South America. Long I have mused on how to write up this continent, leading to the significant delay since my last entry.
When I first planned this around the world trip, I had hoped to encounter multiple, completely unique continents; South America should be something with mystery and mystique unparalleled by other areas of the world.
Somewhere remote.
Somewhere with soul.
...or would it?
Arriving in Santiago with very little research under my hat, I was unsure what to expect. All I knew from multiple travellers met along the way was to be “on guard”.
Despite a serious lambasting Santiago (Chile) receives from multiple guidebooks, I decided to stay there for a couple of weeks whilst I researched what to do, undertaking some rather urgent Spanish classes.
During my time there, I came to enjoy its charm – not only did the people appear warm and friendly, but there was a vibrant buzz to the sprawling city. Each neighbourhood had its own appeal; distinct but somehow the same. By the time I had left Santiago, I felt they had made up for the initial transgression.
Time to rewind a little – “What ‘transgression’?” I hear you say.
Having been in Santiago for less than 24 hours I decided to go on one of the many different walks of the city which I undertake almost everywhere I arrive. At approximately 14:00 on a sunny weekday afternoon, I was no more than a few metres from the main hospital wearing my sunglasses when they were briskly whisked off my face by a bypassing cyclist. How un-gentlemanly of him!
These sunglasses were about four years old, made of plastic and had been scratched so badly after five months of travel and four years of sailing, that the coating had been entirely removed from the lenses, along with much of the paint-work. They were chosen for this trip because they were almost indestructible, and they were the most practical and unfashionable things you’ve ever seen. However, they were MY sunglasses – or were...
Welcome to South America.
South America seems to have systems that are a strange mix of European, combined with the laid-back ‘charm’ of South America. When I say ‘laid back’, I should really say lazy.
Stepping into a pharmacist to purchase some foot-deodorant (wearing the same shoes for five months is a seriously bad idea for those around you,) I selected my product and walked over to the till. Shortly after this, I was told that I could not just *pay* for the item I had selected. Instead, I must first get a ticket for it from the pharmacist, even though it wasn’t a pharmaceutical item.
I walked over to the pharmacist to receive the ticket, only to find out that the single pharmacist had a queue of over ten people – in contrast to the two people at the tills, and the two at the “help” desk, she was working by herself. She was doing ALL the work! Oh how I wish that were an isolated incident.
Travel does strange things to people. One of those things which seems to happen to everyone who travels for more than a month, is for the sense of time invested, compared to reward received, to be significantly warped. For example, one day when I really wasn’t feeling the vibe to learn some Spanish, some newly made friends and I decided to go on a road trip. Hearing of a hot spring at the end of a very long, dusty road, with amazing sights and no tourists, we decided to hire a car and investigate.
Three dusty hours later, we finally arrived in a valley very close to the Chile/Argentina boarder. Surrounded by mountains, the scenery was breathtaking. Not surrounded by tourists made it better still.
Standing there gazing at the myriad of colours on the mountain, we noticed a quarry rather high on the cliff. No sooner had we started to pull away, did a massive explosion let rip. The driver, seeing the cloud of dust behind us floored it (luckily!) as we made a closer escape than we would have liked.
Moving on from Santiago, I headed towards the coast, taking in the “arty” cities of Valpariso and Vina del Mar. Both were substantially average, although the former had some very interesting graffiti which inspired me to take pictures at a jaunty angle for a while.
That’s quite enough of that – I do consider myself a scientist after all!!
My search for inspiration sent me inland and across the Argentinean boarder, to one of the most vexing business models I have ever heard of. It was living proof that the Argentineans don’t like tourists...
In the city of Mendosa, I encountered a series of cottage industries that had been set up entirely to pander to those who wanted to visit the local vineyards for which that region of Argentina was famous. No big deal, one would think, until you realise what they are encouraging. Instead of riding a minibus from vineyard to vineyard, they rent you a bicycle and you ride from one to the other, all along pot-holed and narrow paths, strewn with trucks. You then proceed to get drunk on the wine offered with each “tasting session”.
Shockingly, you may be surprised to hear that there was a high accident rate along that road – who would have thought?
Luckily, the ice-cream parlour and fillet steaks within Mendosa, both for a fraction of the cost and double the quality of the UK, made this city very enjoyable. The wine was good too! Oh, and there was a horse thrown in for good measure for a bumpy sunset ride...
Rushing past the next couple of cities, which were only really included to break up the massive distances between Mendosa and San Pedro de Atacama, I would like to mention only one significant thing – I’m sorry. In fact, I’m very sorry. In the remaining photos I shall be wearing the world’s worst hair-cut. It was so bad, that I decided to take a photo of the person responsible. I don’t know what she has such a large smile on her face for, as she clearly doesn’t know how to cut hair. Amusingly, she probably thought that my request in Spanish for a haircut was strange, thinking that Europeans have very peculiar taste. Either way, I received a dire haircut – live with it, I had to.
Now it was onward, to the Bolivian boarder and the Atacama desert....
Until next time!
