I am finally getting off my butt and saving my travel pics to the international network for your viewing pleasure: www.flickr.com [if you have problems with this link, your can search on my flickr name,'formerlyblonder'].
It's just a start. I also have a monthly limit on uploads, so will have to add more photos over time. There are 26 folders in all and I am not adding them in order; my photos from Chile/Argentina are coming 1st (by end April) as I know many of my friends haven't visited there before.
Enjoy!
H :)
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Post mortem
Ok. So I've been home for over three weeks. Definitely enough time to absorb, regroup, rethink. I am working on the photos via Flickr - I'll add a further post to let you know the link.
Despite leaving a lot out, as I re-read, I am surprising myself with the detail in my blog. There is so much more I could have written about, such as:
the controversy about the beaver-like creature welcoming visitors to Fray Jorge Parque Nacional;
the way Peruvians are treated in Chile;
street fashion in the cities I visited.
The pleasant and slim Brazilian girl sitting next to me from Santiago to Sydney meant that my return journey was better than it could have been, however my trip home was so horrendous time-wise (via Auckland & Sydney - nearly 31hrs in total) that I would definitely book the homeward leg of my journey on Business Class on future overseas trips. This view may be jaundiced by the fact I had three long-haul flights in 5.5 weeks... Whilst it may not have reduced the apparent elephantitis in my ankles [=kankles], it would have saved me some discomfort. Hindsight is a many splendoured thing.
Probably useless customs info: if you want to bring manjar, or dulce de leche, biscuits/chocolates home from South America, avoid those made in Argentina or Colombia - you will have them confiscated. Mine were Chilean, so I was fine.
[In case you don't recall, dulce de leche, is that condensed milk caramel I loved so much. Incidentally, I made three cans of my own dulce de leche days after landing back in Perth. It turned out fabulously and I highly recommend it.
>Luke - your estimate of 3hrs in simmering water was pretty spot-on.]
Now to finish with some travel lists.
Favourite place: Valparaiso, with Paris at a close second.
As happy as I was to get home, I loved my journey and really enjoyed writing about my (mis)adventures. Thank you again for reading, and to those of you who have commented. I will be blogging on in the future - please stay tuned!
Hannah :)
Despite leaving a lot out, as I re-read, I am surprising myself with the detail in my blog. There is so much more I could have written about, such as:
The pleasant and slim Brazilian girl sitting next to me from Santiago to Sydney meant that my return journey was better than it could have been, however my trip home was so horrendous time-wise (via Auckland & Sydney - nearly 31hrs in total) that I would definitely book the homeward leg of my journey on Business Class on future overseas trips. This view may be jaundiced by the fact I had three long-haul flights in 5.5 weeks... Whilst it may not have reduced the apparent elephantitis in my ankles [=kankles], it would have saved me some discomfort. Hindsight is a many splendoured thing.
Probably useless customs info: if you want to bring manjar, or dulce de leche, biscuits/chocolates home from South America, avoid those made in Argentina or Colombia - you will have them confiscated. Mine were Chilean, so I was fine.
[In case you don't recall, dulce de leche, is that condensed milk caramel I loved so much. Incidentally, I made three cans of my own dulce de leche days after landing back in Perth. It turned out fabulously and I highly recommend it.
>Luke - your estimate of 3hrs in simmering water was pretty spot-on.]
Now to finish with some travel lists.
List #1: My 8 best travel tips.
|
List #2: Tips I didn't use (or used and didn't really need) that still make good sense.
|
List #3: Not-so-great tips.
|
Favourite place: Valparaiso, with Paris at a close second.
As happy as I was to get home, I loved my journey and really enjoyed writing about my (mis)adventures. Thank you again for reading, and to those of you who have commented. I will be blogging on in the future - please stay tuned!
Hannah :)
Friday, March 7, 2008
Perthward bound
Day 35: Thursday, 6 March 2008. La Chascona. This was the house in which Pablo Neruda kept his mistress Matilde Urrutia for several years, until she became his wife. In fact, the house was named after her (La Chascona = 'crazy-haired woman') and numerous tributes to her abound, notably in the form of portraits [two by Diego Riviera, no less!] and poems [the Captain's Verses were Neruda's secret love poems to Matilde and these are inset into the study desk of the 1st section of the house].
Aurora and I booked for a 1:00pm viewing [you have to take the guided tour. It's available in either Spanish or English]. We leave Luke behind for this one: he has been twice before.
I have high hopes. La Chascona seems at once mysterious; this is a house of sections. The first thing I see are the ripe grapes dangling from the latticework as we head into the public part of the house that Matilde remained in after her husband's death. As for La Sebastiana, the bar and dining room are designed in a quirky yet functional way. The dining table is made of araucaria (the native pine, now protected) and the wine bottle stabbed into the recycled French ship's bar is actually a cigarette holder. What I am really impressed with, though, is the secret passageway behind the cupboard. I feel like I have stepped into a real adventure!
My wonderment is shortlived. The passageway leads to a storeroom with a winding staircase; up the staircase is an everyday dining room and study area splashed with pop art. The study leads into Matilde's bedroom, separated from the bathroom by only a beaded curtain. This reminds me of the bathroom by the bar in La Sebastiana, which was similarly (un)shielded and I wonder what issue Neruda had with private toilets.
Aurora asks plenty of questions, I scrawl frantically in my notebook, the Italian lady on our tour has a heavy duty camera around her neck. The guide thinks we are all travelling together, asks if we are journalists, we all laugh and say no. Aurora keeps asking questions, I continue to scrawl, the Italian lady takes surreptitious photos indoors [Strictly not permitted - I wish I was so game!].
[Much missing text here -> just need to finish the blog before I leave Chile or it will hang over my head.]
In the end, I am a little disappointed with the triviality of the tour, the fact that we aren't free to spend as long as we liked pondering the rooms and grounds, the shallowness of the . I realise that most people do not have their entire personal lives on display in their houses, however this house is a closed book to his life. Sure, there are medals, a few poems, eclectic collections of flea market bargains, pictures of his inspirations [Where are the books...?]. But there is nothing beyond surface insight into the man. I am still inclined to think of him as a brilliant egomaniac. Maybe this is shallow of me.
After La Chascona, there is a bit of running around to sort out Aurora's student visa, lunch at a great little hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant [7,000 pesos each is pretty darn good!], more shopping in Providencia, then a short walk home. I mess up the entire kitchen while cooking dinner and we break a trend by actually starting to eat before 9:30pm.
Day 36: Friday, 7 March 2008. My last day in Chile! I am sad and ecstatic at once - sad to be leaving my friends who have been fabulous hosts but very excited about going home. I feel almost rested.
I start the day with a long walk. The limestone path down the centre of Pocuro is covered with tiny white beads. It reminds me of the sand balls created by hermit crabs on Cable Beach, their shape and the way they crush under foot.
We eat lunch at Casa da Veija, a traditional Chilean restaurant. We meet Aurora's mum (ex-CEO of a hospital in Mexico City) and her partner, Guillamo (he used to run an oil & gas company); they arrived last night. Both in their seventies, they are still super-active and look fantastic. I hope I look as good when I hit 70!
Comment from nowhere: they really love their sandwiches & hotdogs here. They even have a hotdog shop called 'Doggis'!
It is a blessing that the weather has cooled. It rained this morning, is thunderstorming right now - unheard of in March. I was wondering how I would fit everything into my suitcase; now it seems that I am able to wear my excess baggage in layers.
Time to run. Hope the thunderstorm passes before the flight is delayed.
To Luke & Aurora - you have been excellent hosts and I loved my time in Chile/Argentina.
To my friends and family in Perth - see you very soon.
To all - thanks for reading!
H :)
Aurora and I booked for a 1:00pm viewing [you have to take the guided tour. It's available in either Spanish or English]. We leave Luke behind for this one: he has been twice before.
I have high hopes. La Chascona seems at once mysterious; this is a house of sections. The first thing I see are the ripe grapes dangling from the latticework as we head into the public part of the house that Matilde remained in after her husband's death. As for La Sebastiana, the bar and dining room are designed in a quirky yet functional way. The dining table is made of araucaria (the native pine, now protected) and the wine bottle stabbed into the recycled French ship's bar is actually a cigarette holder. What I am really impressed with, though, is the secret passageway behind the cupboard. I feel like I have stepped into a real adventure!
My wonderment is shortlived. The passageway leads to a storeroom with a winding staircase; up the staircase is an everyday dining room and study area splashed with pop art. The study leads into Matilde's bedroom, separated from the bathroom by only a beaded curtain. This reminds me of the bathroom by the bar in La Sebastiana, which was similarly (un)shielded and I wonder what issue Neruda had with private toilets.
Aurora asks plenty of questions, I scrawl frantically in my notebook, the Italian lady on our tour has a heavy duty camera around her neck. The guide thinks we are all travelling together, asks if we are journalists, we all laugh and say no. Aurora keeps asking questions, I continue to scrawl, the Italian lady takes surreptitious photos indoors [Strictly not permitted - I wish I was so game!].
[Much missing text here -> just need to finish the blog before I leave Chile or it will hang over my head.]
In the end, I am a little disappointed with the triviality of the tour, the fact that we aren't free to spend as long as we liked pondering the rooms and grounds, the shallowness of the . I realise that most people do not have their entire personal lives on display in their houses, however this house is a closed book to his life. Sure, there are medals, a few poems, eclectic collections of flea market bargains, pictures of his inspirations [Where are the books...?]. But there is nothing beyond surface insight into the man. I am still inclined to think of him as a brilliant egomaniac. Maybe this is shallow of me.
After La Chascona, there is a bit of running around to sort out Aurora's student visa, lunch at a great little hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant [7,000 pesos each is pretty darn good!], more shopping in Providencia, then a short walk home. I mess up the entire kitchen while cooking dinner and we break a trend by actually starting to eat before 9:30pm.
Day 36: Friday, 7 March 2008. My last day in Chile! I am sad and ecstatic at once - sad to be leaving my friends who have been fabulous hosts but very excited about going home. I feel almost rested.
I start the day with a long walk. The limestone path down the centre of Pocuro is covered with tiny white beads. It reminds me of the sand balls created by hermit crabs on Cable Beach, their shape and the way they crush under foot.
We eat lunch at Casa da Veija, a traditional Chilean restaurant. We meet Aurora's mum (ex-CEO of a hospital in Mexico City) and her partner, Guillamo (he used to run an oil & gas company); they arrived last night. Both in their seventies, they are still super-active and look fantastic. I hope I look as good when I hit 70!
Comment from nowhere: they really love their sandwiches & hotdogs here. They even have a hotdog shop called 'Doggis'!
It is a blessing that the weather has cooled. It rained this morning, is thunderstorming right now - unheard of in March. I was wondering how I would fit everything into my suitcase; now it seems that I am able to wear my excess baggage in layers.
Time to run. Hope the thunderstorm passes before the flight is delayed.
To Luke & Aurora - you have been excellent hosts and I loved my time in Chile/Argentina.
To my friends and family in Perth - see you very soon.
To all - thanks for reading!
H :)
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Food & Fashion in Santiago
Still trying on the present-tense style for brevity [believe it or not, you are getting the abridged version!]. Tell me if it's assaulting your eyes.
Day 31: Sunday, 2/03/2008. Museo de la Moda: dedicated to the history of costume. Aurora insists on working, so Luke and I head to the fashion museum at around 3pm, giving us just over an hour to view the exhibits. I expect the place to be teeming with people but it is very still.
The Museo de la Moda was established in 1999 by Jorge Yarur Bascunan, heir to a Chilean textiles empire. The museum itself is the old family home, designed under the influence of architect Frank Lloyd Wright [who, ironically, was a topic of dinner conversation the night before].
The museum makes a stunning entrance to operatic strains: the courtyard, shaded by Japanese maples, leads into the historical prelude to the collection, which includes a list of past tennis Grand Slam event winners [...?].
Bourgeousie French music as the light dims us into the past. First, a dressing room, wardrobe, satin-covered coathangers. The living room is a study of different textures and cultural styles, mixed wallpapers, garish gold accents on natural shades and fibres.
Between these rooms and the next display: Chinese lanterns. Two women's dresses from the 1800s appear in their own climate-controlled box at the entrance to two rooms of tennis apparel. Old outfits from tennis greats have been donated to the museum - I am particularly amazed at the crystal detail on the women's tennis dresses. Were they designed to dazzle their opponents? The list of tennis from the entrance makes a little sense now.
From room displays we are propelled into a Ford Thunderbird and scrolling images of Hollywood pin-ups past.
I am disappointed by the fact this seems to be an exploration of interior design and tennis rather than real fashion, then the world unfolds as we are flung into room after room of dresses and costumes and formal attire from the 1700s to 2003. I am amazed at the vast array of big-name designers and actors who have contributed items (eg. Gaultier, Chanel, Versace, Armani, Joan Collins), inspired by the longevity of the haute couture empires and of the fashion itself. It is interesting to see how techniques, textures, shapes and patterns have changed; more fascinating to discover how much has been recycled or remained the same.
They keep the house open late for us and other latecomers. The house itself is on display; the wall texture, colour and music evolves at similar intervals to its contents, but they are not in synergy. I love it. All of it. Luke comments that it would have been nice to see a contrasting representation from pop & punk culture and casual attire and I tend to agree, but I wonder where they would put it.
Favourite quotes from the front end of the museum:
The dress must not hang on the body... It must accompany its wearer and when a woman smiles the dress should smile with her. Madeleine Vionnet
Carelessness in dressing is moral suicide. Honore de Balzac
When in doubt, wear red. Bill Blass
Epic Automobilic Adventure #1: finding food. Our search for lunch [at 5:30pm! The guards let us stay at the museum well past closing time] takes us all over Providencia, to no avail. It's Sunday and nothing is open. We arrive home, despondent, at 6:30pm. Luke's banana smoothies tide us over.
Epic Automobilic Adventure #2: more attempts to find food. We leave the house at about 7:40pm, as restaurants in Santiago break after the lunch rush and reopen for dinner at 7:30pm. We enjoy an impromptu tour around Santiago [it's becoming a regular part of every drive] and arrive at the restaurant just after 9pm.
Dinner is fantastic. We eat at a Peruvian restaurant called El Aji Seco, which Aurora & Luke visited once before. It is in a part of town that Luke forbids me from entering by myself, "even during the day".
The interior is tacky and plastic, like a cheap Chinese restaurant that is overly lit. Soccer is playing on the TV, which is up too loud. The commentator screams at every near-goal. We move tables rather than ask for a change in volume; soon it seems that another gringo has satisfied our wish by asking for that very thing. Then the children at the next table start playing loudly, or maybe they were that loud before, masked by the fanatical commentator. It's a good sign that most of the other patrons are Peruvian.
I look to the menu. Nothing is remotely recognisable, the waiters do not speak English and there are no pictures to help. I am very grateful for my friends' recommendations, which are most delicious. We share two corn-based meals for entree; tamale (seasoned polenta bread with chicken and an olive baked in the middle) with a red onion and coriander salad, and choclos a la huancaina (ginormous corn kernels with a lightly-spiced yellow sauce made from mild orange chillis, corn and breadcrumbs). We order recoto, a super-hot chilli sauce, on the side. Even just dipping the tip of your fork into it before a mouthful gives the huancaina a real zing.
As we eat, Luke and Aurora explain to me the strong Chinese influence in modern Peruvian cooking and the wide variety of foods available to Peruvians because of the diversity of climates in the country.
We each have very different and equally tasty mains. Mine is aji de gallina, a shredded chicken dish, potato and olive dish with the huancaina sauce; Aurora orders another tamale after the success of the entree; Luke has the seco de vercun, beef with coriander and beans [seco de cordero is the same dish with lamb]. I can not believe the cost, at only 15,000 pesos ($US30) for three of us. Moi rico! I am inspired to buy a Peruvian cookbook when I get home and seek out the ingredients.
Epic Automobilic Adventure #3: the dvd-returning debacle. It takes a long time to get to Blockbuster to return The Chronicles of Riddick, which we had borrowed several days earlier, because of the one-way streets. Luke decides it is the perfect time to try a short-cut home. It turns out to be a long-cut.
Day 32: Monday, 3/03/2008. Today I seek great Chilean art in Bellavista. While I find some inspiration, the art is pretty much the same from gallery to gallery. What I like is either too expensive or sold already.
Day 33: Tuesday, 4/03/2008. I start the day with breakfast and a walk through Santiago, along Avendia Pocuro. This leads me to a strip of green and park alongside the intersecting main road known as Parque Tobalaba. I follow Parque Tobalaba to its end, at the famous building with hanging gardens that has won architectural accolades and receives many Japanese tourists; around the bend is Parque Bernardo Leighton, separated from Parque Tobalaba by a central drain. I follow this second park back to Av. Pocuro: the round trip takes me over two hours. I am energised.
My shopping expedition in Bellavista. A quick internet search tells me that the semi-precious lapis lazuli is found only in Chile and Afghanistan. I am keen to take some home and am amazed at the plethora of jewellery shops within a few blocks of each other.
Hannah's Chilean Travel Tip #1: Shop around before you buy. Bellavista is a great place to find side-by-side lapis lazuli jewellery shops, just be aware that many shops use the same artists/suppliers and costs can vary considerably between vendors. You may even want to hold off and look through the markets across from Cerro Santa Lucia before you make any decisions.
Hannah's Chilean Travel Tip #2: Parking in Santiago will cost you pesos. The cost is usually small change and varies from place to place. Be prepared to pay something and count yourself lucky if there is no one there to collect.
