Ben's Travel Adventures

Santiago, Chile

Chile is the Switzerland of Latin America. Chile is the Japan of the Southern Cone. Santiago is Zurich. Santiago is Tokyo. Valparaiso is St. Gallen. Valparaiso is Kyoto.

OK. This might be stretching it. Chile is still a developing country, with all that that entails. But it is striking to arrive in the country after time in Argentina and Uruguay -- it feels like arriving in Hong Kong or Japan after time spent in China and India. (Granted the contrast is not as stark; but then, nothing compares in intensity to India.)

The Santiago airport is clean and well-signed, and the personnel are helpful and professional. I got in a taxi at the airport, and he looked at my address, conferred with a colleague about the best route, then called the office en route to double check directions. The highways were exceedingly well lit (it was night time) and all traffic laws were obeyed to the T.

I spent the night with a friend in Vitacura, a tony neighborhood in the north of Santiago. The next morning I went for a run in this Atherton-style hood. The air was crisp and cool and the Andes mountains served as an unmatchable backdrop. (Think: Boulder Flatirons, except grander.) Again I noted how everyone obeyed crosswalk signs and how well marked everything was.

The next night L, D, and I shared a couple bottles of Chilean wine and several plates of tapas at a hip, loud wine bar (that turns into a dance club at midnight). Spanish was the common denominator, so I got plenty of practice. Wine always loosens the tongue as well, especially when it’s a foreign language.

Vitacura is not the real Santiago, so I spent the next six nights in an apartment in Barrio Brasil, a neighborhood near the center of town that’s full of students and nightlife and restaurants. It was an ideal location and the apartment set-up worked well as it allowed me to buy some groceries/food.

I took the same approach to Santiago as I did in Buenos Aires: walk around, more or less randomly. There was plenty to see, including ample mullets (the fashion choice of most Chilean young men), spontaneous dance protests in streets, school children, and more. I walked to the zoo and metropolitan park and to get there I had to walk through the Palestinian neighborhood. I know this because a guy came up and asked if I needed help (it’s happened three times so far in Chile; didn’t happen in Argentina or Uruguay) and he told me there are 70,000 Palestinians living in Santiago.

Food in Santiago is still heavily meat-based but not as much as in Argentina and Uruguay. Churrascos are the go-to. “Completos” are just hot dogs but with loads of sauces on top. The produce and fish are tasty, thanks to Chile’s coastal location.

The Santiago metro is the best I’ve ever used, anywhere (Japan is probably better, but again, Japan is a separate category). The trains come every two minutes or so; there are a million people standing around to help you through every stage; queues are formed and respected; the trains are trash-free and well-signed; and the coverage of the subway/metro is vast. You can get anywhere on the subway, it seemed cheap, and very user-friendly.

Pollution in the city? Yes, it’s there, and the smog and so forth is as advertised. But it wasn’t as oppressive as I expected. Some told me it would be impossible to run outside due to smog. Not so.

The city is segregated by class and in the nicer neighborhoods there isn’t much poverty to see or deal with. The wealthier suburbs are incredibly American-looking. Similar looking homes, trimmed grass lawns in front, etc. I was told that American ex-pats can live in one of these suburbs and feel right at home.

Bottom Line on Santiago: I love it.

Vigilance on the Travel Trails

A person traveling with me tells me that I am the most vigilant traveler she’s traveled with in terms of security precautions, preemptive battles against scams, etc.

Other than a passport issue in Switzerland four years ago but besides that nothing bad has happened to me. Never been robbed or mugged and nothing’s been stolen from a hotel room (even though I always hide my stuff under mattresses etc especially in lower end hotels).

I’m not sure whether this actually makes me MORE vigilant. Perhaps if something like this happened, I’d realize its big picture insignificance. Until then, it’s an “unknown.”

Either way, I think I have an optimal amount of vigilance – I do venture into dangerous hoods, countries, etc. just always try to be safe…

Culture of Intelligence in Chile

In metro stations there are bookshops and what appear to be mini-libraries. In Plaza de Armas there are at least 30 chess tables set up and lots of businesspeople wearing suits competing over their lunch hour. People read on the subway. Just three signs of an overall culture of intelligence that I notice in Chile.

Terremoto - Chilean Alcoholic Drink - Literally Translates to "Earthquake"

It's famous. There's a big scoop of ice cream on top. It only takes one.

The East Coast of Uruguay

Confession: I hadn't heard of Punta del Este prior to this trip. I soon learned how big time it is: rich Latin Americans, rich Europeans, rich Americans all descend on the Punta del Este beaches in the summer (January/February). It's the place to be seen.

In winter (right now), it's empty, but stil beautiful. Adrian and I drove there from Montevideo (two hours). We ate overlooking the water. Stunning views.

