Not Chilly in Chile

OK lets get the excuses out of the way first. Reasons for not writing before include mind meltingly slow internet connection, keyboards so bad that I have to practically pummel my hands through the desk in order to get them to register anything, laziness and just plain having too much fun to write. But i am here now, little ones, worry ye not, I have not been eatedn by a rabid llama or necked so much malbec that I cant remember my name let alone my username.

OK, so where were we? Cant remember so let me go from Buenos Aires once more. Ah, I had to leave. Once my teeth were completely fixed there seemed little reason to stay beyond sheer love of the city, and that can get pricey. So on 31st December I planned ahead and prepared my bags ready to depart the next day. I neednt really have worried as I had a quiet New Year's Eve, exactly what I needed after the excesses of Christmas in Uruguay. And so on 1st January, I heaved my bag onto my back for the first time in a month (having just taken a small bag to Uruguay) and headed to the bus terminal and Cordoba. A German girl from my beloved Estoril hostel was heading the same way and off we went.

However she had booked into a different hostel to me so we parted ways on arrival in the morning and met later for some food. The next day I just wandered around and took photos. Then travelled overnight once more and hit Mendoza.

Mendoza produces around 70% of the wine in Argentina and it would have been rude not to have sampled some, though the drink of choice amongst the youngsters in the hostel was the rather punch packing fernet- which we nicknamed ferret for the face that you pull when you drink it. I did a wine tour with some people from the hostel and later that night we purchased some ferret in order to get the young hostel lad drunk. At some point in the night an asado (barbecue) was demanded for the next night. And the hostel laid it on a treat and promptly put Hostel Lagares Beltran at the top of my loved hostels list (Estoril at this point having been promoted to the home away from home list).

If it had been a wrench leaving Buenos Aires, I wasnt expecting to feel so sad leaving Mendoza. We had a blast over the three nights I was there- Lois, my American friend, and I set ourselves the thrifty challenges of finding the cheapest fernet we could (just under two quid) and the cheapest red wine (uf, about fifty pence a litre) all of which were actually wonderfully drinkable (once we got the coke-ferret ratio correct).

Arriving into Mendozza few days before I had glimpsed my first sight of the Andes since leaving Colombia nearly two years ago and a smile spread across my face. So I decided that my trip through them on the way to Santiago de Chile should be during the day to most enjoy the scenery.

Good idea.

Apparentely the same idea that nearly the entire population of Argentina felt the same way. Three hours after leaving Mendoza we were high in the desolate mountains at the border. Where we proceeded to stay for another three hours. Making us late into Santiago whioch had the knockon effect of buggering up my travel plans into the city.

I had been advised not to get a taxi, both by an English boy in Mendoza and the bus driver. The metro here is good and clean and unfortunately doesnt sell tickets after 11... I discovered at 11.02. My imploring finally melted the heart of the security guard who let us passengers through for free. A good result but stressful.

My second night in Santiago saw me meeting up with Fernando, a guy that I met in Medellin in 2007- often referred to, by me, as my only friend who doesnt speak English. We sank a few beers, had an alarmingly green looking pizza (avocado being overly used here to a degree) then hit a clandestine club for some serious grooving. All in Spanish, fortunately Fernando is pretty good at speaking Spanish slowly and clearly, without all the embellishments usually employed by Chileans.

Sightseeing yesterday was great. I was standing in a queue for the funicular and a Brazilian guy in front of me turned out to be the tour leader of the massive group waiting behind me in the line. When the ticket guy asked me how many tickets I needed I said one, just one, and pouted. He told me that there was nothing wrong with being alone and I said that there is when you are behind a large group of Brazilians. He then told me to push my way into the line and brought out my tickets and change for me! A few minutes later he took me to the front of the queue and pushed me ahead of everyone. Bless him! And all in Spanish again:)

Then I bought a couple of tops, the most important thing for me being that they werent black, I always seem to wear black. The woman told me that the purple suited my hair.

And it must have done since the local nutter today told me that I was very beautiful. Though I pretended not to speak Spanish.

Today is my last day in Santiago and I might even enter a museum later....