The latter part of the afternoon is spent fruit & veg shopping at La Vega.
Dinner at Pablo's. Pablo is one of Luke & Aurora's friends [He is about to start his Masters studies and works with aerial photography to identify changes in forestation over time. I thought Landgate friends may find this interesting]. Aurora, Luke and I have been invited to a small dinner party at his place to taste his magnificent huacaina sauce.
At first, it appears that there will be six of us. Then a seventh setting is placed at the table. Then a torrent of Spanish-speaking people suddenly appear in the living room. Then they are gone and there is food on the table at around 11pm. Apparently this is usual, late dinners and people wandering in and out between the next-door apartments.
I am getting used to late meals: breakfast is served at around 11am, lunch between 3 and 5pm, dinner no earlier than 9:30pm.
The aji de gallina and papas a la huacaina are delicious, even according to Aurora's student Meligros's standards [she is Peruvian; I hope I guessed the spelling of her name correctly!]. During mains, a number of people wander in to say hello, wander out again just as quickly. Once the main course is finished, a sort of musical chairs occurs; one guest disappears and another takes their place for dessert. The torrent of guests reappears from next door to drink and socialise [I am grateful that they speak English well and, once again, I am ashamed of my poor Spanish]. I animate when the subject turns to cork and wine at the end of the evening. It is nearly 2am when we leave.
Day 34: Wedneday, 5/03/2008. Sight-seeing and shopping downtown near Cerro Santa Lucia. Walking up Cerro Santa Lucia, a memorial and a tribute to Chilean defence, is a great way to start the afternoon. Beautiful old buildings, stone steps, a lookout across the city. An interesting find: a plaque from Charles Darwin, celebrating its fabulous view [there is also a garden dedicated to Darwin on the Cerro]. I love the library made of an old train carriage. It sits at the bottom of the hill.
Hannah's Chilean Travel Tip #3: When I mentioned toilets in my Argentinian tip #1, I should have also told you that baños cost 150 pesos per visit in most places throughout Chile. Be aware that paying pesos does not guarantee a cleaner experience.
The markets at Cerro Santa Lucia. Crossing the road to the markets is a much tougher feat than first reckoned. It involves walking down the street and around the corner to cross at a set of lights, then across at another set of lights, then back to the markets which were only just across the road from the entrance to the Cerro. The markets are basic but interesting and I manage to spend a couple of hours looking at the leatherwork, jewellery, lamps and copper creations.
Despite growing hunger, I drift off to sleep almost as soon as we arrive back at the apartment. My strange dream is disrupted when I am stirred for dinner. [It was a space battle over a broken freeway involving Smurfette with bunny feet and a smurf crew, a TRON/Automan hybrid (who starts out in his own spaceship, but later on he climbs into Smurfette's spaceship) and unidentified bad guys. This overseas journey is causing some sort of psychoanalytic regression, I am sure...]
We eat dinner cheaply at a traditional German Chilean restaurant that I couldn't read the name of. In spite of how it sounds, apparently it is traditional. Many Germans fled to Chile post WWII; this restaurant was est. in 1945. Pablo joins us for the meal [BTW, my sandwich de ave completo is 2,900 pesos and absolutely great!] and his friend Harvey spots us as he is passing by. I realise just how small Santiago is, which makes me think of the smallness of Perth, which makes me miss home. Two days to go!
Day 31: Sunday, 2/03/2008. Museo de la Moda: dedicated to the history of costume. Aurora insists on working, so Luke and I head to the fashion museum at around 3pm, giving us just over an hour to view the exhibits. I expect the place to be teeming with people but it is very still.
The Museo de la Moda was established in 1999 by Jorge Yarur Bascunan, heir to a Chilean textiles empire. The museum itself is the old family home, designed under the influence of architect Frank Lloyd Wright [who, ironically, was a topic of dinner conversation the night before].
The museum makes a stunning entrance to operatic strains: the courtyard, shaded by Japanese maples, leads into the historical prelude to the collection, which includes a list of past tennis Grand Slam event winners [...?].
Bourgeousie French music as the light dims us into the past. First, a dressing room, wardrobe, satin-covered coathangers. The living room is a study of different textures and cultural styles, mixed wallpapers, garish gold accents on natural shades and fibres.
Between these rooms and the next display: Chinese lanterns. Two women's dresses from the 1800s appear in their own climate-controlled box at the entrance to two rooms of tennis apparel. Old outfits from tennis greats have been donated to the museum - I am particularly amazed at the crystal detail on the women's tennis dresses. Were they designed to dazzle their opponents? The list of tennis from the entrance makes a little sense now.
From room displays we are propelled into a Ford Thunderbird and scrolling images of Hollywood pin-ups past.
I am disappointed by the fact this seems to be an exploration of interior design and tennis rather than real fashion, then the world unfolds as we are flung into room after room of dresses and costumes and formal attire from the 1700s to 2003. I am amazed at the vast array of big-name designers and actors who have contributed items (eg. Gaultier, Chanel, Versace, Armani, Joan Collins), inspired by the longevity of the haute couture empires and of the fashion itself. It is interesting to see how techniques, textures, shapes and patterns have changed; more fascinating to discover how much has been recycled or remained the same.
They keep the house open late for us and other latecomers. The house itself is on display; the wall texture, colour and music evolves at similar intervals to its contents, but they are not in synergy. I love it. All of it. Luke comments that it would have been nice to see a contrasting representation from pop & punk culture and casual attire and I tend to agree, but I wonder where they would put it.
Favourite quotes from the front end of the museum:
Carelessness in dressing is moral suicide. Honore de Balzac
When in doubt, wear red. Bill Blass
| The story of my new coat. It's by Pitti Palacios, a Chilean designer [take a look at the website - my coat is last one on the right]. When I discovered she was from Valparaiso, I pinched myself for not finding her shop while I was there, not that there was any time to shop. My coat awaited my arrival in a display cabinet in the Museo gift shop. I asked for the price, determined it was really too much, and decided to leave it to fate [for those who have shopped with me before, that means leaving it on the rack, then trying it on if it is still there after looking at the gallery, just to prove it's a bad fit]. Unfortunately it was fabulous. Now I have a designer coat from Chile :) |
Epic Automobilic Adventure #1: finding food. Our search for lunch [at 5:30pm! The guards let us stay at the museum well past closing time] takes us all over Providencia, to no avail. It's Sunday and nothing is open. We arrive home, despondent, at 6:30pm. Luke's banana smoothies tide us over.
Epic Automobilic Adventure #2: more attempts to find food. We leave the house at about 7:40pm, as restaurants in Santiago break after the lunch rush and reopen for dinner at 7:30pm. We enjoy an impromptu tour around Santiago [it's becoming a regular part of every drive] and arrive at the restaurant just after 9pm.
Dinner is fantastic. We eat at a Peruvian restaurant called El Aji Seco, which Aurora & Luke visited once before. It is in a part of town that Luke forbids me from entering by myself, "even during the day".
The interior is tacky and plastic, like a cheap Chinese restaurant that is overly lit. Soccer is playing on the TV, which is up too loud. The commentator screams at every near-goal. We move tables rather than ask for a change in volume; soon it seems that another gringo has satisfied our wish by asking for that very thing. Then the children at the next table start playing loudly, or maybe they were that loud before, masked by the fanatical commentator. It's a good sign that most of the other patrons are Peruvian.
I look to the menu. Nothing is remotely recognisable, the waiters do not speak English and there are no pictures to help. I am very grateful for my friends' recommendations, which are most delicious. We share two corn-based meals for entree; tamale (seasoned polenta bread with chicken and an olive baked in the middle) with a red onion and coriander salad, and choclos a la huancaina (ginormous corn kernels with a lightly-spiced yellow sauce made from mild orange chillis, corn and breadcrumbs). We order recoto, a super-hot chilli sauce, on the side. Even just dipping the tip of your fork into it before a mouthful gives the huancaina a real zing.
As we eat, Luke and Aurora explain to me the strong Chinese influence in modern Peruvian cooking and the wide variety of foods available to Peruvians because of the diversity of climates in the country.
We each have very different and equally tasty mains. Mine is aji de gallina, a shredded chicken dish, potato and olive dish with the huancaina sauce; Aurora orders another tamale after the success of the entree; Luke has the seco de vercun, beef with coriander and beans [seco de cordero is the same dish with lamb]. I can not believe the cost, at only 15,000 pesos ($US30) for three of us. Moi rico! I am inspired to buy a Peruvian cookbook when I get home and seek out the ingredients.
Epic Automobilic Adventure #3: the dvd-returning debacle. It takes a long time to get to Blockbuster to return The Chronicles of Riddick, which we had borrowed several days earlier, because of the one-way streets. Luke decides it is the perfect time to try a short-cut home. It turns out to be a long-cut.
Day 32: Monday, 3/03/2008. Today I seek great Chilean art in Bellavista. While I find some inspiration, the art is pretty much the same from gallery to gallery. What I like is either too expensive or sold already.
| An interesting thing that Luke & Aurora told me about when I first got to Santiago but I forgot to mention. The police in Santiago drive around in vans that are fitted with crowd control devices. The locals have dubbed them with pet names that correspond to local animals, depending on the mechanism. For example, the van with the water cannon is known as guanako (named for the spitting action of the llama-like creature), and the tear-gas vehicle is zorrillo (or 'skunk', for obvious reasons...). Cool, eh? There are also street performers at almost every set of traffic lights in central Santiago. They appear in front of you when the lights are red - magicians, clowns, jugglers, acrobatic troupes. Once they have completed a few tricks, and most are impressive, they hold out their hands for pesos and move on to try their luck with the next layer of cars. |
Day 33: Tuesday, 4/03/2008. I start the day with breakfast and a walk through Santiago, along Avendia Pocuro. This leads me to a strip of green and park alongside the intersecting main road known as Parque Tobalaba. I follow Parque Tobalaba to its end, at the famous building with hanging gardens that has won architectural accolades and receives many Japanese tourists; around the bend is Parque Bernardo Leighton, separated from Parque Tobalaba by a central drain. I follow this second park back to Av. Pocuro: the round trip takes me over two hours. I am energised.
My shopping expedition in Bellavista. A quick internet search tells me that the semi-precious lapis lazuli is found only in Chile and Afghanistan. I am keen to take some home and am amazed at the plethora of jewellery shops within a few blocks of each other.
| Parking in Santiago. You will find that, in some streets where there is no official parking inspector, cheeky locals have decided to assume the duties. Even if you know they are not legitimate, they may reason that they are providing a community service by making sure you car does not get hit or scratched (thereby inferring that your car will get damaged if you refuse to pay). These rogue inspectors are not seen as a real nuisance. With parking spaces so tight in general, it is useful to have someone there to assist with parking. It's also good to know that there is someone keeping watch over your car while you are away. In several places, you can even get you car washed while you are away from your car, for a fee of course. Many shopping centres have carwashes fitted into their undercover carparks, which operate for a small fee. Now that would encourage me to keep my car clean! I think this idea should be introduced to Perth shopping centres. |
The latter part of the afternoon is spent fruit & veg shopping at La Vega.
Dinner at Pablo's. Pablo is one of Luke & Aurora's friends [He is about to start his Masters studies and works with aerial photography to identify changes in forestation over time. I thought Landgate friends may find this interesting]. Aurora, Luke and I have been invited to a small dinner party at his place to taste his magnificent huacaina sauce.
At first, it appears that there will be six of us. Then a seventh setting is placed at the table. Then a torrent of Spanish-speaking people suddenly appear in the living room. Then they are gone and there is food on the table at around 11pm. Apparently this is usual, late dinners and people wandering in and out between the next-door apartments.
I am getting used to late meals: breakfast is served at around 11am, lunch between 3 and 5pm, dinner no earlier than 9:30pm.
The aji de gallina and papas a la huacaina are delicious, even according to Aurora's student Meligros's standards [she is Peruvian; I hope I guessed the spelling of her name correctly!]. During mains, a number of people wander in to say hello, wander out again just as quickly. Once the main course is finished, a sort of musical chairs occurs; one guest disappears and another takes their place for dessert. The torrent of guests reappears from next door to drink and socialise [I am grateful that they speak English well and, once again, I am ashamed of my poor Spanish]. I animate when the subject turns to cork and wine at the end of the evening. It is nearly 2am when we leave.
Day 34: Wedneday, 5/03/2008. Sight-seeing and shopping downtown near Cerro Santa Lucia. Walking up Cerro Santa Lucia, a memorial and a tribute to Chilean defence, is a great way to start the afternoon. Beautiful old buildings, stone steps, a lookout across the city. An interesting find: a plaque from Charles Darwin, celebrating its fabulous view [there is also a garden dedicated to Darwin on the Cerro]. I love the library made of an old train carriage. It sits at the bottom of the hill.
The markets at Cerro Santa Lucia. Crossing the road to the markets is a much tougher feat than first reckoned. It involves walking down the street and around the corner to cross at a set of lights, then across at another set of lights, then back to the markets which were only just across the road from the entrance to the Cerro. The markets are basic but interesting and I manage to spend a couple of hours looking at the leatherwork, jewellery, lamps and copper creations.
Despite growing hunger, I drift off to sleep almost as soon as we arrive back at the apartment. My strange dream is disrupted when I am stirred for dinner. [It was a space battle over a broken freeway involving Smurfette with bunny feet and a smurf crew, a TRON/Automan hybrid (who starts out in his own spaceship, but later on he climbs into Smurfette's spaceship) and unidentified bad guys. This overseas journey is causing some sort of psychoanalytic regression, I am sure...]
We eat dinner cheaply at a traditional German Chilean restaurant that I couldn't read the name of. In spite of how it sounds, apparently it is traditional. Many Germans fled to Chile post WWII; this restaurant was est. in 1945. Pablo joins us for the meal [BTW, my sandwich de ave completo is 2,900 pesos and absolutely great!] and his friend Harvey spots us as he is passing by. I realise just how small Santiago is, which makes me think of the smallness of Perth, which makes me miss home. Two days to go!
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Mendoza is fabulous for shopping
This is a catch up post, very close to my last one which you may not have read yet. I am trying on a more succinct and present style - please let me know if you like it. The post is not all about Mendoza; the bulk of it is.
Thank you to Katie B, Eloise, Pauline, Donald, Geoff & Sylvia, and my mum & dad for reading and for your comments.
Day 26: Tuesday, 26/02/2008. Day of recovery. Wake up late. Breakfast on mote, yoghurt & fruit. Doctor's appointment: antibiotics twice a day for a week.
Day 27: Wednesday, 27/02/2008. Mendoza Day 1. We wake up late, again [I realise later that this is a Luke trademark; Aurora does not seem surprised]. Run for a taxi, run for the bus, reach it with no minutes to spare. 8:40am departure.
The scenery changes as soon as the bus leaves Santiago. Shrubs on flats give way to hills that unfurl into mountains, just when you think there was nothing left to see. Colours merge into others by the minute, from green to grey to blue and red. The mountains are cold and irregular. Craggy old men.
Further on, the railway that paces our progress is reclaimed by the mountains. Fallen rocks, boulders, landslides obscure all or part of the line in places; in other parts, the rail hangs over weathered crevices like a suspension bridge. This rail used to travel over the Andes.
Countless switchbacks as we traverse over the mountains. More than the 27 I was prepared for. The path disappears in ribbons behind us.
Entering Argentina, I have a slight headache then realise why: we are at 3,500m. Still in the safe zone [I'm meant to avoid 3,658m+. How did doctors arrive at the figure?]. The fresh steak sandwich at the border is a godsend [great idea, Luke!]. We eat on the bus. So hungry. I can't stomach the 3-day old Turbus-provided cheese sandwich. Listeria City. No problems getting into Argentina. This does not bode well for the return journey.
Condors overhead as we continue. I manage a few pictures. None capture their size or magnificence. They are dwarfed by the mountains. Horses on the mountainside look like specks; I can only tell what they are when I zoom in on a photo. I am in awe of the natural skyscrapers around us.
Then, suddenly, flat earth. An hour after that, vineyards that stretch for endless kilometres. It pains me that I can not try the wines. Mendoza is famous for its malbec. I see a chocolate factory and my heart feels light again. So shallow.
We arrive in Mendoza at around 3:30pm, to perfect weather. It is easy to see why Mendoza is known as the land of good sun and good wine.
The fun begins as we:
I am getting very good at on-the-spot currency conversions.
Dinner is @ 10:30pm, at an Italo-Argentinian restaurant that is not fabulous. They say they are known for their seafood; we end up with heavy pasta dishes and spend around 30 pesos each. I can not contemplate filling my ice-cream stomach as planned.
While shopping, my handbag breaks. The strap wants to try its luck in the world on its own. Luke looks looks at me like I have done this on purpose, concedes we will need to go shopping for a handbag tomorrow [I am sure it relieves Luke that Aurora is into ecology rather than shopping]. I spotted a fabulous-looking candidate that afternoon: Prune.
First impressions. Cosmopolitan, outdoors culture. Fabulous shops. Malls are similar to Perth, with more eclectic selections. Dirtier than Santiago but more endearing. Pathways are tiled rather than paved; they are uneven and miss chunks at inconvenient intervals. Watch your feet. Bins are on stilts to prevent access by rats and dogs. The place is buzzing, even at this hour. I feel safe and comfortable.
