De sol a sol, and then some

Earlier, I tried to lay down for a nap, but I think my body enjoys the irony that I am only tired when I can’t sleep (the picture is my roommate rubbing in the fact that I can’t sleep). So here I am, writing perhaps what will be the longest post in my blog thus far.

The day is currently Thursday, March 1, 2007. Did you say “rabbit, rabbit, rabbit?” No? Well, neither did I, but for some reason I vaguely remember Alison always asking that on the first of every month.

In addition to today being the first day of a brand new month, it is also the first day of my second week in Santiago, and I have not yet been mugged, shot, or contracted any rare, life-threatening diseases. Plus, I finally got a cell phone that works! I know it’s not much, but sometimes you gotta celebrate the small stuff.

While I have only been here a week, there seems to be an overwhelming sense that I have lived here forever. I don’t know whether that’s more a product of the huge pile of dirty laundry that is accumulating in the corner of my luxurious room (a picture of which, as promised, is included in my previous post) or the fact that my life is just so drastically different than it was before I left.

I am still living out of a suitcase while I continue to look for a place to live full-time. In the meantime, here is a glimpse into my daily routine at the hostel:

-Wake up before the sun to the melodic cacophony of dogs barking, renegade car alarms, the room vibrating in concert with my roommate’s snoring, the sound of dripping water from the bathroom next door, or some combination thereof.

-Take stock of the amount of skin that is flaking off of me like the paint from a barn door in Siberia

-Curse myself for not getting more than 3 hours’ sleep (again)

-At this point, I normally stumble to my feet and wander, half-naked, to the inevitably occupied bathroom, outside of which I will wait, in my towel, for an average of 15 minutes before some girl (it’s always a girl) saunters out in a flourish of heat and steam.

-With the mirror still foggy and sweating, I turn the shower on warm, and wait… Then warmer, and wait… Then hot, and wait…

(It is important to keep in mind, I am normally not a terribly patient man. Still, for a hot shower, I will temper my normally intemperate temper.)

-Finally, spirits broken, I succumb to the reality that I will once again be showering under a glacial falls (and suppress my desire to pour a bucket of the icy stream on the Cyprian bawd in the shower before me).

-I emerge from the shower smelling sweetly and shivering mightily, ready to face the day.

-Downstairs awaits our included breakfast of a peace of bread and cheese. No complaints here, though, because I am so hungry from staying out so late the night before that every morsel takes like filet mignon.

-I usually then wait an average of 15 to 20 minutes to use the internet, where I can find out whether Duke got pasted by Maryland (check), whether the Chinese stock market crashed (check), and whether that annoying chick from Grey’s anatomy shaved her head (check).

-Satisfied that I am caught up in world affairs, it is upstairs to brush my teeth, and I am on my way.

-In the metro, I get to push, squeeze, shimmy, and squish my way past the grumblings of the locals until I have satisfactorily wedged myself between the fat, sweaty guy, and the woman that smells like old cheese.

-At class, my body and my mind engage in an epic battle to see who will reign victorious in the ongoing struggle to stay awake: right now, the brain has a slight edge, but sustained severe casualties when Body almost threw Brain to the ground (sheltered cranium and all) when Chin slipped from its perch atop Hand.

-The rest of class is usually a blur until we break for lunch.

-Here, I oscillate between sitting for the full break with some friends at a moderately priced restaurant, and getting a really cheap, quick meal alone and then run some errands, so that I can return to class sweaty and smelling like the lady from the metro.

-After lunch, Brain and Body reconvene in their pursuits until we are dismissed.

-From there, it is around town:
With friends, or alone, I have gone to a couple gyms, run in the park, gotten lost in numerous different areas, and tripped a young girl, who started to cry, at which point I scurried off into the safety of anonymity.

In my defense, the girl was running like a drunken sprinter down an incredibly crowded street, and playing chicken with the legs of every stranger in her way (she was only about 3 feet tall). By the time I saw her, she had already managed to catch her foot under mine while I was in mid-stride and she fell like a lemming. I tried to ask her if she was okay, but someone scooped her up off the ground, and amidst her tears and screams, I figured my broken Spanish would do more harm than good, so like Batman, I fled to protect my identity.

-By the time I get back from exploring, working out, or maiming young children, it is usually about 10pm, so I meet up with some friends for dinner.

-After dinner, Marcelo (some guy who I only know because, while I was in Los Angeles, Hugo’s friend Gabe – whom I had never met before – told me to get in touch with his friend Marcelo – whom I had never met before – while I was down in Santiago) usually calls with some grand plans to go out and party for the evening… Always on the condition that I bring some American girls, because according to Marcelo, “for me, the Am-er-ee-kahn girls are so ees-see” to pick up.

-Marcelo rolls up at about midnight, and from about 12:30am to about 4am, I….

….will let you use your imagination.

-My squeaky door screams to my roommate for help at about 4:30 am, to which my roommate responds with a grunt, a repositioning of his torso, a few smacks of the lips, and a return to business as usual.

-Earphones in ear, I usually pass out about two chords into the first song.



…And just to be clear, while my commentary might seem pretty negative, I am loving every minute of the schedule above. I just hope sleep is as overrated as Matty says it is.