The one where Chile and I reconciled ...

So Santiago querido and I had our ups and downs.

But now sitting in a far-away country (in fact, about as far away as you can get), and looking back on the place like past relationship, I'm feeling a little sorry that I harped on about its bad points, badmouthing it to all and sundry. Because just like a past relationship, once you get some distance (about 10,000 km seems to do the trick), you can actually revisit those good moments and see them for what they were - unique and intense and character building.

And in actual fact, I think I realised this while I was still there, it just took a minor breakdown and escape from the city for me to do so.

It came after nearly six months of wedded bliss putting up with each other, by which stage it was apparent that Santiago and I had some serious differences of opinion on all the things that I thought mattered - personal space, openness, tolerance, and appropriate waiting times in a bank. And as our anniversary approached and it became clear that neither of us were going to change our minds on these matters, our options seemed to be either going straight into couples counselling or taking some time apart.

I opted for the latter. Which you could envisage as a-slinking-away-tail-between-legs departure, but which I prefer to consider a braveheart style run-for-the-hills with our Mel in a skirt screaming freedom beside me.

Now every Chilean I've ever met has told me that if there's one place guaranteed to (re-)kindle your love affair with Chile, its the South. Apparently the South is where people are the most friendly, the scenery is the most magnificent, the food most delicious.
So, ever determined to do the opposite, I headed north.

I went as far north as you can without actually leaving Chile - to the Parque Nacional Lauca in the top right hand corner of the country, jammed up against the borders of Peru and Bolivia, and very very high. It is Chile at its most extreme - highest, driest, furtherest away. It was brilliant.

For a place that seems completely off the radar its surprisingly accessible. We actually arrived via La Paz - I had met up with a friend there and we had plans to travel in the area immediately bordering Chile on the Bolivian side as well as in Lauca, a sort of borderlands expedition. Even from La Paz getting to Lauca is easy - the park has the dubious distinction of having a long distance truck route cutting straight through the middle (you know, the one that gives Bolivia its access to a sea port, ahem) and the road is built to Chilean standards - making it the smoothest road in the whole of Bolivia. All buses between Arica and La Paz pass right through so there's plenty of transport, although they don't make a scheduled stop, so its up to you to tell your driver where you want to get off, and of course, pay the full fare all the way between Arica and La Paz.

Aside from its ease of access, however, Lauca is an isolated place. The bus set us down at a refugio on the shore of Lago Chungara - over 4500 meters above sea level and one of the world's highest lakes. Other than the refugio and its caretaker, there is nothing there. You, the lake, the volcanoes, the road, and the occasional semi-trailer barreling past in the thin air. Its a strange kind of isolation.

View from the refugio over Lago Chungara and Volcan Parinacota.

The caretaker of the refugio was kind of surprised to see us turning up on his door but let us stay the night in the bunkroom. I was glad not to be there on my own, as the refugio is also where he lives, so there was a slightly awkward vibe of crashing someone's house.

We sat out on the porch watching the sunset over the lake. And of course even out there, Chile is Chile: every 5 minutes a truck would cut through the picture, reminding us that even this amazing landscape was a place for progress of the industrial kind. They had built a wonderful road, but the refugio's caretaker appeared to have no food to eat other than a (seen better days) joint of meat and tea made from a garden herb.
A strange kind of isolation - perhaps that's my motto for Chile.

The next day we walked through the foothills looking for a village that never materialised, drank all our water, tried to hitchhike back to the refugio, discovered that Chileans do not like to pick up hitch-hikers, got altitude sickness/dehydration, slept it off in the tiny bunkroom in the freezing night, tried again to hitch-hike back to the border, remembered previous day's experience and cursed Chilean cautiousness, and finally persuaded the driver of a tour bus from Arica to take us up the road to the border, which he very kindly agreed to do even though it wasn't where he was headed.

We even saw what's got to be one of the world's stranger animals - the viscacha. Looks like a rabbit, but with a long curly tail. Apparently they make good eating.. or so our friend the caretaker said.

So what's my point with this rambling and almost forgotten relationship analogy?  I guess it is seeing the bigger picture. Overlooking the club foot for the whole package. Santiago and I still don't see eye to eye and may never do so, but Chile and I are back on track. Thanks North.