Day 28: Thursday, 28/02/2008. Mendoza Day 2. Breakfast is at El Mercado Central, where I learned to ask for a bag (balsa) and table (messa). We eat a very croissant-like media luna from Cafe del Marcado plus a baked empanada from the fishmonger (Pescaderia). It is a party-sized super-fresh pastie, with mince, onion, herbs and hard-boiled egg. Flaky pastry = delicious = high fat.
Empanadas are sold all over Mendoza. I determine to put aside any figure concerns for the sake of two important causes: comparative empanada de carne and media luna battles.
Empanada #2, also from El Mercado Central, comes from a place that sells pizzas and family-sized empanadas. This one encloses half an olive and tastes much richer. The pastry appeals less; it is not so flaky. I preferred #1.
We leave El Mercado Central and find the contemporary art museum closed :-( I am a little sad about this and realise there is only one thing for it: handbag shopping!
After reviewing a little traditional place that specialises in carpincho leather [the carpincho is an animal native to Argentina that looks kind of like a beaver, bred for leather and meat], we end up at Prune. I am in love with this shop. A Ferrari red handbag replaces my staid black one for 298 pesos ($US100). I am ecstatic.
Empanada #3 comes from Don Claudio. It is nice, not overly exciting, different pastry texture yet again. The addition of spring onion gives it a higher rating than #2. Needing something sweet to wash it down, and far from more media lunas, we head to Ferruccio Soppelsa. Argentinian icrecream. Mmm...
Hannah´s tip for Argentina #1: When you go to al baños (the toilets), check for toilet paper outside of the cubicles. Sometimes, you have to take it in with you.
Time to go. Flag down a taxi after wandering through half the city with no luck. Arrive at the bus terminal just in time to be exactly an hour late. We missed the bus. I am chief timekeeper, by virtue of my wristwatch, and I didn't realise we had changed timezones. I am gutted. We book another bus - the next one is at 11pm. Total cost of journey with double payment of one leg = $US60. Still a bargain.
Hannah´s tip for Argentina #2: Check the local time when you arrive.
Despondent, I seek solace in a media luna from the bus terminal bakery.
Hannah´s tip for Argentina #3: Hold off on the media lunas until you get into town. No matter how good they look in the terminal, they aren´t.
The upside to this twist of fate: we now have time to search for humming birds and leaf-cutting ants. Off to Parque San Martin. On the way around the lake: an instant coffee posing as a cappuccino, papas fritas and a man with purple hands. He is the artist attached to the purple (painted) man, who appears some minutes later.
We hear the humming birds before we see them. There are at least two varieties here. They move so quickly and, just as one comes close, another chases it away. I have never seen anything like it. I take many photos, not all of them containing obvious specimens. I will compile a "Where's Wally?" styled montage for the humming birds when I put my album together.
Across the road: leaf-cutting ants. They are incredible, lifting such huge weights with their tiny frames. Luke tries to goad them into cutting a giant leaf into fragments; some survey the engineering feat required while most walk around, over, underneath it. [Aurora tells me that, when you are in the bush, you can hear the clicking sound of the ants in a bush before you know they are there. Return the next day and you find it devoid of leaves.]
Next media luna adventure: Via Civit. A pastry filled with dulce de leche and I do not realise it is the size of a Hungry Jack´s Whopper until it's in front of me. Laughter as everyone around me knows I won't get through it. Absolutely delicious. I had to take half away with me after enjoying too much of the creamy sweetness [And I ate the rest after my big walk yesterday (29/02). It was fabulous!].
I am not a fan of McDonald's in general but I have to admire the fact that they really cater for local audiences. In Paris, there was the Royal Cheese; in Santiago, a chicken burger with avocado; in Mendoza, McD's sells empanadas with a creole chicken burger and red wine in a meal deal! The main restaurant advertisements feature a corkscrew and grapes.
Empanada #4 is at Estancia La Florencia, as a complimentary entree to dinner. It reminds me of empanada #1, without the egg or flaky pastry. For 31 pesos, my chivita cazadora (baby goat stew) [Aurora's recommendation; yes, Katie B, this is capretto] is tender and flavoursome. The service is excellent.
Hannah´s tip for Argentina #4: Unless you have a hankering for pancreas, don't order the mollejas ( pan dulce; aka "sweetbreads"). These are definitely not sweet bread.
Final scores for the baked empanada de carne battle:
Recommendation: #1, for its mild flavour and flaky pastry, although I still have a certain fondness for Huentelauquen's fried empanada con queso...
For the media lunas, there is no such debate. The ridiculously enormous glazed pastry injected with dulce de leche from Via Civit wins hands down. My hot tip: don't eat beforehand [Dulce de leche is the condensed-milk caramel known as alfajor in Chile. I have the recipe in my hot little hands!].
Then it is time to run for a taxi. Again. We arrive well within time this time.
Hannah´s tip for Argentina #5: Always have change (not too small!) on you to tip. For everything, from service, to food, to baggage-handling. Otherwise you get evils. This goes for Chile too.
There is a snorer across the aisle. He starts up almost as soon as we leave Mendoza. Hairy behemoth of a man, black as the dark outside, rasping my nerves with each laboured intake of air. I am not the only one shifting frustrated in my seat. It grows louder, gurgling like he is drinking the dregs of a thickshake through the imperfect seal of his nostrils. I am reading, not sleeping, but feeling suddenly affronted, indignant that these constant assaults would prevent me from sleeping if that was my desire.
The border. After 1.25hrs sitting on a stationary bus, I am grateful to be able to stand in immigration queues. I don't understand a word of what anyone is saying - they speak so fast and with an accent I don't recognise - but they decide to let me back into Chile. Then, just as we settle into the familiar crevices of our seats, a further delay: we have to disembark, along with our luggage, for a quarantine check. It is 3:30am Santiago time. I discover that the snorer has kind eyes, a genial face.
Nearly 3hrs later, we are on the road again. Why CATA decided that 4am is prime time for biscuits and coffee, I will never know.
It is 7am when we arrive in Santiago. My eyes are clagged shut from 2hrs of demi-sleep. I wait for the luggage in a daze with others in a similar state an jolt awake only when my bag is lifted from the rubble. My clamped-shut legs somehow make it to a taxi. Drag them up. We are moving. I am asked questions; who would do this to me? I am in no state to talk. I feel words come out of my mouth in bubbles. The air is palpable, I am breathing solids. Is this real? I want to cry.
We are home in 5 minutes flat. The taxi driver is a madman and for once I am glad of the fact. I thank him in bad Spanish and fall out of the taxi, into the apartment.
My thoughts are fixed on Aaron, shower, bed. In that order. And when I get all three, in that order, I want to cry for a different reason. Instead, I sleep.
Day 29: Friday, 29/02/2008. I awake after 12pm with a fat and sugar hangover from 2 days of empanadas and media lunas. I am numb with tired bones. My face is not my own. I slap it to revive my senses. I dress, emerge, am greeted by a bouncy face. Smile. That's better. I surprise myself by chatting.
Aurora is working at the university; Luke leaves to find us sustenance. He buys traditional Chilean fare from down the road, a place where he eats 2-3 times a week. The woman is excited to see him after 2 weeks of absence. Lunch is superb and, at 4,300 Ch pesos (less than $US10) for both meals, it is perfect.
I need exercise. Again I wander into the main shopping area of Providencia. This time I notice very different features. The roads here are also tile-paved. Why didn't I see this before? Men on bicycles with huge baskets for fruit & veg delivery threaten peatones (pedestrians) on walkways with erratic steering. I am the only white and only blonde today. The Chilean women are half my height.
I turn right down Av. Providencia, then right down the entrance to two underground malls: Galeria Poniente, to the right again, is dedicated to gaming and manga; Galeria Las Palmas is more of a traditional arcade. I re-emerge on the main road, searching, but for what?
Across the road, I find Edificio Dos. Double helix of miniature stores selling cheap clothes, accessories, trinkets in endless spirals. Smells alternate between too-sweet incense, little girls' play perfume, latrine. The predominant fashion is a cross between goth, skank and jilted prom queen. I am fascinated by the idea of book cafe in a clothes shop but I don't stop for it. This is not my sort of arcade, yet I can not tear myself away without inspecting all floors.
I head home, feeling that I have walked away with something big but I am unsure of exactly what.
Day 30: Saturday, 1/03/2008. I write my blog. This post. Maybe we will go to the markets, maybe not. Maybe to a museum, maybe not. I am ambivalent. I see a strong potential to do nothing today.
Aurora is onto me. She is concerned that I am not getting the whole Chilean experience, although it could just be that she wants us to water her plants (another experiment) in Chiloe :-p It's a 12-hour bus trip south. She tells me that these buses are built for comfort, with seats that fold out to full beds. I am almost convinced.
Aurora & Luke buy lunch as I write. They return with spinach & ricotta tortellini, empanadas, various eclairs, from a local shop that makes everything fresh each day. Over lunch, a heated discussion about how possible it would be for guerillas to survive on beetle larvae in the jungle. This certainly is an interesting place.
Thank you to Katie B, Eloise, Pauline, Donald, Geoff & Sylvia, and my mum & dad for reading and for your comments.
Day 26: Tuesday, 26/02/2008. Day of recovery. Wake up late. Breakfast on mote, yoghurt & fruit. Doctor's appointment: antibiotics twice a day for a week.
Day 27: Wednesday, 27/02/2008. Mendoza Day 1. We wake up late, again [I realise later that this is a Luke trademark; Aurora does not seem surprised]. Run for a taxi, run for the bus, reach it with no minutes to spare. 8:40am departure.
The scenery changes as soon as the bus leaves Santiago. Shrubs on flats give way to hills that unfurl into mountains, just when you think there was nothing left to see. Colours merge into others by the minute, from green to grey to blue and red. The mountains are cold and irregular. Craggy old men.
Further on, the railway that paces our progress is reclaimed by the mountains. Fallen rocks, boulders, landslides obscure all or part of the line in places; in other parts, the rail hangs over weathered crevices like a suspension bridge. This rail used to travel over the Andes.
Countless switchbacks as we traverse over the mountains. More than the 27 I was prepared for. The path disappears in ribbons behind us.
Entering Argentina, I have a slight headache then realise why: we are at 3,500m. Still in the safe zone [I'm meant to avoid 3,658m+. How did doctors arrive at the figure?]. The fresh steak sandwich at the border is a godsend [great idea, Luke!]. We eat on the bus. So hungry. I can't stomach the 3-day old Turbus-provided cheese sandwich. Listeria City. No problems getting into Argentina. This does not bode well for the return journey.
Condors overhead as we continue. I manage a few pictures. None capture their size or magnificence. They are dwarfed by the mountains. Horses on the mountainside look like specks; I can only tell what they are when I zoom in on a photo. I am in awe of the natural skyscrapers around us.
Then, suddenly, flat earth. An hour after that, vineyards that stretch for endless kilometres. It pains me that I can not try the wines. Mendoza is famous for its malbec. I see a chocolate factory and my heart feels light again. So shallow.
We arrive in Mendoza at around 3:30pm, to perfect weather. It is easy to see why Mendoza is known as the land of good sun and good wine.
The fun begins as we:
- Check in - at $US40 per night the Hostel Alamo is simple, central and ideal;
- Seek food. Almost everything is shut at this time of day. It reopens for dinner at around 7pm. Eventually, we settle on steak sandwiches at El Faro and pay 27 Argentinian pesos (about $US9) for each of our meals. My hot chocolate was average, but the sandwich hit the spot. They love their meat in Mendoza;
- Shop. It seems that everyone is embarazada in Mendoza. There are four maternity shops in the city (compared to one in Santiago). We stumble across all four within a one-block radius. I buy three tops from Maa Maternity for 184 pesos ($US60);
- Visit some of the plazas. Green parks are all around the city. Locals and tourists gather together, children play, lovers eat each others faces;
- Look at the art. Museo de Arte Moderno is underneath the Plaza Indepencia. I am impressed with Andres Casciani's Daliesque style; Victor Gallardo's sometime manga-like creations on A4 pages intertwine humanity with animals, with technology; I am less understanding of the tiles by various artists. I find child-like images unsettling when they are drawn by adults.
I am getting very good at on-the-spot currency conversions.
Dinner is @ 10:30pm, at an Italo-Argentinian restaurant that is not fabulous. They say they are known for their seafood; we end up with heavy pasta dishes and spend around 30 pesos each. I can not contemplate filling my ice-cream stomach as planned.
While shopping, my handbag breaks. The strap wants to try its luck in the world on its own. Luke looks looks at me like I have done this on purpose, concedes we will need to go shopping for a handbag tomorrow [I am sure it relieves Luke that Aurora is into ecology rather than shopping]. I spotted a fabulous-looking candidate that afternoon: Prune.
First impressions. Cosmopolitan, outdoors culture. Fabulous shops. Malls are similar to Perth, with more eclectic selections. Dirtier than Santiago but more endearing. Pathways are tiled rather than paved; they are uneven and miss chunks at inconvenient intervals. Watch your feet. Bins are on stilts to prevent access by rats and dogs. The place is buzzing, even at this hour. I feel safe and comfortable.
Day 28: Thursday, 28/02/2008. Mendoza Day 2. Breakfast is at El Mercado Central, where I learned to ask for a bag (balsa) and table (messa). We eat a very croissant-like media luna from Cafe del Marcado plus a baked empanada from the fishmonger (Pescaderia). It is a party-sized super-fresh pastie, with mince, onion, herbs and hard-boiled egg. Flaky pastry = delicious = high fat.
Empanadas are sold all over Mendoza. I determine to put aside any figure concerns for the sake of two important causes: comparative empanada de carne and media luna battles.
Empanada #2, also from El Mercado Central, comes from a place that sells pizzas and family-sized empanadas. This one encloses half an olive and tastes much richer. The pastry appeals less; it is not so flaky. I preferred #1.
We leave El Mercado Central and find the contemporary art museum closed :-( I am a little sad about this and realise there is only one thing for it: handbag shopping!
After reviewing a little traditional place that specialises in carpincho leather [the carpincho is an animal native to Argentina that looks kind of like a beaver, bred for leather and meat], we end up at Prune. I am in love with this shop. A Ferrari red handbag replaces my staid black one for 298 pesos ($US100). I am ecstatic.
Empanada #3 comes from Don Claudio. It is nice, not overly exciting, different pastry texture yet again. The addition of spring onion gives it a higher rating than #2. Needing something sweet to wash it down, and far from more media lunas, we head to Ferruccio Soppelsa. Argentinian icrecream. Mmm...
Time to go. Flag down a taxi after wandering through half the city with no luck. Arrive at the bus terminal just in time to be exactly an hour late. We missed the bus. I am chief timekeeper, by virtue of my wristwatch, and I didn't realise we had changed timezones. I am gutted. We book another bus - the next one is at 11pm. Total cost of journey with double payment of one leg = $US60. Still a bargain.
Despondent, I seek solace in a media luna from the bus terminal bakery.
The upside to this twist of fate: we now have time to search for humming birds and leaf-cutting ants. Off to Parque San Martin. On the way around the lake: an instant coffee posing as a cappuccino, papas fritas and a man with purple hands. He is the artist attached to the purple (painted) man, who appears some minutes later.
We hear the humming birds before we see them. There are at least two varieties here. They move so quickly and, just as one comes close, another chases it away. I have never seen anything like it. I take many photos, not all of them containing obvious specimens. I will compile a "Where's Wally?" styled montage for the humming birds when I put my album together.
Across the road: leaf-cutting ants. They are incredible, lifting such huge weights with their tiny frames. Luke tries to goad them into cutting a giant leaf into fragments; some survey the engineering feat required while most walk around, over, underneath it. [Aurora tells me that, when you are in the bush, you can hear the clicking sound of the ants in a bush before you know they are there. Return the next day and you find it devoid of leaves.]
Next media luna adventure: Via Civit. A pastry filled with dulce de leche and I do not realise it is the size of a Hungry Jack´s Whopper until it's in front of me. Laughter as everyone around me knows I won't get through it. Absolutely delicious. I had to take half away with me after enjoying too much of the creamy sweetness [And I ate the rest after my big walk yesterday (29/02). It was fabulous!].
I am not a fan of McDonald's in general but I have to admire the fact that they really cater for local audiences. In Paris, there was the Royal Cheese; in Santiago, a chicken burger with avocado; in Mendoza, McD's sells empanadas with a creole chicken burger and red wine in a meal deal! The main restaurant advertisements feature a corkscrew and grapes.
Empanada #4 is at Estancia La Florencia, as a complimentary entree to dinner. It reminds me of empanada #1, without the egg or flaky pastry. For 31 pesos, my chivita cazadora (baby goat stew) [Aurora's recommendation; yes, Katie B, this is capretto] is tender and flavoursome. The service is excellent.
Final scores for the baked empanada de carne battle:
| # | From | $ArP | Rating/5 |
| 1. | Pescaderia, Mercado Central | 1.5 | 4.5 |
| 2. | Pizza place, Mercado Central | 2 | 3 |
| 3. | Don Claudio | 1.5 | 3.5 |
| 4. | Estancia La Florencia | - | 4 |
Recommendation: #1, for its mild flavour and flaky pastry, although I still have a certain fondness for Huentelauquen's fried empanada con queso...
For the media lunas, there is no such debate. The ridiculously enormous glazed pastry injected with dulce de leche from Via Civit wins hands down. My hot tip: don't eat beforehand [Dulce de leche is the condensed-milk caramel known as alfajor in Chile. I have the recipe in my hot little hands!].
Then it is time to run for a taxi. Again. We arrive well within time this time.
