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.