Have you ever had the feeling that you were slightly out of phase with the rest of the world? That everything sortof seemed to make sense, but was off by just a bit.
That was how my first night in Santiago felt.
I speak quite reasonable Spanish by now. The people here speak Spanish. Or a form thereof. But not quite.
First, I got invited to a theatre performance by someone from Couch Surfing. It looked really cool, the stage was some sort of old worn down factory. And the actors were wearing working clothes and covered in grime. So far so good. Then they started talking. And I kinda lost it.
There was something with two people being in love, a woman in a red dress on top of the factory, someone getting killed and working in the factory. And most of the talk rhymed (that much I could gather). And then it was over.
Cool, being cultural in Santiago!
After that I was invited to a barbecue by someone I met in Mancora, Peru. Cool! Except that it turned out there was no barbeque. And I hadn´t had dinner. But luckily there was beer. And Pisco. Chilenean Pisco! Not to be confused by the vile drink that the Peruvians produce that they also call Pisco. Chilenean Pisco is obviously way better. And to convince me they kept topping up my glass. Which was a good thing. Because they were all talking in Spanish. Or I should say Chilenean. Rapid Chilenean.
There is something about sitting there and smiling. And laughing when other people are laughing. And saying ´si´ when someone is talking in your direction. And not having a single clue about what everybody is saying!
Cool, being social in Santiago!
Things did get better though! Time for dancing in a very nice club in down town. The Chileneans can´t speak. But they sure know how to party!
And to top things off…
The thing that everybody wants when abroad for a long time…
Making the coldest of hearts melt with happiness…
A taste of home…
The best taste of home…
Hidden between all the different kinds of drinks. Between the rum and Pisco and whisky and beer and other beer and even more beer.
My eye spotted something. Something green. Something familiar. Stashed away in the back of the fridge. A bottle of happiness.
Real, honest to god Grolsch beer from the Netherlands!
Life is good in Santiago.
Confusing, but good!