After the tour a small group of us including the guide headed to the pub for a few drinks. The sun was still up so it was warm enough to sit outside but the second it started going down it felt chilly. That’s one thing to note, Valparaíso is a lot colder than Santiago. I was caught out as I only had a very light fleece and a *windbreaker.
I sat talking to a young American couple from Nevada who were visiting the country for a couple of weeks before flying back. An English couple in their early to mid-thirties, she was a lawyer on sabbatical and he a currency trader and could therefore work from anywhere. They were on the tail end of their 6-month South American adventure. And finally, a couple of girls from Holland who had been studying at university in Buenos Aires, in Argentina for the year. They talked about how they’d had the time of their lives, In Buenos Aires and were huge Messi fans. They were now on a *whistlestop tour of Chile before heading back to Buenos Aires and then would be departing for home at the end of the year – they were both already sad at the thought of leaving.
Peter, one half of the English couple, *chipped in about Buenos Aires and said that it and Argentina overall had been his favourite place on his travels. When I asked him why he said, the people the food the culture, and just how cheap it was, which surprised me. He went on to explain about the blue dollar, something I talk more about in my Argentinian entry of my blog. He went on to explain how you can in effect double your money by transferring money to yourself to be picked up at a western union branch in the country…Argentina was calling me.
By this point and still hadn’t booked any accommodation for the night in Valparaíso, so I quickly booked a dorm in a hostel; I didn’t need anything fancy, just somewhere to get my head down for a few hours. The Dutch girls and the guide left before sunset and the rest of us, decided to go out for dinner. We chose a Peruvian restaurant, of which there are surprisingly a lot of in Chile, being by the coast this one had exceptional seafood. At around 1am in the morning the American couple sensibly called it a night. Peter’s wife also said she felt tired and wanted to head back. Peter asked if he could stay out for a night cap and she said fine. So, we walked her back and then had that night cap. But one *invariably turns into two and then before we knew it, we found ourselves in the street with a large group of students downing beers and singing along to a lively rock band. We then popped into a nightclub, as you do, but it was deserted so we promptly left. It was now really late, and Peter said that I may as well just crash at his, as the hostel may not even be open. Sounded like a good idea to me.
He was staying in a tiny one bed studio apartment. Sober me would have realised I was intruding, but drunk me just wanted to sleep. And I slept well, in fact I was dead to the world, until I was rudely woken about 8am by a flustered Peter telling me his wife, who was now in the shower, was furious that he’d got back so late. And apparently *the straw to break the camel’s back was that I had kept her up with my snoring. I don’t normally snore, I thought, it must have been the booze. I made my apologises, thanked him for the night and made a *mad dash for it before she came back out. Hopefully, he wasn’t *in the doghouse for long. Both lovely people I might add, so no hard feelings at all.
Kicked out onto the street, squinting from the bright morning light, my head felt awful. I knew exactly what I needed, I needed *the hair of the dog, just to make me feel semi-human again. I bought a beer from a convenience store and *swigged it back, before jumping the bus back to Santiago. I was sitting on my allocated seat when an old couple got on and asked me, well told to move so they could sit together. A woman about 30, a few seats up, gestured for me to sit with her. She didn’t speak English and my Spanish is appalling, so we did a lot of talking via translation apps. She put her headphones on me so I could listen to her music, and then she held my hand; I just went with it. She was smiling and kept my gaze, before I knew what was going on we were *making out passionately. This slightly bizarre and unexpected interaction continued for the rest of the journey; It’s amazing how things can escalate from a smile, sharing music, and a few translations. Perhaps, this is where I’ve been going wrong all these years, I thought; I’d been using words. Who needs words, words are just words after all, they fall short or are *misconstrued half the time.
Getting *amorous on a bus with a stranger admittedly was a first for me. Two lonely people just looking for a connection and a bit of excitement in that moment. What’s the harm in that? In the past I’d have said none, but I’ve decided that although I’ve had my fair share of *saucy encounters over the years, it might be time to respect myself a bit more, and not give away energy and love so freely. Giving into moments of lust, however much fun at the time, can *take their toll on you, especially if it’s been a while since you’ve had a meaningful relationship. Maybe, I’m finally growing up.
When we got off, we’d decided to go back to mine, but after about 15 mins of trying and failing to hail a cab or order an uber she gave up and decided to take another bus to her hometown, about an hour away. It was probably a good thing! We did try and keep in contact and even had a video chat but the breakdown in communication just made it too frustrating and I was just passing through after all.
So back to that Sunday. She’d gone, jumped on a bus back to her hometown. England were playing their first knockout game against Senegal that afternoon. Eventually, I did manage to get a cab and headed back to that very same Irish bar Flannery’s. All the same old faces from the last game were in there, plus lots of new ones. The place was *rammed again, which was to be expected. The upper deck was roasting hot. I sat watching the game *nursing a few beers while sweating profusely. England won 3-0 again, job done. A couple more beers after the game chatting to people and I was done – the heat on the balcony, very little sleep, coupled with the excitement of the match… of the weekend, I was spent physically and emotionally. And besides the heart monitor on my watch was vibrating and buzzing, along with the flashing red heart on the screen, warning me that my heart rate was abnormal; I’d clearly overdone it. I made my excuses and headed home, never to return to Flannery’s.
