Ours was not a tour, but an individual trip: Jean and I would be on our own, rather than traveling with an organized group. Guides or drivers would meet us at designated locations and transport us to hotels and airports, etc. After that we'd have to find our own way. I wasn't entirely certain this would always happen but was interested in seeing how well we would manage!
Right away, a slight hiccup in my plan happened in Santiago, of all places. Tired from the long flight, I wound my way through the endless line waiting to get through immigration. All went routinely until I made it to the very front of the line. At that point, a Chilean policeman indicated I had to show I had paid the $100 entry fee into the country before I could pass through the immigration booth.
Foolishly, I had assumed I could hand over the fee once arriving at the booth. But no, this wasn't the case. I had observed no obvious signs for foreign travelers before joining this long wait. Annoyed, I made my way back behind the start of the entry lines. Finally, I found an obscure poorly marked window where Americans must pay the $100 mandatory fee.
Aware of this nuisance fee, back home I had deliberately gone to my bank and picked up new $50 bills, since in many foreign countries new bills are demanded. However, at this booth, when I gave her these new bank-secured bills, the clerk refused to take them. In Spanish she stated that my new bills were printed with A and C markings.
"They could be counterfeit," she said as she returned them to me. She would only accept bills with B markings, she said firmly. What if I didn't have any, I started to say. Digging around in my wallet, I found two slightly older $50 bills. Luckily, they were printed with the required letter B. She took them. (I meant to go back to my bank and tell them about the counterfeit accusation. Haven't done that yet.)
Emerging late because of this delay, I headed anxiously toward the noisy throng of waiting sign wavers, hoping my guide would still be there long after my flight had arrived. No problem.
A large sign "Hiebert x 2" was visible in the waiting throng. My Santiago guide, Gustav, was smiling at me. I have to say this sign became a standing joke between Jean and me by the time our trip ended. The familiar words "Hiebert x 2" met us at every destination, and similar signs perched on dinner tables greeted us at hosterias all along the way. (Jean said she felt truly neglected.)
I met her at the Orly Hotel, a charming little boutique hotel located in the heart of downtown cafes and shops. Our trip to Patagonia was about to begin—and many adventures awaited us.
But first, we enjoyed the requisite Santiago tourist stops. Our guide, Gustav, led us through a walking tour of the plaza and the busy shopping district. In our private car we passed by stately old mansions converted into universities and businesses and rode up Corcovado Mountain where the funicular climbs. We capped off the city tour by spending a few quiet hours in the spectacular Pre-Columbian Art Museum. Its cool nearly empty rooms and beautifully presented artifacts provided a leisurely introduction into the history, culture, arts and crafts of a fascinating period of South American history. I would recommend it to anyone as one of the most well-designed museums I've encountered.
[Go to Patagonia Part Five]