There is a snorer across the aisle. He starts up almost as soon as we leave Mendoza. Hairy behemoth of a man, black as the dark outside, rasping my nerves with each laboured intake of air. I am not the only one shifting frustrated in my seat. It grows louder, gurgling like he is drinking the dregs of a thickshake through the imperfect seal of his nostrils. I am reading, not sleeping, but feeling suddenly affronted, indignant that these constant assaults would prevent me from sleeping if that was my desire.
The border. After 1.25hrs sitting on a stationary bus, I am grateful to be able to stand in immigration queues. I don't understand a word of what anyone is saying - they speak so fast and with an accent I don't recognise - but they decide to let me back into Chile. Then, just as we settle into the familiar crevices of our seats, a further delay: we have to disembark, along with our luggage, for a quarantine check. It is 3:30am Santiago time. I discover that the snorer has kind eyes, a genial face.
Nearly 3hrs later, we are on the road again. Why CATA decided that 4am is prime time for biscuits and coffee, I will never know.
It is 7am when we arrive in Santiago. My eyes are clagged shut from 2hrs of demi-sleep. I wait for the luggage in a daze with others in a similar state an jolt awake only when my bag is lifted from the rubble. My clamped-shut legs somehow make it to a taxi. Drag them up. We are moving. I am asked questions; who would do this to me? I am in no state to talk. I feel words come out of my mouth in bubbles. The air is palpable, I am breathing solids. Is this real? I want to cry.
We are home in 5 minutes flat. The taxi driver is a madman and for once I am glad of the fact. I thank him in bad Spanish and fall out of the taxi, into the apartment.
My thoughts are fixed on Aaron, shower, bed. In that order. And when I get all three, in that order, I want to cry for a different reason. Instead, I sleep.
Day 29: Friday, 29/02/2008. I awake after 12pm with a fat and sugar hangover from 2 days of empanadas and media lunas. I am numb with tired bones. My face is not my own. I slap it to revive my senses. I dress, emerge, am greeted by a bouncy face. Smile. That's better. I surprise myself by chatting.
Aurora is working at the university; Luke leaves to find us sustenance. He buys traditional Chilean fare from down the road, a place where he eats 2-3 times a week. The woman is excited to see him after 2 weeks of absence. Lunch is superb and, at 4,300 Ch pesos (less than $US10) for both meals, it is perfect.
I need exercise. Again I wander into the main shopping area of Providencia. This time I notice very different features. The roads here are also tile-paved. Why didn't I see this before? Men on bicycles with huge baskets for fruit & veg delivery threaten peatones (pedestrians) on walkways with erratic steering. I am the only white and only blonde today. The Chilean women are half my height.
I turn right down Av. Providencia, then right down the entrance to two underground malls: Galeria Poniente, to the right again, is dedicated to gaming and manga; Galeria Las Palmas is more of a traditional arcade. I re-emerge on the main road, searching, but for what?
Across the road, I find Edificio Dos. Double helix of miniature stores selling cheap clothes, accessories, trinkets in endless spirals. Smells alternate between too-sweet incense, little girls' play perfume, latrine. The predominant fashion is a cross between goth, skank and jilted prom queen. I am fascinated by the idea of book cafe in a clothes shop but I don't stop for it. This is not my sort of arcade, yet I can not tear myself away without inspecting all floors.
I head home, feeling that I have walked away with something big but I am unsure of exactly what.
Day 30: Saturday, 1/03/2008. I write my blog. This post. Maybe we will go to the markets, maybe not. Maybe to a museum, maybe not. I am ambivalent. I see a strong potential to do nothing today.
Aurora is onto me. She is concerned that I am not getting the whole Chilean experience, although it could just be that she wants us to water her plants (another experiment) in Chiloe :-p It's a 12-hour bus trip south. She tells me that these buses are built for comfort, with seats that fold out to full beds. I am almost convinced.
Aurora & Luke buy lunch as I write. They return with spinach & ricotta tortellini, empanadas, various eclairs, from a local shop that makes everything fresh each day. Over lunch, a heated discussion about how possible it would be for guerillas to survive on beetle larvae in the jungle. This certainly is an interesting place.
The road that goes forever
[Title courtesy of Luke, who drove to Tongoy]
Day 22: Friday, 22 February 2008. I stayed in bed until almost 12pm, under instructions from Aurora & Luke. I was so sick. When I finally rose, we ate a breakfast of mote and two fruits I had not heard of before - pepino, related to tomatoes, eggplant & potatoes, and tuna (said 'toona'; it´s cactus fruit). They were so refreshing!
During a trip to the shops, I played an unexpected game of charades while attempting to describe cough lozenges to a Spanish-speaking pharmacist...
Aurora cooked a traditional Mexican chicken & rice meal for lunch. Fabulous food. We all overate. Luke says Aurora's home cooking was the first thing to get him hooked :-)
Staying with Luke & Aurora is a guilty pleasure for me. They are both super-smart PhDs (physics & ecology) who constantly posit new global theories, and they have friends who are equally intelligent in different areas. I am learning to ask questions again, which is exciting, and at the same time I feel very small.
The night ended with a DVD at Juan's house so that we could also visit the cat who thinks he's a dog, and we had much icecream and chocolate. The rest of the night was spent discussing word origins/relationships, with Luke and Aurora googling and me consulting Bill Bryson's Mother Tongue.
Day 23: Saturday, 23 February 2008. Feeling worse :-(
We were packed and sitting on our hands at home but, as soon as Aurora got the call, we leapt to our feet for the drive north to check on Aurora's latest experiment (in the Parque Nacional Fray Jorge). 'The call' related to accommodation availability. Apparently the rangers don't like you sleeping in the park.
We stopped off at Parque Arauco (that I called Ripley before on the way so I could buy the pair of hiking pants that I couldn't find days before. Here I learned how to buy clothes in Spanish and I purchased a pair of 3/4 pants.
[BTW, I described Ripley as a department store chain in a previous post. It is and it isn't. My basic observation is that the department stores here can also be their own shopping centres, like smaller versions of Centro or Westfield in Perth. For example, I walked into a Paris shopping centre in Providencia today (29/02). Very confusing. The big Chilean department stores, such as Paris and Falabella, have strengthened in the face of takeover efforts and market pressures - even expanding into the finance sector. Intriguingly, there is a Banco Ripley, Banco Falabella and Banco Paris, all linked directly to the top three dept store chains. Well, it was interesting news to me...]
In Paris, I learned that the big stores import Argentinian girls for promotional work because they are considered to be prettier than Chilean girls. True story. I noticed that the ads in shopping centres use predominantly women, and white women at that, because they are considered to be more beautiful.
I discovered another love: media lunas, which we bought to eat on the way. They were so delicious, esp. the creme de pastal. My hosts told me that these were nothing compared to the ones in Argentina...
The journey. I learned so much. Like the fact that cacti grow predominantly on north-facing slopes. And avocadoes are known as "black gold" in Chile, and grow in huge mountain-side plantations that catch run-off. And cacti are used as living fences. And the billboards heading north are focused on products rather than scantily-clad white women.
I felt like an excited kid as we drove through tunnels cut into the hillsides.
The tolls on the Pan Americana are regular and expensive. After the 4th tollgate, we came across firefighters with donation buckets. Even though it is considered prestigious work, the firefighters in Chile are voluntary. We donated some pesos.
1.5-2hrs out of Santiago, we came across women violently flailing sticks with white tassels: they were selling traditional sweets. Luke said they were not fabulous but they were an experience. I said I would pass.
Just past them, we had our first glimpse of water and the air smelled of the sea. Carrion circled overhead.
We stopped at Huentalauquen for a local specialty. No, not guinea pig (and that's more of a Peruvian thing) - empanadas fritas. I had two of these 600 Ch peso lumps of queso folded into pastry; they were like deep-fried cheese sandwiches. The cascading cheese was pale, almost white, and had a cheddar texture with a slightly sour taste. I enjoyed every fatty bite. We washed down the fat with fresh papaya juice. These papayas are special: they must be cooked before being consumed, else the juice breaks down the skin in and around your mouth. Friendly fruit.
We drove further north to the strains of traditional Cuban music.
At nightfall, and very near to our destination, we noticed women waving whole butterflied goat carcasses on stakes at passing motorists. I wondered how long the meat had been exposed to sun and flies during this hot day. I had been warned about the potential for this macabre sight which is more common after dry summers, when it is harder to maintain goat flocks.
We arrived in Tongoy just after 9pm (over 5hrs of driving), checked into Villa Patricia where we were greeted like old friends [Aurora spends 3-5 days there each month and knows the owners well] and set off to Cafe Bahia for dinner by the beach. We all ordered seafood main courses, as Tongoy is renowned for its seafood.
My seafood selection in broth arrived, I tasted it, I couldn't stomach it. The strong fishy smell hit the back of my throat and I almost gagged on impact. I passed my bowl around the table for second and third opinions. Luke thought it was dodgy, and it was enough to turn him off his meal; Aurora saw nothing wrong with it.
Aurora ate her meal, fished out the good stuff from mine, and made an attempt to eat Luke's seafood pancake. I ate bread, butter and chilli. With the empanadas still weighing on my stomach, I was satisfied with this simple meal.
Day 24: Sunday, 24 February 2008. Still sick. I couldn't believe it. Each night I went to sleep thinking that I would be all better the next day.
Our day started with a visit from the landlord. He warned us not to eat the seafood as it was making many visitors sick with a gastro-like bug. He handed us some herbs for a curative tea. Aurora wasn't really fazed by the news; I was glad that I had baulked at my last meal.
Walking around town, I was reminded of those lonely desert towns you find in American movies, with lots of red dust and secrets. There were small markets and shops dotted all over. To get good produce, we had to visit just about every place but we soon gathered up an excellent selection, including local olive oil. As well as the predictable bread, butter, cheese, tomato and avocado, we ate humitas - seasonal corn cakes that are seasoned and cooked in the corn husks. I wasn't overly impressed with them on their own, but they made an excellent spread.
The Parque Nacional Fray Jorge was about an hour out of Tongoy, and half of that was on bumpy limestone tracks. At first glance, it was dry, with cacti and scrub at the bottom of massive hills. Yet streaks of healthy forest lined the hills [there is debate as to whether this is tiger formation or fluid dynamics] and there was a temperate forest fragment at one of the peaks. This is where we were headed, to check on one of Aurora's colleague's experiments.
I became a trainee ecologist for the day, spotting a wild fox and a colourful nameless bird, and I heard a woodpecker. The trek to the forest wasn't too taxing, but it involved walking through dry and thorny scrub that cut across the narrow and sometimes steep path [as Luke said often in reference to the previous occupants of the forest, "Imagine having to eke out a living in this!"]. About an hour into the walk and very scratched bottoms of legs, Luke handed me his spare jumpers. I have some very amusing photos of me wearing a borrowed hat and jumpers tied to my legs.
Stepping into the forest fragment was like finding buried treasure; it was amazing. There was a canopy of trees and vines above us, wizened trees and fallen logs covered in moss, soft groundcover. Like the streaks of forest leading up the hill, this fragment received its moisture entirely from fog. The chamber had its own climate. We donned warmer clothes (well, except for Luke) and enjoyed the scenery for a few minutes before heading back.
I noticed the lack of insects around us and Luke & Aurora assured me that there were no snakes or spiders. I walked through several spiderwebs in the forest; I was then told there were no poisonous spiders in the park. We almost ran over a small and presumably poisonous snake on the road back to Tongoy; they had no response to that.
Day 25: Monday, 25 February 2008. After breakfast [and, yes, I was still feeling like death], we visited the beach down the road from Villa Patricia. The area was littered with what looked like huge chunks of obsidian or volcanic glass, only there was no volcano to explain it. It turns out that a copper smelt used to operate on the coast and we were surrounded by melted sand. The only clue to this was the slight green tinge to some of the black glass boulders.
Before anything else, we needed fresh provisions and it was my task to forage. Being a small town, the shopkeepers were not English-speakers, and I appreciated the importance of that little word tiene ("do you have..."). The bread and water posed no problem; I had a fun time trying to describe salt. Finally, I realised the problem was in my pronunciation ('sult' worked for me) and we were off.
We headed back to Fray Jorge, this time to check on Aurora's experiment which was in marked plots at the foot of the hill we explored yesterday. I wore jeans, so there was no need for a repeat performance from my makeshift gators.
Even though we were in the scrub, there was still so much to observe. There were animal prints all over the ground we walked on. I noticed one of the really nasty bushes branched its spikes out in star patterns, like a crown-of-thorns starfish. I was surprised to see lichen growing on trees in such a dry place. If you stood really quietly, you could hear birds twitter, small animals heave, the crackle of dry twigs. This inhospitable place was truly alive.
The places I visited were closed off to everyday visitors to the park. I felt privileged to be taken into realms ordinarily reserved for researchers and the occasional guanako (something like a llama).
We ate dinner near Pichidangui and, when we reached Santiago, it was nearly midnight. I was so glad to see my bed.
Day 22: Friday, 22 February 2008. I stayed in bed until almost 12pm, under instructions from Aurora & Luke. I was so sick. When I finally rose, we ate a breakfast of mote and two fruits I had not heard of before - pepino, related to tomatoes, eggplant & potatoes, and tuna (said 'toona'; it´s cactus fruit). They were so refreshing!
During a trip to the shops, I played an unexpected game of charades while attempting to describe cough lozenges to a Spanish-speaking pharmacist...
Aurora cooked a traditional Mexican chicken & rice meal for lunch. Fabulous food. We all overate. Luke says Aurora's home cooking was the first thing to get him hooked :-)
Staying with Luke & Aurora is a guilty pleasure for me. They are both super-smart PhDs (physics & ecology) who constantly posit new global theories, and they have friends who are equally intelligent in different areas. I am learning to ask questions again, which is exciting, and at the same time I feel very small.
The night ended with a DVD at Juan's house so that we could also visit the cat who thinks he's a dog, and we had much icecream and chocolate. The rest of the night was spent discussing word origins/relationships, with Luke and Aurora googling and me consulting Bill Bryson's Mother Tongue.
Day 23: Saturday, 23 February 2008. Feeling worse :-(
We were packed and sitting on our hands at home but, as soon as Aurora got the call, we leapt to our feet for the drive north to check on Aurora's latest experiment (in the Parque Nacional Fray Jorge). 'The call' related to accommodation availability. Apparently the rangers don't like you sleeping in the park.
We stopped off at Parque Arauco (that I called Ripley before on the way so I could buy the pair of hiking pants that I couldn't find days before. Here I learned how to buy clothes in Spanish and I purchased a pair of 3/4 pants.
[BTW, I described Ripley as a department store chain in a previous post. It is and it isn't. My basic observation is that the department stores here can also be their own shopping centres, like smaller versions of Centro or Westfield in Perth. For example, I walked into a Paris shopping centre in Providencia today (29/02). Very confusing. The big Chilean department stores, such as Paris and Falabella, have strengthened in the face of takeover efforts and market pressures - even expanding into the finance sector. Intriguingly, there is a Banco Ripley, Banco Falabella and Banco Paris, all linked directly to the top three dept store chains. Well, it was interesting news to me...]
In Paris, I learned that the big stores import Argentinian girls for promotional work because they are considered to be prettier than Chilean girls. True story. I noticed that the ads in shopping centres use predominantly women, and white women at that, because they are considered to be more beautiful.
I discovered another love: media lunas, which we bought to eat on the way. They were so delicious, esp. the creme de pastal. My hosts told me that these were nothing compared to the ones in Argentina...
The journey. I learned so much. Like the fact that cacti grow predominantly on north-facing slopes. And avocadoes are known as "black gold" in Chile, and grow in huge mountain-side plantations that catch run-off. And cacti are used as living fences. And the billboards heading north are focused on products rather than scantily-clad white women.
I felt like an excited kid as we drove through tunnels cut into the hillsides.
The tolls on the Pan Americana are regular and expensive. After the 4th tollgate, we came across firefighters with donation buckets. Even though it is considered prestigious work, the firefighters in Chile are voluntary. We donated some pesos.
1.5-2hrs out of Santiago, we came across women violently flailing sticks with white tassels: they were selling traditional sweets. Luke said they were not fabulous but they were an experience. I said I would pass.
Just past them, we had our first glimpse of water and the air smelled of the sea. Carrion circled overhead.
We stopped at Huentalauquen for a local specialty. No, not guinea pig (and that's more of a Peruvian thing) - empanadas fritas. I had two of these 600 Ch peso lumps of queso folded into pastry; they were like deep-fried cheese sandwiches. The cascading cheese was pale, almost white, and had a cheddar texture with a slightly sour taste. I enjoyed every fatty bite. We washed down the fat with fresh papaya juice. These papayas are special: they must be cooked before being consumed, else the juice breaks down the skin in and around your mouth. Friendly fruit.
We drove further north to the strains of traditional Cuban music.
At nightfall, and very near to our destination, we noticed women waving whole butterflied goat carcasses on stakes at passing motorists. I wondered how long the meat had been exposed to sun and flies during this hot day. I had been warned about the potential for this macabre sight which is more common after dry summers, when it is harder to maintain goat flocks.
We arrived in Tongoy just after 9pm (over 5hrs of driving), checked into Villa Patricia where we were greeted like old friends [Aurora spends 3-5 days there each month and knows the owners well] and set off to Cafe Bahia for dinner by the beach. We all ordered seafood main courses, as Tongoy is renowned for its seafood.
