Yanquis in Latin America: Time to Santia-Go

I am looking back now, at the end of two weeks of travel and recounting the events that transpired...

Day Fourteen: I am well aware that the title of this post is incredibly cheesy, but I do not apologize for it. After a whirlwind tour of part of Perú, Chile, and Argentina, the Yanquis found themselves in the (then) rainy capital of Chile about to part ways for a while. BT and Chris were to fly north, eventually reaching Lima again so as to fly back to the States, and I was to hop on a twenty two hour bus ride back to the wilds of the Norte Grande.

It was cool and rainy the majority of our last day together, and as such we didn't go to the top of Cerro San Cristobal as I had planned, since we wouldn't have been able to see anything. I did have the opportunity to show BT and Chris around Bellavista, the bohemian-esque neighborhood at the base of the hill, and we all enjoyed a last lunch together at the one "Irish" pub in Patio Bellavista creatively named Dublin. The rest of the day unfortunately passed quickly, and rather uneventfully, and by six o'clock that evening there was a cab waiting outside the hostel to bear Chris and Brandon away from me. I gave them a cheat sheet of Spanish phrases to help them on their way back across the border into Perú, and then we bid our goodbyes. The trip had been too short, but packed, and we all three were sad to see it coming to an end. I was particularly sad because they were going back to the States with Taco Bell, real coffee, and English whereas I was going right back to Calama with its rocks, dust, and dogs.

After seeing the others off, I sat around the hostel chatting with Mike and Nick, learning that they were former marines who had been touring Brazil and Argentina for about six weeks before (neither of them speaking Spanish or Portuguese.) I did some catching up on the internet, and finally around 2200 set out in the light drizzle to take the metro to the bus station.

I slept the majority of the ride back up, and the only notable occurrence was somebody stealing my snack box while I was dozing. By 2100 on the night of my fifteenth day, I was back home, exhausted, and set to teach in two days. I met up with Ryan and we swapped stories and commiserated on our next four months in Chile's ugliest city. I later learned that Chris and BT made it back to the States without problems.

Thus did the journey of the Yanquis in Latin America quickly pass into legend.