That is of course, until now. As a bit of a precursor, I am currently fuming mad and am writing off the cuff in order to vent. I want to gather myself enough to say that in general, life is amazing, and I am incredibly blessed to be able to sit here and type on my computer in my free time in Chile while other people around the world are starving, homeless, or stuck at a boring desk job that they hate.
Neverthess, my current (as in, up-to-the-second) assessment of Chile is the following: "I love life. I love being in Chile. I love Chile... But I HATE Santiago."
Ok, that made me laugh. Hate is a strong word. Let's just say, if you had one year left to live, and in that one year you could spend 1 day in any city, pueblo, or derelict shantytown in even the most remote parts of the world, with 365 and one quarter cities to visit, I STILL wouldn't recommend Santiago... At least not in the winter.
It is grey... Too grey.
...Except for when it rains... Then it is wet. And once it stops raining, it's grey again.
It IS functional... Inefficient and tedious, but functional.
It is safe... If you are paranoid.
The people are nice... As long as you don't talk to them.
It isn't THAT cold... Unless you sleep inside.
It has a lot of wildlife... If you count mangy dogs as wildlife.
It has culture... According to Chileans, cheating, stealing, and passing the blame are all very popular.
All right. That's enough. I just needed to get that off my chest.
I don't know why I let it get to me so much, but my crappy phone has been acting up. And unlike in other developed nations where companies have some accountability to stand behind their product or service AFTER the initial transaction, I have seen very little of that in Chile (perhaps that can be credited to the "blame-passing" part of their culture).
Nevertheless, when my phone when on the fritz for no other reason than that it was probably made by some gorgeous inept blonde named Sven (it is a Nokia phone), I did my best to be optimistic that everything would get resolved quickly and easily, and one trip to the Entel store would be all I would need to get up and running again.
I was wrong.
I stepped outside into a mosaic of different shades of grey, and as soon as I was far enough away from my house to where it would be a nuisance to turn back, it started to rain. I of course have not grown accustomed to bringing my umbrella with me everywhere I go, and neither do I have the ability to tell the difference between the charcoal colored RAIN clouds, and the graphite colored SMOG.
Thinking optimistically, I waited at the bus stop, hoping that the net combined wait+transit time of taking a bus would be shorter (and dryer) than walking the 20 minutes to the Entel store.
I was wrong.
The first bus slowed down just enough to get everyone at the stop excitedly walking to the curb in order to receive a cuff full of dirty street water when the bus continued on through a puddle. Knowing that on average a bus only comes about once every 15 minutes, I figured I would take a little jog in the rain to pass the time. I got to the Entel store after a combination of walking and jogging (wet though I was, I still have an aversion to dripping sweat before walking into a place of business) for about 10 minutes without ever seeing the bus that would have taken me the length of the journey in about 5 minutes.
Surprisingly, I only had to wait 10 minutes in the store before interacting with another human being. I handed the lady my phone. She agreed that it had gone crazy. She asked me a series of questions including how old the phone was. I told her that I bought it about 3 months ago, which she thought was "GREAT NEWS!" "That means it is covered under the warranty," she explained. At this point, I am like the excited puppy waiting for the treat you've hidden behind your back, thinking that I might actually get a new phone. And when she told me that they just had to send it in to technical service, I was that same puppy who is both eager, confused, and maybe a little sad when you drop the biscuit out of sight and show him your empty hands. She then told me that it would likely take anywhere from 3-4 days to repair. Forget cute puppy analogies. At this point, I was the old-yeller that they shot in the end. I don't know the exact conversion, but when Chileans say they will be about 15 minutes, it normally means closer to an hour. So by my Math, I should have the phone sometime in mid-July.
Nevertheless, she did give me a "loner" phone. Which is fantastic considering I have about one text message worth of prepay credit left on my original phone, and it probably wouldn't be worth it for me to charge my credit considering I don't have a single number from anyone who lives in Chile (because they were all on my other phone, which is now probably under the delicate care of a big, mullet-wearing Chilean named Rodrigo).
Yeah, fine, whatever. Take your time.
I walk through the drizzle to the bus stop. Realizing there are too many people to make the next bus even if it does stop, I decide to ask a taxi if the coins in my pocket will get me to the corner near my house. He says yes, I jump in, and then he tells me that he is going to wait for more people. Two more ladies hop in the car, and pay 500 pesos in advance to go further than wear I asked him to let me out. I originally asked him if 800 would do the trick, but since I had to wait for these other randos, and because he is not providing me metered taxi services and rather is acting as a colectivo (a shared cab with a set rate), I obviously think that the situation has changed. Worse, I miscounted my coins thinking that I had a 500 peso coin. So instead of just giving him 500 and having the upper hand when I jumped out of the cab, I had to hand him a bill worth 1000 leaving him to give me the change.
I was the first stop, and when I gave him the bill, as I half-expected, he gave me 200 back. I tried to argue with the guy, pointing out the obviously flawed reasoning in his payment system, but there were two other people in the cab and a line of cars honking behind me. Thinking it best to give it up and chalk it up to the stupidity that is Chilean thinking, I slammed the door and stormed off leaving them to talk badly about gringos once I was gone. In essence, the two broads who waited less and were going farther paid about half the price that I had to pay. Yep. That seems about right.
Just so that this post doesn't seem completely negative, I will leave you with a very blurry picture of some guy soliciting a prostitute... Because I think it's funny.
I'm going back to Buenos Aires with Lindsey on Saturday... Hopefully good wine, good food, and good company will hold me over until my next opportunity to escape from the city.
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