Santiago, Chile Series - First Impressions

I felt relieved and liberated to be able to walk the streets again after Guatemala. Santiago Chile looks European, with clean streets and paved walkways. As it was a Sunday, all the local shops were closed. The concierge told me that a shopping mall nearby was opened, so I headed that way. 

I had a spring in my step when I walked along the Avenue Provedencia towards the city centre on a slightly overcast Sunday afternoon. Sure, I must be careful but that's true in every city.

Avenue Providencia, Santiago

Avenue Providencia, Santiago

Trees were nearly bare in the winter

Bicycles, a sign of relatively safe roads

A flavour of the local style

The Costanera Center is located in the tallest building in South America, with several floors of shops covering almost all kinds of budgets and brands, and topped by a great offering of restaurants and fast food stalls on the roof terrace. Here, in this temple of commercialism, local brands rubbed shoulders with international names, and I was slightly surprised to see cosmetics brands Mac and Bobbi Brown operating a standalone unit each. As I did not want to buy things and carry them in and out of countries, I did not check the prices.

The escalators at Costanera Center, Santiago

Finally I decided to eat. There were great choices on the top floor with great prices. I was drawn to a seafood restaurant with huge tanks of fish. And there I had oysters and the most succulent octopus.

Costamia Restaurant, Costanera Shopping Center

Inside Costamia Restaurant

This is a good start and I hope it keeps this way. 

COPA and transiting at Panama

This was the first time I flew with COPA - Compañía Panameña de Aviación, S.A., the flag carrier of Panama. This is a frugal carrier, with 2 attendants serving the economy cabin, whether it was the Embraer 190 or a Boeing 737. I was told by the travel agent that Panama is the hub for Central America and to get to South America, using COPA is the clear choice. I read in some sky forum that their customer service was poor, but that was not my experience. In the economy cabin, their service was far more friendlier than British Airways.

The Tocumen International Airport at Panama was bustling with people, with departure gates packed very closely to each other. The airport is the home of COPA and every corner you turn, you will find COPA crew everywhere. They are a young bunch. According to their literature, COPA have a fleet of over 85 airplanes, mostly Boeing 737s.

A COPA airplane being serviced at Tocumen Airport

A corner of the Tocumen Airport, Panama

COPA aircraft lining up to take off at Tocumen Airport

Aerial view of Panama City

The chapel at Tocumen Airport

Bang on the main thoroughfare of the Tocumen Airport is this small chapel for passengers who want a quiet moment to say a prayer or two. It brings home to me how devout South Americans are. There are an estimated 1.2 billion Roman Catholics in the world, according to Vatican figures; more than 40% of them live in Latin America.

The flight from Panama to Santiago, Chile took 6 long hours. The cabin was packed with restless and boisterous youngsters on holiday. Thankfully there was in flight entertainment to drown out the noise. The crew served a hot dog and then a main meal. Both were enjoyable airplane food. Another surprise.

Guatemala - Not a destination of choice

Visiting Guatemala for the first time can be a daunting experience. Security warnings, economic hardships and rampant corruption can be a bewildering mix for the unsuspecting tourists. But next time, I am determined to learn more about this country.

By the time I landed at the La Aurora International Airport, after the two-hour immigration queue at Miami International Airport in transit, I was on the road for over 20 hours and feeling extremely jet lagged. It was a huge relief to receive my baggage not having been tampered with whilst it was in transit at Miami. Yes, the last time I transit at Miami, my baggage was opened, not by the TSA but by baggage thieves. American Airlines who carried me at the time, denied my claim and told me to take the issue to the airline who sold me the ticket, which was British Airways.

Stepping out into the terminal, I was intrigued to come face to face with street vendors selling tourist tack. Later on the outbound trip, I saw even more of them accosting departing tourists at the entrance to the airport terminal.

All the photos in this blog were taken on my iPhone 6 Plus. I did not feel safe to carry my camera with me.

Street vendors outside Guatemala International Airport

The hotel is a 15-minute ride from the airport. The Barcelo Hotel is an attractive hotel and charges an unbelievably reasonable rate of USD$60 per night, including breakfast and wifi. It also offers free shuttle to and from the airport and to and from the office. The young guys at the Business Centre who helped me to do my on-line check in were pleasant enough for a business hotel. Elsewhere, within the public areas, security men patrolled ardently with their earpiece and mouthpiece.

View of the city from the hotel balcony

Another view of the city from the hotel balcony

Everyday I left the comfort of the hotel by shuttle bus to the office at Europlaza. There, we all had to leave our personal belongings with security and pass through a scanner. I often reflect on how lucky it is not to have to go through this kind of security in the UK or in Europe.

Everywhere I went, the roads were covered by political posters, with male candidates' faces beaming benignly at the passers-by. The Presidential elections will be in September and in the meantime, Guatemala is facing a corruption crisis, with many ministers resigning and the head of the central bank sacked.

Guatemala City, street scene

Guatemala city, street scene

The small stores in Guatemala practice the pile it high format. Here are two examples:

The shop in the hotel lobby

The shops at the airport, before immigration

Food was fine. The best meal I had was this plate of grilled prawns. The seafood was cooked just right and the prawns were delicious.

Grilled prawns

On departure, after tedious immigration and even more tedious security check, a policeman stopped me and demanded to see my passport. That was the fifth time my passport was checked (first time at entry to terminal, second time at airline check in desk, third time at entrance to the departure hall, fourth time at immigration). The young man looked at me menacingly, passed his fingers over my passport as if he was suspecting to find the document a fake, and when he saw my anger, asked me how much money I had with me. Then, when I opened my purse and he saw a near empty purse, he very reluctantly returned my passport to me. That was the first time I was rumbled by an official and I am not sure what the purpose was to single me out for intimidation.

