Well, that’s enough mad adventuring for one week. I’m back in Santiago and watching an extremely interesting third place playoff between England and France, which looked at first to be an unexpected humiliation but now it seems it could really swing either way. Vamos, futbolista no soy, but I can appreciate that it’s a very good game that’s being played, even if the news this morning was full of prideful disdain about the very idea of playing for third place.
I checked my work emails for the first time since setting out for Patagonia this morning. I really hate doing so during the holidays – work is all-consuming enough during term-time as it is, without it eating into my holidays – but leaving it unread for more than a week is far, far worse. I’m absolutely the type that needs a clean inbox with no unread messages whatsoever, so it was reassuring that the only messages I’d had in that time were the daily reports about the boarders’ internet usage (which, as you might imagine, is utterly useless for the next eight weeks).
I had a proper rest this morning, relishing the fact that I didn’t need to go rushing off anywhere. One of my ears is still stuffy from the altitude, but with any luck it’ll go away in a few days or so.
In the meantime, Tomás has given me my own key to the house and took me to Jumbo, the largest supermarket in the area, to buy some Chilean snacks for me to try but also to pick up any supplies I might have missed (like razors, for example). After over a week without shaving, it does feel good to be moustache-less once again.
It’s always interesting exploring a supermarket in another country. Target is still up at the top of the most iconic supermarkets I’ve encountered, if only because it was just so effortlessly American – and, of course, I’d heard about it and seen it referred to in so much American media before.
In its supermarkets – much like everything else – Chile feels altogether more European than, say, Peru. Self checkouts, online shopping pickup points… it’s all very familiar. There are some notable differences: namely, the bored guards watching the car park both below and outside from high seats that look more like misplaced lifeguard stations. Chile is often touted as one of the safest destinations in South America, but that might well have something to do with the expected level of security. Where I’m staying in leafy suburban Las Condes, so many of the properties are locked away behind electronic gates and door buzzers. Is it really safer, or are people here just a lot more cautious by nature?
It’s currently 3:4 to England. It really could go either way. Tomorrow’s game is the one that really matters, though, and it looks like nearly all of Chile will come out in support of their former coloniser, since the alternative is their much-hated neighbour. Though, by the looks of things, Saka is keeping France very much on their toes. 3:5! What a hero.
I’ll sign off here – no need to report more until I have more to report. BB x
Hostal Boutique Merced 88, Santiago de Chile. 16.15.
Now here’s a setup I really didn’t see coming. This time yesterday I was sitting in a living room in a comfy suburb of Santiago de Chile, some twelve thousand miles from home, knocking back a Corona Extra and watching Spain take on Belgium in their quarterfinal game. Twenty-four hours later, I’m in downtown Santiago, resting my feet for a moment after climbing up Cerro San Cristobal to see the Andes once again. If you’d asked me where I’d be and what I’d be doing at this stage of the summer back in December, it wouldn’t have been either of those scenarios, that’s for sure.
I must have been absolutely exhausted yesterday, because the last thing I remember is sitting down on my bunk bed and checking the time, which was about 18.50ish. The next thing I knew, it was dark outside, the numbers on my phone’s home screen had morphed to 03.10 and a man in the bunk above mine was snoring loud enough to rival an Amazonian thunderstorm. Maybe that was what woke me up. Either way, I couldn’t get back to sleep, so I whiled away a couple of hours trying to work out what to do with the last week.
Of course, I didn’t realise that my adaptor was too big for the sockets here until my phone was down to 3%. Fortunately, the giant in the bunk next to mine (seriously, he must have been at least 6’6”) had exactly the same charger as mine, so I sneakily put my phone to charge and waited for about an hour for it to juice up just enough to guide me to a ferreteríain town.
Thus armed (and breakfasted) I detoured back to the hostel via the Parque Forestal to see what I could see (after all, I did bring the lens with me). A couple of Harris hawks kept putting the local pigeons to flight with their noisy circling, and I tried and failed to catch one of the park’s firecrowns as it flitted from flower to flower at blinding speed, but the austral thrushes were absolutely everywhere – and they were much less camera-shy.
