Santiago, Chile, my favorite place in the world
Finding a hand sized piece of moldy bread in my bag confirms the obvious: I am a slob. A yawning slob on her way to a party she is not that excited for. Sandwiched in between people, or should I say on top of people, closer than melted cheese on a boiling burger. And here come the musicians with microphones and big guitars and bigger voices with the background of a salesman selling chocolate bars half price. Heavy accents and unpronounceable words, no half smiles or eye contact, trying to fool them with an rr roll. Fitting in has now become something I care about. Which is normal but disappointing. Careless drivers with cars filled to capacity and then some cruising and crusading down the highway; one risky swerve to pass city traffic. Smog disguises the mountains making you LOOK HARDER! There they are!