The bus from Mendoza got in a little late, 4:15 instead of 2:30.  I caught a cab from the bus terminal, all the way across town to Hotel Atton el Bosque.  Apparently there are an odd number of males, in the group, and I got a single room, instead of the double I was expecting.  The group had already headed out on their city scavenger hunt, so I decided to check out the city on my own.  Hopped the metro to the city center, getting off by Cerro Santa Lucia.  A dreadlocked Chilean approached me, and we chatted for a bit, my Spanish impressed me.  He had all sorts of tips and suggestions on what I should do in the city, restaurants for good sea food and wine, what neighbourhoods were good to party in, which museums were worthwhile, etc.  He hit me up for a tip, for all his tourism guidance, and I gave him, the equivalence of a dollar, he said he was raising money for school, but who knows, I more appreciated the opportunity to practice Spanish.  The chicken scratch notes he wrote for me are basically indecipherable.  So then I headed up the Hill of Santa Lucia, a beautiful park.         It reminded me of Tom Sawyer’s Island at Disneyland, lots of rocky outcroppings, and lush plants, with little hidden stairways, paths, and fountains all over the place.  There were things to discover around every winding turn, the chapel like tomb of Mackenna (a Chilean writer, journalist, historian and politician who died in 1886), and a castle like turret at the top of the hill, with views of the entire city, and the Andes, hazy with smog in the background.  I don’t know if the site has mystical powers to emit teenage hormones, but I couldn’t throw a rock without hitting a teenage couple sucking major face.  I started counting but quickly hit double digits and lost track.

I headed to Plaza de Armas, the city center, passing through what must have been the optometry district, with eyeglass stores for two blocks.  The square was packed with artists, musicians, and political supporters on bull horns, garnering support for the presidential election next week.  There was a pudgy guy with down syndrome sitting under a statue playing a recorder flute, I kicked him a few pesos.  A tween Chilean girl approached me, because with my tie-dye and shag, apparently I stand out as an American; she just wanted to practice speaking English and chat a bit.  There’s a promenade on one side of the square that has a row of restaurant stalls – all selling hot dogs.  Hot dogs and amorous teens, that’s what I’m taking from Santiago on day 1.  I popped into the massive cathedral on the plaza (Chileans love their Catholicism), and admired the statues and stained glass, then I headed back to the subway (very clean, with lots of security) and hotel.  It was around 8:30 at this time, and I had a message on my room phone from Professor Horowitz that people were meeting in the hotel bar for happy hour.  I headed down and had a pisco sour with Dave (prof. Horowitz), and the three guys in the program who apparently didn’t have jet lag.  A few more showed up later, and after picking up some 6-packs and Pizza Hut (this crew tends to  seek out the comforts of home rather than dive head first into the local culture), we moved the party upstairs to a room.  I am the oldest guy on the trip by far (one guy was in my bro Scrooge’s class at SI), but everyone is friendly and fun.  As the old guy I packed it in early at midnight, but apparently the party lasted until 4am-ish.  We meet at 8:40 tomorrow morning, ahh the wisdom of age.