My seafood selection in broth arrived, I tasted it, I couldn't stomach it. The strong fishy smell hit the back of my throat and I almost gagged on impact. I passed my bowl around the table for second and third opinions. Luke thought it was dodgy, and it was enough to turn him off his meal; Aurora saw nothing wrong with it.
Aurora ate her meal, fished out the good stuff from mine, and made an attempt to eat Luke's seafood pancake. I ate bread, butter and chilli. With the empanadas still weighing on my stomach, I was satisfied with this simple meal.
Day 24: Sunday, 24 February 2008. Still sick. I couldn't believe it. Each night I went to sleep thinking that I would be all better the next day.
Our day started with a visit from the landlord. He warned us not to eat the seafood as it was making many visitors sick with a gastro-like bug. He handed us some herbs for a curative tea. Aurora wasn't really fazed by the news; I was glad that I had baulked at my last meal.
Walking around town, I was reminded of those lonely desert towns you find in American movies, with lots of red dust and secrets. There were small markets and shops dotted all over. To get good produce, we had to visit just about every place but we soon gathered up an excellent selection, including local olive oil. As well as the predictable bread, butter, cheese, tomato and avocado, we ate humitas - seasonal corn cakes that are seasoned and cooked in the corn husks. I wasn't overly impressed with them on their own, but they made an excellent spread.
The Parque Nacional Fray Jorge was about an hour out of Tongoy, and half of that was on bumpy limestone tracks. At first glance, it was dry, with cacti and scrub at the bottom of massive hills. Yet streaks of healthy forest lined the hills [there is debate as to whether this is tiger formation or fluid dynamics] and there was a temperate forest fragment at one of the peaks. This is where we were headed, to check on one of Aurora's colleague's experiments.
I became a trainee ecologist for the day, spotting a wild fox and a colourful nameless bird, and I heard a woodpecker. The trek to the forest wasn't too taxing, but it involved walking through dry and thorny scrub that cut across the narrow and sometimes steep path [as Luke said often in reference to the previous occupants of the forest, "Imagine having to eke out a living in this!"]. About an hour into the walk and very scratched bottoms of legs, Luke handed me his spare jumpers. I have some very amusing photos of me wearing a borrowed hat and jumpers tied to my legs.
Stepping into the forest fragment was like finding buried treasure; it was amazing. There was a canopy of trees and vines above us, wizened trees and fallen logs covered in moss, soft groundcover. Like the streaks of forest leading up the hill, this fragment received its moisture entirely from fog. The chamber had its own climate. We donned warmer clothes (well, except for Luke) and enjoyed the scenery for a few minutes before heading back.
I noticed the lack of insects around us and Luke & Aurora assured me that there were no snakes or spiders. I walked through several spiderwebs in the forest; I was then told there were no poisonous spiders in the park. We almost ran over a small and presumably poisonous snake on the road back to Tongoy; they had no response to that.
Day 25: Monday, 25 February 2008. After breakfast [and, yes, I was still feeling like death], we visited the beach down the road from Villa Patricia. The area was littered with what looked like huge chunks of obsidian or volcanic glass, only there was no volcano to explain it. It turns out that a copper smelt used to operate on the coast and we were surrounded by melted sand. The only clue to this was the slight green tinge to some of the black glass boulders.
Before anything else, we needed fresh provisions and it was my task to forage. Being a small town, the shopkeepers were not English-speakers, and I appreciated the importance of that little word tiene ("do you have..."). The bread and water posed no problem; I had a fun time trying to describe salt. Finally, I realised the problem was in my pronunciation ('sult' worked for me) and we were off.
We headed back to Fray Jorge, this time to check on Aurora's experiment which was in marked plots at the foot of the hill we explored yesterday. I wore jeans, so there was no need for a repeat performance from my makeshift gators.
Even though we were in the scrub, there was still so much to observe. There were animal prints all over the ground we walked on. I noticed one of the really nasty bushes branched its spikes out in star patterns, like a crown-of-thorns starfish. I was surprised to see lichen growing on trees in such a dry place. If you stood really quietly, you could hear birds twitter, small animals heave, the crackle of dry twigs. This inhospitable place was truly alive.
The places I visited were closed off to everyday visitors to the park. I felt privileged to be taken into realms ordinarily reserved for researchers and the occasional guanako (something like a llama).
We ate dinner near Pichidangui and, when we reached Santiago, it was nearly midnight. I was so glad to see my bed.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Valparaiso: a trip to the sea
First, an apology. I am doing so much that I am falling way behind in my posts. I will eventually catch up...hopefully before I get back to Perth! A big thank you to all of you who are reading and commenting. Please don't forget to tell me what you want to see.
Day 20: Wednesday 20 February 2008. I woke up feeling dreadful. My head was killing me and I was supertired after coughing and sneezing all night. Still, I looked forward to my next adventure in the port city of Valparaiso.
First, we had to wait for Marcia, Aurora's friend, to finish her meetings in Santiago as we were staying in Marcia's family unit in Valparaiso. Marcia is the grand-daughter of former Chilean leader Salvador Allende. Aurora and Marcia have been friends for many years and met in Mexico [I believe this was while Allende's family were in exile after his death - Aurora will correct me on this, I am sure].
When we arrived at Marcia's house to pick her up, Aurora gave me a brief tour of the bottom floor that was both a shrine and a museum. I was humbled. I did not expect a visit to a friend to be a voyage through modern history.
On the drive to Valparaiso, it seemed that Chilean drivers could be as crazy as Parisians! Drivers are meant to overtake on the left and move to the right to let people through.
Something else I found interesting about the roads was the tolls, which you have to pay one every newish road in Chile. All infrastructure, including roads, has been privately-built & owned from Pinochet's time in power. In fact, thanks to his water-tight constitutional changes, the Chilean Government can not invest in its own infrastructure. To encourage foreign investment, Pinochet also implemented lax tax laws, which now renders the Government unable to collect tax from multinationals that have set up major Chilean projects and employ cheap local labour (BHP Billiton is a case in point here). It sounds awfully like Western exploitation to me - except that it's not limited to the West. Even China have started to get in on the action. [Luke tells me that Chinese language schools are growing in popularity in South America, particularly throughout Brazil.]
The journey through the hills was beautiful and very different. Suggestive billboards greeted us on both sides [this carried through to the port city itself. There were also no men in the billboard ads!], and native palm trees sprouted awkwardly between shrubs and araucaria (pine-tree relatives, also native). The sky clouded over as we headed into Valparaiso, heralding the cooler weather by the sea, but they soon cleared into a wonderful day.
Marcia's unit was modest and fashionably decorated. The interior was very Mexican and Aurora noted that most items had been brought across from Mexico. A photograph of friends and political allies Neruda and Allende took pride of place in the entry way. We brought two boxes of Marcia's books from Santiago for display at the unit: these were mostly gifts to the Allendes, many of them from presidents and other dignitaries.
Valparaiso is not a clean city. Aside from watching out for cracks in the pavement, we were constantly on the lookout for animal waste. Stray dogs and cats roam the streets and shops, surprisingly passing each other without incident. [For me, that disproved the age-old belief that cats and dogs are natural enemies.]
As we wandered the streets in search of lunch, we passed a number of impressive murals and creative graffiti and I realised that we had stumbled onto the Museo a Cielo Abierto which spans most of the city. Adding to the flamboyance was the fact that most of the houses were block-coloured brightly in rainbow shades and everything in between. I was excited to find a number of pink houses. [Apparently the Chilean Government subsidises house paint purchases and actively encourages the bright colours!]
Aurora and Marcia came out with some Chilean metaphors and similes that I found amusing. For example, if you are attracted to someone, then they "smell as good as fresh bread" and if you "look as fresh as lettuce", then you have woken up looking pretty darned good.
Our 4pm lunch at the Gato Tuerto ("the one-eyed cat") was reasonably priced and the service was great. Despite the kitsch decor (plastic placemats) and small servings, it was well worth the visit for the 270-degree view.
We continued our route through the open-air gallery, where we:
Valparaiso is pure magic at night. The lights flicker like candles at a large-scale shrine to the sea.
It was after 11pm when we arrived at the pizza place - after 1am by the time we arrived back at the unit. Here I tasted palmitos for the first time and ate pizza sprinkled liberally with smoked chilli powder. I was sated.
The highlight of the night was the lunar eclipse that started with Marcia's tour. By the time our pizzas arrived, the moon was fully covered by the earth´s shadow. I can't remember ever having seen a full lunar eclipse before then.
Day 21: Thursday 21 February 2008. Still feeling like death warmed up, Luke and I set off to forage for breakfast provisions. The strays from the day before now travelled together in car-chasing packs. It was funny to watch, not so funny for the drivers with their snapped-at wheels. Here, the dogs have real character; they wait for the people to start moving before they cross a road, sleep in the middle of a footpath, wander in and out of shops.
Breakfast was simple: bananas, avocado, tomato, cheese, fresh bread. The fresh fruit and vegetables in Chile have so much flavour.
While Marcia waited for friends of her mother's to arrive, Aurora, Luke and I headed to Pablo Neruda's house, La Sebastiana. As we walked, we continued to find more murals, graffiti, colours. The cloudy day made the colours more vivid. I was so excited to be able to see this city evolve in different lights and times of day.
A joint Neruda-Picasso exhibition, hosted between the house and cafe, marked the time that the two men had spent together creatively. I started to realise the connections between places in my journey thus far.
Entry to the house itself was 2,500 Chilean pesos. The house was only part-owned by Neruda, who was able to convince some of his friends to buy into the dwelling. There are mozaics inside and out of the house, on walls and floors; in polygons of tile, stone, mirror. Wood features. Contrasting textures, patterns. Stained glass windows. This is a house of many colours.
Aurora pointed out that the high emotion of Neruda's love poems were based more on control ('you are changed because I love you') than acceptance ('I love you because of who you are'). He seemed suddenly egocentric to me, the way he embraced the lustful blindness of love, his ability to transform others. He was also incredibly eccentric.
Only Neruda was ever allowed behind his bar. Adorning the house are gifts, pieces purchased at auction, rescued and restored items. There is a convex mirror in the bathroom by the bar. In the living room, Neruda placed a portrait of a young man wearing a ruff opposite a portrait of the Queen of Spain, also in a ruff, "so the Queen would not be lonely." Neruda's love of the sea is apparent in the numerous porthole windows, the study that sounded like a storm at sea on windy nights.
I didn't realise just how deeply-rooted Neruda's involvement in politics stemmed before seeing this house; he saw politics and poetry as being inextricably intertwined. I wondered also if he was a religious person [and I haven't yet looked into this]; he placed contrasting religious symbols side by side.
In case you couldn't tell, I really liked La Sebastiana.
Marcia, her mother's three friends (political journalists) and their driver ended up at La Sebastiana at the same time as us. I discovered the true true collectivist nature of Latin Americans as we all set off to find a restaurant together. Eventually, we happened upon a seafood place that really loved its oil. I could barely touch a thing but the view over the port was amazing. I thought it was very sweet of the journalists to buy us lunch; we undertook to pay for dessert. [I then found out that it is customary for the oldest member of the group to pay for meals, after some cursory banter.]
Another funicular ride later, and we were off to find a suitable cafe.
Again, Cafe Turri had a fabulous view but was otherwise nothing to write home about [and, yet, here I am doing exactly that!]. We met Marcia's mum, the Socialist Deputy, who greeted us very graciously and joined our party for tea.
I saw a couple of firsts at Cafe Turri: my first Chilean flies (you just don't see insects!], and my first bumblebees! I could not believe the size of these bees.
'The kids' picked up the 28,000 Ch peso tab, which I think was altogether too much for too-small desserts (my celestial pancakes would not have satisfied a grasshopper) and average service. It was on its way to 8pm by the time we left the cafe.
More quirks of Valaparaiso:
Day 20: Wednesday 20 February 2008. I woke up feeling dreadful. My head was killing me and I was supertired after coughing and sneezing all night. Still, I looked forward to my next adventure in the port city of Valparaiso.
First, we had to wait for Marcia, Aurora's friend, to finish her meetings in Santiago as we were staying in Marcia's family unit in Valparaiso. Marcia is the grand-daughter of former Chilean leader Salvador Allende. Aurora and Marcia have been friends for many years and met in Mexico [I believe this was while Allende's family were in exile after his death - Aurora will correct me on this, I am sure].
When we arrived at Marcia's house to pick her up, Aurora gave me a brief tour of the bottom floor that was both a shrine and a museum. I was humbled. I did not expect a visit to a friend to be a voyage through modern history.
On the drive to Valparaiso, it seemed that Chilean drivers could be as crazy as Parisians! Drivers are meant to overtake on the left and move to the right to let people through.
Something else I found interesting about the roads was the tolls, which you have to pay one every newish road in Chile. All infrastructure, including roads, has been privately-built & owned from Pinochet's time in power. In fact, thanks to his water-tight constitutional changes, the Chilean Government can not invest in its own infrastructure. To encourage foreign investment, Pinochet also implemented lax tax laws, which now renders the Government unable to collect tax from multinationals that have set up major Chilean projects and employ cheap local labour (BHP Billiton is a case in point here). It sounds awfully like Western exploitation to me - except that it's not limited to the West. Even China have started to get in on the action. [Luke tells me that Chinese language schools are growing in popularity in South America, particularly throughout Brazil.]
The journey through the hills was beautiful and very different. Suggestive billboards greeted us on both sides [this carried through to the port city itself. There were also no men in the billboard ads!], and native palm trees sprouted awkwardly between shrubs and araucaria (pine-tree relatives, also native). The sky clouded over as we headed into Valparaiso, heralding the cooler weather by the sea, but they soon cleared into a wonderful day.
Marcia's unit was modest and fashionably decorated. The interior was very Mexican and Aurora noted that most items had been brought across from Mexico. A photograph of friends and political allies Neruda and Allende took pride of place in the entry way. We brought two boxes of Marcia's books from Santiago for display at the unit: these were mostly gifts to the Allendes, many of them from presidents and other dignitaries.
Valparaiso is not a clean city. Aside from watching out for cracks in the pavement, we were constantly on the lookout for animal waste. Stray dogs and cats roam the streets and shops, surprisingly passing each other without incident. [For me, that disproved the age-old belief that cats and dogs are natural enemies.]
As we wandered the streets in search of lunch, we passed a number of impressive murals and creative graffiti and I realised that we had stumbled onto the Museo a Cielo Abierto which spans most of the city. Adding to the flamboyance was the fact that most of the houses were block-coloured brightly in rainbow shades and everything in between. I was excited to find a number of pink houses. [Apparently the Chilean Government subsidises house paint purchases and actively encourages the bright colours!]
Aurora and Marcia came out with some Chilean metaphors and similes that I found amusing. For example, if you are attracted to someone, then they "smell as good as fresh bread" and if you "look as fresh as lettuce", then you have woken up looking pretty darned good.
Our 4pm lunch at the Gato Tuerto ("the one-eyed cat") was reasonably priced and the service was great. Despite the kitsch decor (plastic placemats) and small servings, it was well worth the visit for the 270-degree view.
We continued our route through the open-air gallery, where we:
- Took a funicular (on an angle of 48-degrees!) down one of the hills. That was fun - many of these near-vertical trains are 100+ years old;
- Walked past the Casa Mirador de Lukas, a memorial to Renzo Pecchenino ("Lukas"), the Chilean cartoonist and satirist.
Valparaiso is pure magic at night. The lights flicker like candles at a large-scale shrine to the sea.
It was after 11pm when we arrived at the pizza place - after 1am by the time we arrived back at the unit. Here I tasted palmitos for the first time and ate pizza sprinkled liberally with smoked chilli powder. I was sated.
The highlight of the night was the lunar eclipse that started with Marcia's tour. By the time our pizzas arrived, the moon was fully covered by the earth´s shadow. I can't remember ever having seen a full lunar eclipse before then.
Day 21: Thursday 21 February 2008. Still feeling like death warmed up, Luke and I set off to forage for breakfast provisions. The strays from the day before now travelled together in car-chasing packs. It was funny to watch, not so funny for the drivers with their snapped-at wheels. Here, the dogs have real character; they wait for the people to start moving before they cross a road, sleep in the middle of a footpath, wander in and out of shops.
Breakfast was simple: bananas, avocado, tomato, cheese, fresh bread. The fresh fruit and vegetables in Chile have so much flavour.
While Marcia waited for friends of her mother's to arrive, Aurora, Luke and I headed to Pablo Neruda's house, La Sebastiana. As we walked, we continued to find more murals, graffiti, colours. The cloudy day made the colours more vivid. I was so excited to be able to see this city evolve in different lights and times of day.
A joint Neruda-Picasso exhibition, hosted between the house and cafe, marked the time that the two men had spent together creatively. I started to realise the connections between places in my journey thus far.
Entry to the house itself was 2,500 Chilean pesos. The house was only part-owned by Neruda, who was able to convince some of his friends to buy into the dwelling. There are mozaics inside and out of the house, on walls and floors; in polygons of tile, stone, mirror. Wood features. Contrasting textures, patterns. Stained glass windows. This is a house of many colours.
Aurora pointed out that the high emotion of Neruda's love poems were based more on control ('you are changed because I love you') than acceptance ('I love you because of who you are'). He seemed suddenly egocentric to me, the way he embraced the lustful blindness of love, his ability to transform others. He was also incredibly eccentric.
