loquitohermoso

And so, the time was nigh. Another holiday in the offing. Once more, this was largely based on factors that the average holidaymaker would never consider, the central one being “What’s the longest direct BA flight you can do with miles?”

It turned out that the answer, with a little adjustment for the whims of Mark, was Santiago de Chile. Interesting… not a place that would be first on my return list, but actually somewhere Ive enjoyed visiting in the past. Then a little adjustment around dates to coincide with reward flight availability, and we were off in September- right at the start of spring, therefore a bit cold for Patagonia but manageably warm up North.

Somewhere around 180,000 Avios, a premium companion voucher and 700 quid each… business both ways. Perfect!

The journey did not start in a particularly auspicious manner, with an incredibly slow journey to Bridgwater even by a bad road’s standards, then an aborted Click n Collect at the retail park and then virtually no time before the booked train. We lucked out in significant fashion however with a Latvian taxi driver willing to die for us in his pursuit of an on-time arrival, and after a series of questionable but ballsy manoeuvres we were actually early. Tip given.

Immediately upon arrival at T5 the feeling of “how the other half live” became apparent- straight to a dedicated bag drop and then through the fast track security to departures in 10 minutes flat, with pleasant staff who call you ´Sir´and don’t shout if you leave a tissue in your pocket.

We went first to the main lounge, bright and airy and with a great view of the planes, but definitely over-busy. All of the reviews say to head to the smaller lounge by the B gates, which is a great tip. A quieter, calmer and ultimately cooler space to while away the time. I didn’t need a shower, but I very nearly had one to tick it off.

What I did manage to tick off, however, was a vast range of alcoholic beverages. Free, innit? I think I never do well with buffets or free bars of any sort, the internal limits just kind of melt away, however I was more than able to drag myself onto the plane a few hours later.

It doesn’t take much to keep me happy. We had boarded one of the older configuration 787-9s for the 14hr slog to Santiago, BA tend to use these on the routes where they don’t have much competition but are slowly upgrading the fleet to the newer Club Suites. This is still a pretty comfy deal though, aside from a few switches not working.

Premium flights are all about the details… significantly nicer food with no carts, served to you with tablecloth and all of the trimmings. Having experienced the utterly rubbish end of BA service on a flight to Cape Town a few years ago, this was refreshingly different, with wonderfully attentive and friendly service from the Cabin Director, with several more wines and cocktails forced upon me, honest.

With a 6ft lie-flat bed, theres also the chance of a decent bit of sleep. If, of course, you had been sensible about choices and drunk a bit more water. I awoke from a few hours of sleep with a mouth like the Atacama and a feeling which wasn’t immediately apparent, however I quickly realised was a monstrous hangover. Whoops.

We touched down in Santiago shortly after 7am, to a cold and cloudy outlook. Whoops, this was meant to be spring. An uncharacteristically efficient South American airport experience however left us curbside in about half an hour, after I had resisted the incredibly strong urge to fuss the cute drugs Labrador.

Our ride to the city was the first of many generic Chinese cars, and a chatty Venezuelan driver. I love talking to non-English speakers, you get by, they never interject with the right words and never pull you up on shoddy Castilian grammar. I learnt a lot about her family and situation in the hour long drive from the airport to hotel.

We had lucked out here. I’d pondered hotel choices repeatedly over the months leading up to departure day, but then found a great last minute deal at Hotel Magnolia near the financial district. The design buff in me really took to the elegant restoration of a grand old building, the alcoholic in me was exceptionally impressed with the free bar.

As business class passengers staying in a design hotel, naturally we could only partake in cultural Santiago activities so headed straight out for a coffee at one of the galleries.

After that we, in hindsight, immediately found the golden goose of Chilean lunch deals, in a buzzy little bar, with an outstanding three course meal including sushi, paired with a Pisco Sour to start proceedings and an enormous glass of lovely wine for about a tenner each. I still haven’t managed to replicate this amazing bargain.

I loved wandering around Santiago. I was last here around 2012 and I don’t think I fully ´got´it. There is so much amazing urban design everywhere and a good atmosphere. Chileans aren’t as animated as their Argentine neighbours but nonetheless it’s a pleasant place to wander and watch.

I was glad to have 3 nights in Santiago. Quite apart from the very comfortable hotel it took the pressure of sightseeing away, with plenty of time to wander and absorb, old and new alike.

There was one place that I badly wanted to return to…Cerro San Cristobal, a towering Andean spur in the heart of the city. Take the air and a Huesillo con mote… a weird drink by any standards which Mark didn’t really take to. Yep, that’s a peach.

Whilst on the top a religious service was going on, having reached our fill of Hail Maries and in fear of some form of conversion we continued back down to the city via Teleférico.

I’m not going to trouble you with any old hack ¨City of Contrasts¨nonsense however returning to the city was a very quick transition between countryside and megacity, with the constant backdrop of the Andes to remind yourself where you are…pretty high up too. Pollution isn’t great on days like this.

Our days in Santiago were a blur of wandering, eating and then wandering some more. A somewhat pricey and underwhelming lunch at the Sky Costanera above, but hey, it’s all location, and a frankly epic steak and Pisco at a nearby Peruvian joint. Sadly, one half through time and one half through limited engagement by himself, we didn’t manage to patronise this Bill Clinton-themed restaurant.

And so, a very pleasant 3 nights in Santiago came to an end, and it was time to head back to the airport. My Venezuelan friend had offered a transfer but at a somewhat exorbitant rate, so Uber it was.

Hernán pulled up in his generic electric Chinese saloon, as is normal here, and, as with our Venezuelan lady, asked me to sit in the front. As we pulled away, I asked him why this was.

He explained that Uber was, if not quite illegal in Chile, in the process of becoming illegal, and that the Carabineros operated regular checkpoints on the way to the airport. Therefore, if stopped, I was not to speak Spanish, and I should tell them he was a friend. OK then!

Hernán was one of the most interesting people I had chatted to, born and raised Chilean with a formal education in California therefore no need to burn out my foreign language brain with complex Spanish political discourse.

Sure enough, despite his best efforts to ”hide” behind another car, we were pulled over. Thankfully the stern lady cop immediately identified that his registration had expired-to be fair this seemed to be news to him also- therefore no lying to armed foreign Police was required, but we did need to continue the final mile walk on foot.

Them’s the breaks. Time to head North.