Capital of Chile - Preparation - 18 Feb 2003
Hotel Santiago
Light in the tunnel
The camera debate
Jabs
Night out, day out, and night out with Christian and Paulina
And so to Santiago.
The shock absorber saga
Lonely Planet
And finally, Helenís blood pressure
Now Iím not saying that we donít like Santiago. Itís just that we seem to be spending half of our life here. We came back to pick up Bertha knowing that we needed to get into the Embassy to get new passports (Ours being full now, one of the penalties of going to lots of countries).
There was also getting a camera to replace our stolen one, getting replacement yellow fever vaccination certificates, trying to get the shock absorber fixed for the bike, get a new Lonely Planet, get Helenís blood pressure checked (rumours of it being abnormally high) get photocopies of all documents, new spare keys cut, etc, etc. Hardly the most exciting stuff to tell our readers about, but a necessary part of the trip after all.The hotel that weíd been in before found us a room of sorts ñ a bit scrappy but at least blessed with a large amount of floor space which we need for organising everything before setting off north. Our first problem was finding a berth for Bertha. Local parking places were asking the same for a foreign bike as for a local car. I refused to succumb to their blind robbery and cruised the streets checking out all possible spaces. Just then I chanced on a key cutters who could do the keys I wanted. The down side was that he wanted 2500 scoobies to cut one key. After a bit of banter (turns out he was of German descent and enjoyed a pidgin banter in Deutsch) he ended up cutting three keys for 2500. Funny old world.
As I emerged from the cutters, there was I guy on a BMW eyeing up Bertha and once it was established after a bit of fumbling Spanglish that he spoke perfect English we got to the nitty gritty. He was interested in heading up to the high Andes at San Pedro and wanted to know about engine tuning. I bemoaned the fact that his countrymen were being a shade tight on the parking front. The upshot was that Bertha found herself nestling on a piece of land that Christian owns and we agreed to meet up for a beer, soon. Amazing, maybe our stay in Santiago will be short and sweet.
The British Embassy was also extremely helpful. The lady behind the desk even recognised my t-shirt logo as being that of the manufacturer of high quality optical equipment. Once we had found out the exact fees for our new passports we had to nip out to get the cash. We were told that weíd have to come back at 11 as they had to deal with a ëdistressed nationalí. As we left, a very chipper Australian, wearing a white water rafting t-shirt, was cracking jokes at the counter alongside a tall attractive girl. We assumed that these were not the ëdistressed nationalsí.
But they were. It turns out that a friend of the girl had died in a white water rafting accident. While I can forgive her companions silly jokes as an attempt to cheer her up, I really cannot believe that he could have been so insensitive about his clothing. It does rather put the loss of a few possessions and some inconvenience into perspective.
There were also an elderly couple reapplying for passports that had had them lifted along with 600 quid in cash. The embassy needlessly warned us that crime was on the up.
Just up around the corner was the place that had been recommended by my bike doctor as the only shock absorber fixer in town. When we found what we assumed was his establishment (a bit tatty but bedecked with motocross logos) we were depressed to discover that he was away on holidays. While we like the style of the Chileans being able to shut their businesses down for the hols, in this case we appreciated that maybe the British way of ëwe never closeí has its virtues. Personally, I think that the Chileans have it right. That they are willing to forgo a bit of business in order to have a good time. Still, he was due back on the 12th and the passports should be ready on the 11th or 13th so it should be worth waiting......... if he comes back on time that is! There is, of course, the manaÒa factor to take into account.
Before leaving Blighty we considered our camera options. Should we go digital? There were obvious advantages; no film costs, no development costs, easy transfer to web, etc. The downsides were fairly obvious, too; need to carry software disc for downloading at internet caffs, needing to download at internet caffs was not a guaranteed possibility, power leads, transmission leads and all sorts of stuff.
We heard about a Sony camera that took 3 ‡ floppies and this seemed the best way to go. The problem here was that the discs managed to store about 10 high quality pictures, which was not quite up to our needs. Also the camera was correspondingly huge and very expensive. We soldiered on with our old SLR and thanked the generosity and hard work of our lovely webmaster who developed and scanned piccies for us.