Only Neruda was ever allowed behind his bar. Adorning the house are gifts, pieces purchased at auction, rescued and restored items. There is a convex mirror in the bathroom by the bar. In the living room, Neruda placed a portrait of a young man wearing a ruff opposite a portrait of the Queen of Spain, also in a ruff, "so the Queen would not be lonely." Neruda's love of the sea is apparent in the numerous porthole windows, the study that sounded like a storm at sea on windy nights.
I didn't realise just how deeply-rooted Neruda's involvement in politics stemmed before seeing this house; he saw politics and poetry as being inextricably intertwined. I wondered also if he was a religious person [and I haven't yet looked into this]; he placed contrasting religious symbols side by side.
In case you couldn't tell, I really liked La Sebastiana.
Marcia, her mother's three friends (political journalists) and their driver ended up at La Sebastiana at the same time as us. I discovered the true true collectivist nature of Latin Americans as we all set off to find a restaurant together. Eventually, we happened upon a seafood place that really loved its oil. I could barely touch a thing but the view over the port was amazing. I thought it was very sweet of the journalists to buy us lunch; we undertook to pay for dessert. [I then found out that it is customary for the oldest member of the group to pay for meals, after some cursory banter.]
Another funicular ride later, and we were off to find a suitable cafe.
Again, Cafe Turri had a fabulous view but was otherwise nothing to write home about [and, yet, here I am doing exactly that!]. We met Marcia's mum, the Socialist Deputy, who greeted us very graciously and joined our party for tea.
I saw a couple of firsts at Cafe Turri: my first Chilean flies (you just don't see insects!], and my first bumblebees! I could not believe the size of these bees.
'The kids' picked up the 28,000 Ch peso tab, which I think was altogether too much for too-small desserts (my celestial pancakes would not have satisfied a grasshopper) and average service. It was on its way to 8pm by the time we left the cafe.
More quirks of Valaparaiso:
- criss-crossed power lines. It's worse than Paris;
- the coloured houses built precariously into and over the hills, on less-than-vertical stilts;
- the cobbled streets. They are everywhere;
- the winding roads with super-tight corners;
- the decimal point instead of a comma and comma instead of a decimal point (eg. 1,000.00 is written 1.000,00). I was weirded out by this; and
- The strange yet oddly interesting busker who walks a collection of wire-based animals around a ring of spectators.
Friday, February 22, 2008
The start of my Chilean adventure!
The rest of Day 18: Monday 18 February 2008 was not nearly as eventful as the preceding 30+ hours. Luke and Aurora took me shopping for hiking pants [sorry, Aurora, I mean 'trousers'!] to no avail, but I did get to explore Ripley, an excellent department store that has a chain in Chile.
Alas, I didn't find hiking trousers, however my hosts did introduce me to Havanna, with its fabulous biscuits, chocolate and condensed-milk caramel. [Note that this link takes you through to a page on A Nice Cup of Tea and a Sit Down, a site that I believe Neale, Chris, Lila or Nerida discovered some years back. I was a little too excited by this!]
I discovered a couple of interesting facts during this shopping expedition:
Day 19: Tuesday 19 February 2008. The weather was beautiful - sunny and 31. Breakfast was popped kiwicha and mote (a grain historically eaten by peasants) with fruit & yoghurt; for lunch we had fresh salmon and corvina (aka 'white seabass') with quinoa and fresh vegetables. Yum! [Plus, my luggage arrived between breakfast and lunch. Yay!]
The fresh produce was awesome. Before lunch, Luke and I explored the extensive vegetable & fish markets at La Vega & Mercado Central, which were not that far from Providencia (where Luke & Aurora live). The hot-food vendors at Mercado Central pushed their wares forcefully and I learned to use the phrase "No, la pesca fresca" very quickly. I was thankful for my cold: from the look of others walking past the fish stalls, I could tell that some of the smells were not pleasant.
I also had my first coffee for a couple of days and, at around $AU2 (900 pesos) from Cafe Expresso, it was great. My guidebook told me that there was no good coffee in Chile. Apparently, this place had opened recently so I was not about to doubt my information just yet.
Although we aimed for sunset, we reached Cerro San Cristobal just after. The 22m-tall statue of the Virgin Mary dominates the city as she looks over it. Standing at her feet, I found the panorama of Santiago's surrounding hills and main arteries to be incredible. Perth just doesn't have hills like that - for me, they were mountains! The tiered gardens and religious choral music set the ambience perfectly for me as the sky transitioned through sunset hues to dark blue. It was spectacular to witness the moon appearing over another of Santiago's hills. I was awestruck.
On our way back to Luke & Aurora's, I met Chilelo, the cat who thinks he is a dog. Chilelo belongs to Juan, Aurora's supervisor at the University. Juan is in Australia at the moment and Aurora has been given babysitting duties. Lucky her!
Our meals were so late that I could only manage a light dinner - honeydew melon and avocado on Vegemite toast. [Even though Aurora is Mexican, she is as addicted to Vegemite as much as Luke. The day she 'invented' the Vegemite/avocado combination, Luke was so proud!]
By the time I got to bed, I had razorblades in my throat. The long-haul flights and changes in climate had started to take their toll in the form of a really bad cold...
Alas, I didn't find hiking trousers, however my hosts did introduce me to Havanna, with its fabulous biscuits, chocolate and condensed-milk caramel. [Note that this link takes you through to a page on A Nice Cup of Tea and a Sit Down, a site that I believe Neale, Chris, Lila or Nerida discovered some years back. I was a little too excited by this!]
I discovered a couple of interesting facts during this shopping expedition:
- Guinea pig is a Peruvian delicacy that is sometimes served in Chile. I won't be trying it. Like chicken, it has a lucky bone but, rather than the wishbone, it's one of the earbones. Luke couldn't tell me if it was the hammer, anvil or stirrup - I will find out!
- 'Embarazada' means 'pregnant' in Chile and, predictably, has the same root as their term for 'embarrassed'. If you the actual word for pregnant (somthing like 'preganento'), it's an insult. You would use this term for cows or dogs. [Well, I thought it was interesting!]
Day 19: Tuesday 19 February 2008. The weather was beautiful - sunny and 31. Breakfast was popped kiwicha and mote (a grain historically eaten by peasants) with fruit & yoghurt; for lunch we had fresh salmon and corvina (aka 'white seabass') with quinoa and fresh vegetables. Yum! [Plus, my luggage arrived between breakfast and lunch. Yay!]
The fresh produce was awesome. Before lunch, Luke and I explored the extensive vegetable & fish markets at La Vega & Mercado Central, which were not that far from Providencia (where Luke & Aurora live). The hot-food vendors at Mercado Central pushed their wares forcefully and I learned to use the phrase "No, la pesca fresca" very quickly. I was thankful for my cold: from the look of others walking past the fish stalls, I could tell that some of the smells were not pleasant.
I also had my first coffee for a couple of days and, at around $AU2 (900 pesos) from Cafe Expresso, it was great. My guidebook told me that there was no good coffee in Chile. Apparently, this place had opened recently so I was not about to doubt my information just yet.
Although we aimed for sunset, we reached Cerro San Cristobal just after. The 22m-tall statue of the Virgin Mary dominates the city as she looks over it. Standing at her feet, I found the panorama of Santiago's surrounding hills and main arteries to be incredible. Perth just doesn't have hills like that - for me, they were mountains! The tiered gardens and religious choral music set the ambience perfectly for me as the sky transitioned through sunset hues to dark blue. It was spectacular to witness the moon appearing over another of Santiago's hills. I was awestruck.
On our way back to Luke & Aurora's, I met Chilelo, the cat who thinks he is a dog. Chilelo belongs to Juan, Aurora's supervisor at the University. Juan is in Australia at the moment and Aurora has been given babysitting duties. Lucky her!
Our meals were so late that I could only manage a light dinner - honeydew melon and avocado on Vegemite toast. [Even though Aurora is Mexican, she is as addicted to Vegemite as much as Luke. The day she 'invented' the Vegemite/avocado combination, Luke was so proud!]
By the time I got to bed, I had razorblades in my throat. The long-haul flights and changes in climate had started to take their toll in the form of a really bad cold...
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Sleepless in Sao Paulo
Or: "My Nightmare Near-deportation"
The planned route to Santiago: fly London-Sao Paulo, wait for 2hrs then fly to Asuncion (Paraguay), stay the night in Asuncion, fly Asuncion-Santiago after a refreshing nap. Land at Santiago just under 29hrs after beginning my journey.
The actual story summarised: diverted flight, missed connection, almost sent back to London, 3hrs sleep, forced to take the long way to Santiago, lost baggage. This is a long and whingey post.
Days 17 & 18: Sunday 17/02/2008 & Monday 18/02/2008. Hayley dropped me off at Heathrow and it appears it was third time lucky for me: no random body scan!
I did, however, lose my boarding pass on my way to the departure lounge. A nice British Airways person printed another copy for me, then disclosed the fact that the gate attendants never check the ticket against the passport "even though they should". Despite all the extra security measures, there are still obvious loopholes in the system.
Checking in was easy, though the BA person told me that I couldn´t check in all the way to Asuncion. I would have to disembark at Sao Paulo and check in again. This was opposite to my travel agent friend´s advice so I asked her if she could check this for me, which she did. My 1.75hrs between flights should have been just enough time to collect my luggage and check in again at the other end...
My flight began comfortably (I had two spare seats next to me) but it wasn´t destined to end that way. About half way through the flight, it became obvious that the 11.5hr London-Sao Paulo flight that my itinerary promised was actually 12hrs and growing. With just 1hr between my connecting flights, I was getting anxious.
Things went from worse to worst-case when the captain informed passengers that heavy thunderstorms were preventing us from landing in Sao Paulo: we had just enough fuel to make it to Rio de Janeiro. Our flight attendant told us that travel insurance would cover our interconnecting flights and we would most likely receive hotel and meal vouchers for our troubles.
There were two things wrong with this picture for me:
My worst fears were realised when we landed in Sao Paulo just after midnight. I had missed my connecting flight and had been on a plane for almost 15.5hrs. It was 3am London time.
I can not sleep on planes. It´s a disability. I managed a couple of half-hour naps around take-off and landing (when I am most relaxed), but no substantial sleep. I had about 3hrs sleep the night before and I arrived in Sao Paulo on edge. I was exhausted, hungry, thirsty and very much alone.
My first challenge, after registering as a displaced person with BA (and I was the only person on the plane travelling to Santiago via Asuncion), was determining the language. I listened to conversations as I moved up the queue and it seemed that they spoke a mix of Portuguese, Spanish and French. Darn multilingual airport staff! I wished that I had done some contingency reading on Brazil.
The people in front of me had British passports and needed no entry visa. When I reached the front of the passport queue, I was told that I needed a visa just to enter the airport, let alone stay in the country. With meal and hotel vouchers being given for places outside of the airport, I feared that I would be spending the night (ie. getting zero sleep) in the departure lounge. Two federal police questioned me about why I was heading to Asuncion then discussed my fate in indecipherable whispers. I felt like screaming, "I am four months pregnant. Give me food and a bed", but I didn´t. I still haven´t used that card.
Hannah´s Brazil Travel Tip #1: Even if you´re just passing through, get a Brazilian visa.
Hannah´s Brazil Travel Tip #2: There is a hotel within Sao Paulo´s departure lounge. It is great for small sleeps and you don´t need to pre-book.
A useful airport person who spoke English fairly well, wasn´t hell-bent on sending me back to London (as the police wanted) and finally understood that I didn´t want to enter the country told me about the Fast Sleep Hotel. I would only pay for the hours I slept and would have to pay up front but I could then make a claim back from BA. He would sort out a breakfast voucher and connecting flight for me.
He also tried to book my replacement flight straight through to Santiago [the Asuncion stay was only booked to avoid the Brazilian visa, which turned out to be unavoidable]. My ticket, however, detailed specific destinations and I had to go via Asuncion. Though unable to give me a more convenient flight, he assured me that he had personally collected my luggage and checked it all the way to Santiago for me.
Hannah´s General Travel Tip #1: Make sure that your ticket is flexible enough to enable you to schedule replacement flights that are outside of original plans.
It was 2:30am by the time I got to bed; I was up 3hrs later, surprisingly refreshed.
My 9:00am flight to Santiago via Asuncion turned out to be the 8:00am flight to Santiago via Asuncion via Cuidad del Este. Very fortunately, I checked in with Tam Mercosur early [I wanted time to eat breakfast...] and I was the second-last person to board the bus to the plane.
From the ground, Sao Paulo looked like an industrialised suburb of Perth. It wasn´t until we were in the air that I appreciated the expanse of the city with its verrugated landscape and candy-coloured houses.
The hum of the Fokker 100´s engine was musical and familiar. It reminded me of the soundtrack to the Dali exhibition; droning bass overlaid with dissonant treble.
Half an hour into the flight, I discovered that my vegan vegetarian meal preference was not communicated to all flights as QANTAS had promised. The set meal promised listeriosis and I sipped gratefully on my orange juice. Minutes later, Maria Johnson´s fruit platter materialised in front of me and it was very good.
Only 5.5hrs left before I could enjoy a proper meal - which meant 5.5hrs for me to learn basic Spanish from my guidebook and the in-flight duty-free magazine. I was ordering drinks in Spanish before the end of the flight.
Two unexpected bonuses: (1) flying over snow-capped peaks just before reaching Santiago; and (2) landing 25mins early!
I entered Santiago with four different currencies - euros, pounds, $Sing, $US - and only just not enough $US to pay the unexpected $US56 entry fee to Chile. I had to exchange all other currency for Chilean pesos then buy the extra $US, then re-queue. All this before reaching immigration and baggage claim.
Hannah´s General Travel Tip #2: Always have a destination to list on your immigration forms. If you don´t know the address, list a hotel from a guidebook.
My recent good fortune meant that I was due for a balancing bout of bad, which I got when my luggage didn´t show. I went to the Tam Mercosur counter next to baggage claim and lodged a report, as they could not tell me where my luggage was. The attendant didn´t understand that my mobile phone was actually with me and operational in Chile, even though I physically showed her my phone, as I listed it as an international contact number. So she left two numbers for me to call her on when I could give a local number.
I met up with Luke an hour after disembarking and spent the next 1+ hrs trying to find Tam Mercosur´s main office [the two numbers I had been given rang out]. After being assured that my luggage would arrive "tomorrow", despite no further information [and I suspect it was sitting in Sao Paulo], it arrived later that day - only we were shopping well away from the house. All I could do was laugh. And shop. And eat Havanna chocolate bombs. Mmm...Havanna.
I now have my borrowed suitcase returned and my first 1.5 days in Santiago have been 31 degrees and fabulous. Valparaiso tomorrow. More to come.
The planned route to Santiago: fly London-Sao Paulo, wait for 2hrs then fly to Asuncion (Paraguay), stay the night in Asuncion, fly Asuncion-Santiago after a refreshing nap. Land at Santiago just under 29hrs after beginning my journey.
The actual story summarised: diverted flight, missed connection, almost sent back to London, 3hrs sleep, forced to take the long way to Santiago, lost baggage. This is a long and whingey post.
Days 17 & 18: Sunday 17/02/2008 & Monday 18/02/2008. Hayley dropped me off at Heathrow and it appears it was third time lucky for me: no random body scan!
I did, however, lose my boarding pass on my way to the departure lounge. A nice British Airways person printed another copy for me, then disclosed the fact that the gate attendants never check the ticket against the passport "even though they should". Despite all the extra security measures, there are still obvious loopholes in the system.
Checking in was easy, though the BA person told me that I couldn´t check in all the way to Asuncion. I would have to disembark at Sao Paulo and check in again. This was opposite to my travel agent friend´s advice so I asked her if she could check this for me, which she did. My 1.75hrs between flights should have been just enough time to collect my luggage and check in again at the other end...
My flight began comfortably (I had two spare seats next to me) but it wasn´t destined to end that way. About half way through the flight, it became obvious that the 11.5hr London-Sao Paulo flight that my itinerary promised was actually 12hrs and growing. With just 1hr between my connecting flights, I was getting anxious.
Things went from worse to worst-case when the captain informed passengers that heavy thunderstorms were preventing us from landing in Sao Paulo: we had just enough fuel to make it to Rio de Janeiro. Our flight attendant told us that travel insurance would cover our interconnecting flights and we would most likely receive hotel and meal vouchers for our troubles.
There were two things wrong with this picture for me:
- I would be by myself in either Rio or Sao Paulo late at night. All I could think of was the flavillas and Katie B´s South American experience. Embarrassingly, I didn´t know exactly what language was spoken in either city. I had done no research on Brazil; and
- I did not have a Brazilian visa. I had a Paraguayan visa, to cover my one night in Asuncion.
My worst fears were realised when we landed in Sao Paulo just after midnight. I had missed my connecting flight and had been on a plane for almost 15.5hrs. It was 3am London time.
I can not sleep on planes. It´s a disability. I managed a couple of half-hour naps around take-off and landing (when I am most relaxed), but no substantial sleep. I had about 3hrs sleep the night before and I arrived in Sao Paulo on edge. I was exhausted, hungry, thirsty and very much alone.
My first challenge, after registering as a displaced person with BA (and I was the only person on the plane travelling to Santiago via Asuncion), was determining the language. I listened to conversations as I moved up the queue and it seemed that they spoke a mix of Portuguese, Spanish and French. Darn multilingual airport staff! I wished that I had done some contingency reading on Brazil.
