In no particular order, here are my thoughts on Chile, traveling, culture, people, and dogs.
The day Becca and I left, my friend Michele (who lived in Santiago for about a decade) predicted that I would be surprised at how first-world Santiago is. And she was exactly right. Chile is a modern country with everything you'd expect from that and Santiago is absolutely a first-world, metropolitan city. Public transportation in the city (Metro) and between cities (bus companies like Tur Bus, who we used exclusively) was nothing less than surgical. Metro made San Francisco MUNI look bad and Tur Bus made Greyhound look really, really bad.
Admittedly, a contributing factor to the excellence of public transportation and to the image of Santiago and Chile as a whole was the complete absence of homeless people, crazy people, drug addicts, and other undesirables who wander the streets. We visited many neighborhoods in Santiago and many cities in Chile and during that entire time we saw one beggar and one crazy person. As a point of comparison, I see dozens of these types of people everyday during my walking commute.
I have no political angle here, nor do I have an explanation for how this has been accomplished; this is merely an observation. San Francisco is a beautiful, unique, welcoming city, but the problem with homeless and crazy street people is something I see everywhere I go. At the risk of sounding jaded or desensitized, it was refreshing to be part of a culture where that particular aspect was simply non-existent. I am legitimately curious as to how that came to be and if it's transferable to our culture at all.
After we came back to the States and I was telling people about all of this, my friend Pat's response was "You'd be surprised just how second-world San Francisco is." This was said in jest, but it's sometimes very true. The rose-colored glasses through which I view San Francisco have become more clear over the years and this trip was an unfortunate reminder of that. It's very humbling.
One of the aspects of Chilean culture that has stuck with me the most is how Chileans appreciate relaxation and are more leisurely than Americans (except when it comes to soccer or politics). The best evidence I can offer is the culture of meals at restaurants. All the waitstaff we encountered were very hands-off; once we received our food, the server never checked back on us to see how we were doing and never brought the check unless we asked for it explicitly. The result was a lot of leisurely and relaxing meals that went on for hours. I think it's this same attitude that explains why it's not uncommon for Chileans to take multi-hour breaks in the afternoons and explains the difference in nightlife. While Americans drink a lot of cocktails, order rounds of shots, and engage in binge drinking in general, Chileans like to enjoy their liters of beer over conversation or a bottle of wine with dinner. The initial reaction might be Why are these people so lame?, but perhaps the better question is Why are we so aggro?
Another fascinating part of the trip was witnessing (and interacting with) the population of stray dogs in Chile. I feel like I could write an entire entry on this topic alone, but I'll try to keep my thoughts on this brief. Everywhere we went, we saw a sizable stray population. On the whole, they were very muttsy, with most of them Labrador, German Shepherd, Golden Retriever, or Collie mixes. They were well-behaved in public; rarely did we see any of them acting out. They also appeared to be properly nourished; it was very rare to see a dog's ribs. And other than being dirty, the vast majority seemed to be pretty healthy; we noticed only a few that were a bit gimpy. My take on all of this is that it's a simple application of "survival of the fittest": if a dog is poorly behaved, or can't fend for itself, or is suffering from a serious health issue, it will not live very long, not reproduce, and not be seen (by tourists like us).
When we first arrived in Chile, I had the view that dogs belong in homes and backyards, not on the streets. But as we spent more time in that culture, this view softened. I began to see how all the dogs were furry, four-legged members of the community. It became normal to see dogs walking or laying around in the same way we saw people walking or laying around. Beyond being normal, it was borderline hilarious to watch a dog wait patiently at a crosswalk and then cross the street with all the people when the light changed. While the dogs in Chile aren't getting consistent medical attention, meals, or baths (unless it rains), they do have very free, unencumbered lives and there's something to be said for that.
On the other hand, it was obvious that the dogs were lacking something: companionship. When Becca and I would greet and play with the strays in all the cities we visited, they would latch onto us almost immediately. One minute of scratching and petting could buy you a new best friend for the afternoon. It was clear they were all affection-starved and would take every second of attention they could get. More than anything else, this is the biggest issue I have with a large stray dog population. Even though dogs in homes have lots of limitations placed on them by their human masters, they are (hopefully) given lots of love and attention, which they would never receive out in the wild. There's something to be said for that too.
After a few weeks in Chile and another month of reflection, I'm still conflicted about which lifestyle is "better". I see the pros and cons of both sides and I really can't say that one is better than the other. Even though I don't enjoy being on the fence like this, I'm grateful I had the opportunity to experience a culture that made me evaluate my preconceived notions.
