Moving from New Zealand to Chile is possibly our first significant brush with jet lag. We have been very lucky in so far as we have been moving short hops between countries without incurring significant ruptures to our internal clocks, did not notice too much when we arrived in Vietnam at the start of this trip and even when travelling on other occasions as far as Japan or Thailand, have never really experienced the kind of out of body/out of mind experience complained of by red eyed travellers who have been hungry for dinner at 3am, sleepy at 12 noon and wide awake at midnight. Until now that is.
I was recently heard bragging to a friend that we 'didn't really get jet lagged' and indeed, that I 'didn't believe in jet lag - only tiredness from losing sleep to a plane journey'.
I was, it would appear, wrong.
(And serves me right too, smug little madam that I was.)
So we stumble through the airport, are surprised by the diligence of the Chilean customs officials in asking difficult questions such as 'are you married or single' and 'what is your name'. (You may assume I am joking but I am caught off guard by the question of my marital status, finding myself befuddledly wondering if they mean now or historically, because of course I am married NOW but BEFORE I was single...)
We find our way to our Ecohostel, accidentally leave my passport in the photocopier there, collapse on the bed, get lost on the way to the toilets and then fall into a dead sleep until approximately 1am when we awake, fully alert and unable to even remember what sleep looks like. Three times I forget to obey the clear signs in the toilet requesting that toilet roll go in the bin rather than the pan and am therefore probably solely responsible for any subsequent blockage which may occur (differences in toilet etiquette are surprisingly marked - and hard to remember) and twice I cannot remember which room I should return to. The next day we carefully tip our lunch waitress 10%, having read that this is expected, only to have her run after us because we have tipped her in New Zealand cents. Embarrassed, I rectify this by giving her the '10%' in pesos. Later we realise we miscalculated by an order of magnitude trying to convert our minds back into dealing in thousands rather than tens and gave her an insultingly small tip which amounted to less than the cost of a bottle of water. (And yes, technically we cannot afford to tip at all, but 'technically' does not seem important in a country struggling with poverty rather more extreme than ours.)
Realising we are currently being more hopeless than we have been at any point in the previous seven months worth of travel, we attempt to become less gormless and more awake, and we embark on a walking tour of the city, and try to hold some portion of the information gleaned in our distinctly sieve like brains. Given that we are having trouble finishing a sentence or recalling each other's names, and had a most impassioned argument over whether or not we should have a jam sandwich for breakfast a week on Monday (I kid you not), I doubt I am doing much justice to the information given, but here, in some rather bleary eyed bullet points, are a few facts about Chile. Consider it your orientation. Or otherwise.
- Fact : Due to the practice of abandoning pets, there are a huge number of stray dogs in Chile.
Conjecture: there appears to be a dog on each street corner. M and I have concluded that they are closet police officers, busily fighting crime in their area. They do have an air of quiet authority...
- Fact : Chileans love fast food, hence the number of fast food outlets, serving delicacies such as hot dogs and a sort of sandwich cum burger which includes green beans.
Conjecture : this is why all Chileans are fat (says our guide, patting his rather insignificant paunch rather proudly).
- Fact : 'Once', which translates literally as 'eleven', is a word used for a drink and maybe a sandwich eaten in the evening, the main meal of the day being lunch. It derives from the Chilean liquor, 'eguardiente' which is drunk in the evening and has eleven letters in its name.
Conjecture : Once is not true Once if not comprised, at least in some part, of alcohol. At least that, says our guide, is the excuse.
Fact : despite being famous for it, coffee is not drunk much in Chile, tea being more popular. In a bid to increase the popularity of 'coffee' a selection of 'special' coffee bars have sprung up which feature darkened windows and bikini clad waitresses and which are wholly frequented by salivating (presumably) men. There may, if the punters are lucky, be a 'happy minute' in which the waitress removes said bikini, for all of 60 seconds. We all press our noses eagerly against the glass of one such establishment (notably it is the women in the group, me included, who rush to do this, while the men hang back shamefacedly) until an angry knock on the glass sends us scuttling back. Sadly I am not quick enough, or brave enough post angry glass banging, to get much of a glimpse inside and so cannot testify to the presence of actual living, breathing, bikini clad women but am told it is indeed so, by others. (If you are expecting a discussion on the exploitative or otherwise nature of this practice, I am afraid I am too sleep deprived to dream one up, but I do note that no such corresponding experience is offered to female 'coffee' lovers.)
