I prayed for a friend and God answered my prayers

So my friend Thomasin hath clearly arrived in Santiago to travel with me. Not only is it great to have someone to talk to during the day, but it's even better to have someone who loves food just as much as I do. I mean I love food so much I want to take it behind the middle school and get it pregnant. We spent the first part of the day at Mercado Central which is the main fish market in Santiago. It was like being in the Grand Bazaar of Istanbul, expect much more, umm, Spanishy.

The seafood is caught fresh daily and looks and taste insanely delicious. It's best to avoid the big touristy places in the middle and head to the more dingy ones in the corner. Couldn't imagine having a cheaper or better lunch. And I highly recommend the Chilean specialty Chupe, a seafood casserole that's so much better than it sounds.

Things I learned today

So I just found out that my friend Thomasin's parents now have diplomatic status, so if anything happens to us in Chile (like unduly being thrown in jail), we got a special number to call. So with that said, tonight's agenda:

1. smoke some crack in the streets
2. punch a cop in the face
3. get a good nights sleep

Holy What Batman?!?!

Has anyone seen the movie Doubt? I'm watching it on my laptop in the lobby as I wait for Thomasin. It is terrible. And not in the good way.

My first two days: A Play

[interior of cab. Keith sits in the back trying to be inconspicuously and sexily Brazilian. Cab driver tries in vain to have a conversation]

Cabbie: Spanish Spanish Spanish America Spanish

Keith: [looking confused but trying to engage] Si, America. Atlanta. Obama

Cabbie: [thinking in Spanish "wtf?"] Spanish Spanish dias Spanish Spanish

Keith: Si, dos dias

Cabbie: Muy bien. Y Michael Jackson

Keith: Si, muy mal. muy muy mal.

Cabbie: 4000 pesos

Keith: [quickly pays the man and hops out of the cab] gracias [moonwalks into the Chilean night]

I'm starting with the man in the mirrroooorrr

So yesterday was my first real day of attempting to explore Santiago. It was mostly done by foot given that trying to decipher anything at the subway station was the equivalent of trying to read Ancient Sanskrit. This was partly because I don't speak Spanish, but, umm, mostly because I don't speak Spanish. Yes that is embarrassing, but I plan to be all kinds of fluent when I leave here.

Even though it is winter here, it's unbelievably nice. My itineraries are generally based on what Lonely Planet and Oprah tell me to do. I find that it's just easier that way. I walked through Plaza de Armas which is apparently where everyone in Santiago decided to go yesterday. I will hopefully make it back with a working camera to send pictures. Then it was off to the Museum of Pre-Columbian art. This museum features art and pottery that is, umm, pre(before) Columbian (Columbian). It's housed an insanely beautiful building right next to Plaza de Armas. I highly recommend to anyone visiting the city.

Then that night Henning (a friend of my friend Amelie) took me out to see the Santiagoan (Santiagoian? Santiagoooiean?) nightlife. Henning has the same freakish obsession with music as I do. It was like talking to myself. If myself were German. Henning moved here with his Chilean girlfriend and they started a delicious cafe in the centro. Es muy caliente!

Needless to say, by 4:30 in the morning I had experienced enough of Santiago's nightlife. I hurt right now and am sitting in the hotel lobby waiting for Thomasin and her late flight. sigh.

How Many Do You Count? 2.0

Much like in Australia, it's all but pointless to count the number of black people I see here.
Though oddly enough I met a black guy who is half American/half German, and it is okay to call him a mulatto. Who'd have thought.

But I digress. My new count will consist of the number of times I get mistaken for a Brazilian.

Count to Date: 1

So a Chilean, a midget, and a black guy get in a cab…wait stop me if you ‘ve heard this

so you can probably gather that I've arrived in Chile after a trip which started auspiciously. While standing in line at the Atlanta airport, I realized that I ordered the wrong type of rental car in Santiago. After correcting this, I attempted to board the flight to Madrid because I did not realize that there was a gate change. I just found out that my camera is only taking blurry pictures...oh and I don't speak ANY Spanish. But I'm trying to pass for an angry Brazilian, mostly by relying on my delicious sexiness.

Things can only get better since Thomasin arrives tomorrow at which point I'll have access to a working digital camera.

I shared a cab from the airport with a Chilean, a midget, and some random woman from North Carolina. I didn’t realize that they made midgets in Chile. Though I guess you can't make midgets. Wait is that racist? Is midgets the right term? All this thinking makes my head hurt