Blast from the past..

I should be working but I'm not because I feel guilty about neglecting this blog for so long. And there is nothing like a dose of melancholy to fuel your procrastination. 
I've had this video sitting here for so long that I can't remember where I found it. Suffice to say it's full of incredible archival footage that anyone interested in Santiago should watch, if only for a glimpse of what the city was like before it got 80s-ified! Behold the heyday, 1937, of the endearingly titled land of charm!

So this is what happens when I take my eye off you Chile..

Too soon? Perhaps.

I hate earthquakes. Just like I don't like swimming in really deep ocean (ergh.. dangling with all that space underneath you...) I don't like it when the ground moves. I'm not afraid to admit that I act like a wuss when it happens, although to my blessed relief I've slept through or been otherwise unaware of all the temblors I've been told we've had since I arrived in Chile (with the exception of the one about a month ago when I woke up and demanded to know why O was moving the bed in the middle of the night).

Nonetheless, since I've been in Chile people have been telling me that the 'big one' is overdue and I have subsequently been crapping myself that it will happen while I'm there. Turns out that in the end it waited till I was just out of the country..

In the end I'm not sure if I would have preferred to have been there in the terrifying midst of it or here not knowing what had happened - I spent hours trying to get through to O on non-existent phone lines, skype, checking Chilean news sites to see if they were working (they weren't) and reading twitter to try and get news. Eventually I found a webcam broadcasting from Providencia which showed my apartment building, so at least I knew it was still standing. Now I've spoken to O and seen more pictures, so I know that the damage in my part of the city was minimal.

Some might say that I spend a fair bit of time on the blog bitching about constructively criticizing aspects of Santiago city design. So I'd like to take this opportunity to officially eat my own whiny words - Santiago, you mostly didn't fall down, and I applaud that. You may not have worked out how to get customers in and out of a bank in under two hours, but at least we can be safe in the knowledge that the bank will not collapse on our heads while we're waiting in line.

Sadly this wasn't the case everywhere - people elsewhere in the city and country did suffer damage and tragically there have been a number of lives lost. (EDIT: this number has taken a huge jump on day two after the quake as they reach the more isolated areas - it now looks like while Santiago had a lucky escape this is not reflective of the rest of the country.)
But a huge shout out to Chile in general for being as prepared for this as a country can be, for having good anti-seismic structures and action plans that will help to prevent a greater loss of life, and most of all to the people, who've taken this all in an unbelievably calm manner. Hell, O was even joking as he described how our 15th floor apartment was, and I quote, 'rocking like jelly'. Ugh. My hat sincerely off to you all.

Thanks to everyone who emailed to check if everyone we know is safe and well - they are.

Following Margaret from Cachando Chile's lead, there is a series of photos of the quake here which show some of the devastation around the country.

EDIT: buscador de desaparecidos aqui. favor difundir.

Things Chileans Like 2: Bad Customer Service

Actually, that's a little unfair. I don't know if Chileans actually like bad customer service, but its certainly a possibility given its prevalence here.

Lets take the dinner I had last night as an example.

We're in a nice restaurant in Bellavista that serves the most awesome sandwiches which, amazingly, are not of the completo style, but rather of the pan-American gourmet style - think sandwich of aji de gallina with salad or lomo saltado complete with tiny potato crispies. Ok, it might sound a little weird but take it from me, these sandwiches are the real deal. As in, delicious, and not at all like a completo.

We sit down (after being told that the table we wanted was for six people and us only being four made us ineligible for it..). So we sit down at a crappier table, for four people. Menus arrive. There are lots of drinks in a big long list headed 'tragos', which oddly enough, means 'drinks'.
O turns to waitress and points to one of the drinks.
O: 'Que es esto?' (what's this one?)
Waitress: "Uh.. Son tragos.' Waitress turns, and walks off.
In case you didn't get that, her response to his question was "They are drinks". That was it. Then she left.
Well, thank you for that. I think that counts as Strike One.

Food arrives. O wants another drink. He asks the price of the beer.
Waitress: 'I don't know'.
Long pause. Waitress stands there.
O: "you don't know the prices?'
Waitress: 'Well, they've just changed them.'
Another long silence. O eventually asks for the menu. Strike Two.

