“Hey, guess what,” I said to Nicole, nudging her awake at 4am from my reclined airplane seat. “We’re in South America.”
She gave a big sleepy grin and shook her head in slight disbelief expressing the surrealism of that idea.
Around 7am, after a full 24 hours of traveling, we finally touched ground in Santiago, Chile. Getting off the plane in my Wisconsin Badgers sweatshirt and boots, I was greeted by the warm air of a South American summer, and the chaos of an international airport. Customs, baggage claim, registration with the international police, fractured Spanish at all stations, we made our way through the unrelentless crowd to the transportation area where we dodged desperate taxi drivers to find a city bus to take us to the actual bus station. Without any sort of itinerary or instructions, we lugged our some 200lbs. of suitcases through the thick mob of travelers to the bus and through the station to discover that the next bus to Valdivia wouldn’t leave until 9pm – a full 12 hours later.
Left tired and sweaty and buried under our luggage, we sought out the station’s luggage storage service and, on our way, found “los baños ejecutivos.” These curious bus station bathrooms offer a private bathroom for 30 minutes complete with shower and towels for a mere $7. In such desperate need of grooming, the cost was easily justified.
Half an hour later, we were luggage free, refreshed and ready to explore the capital city of Santiago.
I’m not sure that I can wrap my head around the size of this city. With over 5.5 million citizens, Santiago and its surrounding suburbs house roughly one-third of Chilean citizens. On foot, Nicole and I were limited to nearby locations that seemed interesting enough on the bus station map. Later we would learn that the city surrounding the bus station isn’t Santiago’s finest neighborhood. We first headed across the main street to the University of Santiago. Not realizing that Chilean students are now on their summer break, we halted at the locked gates around the entrances. Still ambitious, we strolled the streets, filled with dingy newsstands, graffiti and run-down convenient stores with barred windows. Nicole and I, with our blonde hair and fair skin, stuck out like the skinny kids at fat camp. It wasn’t long before every hombre on the sidewalk or passing truck whistled or said, “Hello beautifuls” in a cheesy, Spanish accent. At first, we just laughed and ignored the comments, but after an hour or so, it felt like they might as well be throwing eggs.
Upon recommendation from the bus station information booth, we sought out La Casa de Moneda – the capitol building of Chile, and a must see for first-time tourists. But with our poor Spanish in a huge, strange city, we mistook passersby’s directions and walked circles until we ended up back at the bus station.
Still eager and with nine hours left to kill, we tried our hand at the metro – the city’s subway system. Entering the train, I noted to Nicole the surreal irony that two Wisconsin farm girls who grew up without traffic lights in their towns just hopped aboard a train in a booming South American metropolis. I suppose, sooner or later, it’s bound to happen.
Coming out of the metro station, Santiago looked like an entirely different city. The buildings were gentle giants that stood proudly on either side of the plaza. Each median that separated the street was its own city park, you could picnic between zooming cars headed in opposite directions. In the plaza, men didn’t cat call and no one starred at us hungrily for a quick swipe of the purse.
La Casa de Moneda unmistakably sits like a palace with two football fields of a front lawn and guards stationed at every corner and entrance. With elected officials’ offices consuming the interior of the building, tourists are able to roam the open courtyard within towering walls. In the basement, an eloquent art museum displays pictures and art from Chile’s rich places and artists. Nicole and I practically drooled over photographs of the Chiloé Island in the south, hearts leaping when thinking of traveling to the different locations.
After an afternoon of gawking at such an impressive city, Nicole and I stopped to rest on a park bench and soon fell asleep like the lazy, stray dogs that roam the city.
A quick metro ride back to the bus station, and Nicole and I were again on guard with our passports and money. Tired and sun burnt, we settled for a cheap dinner at the bus station food court. We purchased one McDonalds quarter pounder with fries and a Chilean fast food equivalent – to compare the meals. While the Chilean meal included a tasty cheese empanada (like a half-circle hot pocket), McDonald’s fries are hard to beat. I will note though, that as a ketchup addict, I am disturbed by the off-flavored sauce everywhere in Chile. It’s subtle, but a ketchup conoser like me can pick up on the difference, an almost chili sauce flavor.
During dinner, someone made a grab for Nicole’s backpack by her foot. Witnessing it, I kicked her bag towards me seemingly nonchalantly, gave the guy a nasty look and told Nicole we should be going…now.
By 9pm, we were comfortable in our reclined bus seats, exhausted from an intense day in the capital city but left satisfied having seen the sites, and ready to sleep through the 10-hour nighttime ride to Valdivia.
