My week in Chile

[heybitchmove]

So! Last Sunday, my old man took me with him on a six-day trip to Santiago.

It was THE BUSINESS. Not only is Santiago one of the most beautiful, most awesome cities I've ever been too, but the hotel gave us all the complimentary wine we could ask for-and by we, I mean me, because Pops doesn't drink wine. Ane wine did I drink. A lot.

Highlights:

Sunday: Did you know that, when flying over the Andes, the mountains appear considerably closer than they actually are? Because they do. Especially when you've had an entire bottle of wine with dinner (because hey, it's Mother's Day), and you father chooses that exact moment to tell you the story of that one Uruguayan rugby team that crash-landed in the Andes and had to resort to cannibalism to survive.

Also, no matter where you go in South America, "pepperoni" is never what you think it is. (It's not people, it's just not pepperoni.) Also: free wine.

Monday: Dined at an "American" joint called California. Learned valuable life lesson: Do Not mix a whole barbecue-chicken-jalapeño-pineapple pizza with three Cuba Libres and an entire pitcher of beer. Just don't. Otherwise, you might spend your night painting California's men's room with the contents of your stomach.

Then your cabbie will try to sell you porn or coupons to a strip club or something, I dunno. There were breasts, let's leave it at that.

Tuesday: Poshest sushi restaurant on Earth. I swear to Odin. At one point, I had to burp (sake does that to me, apparently), but was afraid that the place was too swank for the passing of gasses, so I held it until we made it to the parking lot, at which point it was no longer a burp, if you know what I mean. Also: sake.

Wednesday: I remember tacos and falling asleep at dinner and very little else. Also: margaritas. Allegedly.

Thursday: Met the members of All Time Low. (Apparently they're a band or something? I dunno.) Never heard their music, but they do make for very pleasant elevator company. There was an entire herd of screaming teenage girls in the parking lot when we emerged from the hotel and my father got hip-checked by an eight-grader. Because ROCK STARS, I guess.

Tried ceviche for the first time (it's basically the South American equivalent of sushi, only better because it's served yummy citrus sauce). Also tried GRILLED OCTOPUS ON A STICK for the first time. Both were fab, as were the four (five?) pisco sours I downed that night. Protip: if in Chile, try at least one pisco sour, but stop at three- otherwise HEARTBURN FROM SATAN.

Friday: Sat next to Edward Norton's German doppleganger on the flight home. Wanted to make out with him on the plane. Thought better of it. Witnessed him making out with some other dude at airport. Hated self for cowardice.

TL;DR:
"Ooo, boobies! Wait, I'm sorry...you probably don't want to see that, huh?"
"Pops, I'm gay, not dead. Let's see some fucking boobies."

And then there were boobies. And it was good.

This entry was originally posted at http://jerkface.dreamwidth.org/136490.html.