Round trip Santiago de Chile: For Wendy

With stunning views of the snowy peaks of the Andes I arrived in Chile. I met Michiel, a student friend who left everything behind in Holland and came to South America to travel for an indefinite amount of time, in the hostel. When I arrived I asked the receptionist what her image of Michiel is, which she answered ''he sleeps, smokes, drinks and wakes up at 17:00.’’ This is how I know Michiel; Neither too active in the morning, but a hero at night.

Two days later Dennis arrived, a childhood friend who had some vacation days left and wanted to surround himself with Latina’s for two weeks. The three of us made a trip through northern Chile and northern Argentina that brings us eventually back in Santiago. On our first day, Dennis and I walked on the streets in the afternoon when we got invited for a coffee by a woman at a mysterious tent. The curiosity was stronger than our fear and we stepped inside. We walked into a room with scantily dressed women who wanted to give us companionship during our coffee, preferably in a private room followed by a happy ending. Somewhat uncomfortable we sat down and had to be strong not to get undressed. After the first few women had left a fat girl stepped up. She was the type of woman that you would not expect in a strip club. I told the woman that my friend found her attractive, her boobies came out of her bra and went straight to Dennis his face. Dennis pushed the boobs away, because he just wanted to read his newspaper. He stood up walked out of the coffee shop. This weren’t his type of girls.

A few blocks away, we walked past a comedian on the street that made the crowd laughing. A tall, blond tourist who walked past the group was perfect material for the street artist to make jokes about. The comedian started talking to us and the only thing I understood was that the comedian asked how long my friend was. I replied '' Dos Metros'. The people laughed and the man said something about a tall building, probably that Dennis was the only person who can jump on roofs of apartment complexes. From then Dennis has changed its name to '' Dos Metros' and he will ask for a name change to provide a passport from two meters tall, big enough to fit a real size photo of him in it.

In the evening we watched in a pub the football match Peru-Chile with great fanaticism by the Chileans. The 'Chi Chi Chi, Le-Le-Le, Viva Chile' song sounded regularly on the streets and when they cheered for a goal it could be heard in Peru. The fans had no negative comments on the referee or players that make mistakes, but only unconditional positive support to their country. The Chileans won and the supporters celebrated their victory in the streets. Dennis and I gave our support to Chile by singing a song in a karaoke bar, but sang horrible. Yet there were two deaf groupies who were impressed. We wanted to take bring the groupies in the hostel for a last drink, but the groupies weren’t welcome in the hostel. Out of anger they pulled out the electricity plug and attacked a hostel worker. Our fans seem to be difficult to contain.

From Santiago we flew to San Pedro de Atacama, a village in the middle of the driest desert in the world. This is an area like I've never seen before. The sand is so soft and untouched that you want to lay your head on it. The ground is so dry and barren that you feel like you're on the moon. And the sandstone rock formations are so fragile that you can break it with your hands, but are so raw and pure that you do not want. With a mountain bike we rode through the desert and experienced in this dry environment that your mouth feels like sandpaper after three breaths. Also you burn in no time, but you do not feel that because of a fresh breeze that makes cycling bearable. The hills kept coming and at every hill we lost some motivation. After 25km of suffering, but also intense joy, Michiel couldn’t persist anymore and wanted to turn around. A few jokes about beer and an imaginative story about moonstones luckily gave him one last push that took him to the last rock formations. The retreat was a triumph, because the road had adapted themselves to our energy level. An road with ups and down the way up changed into a descending way down.

On Saturday night you we tried sandboarding in San Pedro. In my mind I saw myself effortlessly boarding down the dune and merge into the partying crowd. Disco lights were lighting up the dune and the beats of Martin Garrix made from a couple of novice sandboarders a group of jumping teenager out. Once down, I would be honored for everything I did for the sandboarding sport and would be brought to the bar while crowd surfing. In reality, a construction lamp lighted up the area and there was music played, but that was it in terms of special effects. Nevertheless it was a great experience. I could actually make a few runs without falling and not going down in a straight line like a kamikaze rabbit.

For a good party in San Pedro you need connections, because all the bars close at 1 am and there is no disco. I longed for such an '' illegal '' party and went to a Bolivian birthday party, one of the most authentic festivals I've been to. Several South American music came over, often followed by an accompanying dance, and people danced, laughed and jumped together. I wanted to be part of this nuclear power plant of happiness and tried to dance like I have follow lessons of Bolivian dance for many years, I tried to talk Spanish as I was a native speakers and according to a Bolivian tradition I proudly ran around with a tie in front of my private parts. I got accepted by the locals and was not seen as an outsider. I felt South American here and not an European.