Finally, I order a beer from the tap. It arrives two thirds full.
Me: 'Sorry, but this beer isn't full.'
Waitress: 'Well that's because the foam has gone down.'
Me: 'Erm... well can I have a full one then?'
Waitress makes face and tomps off with the beer. It comes back full. Probably with saliva.
Definitely Strike Three for Chilean Customer Service.

And you know, that interaction wasn't even that unusual.

Oh, and the table we originally wanted and weren't allowed to sit at because we didn't have six people? Yeah, it ended up hosting an enormous party of ... two.

and THIS, my friends, is how you celebrate winning an election...

That's right. Difference between winning an election and winning a football match? Absolutely none.

New Year in Santiago...

... this year alternatively known as Fuegos Artificiales vs Fuegos de Verdad.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that New Years celebrations always bite. So why every year am I surprised?
Call me an eternal optimist, but I'm always ready to have the time of my life on New Year's Eve. And with a few notable exceptions (I'm looking at you Edinburgh and you Buenos Aires) my New Year's have been emotionally traumatic let-downs that I may never get over. In fact, in my experience, New Year's can reliably be expected to involve at least one of the following: fights with one's significant other; excessive amounts of tequila; remaining depressingly sober even after excessive amounts of tequila, tears; getting pulled over by the police; getting lectured by police because while you are depressingly sober the amount of heinously drunk people you have in your car is alarming; overcrowded beach bars; bogans; Melbourne's fireworks getting canceled due to strong winds/thunder/heat/Robert Doyle/bogans; and things never, never, never going the way they were planned.

So no surprises then, that O and my plans to get away from Santiago for the weekend were considered by the gods of New Year to be rather ambitious. Which was disappointing, but really, I guess I should have expected it.

In preparation for the weekend away I had in fact spent the morning body slamming Chilean nannas in the supermarket in the insanity that is trying to buy provisions on New Years Eve. If you're ever in the position where you are considering visiting a Chilean supermarket on New Years', I heartily do not recommend it. Not if you like your sanity. Or full limb functionality, those nannas can be vicious.

Of course, even at the best of times (and for those who don't know, the best of times is precisely 10-10.15am on a Tuesday), Chilean supermarkets appear to have been created by some shady secret service to elicit confessions to international hate crimes. Or perhaps to provoke the same (see Gauntanamo). They only thing they're missing is a bit of waterboarding in the cold storage room. I'm sure one of the seven levels of hell is a Chilean supermarket. They're crowded, which would be ok except that the aisles are tiny, shelf stackers lounge around stack shelves at the most inappropriate times, and people seem to sprout blinkers from their temples upon entering them and thus have no qualms about parking their trolley/fat ass precisely in the middle of the aisle while all the other timid Chileans wait patiently behind for them to move. As people here have precisely zero awareness of anyone else, this can take a while. Doing a lap of the supermarket requires about 40 minutes of your precious life that, let me be clear, you will never get back. 
Now take this usual shopping experience and multiply it by a hell-factor of, say..  a billion, and you'll get supermarkets on NYE. The whole experience consisted largely of an hour or so of me vaulting over dithering groups of nannas while screaming 'permiso' and lunging blindly at various shelves in order to grab whatever my hand happened to land on. Close enough is good enough, I say. I also say 'never again ask me to do this if you value my presence in your life.'

Naturally, after this I was more than regularly keen to get the bejeebus out of Santiago. And while everyone in the fifth region was planning on heading to Valpo/Vina where they claim the display is the 'third biggest in the world' (which, call me a horrible cynic, I have to say I'm slightly dubious about), we decided to go somewhere a bit more .. peaceful. Also, the normal 2 hour drive to Valpo is said to take upwards of 5hours on NYE, leaving a lot of people to bring in the new year in their car, in the middle of a traffic jam. Which doesn't sound terribly appealing.

So bags packed and barbecue foods at the ready, I was waiting for O to make it home. Which he did .. eventually. Or at least his body made an appearance, his mind, unfortunately, remained at work. Given that the place he works is about to inaugurate a rather important state cultural project that will be the legacy of the Bachillet government, and given that said project is in an entirely predictable state of disarray that, unfortunately, seems to have been predicted only by me, he was rather stressed out. So when I asked him whether we should take the expensive bottle of red that we have in the wine cellar cupboard or the one he got given as a Kris Kringle and his eyes nearly bulged out of his head at the prospect of making yet another decision, I sadly realised that we weren't going anywhere...