The people in front of me had British passports and needed no entry visa. When I reached the front of the passport queue, I was told that I needed a visa just to enter the airport, let alone stay in the country. With meal and hotel vouchers being given for places outside of the airport, I feared that I would be spending the night (ie. getting zero sleep) in the departure lounge. Two federal police questioned me about why I was heading to Asuncion then discussed my fate in indecipherable whispers. I felt like screaming, "I am four months pregnant. Give me food and a bed", but I didn´t. I still haven´t used that card.
A useful airport person who spoke English fairly well, wasn´t hell-bent on sending me back to London (as the police wanted) and finally understood that I didn´t want to enter the country told me about the Fast Sleep Hotel. I would only pay for the hours I slept and would have to pay up front but I could then make a claim back from BA. He would sort out a breakfast voucher and connecting flight for me.
He also tried to book my replacement flight straight through to Santiago [the Asuncion stay was only booked to avoid the Brazilian visa, which turned out to be unavoidable]. My ticket, however, detailed specific destinations and I had to go via Asuncion. Though unable to give me a more convenient flight, he assured me that he had personally collected my luggage and checked it all the way to Santiago for me.
It was 2:30am by the time I got to bed; I was up 3hrs later, surprisingly refreshed.
My 9:00am flight to Santiago via Asuncion turned out to be the 8:00am flight to Santiago via Asuncion via Cuidad del Este. Very fortunately, I checked in with Tam Mercosur early [I wanted time to eat breakfast...] and I was the second-last person to board the bus to the plane.
From the ground, Sao Paulo looked like an industrialised suburb of Perth. It wasn´t until we were in the air that I appreciated the expanse of the city with its verrugated landscape and candy-coloured houses.
The hum of the Fokker 100´s engine was musical and familiar. It reminded me of the soundtrack to the Dali exhibition; droning bass overlaid with dissonant treble.
Half an hour into the flight, I discovered that my vegan vegetarian meal preference was not communicated to all flights as QANTAS had promised. The set meal promised listeriosis and I sipped gratefully on my orange juice. Minutes later, Maria Johnson´s fruit platter materialised in front of me and it was very good.
Only 5.5hrs left before I could enjoy a proper meal - which meant 5.5hrs for me to learn basic Spanish from my guidebook and the in-flight duty-free magazine. I was ordering drinks in Spanish before the end of the flight.
Two unexpected bonuses: (1) flying over snow-capped peaks just before reaching Santiago; and (2) landing 25mins early!
I entered Santiago with four different currencies - euros, pounds, $Sing, $US - and only just not enough $US to pay the unexpected $US56 entry fee to Chile. I had to exchange all other currency for Chilean pesos then buy the extra $US, then re-queue. All this before reaching immigration and baggage claim.
My recent good fortune meant that I was due for a balancing bout of bad, which I got when my luggage didn´t show. I went to the Tam Mercosur counter next to baggage claim and lodged a report, as they could not tell me where my luggage was. The attendant didn´t understand that my mobile phone was actually with me and operational in Chile, even though I physically showed her my phone, as I listed it as an international contact number. So she left two numbers for me to call her on when I could give a local number.
I met up with Luke an hour after disembarking and spent the next 1+ hrs trying to find Tam Mercosur´s main office [the two numbers I had been given rang out]. After being assured that my luggage would arrive "tomorrow", despite no further information [and I suspect it was sitting in Sao Paulo], it arrived later that day - only we were shopping well away from the house. All I could do was laugh. And shop. And eat Havanna chocolate bombs. Mmm...Havanna.
I now have my borrowed suitcase returned and my first 1.5 days in Santiago have been 31 degrees and fabulous. Valparaiso tomorrow. More to come.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Things I didn´t do in London
There are many more things that I would do or see another time. This is a short list of ideas so I don´t forget:
- Eat high tea at a major hotel. This was on my agenda and dropped off when I was disappointed by the Ritz menu.
- Head outside of London for at least a day. I was meant to go to Brighton and didn´t.
- Find wombles in Wimbledon. Or at least look for them really, really hard.
- Take a cruise on the Thames. Thanks to Jelena for that idea.
- Photograph all of the locations on the Monopoly board. I got part-way there...
- Visit the National Gallery.
- Go to Sherlock Holmes house. 221b Baker Street. I was so close.
- Look for Paddington Bear in Paddington.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Last days
Four-day outlook:
Day 14 - lazy day, dinner with friends of Hayley & Shane;
Day 15 - Hammersmith, Baker Street, Madame Tussauds, Covent Garden;
Day 16 - Dr Johnson's house, shopping;
Day 17 - leaving London.
Thanks to Tamara and Jelena for commenting on my previous post!
Day 14: Thursday 14/02/2008. Happy Valentine's Day! I had a very lazy day at Hayley & Shane's apartment, followed by a relaxing dinner with them and their friends Julia and Simon.
Day 15: Friday 15/02/2008. This was my first day of London weather that lived up to its reputation. Sullen, grey, cold, unwelcoming.
The day started with a scheduled detour to Hammersmith for Hayley. Apparently, you register yourself to one doctor's surgery over here and you can't use any other. Hammersmith, a 40+ minute drive from Earlsfield, is near to where Hayley & Shane used to live. It's also close to Notting Hill but, with the day focused on Madame Tussauds, we were never going to make it that far.
After freezing my face off in the bitter cold wind, Hayley & I stumbled upon a Starbucks, where I firmly planted myself to await her return. Smooth jazz and hot chocolate in a warm cafe. Perfection.
What I noticed, sitting in that cafe, is that people stare. It's not like Central London where everyone is head down, all frown. The people here are inquisitive but it's searching, leech-like.
On Hayley's return, we caught the tube to Baker Street Station and I was almost immediately greeted by the bronzed figure of Sherlock Holmes. Hayley condescended to take a picture of me with Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's famous character; I couldn't quite convince her to journey to 221b.
A paparazzi attack on the red carpet marked the start of our visit to Madame Tussauds. Further down the red carpet, we were greeted by big name stars. Many of them were recognisable but didn't look quite right. Some of the more realistic likenesses included Nicole Kidman [I made Hayley take my picture with Nic], Samuel L. Jackson, Humphrey Bogart, Alfred Hitchcock and Kylie. I was going to try to pass of my pictures with Richard Branson and Nelson Mandela as the real deal...
We looked only at the serial killer section of the Chamber of Horrors - the screams put me off the live show. The whirlwind cab drive through London's history was good; the 'Wonderful World of Stars' IMAX-styled theatre show was not.
Over all, and I know I've said this a number of times before, I am glad I have seen but I wasn't dazzled by the display. I think I had built it up too high in my expectations over the years.
Hayley & I lunched at Souk, a Moroccan restaurant in Covent Garden that was incredibly delicious and authentic. At £20 each, it was worth every penny. If you happen to make it to Souk, please try the pita & hommous, the fresh mint tea (which isn't what you expect) and baklava.
Within the Seven Dials of Covent Garden, there is a fabulous little courtyard called 'Neal's Yard'. Hayley and I really enjoyed it there, with our £10 manicure, £9.75 10-minute massage and natural remedies store [I highly recommend the lip balm - at £5, it's pricy, but it's darn good].
We ate an ok dinner at Fuel. Our amazing lunch would have been hard to follow at any venue, however the onion soup was ordinary and beef-stocky; the pizza was too salty and lacking in other flavour. The garlic pizza was yummy but dry. On the bright side, alcoholic beverages seem to be reasonably priced. Shame I couldn't drink...
I finally fitted in my London cab ride - between Hammersmith and Shepherd's Bush, when we picked up Hayley's car at the end of the night. Then we headed home and to sleep. Yay :)
Day 16: Saturday 16/02/2008. Of course, I left it until absolute last minute to post clothes home so that's how I started my day [well, after breakfast, cleaning, washing]. I was super-shocked when the guy in Post Office told me that 2.5kg of fabric would cost me nearly £50 (+ packaging) - to send via surface mail. Apparently there is a 2kg limit for cheap postage of surface mail (6 weeks to delivery).
Hannah's London Tip #13: If you're going to post items home, send them in smaller packages of 2kg or less. It cost me just over £14 (+ packaging) in the end.
When I reached the overland, I was greeted by a group of giggling teenagers - who were celebrating a hen's day. That freaked me out a bit.
My big adventure for the day was finding Dr Samuel Johnson's house, which is not nearly as simple as the guidebooks would have you believe. Dr Johnson wrote the first universally-accepted English dictionary (Johnson's Dictionary) that went further than lists of synonyms. In fact, he included quotes as well as etymologies and some very amusing words and definitions. Examples: fopdoodle (meaning "idiot") and fribbler ("one who professes rapture for the woman, and dreads her consent"). I will try to use fopdoodle in a sentence each day this week.
Dr Johnson was a distinguished man of letters before he commenced the dictionary. I was also intrigued to find out that his best friend had a thing for prostitutes and constantly battled VD, while he may have had a touch of OCD.
In my explorations, I also discovered the meaning of 'amenuenses' - in reference to Dr Johnson's six helpers over the nine years it took to compile the dictionary [guessably, it means clerks or assistants]. I am still at a loss as to why a guidebook, designed for foreign visitors, would include such a broad and obscure vocabulary.
On leaving the house, and suffering from hunger and the biting chill in the air, I was tempted to eat in the inviting warmth of the nearby McDonald's - then I noticed the portliness of its patrons and talked myself out of it. I don't need to look nine months pregnant prematurely.
So I caught the train to Oxford Circus, where I came across a manic street preacher (literally) and sandwiched @ EAT (at the bottom of Top Shop, followed by a snail-shaped danish and a hot chocolate at the Apostrophe boulangerie & patisserie. The hot choc was more like a rich chocolate yogo than a drink; I had to eat it with a spoon! [Donald, I did find Abeno Too near Leicester Square - too late for lunch. I will make sure that Hayley & Shane have the details so that I can dine vicariously through them.]
I ended my day with a last look at the shops [when is Marks & Spencer coming to Perth?] and commenced the three-train journey home. This trip was mildly eventful, with mice playing together on the train tracks at Covent Garden Station, a twentysomething prat reunion next to the train at Leicester Square Station, and an impromptu choral performance (in harmony) on the escalators leading up to Waterloo. Seriously. And they were good!
Hayley took me out to dinner at a Fulham pub (in)aptly named The Temperance. The meal was hearty, seemed very English to me, and cost us less than £15 each. [Thanks for taking me out, Hayley!]
*
It's now 17/02, Day 17 of my trip, hours away from my next long-haul flight. Icky la la.
I will miss Hayley & Shane, who have looked after me so well over the last two-and-a-bit weeks. Though I am looking forward to my next big adventure in Chile, I'm getting increasingly homesick...
Thanks to Tamara and Jelena for commenting on my previous post!
Day 14: Thursday 14/02/2008. Happy Valentine's Day! I had a very lazy day at Hayley & Shane's apartment, followed by a relaxing dinner with them and their friends Julia and Simon.
Day 15: Friday 15/02/2008. This was my first day of London weather that lived up to its reputation. Sullen, grey, cold, unwelcoming.
The day started with a scheduled detour to Hammersmith for Hayley. Apparently, you register yourself to one doctor's surgery over here and you can't use any other. Hammersmith, a 40+ minute drive from Earlsfield, is near to where Hayley & Shane used to live. It's also close to Notting Hill but, with the day focused on Madame Tussauds, we were never going to make it that far.
After freezing my face off in the bitter cold wind, Hayley & I stumbled upon a Starbucks, where I firmly planted myself to await her return. Smooth jazz and hot chocolate in a warm cafe. Perfection.
What I noticed, sitting in that cafe, is that people stare. It's not like Central London where everyone is head down, all frown. The people here are inquisitive but it's searching, leech-like.
On Hayley's return, we caught the tube to Baker Street Station and I was almost immediately greeted by the bronzed figure of Sherlock Holmes. Hayley condescended to take a picture of me with Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's famous character; I couldn't quite convince her to journey to 221b.
A paparazzi attack on the red carpet marked the start of our visit to Madame Tussauds. Further down the red carpet, we were greeted by big name stars. Many of them were recognisable but didn't look quite right. Some of the more realistic likenesses included Nicole Kidman [I made Hayley take my picture with Nic], Samuel L. Jackson, Humphrey Bogart, Alfred Hitchcock and Kylie. I was going to try to pass of my pictures with Richard Branson and Nelson Mandela as the real deal...
We looked only at the serial killer section of the Chamber of Horrors - the screams put me off the live show. The whirlwind cab drive through London's history was good; the 'Wonderful World of Stars' IMAX-styled theatre show was not.
Over all, and I know I've said this a number of times before, I am glad I have seen but I wasn't dazzled by the display. I think I had built it up too high in my expectations over the years.
Hayley & I lunched at Souk, a Moroccan restaurant in Covent Garden that was incredibly delicious and authentic. At £20 each, it was worth every penny. If you happen to make it to Souk, please try the pita & hommous, the fresh mint tea (which isn't what you expect) and baklava.
Within the Seven Dials of Covent Garden, there is a fabulous little courtyard called 'Neal's Yard'. Hayley and I really enjoyed it there, with our £10 manicure, £9.75 10-minute massage and natural remedies store [I highly recommend the lip balm - at £5, it's pricy, but it's darn good].
We ate an ok dinner at Fuel. Our amazing lunch would have been hard to follow at any venue, however the onion soup was ordinary and beef-stocky; the pizza was too salty and lacking in other flavour. The garlic pizza was yummy but dry. On the bright side, alcoholic beverages seem to be reasonably priced. Shame I couldn't drink...
I finally fitted in my London cab ride - between Hammersmith and Shepherd's Bush, when we picked up Hayley's car at the end of the night. Then we headed home and to sleep. Yay :)
Day 16: Saturday 16/02/2008. Of course, I left it until absolute last minute to post clothes home so that's how I started my day [well, after breakfast, cleaning, washing]. I was super-shocked when the guy in Post Office told me that 2.5kg of fabric would cost me nearly £50 (+ packaging) - to send via surface mail. Apparently there is a 2kg limit for cheap postage of surface mail (6 weeks to delivery).
When I reached the overland, I was greeted by a group of giggling teenagers - who were celebrating a hen's day. That freaked me out a bit.
My big adventure for the day was finding Dr Samuel Johnson's house, which is not nearly as simple as the guidebooks would have you believe. Dr Johnson wrote the first universally-accepted English dictionary (Johnson's Dictionary) that went further than lists of synonyms. In fact, he included quotes as well as etymologies and some very amusing words and definitions. Examples: fopdoodle (meaning "idiot") and fribbler ("one who professes rapture for the woman, and dreads her consent"). I will try to use fopdoodle in a sentence each day this week.
Dr Johnson was a distinguished man of letters before he commenced the dictionary. I was also intrigued to find out that his best friend had a thing for prostitutes and constantly battled VD, while he may have had a touch of OCD.
In my explorations, I also discovered the meaning of 'amenuenses' - in reference to Dr Johnson's six helpers over the nine years it took to compile the dictionary [guessably, it means clerks or assistants]. I am still at a loss as to why a guidebook, designed for foreign visitors, would include such a broad and obscure vocabulary.
On leaving the house, and suffering from hunger and the biting chill in the air, I was tempted to eat in the inviting warmth of the nearby McDonald's - then I noticed the portliness of its patrons and talked myself out of it. I don't need to look nine months pregnant prematurely.
So I caught the train to Oxford Circus, where I came across a manic street preacher (literally) and sandwiched @ EAT (at the bottom of Top Shop, followed by a snail-shaped danish and a hot chocolate at the Apostrophe boulangerie & patisserie. The hot choc was more like a rich chocolate yogo than a drink; I had to eat it with a spoon! [Donald, I did find Abeno Too near Leicester Square - too late for lunch. I will make sure that Hayley & Shane have the details so that I can dine vicariously through them.]
I ended my day with a last look at the shops [when is Marks & Spencer coming to Perth?] and commenced the three-train journey home. This trip was mildly eventful, with mice playing together on the train tracks at Covent Garden Station, a twentysomething prat reunion next to the train at Leicester Square Station, and an impromptu choral performance (in harmony) on the escalators leading up to Waterloo. Seriously. And they were good!
Hayley took me out to dinner at a Fulham pub (in)aptly named The Temperance. The meal was hearty, seemed very English to me, and cost us less than £15 each. [Thanks for taking me out, Hayley!]
*
It's now 17/02, Day 17 of my trip, hours away from my next long-haul flight. Icky la la.
I will miss Hayley & Shane, who have looked after me so well over the last two-and-a-bit weeks. Though I am looking forward to my next big adventure in Chile, I'm getting increasingly homesick...
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Back in London - days 11-13
The quick three-day preview FYI:
Day 11 - Buckingham Palace, Green Park, shopping;
Day 12 - Harrod's, pedicure, dinner at the Algarve;
Day 13 - Dali Universe @ County Hall, London Aquarium, big night in.
Day 11: Monday 11/02/2008. We carried the Parisian weather with us. Sunny and 13. How fabulous! I started the day with changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace, which took far too long. I could not believe the off-season crowds! Judging by the accents around me, I would say that this is the time of year when the locals come out to enjoy the tourist attractions.
I have to say, I felt a bit let down. I am glad I did it - to be able to say I did - but it really was not anything special. After an hour of standing, several photos, very sore feet and the persistent feeling that I was about to faint, I headed across the road to Green Park and the Princess Diana Memorial Walk. I was more interested in finding a park bench than doing the walk, which stretches across four parks, however I was excited to stumble across it.
