Our last day in Chile. We have to be at the airport by about 7:00 pm for our night flight home.
We checked out of our room by 11:00. The hostel held our bags until we would return later that day.
We walk down to the two craft markets near the Cerro Santa Lucia. The larger one - across the Alemeda from the Cerro - is larger but is tackier. The smaller Centro de Exposicion de Arte Indigena had better quality items from the few indigenous peoples left in Chile. Most items were made by craftspeople in the largest indigenous group - the Mapuche. We bought a packet of merken spice, a framed old photograph of a Mapuche woman, a woven belt, a couple of painted small plates (from the north) and a scarf.
We had lunch in the trendy Barrio Lastarria area and then made our way to the Neruda house - La Chascona - at the base of Cerro San Cristobal. We were able to join an English language tour of the house. The house was built for his third wife and named after her unmanageable hair. It is one of three Neruda homes. The others are in Valpariaso and further south along the coast. The compound consists of two small houses - one more for them and one more for entertaining. Neruda loved the sea. The houses are like two small boats moored at the base of the tallest hill in the city. Our tour guide was knowledgeable and humorous.
After the tour we tried to get some gelato at one of the town's more famous ice cream paroles. We paid and received a number. After several minutes, we realized it was going to take an hour before we were waited on. We turned in our ticket and got our money back. We made our way back to the hostel gelato-less.
When we returned to the hostel we retrieved our luggage and walked the two blocks to the Alemeda to catch our bus. The buses seem to leave about every 15 minutes.
At the airport we got our seat assignments, exchanged our remaining pesos and went through customs.
The plane to Dallas was not filled. There was some room to spread out. But it was still difficult to sleep.
In Dallas we ate breakfast. Everyone in the Dallas airport seemed to be wearing tee shirts or caps sporting a team logo. Sports crazed, I guess. And overweight. Welcome back to America.
With a silent prayer, we changed the microchips in our phones. They worked. Hurrah.
When we got to Newark, I called my parents. They were to pick us up at the Salisbury Mills train station.
It was raining in Newark. The first rain or even dark clouds that we had seen in weeks. The change in humidity was already making havoc with my sinuses. The lush greenery of the train ride home was a striking contrast to the barren landscape we had traveled in for weeks. Each has it's own beauty, it's own mystery, it's own appeal.
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