Vengeful Gods of New Years 1: Katy 0

So ever adaptable, and not really keen to insist O get behind the wheel of a car, we cracked open the supplies I'd fought so hard for earlier and saw in 2010 from the roof of our apartment building. Which fortunately has a wonderful view of the city at night:

We parked ourselves at the front, looking towards the Entel tower (approximately where the brightest lights are in this pic) and settled in to enjoy the view.
Of course, this being Chile, about 15 seconds before midnight the Sheraton across the river decided that to hell with the countdown and started its own display. Cheaters. (Although nice advertising technique - everyone in Santiago was looking their way for a good ten seconds, that's got to be worth something doesn't it.). I suspect this is the first and only time I'll ever see something begin not just on time, but actually early, in Chile so I savoured the moment.

Then, after much hugging ...  

.
..clouds of billowing smoke.

That's right. The fuegos artificiales ('artificial fires' i.e fireworks) had been superseeded by fair dinkum, real, lots of smoke style fuegos. Artificial fires are so 2009. Apparently.

So again,

Vengeful Gods of New Years - 5 billion and 1 : everyone else - 0

Did I mention that New Years always bites?

 **Article about the fire here. It doesn't seem that anyone was hurt.

I know its meant to be all about Christmas..

... but first, I feel I really have to draw your attention to the air quality today:

I took these photos this morning from the roof of our apartment building, bringing to mind two questions:
Firstly ... what in the name of the sweet lord am I breathing here?
And secondly.. will I ever be able to have children after this?


Now I know I could have left it there and continued my life in somewhat outraged ignorance, but in the spirit of Christmas and because we live in the age of the internets where no question is merely rhetorical, I asked Professor Google.
Which makes me either a canny internet researcher or a massive geek. Either way, I'm now an expert on air particles.**

Firstly, according to the ever so helpful air quality map provided by Chile's National Commission on the Environment, today's air contamination levels are considered to be 'good.'
Ok, ok ok, hold on people. Do you see the smog out there? Do you see the Andes? No! That's right, you don't. Because the biggest mountain chain in the Americas is currently obscured by a layer of brown smudge. Jeepers if this is considered 'good' I'd like to know what bad looks like. Actually, it probably looks something like a John Carpenter horror film from the 80s.

Perhaps this 'good' classification is not that surprising, because after more reading, I have to tell you (and I'm trying to be as nice as possible, it is Christmas after all) that Chile's classifications do seem a little, shall we say, relaxed. And by relaxed I mean insane.
According to Chile's National Environment Commission, levels of PM-10 (particles in the air less than 10 microns in size i.e. small enough to burrow into your throat, lungs and other organs and leave you with nasty cancers) can reach 100 micrograms per cubic meter and air quality will still be considered 'good.' What does that mean? Well, for some perspective, the limit set in the EU is 50. Yes, that's right, half. Here the Commission's little map tells me I don't need to be 'on alert' until we get to 200ug/cubic meter, and emergency levels are considered 500 or above! Well yes. If 500 micro-whatsits of cancer causing particles are swirling around every cubic meter of air around my head, then I do rather think that is an emergency thank you very much. John Carpenter, you'd be proud.

All I can say is I hope Santa's reindeers have been fitted with gas masks when they do their rounds tonight.

Righ, now I gotta to go see someone about my emphysema. Merry Christmas all.


** Disclaimer: I am in no way an expert on anything. Except perhaps Alaskan brown bears. And how to Google things. Not on air particles. Sorry I claimed I was.

