In the Meantime

With the search for housing consuming most of my thoughts, I almost forgot to catch everyone up on the weekend.

Where we last left off before finding housing, I had mentioned that I planned to see a few more places before going to a party with Marcelo and company. As it turns out, the place that I had walked by the day before (the one I mentioned that I couldn't get in touch with the owner) is the place where I am now living. He called me back, I went to see the place, and the rest is history.

Immediately after touring the house, I assured the "landlord" (I put that in quotes because the liaison for our house is probably a year or two older than I am, and he is way too cool to be a landlord... Of course, Shelden Williams was pretty cool too...), landlord or not, I assured him that I would be able to move in on Monday, and would pay my deposit then. Needless to say, things worked out.

With a new cause for celebration, we went out on Saturday night to a sort of rave/concert/dance club. The venue was definitely that of a concert, and there was a dj of sorts, but the ambience was all techno-electronica replete with smoke-machines, hypnotic irridescent lights, and over-priced beverages. In all, the night was pretty fun. Perhaps the best part, though, was after everyone had left, I was on my way out when I ran into none other than a heretofore unmentioned girl named Cami. She was heretofore unmentioned simply because it's not always easy to write anything substantive about a girl who ignores you completely.

The back story is as follows: on one of my first couple of nights out with Marcelo and friends, I went to their local hangout (which just so happens to be an incredibly shi-shi bar near the outskirts of town). It was there that I was nearly given whiplash by all the beautiful, exotic-looking girls walking around. I tried unsuccessfully to charm one with my meager spanish abilities, and was summarily defeated when instead of humoring me, she simply reverted to English (that was probably better than my own). Nevertheless, I somehow managed to get an email address, and sent her an email, never to hear from her again... Or so I thought (and I'm sure she wished).

Fate, the ever indulging prankster, put me in such a position that I literally had to side-step around Cami to get out of the club that night. I don't know if it was the language barrier, the lingering haze of the fog machine, or simply dim recollection resulting from sleep deprivation, but I found the encounter to be rather cordial, and surprisinly lacking in awkwardness.

Either way, she did acknowledge receipt of my email, which, if nothing else, proves that responding wasn't really high on her list of priorities. We are planning on having a party this weekend at my new house, so I will give her one last chance to redeem herself, and if I am once again placed below clipping nails and brushing hair, she's a done deal.

Lesson to all girls: if you aren't interested, simply say so... It will save some poor guy a lot of trouble, time, and energy, not to mention some extra space on his blog which he could fill with witty vignettes and/or prose poetry.

Liberated as I was from the manacle of the housing search, Sunday was devoted to sheer laziness: a leisurely breakfast, drop off some laundry, check the progress of the ACC Tourney (Go to Hell Carolina!), and then off the Cerro Santa Lucia (picture at top).

Though I had run there a number of times, I had never been to the top. It is actually a pretty incredible little park that is situated right in the heart of Santiago Centro. After a brief look around, I planned to get a little reading done in the midday heat (hence the beach attire). We parked ourselves next to a couple using their tongues to explores the cavernous dwellings of the other's mouth, fully expecting the display to end withing a few minutes. After about an hour or so, I was unable to endure the wet slurping sounds (think of a hose vaccuum reaching the bottom of a bucket of water) any longer, and my ever-growing puddle of sweat further goaded me to an early departure.

On the way back to the hostel, I picked up my laundry, organized some things, replenished some fluids, and then met up with a couple people in our group to watch a free performance from Plácido Domingo at the Plaza de Armas. This is about as close as we got to the stage (the white arrow points to the scaffolding of the main stage, well behind the satellite screen in front of us), which is to say, we were not very close.

We left after a little bit, stopped by the cheap Italian restaurant by our hostel, received some terrible service - they laughed when I told them we wanted to be able to swim in pebre (kind of the Chilean version of salsa), and then rather than giving us more, they took away all that we were originally given - and called it a night.

Monday morning, I packed up my stuff, said good-riddance to my bed at the Londres, and spent the rest of the day running errands and getting settled into my new home.