Gringos hit town.

I'm sorry but I couldn't resist - the sick bag from the plane.

I sometimes wonder if we radiate " Hicksville"?

As we stumbled off the plane some 24 hours after leaving the comfort of our own bed, I actually felt quite clear about what I needed to do and how I needed to do it. What I wasn't prepared for was how foreign everything was. I mean they didn't even speak English! ( Don't worry, I'm not that silly, I did expect it, I just haven't experienced it in real life before.)

From my research,I knew we had to order and pre-pay a taxi from an official vendor at the airport - not cheap but well within the bounds of what was expected. It was reasonably easy as I had the address of our apartment written down. I enquired about where to go to get a SIM card and managed to get a vague idea from the man through a series of broken English, charades and a lot of gesticulating. The next thing I thought to myself, was to sit down with a cup of coffee and gather my wits. 

I'm afraid those pesky wits were thoroughly scattered in the wind by the time we finally left the airport.

As we moved through the departing crowds we were confronted by a series of official looking men waving signs and yelling in Spanish, trying to hustle us out to the taxis. Shaking our heads, we managed to persuade them we weren't leaving straight away. Helpful people pointed us this way and that, and one 'kind' man took us to a stall, manned by a desultory character, that sold ONLY SIM cards  - not  the credit. For that we had to go somewhere else. That somewhere else, was in fact where I should have gone straight away and where I was heading anyway. As we stood there looking bewildered, we were approach by a helpful chap, with a tag around his neck, who spoke English. What a relief! 

Later ,when he introduced himself, he showed me the tag and said his name was something like Sebastio, but when I bent over to read it to check I had heard his name correctly, he flipped it over and hustled me on. So for the purposes of this little story, I shall call him Bastio.

Well, Bastio was very friendly and enthusiastically helpful and shamefully flirtatious. He showed us where to buy our coffee and when we had finished that, up he popped again to 'help' us further. He took me to his 'friend's' stall to buy credit for my phone.He did the talking and  I was handed a voucher and told " No no you have to go to other place" to actually get the credit put on it. As you probably guessed, the other place was where I should have gone first - the official Entel stall. (But hey, it's good to spread the wealth, right?)

As we had our heavy bags with us, Rich opted to stay put. Bastio put his arm around me and lead me off, winking and laughing over his shoulder " I take your wife to town now, I see you later." What a card.

We go to his other friend, upstairs and down the other end, who loads my phone with little fuss and patiently explains what to do ( oh how I wished I had gone straight there, as I planned), before Bastio whisks me off again to deliver me to my husband. 

"You tip me now, so I can pay my friends who help you!"

Well, naturally. Of course our only cash was in big denominations, so we had little choice but to pay the 10,000 pesos ( about 20 bucks) and it was almost worth it, just to get rid of him.

"I take you to your taxi now", but when he realised we had prepaid and there was little more to extort from us, or maybe he knew it was someone else's patch, he stopped and vaguely waved us off in the direction.

As we fell into the taxi, I was feeling thoroughly cross with myself and of course Bastio and, I think, the entire Chilean male population in general. It would have been a lot less fuss and bother, and probably quicker too, if I had been left to my own devices. Still, we learn from experience.

The apartment I had rented, through Airbnb, is in downtown Santiago. I had looked through nearly 100 and had finally narrowed my choice down to this one. I was quite chuffed with myself as it is quite cheap, $50/night, convenient to town and it has a balcony.( I can't bear 1 doored places - I feel claustrophobic). The reviews were all good so I went ahead and booked it. When I mentioned where  it was,to Rich's Chilean cousin in Germany, he was slightly horrified! " But it is in downtown.You must be careful!" Again mentioning to the other cousin, Carlos, in Paris, "You mustn't go out at night!", and again when we made contact with the friends of Carlos, "San Pablo is not very safe, we recommend you be very careful".  

"Oh no, what have I got us into?"I thought. "It's bound to be a dive and we'll be too scared to leave it. Well, it's done now."

When the taxi pulled up in front of a rather imposing glass and marble entrance, I started to feel a little better. We were met by our young hostess and her two year old son and shown to our home for the next few days. While it's not exactly luxurious or spacious, it is clean and bright enough and has all that we require. 

Yes, definitely feeling better.

We decided to keep jet lag at bay by keeping busy, so the first thing we did was google the nearest supermarket and off we set, clutching our valuables close to our sides as inconspicuously as we could, trying not to attract the attention of any lurking pickpocket of which Chile is famous for. ( Even I can picture us, Ma And Pa Kettle, rigid with anxiety and expressions of startled possums caught in the headlights on our faces- way to blend in folks.)

The pavements around here, and in fact in a lot of places we have visited since, are very rough and uneven, although once they must have been quite lovely, being cobbled or paved and tree lined. We have decided it is probably the earthquakes not just chronic neglect.

There are many, many hole in the wall tiny shops and restaurants and people lurk in doorways or sit outside their shops watching passers by- which can be a bit intimidating. Graffiti covers every wall, although now my attitude has improved, I'm more inclined to call a lot of it street art.

The supermarket was just like a supermarket, but foreign. Not a lot of fresh food, but sufficient. No fresh milk to speak of and all sorts of interesting things we could only guess at by the pictures on the outside.

I bet the kids here are really good at maths and understanding place value in particular, something our kiwi students, and me as it turns out, are sadly lacking. Really those pesos do my head in. It doesn't help how they sometimes use points/dots and sometimes use commas. I'm too scared to buy anything in case I get it disastrously wrong.

Still, the wine's cheap at about 3000 pesos which is about $6.75. And not too rough.

Sustenance obtained we make our way cautiously back home again, pour a wine and sink gratefully into our seats on the balcony. Despite the immediate outlook of endless delapidated shantys, the sun is shining, the Andes loom impressively behind us and we are feeling immensely grateful for being here.

Not many Chinese restaurants here, but this looks kind of impressive.

The population is about 70% catholic and there are many impressive churches.

Despite William's advice about staying up until it was dark, I decided around 7:30 to get comfortable and put my nighty on. I thought I might read my book on the bed, then I thought I might as well put my legs in and ... Good night nurse.