Clare writes:
Whew! It's wierd to be in Chile! Chile! Wierder still to arrived here about four hours before we left New Zealand. That's the International Date Line for you! I'll bet it's still last Tuesday somewhere out there... or did I say that already?
Arriving in Santiago from the air we saw layers of mountains seperated by mist or cloud like tissue paper between all laid out for us, and beyond the local mountains the snow-capped peaks of the Andes. The city is on a dry, flat plain and busy but quite European-feeling apart from the odd gaucho or Indian wandering past. We're in a huge acid-yellow hostel room with no heating and in that wierd jet-lagged sleepy/wakeful/hungry/ill stage, also both fighting colds, but don't worry - it's not La Gripe Porcina (Spanish for swine fever... all their diseases have more poetic names... yellow fever is La Febre Amarillo). Anyway, I'm rambling and I need to collect myself, like a slightly battered parcel.