After Nick left, Julie and I took a few days to relax in Santiago and tour a bit when the motivation struck. It’s a bustling, business-minded capital with an orderly European feel. The surrounding Andes make for a stunning backdrop when the smog that they trap doesn’t obscure them entirely – it’s one of the most polluted cities in the world. It was like walking through a smoky bar at times, but at least the transportation is efficient. Buses bullet through the wide boulevards, occasionally taking out an unsuspecting J-walker, and the metro is also fast and easy. Furthermore, there’s one main street – La Alameda – and it runs the entire length of the city, making everything from La Moneda (like our White House) to McDonald’s easily accessible.

The day that Nick was here, Julie insisted that us boys grab a quick drink in a “café con piernas” (café with legs), more for the experience than the beverage. Nick and I weren’t sure what to expect, but figured we might as well pick one of the shadiest ones we could find. Café Romeo seemed like a good one, though we couldn’t see inside. We walked in, ordered two Cokes at the front kiosk, and then wandered over to the bar, trying our hardest not to burst out with laughter. Nick and I weren’t exactly the normal clientele - these places were clearly meant for desperate businessmen in need of something to lift their spirits. We felt like perverts, but couldn’t flee in embarrassment at that point.

There were three girls total, all with tight, skimpy clothing that drew attention to their legs visible under the counter. One was deep in conversation with a customer and one looked like she could suffocate us with her bulging cleavage, so we headed towards the other. We sipped our Cokes and, after getting over the initial awkwardness, actually had a great talk. Very insightful. There are no chairs or stools in the cafes, so it seems the drill is to walk in, order a drink (non-alcoholic only, believe it or not), chat with the waitress, fantasize about the waitress, and return to work. Chilean culture at its best.

Julie knew about the “cafes con piernas” because she lived in Santiago during her junior year of college. The family that she once stayed with invited us over to dinner. Veronica, Julie’s home stay sister, cooked us a feast, and we spent the whole night eating and talking with her and her boyfriend, Jon Paul. The evening was also a casual Spanish lesson, and I’ve now added the very Chilean “cachai?” (ya know?) to the end of my sentences the way they frequently do. There was only one English word spoken that evening, which Jon Paul muttered after he found out I’ve done so much traveling at only 18-years old. The word was “goddammit.”

We met up with Javier, one of Julie’s local friends, to explore some more yesterday. We began at the cemetery, which was more like a small city within the city, complete with street signs and maps for visitors. Unlike the one in Buenos Aires, the cemetery in Santiago is home to common people as well as the rich and famous. The distinction is clear, however. Wealthy families have massive tombs with intricate religious statues while the poorer folk are stacked like school lockers. Beloved past President Salvador Allende has an impressive monument at the center. We walked around for a bit before the whole dead people thing got too creepy. On the way out, we stopped by the memorial for the innocent citizens who “disappeared” during Pinochet’s dictatorship. In this picture, Javier is pointing out his cousin’s name to Julie.

I couldn’t disappoint my Spanish teachers by not visiting La Chascona, one of Pablo Neruda’s three houses in Chile. The house is as eclectic as his poetry, designed like the inside of a boat. After that, the smog started to get to me…and Café Romeo was only a few blocks away.

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