huele como south quad
For my first few weeks in Chile, I dug in my fingernails and gripped with all of my white armed might at the idea that every taxi driver in the city knew my itty bitty street, Carlos Montt, sans explanation or direction. That they all could find the way to 5519 Carlos Montt with one eye popped out of the socket and stuffed behind their backs. After two or three nights of scenic routing past and around the turn off from Irarrazaval to Carlos Montt, it finally clicked. With bowed head, I surrendered the door to door service option, and began simply instructing taxistas to drop me off at Plaza Egaña.
Did that mean anything to you?
Thats fine. It all has made sense to me for about...a month and a half.
Santiago is huge.
I´ve walked, bused, and taxied its calles. I´ve skidded down below the pavement in crowded metros. I´ve gazed down from mountain peaks, and I´ve scoured my desk top sized yet TWO SIDED map of the city many a time in hopes of some sort of orientation.
I use compass directions now.
The Andes are always east.
I use military time now.
The metros stop at 22:30.
Coming home tonight from Kate and Mark´s, I got off the bus, as usual, in front of the humble eatery ¨Chinese Comida: Happy Everybody!¨ and was knocked for a diagonal step by the smell of grilled ham and cheese.
When, besides in the dorm and accompanied by tomato soup and an all cheddar/no ham option, do you smell grilled ham and cheese? Definitely not in Santiago. Orange cheese doesn´t EXIST here. And definitely not wafting out the gates of a Chinese restaurant.
curiouser and curiouser.
Leaving for Pucon tomorrow night and spending the weekend climbing a volcano, rafting, hunting wild boar, and other stuff like that.
Did that mean anything to you?
Thats fine. It all has made sense to me for about...a month and a half.
Santiago is huge.
I´ve walked, bused, and taxied its calles. I´ve skidded down below the pavement in crowded metros. I´ve gazed down from mountain peaks, and I´ve scoured my desk top sized yet TWO SIDED map of the city many a time in hopes of some sort of orientation.
I use compass directions now.
The Andes are always east.
I use military time now.
The metros stop at 22:30.
Coming home tonight from Kate and Mark´s, I got off the bus, as usual, in front of the humble eatery ¨Chinese Comida: Happy Everybody!¨ and was knocked for a diagonal step by the smell of grilled ham and cheese.
When, besides in the dorm and accompanied by tomato soup and an all cheddar/no ham option, do you smell grilled ham and cheese? Definitely not in Santiago. Orange cheese doesn´t EXIST here. And definitely not wafting out the gates of a Chinese restaurant.
curiouser and curiouser.
Leaving for Pucon tomorrow night and spending the weekend climbing a volcano, rafting, hunting wild boar, and other stuff like that.