my stomach was-a-rumblin´ after the second museum of the day, so I set out with grabbing a bite to eat in mind. Mercado Central is a huge indoor fish market with accompanying seafood restaurants to boot. Not being especially partial to seafood, I rambled on to the outskirts of the market and found a more low key joint to endulge my palate. The typical Chilean dish of Chorillana consists of a sturdy base of french fries, runny eggs and sauteéd onions in the middle, and bits of steak and chorizo sausage to top it all off. I´ve heard that some places take much pride in preparing this prestigious dish. You know how at some high-fallutin restaurants consider it an insult to ask for A-1 sauce with your steak? Well, rumor has it that some places consider it just as much of an insult to ask for ketchup with your chorillana. Luckily, this place was more down to earth, so I proceeded to douse the mountainous heap, meant for more than one person, with ketchup.

About to burst, and suffering from hunger pains, I walked to another exhibit that housed some neat and provocative photography from artists around the world. Everything from a dwarf in a wheelchair painting beautiful landscapes, to lesbians performing the act of love and quite a bit in between, the former and the latter that is. Museo de Arte Precolombino was next on the list and the only museum that charged for entry that day. They had to kick me out, not because of misbehavior, but because of the closing hour had arrived. The statues that ancient Central and South American pre-Columbus cultures took with them to the grave in order to ensure a safe and effective trip to the afterlife were fascinating. The pipes that they used to get in touch with a particular God were also very noteworthy.

It happened that my friend Kristin and her sister Julie were also in Santiago for one last night of fun before Julie headed back to the States. Without any prior planning, our respective hostels found themselves a mere 2 blocks away from each other. We met up for some dinner on the main drag in Barrio Bellavista. The Porotas con Longaniza turned out to be a sound choice, consisting of beans, pumpkin, some other forgotten ingredients all mixed up together accompanied with a couple of sausages. We ended the night with a drink at a restaurant designed for the elderly, seated as La Mesa Pablo Neruda, or Pablo Neruda´s table. Unsure of whether the Chilean poet Pablo Neruda had actually sat there, or they were just appealing to their target market of the elderly, we rambled back down the street and said our goodbyes.

The next day, I wasn´t feeling quite as ferocious about being a tourist so I slept in, took a shower, had a cup of coffee and hit the pavement at 1:00, or rather 13:00 hours. I sat down at one of those tables mentioned earlier designed to obstruct foot traffic and attract business. A 1/4 chicken with french fries for just about $4 dollars was the choice for today. When the waiter brought out the plate, I asked him for some ketchup and his response "Ahh, se acabó" made me laugh. They were out of kethup. As a spoiled gringo, I can say in good conscience that the lack of ketchup was definitely factored into the price of the meal. And it turns out that mustard isn´t that bad of a substitute for ketchup concerning its application to french fries.

Cerro Cristobal, or St. Christopher Hill was the next stop on the agenda. This is an 867 meter hill with a huge statue of the Virgin Mary looming over the city. It might not have been the best day to scale the hill considering the thick layer of smog that had settled over the city, but it was free and therefore awesome nonetheless. There were some break dancers putting on a spectacle under the Virgin´s watchful and protective gaze. Kids ran around throwing pebbles at each other. The sun beginning to set, I figured it would be better not to stay up on the hill, that Midwesterners would surely label as a mountain, after dark. So, I made the trek back down the hill and called it a day. Alright folks, I could continue rambling but I´ll explain about my failed attempt to reach the hot springs outside of town which included 40+ stops on the Metro and a lot of backtracking, thus. This is Elvagabundonumerouno writing to you for the last time from Valparaíso, Chile. Tomorrow, I leave for La Serena in Northern Chile and embark upon the northbound journey. Buenas tardes tv and radio land.