For those eager beavers who want more comprehensive and intelligent commentary on this issue, some recent articles can be found here:
El Ciudadano "El aire que viene para Santiago" (Spanish) 
El Ciudadano "De qué se compone y qué daños causa el aire que se respira en Santiago?" (Spanish) 
El Mostrador "Contaminacion del aire en Santiago se escapo de las manos"(Spanish)
Blog from 2008: chileno "air quality" (English)
New Zealand's PM10 levels

Cheers to That - Things Chileans Like No. 1: Speeches

I don't know whether this is an Australian thing, but there are very few occasions in my life where I have felt the need to impart my wisdom to a random group of people.**

Those in Australia who do feel that need I invite to proceed directly to the Speakers Corner at the State Library where they will be able to stand comfortably on their soapbox and spout off about anything they like (anything they like within the limits set by anti-terrorism legislation of course) and everyone will duly ignore them.

In Chile I don't know if the Speakers' Corner thing is a tradition. What I do know, however, is that there is in actual fact no need for a Speakers' Corner here, because that role has already been filled more than comfortably by a fundamental part of any Chilean social gathering - 'the brindis'.
Yes, its time to put your soapboxes away and sit down people, for its much more comfortable to give a speech from right here at the dinner table.
A long speech. Very long. And ponderous.

Brindis means toast, which to me is something that happens at a 21st birthday party when either your dad or your best friend uses their consumption of the entire contents of the open bar as inspiration for a series of hilarious anecdotes featuring you. I understand the same thing happens at 30th birthday parties, although with less cask wine and more brand-name alcohol. Either way, toasts as I know them are generally funny, irreverent, and most importantly not too long as even the toast maker wants to get to the end part where we all raise our glasses and get back to the real reason that we are there. That is, drinking. We are Australian, after all.

The Chilean brindis seems to be an entirely different beast. For starters, it's not confined to rare and important occasions such as big-number birthdays or weddings. Nope, all it takes to make an appropriate moment for you to start dinging your cutlery against your glass is a simple table-full of people, preferably the instant they have just been served the hot portion of their meal, which of course they will now have no chance of consuming as in Chile it is considered rude to eat while someone is toast making.
With regards to the length of your toast, short and sweet is definitely out - think quantity over quality. The longer, the better.
Furthermore, for prime toast giving, make sure you are middle aged and a man, as the Chilean brindis seems to be almost exclusively the territory of the Chilean Dad. I have NEVER seen a Chilean Mum initiating nor giving a brindis. Actually, I've never seen anyone other than the said Chilean Dads doing so (cue discussion on machismo and/or paternal societies). But any reluctance on the part of everyone else to participate in the toast giving is more than made up for by said Chilean Dads, as they are quite happy to make multiple toasts. Get two Chilean Dads together at a table and they will take it in turns to pontificate to the captive crowd, repeatedly, at length, one after the other. I kid you not.
Finally, in the Chilean brindis, while it is customary to dedicate your toast to the person in question, you are under absolutely no obligation to confine the contents of your speech to that person and his/her achievements. Actually, the wider the range of topics that you can incorporate, the better. Rhetorical questions are also good, as are philosophical ones. I was at a birthday celebration the other night where an all time classic brindis was given that started off with Happy Birthday and ended up with the speech giver's thoughts on evolution, with a detour to consider the question of love somewhere in the middle. Bejeezus. If we didn't all need a drink before that, we certainly did afterwards.

So with the silly season and no doubt multiple toast giving opportunities nearly upon us, I would like to take a moment now to dedicate a toast to the Chilean Dads, for only they know how lonely it is to be always giving the speeches, and never receiving them.
Dear Chilean Dads, during the course of many meals, and thus many of your fine discourses on life, the universe and all that, I feel that I've learned a great deal. What have I learned? Good question. I've learned to listen out for the melodic tinkle of your fork against your glass and to take it as a cue to immediately eat as much as possible while my dinner is still hot. I've learned that surreptitiously drinking while you are making your toast is a good idea and that if people think I'm a crazy foreigner with no manners, that this is at least preferable to being sober. I've learned that I understand your speeches better if I am not sober. And I've learned that it certainly ain't over till the fat lady sings, or till your wife tells you that enough is enough and takes away your glass.
And so I sincerely thank you for taking the time out of your busy social schedule to educate, nay, to enlighten me on these and any number of other topics. I for one am certainly more informed about love and evolution now, and for that I say cheers!
Salud!


**Except of course, on this blog.

Photo by Sebduggan on Flickr (note, person depicted probably not a Chilean)

http://www.flickr.com/photos/joseywales/ / CC BY-NC-SA 2.0