The title says it all. But the main content of this post is stuff I knocked out on my phone earlier on while I was out. It's gone 3am here as I post this, I am going to post this without proofreading and go to bed and hope I get up in time to pack and clear out. The one consolation is I am not particularly drunk.
I went over to San Cristobal, found it no problem, turns out it's just off the end of Pio Nuno, the street with all the bars. I bought a ticket for the funicular but after about six of us queued for maybe 20 minutes it turned out it had broken down and wouldn't be running again until tomorrow.
I went and had something to eat and a couple of (small) beers at a nearby restaurant. The waitress was pleasant but seemed to have incredible difficulty understanding me. Normally I'm OK-ish with basic stuff, so I don't know what was wrong. We managed OK in the end though.
Afterwards I figured I try to climb up to the top on foot. I found some paved steps near the funicular entrance, which took me up a small part of the way to the zoo. I wasn't sure it was open and didn't have much interest in going in anyway. In the absence of a better alternative, I started walking along the road in the hope of getting up that way.
The road was practically level and I was on the verge of giving up when I spotted a sign at the side of the road indicating either a hiker or tourist trail, depending on how you choose to interpret 'excursionista'. The sign said it was a difficult trail with an approximate ascent time of 25 minutes, but it didn't look too bad so I figured I'd give it a go.
It wound up the side of the hill pretty steeply, but generally it was OK. I was heartened to see a few other people walking up wearing shorts and trainers instead of full hiking gear, although in general it was pretty deserted. The one problem was when after taking a detour to a lookout point I decided to take a shortcut down a sort of path between two 'loops' of the main track. It only saved me walking about twenty metres and despite the path down being a couple of metres, it was so steep I ended up slipping and sliding down a bit. It was probably for the best, I got away with a few small grazes on my arms and it prevented the temptation to take any other shortcuts later.
It came out near the other end of the funicular. There were some proper steps up to the top from there where, to my surprise, there was a statue of the Virgin, for all the world like a smaller female counterpart to Cristo Redentor in Rio. (I appreciate this is an obvious thought, there were a few Americans up there and one made the same observation.)
I had a litre bottle of Escudo on Pio Nono after making my way down and felt surprisingly drunk. I went back to the apartment and then out to print some stuff (primarily the electronic ticket for the fligt tomorrow) and get some cash. I assume there are cash machines in Punta Arenas but I want to take a fair wedge with me just in case they're hard to find or decide to play up with my card.
(It seems better here than in Brazil. Very roughly only one in three machines there would work for me, even though I have a Visa debit card and they all had the Visa logo on. But still, better safe than sorry.)
After that, at about 9,I went over on the metro to Candil where I came my first night and decided it was great here. I'm there as I write this and it's OK, but although I'm not drunk I feel a bit off somehow. Maybe it's the excesses of the weekend, despite not drinking anything on Sunday once I got home and today being a fairly quiet day (positively a healthy day, what with the walk up the hill/mountain and back down). Maybe I've just got that "having to leave tomorrow with all the associated hassle" feeling, although I am feeling quietly confident about it really right now.
I do like Santiago though. As I said the other day, I may spend a day or two here when I return from Punta Arenas, and failing that (especially if Easter Island doesn't happen - still waiting for a response from my last booking request) I may be back here for a few days before I fly on to Buenos Aires.
Hmm. A mime artist just came round, it must be hard times if he's out tonight as it's Monday night and the bar is hardly buzzing. I must be bursting with a yeasty benevolence as I actually gave him money.
Oh, and that reminds me - on the way over to San Cristobal earlier I walked past the university law school. I was accosted by a solo female student who gave me a poem. Being clued in now I was arguably a touch aloof, although we spoke briefly and she said something about Pinochet and Margaret Thatcher. I gave her a handful of change, so I am learning - I don't know what it was worth, but probably a quid tops. I'd have liked to have talked more just for the experience and for all I know she would have been genuinely happy to do it anyway, but although it's not exactly conversational prostitution, I knew the more we talked the more pressure I'd feel to give her more cash.
On the other hand, the last thing I want to do is talk about local politics and recent history. I have no fear of being carted off stereotypical USSR-style, but the risk of giving offence is always present. On the third hand, since I know nothing about that part of Chilean history as of now and would only be a listener, it would be interesting to hear anything anyone said. On the fourth hand, I might then drunkenly reguritate it later and offend someone that way.
I feel better now and, perhaps oddly, less drunk, the slight pain behind the eyes feeling has gone. It's not as pleasant as the first night here though, I expect that is the knowledge I have to leave tomorrow and so am no longer so relaxed. The first night I always had the option to just do nothing the next day if I really wanted. Now it's a bit like being out on a Sunday night when you have work the next day. Admittedly in my case 'work' at about 10am, but still.
Oh, a completely arbitrary (in point of time - it's probably clear, but I am accumulating this on my phone to post later tonight, alcohol permitting) observation. I am generally unapprehensive about spiders and the like here - I half feared and half hoped I'd spy something big on the trek up San Cristobal, but I didn't - but the other day I dropped my keys near the door to the apartment and figured I'd leave them there as at least it would make sure I didn't go out without them. Five minuter later I turned round and - I am ashamed to admit - uttered a minor scream as they appeared temporarily to look like a gigantic cockroach which had come out of nowhere. Two second later I felt like an idiot once I twigged. The apartment is very clean and while I may not be the most experienced traveller in the world, I've seen cockroaches in Mexico, which is at least as 'tropical' as here, and they were an inch or so long and unpleasant but not scary except when you spot one unexpectedly on turning the light on. (In fact, although I wouldn't want to touch one, I seem to recall their carapaces being attractively irridescent in some situations.) The key-cockroach was apparently three or four inches long, hence my horror.