And to add to the security paranoia, all my hand luggage was given another thorough search at the departure gate. The search agent took everything out of my cases and ran his fingers along the lining of the case. I was a relief to leave the country.

Weymouth, Dorset

We went to Dorset for the Seafood Festival. Actually the festival was sponsored by a French champagne house and the festival carried its name. But I am not here to promote a champagne. 

It's been a long time since I went to the seaside. I last went to a seaside town - Scarborough, only to come face to face with the tackiness of it all: the promenades lined with tea rooms that competed on the price of a cup of tea, knickerbocker glory, all day English breakfast. Those were the days before the invasion of a £2 cup of coffee, and middle England was still in thrall to all things British, such as a decent cup of Typhoo tea. It was also a windy day, grey and dull, and I met this woman who showed me all her pre-owned rings that she bought from a local jeweler. It was a new world to me: frugality of a cup for many, recycling of rings for some.

Back to Weymouth. The beach, when it was nearly empty, was actually quite pleasant, lined on one side with eateries and souvenir shops. By noon, the beach was getting crowded, with all manners of bronzed bodies spilling out their excess flab and in some cases, covered in brown creases caused no doubt by sun damage. This was not the Riviera, I reminded myself. But some modesty could have gone a long way.

Sea front, Weymouth

Empty deck chairs before the mass exhibition

Donkey ride

I am fascinated by donkey rides at seaside resorts. Why donkeys on a beach? It is difficult to trace this seaside tradition, although Wikipedia offered a line to say that the donkeys used in north of England could be retired donkeys from cockle picking. What I found terribly funny was the notice warning customers that only children under the age of 14 and under 7 stones (98 lbs) were allowed. Looking around at a whole bunch of grossly overweight adults, it was not surprising that there is now weight restriction for children on donkey rides.

The old harbour

Weymouth Town Centre

What about the seafood? There were all sorts: crab, lobster, prawns, fish and chips, fish cakes, paella, Thai seafood, and not forgetting: cheeses,  marshmallows, craft cider, the Dorset Echo (with free water), artisan bread, wood fired pizzas, driftwood, vegetable slicers, and all manners of things that screamed compulsive buying. Towards noon time, the old harbour where all the food stalls were located was packed with visitors, making free movement well nigh impossible. It was time to go.

Dorset, Pallington Lakes

It was magical to visit Sculptures on the Lakes. In the modern language the descriptive words would be amazing, awesome, but these are over used words and would have rendered the experience meaningless, on a par with watching some inferior acts on some loud, loathsome reality shows. Rather, the experience of visiting the sculpture park was a much deeper one, resonating with nature, touching the soul.

When Simon Gudgeon created the landscaped garden to display the sculptures, he wanted the place to "have a subconscious appeal" to the viewers' emotions; he considered it important that the viewer connects with the art.

We were mesmerized by a mixture of monumental sculptures and some smaller works. The entrance fee of £10 seemed a very small fee to pay for a highly emotive experience.

Here are some of my favourite pieces.

Time to Reflect

Ideas on a bench

Search for enlightenment

Dance of life (my own caption)

Pelicans

Roe deer

Origins

Swans

Summer flowers

Water lily

Closing with a haiku

Majestic sculptures

Scattered thoughts in the soft wind

Fleeting happiness

The Summer of Being Home

This is probably the first summer in two years that I am home. There has been a heat wave in the UK, with one online tabloid newspaper continuously flashing lobster red bodies to labour the point. Nearer home, there have never been so many pasty limbs and torsos exposing their inked contents in various degrees of attraction or repulsion, depending on one's aesthetic sense. My friend bought us a bottle of Pimms and it is still sitting in the cupboard waiting to be mixed and savoured. There are BBQ adverts galore on the TV, some of them are artistry par excellence. The food looks mouth watering, testimony to the skill of the artists who created the adverts. Elsewhere, the Greeks have rejected austerity and there was terrorism on a Tunisian beach.

One of the things I seldom do is to visit summer fetes. Perhaps I did not grow up with this cultural phenomenon. But this weekend we found one near home and off we went.

There it was: fun rides, toy stalls, art and craft marquee, raffle (for a Mini no less), bratwurst, hamburgers, ice cream, a dog show, and a crooner or two. And then there were the classic car enthusiasts. This was the second time this summer that I came across this contingent of mostly male collectors who would drive their beloved car to a show and sit around waiting for adulation from onlookers. Some even sit inside the car in baking hot condition, such is the devotion to duty. All the cars are in gleaming condition - benefit of untold love being lavished on them. What drew my attention were the enamel badges that the cars were adorned with. And believe me, there is also a market for such collectibles.

Here are some photos of my hour with the classic cars, taken on my iPhone 6 Plus.

A warped sense of humour

A tiger in every tank, from the Esso promotion in the 1970s

Badges galore

An idealized blonde bombshell

Patriotic fervour

Would  I know that this is a 1930 Model A? Of course not.

And more badges

Please do not lean on me unless you are naked

A car from a bygone era

Aha, for a laugh

There is a sense of novelty in visiting a summer fete, much like the time when we visited all the Christmas markets in Vienna. Maybe if I visit another one again, I will have experiences of summer fetes to last a lifetime.