 

We crossed the border into Argentina and visited Salta. Once we got off the bus I saw many people look straight up as if they were searching for stars. In that case, someone tried to make eye contact with Dennis. There were also people who passed by and turned around their neck like an owl and almost put their nose in someone’s hair. Then they were impressed by the porn blonde hair of Michiel. I anonymously walked behind the blonde gods and watched how my friends got seen as gifts from God.
In Sao Paulo I met Belen. Belen lives in Salta and together with her sister and friend they led Dennis and me around their city. All three are musicians and earn their money with something they like to do. The girls were very laid back and shone much pleasure. We bought some beer and drank it in between the cows in the countryside. Would I have been sitting here alone with Dennis, I had kept my siesta here, but with so much female energy around I enjoyed myself perfectly. Even if we had put our picnic blanket along the highway or at the dump, I would have had a great time. The girls gave us beautiful visit card from Salta.

 

We went to Cordoba and basically all we heard about that city was that the women are very beautiful. I had rather heard that there are nice museums and delicious, healthy food, but we simply had to make a stop in Cordoba. However, we found a good art museum where Michiel and I studied each painting as real connoisseurs and tried to figure out what the thoughts of the artist could be. A painting called '' the force of nature '' of a smurf that was weightlifting with flowers was my favorite and I would have loved to hung it in my house, but unfortunately the walls of my backpack are too small.

Via a short stop in Mendoza we traveled back to Santiago from where we went to Valparaiso. The last time I was in Valparaiso I found it a great city, so I with my promo talk I created high expectations by Michiel and Dennis. An atmospheric, bustling city with many street musicians and art was the image I had outlined. Now however, it turned out that no shops couldn’t serve alcohol because of the elections. And with that the whole atmosphere disappeared. If it is true that alcohol is directly linked to mood, I should have stayed in Russia. Desperately we looked for a secret place where it was busy, but when we couldn’t find any we moved to the campfire at the hostel and went to sleep before midnight for the first time during our trip.

The next day we went back to Santiago because Dennis flew out from Santiago back to the Netherlands to work again with healthy reluctance. We traveled two weeks together in a very relaxed way, enjoyed the people and had a lot of fun together. ‘’Dos Metros’’ Dennis with a startup time of a Windows 95 computer and with frustration dripping of his face when he sits next to a Chinese man or when someone takes the seat  beside him in an empty bus. Michiel that is unable to wake up in the morning, even not with a chainsaw beside his head, whose spends his money for 90% on beer and cigarettes and who is keen on getting in a bar with unknown transvestites. And me that changes my shorts in the middle bus station and get caught by the police who tells that I scare people if they can see my boxershort. And me that organizes a trip to a completely deserted town. We were a lovely couple, each with our own characteristics that were of value.
Now I will stay for a while in Santiago to try to build up a life there. A different challenge I'm looking forward to it take. Learning the language, find work that I like and build up an income are my goals. I feel the need to be in one place for a while and will keep you updated on how my life in Santiago builds up. A less adventurous life, so probably I will write less stories, but you will definitely keep hearing from me.

Finally, I would like to share a sad story with you:
In the morning, I opened my phone and scrolled through Facebook until I felt my heart skip, I got a lump in my throat and started to breathe quickly. The discomfort streamed through my body and made my world stand still. I read that a travel friend of mine from Melbourne had been killed in a car accident in Western Australia. A girl I know as very cheerful, funny and energetic was suddenly gone. How was this possible? I could not contain it. Increasingly, I imagined how she unsuspectingly sat in the car, suddenly drove off the road and went in thirty seconds from dead to healthy. Death was so unreal to me, but suddenly came so close that I was beaten out of field for a few days.

I met Wendy when she worked as an au-pair in Melbourne. We hit it off right with our sarcastic humor and imaginative thoughts. She had the power to follow her will and push her boundaries every time which I found admirable for a 19-year-old girl. I remember how she naughty smeared paint on me, how she woke me up with a bucket of water, how she was amazed by the beach houses, how she spoke with love and passion about her four babysitter children and how she encouraged me to keep writing. She put me in touch with a travel website that she knew and thanks to Wendy's decisiveness they published a week later an article of me. As a gesture of gratitude, admiration and support I would therefore like to dedicate this story to Wendy. She gave me the push to write if I did not have the motivation and gave me positive energy when I needed that. Motivation and strength I will not soon lose when I think enough of you. Rest in peace…