We spent the night in a neighboring ghost town (crazy expensive and packed three months of the year, empty the other nine months) at the one hotel that was actually open. The lady working the hotel was very motherly and sweet and Spanish-speaking only.

The following morning I went for an early morning run on dirt roads and along the beach. Quite lovely and tranquil.

Take away on the east coast: extremely seasonal (probably more so than the Jersey shore for example), beautiful, and much more real estate development yet to come.

Almost Missing My Flight from Montevideo to Santiago

This is the story of how I almost missed my flight from Montevideo to Santiago. All conversations occur in Spanish unless otherwise noted.

At 2 PM Tuesday in Montevideo I went to the front desk of the hotel and told them I'll need a taxi that night to go to the airport. He told me he could call a remise for me.

Every day in Latin America I’ve been trying to figure out the difference between a remise and a regular taxi. People tell me different things. Is it cheaper or more expensive? What’s the advantage to one or the other? I’ve heard a million contradictory opinions. I have no fucking idea which type is better if you’re just trying to get from A to B at minimal cost (ie, not a town car). I ask the hotel desk guy if it’s expensive compared to a taxi. He says it will be a little less expensive. I say ok – call the remise.

He asks for what time. I tell him my flight is at 7:45 PM. He doesn’t offer a suggested time of departure. So I ask how long it takes to get to the airport. 20 minutes. Ok. So I am working backwards, out loud, in Spanish. He doesn’t offer any help on timing. “Let’s see, get there at 6:45, so leave at six?” Silence. I say, OK, have the remise come here at 6 PM. He says he will.

I ask how much it will cost. He says 600 pesos. It’s my last day in Uruguay so I’m trying to use my pesos. I don’t want to take more out of the ATM because of the $5 transaction fee. I have 520 pesos in my wallet. I ask him if I exchange some U.S. dollars for pesos (via the hotel) to get me to 620. We do that.

Then I work online for the next few hours in the lobby area. It started pouring rain. Thunder and lightening.

At 5:50 PM I go to the front desk and a new guy is working there. He proactively tells me the remise is still coming at 6 PM. I wait in the lobby. At 6:05, the remise hasn’t called the front desk (as they’re suppose to do when they arrive), so I wait outside, and the front desk guy waits out with me. The rain has made quite a mess of the traffic. At 6:10 PM there’s a traffic accident (car rammed the side of another car) right in front of the hotel, blocking the street. Then, separately, a car alarm goes off and keeps ringing for 10 minutes non-stop. As George Costanza once put it, “The sea was fierce that day my friends.”

6:20 PM. No remise. No taxis either. Since it’s raining and rush hour, hailing one off the street was impossible.

At 6:25 PM the hotel guy calls the remise and gets told it’s not coming after all. “That’s ok,” he tells me after he hangs up, “That’s a really expensive car. Much cheaper to take a taxi.” He says he’ll call a taxi. Then, what I hear him say in Spanish is, “You should pay me something because I’m getting you a cheaper car.”

A taxi finally come at 6:45 PM. I get in. I tip the hotel guy and he tries to reject it – maybe I misheard him. Driver tells me it will be 200 pesos to the airport. I say ok. Takes forever to get there with the rain. Then again, maybe driver was “taking me for a ride”. We arrive at 7:15 PM. He says it’s 400 pesos. My international flight leaves in 30 minutes. I don’t have time to argue. I give him all the pesos I have left and run toward the terminal.

I find the check-in counter for Pluna Airlines. By this point, in my head, I’m already going through my contingency plans: where would I stay in Montevideo if I miss my flight? When is the next flight to Santiago? How can my phone-less self get in touch with my host in Santiago to say I’ll be a day late?

At the counter I learn they’ve closed the check-in for Santiago. I beg and plead. A woman comes out and yells at me for being late. I try to tell her the taxi was late. She fires up the computer and starts checking me in. She tells me I’m a bad person. I tell her the taxi. She keeps telling me, in English, that I am a bad person.

A woman comes up to me and says I need to pay her USD $20 to check my luggage. This seems like an absurd amount but I’m late, and not fluent in Spanish. The woman put the twenty dollar bill in her pocket. Nice. She gives me a luggage tag.

I get a hand-written boarding pass. Then I’m told I have to pay a country departure fee, which is par for the course in Latin America. I run to the departure tax fee window. I pay USD $30 departure tax.

The flight ticket cost USD $300 (one-way, for a two hour flight). Now I’d already paid USD $50 in extra fees.

I run to the security check-in station. As I’ve said before, security at Latin America airports is less a securing procedure and more of a “welcome to the gates!” exercise.

After taking nothing out of my bag and with my shoes firmly on I walked through the metal detector. 7:40 PM. My flight is supposed to leave at 7:45 PM.