They look a lot like the Chiguanco thrushes that were all around Cusco. Come to think of it, they don’t look all that different from the American robins of Central Park, in the right light. They’re clearly a very Santiago kind of bird. I guess I’ll be seeing more of them over the next few weeks.
I hadn’t really planned what to do with my day in downtown Santiago. Honestly, I had expected this week to be spent exploring the Lake District to the south, saving Patagonia for the end of the trip, but the guide I have hired is only working July this year, so I had to change my plans.
Santiago sits in a giant bowl, ringed on almost every side by the snow-capped peaks of the Andes. One finger of those lofty peaks stretches almost as far as Santiago’s heart. Crisscrossed by cycle paths and two very popular cable-car lines, the Cerro San Cristobal was just too great a temptation. As a rule, if there is a mountain nearby, I usually try to climb it. So that sorted out my plans for the day in one go!
It’s quite a climb – about an hour and a half up the eastern slope – but it does offer tremendous views of the capital city and its famous skyscraper, the Gran Torre Costanera, the tallest building in South America.
You can also appreciate the smog, which is really quite something.
I’m still tuning into the soundscape here, but three weeks in Peru have made the job a lot easier. I know a hummingbird now when I hear one, so it was fairly easy to find firecrowns on the way up – though they were nigh-on impossible to photograph, as hummingbirds so often are. One sound I did not recognise, however, was a strange owl-like call coming from the scrub. Merlin came to the rescue: it was a California Quail. I have wanted to see one of these enigmatic little things since I first saw them in Bambi as a kid.
California quail just isn’t the right name, though. They’re clearly quaver quails. Just look at the musical note embedded in the head of this dashing young male. You tell me that this handsome fella doesn’t deserve a musical name for wearing such a showy headpiece!
Speaking of showy headpieces, this tufted tit-tyrant was a nice find near the summit. For most of the morning, I could hear some kind of tyrant species high up in the trees, but this one came right down to eye-level and stuck around for a little while.
Santiago definitely looks better when you’re facing to the east. From the Cerro, the view out west is buried under a thick cloud of smog which seems perpetually fixed just above the horizon. The shape of the valley is part of the problem, trapping the exhaust fumes in a natural bowl, but it is something I’ve never seen the likes of before. I suppose I had better get used to it, as next year is likely to see me accompany some of my top public speakers to the world championships in Shanghai, and China is no stranger to smog.
Right at the very top, there is an enormous white statue of La Virgen de la Inmaculada Concepción, and at her feet, a small sanctuary. This seems to be the spot the locals make for in the afternoon, presumably to catch the sunset, as it was getting very busy by the time I reached it. Most of them doubtless made the ascent by cable car, as the lines to get tickets back down were just as big as they had been at the bottom. Foolishly, I still had my camera set to low-light shooting after my run-in with the quails, so when a buzzard-eagle appeared out of nowhere, I was woefully underprepared. I got off a few clean shots, but as it was close enough to see the glint in its eye, it was one of those encounters best left to the naked eye.
It didn’t get the same reaction from the crowd of sightseers that the condors did back in Peru – but then, Andean condors are twice as big and five times as heavy, so they really do command one’s attention.
I’m no less impressed by the Andes than I was when first I laid eyes on them. They really are the most impressive mountains I have ever seen, dwarfing every peak I have had the fortune to behold until now. Imagine growing up in the shadow of these mighty walls of rock and ice… Little wonder the Inca thought themselves divine!
My phone is nearly charged back up. Looking at the time, I think England have just set out against Norway in their quarterfinal game. I can’t watch or even follow the game on the radio thanks to the BBC being regionally locked, so I’ll just have to go for a walk and see if I can find anywhere playing the game en route. Could be a good excuse to take myself out for dinner, though I doubt I’ll do more than grab an empanada from a stall somewhere.
This time tomorrow I’ll be in Puerto Natales. It looks like Patagonia had its first snowfall last night. I can’t wait to see the snow again. It’s been too long! BB x
The Book of Barnabas 