Now Sony does a camera that records on re-writeable minidisks. This has got to be the way forward ñ or has it? We spent the next three days traipsing around town into every feasible second hand camera and new camera shop. There seemed to be no one who actually knew anything about cameras and could eradicate our anxieties that a digital CD camera may not be up to the shaking about we would give it on the rough roads and the humidity further north. They also seemed reluctant to give us a worldwide guarantee. We flitted randomly from yes letís go for it, to no - letís stick a robust manual. We knew that there were all kinds off bonuses to digital, and the CD allayed our fears of not being able to download in internet caffs. But it would all be a waste of money if it packed up from the vibration on the first rough dirt we hit. Besides that we were rather in the dark about which digital cameras are any good. What we really wanted was to see evidence of the tests they put the camera through and to use a camera for a bit and try it out before we splash out half a grand on something we know nothing about.
In the end we found a shop run by a photographer, who was selling a myriad of second hand bodies and lenses. I picked up a Vivitar that seemed to be just as basic a beast as we could ask for. As Pat was toying with it, the salesman said without prompting the words that we had been waiting to hear ëits made by the same company that makes for Pentax and Canon. Itís hardy - the sort of camera that will not be effected by cold, heat and humidityí. He must have read our minds. He even allowed us to run off a film and try out a couple of lenses. What more could we ask for. Weíre sorry Will, but we ended up continuing to be luddites.
What impressed me the most was the fact that he had a load of other similarly specified cameras at higher prices that he could have foisted on us but he seemed to know what we needed. Perhaps itís just that this thing has been sitting around gathering dust forever and a day. You should be able to judge for yourselves when the first piccies appear off this camera in a month or so.
Iím not good with needles and so having jabs in a foreign country is not my idea of fun. We were not even sure of the wisdom of having fresh yellow fever jabs. I was OK I guessed, it having been about 8 years since the last one. We couldnít really get advice on Hippyís situation ñ having had her last jab one and a half years ago. I had visions of her ODing on vaccine and going down with the fever. Of course, I am not a medical person.
We found the clinic in the middle of Santiago hospital and, thanks to the help of other vaccinees, worked our way through the process of getting a jab; consultation, payment and jab. There were no signs displayed as to where the various offices were and so we were quite pleased with ourselves for getting done. I was really impressed that the whole procedure took 20 minutes and I remember that my one in the UK had taken numerous phones calls and much more expensive to just track down some supply. The layout of the hospital was rather nice too with lots of shady courtyards for the recuperating to do their thing. All in all a very pleasant experience.
We are still not sure whether getting the jabs done was our best option. It all boils down to the loss of our certificates. Our insurance covers the replacement of documents but we figured that trying to contact the issuing doctors in England and getting new certs. would work out more trouble and expense than replacing them at this end. At 15 quid a shot, let us hope that the insurers agree with us and cough up.
Night out, day out, and night out with Christian and Paulina
As promised, we took Christian and his dear lady wife out for a beer. They proved to be charming company and we gaffed for quite a while until tiredness overtook us. We had to be up early to prepare for football.
There was a chance of going to see Santiago Wanderers which we thought might be a bit of a daft day out. We wondered what they would make of an expatriate Boltonian leading them off with ìWe are, we are, we are the Wanderersî Of course this could have been simply translated for their benefit as ìSomos, somos, somos, los Wanderersî which I think could be adopted at the Reebok for a more exotic feel to the chanting. We spent the next day thinking up all manner of chants for English teams in foreign languages that could introduce a new kind of match day rivalry of a non-violent nature.
In the end, depression kept me away from the Santiago game. Once again the Trotters forgot to observe the golden rule of footy viz. keep playing until the ref tells you to stop. Poor Helen had to put up with something of a purple-faced fuming Pat for the rest of the day. I wonder if the players realise how much their negligence can affect world harmony.
The next time we met up with C+P was on a jaunt up into the mountains. Even though they have now been married for over a year, she has never been out of the city limits on his bike. As they are considering a bike holiday up to San Pedro de Atacama, they thought a bit of a training session would be in order.
Iíll be frank it was also a good plan for me, after all it had been nearly a month since Bertha and I had had intimate contact. The chosen route by our guide was excellent, took us on a medium single width dirt road up to a gorgeous lake. There a couple of mates of theirsí, Alex and his wife, joined us with their hatchback, for a few sarnies. Poor Paulina was already beginning to feel the strain. My biking muscles had also got a little weak over the last month. I however have the advantage of a large derriere (not half) to cushion me from the bumps and vibrations over rough ground, Paulina being much more svelt was taking more grief.