Then I get lost. There are a gazillion duty free shops. Where are the planes? Panicked, thinking I’d already missed my flight, I yell to a security guard, “Donde esta las puertas??” He points. You have to walk through chocolate station after chocolate station, Johnny Walker stand after Johnny Walker stand. It felt like a Vegas casino with darkness and mirrors. Totally disorienting.

Find my gate. They haven’t boarded. Starving. I haven’t had dinner yet. I look for restaurants. None. I go back into the duty free but I don’t have enough pesos for any of the high end chocolate or booze. Eventually I find staircase leading up to a food court to buy a sandwich. I buy a triangular boxed sandwich – those disgusting kinds like they have in London. And agua sin gas. I then run back to the check in area and board the plane

The sandwich is soaked and the bread is so thin that I am basically gripping wet tomatoes in my hand. But I eat, because I’m a big man, and big men need food. Then I fall asleep, and miss the food service. I leave my umbrella on the plane by accident when de-planing.

At Santiago customs, I learn I have to pay a $131 arrival fee, because I’m American, and the U.S. enacted a similar fee on Chilean nationals.

And that’s the story of my six hours getting from Montevideo to Santiago.

Hunger and Bathroom Needs

I’ve gone TEN hours with no food. I’ve gone entire days with just a sandwich and a cliff bar.

I’ve gone hours having to go to the bathroom and not being able to.

International travel – where you don’t have access to a kitchen, don’t know where the clean bathrooms are, don’t know where the cheap/quick food options are (e.g. a Subway equivalent) – builds these capacities pretty well.

Latin Dancing

Latin people take their dancing seriously. Whereas the typical American, if he can dance at all, will only know hip-hop MTV style grinding, Latin people have a wider repertoire of moves. Salsa. Tango. 1-2 step (not quite sure what that is). And a million other variations.

There are also set expectations for how men are to ask women to dance whereas in the States it's more of a free for all.

At the one club/bar I went to in Montevideo, grinding was eschewed in favor of circle dancing, solo dancing, or other local variations.

Montevideo, Uruguay

Montevideo is a city in part defined by what it's not: it's not Buenos Aires. Tourists to Montevideo often are coming from BA or en route to BA and treat Montevideo as a stop-over. This understandably generates a certain amount of defensiveness on the part of Uruguayans. Tourists looking for flashy big city action are too quick to dismiss tiny Montevideo and all its humble charm, but locals, too, are too eager to point out differences or Uruguayn superiorites which flatly do not exist.

All in all, I had a lovely stay in Montevideo, and I would certainly consider living there. It is probably a city better to live in than visit, though even a short-term visitor like myself had plenty to do and see.

The relative smallness of Montevideo lends itself to walking, and walk it I did. I was staying in Ciudad Vieja (old town) but walking to the different barrios, or to the waterfront, didn't take long at all.

After arriving by ferry from BA, I met up with a reader who was super gracious with her time showing me and other friends of hers around town. We had coffee in an ultra-hipster cafe which implored on a sign inside, "Don't tell other people about this cafe." Which of course is wondefully counterintuitive viral building marketing.

At night we ate at a typical meat restuarant (meat is eaten perhaps even more in Uruguay than in Argentina) and then went to a house party / birthday party at an apartment. Fun seeing local and ex-pats mingle. As always the language of choice was Spanglish, or mostly Spanish. Always interesting to see how locals react to very American looking Americans. Some harbor knee-jerk resentment; others knee-jerk curiosity; others simply display a univeral friendliness to all comers. (Uruguayans are friendly folk.)

The following day I checked out the town by foot and then at night we went to dinner, then hung out at a park which was epic in its own way, then a bar with a dancefloor downstairs. Montevideo seems to have plenty of nightlife options -- BA seems to have almost too many options. But both Montevideo and BA start LATE and end LATE. Sleep deprivation: it's a way of life.

Along the way I had two chavitos, which is the national sandwich (how cool is that?) and kept buying more agua sin gas than probably anyone else. Thanks, diabetes.

Bottom Line on Montevideo: Come, visit, spend a few days, then head to the east coast. I'll be back, Uruguay!

Cordoba, Argentina

Cordoba is Argentina's second largest city. We arrived on a Sunday morning and it was dead. A ghost town. No one out. I think this is b/c Argentina's a catholic country so more stuff is closed on Sundays, and because they go out so hard on Saturday nights that people don't really get up until late afternoon on Sundays.

There's nothing "to see" in Cordoba but that doesn't mean it's not a pleasant place to pass a few days.

It feels more Argentinean than Buenos Aires -- fewer English speakers, more darker skinned/indigenous people, less cosmopolitan overall.

Highlights from Cordoba: going for a run on cobble stone streets, eating dinner at a super local place where an old woman told us the menu orally in Spanish, resting in the lobby of the Sheraton after walking around for several hours aimlessly.

