The plan was to call my buddy Jeremias upon my arrival. Well I had his phone number but I didn't have a phone. I was planning to ask someone on the bus to borrow their phone. The problem with this half-wit plan of mine was that we pulled into the South Terminal quicker than I was anticipating. I was so engaged in my book, The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, that I failed to notice the massive city surrounding me. Half the passengers were already off the bus by the time I realized I was at our final destination. No cell phone for me..."Where's a pay phone?"
***The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy is an ironically fraught dry English satire that is a perfect read for the world traveler. Dad, you'd enjoy this witty humor. It's an easy read and reminds me of Monty Python hilariousness. No! They are not paying me for this plug.***
Again, walking around a presumably common petty theft transportation area dressed in Gringo carrying two conspicuously large bags. Every travel guide book in the world has a disclaimer regarding transport areas!
I have plenty of cash. In fact I just went to the ATM in Pichilemu and have an amazing amount of $10,000 peso bills. But only one $100 peso coin, which is the exact change needed to make a local area phone call. Slip my coin in, nothing. Damn thing ate my money, not really surprised. A couple swear words later and I'm crossing the street for an internet cafe. Normally, I wouldn't let something like a lost coin fluster me but I knew that a massive two day music festival was in session and that every hostel in the area was booked solid. So I had nowhere to stay except at Jeremias', who graciously offered me his couch.
I facebooked Jeremias and he immediately responded. Thank god for technology. He instructed me to take the metro to a specific stop, where he would pick me up in his grey Jeep Grand Cherokee. But I had to hurry because he needed to play a soccer match.
Comfortable with the metro and my instructions, I was off. It was going to be close. I told him to just leave me there and go to the match if I was causing him to be late. I had his address, I'd be fine. I pop out of the "Manqehue" stop, go to the wrong side of the street, wait 5 minutes, decided he left me, asked a stranger for directions, no luck, kept walking around the area...then I spot him!
"Jero!!!! Whats up bro" as I quickly walk up to his car. He gets out, gives me a kiss on the cheek and a massive hug.
**Now, I need you, the reader, to bare with me for a second here...get your mind in a sentimental place...somewhere you go after watching...lets say...Forest Gump when he's holding dying Bubba in his arms...ok you there yet?**
Literally kissed me on the cheek. For an American, it's a rather uncommon experience. Usually a hug will suffice. But to be honest, a hug wouldn't have sufficed here. I was so glad for Jero's affection, so thankful, so pleased. The kiss on the cheek from Jero is a perfect metaphor that captures the gracious, hospitable, and loving immersion that he and his family privileged me to. I've been traveling around this continent, alone for much of the time, and I feel vulnerable, distant, and unwelcome at times. You know, the typical tourist dynamic. Having that greeting from Jero will truly be one of the best memories of this trip. * Morgan, I miss you. Remember Forest and dying Bubba please haha.* I'm dwelling on this moment selfishly, knowing that you are my audience and possibly don't share this sentiment I have for Jeremias. But when I read this blog in 20 years I hope it elicits some emotions when reminiscing about my trip.
This gesture is very common in South America. My short 2 months here has only previously subjected me to the opposite sex cheek kiss. But here in Santiago, I came to find out, that men press cheek to cheek as well. But the kiss, seems to be saved for the closest friends, and family. Jeremias and his Dad always kissed hello and goodbye. A bond and show of affection that is amazing to witness. I'm finally exposed to the true cultural Latin American care. I've heard of it, frequently in fact in school, that Latin Americans are more communal and caring for their family and fellow patrons. Until now, I hadn't experienced it.
We were late to the soccer match. Despite his previous obligation, Jeremias waited for me. A true friend. Thank you bud! So I watched him and his team get murdered by some amateur futbol team. It was great fun.
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"My house is your house, my wife...is not your wife...hahahahahahahahah", we all three laughed uncontrollably.
This was my introduction to Jeremias´ step father, Raul. He is a successful engineer, has a great sense of humor (obviously), and an immense amount of generosity. Seriously Raul, thank you so much for everything you´ve done for me. I´m truly indebted to you. And I promise to make a magnificent two week California tour guide for you soon!
