When the Travel Gods Have a Sense of Humour.
Day 27 – Laundry, and Other Miracles.
The next morning started early (again), 6:30 a.m. for our flight to Santiago. We arrived bright and smugly early… only to discover our flight didn’t exist. According to the airline clerk, we were booked on an imaginary flight. “But look,” I said, showing her my booking confirmation. She looked at me as if I’d just shown her a horoscope.
I took a deep breath (uncharacteristically calm for me) and let her work her magic. Thirty minutes later, we were somehow checked in, seated, and airborne. Miracles do happen, even before coffee.
We landed in Santiago in the late afternoon and discovered our accommodation was in the heart of the of the city. We’d unknowingly booked a shared apartment, kitchen, living room, the works, with a host named Victor, an elderly gentleman who greeted us like long-lost relatives. Within ten minutes, Victor had offered
sightseeing tips, restaurant recommendations, and, bless his soul, to do our laundry. After nearly a month on the road, that offer ranked right up there with divine intervention.
When I woke from a heavenly siesta, our clothes were clean, hanging to dry on a penthouse balcony overlooking the gorgeous Cerro Santa Lucía park. It felt like a reward for surviving the Atacama dust, altitude, and rogue flight schedules.
Before dinner, we strolled through the park, climbed to the top just in time for sunset, then wandered through the lively Lastarria neighbourhood, all lights, laughter, and irresistible smells.
The next morning, we swapped volcanoes for valleys and joined a tour to Cajón del Maipo, the favourite weekend escape for Santiago locals. Imagine Swiss Alps scenery but… more rugged, less polished, and slightly dustier, the Chilean twist. Our guide, Gonzalo, was a one-man show: part driver, part geologist, part stand-up comedian.
He drove the winding mountain roads, explained glacial formations, chatted with other drivers on the walkie-talkie, and cracked jokes… simultaneously.
I swear, the man is living proof that some men can multitask.
By the time we returned, I was equal parts exhilarated and exhausted. All I wanted was a shower, a pillow, and zero alarms. Tomorrow: we finally explore Santiago itself. Stay tuned… the city girl (reluctantly) returns!
*****
Days 29-30 – Street Smarts, Street Art, and Serendipity
We woke up to a grey, chilly Santiago morning, the kind that makes you want to pull the blanket back over your head and say, “mañana.”
But no, we had plans! And nothing, not clouds, cold, or caffeine deficiency, was going to stop us.
Breakfast was on the balcony, overlooking the majestic Cerró de Santa Lucia, which I’m convinced is Santiago’s way of saying, “See? I do have charm, just look a little higher.”
Our adventure began at Iglesia San Francisco, one of Chile’s oldest colonial churches. We arrived early (as usual) and discovered the most endearing kind of “bookstore”… people selling secondhand books spread out on blankets along the pavement.
As lifelong book addicts, we couldn’t resist browsing. We played our favourite game, “Read It, Haven’t Read It”, until Yoni let out a triumphant “Aha!”
He’d found one of his favourite novels in Spanish for under €3. I call it divine intervention… or at least literary serendipity.
The walking tour was full of surprises. I learned that Chile holds the record for the strongest earthquake ever recorded (because apparently, they like to do things thoroughly), and that they’re world leaders in earthquake-proof construction. Impressive, right? Santiago’s architecture is a mix of colonial elegance and modern ambition, and let me tell you, there are a lot of statues of men who are said to have “built” the city. By the end, I reached an undeniable conclusion: I’m definitely not a city girl. Give me wide skies and wild llamas any day.
Our grand plan to visit the pre-Colombian museum after lunch failed spectacularly when I fell into a nap so deep I might have travelled to another dimension.
By the time I resurfaced, it was dinner o’clock.
*****
Valparaíso: The City That Paints Its Soul.
The next morning, we set off for Valparaíso, the artistic, bohemian sister of Santiago, just 1.5 hours away. Think colourful hills, chaotic charm, and street art that screams revolution with style. Our bus, however, had other plans. In the first 45 minutes, we moved maybe 10 kilometres. At one point, I wondered if we were actually in a modern art installation about stillness. Just as I was about to tell Yoni we’d miss our tour, he casually dropped the news: “Oh, the tour’s been cancelled.”
Of course.
But when travel gives you lemons, you Google. Within 15 minutes, we had three alternative tours lined up, and the moment we booked one, traffic magically cleared. Clearly, the Travel Gods have a sense of humour.
When we arrived, we realised we’d need to walk through a neighbourhood that looked… let’s say authentically local. We decided to go for it, and the Universe rewarded our bravery with a jackpot: a bulk store selling nuts and dried fruits we’d been searching for in Santiago for three days. Moral of the story? Step out of your comfort zone; there are always almonds waiting.
Our new guide, Camilo, was an absolute gem, funny, passionate, and full of knowledge. He didn’t just show us street art; he made us feel it. Every wall, every stairway, every garbage bin told a story: history, protest, resilience, and colour.
Valparaíso isn’t just painted; it’s alive. Once the main port of South America (before the Panama Canal stole the spotlight), Valparaíso still proudly wears its British and German influences, though with a wild Chilean twist. It’s like a museum that got bored with being indoors.
By the end, I took about a thousand photos, and we treated Camilo to a classic Chilean “street lunch”: hot dogs. (Don’t judge… they were delicious.)
Speaking of dogs, Valparaíso might have the best street dog system I’ve ever seen. Every dog is vaccinated, chipped, and lovingly cared for by the community.
Shops leave out food and water, and little wooden houses with blankets are scattered around, and each neighbourhood has its own “crew.”
Chilean street dogs: 1. The rest of the world: 0.
The Bus Ride Home (aka A Lesson in Humanity)
Our return bus adventure started with confusion, because of course it did. We hopped on a local bus and asked the driver to tell us when to get off. He nodded. Then a woman behind us tapped Yoni’s shoulder and whispered, “This bus doesn’t actually go there.”
Before we knew it, half the bus had joined the mission to make sure the two clueless tourists didn’t end up stranded. Everyone pitched in with advice, warnings, and smiles.
And you know what? That small act of kindness restored my faith in humanity. Again.
We made it back to Santiago, tired but happy. The day had everything: art, adventure, history, heart, and a little chaos for seasoning.
Tomorrow, we’re crossing back into Argentina… Mendoza awaits! Hopefully, with fewer traffic jams and just as many miracles.