On a more personal note, this trip was important to me because it was the first time I've had the backpacking and hostel experience. Even before Becca and I left for Chile, I had started making plans with another friend for some long-term, open-ended traveling (more details to come in a future post). At that point, the Chile trip became something of a litmus test of how well I could handle the style of traveling that is very active, mostly unplanned, highly flexible, definitely not luxurious, and prone to problems. For my sake (and the sake of my friend that I'll be traveling with next), I'm happy to say that I felt well-prepared for and even drawn to a highly minimalistic and mobile lifestyle. Sure, I enjoy having a home and comfortable things as much as the next person, but it's fun to have a nomadic and dynamic life for a while too. I'd like to thank Chile for being my warm-up lap.
It's really hard to sum up a trip like this without sounding trite or cliche. Literally every day presented us with some type of adventure, big or small. We visited so many interesting places and met so many great people that since we've returned to the States, we've been writing reviews on TripAdvisor, Hostelworld, and Wikivoyage in the hopes of assisting other travelers and steering business towards some people who really deserve it. I feel like the trip hit the right balance of sightseeing vs. living like locals, being active vs. being lazy, new food vs. comfort food, settling down vs. being mobile, and adjusting to a new culture while questioning our own. Oh, and wine. One bottle of wine a day seems like the right balance to me.
Finally, I have to mention the part of the trip that was the most important and had the most impact: my traveling buddy and very dear friend Becca. We've been very good friends for several years and this trip elevated that friendship to another level. We have similar easy-going personalities, which made traveling together incredibly easy and effortless. Becca did a lot of the research (both before and during the trip), was always accommodating (to my vegetarianism, for example), was happy to take the lead on conversations with locals (even though she's still learning Spanish herself), and was always up for an adventure or for sleeping in, whichever was appropriate at the time. In short, she was the perfect traveling partner and one of the few people in the world that I could have done this trip with.
It's been over a month since we got back to the States and I'm very aware that I'm only now closing the book on our trip. In fact, it's taken so long that it's starting to infringe upon the planning for my next trip. One reason is that writing all these blog entries and developing all the photos has taken a long time, which speaks volumes about how dense our trip was. The other reason is that I'm probably holding onto the past a bit because part of me still wants to be on that trip, which speaks volumes about both Becca and Chile.
And I wouldn't have it any other way.
The day Becca and I left, my friend Michele (who lived in Santiago for about a decade) predicted that I would be surprised at how first-world Santiago is. And she was exactly right. Chile is a modern country with everything you'd expect from that and Santiago is absolutely a first-world, metropolitan city. Public transportation in the city (Metro) and between cities (bus companies like Tur Bus, who we used exclusively) was nothing less than surgical. Metro made San Francisco MUNI look bad and Tur Bus made Greyhound look really, really bad.
Admittedly, a contributing factor to the excellence of public transportation and to the image of Santiago and Chile as a whole was the complete absence of homeless people, crazy people, drug addicts, and other undesirables who wander the streets. We visited many neighborhoods in Santiago and many cities in Chile and during that entire time we saw one beggar and one crazy person. As a point of comparison, I see dozens of these types of people everyday during my walking commute.
I have no political angle here, nor do I have an explanation for how this has been accomplished; this is merely an observation. San Francisco is a beautiful, unique, welcoming city, but the problem with homeless and crazy street people is something I see everywhere I go. At the risk of sounding jaded or desensitized, it was refreshing to be part of a culture where that particular aspect was simply non-existent. I am legitimately curious as to how that came to be and if it's transferable to our culture at all.
After we came back to the States and I was telling people about all of this, my friend Pat's response was "You'd be surprised just how second-world San Francisco is." This was said in jest, but it's sometimes very true. The rose-colored glasses through which I view San Francisco have become more clear over the years and this trip was an unfortunate reminder of that. It's very humbling.
One of the aspects of Chilean culture that has stuck with me the most is how Chileans appreciate relaxation and are more leisurely than Americans (except when it comes to soccer or politics). The best evidence I can offer is the culture of meals at restaurants. All the waitstaff we encountered were very hands-off; once we received our food, the server never checked back on us to see how we were doing and never brought the check unless we asked for it explicitly. The result was a lot of leisurely and relaxing meals that went on for hours. I think it's this same attitude that explains why it's not uncommon for Chileans to take multi-hour breaks in the afternoons and explains the difference in nightlife. While Americans drink a lot of cocktails, order rounds of shots, and engage in binge drinking in general, Chileans like to enjoy their liters of beer over conversation or a bottle of wine with dinner. The initial reaction might be Why are these people so lame?, but perhaps the better question is Why are we so aggro?