Drinking Mate in Argentina

When in Argentina, be an Argentinean. And that means drink mate, the classic local tea that they drink like I drink 2% milk at home. Locals carry around a thermos of hot water and re-fill their tea throughout the day. Here I am, drinking mate:

Iguazu Falls

They are one of South America’s top attractions and they sit at the border of Argentina, Brazil, and Paraguay.

It’s a 1.5 hour flight from Buenos Aires, which I made with my hosts and Steve. You can also take a 19 hour bus ride.

The water falls put Niagra to shame. They are huge in every way – the total area is wide, the water rushes fast, and the fall / drop is very deep. In some parts you can’t see the water hit the bottom due to depth and mist that ricochets up from the falls.

Due to fog and rain we were not able to take the moonlight-walk tour in the evening. The benefit of the cancelled tour was an extra-leisurely buffet dinner at the national park where we talked and laughed and met a New York film editor who was also trekking through Iguazu.

The town outside the park is small but cute. We ate at the same restaurant for three meals. The restaurant plays interesting jazz/Latin covers of 80’s and 90’s American music. I had mate for the first time – the popular Argentinean tea that you fill and re-fill with a canteen of hot water.

Price Discrimination

So far I’ve been charged 10 pesos, 4.5 pesos, and 3 pesos at various locations in Argentina for the same size and brand water bottle. Not the price swing you’d expect for a generic.

Oh, to be a (white! rich! gringo!) tourist in South America….

Business in Argentina Gets Done in Cash…No, Really, Cash

You can’t get a loan.

Want to buy a house in Argentina? All cash, baby. All cash. 100% equity.

Want to do a commercial real estate deal for a million pesos? Bring a briefcase full of US Dollars. That’s right. A briefcase full of cash.

No joke. This is not a movie. This is business in Buenos Aires in 2009.

It’s easy to bash the banking / financial system in the U.S., especially after the last 12 months, but a few days talking to business people in Argentina reminds me we have much to be grateful for.

Buenos Aires

some quick musings and blow-by-blow, higher level thoughts to come later:

It’s a city with a lot of hype and very high expectations. I can’t say I was disappointed, which then says a lot. It does indeed have a European feel (architecture-wise especially), it seems livable and walkable, the people are friendly, there’s a nice water element, food excellent, etc. The people are attractive but not especially attractive. (Seriously – people talk about the women like they’re goddesses– not really.)

The nightlife is perhaps BA’s most noteworthy feature. Steve and I didn’t see it all but we did go out one night and got a sense. Here’s the deal: it goes on LATE. The clubs, bars, set-up is all the same as anywhere (with a few exceptions – you pay for drinks at a cash register, get a ticket, then go to the bartender). The main difference is how late it all starts and how long it goes till. Most nights you eat dinner around 9 or 10 PM. On weekends, you then might pre-game at around midnight, and get to a club at around 1:30 AM or 2:00 AM. If you show up at a club before 1:30 AM, no cover charge. You’ll stay till about 6 or 7 AM. Insanity. (Got offered cocaine in the club. first time. they must target tall white gringos. I was deeply honored.)

I spent at least 8-9 hours just walking around the city. It lends itself well to just wandering around – there aren’t any big attractions to see, at least in my view. No must-see museum or monument or market or square. There are a bunch of mid-level attractions.

The first day Nate and I walked around, checked out a flea market, ate a traditional sausage sandwich, took a bus, saw the widest street in the world, checked out Puerto Madero and the Pink House (where the prez works – like the White House). Second day I met a book/blog reader, walked around some more, met an old friend at a coffee shop, and enjoyed terrific winter weather (which is like SF weather in the summer). Some of the hoods feel like NYC SoHo.

 

Third day Steve arrived, and we….did more walking. laid out in a park. Korean food for lunch, pasta for lunch (even though we thought it was going to be a steakhouse), then the club.

Next day a blog reader showed Steve and I around. Walked through famous graveyard – some unbelievably ornate tombstones and the like. Lot of laughing and good conversation. One take away: poor countries face a really difficult brain drain. Their smartest young people want to leave!

Met an American ex-pat – got good run down on what ex pat life is like, biz environment, etc. Most ex pats come for low cost of living and nightlife, it seems.

Steak for breakfast, steak for lunch, steak for dinner. It’s good. i can’t tell good steak from bad but i’m sure it’s above average.

Swine Flu Mania in Argentina

Talk of swine flu has died down in the U.S., but in Argentina (where it's winter) it's all the rage and more. Exiting the plane in Buenos Aires we each had to wear a mask and then go through a health screening. Schools have been closed for a month. New restrictions have been enacted -- no children shopping alone in malls alone, a seat between each person at movie theaters.

To date, 50 people have died of swine flu in Argentina.

Every year, 10,000 people die of seasonal flu in the U.S.