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It was a complete 180 degree twist from what I had been experiencing for the past two months. It´s extremely common, almost religious, to have a live in house maid. Juanita! A very short Peruvian women with all the kindness and patience you would expect. Every time I walked into the kitchen Juanita was there. Willing and eager to assist me on making my daily (possibly hourly) black teas, she practiced Spanish with me and laughed at all of my Gringo tendencies and hesitations in her domain. She washed my clothes too! My whites were actually white, and my clean clothes smelled as if it were true! The red wine stains on my white Colombian linen pants came out, loved it! You´re the best Junaita!
180 degree twist. I could drink water from the faucet. No more lugging around massive 2 and 5 liter water jugs from the grocery store. There was a fridge full of food, drinks, and it had a freezer! I had a hot shower. Not my first one on the trip, but it was the most consistent and cleanest shower of the trip. I didn´t have to wear my flip flops! The toilet was clean, didn´t smell, and had enough power to take down TP. That's right, I could flush the toilet paper...don´t balk, this was a revelation! At first I was frightened to try. We´re creatures of habit and I wasn´t sure what to do at first. There was a bin next to the toilet, usually filled with TP at lesser establishments. But this one was spotless, had no plastic bag lining, and seemed to never be used. "Dude, you should just go for it. The worst thing to happen is you have to fetch a plunger from Juanita. But if this works man, you´ll be a legend!" I thought to myself sitting there with my pants around my ankles. I am now a legend!
I spent my time traveling around with Jeremias and his sister Daniela in their cars. It was a weird sensation being in a car. We avoided traffic, picked up friends, and darted around buses. Buses that I previously was confined to. I was taken to lunch where I tried a "cordiera sanwhich" and had my first Gulden Draak Belgium beer (a must try for beer lovers). I tasted my first "Piscola". This was Pisco, a hard liquor derived from grapes, mixed with Coca Cola and ice. Very strong and suspiciously easy to drink. I ate candied walnuts or chestnuts or something. They were sweet and soft and you added sweet cream to them, divine! I had patè on bread. Meat paste that looked almost purple. I had heard of it and I´m sure it´s common in the US but still a first for me. I was treated to local favorites like "piala mariscos", "Rollado de Chancho", and "Pastel de Choclo." "Manjar" was like carmel but made with milk instead of water...Dulce de leche. Put it on anything, literally anything! I attended my first Chilean BBQ´s.
At Miguel´s, Jeremias´ Dad, we had BBQ´s that lasted through the night. A massive grill and two bags of charcoal was the base for an all night eating frenzy. I was smitten. Having previously been subjected to food on a budget, which entailed cheap street eats, random celebratory splurges, and illness, I was taking full advantage of the feast. I ate and drank till my stomach was about to burst. Thank you so much Miguel for laughing with me, letting me spend the night, and feeding my insatiable appetite. "Very mucho rico comida" was my drunken quote that made everyone laugh out loud. It was a week of many quotes as I butchered the language, unveiled my Gringo quirks, and did my best to be grateful.
The days carried on like this. Hugs and kisses, laughter, and lots of culture. Miguel, Jeremias, and the rest of the family would tell their friends of my food conquering displays. The hospitality continued to unfold as I was treated to local restaurants, foods, and bars. I spent some time with Daniela in here lovely Cafe, Ana Luisa Cafe & Bistro. She would´t let me pay for my lunch and coffee or the dessert. Spoiled i was! This was my life for a week in Santiago, Chile.
Que pasa Gringo?! ... no había leído estas entradas en tu blog. I'll share this with the rest of the family.
ReplyDeleteBy the way, it's "Paila de Marisco", "Arrollado de Huaso" and "Pernil de Chancho".
You did forgot to tell about "U" de Chile.
Godspeed my son ;)
PS: Tommorrow we are throwing a huge bbq for the U match against las Zorras (biggest Derby around, something like a River-Boca).