What Sarah had failed to tell me was that Dadi, our Israeli amigo from Pucón, would be arriving at our hostel Friday morning for a single day. A wonderful surprise! We continue on from when last we met, discussing Israeli / Palestinian flags around Northern Ireland, and why you don't have any Israeli suicide bombers (I believe our agreed answer was that any Israeli fundamentalist who was promised 88 virgin Israeli girls might give up that fundamentalism immediately, who needs the hassle of 88 virgin Israeli girls?). We did also agree that, were Norn Iron to get over its ongoing inter-community conflict, then it could become the new Switzerland (lovely countryside, incredibly boring, lots of banks, big lake). We think Belfast Bacon could be the new Swiss Chocolate (after all, both taste much better with a little salt).
Two things to do today : buy a USB cable (mini-B) for my new camera, and climb to the top of Cerro Santa Lucía, from which you have a great view of the Santiago skyline. First, some random shots of Santiago as we head towards the centre.
At the back of La Moneda palace, the flegs look well. This is how you get around the issue of the council taking a fleg down; have a dozen of them!
By this point several hours have passed since we left the hostel. Buying a USB cable (mini-B) sounds like a simple task, one that could even be resolved in a supermarket. You'd be wrong. After asking in a dozen shops all over town, we fail utterly to get one. It seems this particular connection is very unpopular, either that or someone hasn't explained to me the illegal (illicit) nature of this type of connection. Or maybe I'm just not allowed to buy one as a foreigner. That would explain it. We end up in Galeria Metropolitana, where a tiny passport photo kiosk shop sells me one for two quid. This is after the first one she offered me got stuck in the socket of the camera and the cable broke. Sarah and Dadi, meanwhile, enjoy the photos outside the shop, not least the one of the baby who seems to be strangling itself. Sarah also explains to Dadi the difference between 'to hit a girl' and 'to hit on a girl', a subtle yet important distinction!
We head to Cerro Santa Lucía. It's time to look at things from high up and mess with Sarah's vertigo.
This is the glorious view from the first floor of Santa Lucía Hill.
This is the Terraza Neptuno, first floor at Santa Lucía Hill.
This is a magical fountain, as endorsed by the Make-A-Wish Foundation.
The final staircase to the top of the hill. By this point Sarah's vertigo is not doing very well.
Here's a nice idea of what Santiago looks like. Totally average city with incredible backdrop.
Ok, thats enough looking at things. Let's go and buy a stupidly big ice cream for, oh, £2.50 at Bravissimo.
Dadi and yours truly (for those of you who are reading this blog cause you searched for some anti-Irish-but-pro-Latin-American-blog material on Google, something like 'No CARRICK in URUGUAY' or similar, and you don't actually know me. That has to account for at least some of my page views, I don't know that many people in real life. Not people who care what I'm up to, waltzing around in South America, anyway).
We got back to the hostel intending to quickly get ready and head out to a beer festival. My initial impression was that the festival was about a five minute walk away. After checking with the staff of the hostel, it turned out the festival was approximately three bus journeys away. It would also be closing at 11pm. To hell with that. Up Avenida Brazil we go, eventually ending up in a little bar offering an excellent hoppy beer called Rothhammer by the litre. Throw some papas bravas (more or less) into the mix and we had a darn fine rootin' tootin' time. Mind you, it was pretty cold by the time it came to leave. Always have a jumper spare when you go out at night in Santiago, folks.
Back at the hostel, Dadi and Sarah have a good auld heart-to-heart chat, whilst I fell asleep at the table and sent myself to bed. A much improved day in excellent company.
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