Chile Part I

Just a few days ago I was sitting in a lounge chair on the beach in Vina del Mar, Chile, sipping a Pisco Sour and chatting up Chilenas. Right now I'm at a Hampton Inn in Detroit watching snow fall outside my window and drinking a tepid Bud Light. There's not enough moderation in my life.

I had business in Santiago, Chile for a week then extended my trip into the weekend so I could visit Valparaiso and Vina del Mar, sister cities on the coast in central Chile. The trip was a series of comical misunderstandings and linguistic catastrophes. Enjoy a few laughs at my expense.

The trip started out OK. My business went well and my coworkers were a really cool group of guys who enjoyed the socials benefits of Chile's relatively new economic success. I would like to say that they worked hard and played hard, but warm weather and a lax South American work ethic conspired against us until we caved to our vices.

For the first few days we actually pretended to work. We walked construction sites, met with architects, studied blue prints, and even identified a few major (and potentially dangerous) construction issues that would keep our lords at bay and justify the truck loads of money we were spending. However, on Wednesday morning Pablo, my coworker and host, explained that we would be going to "After Office" that night, and that I should dress for a night on the town and expect to call in late, if not dead, the next morning.

I won't get too bogged down in details, but After Office was like happy hour on steroids, replete with bottle service and a host of beautiful women from Chile, Peru, Bolivia, and Colombia. Ironically, I ended up meeting a tall blond girl from Canada, of all places. We chatted for a while but she was there with some dude who was friends with our pal Lermo, so nothing happened.

Later in the night I met some little Chilena and we made out in the bar, as is customary there. As the night wound down she said "Ok, we go take taxi now?" which I couldn't believe. Sure enough we got into a taxi, she asked where I was staying, and she said a whole bunch of things in Spanish to the driver. We made out in the backseat while we drove along. After ten minutes the driver stopped. I looked around and we were in a residential neighborhood VERY far away from my hotel. I said "Where are we?", and she explained we were at her house. I said "I can't stay at your place, I have to work in the morning, you have to come to my hotel". This was not going to happen. Basically, I had misinterpreted the entire scenario. There was no chance I was going in with her, or that she was coming back to my hotel. She needed me to pay for the cab, and nothing more. Chalk one up to the Chileans, I got hustled. However, the let down was nothing compared to the ball breaking I got the next morning from the guys at work, who laughed their asses off at the story, and my thinking that I was going to get laid so easily in Chile. It was truly a ruthless lunch. They were all doubled over laughing at the cocky Gringo.

Thursday night we went to an Irish Pub in Santiago to celebrate St. Patty's Day. The Chileans didn't know or care what the holiday was about, but there a lot of expats there and drinks were 1/2 price all night. Since we hadn't eaten dinner we got pretty drunk and rowdy quickly. My Canadian friend was there again and I got to telling her about my plan to go to the beach the next night. She said it sounded like a good time so I invited her along to join me. She said she was down so long as I could get her back to Santiago Saturday night. This was not exactly what I had planned, but I said I could do that.

I got separated from Canada and ended up dancing with yet another Chilean girl in the middle of the bar. At 1am I looked around for my friends and couldn't find them, so I grabbed my little friend and we left together. She spoke almost no English, so in my ridiculously poor Spanish I asked her if she wanted to come back to my hotel with with me. She said a bunch of long sentences in Spanish, in which I was able to recognize the words "hotel", "house", and "taxi" several time. Now pantomiming and speaking in rudimentary English and Spanish I explained that I wasn't going to cab her to her house, then go home. I said she could back to my hotel and we could go swimming together (the closest thing to a hot tub offer I could extend) or we could say good night and go our separate ways. And with that she broke down crying.

I felt badly and said I would give her a ride home, thinking that's what all the tears were about, but she somehow conveyed that she was crying because she wanted to see me again and I was leaving the next day. She kept saying "Sunday, you, go, home!" and would make a motion of a plane taking off and flying away. It was kind of funny, actually, but I couldn't sit there at a bus stop all night with this little crying chick. I was sweating my ass off and drunk as hell. After 30 minutes of that nonsense I hailed her a cab, gave him a fist full of monopoly money, then found a cab for myself.

The next morning my head felt like someone had thrown a hatchet through it. I was up at 6am so that I would have enough time to pack and make an 8am appointment. I staggered into my hotel lobby, fired down two double espressos and some greasy eggs, and made my appointment on time. The hotel was abuzz because Obama was staying there in a few nights, and I spotted lots of US Secret Service, which actually made me feel a little at home.

Later that night I would catch a cab to Valparaiso. While I was in the lobby waiting for Pedro to pick me up ME sent me a text saying her period was five days late.

More to come in Part II.