Conjecture : the reason that there is no male equivalent of the bikini barristas (or indeed, the happy minute) is because there are no good looking Chilean men (says our guide. Who is Chilean. And male).
Conjecture : Chilean women do not, at least at this time of year (it is winter, despite being dry and sunny to the tune of 25 to 28 degrees), favour the tiny shorts as much as tourists seem to. We have a large group of girls on our tour all wearing 'Daisy Dukes' of one form or another and according to M, three Chilean men passed us slowly, looking intently at all the women's bottoms. (I am of course modestly dressed and this the only reason my bottom is not so intently studied - and not at all because the other girls are all about half my age). Those men, according to M, had their own 'happy minute'. Given this, and the number of wolf whistles to be heard on the streets of Santiago, I imagine those darkened windows conceal a great multitude of red blooded men, howling appreciatively.
- Fact : in the coup of 1973, which heralded the beginning of the dictatorship which we will visit a museum to learn more about tomorrow, the governmental palace, 'La Moneda', was destroyed, the former socialist president dying by suicide inside, but not before issuing an impassioned speech, now famous throughout Chile, in which he urged the people to have hope for an equal society and, one day, for a democratic government again.
Conjecture : the US (according to our guide, though my understanding here is rather muddled) were instrumental in supporting the dictatorship government in winning the coup, in order to quash socialism. I must admit, this is not hard to believe. I am not sure whether the western fear of communism and its consequential actions, has caused an equal amount of poverty, hardship, frustration, hatred and bloodshed, than communism itself, or to be precise, those values of communism which have somehow been adandoned, or failed. If what the guide implies is true, the same fear led to intervention which allowed for anything at all, as long as it was not communism, and was instrumental in subjecting the Chilean people to the following 17 years of misery. I was not convinced that our guide was entirely unbiased in these statements, particularly given his dark words later, when showing us a bust of Abraham Lincoln which was a present from America, that 'this is not important. I do not know why it is there. We do not like them. They do not like us. That is it.'
The bust was given in 1985, mid dictatorship, and the text beneath it purports that it was given 'for freedom and democracy, values shared by both America and Chile'. It, alone among many other gifts from overseas in the same park, is almost obliterated by angry looking graffiti.
Conjecture or otherwise? I am not sure. Unlike the statement that all Chileans are fat, this did not seem unequivocally refutable. There is a sense of anger newly healing in Chile, which given its relatively recent political history, is perhaps not difficult to understand.
Fact : Vegetarian cuisine is rare, most of the food being based on meat, fish and very sweet cakes and drinks.
Conjecture : perhaps its popularity is growing - certainly the concept of 'vegetariano/a' is pervasive, and the few solely vegetarian restaurants we found were very full.
Fact : Speciality drinks of Chile include a 'Pisco Sour', (pisco and lime) and, more notably, a Terremoto, (an 'earthquake'), which is comprised of grenadine, white wine and pineapple ice cream. After a Terremoto you can have a 'Replica', or 'After Shock', - which is the same again. You would follow this with a 'Tsunami', the same combination but with Blue Curaçao in place of Grenadine.
Conjecture : Presumably you follow your 'Tsunami' with a strong sense of dizziness and a keen headache, and, ultimately, a glass of Alka Seltzer and a darkened room.
Fact : Blogs being customarily written the following day (when I am not miles behind on them), I am writing this the day after our walk and can reveal that last night did not include any more sleep than the previous.
Conjecture : it is therefore quite possible that the contents of this entry can no more be trusted than if I had composed it after consuming three Earthquakes, several After Shocks and a couple of Tsunamis.
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