Continuing the random observations, a few days ago I learned that the Spanish for 'still life' (as in 'picture of some fruit') is 'naturaleza muerta' or, if I translate correctly, literally 'dead nature'. I love these little differences in the language, also the times when you find the literal translation of an English expression is the correct Spanish.
More random observations. If any further evidence were needed that people are people the world over, I offer the following:
- the bus drivers here happily stop their enormous (bendy) buses across the pedestrian crossings, obscuring the green man signal and making it difficult to cross even if you somehow notice you're allowed to do so
- the other day I stepped out happily at a green man on the crossing to be yelled at by a cyclist taking advantage of the universal rule that anything is permitted when you're on a bike
If I haven't already made the observation, I find it disconcerting that it is apparently legal here (it happens so routinely I can't put it down to bad drivers) to turn right at a junction across a pedestrian crossing even when the green man is on. The drivers do show some courtesy and give the pedestrians right of way, in general, but I find it odd and a bit uncomfortable that I can't just cross blithely when the green man shows. Evidence, once again rather unnecessary, that not everywhere is the same.
OK, I'm weak and recreating my first night here. I left Candil and came to the pseudo-British bar down the road. But I shall be careful, just one or two then home, ideally walking. My flight isn't til 4pm but I still have to pack (admittedly probably 5 mins works, then 15 mins paranoid checking I didn't leave anything) and I assume I need to be out of the flat by midday. Todo bien. :-)
The waiter I spoke to the first night is here and remembers me. I apologised for my behaviour last time on general principles although I still think I wasn't that bad. He noticed I hadn't had my hair cut (I asked him for a recommendation last time), he has a treacherously excellent memory. The music here is as British as I remember, right now it's "Lola" by The Kinks.
"Spanish Bombs" by The Clash now. I don't know if it's my lack of skill, the alcohol or The Clash's pronunciation, but I can't understand all the Spanish in the song. (I don't know it well enough to already know what they sing, exactly.) I wonder how the locals feel about the song.
It occurs to me that just like the first night here, I am sucking a mint given to me by Candil while drinking my beer. An interesting but not ideal combination of tastes.
Interesting. They are now playing a cover of The Jam's "David Watts" which I have never heard before. Maybe it's not a Jam song originally, although I suspect it is. Either way, be interesting to look it up and find out who it is.
Partay. "Panic" by The Smiths now. If I haven't already observed this, at the secret bar on Sunday morning they played a lot of Smiths stuff. I fear I was inadvertently drunkenly (only slightly drunkenly, but still) annoying to a Japanese-looking guy we met there who had a Morrissey haircut. I had spoken to him a bit and he was supremely indifferent to my questions, especially about where he was from. (I was Britishly reticent to make assumptions and didn't say anything about Japan when I asked him where he was from. In any case everyone I meet here seems exotically multi-national. I only describe him as Japanese-looking here because I never got a clear answer to my questions. And yeah, I was a bit drunk,but genuinely not *that* drunk, and no one else was offended when I spoke to them. The guy I swapped e-mail addresses with was (IIRC) Chilean but with Italian parents and spoke fluent Spanish, Italian, English and also the local dialect from his part of Italy, which I don't recall the name of except that I know it wasn't Naples.) I approached the Japanese Morrissey a bit later on and apologised in case I'd offended him (admittedly at the same time saying, politely, he had a Morrissey hairstyle and asking if it was deliberate, to which he failed to respond and probably took as even more insulting, and I guess me apologising to him out of the blue probably cemented his idea I was a drunk idiot), but WTF. He probably thinks I'm a twat, if he thinks of me at all, which is fortunately unlikely. You can't win them all and although I can be an arse at times I generally think I get on well with people once I meet them. I certainly never intend to insult anyone. I felt he was probably an OK guy, but he was far less matey than the other people I met. Still, I feel a bit bad about it, although I'm sure it was just a case of him trying to ignore a drunk idiot.
A drunk idiot who is now at a pseudo-British bar at twenty to one when he has to check out tomorrow at midday. Sigh. Will I ever learn?
I do have my disintegrating book with me and I can still focus to read it. So I must be OK, right?
Odd cover version-tastic. A male vocalist and vaguely modern cover of "I will survive".
OK, last beer - ordered it with the bill. I may regret it but WTF. In the toilet - which has different music to the bar - I heard a bad instrumental cover of The Girl From Ipanema and decided I had to stay. Plus, I want to get a cab home from here and not be a twat. :-)
"Clint Eastwood" by Gorillaz now. I love the sheer pointlessness of these comments. :-)
I don't know if it will be like that, but I half envision my stay in southern Chile as a rest cure from drinking. I am sure Punta Arenas, as a naval town, has plenty of opportunities for drinking, but most of the time I am there I will have just arrived or just be about to leave. Whatever, it's all good, in that sense I can't lose. I either have fun drinking or don't want to and feel virtuous.
We make progress. I got a taxi home without major problems and only was embarrased that we had arrived without me realising. Not good, but much better than my first night here. :-) Only CLP2000 including a decent tip too. Was quite impressed the driver knew Calle Dr Ramon Corvalan, but maybe my relative sobriety helped my pronunciation.
OK, for some unimportant record it's 1:45am as I arrive home. A bit of dicking around and eight hours sleep still gets me put well before midday. Todo bien.
(Never again. For some reason long memos don't sync properly between my netbook and PDA. I had to do that in about four sections. And of course it wasn't worth it. :-) I have not re-read a word of it though I think I got the breaks in the right places between the sections. If it makes no sense it may be drunkenness or it may be due to this transfer in sections from PDA->netbook->blog. Probably the former, but who knows?)
WTF am I still doing awake at 3:45am when I got home at 1:45am? Sigh^n.
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