Over the Andes

I rise at 6:30 and head down for brekkie with Alexei. Our flight is at 10:55. Don’t want to be late for it.

It's bit early for bacon for me. I stick to just fruit. Plus coffee and fruit juice. They've got cashew juice this morning. Something I've never tried before. It’s slightly weird. Perhaps I’m just not accustomed to it.

We jump in an Uber a little after 7:30. It delivers us to the airport around 8:30. And go to check in. I was dreading this a little. As we're flying with LATAM. With whom I had a really bad experience a couple of years ago.

I had over four hours between flights in Sao Paolo. But it took so long to check in, I only got to the gate five minutes before boarding.

This time, it works out fine. And soon we're going through the priority security lane. Then priority passport control. It doesn't take long.

Not having lounge access, we trail out to the gate and take seats. Thankfully, it isn't as long a walk as on the way in.

Priority has us as some of the first to board. Which is cool. It’s great being an oldie person. Health and fitness excepted.

The flight is around 5 hours. In the last bit we get a great view of the Andes. Though we only seem to be a couple of hundred metres above them. 

“Dad, what would you do if we crashed up here?”

“What do you mean?”

“Would you eat people.”

“If I had to to survive, yes?”

“Would you eat me?”

“You’d be the first in the pot.”

I read most of a Private Eye. Andrew just sleeps, while Alexei watches House on his phone.

Immigration is a bit of a nightmare. I’ll be honest: a lot of a nightmare. Pretty much total. The queues are very long. So long, that our transfer has given up waiting. We contact the company by Whatsapp, and soon our driver is back.

Not knowing how the taxis work here, I booked a transfer online. I didn’t bother in Rio, as I know how the taxis operate. You buy a voucher first and just hand that to the driver. No cash involved.

There’s a great view of the snowy peaks of the Andes as we pull out of the airport. Then bump and grind for almost an hour along the motorway to our hotel. Making a mental note of just how long it took.

Our hotel is in an impressive building on an impressive street. Most of the houses, like the hotel, are in a sort of medieval style. Stone faced with arched windows and stained glass. Really rather beautiful.*

After checking in, we go off in search of food. I made a map of nearby beer places back in Amsterdam. Most are around Avenida Brasil. A palm-tree-lined boulevard just around the corner, ending in a small square.

Due to a navigational error, we walk parallel to it, rather than towards it. Which throws me off. I can’t spot any of the spots after a bit of wandering around. Feeling knacked, we just go somewhere random.

Which is a place called Springfield. Quite a big pub. It’ll do.

“Have you spotted the theme here?” I ask. “I think it might be Simpsons related.”

“Very funny, Dad. What about getting us some beer?”

Draught Heineken for the kids again.

“What is it with all the Heineken?”

“Can’t we drink what we want?”

“I suppose so.” I reply, begrudgingly. “You could try some local beer.”

“I will. There’s plenty of time.”

I go for a pisco sour. I also have a go-to cocktail in Chile. I’m such a sophisticated chap.

“You’re not even drinking beer. And don’t claim it’s the hot climate making you drink cocktails.”

“It is a local cocktail, made with local ingredients.”

“Still not exactly cocktail weather.”

He’s not wrong. It’s decidedly nesh. Quite a shock after Rio. It’s like going from summer to winter overnight.

There’s no printed menu. Just a QR code. Which I hate. We’re endlessly scrolling back and forth. I give up and just plump for a ceviche. Alexei follows suit. Andrew isn't hungry. 

The ceviche is dead good. Quite acidic, but really tasty. Way better than I expected in what is basically a pub. The pisco sour is pretty poor. Didn’t stop me getting a second one, though.

Supermarket time next. For beer, crisps and rum. 3-year Havana Club is under 8 euros. Fucking bargain. You should see how Anrew’s little face lights up when he sees the price.

Except at the dog park the bag’s handles fail and the rum bottle smashes. I bravely volunteer to go back and get a replacement. Despite feeling totally knacked.

We drink a little beer and rum back in my room. But don't leave it too late as we're all knacked.

I make sure the heater is on before turning in. It really is quite chilly here in Chile.


* Rather surprisingly, the Concha y Toro neighbourhood was only built in the 1920s. Its curving streets and unusual layout were intended to resemble an ancient European city.


Springfield 2 RestoBar
Av. Brasil 150,
8340510 Santiago,
Región Metropolitana.