shit on the bus and on to the mountains

They don´t let you take shits on the busses and it was nice to get (and hold) a powerful diarrhea 2 hours into our 11 hour bus ride from Santiago to Valdivia. Luckily since everybody was passed out I managed to get to the back and sneak a little squirt, otherwise I would´ve burst by hour 6. The sleepless ride left me bed hungry by the time we got to the little wood hostel, which was very near but felt like home and had a duck and a rabbit in the backyard. The duck was an asshole and the rabbit cuddled with Ally and Lizzie in the morning over coffee, exposing the fact that Duck bit the top of Rabbit´s head (he had a small bald spot).
Santiago was awesome and we saw a museum showing artifacts from the Myans and Incas and all those cultures. COol to see the way that art penetrated every aspect of their lives. Before this museum we had coffee at Cafe Haiti. Ally said it was a coffee shop for men and Lizzie disagreed. The facts: relatively unattractive women wear schoolgirl outfits with lots of cleavage and stand behind the counter. You give your ticket for your coffee and they bring you a small glass of sparkling water with your drink and you stand and smoke and if youre an older man they probably flirt with you.

Saw late night jazz in a VERY sketchy part of town at a place called Thelonius, right next to a giant strip club. It was a monday so we think it was not the night for the best players - 4 nerdy dudes jammin, but they did ok even though Lizzie and I fell asleep. (We´d been drinking for hours in celebration of Ally´s birthday).

Drinking earthquakes at Piojera, a very old looking bar where you might go after your wife leaves you or if you´re 50 and you wanna get drunk at 1pm or if you´re young and you wanna smoke and get drunk and eat cheaply. The earthquake is basically sweet wine with ice cream inside. A little dash of something else on the top, and you just let the ice cream soak in. Ally took one sip and then refused to touch it again, though we forced a little down her throat. Lizzie was really into it, i hated it and i cite it as a source of the diarrhea. The best way i can describe this bar is this: i asked a guy on the street where Piojera is and he said, very concerned, "You´re going alone? You´re going alone?" and then he made a motion with his finger across his neck...like i might die in there alone. Also, everybody in Chile consistently gives you the wrong directions. it was disastorous but allowed us to get to know the city better.
santiago, being my first stop, got me hungry for those strange adventures when you travel and the days open like 1 liter bottles of beer, poP! and cities with smog, valparaiso with trash tornadoes whirling at your feet and ocean air smacking you in the face from Pablo Nerudas house high in the poetry of the hills, street art splashed everywhere, people with real lives and you pass them disappearing, cramming it all down your throat, shitting it out in public bathrooms where you cant flush the toilet paper, bottles of wine for 10 bucks and 1am meals, cloudy smoke, lucky strikes, mad men, wired, talks of future, silence and new strange things bubbling, trees in the streets, hills on the hills and castles in the middle, Andes jagged in the east, weird british dude in your hostel jumping from the top bunk at 8am in nothing but briefs watching extreme sports, a late night smoke with lover on the rooftop with jazz dripping from the speakers in the streets into the city which soaks it all up and squeezes you out the next morning drenched in desire for more more more, and you see on the Road in a hostel on the bed and your friend just bought an rv and writes of the road and everybody talks furiously over wine and beer, curiouser and curiouser cus they played alice and wonderland on the tv with hoochie coochie man blasting on the speakers