Santiago and Headaches

I arrived to Santiago yesterday from Valparaiso. It was a quick little jaunt of just about 2 hours. Public transportation is not as fun and doesn´t feel as friendly when there is only you and one other person on the bus. I might as well have been in a personal car which would likely spit out less toxic exhaust fumes and consume less fuel. I was advised to not visit Santiago this time of year because the climate in the summer made the city oppresively hot and humid and created a cloud cover of smog so thick that the city would all but disappear when viewed from above. I was not looking forward to this and my body was not thrilled about sucking in enough pollution to thicken my lungs. However, due to my revised travel plans, I figured I should go to Santiago now in order to meet with Sergio Reyes from Geo Wines.

When I got off the bus at Pajaritos station I was within city limits but did not immediately feel the shock of being in the country`s capital. It was relatively quiet, lacking the symphony of horns of Lima. I could see greenery and parks. I must be in some sort of suburb I thought. I continued on toward my hostel by boarding the Metro - Line 1, running East to West through the city. It was the cleanest subway system I have been on anywhere in my life. The platform was spotless, no trash or newpapers flew through the air as the train approached. Inside the train I continued to be amazed. The floors nearly glistened. There were maps and recorded voices clearly announcing my whereabouts as I progressed toward my destination.

Salvador was my stop and upon arriving I checked a map (because there was one) and headed up the steps for my first glimpse of the heart of Santiago where nearly half the population of the entire country lives. I saw more green. And fountains. Traffic was light, there were people riding bikes. I was confused. This was supposed to be a horrible place like the rest of the capital cities in Latin America (with the exception of D.F, Mex), but it wasn´t. It was a perfect example of the European influence in Chile, which at that moment, felt more like Spain.

My hostel was only around the corner. After checking in and relaxing for a bit with my book, I took off on a walk down the pedestrian parkway that ran down the middle of one of the main streets. I poked around in another park along the way where I saw couples relaxing as they laid comfortably in some shady grass, a rarity in this part of the world where no one lays on grass. Then I explored Santa Lucia, a large uninteresting handicraft market. I stopped for a bit to use the internet to try to Skype Esteban on his birthday but ended up video chatting with my parents instead. At some point during our conversation I realized what a bad headache I had. The pollution and exhaust fumes didn´t seem to be very bad, so I couldn´t place the blame on them. Instead, I decided it was due to lack of food since I hadn´t eaten since breakfast in Valparaiso that morning. I said goodbye to my parents and found a super mercado on my walk home.

As I mentioned, Chile is one of the least environmentally sustainable places in South America. An easy place to see that is in the produce aisle of the grocery store. Everything comes in packages. The broccoli florets sit in a styrofoam tray, suffocated under plastic wrap. The garlic can only be purchased in packages, as can the avocados, the carrots, the mushrooms. Finding vegetables that were sold individually was a difficult task (a task made very easy at the small neighborhood markets), but since I was just one person I had no need for 12 avocados bundled together. I found a grapefruit, a couple of tomatoes, a zuchhini, and an onion. Everything must then be placed in its own plastic bag and weighed. I have tried on several different occasions various methods to try to avoid this step of individually bagging every vegetable. I have tried asking them to weigh my single banana and place the sticker on the banana peel. They shake their head no and look at me like I have just spontaneously combusted before their eyes. They tell me that it is not possible.

Upon entering the hostel I became aware of what a smelly place it was. Maybe it was because I already had a headache. I was very conscious of the artificial smell of citrus from the woman cleaning, the Axe body spray wafting out of the dorm rooms of European kids on gap year trips, and the smell of the linens on the beds. It all served to intensify my headache. I prepared my dinner (pasta and sauce made out of my veggies and some garlic I stole from the cupboards at the hostel with some garlic bread on the side) and scarfed it down hoping to alleviate my head. Sadly, food did not help so I called upon a chemical remedy, this too failed. Eventually I decided to just sleep it off. I climbed up onto the rickety top bunk that creaked and groaned every time I tossed and turned under the smelly sheets in the heat of the Santiago night.