Starting to get dark, only just but it is noticeable. I think I might get something to eat after this - I was toying with KFC (or, actually, Kentucky Fried Chicken, as the shop is labelled), but I think I won't - and see if that can, J K Jerome-style, offer me some sense of wellbeing, then wander over to that bar in the street next to Bar Liguria. Seems vaguely fitting I should go there my last night here as I did my first. Mustn't get too drunk, of course.
I note signs on the entrance to some metro stations saying not to enter with bags. No one said anything when I did it on my arrival and departure here last time but now I've seen that I am a bit concerned about doing it tomorrow.
9:20pm. Walked over to El Candil, next to Bar Liguria. Encountered a friendly and probably genuinely nice drunk chap on the way on the scrounge for a fag (I was warmed to him by the fact he admitted he was drunk, something I am prone to myself) but all the same glad I lost him as he stopped to scrounge off other passers by. Have ordered some sort of spicy beef sandwich after ascertaining it lacked mayonnaise, along with an extremely small bottle of Coke Light, prior to switching back to beer.
I think the walk over has lifted my mood slightly although I am still a touch down. We shall see if the food helps.
9:50pm. Although a touch small, the sandwich was very nice and was actually spicy. Don't feel on top of the world but I think it helped. Have ordered a beer, I think it must be expensive here. It's clearly slightly classy and they do neither draught nor large bottles of beer. Drinking 330ml of Austral which I suspect will cost me as much as a litre in a cheaper place. Ah well.
10:25pm. Figured I might as well move straight over to Bar Liguria. Maybe because it's earlier than I've been here before it's surprisingly busy. Vaguely annoyed my 'usual' table just inside the door is occupied, am sat at the bar as there are no tables free. (Actually I think the place is huge, there are three doors on the street all of which seem to lead to semi-distinct areas. But I am in the bit I've been in before.)
I am astounded to note I have almost exactly three months of the trip left. It feels like I'm well over halfway somehow. Probably because I had this big nine week stretch on the main booking with no flights, and everywhere else is only a few weeks (well, six in Mexico).
I asked how much the drink was, the guy seemed a bit surprised, maybe it's usual to run a tab but since I was sat at the bar I wasn't sure. He said 1800, I have him 2000 and have not received any change. No big deal but I find that a touch off.
The music here, while broadly acceptable, is pseudo-50s rock. It fits perfectly with the decor (which, to my Hollywood-nurtured mind) looks like a 50s American diner, but is a change from the 2000-era London pub music I experienced my last two visits.
11:10pm. Just ordered a second probably-half litre. The barman has given me, over the last minute or two, two receipts (presumably one for each beer) and CLP200 in change. I'll leave it on the bar, it's a little insulting in a strange way to have that taken from one beer but not the other but I will assume it's a sort of accident or custom, and to be honest the guy is semi-welcome to a 10% tip. He keeps giving me peanuts (in the shell), although of course everyone else gets them too, which I can regard as worth 25p a shot.
"Johnny B Goode" playing now. It's cool but I kind of preferred the 2000 London pub music. What the hell. At least this is consistent and if I stick it out it may transition later on.
11:25pm. Just checked I have the printouts for the flights and hotel in my pocket. It's a 3751km flight. I noticed earlier in my guide book that back in the early 20th century there was a regular (mail?) flight from Santiago to Arica, around 2000km, which took a day and a half. It's one thing to realise what air travel means, another to think even in the early days of aviation my 5h flight tomorrow would have taken 2-3 days, even if they didn't require (presumably nonexistent) refuelling facilities. I wonder when the first flight to Easter Island happened. I suspect I will discover that fact without effort in some museum on the island, if not it's something to look up next time I remember.
From the guide book, apparently it was exactly a hundred years ago (I remember as it was their centary, and it's the bicentary this year) the first plane flew from Chilean soil, covering the massive distance of 50m. But then aviation was young I suppose, I can't remember when the Wright brothers flew but I suspect it was 190something.
They are playing "Love Me Do" now. Maybe the music is slowly advancing in time. :-)
11:40pm. Big swathe of Beatles songs. I am wondering what group would characterise the 70s if they really are advancing through time. :-)
I am not drunk yet but I find it both fascinating and scary my Dad (a big Beatles fan) was half my age when this music was new. I can believe people will still be listening to the Beatles in 25 or 50 years time thinking about it like that.
In a similar vein of thought, I look around the bar and (although I'm sure people's clothes were different) only the computerised till with LCD screen provides concrete evidence it isn't still 1967. If only we had a time machine, it would be freakily cool if we could have anti-retro bars where people in 2010-era gear and with 2010-sensibilities could listen to 2050-era music. :-)
Man, I am rambling, but I really am not drunk. Was thinking - can't remember why, oh yes, it was those Tom Lehrer songs - that we have made progress in the last 50 years. Back then we worried about nuclear war making the planet a lifeless globe. It seems to me that global warming is an improvement, we face species extinction (probably not even that, if I wasn't going to be dead of old age or drowned, I'd put money on no more than pseudo-Western cultural extinction, there will be some obscure tribal people somewhere living somewhere whatever, I reckon) but non-human life will go on all the same. Progress baby. :-)
12:05am. Just ordered another. That would escape comment even in this cavalcade of trivialities except that I got two receipts for the thing over the course of two minutes. Maybe I can have a blood alcohol test on leaving and reclaim the price of a pint if this carries on. :-) I got change this time but am leaving it on the bar per my plan to tip (the previous change has disappeared), I got more peanuts so what the hell.
