Santiago, Chile: How to Arrive Properly

Patagonia. Santiago to Ushuaia — the southernmost city on earth. If you’re joining mid-journey, the series starts here: Some People Collect Stamps. We Collect Roads.

Peru done. Bolivia half-conquered. Now we were attempting something bigger.

Five weeks in Patagonia — Santiago to Ushuaia, the southernmost city on earth. The plan was ambitious, the roads were long, and somewhere in the organising we stumbled into discounted Business Class seats on Qantas. Neither of us had flown Business before.

It turns out lying flat at 35,000 feet is stranger than it sounds. Daryl took a while to convince his body it was acceptable. The champagne helped.

We landed refreshed, which felt like cheating — but we weren’t complaining.

Every new country deserves a proper welcome. Ours comes in the form of a special dinner — somewhere local, somewhere worth dressing up for. It’s become a ritual, a way of arriving not just physically but fully.

Janine had already done her homework. Restaurant Bidasoa, tucked inside our hotel, was no accident. She’d chosen well.

The standout was Loco — a local mollusc, sometimes called Chilean abalone — served five ways. Each preparation different, each one worth eating slowly. For a shellfish, it carries surprising weight and depth of flavour.

Then came the ice cream. Janine is a connoisseur. This was one of the best she has had. She did not share.

The first rule of long-haul travel: don’t be a hero on day one. So we kept it gentle the next morning — a half day, some fresh air, nothing too demanding.

Janine’s luck was in. It was Monday, and in Santiago the museums are closed on Mondays. She was devastated, naturally.

We walked through the main park, then wandered into a Lapis Lazuli shop — a deep, almost impossible blue, worked into jewellery and ornaments. We left with earrings for Janine and souvenirs for the shelves back home.

The morning finished with a walk from the Plaza de Armas to the Iglesia de San Francisco, a church standing since 1622. Closed, of course. We peered through the windows and decided that counted.

Half a morning was exactly enough. The feet remembered what tourist mode feels like. The trip had begun.