Another fascinating part of the trip was witnessing (and interacting with) the population of stray dogs in Chile. I feel like I could write an entire entry on this topic alone, but I'll try to keep my thoughts on this brief. Everywhere we went, we saw a sizable stray population. On the whole, they were very muttsy, with most of them Labrador, German Shepherd, Golden Retriever, or Collie mixes. They were well-behaved in public; rarely did we see any of them acting out. They also appeared to be properly nourished; it was very rare to see a dog's ribs. And other than being dirty, the vast majority seemed to be pretty healthy; we noticed only a few that were a bit gimpy. My take on all of this is that it's a simple application of "survival of the fittest": if a dog is poorly behaved, or can't fend for itself, or is suffering from a serious health issue, it will not live very long, not reproduce, and not be seen (by tourists like us).
When we first arrived in Chile, I had the view that dogs belong in homes and backyards, not on the streets. But as we spent more time in that culture, this view softened. I began to see how all the dogs were furry, four-legged members of the community. It became normal to see dogs walking or laying around in the same way we saw people walking or laying around. Beyond being normal, it was borderline hilarious to watch a dog wait patiently at a crosswalk and then cross the street with all the people when the light changed. While the dogs in Chile aren't getting consistent medical attention, meals, or baths (unless it rains), they do have very free, unencumbered lives and there's something to be said for that.
On the other hand, it was obvious that the dogs were lacking something: companionship. When Becca and I would greet and play with the strays in all the cities we visited, they would latch onto us almost immediately. One minute of scratching and petting could buy you a new best friend for the afternoon. It was clear they were all affection-starved and would take every second of attention they could get. More than anything else, this is the biggest issue I have with a large stray dog population. Even though dogs in homes have lots of limitations placed on them by their human masters, they are (hopefully) given lots of love and attention, which they would never receive out in the wild. There's something to be said for that too.
After a few weeks in Chile and another month of reflection, I'm still conflicted about which lifestyle is "better". I see the pros and cons of both sides and I really can't say that one is better than the other. Even though I don't enjoy being on the fence like this, I'm grateful I had the opportunity to experience a culture that made me evaluate my preconceived notions.
On a more personal note, this trip was important to me because it was the first time I've had the backpacking and hostel experience. Even before Becca and I left for Chile, I had started making plans with another friend for some long-term, open-ended traveling (more details to come in a future post). At that point, the Chile trip became something of a litmus test of how well I could handle the style of traveling that is very active, mostly unplanned, highly flexible, definitely not luxurious, and prone to problems. For my sake (and the sake of my friend that I'll be traveling with next), I'm happy to say that I felt well-prepared for and even drawn to a highly minimalistic and mobile lifestyle. Sure, I enjoy having a home and comfortable things as much as the next person, but it's fun to have a nomadic and dynamic life for a while too. I'd like to thank Chile for being my warm-up lap.
It's really hard to sum up a trip like this without sounding trite or cliche. Literally every day presented us with some type of adventure, big or small. We visited so many interesting places and met so many great people that since we've returned to the States, we've been writing reviews on TripAdvisor, Hostelworld, and Wikivoyage in the hopes of assisting other travelers and steering business towards some people who really deserve it. I feel like the trip hit the right balance of sightseeing vs. living like locals, being active vs. being lazy, new food vs. comfort food, settling down vs. being mobile, and adjusting to a new culture while questioning our own. Oh, and wine. One bottle of wine a day seems like the right balance to me.
Finally, I have to mention the part of the trip that was the most important and had the most impact: my traveling buddy and very dear friend Becca. We've been very good friends for several years and this trip elevated that friendship to another level. We have similar easy-going personalities, which made traveling together incredibly easy and effortless. Becca did a lot of the research (both before and during the trip), was always accommodating (to my vegetarianism, for example), was happy to take the lead on conversations with locals (even though she's still learning Spanish herself), and was always up for an adventure or for sleeping in, whichever was appropriate at the time. In short, she was the perfect traveling partner and one of the few people in the world that I could have done this trip with.
It's been over a month since we got back to the States and I'm very aware that I'm only now closing the book on our trip. In fact, it's taken so long that it's starting to infringe upon the planning for my next trip. One reason is that writing all these blog entries and developing all the photos has taken a long time, which speaks volumes about how dense our trip was. The other reason is that I'm probably holding onto the past a bit because part of me still wants to be on that trip, which speaks volumes about both Becca and Chile.
And I wouldn't have it any other way.