I no longer recognise the music but it is clearly modernish. I am aware of my own antiquity but I feel I have enough sense to not call anything 80s or 90s modern. I think it's actually Spanish language, insofar as I can tell, as I keep hearing "sexo, sexo". The song is very slightly familiar but I can't place it.
For all the fact I am not having a fantastic time right now - though it's OK - I am slightly stupidly proud of not feeling totally out of place. I seem to fluctuate between being able to communicate fluently and having troubles, and they occur independently of drinking, but even in the latter circumstances I usually get there in the end, even if it's annoying and embarassing. I can't imagine feeling this comfortable in Brazil, although doubtless someone more confident with no more Portuguese than me would be fine. (If I didn't observe it at the time, this reminds me that my Brazillian Portuguese phrasebook includes some phrases related to sex and relationships. I find that half annoying and half ridiculous. Even if you're Mr Smooth, the idea of someone consulting the phrasebook during sex to look up a phrase like (I make this up, but there are things like this) "do that again" or "don't touch me there" is inherently laughable. (And as for the pseudo-chat up lines, fuck off.) Maybe yo
u're supposed to memorise them up front. But I assume if you're so personable as to be at that stage with a native speaker while needing a phrasebook you won't need them on the job, body language and gestures will carry you through. I suspect the authors put them in as a kind of joke. It reminds me of that xkcd cartoon where the guy is looking up "foreplay" on wikipedia while in bed.)
(Oh, the phrasebook also includes such phrases as "you're just using me for sex". Because I'm sure if you get to that stage, the conversation is going to be intelligible with the help of a phrase book. I struggled to order a fucking beer with the aid of the phrase book! I can only assume it's there so it can be thrown out as a hopefully intelligible insult as a sop to one's pride in the middle of some mutually incomprehensible break-up scene, if it's not just part of the joke on the part of the authors.)
(The more I think about that last the more ridiculous it seems. You are a woman - presumably, given that I can't imagine a man saying "you are just using me for sex", though either way it makes little difference - so unable to communicate with the locals you need to use a phrase book. By the means of body language and a few helpful (ha!) phrases you connect and make the beast with two backs, perhaps more than once. Your conversation is limited to what the phrase book gives you. He presumably speaks no English, otherwise you don't need the phrase book, so you completely fail to discover you share an interest in seventeenth century madrigals and the theory and practice of Leninism. Some time afterwards the passion fades and you are inclined to dredge this phrase out of the book. WHAT DID YOU THINK THE 'RELATIONSHIP' WAS ABOUT IF NOT SEX? Yet the phrasebook does not include a translation of that from the smug yet justified local. Anyone who doesn't speak a mutual language with their sex
ual partner has no right to say "you are just using me for sex" with a straight face.)
I may be feeling a little lonely and jealous of these theoretical people, but I standy by those sentiments. I am moderately proud of the latter bits, I feel they could form the basis of a half-decent standup routine if only I had the skill. :-)
1:10am. Just ordered another beer and the music is up to Queen's "I want to break free". My 'travel through musical time' theory is not as totally ridiculous as I thought.
1:40am. Just ordered another and last beer. "Our House" by Madness on. I can't place a lot of what they've played but it is modernish. The 50s rock theme is well deserted at least.
Man, I hope I can be up in time. The flight isn't til 5pmish and even with transit (and allowing for 'am I allowed on the metro with bags' worries) there's loads of time. But I can't remember when I have to check out, I need to dredge the laptop out when I get home to check. I think it's midday which is fairly cool and gives me frankly too much time to get to the airport, but given how late I've been up lately I have a slight nervousness. I nearly always get up when I have to though, and what the hell. It would be galling to miss my flight to Easter Island after coming through the earthquake with it still allowed. But if the last few days are any template, the cleaner will drag me blearly eyed out of bed in plenty of time anyway.
2:15am. Just got a cab home. Left the bar literally five minutes ago, I had half a pint left but was feeling a bit drunk, were I not leaving tomorrow I would have stayed but as it was they played "There is a light that never goes out" and the next song sucked and I figured I'd leave. Cab driver didn't know my obscure street but I said it was between Baquedano and Universidad Catlolica and he was cool about it, said it would be 1500 and I gave him 2000 as he was willing to search for the street, though it wasn't necessary really. (The flat is a minute or two's walk from Baquendao, although if you emerge from the station it's tricky to locate, which is why I didn't just ask him to take me to Baquedano.)
2:20am. Back at the flat. Not hungry but sort of wish I had some takeaway food. What the hell. Will check checkout time and then to bed. And tomorrow I have to be up earlyish, never mind all my protestations on previous days.
Can hardly believe I am going to Easter Island tomorrow. I hope I really am and don't miss the flight or something!
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