It was in Green Park that I met up with Tom H (who will be known to Landgate readers) for lunch and shopping. It was great to catch up with a friendly face! We stopped by the Ritz on the way to the tube to find out about their high tea, which I was superkeen to try. We realised very quickly that we were not suitably attired and I could only eat half of what was on the menu. For £37, I decided to give it a miss. I'll still look into the Berkely, though. They have boot and handbag shaped cookies.
So we headed into town, which leads me to my next tip, courtesy of Tom.
Hannah's London Tip #11: Ignore Tip #8. Buy an Oyster card (that you can top up) for train travel. It magically works out the cheapest journey for you, depending on the # of uses, times of day, destinations. Better than a Day Travelcard.
The first thing we did was shop for shoes [the bones in my feet have shifted due to my lack of sensible shoes, I am sure], and I bought some flat boots from Dune within minutes of reaching Oxford St. Reduced from £65 to £45. Yay me! We had a yummy lunch at Bella Italia on Argyll St, then onto more shops.
After less than a day, Tom managed to pass on a longstanding addiction to me. No, not cigarettes. It's Thornton's toffee. I love the choc-coated vanilla fudge...
I also enjoyed my first-ever Starbucks coffee (hazelnut hot chocolate) and it was brilliant! Then it was time to find Tom's friend's birthday celebrations, using Shane's A-Z.
My evening was relaxing and home-cooked. A perfect finish to a lovely day.
Day 12: Tuesday 12/02/2008. I slept in until about 10:30 - my first sleep-in while I've been away - and watched bad TV as I ate a breakfast of Thornton's choc-coated vanilla fudge and Sainsbury's salt & vinegar twists (another recent addiction), all the while vowing to eat a healthy lunch.
It feels like every second show on London's free-to-air TV is Antiques Roadshow, The Very Best of Antiques Roadshow or Antiques Roadshow: a Retrospective. They really cling onto their old stuff here.
Everything about the day was delayed - from getting up, to buying a train ticket (the ticket office closed as soon as it was my turn to buy a ticket), to catching the train (delays on several lines, including the Jubilee). I just had to accept that nothing would be rushed today.
By the time I made it into Harrod's, I was starving. I tried to make a bee-line for the food hall, however I could not help but be sidetracked by pretty things. The cosmetics counters were impeccable, Harrod's Arcade was delightful, and the soft accessories were luxurious. I made mental notes of everything I needed and moved on to the food. [BTW, it was here that I discovered the £12 that the Heathrow shop wanted for a Harrod's green bag wasn't actually that steep - they are £14.95 at Harrod's!]
The fruit & vegetables, prepared meals and fresh pastries and sweets looked amazing. I found some very nice looking artichokes and decided that I had to cook some for Hayley & Shane before I head home.
It was upsetting to find a fantastic fromagerie. Ordinarily, such a find would have been a boon, with all the delicate soft cheeses and robust blues calling to me by name; instead, they were transformed into temptations to be avoided in my current condition. Despondent, I wandered into Harrod's Cafe Espresso.
The first thing that made me smile was the bag hooks under clean tabletops. My cappuccino was also fabulous (and so I should have been, for £3.80!). I was heartened by the fact that this and many other places around London are using exclusively fairtrade coffee. I read an interesting article in BA's in-flight business magazine about the economics and low additional cost (to industry) of supporting fairtrade coffee, yet there is generally a high cost passed onto the consumer. Very interesting.
I looked around as I awaited my melanzane di parmigiana [yes, again] and I tingled with a Christmas sensation, the promise of a gift unopened. I could have kicked myself for contemplating not going to Harrod's whilst in London.
I quickly corrected my 'merci beaucoup' into a 'thank you' as my meal arrived. Naturally, it was fabulous. I passed on my compliments to the kitchen via my waitress and found out that a bona fide Italian chef prepared my meal, which explained the simple, authentic flavours. Full of cheese and fully satisfied, I sipped on peppermint tea as I finished writing out my postcards. It was 3:30pm when I left the cafe, and I happily handed over the £23 (incl tip) for such a pleasing meal.
I realise, as I read through my travel notes, that my trip thus far has been marked by simple yet pleasurable gastronomic experiences. I haven't been able to drink alcohol or take any risks, yet I have really enjoyed my holiday - particularly because of the food. Even the basic £2.95 nachos at Debenhams were just right for the time.
I left the cafe with a resolve to book a tableau pour un at Gordon Ramsay's Maze restaurant before I leave, a meal sure to cost me between £40 and £60. I love my food. Up to that point, I was under budget [good project management!]. All that was about to change: I stumbled upon Harrod's jewellery section.
One Tiffany & Co necklace later, I was no longer looking at a Gordon Ramsay culinary experience. It's funny how one's priorities can turn on a dime like that. [I can hear you shaking your head. It's a congratulations present from me to me. And it will last a lifetime, unlike a meal. Truly.]
Hannah's London Tip #12: ATMs, or magical money walls, are called 'cashpoints' over here. I have managed to confuse more than one salesperson by asking for directions to the nearest ATM...
After sauntering around some more in Harrod's, wearing in my new necklace, I stopped, looked at my mobile phone (my watch didn't go with the outfit) and realised it was 5:28pm. I had a pedicure booked for 6pm. In Earlsfield. An hour away.
Rushing home with shopping bags in peak hour was not fun (three Jubilee line trains were too packed for additional passengers before I managed to squeeze on), but I made it to Glowz [yes, that does say much about the salon] for my pedicure. It was just what my feet needed - and have me just enough time to get home and change jackets in time for dinner with Kristian & Jasmina.
I have known Kristian since primary school, though we hadn't seen each other for years; Jasmina [I so hope my spelling is right!] is his lovely wife. We had ~17 years to catch up on and a lovely meal at the Algarve (Portuguese resturant in Wandsworth; I think there was one other occupied table...), but the piri-piri chicken couldn't compare to Nando's! Now I can order food in four languages and say thank you in six. I'm so proud of me :) [Thanks again, Kris and Jas.]
The weirdest thing happened at the end of the night: the Indian taxi driver accused me of having an American accent.
Day 13: Wednesday 13/02/2008. I started out at County Hall's Dali Universe, where I managed to catch three art exhibitions (Dali, Picasso, Azam) for the bargain basement price of £12.
With over 500 masterpieces, the Dali retrospective was impressive and extensive. I was surprised to discover the extent to which religion, mythology and metaphor influenced Dali's philosphy and work. It was for me a sensual, empowering display; his brand of surrealism involves an incredible artistry and attention to detail. He also collaborated with some big names in furniture and film (eg. Alfred Hitchcock for Spellbound).
I appreciated Dali's strong self-belief and view of how ideas can be formed and used. I was inspired by some of his philosophy, which I guess makes him a true artist ["An artist is not one who is inspired, but one who inspires others"], and disturbed by other aspects. He had a definite sadistic streak through his work that more often than not applied to sex.
In terms of the other two artists: the Picasso exhibition was smaller, understated and intriguing [I didn't know he created ceramics or designed tapestries!]; Azam's iridescent spaghetti did nothing for me, hence I didn't spend too long on the artist-in-residence's display. It was interesting to compare Dali and Picasso's representations of the female form side by side. Dali tended to preserve the roundness of natural curves and pervert them in such a way that you could tell what they had come from, while Picasso was more abstract, angular and disconnected. I don't know enough about art to know what that says about either or both of them.
Lunch at the London Aquarium's Cafe A was yummy and too pricy for what it was: £6.25 for a cheese & salad sandwich and chocolate donut. I really paid for the view - overlooking foot traffic travelling alongside the Thames.
As a tourist destination, the London Aquarium is abysmal - and, at £13.25, a waste of precious pounds. Well, maybe not such a waste, as I did contribute to preservation of our oceans with my ticket purchase.
I hurriedly sought out Zone 9 as soon as I entered, thinking I had made it just in time for shark feeding time, only to discover I was a day late/early. Very disappointing. Then I saw how small the sharks were and realised the feeding show would not have been too vigorous. I followed through with the obligatory tour but I remained unimpressed. The Aquarium seems to have been set up for schoolkids and Londoners who haven't really been anywhere. I forget how spoiled we are for aquatic life in Perth.
I spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around London, trying not to spend more money [I did discover a photo development place and transferred my photos from memory card to DVD - finally! But now they're too big to attach to my blog!].
While Shane was out for the evening, Hayley and I had a junky night in - Thai, chocolate, a tub of Ben & Jerry's icrecream each, back-to-back Scrubs and Friends episodes. It was great, and we both woke up with food hangovers :p
*
Today. Happy Valentine's Day! I hope you have something special planned. I am spending a lazy day at the apartment because it is 8-degrees and threatening rain and it is so cosy in here :)
Day 11: Monday 11/02/2008. We carried the Parisian weather with us. Sunny and 13. How fabulous! I started the day with changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace, which took far too long. I could not believe the off-season crowds! Judging by the accents around me, I would say that this is the time of year when the locals come out to enjoy the tourist attractions.
I have to say, I felt a bit let down. I am glad I did it - to be able to say I did - but it really was not anything special. After an hour of standing, several photos, very sore feet and the persistent feeling that I was about to faint, I headed across the road to Green Park and the Princess Diana Memorial Walk. I was more interested in finding a park bench than doing the walk, which stretches across four parks, however I was excited to stumble across it.
It was in Green Park that I met up with Tom H (who will be known to Landgate readers) for lunch and shopping. It was great to catch up with a friendly face! We stopped by the Ritz on the way to the tube to find out about their high tea, which I was superkeen to try. We realised very quickly that we were not suitably attired and I could only eat half of what was on the menu. For £37, I decided to give it a miss. I'll still look into the Berkely, though. They have boot and handbag shaped cookies.
So we headed into town, which leads me to my next tip, courtesy of Tom.
The first thing we did was shop for shoes [the bones in my feet have shifted due to my lack of sensible shoes, I am sure], and I bought some flat boots from Dune within minutes of reaching Oxford St. Reduced from £65 to £45. Yay me! We had a yummy lunch at Bella Italia on Argyll St, then onto more shops.
After less than a day, Tom managed to pass on a longstanding addiction to me. No, not cigarettes. It's Thornton's toffee. I love the choc-coated vanilla fudge...
I also enjoyed my first-ever Starbucks coffee (hazelnut hot chocolate) and it was brilliant! Then it was time to find Tom's friend's birthday celebrations, using Shane's A-Z.
My evening was relaxing and home-cooked. A perfect finish to a lovely day.
Day 12: Tuesday 12/02/2008. I slept in until about 10:30 - my first sleep-in while I've been away - and watched bad TV as I ate a breakfast of Thornton's choc-coated vanilla fudge and Sainsbury's salt & vinegar twists (another recent addiction), all the while vowing to eat a healthy lunch.
It feels like every second show on London's free-to-air TV is Antiques Roadshow, The Very Best of Antiques Roadshow or Antiques Roadshow: a Retrospective. They really cling onto their old stuff here.
Everything about the day was delayed - from getting up, to buying a train ticket (the ticket office closed as soon as it was my turn to buy a ticket), to catching the train (delays on several lines, including the Jubilee). I just had to accept that nothing would be rushed today.
By the time I made it into Harrod's, I was starving. I tried to make a bee-line for the food hall, however I could not help but be sidetracked by pretty things. The cosmetics counters were impeccable, Harrod's Arcade was delightful, and the soft accessories were luxurious. I made mental notes of everything I needed and moved on to the food. [BTW, it was here that I discovered the £12 that the Heathrow shop wanted for a Harrod's green bag wasn't actually that steep - they are £14.95 at Harrod's!]
The fruit & vegetables, prepared meals and fresh pastries and sweets looked amazing. I found some very nice looking artichokes and decided that I had to cook some for Hayley & Shane before I head home.
It was upsetting to find a fantastic fromagerie. Ordinarily, such a find would have been a boon, with all the delicate soft cheeses and robust blues calling to me by name; instead, they were transformed into temptations to be avoided in my current condition. Despondent, I wandered into Harrod's Cafe Espresso.
The first thing that made me smile was the bag hooks under clean tabletops. My cappuccino was also fabulous (and so I should have been, for £3.80!). I was heartened by the fact that this and many other places around London are using exclusively fairtrade coffee. I read an interesting article in BA's in-flight business magazine about the economics and low additional cost (to industry) of supporting fairtrade coffee, yet there is generally a high cost passed onto the consumer. Very interesting.
I looked around as I awaited my melanzane di parmigiana [yes, again] and I tingled with a Christmas sensation, the promise of a gift unopened. I could have kicked myself for contemplating not going to Harrod's whilst in London.
I quickly corrected my 'merci beaucoup' into a 'thank you' as my meal arrived. Naturally, it was fabulous. I passed on my compliments to the kitchen via my waitress and found out that a bona fide Italian chef prepared my meal, which explained the simple, authentic flavours. Full of cheese and fully satisfied, I sipped on peppermint tea as I finished writing out my postcards. It was 3:30pm when I left the cafe, and I happily handed over the £23 (incl tip) for such a pleasing meal.
I realise, as I read through my travel notes, that my trip thus far has been marked by simple yet pleasurable gastronomic experiences. I haven't been able to drink alcohol or take any risks, yet I have really enjoyed my holiday - particularly because of the food. Even the basic £2.95 nachos at Debenhams were just right for the time.
I left the cafe with a resolve to book a tableau pour un at Gordon Ramsay's Maze restaurant before I leave, a meal sure to cost me between £40 and £60. I love my food. Up to that point, I was under budget [good project management!]. All that was about to change: I stumbled upon Harrod's jewellery section.
One Tiffany & Co necklace later, I was no longer looking at a Gordon Ramsay culinary experience. It's funny how one's priorities can turn on a dime like that. [I can hear you shaking your head. It's a congratulations present from me to me. And it will last a lifetime, unlike a meal. Truly.]
After sauntering around some more in Harrod's, wearing in my new necklace, I stopped, looked at my mobile phone (my watch didn't go with the outfit) and realised it was 5:28pm. I had a pedicure booked for 6pm. In Earlsfield. An hour away.
Rushing home with shopping bags in peak hour was not fun (three Jubilee line trains were too packed for additional passengers before I managed to squeeze on), but I made it to Glowz [yes, that does say much about the salon] for my pedicure. It was just what my feet needed - and have me just enough time to get home and change jackets in time for dinner with Kristian & Jasmina.
I have known Kristian since primary school, though we hadn't seen each other for years; Jasmina [I so hope my spelling is right!] is his lovely wife. We had ~17 years to catch up on and a lovely meal at the Algarve (Portuguese resturant in Wandsworth; I think there was one other occupied table...), but the piri-piri chicken couldn't compare to Nando's! Now I can order food in four languages and say thank you in six. I'm so proud of me :) [Thanks again, Kris and Jas.]
The weirdest thing happened at the end of the night: the Indian taxi driver accused me of having an American accent.
Day 13: Wednesday 13/02/2008. I started out at County Hall's Dali Universe, where I managed to catch three art exhibitions (Dali, Picasso, Azam) for the bargain basement price of £12.
With over 500 masterpieces, the Dali retrospective was impressive and extensive. I was surprised to discover the extent to which religion, mythology and metaphor influenced Dali's philosphy and work. It was for me a sensual, empowering display; his brand of surrealism involves an incredible artistry and attention to detail. He also collaborated with some big names in furniture and film (eg. Alfred Hitchcock for Spellbound).
I appreciated Dali's strong self-belief and view of how ideas can be formed and used. I was inspired by some of his philosophy, which I guess makes him a true artist ["An artist is not one who is inspired, but one who inspires others"], and disturbed by other aspects. He had a definite sadistic streak through his work that more often than not applied to sex.
In terms of the other two artists: the Picasso exhibition was smaller, understated and intriguing [I didn't know he created ceramics or designed tapestries!]; Azam's iridescent spaghetti did nothing for me, hence I didn't spend too long on the artist-in-residence's display. It was interesting to compare Dali and Picasso's representations of the female form side by side. Dali tended to preserve the roundness of natural curves and pervert them in such a way that you could tell what they had come from, while Picasso was more abstract, angular and disconnected. I don't know enough about art to know what that says about either or both of them.
Lunch at the London Aquarium's Cafe A was yummy and too pricy for what it was: £6.25 for a cheese & salad sandwich and chocolate donut. I really paid for the view - overlooking foot traffic travelling alongside the Thames.
As a tourist destination, the London Aquarium is abysmal - and, at £13.25, a waste of precious pounds. Well, maybe not such a waste, as I did contribute to preservation of our oceans with my ticket purchase.
I hurriedly sought out Zone 9 as soon as I entered, thinking I had made it just in time for shark feeding time, only to discover I was a day late/early. Very disappointing. Then I saw how small the sharks were and realised the feeding show would not have been too vigorous. I followed through with the obligatory tour but I remained unimpressed. The Aquarium seems to have been set up for schoolkids and Londoners who haven't really been anywhere. I forget how spoiled we are for aquatic life in Perth.
I spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around London, trying not to spend more money [I did discover a photo development place and transferred my photos from memory card to DVD - finally! But now they're too big to attach to my blog!].
While Shane was out for the evening, Hayley and I had a junky night in - Thai, chocolate, a tub of Ben & Jerry's icrecream each, back-to-back Scrubs and Friends episodes. It was great, and we both woke up with food hangovers :p
*
Today. Happy Valentine's Day! I hope you have something special planned. I am spending a lazy day at the apartment because it is 8-degrees and threatening rain and it is so cosy in here :)
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