There were thermal springs at the end of the road, sorry track, and after half a hard day on the bikes it seemed like a marvellous idea. The road was rough and we negotiated a number of mini streams, but it was taking time and the afternoon was disappearing. We got within a km of the springs and it was decision time there was a river to cross about 10m wide and of varying depths up to at least half a metre. (of course there may have been deeper spots that could not be seen as is often the case with rivers like this) It was impossible to see the position of the rocks on the bed of the river due to the fast flow of the river. Iím making excuses - what kind of hard-nosed adventurers are we? We wimped out and turned around. I get the feeling if we had been more game, Christian would have gone for it. Now we will never know. I know that I we were faced with the same river and no option but to cross we would have gone for it, but when it is just for fun. For me, discretion is always the best part of valour. If you are disappointed in us, sorry.
Of course, I was straining at the leash to tackle this raging torrent. At least, so I can claim as Hippy has made the excuses for us. The point for me was that Bertha is not the best at coping with stray water in her electrics and the idea of having to hang around for an hour while she dried out and then having to head down the dirt roads in the dark did not appeal. Thatís my excuse and Iím sticking to it.
We headed back with us in the middle of the convoy, but we lost sight of the hatchback to our rear and so we slowed up for them to catch up. I certainly was pleased that I was on a bike; it was probably harder work for the car, with its low ground clearance and uneven ground. They were not catching up so we pulled over and mentally agreed to give them 15 minutes to catch and then we would turn back, they could just be enjoying the view after all. As time wore on I became more and more worried that they had come to grief in some way or other. Just then a big white van came past that we had overtaken earlier and should have been behind the car. They told us that the car had had a puncture and they were putting on the spare wheel.
Christian appeared from down the road and decided to head back to see how they were getting on. We agreed to meet up further down the road so we could get some photos in before the light faded. Just as we stopped for our first piccies, the entourage appeared from the rear in a ball of dust. While we were pleased to see them all, we had not really had the breathing space that we wanted to get the piccies in. Heigh, ho.
We stopped a couple more time on the way down but felt that we were holding the procession up and so tried to keep it to a minimum. Each time we stopped, the order of the convoy changed and eventually, Alex had to go to the front as he was blocking the narrow track as we photoed. Next time we caught them up, disaster. Another puncture. We offered up our foot pump to not avail, it was well and truly wrecked. Now with no spare, he was forced to drive down the remaining 20 km or so on a flat tyre. Fair play to his tyres, they stayed on.
The first gommeria (tyre repairer) was clearly in his cups and unwilling to attend to the tyres. It is a testament to the Chilean chilledness that Christian seemed unfazed by this fellowís lack of concern. We had to head down to the next shop to get service and even here the proprietor seemed less than bothered. He managed to affect a repair on the first of the blowouts. Unsurprisingly, the second tyre was completely trashed. Given the state of both of the rims, getting a seal on the repaired tyre was quite lucky.
A special thank you to Christian for organising this trip. It was a pleasant diversion from the hassles we were having in Santiago, and a lovely change to ride with other bike enthusiasts.
The next time we met up was in a rather nice little street cafÈ that is obviously massively popular among the Chilean stylish folk. I guess it would be appropriate to fill in on ëwhoí everyone is. Christian was raised in Spain before returning to Chile. His family has a range of businesses in Chile ranging from finance to forestry. I concede that in yellow pages terms this is probably quite a limited range. He has opted to move into the property business and is busy converting properties into spacious apartments and leasing/selling them. If ever you need accommodation in Santiago for an extended period, look up www.lofts.cl Paulina is the daughter of a Chilean mother and English father. He is an astronomer and has worked all over the world. As a result Paulina was educated in the UK completing her studies with a law degree at Cambridge ñ impressive stuff. She now finds that as the Chilean legal system is based on Roman law rather than case law, her studies are redundant and temporarily satisfies herself selling Christianís lofts. Strangely, her father had been on Hawaii while Watsonís were building a telescope there. This was the connection between us that proves the rule that you are only separated from anyone else on the planet by four links.
