The flight was bad enough, having to get up at 2:30 to be at the airport at 3:30 for a flight that left at 4:45, only to sit by that kid–you know that kid– that four-year-old who doesn’t understand the concept of seat belts and crawls on the floor, while his father plays games on his phone.
If only he read to his son, I thought to myself, wondering what I’d do once I got off the plane in Santiago. I was going to Santiago, Chile, not because I had great desires to visit there, but because, well, it was the only flight to Lima that didn’t cost an arm and a leg, two limbs I was lucky enough not to lose hiking in Torres del Paine National Park.
With a few days to explore the city, I hopped off the plane with no expectations, just happy to retrieve my luggage at the carousel. However, my bag was damaged, which I’m convinced was caused from the kicking child. LATAM compensated me with forty bucks, even though I could get the handle fixed in Lima for five, giving me thirty-five frivolous dollars to blow in this surprisingly creative city.
I booked a room at the Residencial Univeristaria, which cost less per night than a bowl of spaghetti in Ushaia, as I’ve been trying my darnedest to keep this trip on a shoe-string budget. And shoelace budgets are hard to pull off in the days of Velcro, let me tell you. I pushed the buzzer of the two-star hotel, reading the collection of stickers on the door as I waited for the proprietor. A tall and skinny man hobbled to the door, wearing a sweater covered with fuzzballs. An old-fashion paper ledger was in tow.
He looked like a Pixar movie character come to life. He lead me to a huge map of the city in a dingy hallway, the ink worn off at favorite landmarks and the hotel location. I fell in love with the hotel at this point, even before I discovered the delivered-to-your-room breakfasts. I am so sick of micro-sized phone navigation. Trying to comprehend a city in screen-size sections is like looking at the Mona Lisa one jigsaw puzzle piece at a time.
The proprietor’s charm, like the marshmallow bits in cereal, have been the sweetest part of my trip, helping me overlook the room that is in need a good painting.
Street Art
Unlike my hotel room, Santiago does not need a paint job, as the street art is outrageous. There is barely a bare wall in the city, creativity dripping from every alley, giving Santiago a vibe you can’t define. Voices from spray-paint cans tell stories needed to be told and need no translation, showing up in the most unexpected of places.
Museums
I wandered to the National Museum of Fine Arts, as it had an entrance fee I could afford: FREE. While I prefer street art, I did take in a few marble butts and modern exhibits I didn’t understand, including one comprised of milk jugs and looked exactly like a raft my sister made as a kid. But hers ended up sinking in Paw Paw Lake, not in a museum. Being confused by the art, I wandered to a huge church where I did what most tourists do, take pictures instead of pray.
Seeing the Unexpected
With a pocket full of LATAM luggage money, I decided to splurge on a fun activity. While I could take a walking tour of historical Santiago, I bypassed them in lieu of a manicure. I walked into a salon that reeked of hair balms, a lady with old-school perm curlers in her hair dozing in a chair. The stylists were squeezed into stone-washed denim jeans as they gabbed with their clients A voluptuous woman seated next to me was getting huge rhinestones glued to her fake nails, the kind that make you wonder how she washes dishes. I glanced at her periodically when suddenly, I notice her top was off, yes, OFF—as she was showing everyone her pierced nipples. Everyone, including me. I didn’t need to see this. Her eyebrows rose as if asking me, bueno or no bueno? I wanted to ask her about metal detectors at the airport, but didn’t stick with Duolingo long enough to say that. I prayed she didn’t take a selfie. This was not the kind of sight you’d see on a Get Your Guide Tour.
Los Dominicos Market
Along with a live version of Girls Gone Wild in Santiago, I got check out more traditional Chilean art at the Los Dominicos Market, conveniently located at the metro stop with the same name. There are dozens of vendors selling homemade crafts you didn’t know you needed. The market also contained a fair amount of cats, which had different vibes than the felines of Lima. These cats didn’t want to be petted, and more than one gave me the stink eye when I snapped a photo. At least they liked to read, unlike that father on the plane.
Yum
My taste buds consider Santiago heaven. There is an abundance of vegetarian restaurants in the city, which is an oxymoron, as Chile is a city of carnivores. It’s known for plates piled high with beef and eggs, hearty stews and lamb. I found several funky eateries with vegan bowls, humungous tofu sandwiches topped with cans of green beans, the same kind you eat on Thanksgiving. Austral lager is readily available and rivals Chilean wine. Austral is brewed in Puntos Natales, the nutty aroma of hops filling the air near my hotel.
Getting Around
The Metro is pretty easy to navigate. Just consider turn your backpack into a front back and save your phone scrolling for your later. If you want to visit Valparaiso, it is recommended to fork out the money for a Get Your Guide tour, especially if you are a solo traveler. Guides will keep you from wandering in a pretty but also pretty-dangerous neighborhood.
Where to next?
With the last of my luggage allowance, I’ll be making a venture to the Tricao Bird Reserve. I hope to see more birds than the clucking chickens on TV screen, another exhibit I didn’t understand at the art museum. Tricao is about two hours south of the Santiago in San Domingo. Since I’m not crazy enough to drive here, I’m going with a tour. And, I’ll actually listen to the guide.