Alex is a rather affable chap in the rag trade. His family also owns a theatre, as his mother was a famous Chilean actress. He and his wife were newly weds and were great company for the evening. They were very kind to us by speaking in English for the evening. As the beer and piscos flowed and we all relaxed, their confidence grew and their English became more and more elaborate. By the end of the evening, it felt as if these people were already becoming good friends. When Alex suggested that we stay till Friday and go to his wifeís birthday party, it was sorely tempting. We had enjoyed everyoneís company so much that we were even contemplating heading north with Christian and Paulina who were off to sunny San Pedro for their hols. But we thought it best that they had their freedom to take it at their own pace, it being their first real bike trip together. We had also been stuck in Santiago for longer than we would have liked and big cities have never been our thing.
They filled us in on a few things that had been troubling us.
- Tambien. This is the Spanish word for as well, also, too. We have heard it in many unlikely situations. For example, a waiter will wander over and say this single word. What is that supposed to mean? Paulina was as puzzled as we were. Then a waiter came over and said it. ìsee, see, see, he just said itî. Apparently he had used the words ìesta bien?î Pronunciation and the dropping of random sís has been our undoing several times. Clearly we ought to be more sporting to foreigners who come to England. They must be mighty puzzled when they hear ìQî instead of ìthankyouî or ìtaraî instead of ìcheerioî. See what I mean.
- The big yellow buses in Santiago travel around as if they are in a race. It is incredibly dangerous as another road user. They stop briskly for lights and crossings and so pedestrians are not at risk. It turns out that these uniformly hued beasts are not, as we supposed, municipal buses at all but privately owned and as a result need to race to pick up the most passengers. Passengers = cash.
- There are loads of bus spotters on the streets with clipboards. Paulina found this hugely entertaining. Only a Brit could believe that people of the world would spot buses for a pastime. This was a bus racing spin off. These guys stand in the street like lap timers in formula one and hold up pit boards to inform the drivers how far they are ahead/behind other competitors on their route.
- As we had come to realise, the three lanes closest to the pavements on either side of the main thoroughfare (Bernado oí Higgins, of course) are reserved for buses. This leaves the two lanes next to the central reservation for ëother usersí. Our question was what the etiquette is when attempting to turn off the main route. The only strategy offered was to push through the speeding buses and trust in the good Lord. Reassuring, given that the buses are unconcerned about taking chunks out of each other as they pass with not even the room for a fag paper between them.
We parted that evening, feeling that these people were now friends and hoped that we would have a chance sometime to meet again.
Weíd seen that the guy who repairs shocks was away on holiday until the day after our passports were due. When the passports were delayed by a day, it seemed kismet that we needed to pay him a visit.
As we arrived at his premises, there seemed to be no one home. Just then, the car that had just been driving out of the car park reversed back in again and our man stepped out. I pointed at the shock and muttered about reparar and he responded with favourable noises that we were unable to fully translate. He seemed keen to help us out and so we wheeled Bertha into his shop, removed the shock and parted company after asking the price, of course. He said that it would be 10 to 20 quid but he would need to open it up to be sure before quoting. He agreed to phone us at the hotel in the afternoon and keep us informed.
When he called and told me it would be 140 of our English pounds, I could have fallen off the chair. It seems that I had miss-heard him before and he had said 110 to 120. It still seemed a bit much and I did the only thing I could think of and got Christian to ring the guy up and see what the huge expense was about. It seems that all of the parts had to be imported from the States and that to charge the nitrogen container was a complex operation by Chilean standards. I could well believe it, but still had palpitations when thinking of the bill.
Still, it had to be fixed.
When I picked the bike up the following morning, it certainly seemed that heíd gone to town on the repair. It seems that mechanics in South America at least display the correct attitude to cleanliness. It was pretty much ëas newí. Let us see how long it lasts.
We trawled all of the new and used bookshops in Santiago on the search for guidebooks. No avail. The best we could do was a LP for Bolivia from 1996. As we bemoaned our fate over brekky at the hotel a charming young couple of English travellers said, ìWhy donít you have ours? Weíre off to Australia tomorrow.î Why not indeed. I sometimes wonder why we go to all the effort of trying to sort stuff out for ourselves when it seems to drop in our laps. We did of course bung them a tenner of the queens own for their trouble and a good few belts from our two litre wine box. Not at breakfast, I hasten to add.
And finally, Helenís blood pressure
Just to prove the donít trouble yourself unduly theory we found Helenís blood pressure, not in all the departments of the hospital that we tried ñ no. Indeed it was a wizened old guy sat in the doorway of a pharmacy with a table, stethoscope and sphygmomanometer (check that one out webmaster!). Result normal. (But can we trust this man?)