I arrived in Santiago a bit worse for wear. The traumas involved in putting the helm over and “tacking” onto an entirely different course had taken a toll. My parting from Mike and Gill was not without difficulties – they were upset at being left and, while I am still comfortable in knowing that the decision was for me the correct one, I was equally upset at having to leave.

To heal the damage, on the day after my arrival I did two very stereotypically American things. First, I found a huge mall and did some shopping – not completely for therapeutic reasons. Travel plans that had shifted from a leisurely sail across the South Pacific to exploring the northern reaches of Patagonia in the fall had left me short of necessary gear. And, second, that night for dinner I consumed a large quantity of American comfort food (Kentucky Fried Chicken I am embarrassed to admit).

Feeling much better the next morning, I met Sergio while relaxing after breakfast in the lounge area of my lovely “Hostel” (it was a bit more like a boutique hotel in my opinion). Sergio is 81, had been born and raised in Santiago but, like many, had been forced to leave Chile during the times of Pinochet. Too many friends and business acquaintances had simply disappeared. Now a naturalized U.S. citizen, Sergio and his family have lived mostly in the Bay area for the last 40 years. He returns to Chile periodically to visit family and friends and to look after some family properties.

Completely engaging with his knowledge of and obvious love for his country, I enjoyed his company very much. And, I learned a great deal of the history, culture and geography of Chile.

It was Sunday and neither of us had any plans. Sergio offered me a guided tour of the central district of Santiago. I readily accepted his kind offer. We took the Metro subway to the University of Santiago stop and began a slow meandering walk towards the Plaza de Armas past impressive University and government buildings and along pedestrian-only streets which, lined with stores and shops of all descriptions, on weekdays would have been centers of commerce. On a Sunday, there was not much likely to be open. There were, however, many people meandering along with us.
Sergio told me that there were two things that we must do – enjoy an espresso at one of the Santiago “Coffee Bars” and have lunch at the Mercado Central. These were indeed the highlights of our day together.

At the “Coffee Bars” (my term), one does not sit, there is no wifi, the espresso can be had adulterated only in the simplest forms and there are no pastries. This is NOT Starbucks. It IS a place to see and be seen. Also, it is a place in which to take a break from a busy day or, conversely, to engage in important business and, in either case, to enjoy very good café. Having paid for your drink at the Caja, one takes their receipt to either an advantageous position along the sinuous stainless steel bar surrounding the shop interior or at one of the similarly simple “tables” under cover along the sidewalk outside. A waitress soon appears to take your receipt and get your order. It is the waitresses about which Sergio had waxed most eloquently. Simply but elegantly dressed in long, dark skirts, white blouses and high heels, these are very attractive young ladies – clearly intended to be as appreciated as the excellent coffee.

Entering the Mercado Central, you first pass by several fish and seafood vendors before entering the high ceilinged portion of the building – with exposed iron roof structure – where several seafood restaurants jam tables into all available space. The waiters tackle you at the door and push you towards a table in their section (that’s a bit overstated but you certainly don’t have to wait to get attention!).

My Spanish skills, usually adequate, often fail me when presented with unfamiliar menu items. And, all of the items on this menu (expect salmon and atun) were unfamiliar. I had seen, however, some really tasty looking seafood soups/stews at tables along the circuitous path to our table and told Sergio that I would like something along those lines. He said “I know exactly what to order for us!” and, when our waiter arrived ordered “Caldillo de Congrio”. Caldillo I understood – but what was Congrio? I was asking Sergio just that question as our English-speaking waiter, walking by behind me and hearing my query said simply “Congrio is eel!”

How could I gracefully find a way to change my order? There was, of course, no such possibility without risking offense to Sergio. So I just sucked it up and prepared myself mentally to eat what I perceived as “water snake”.

It was, needless to say, excellent - the broth very tasty, the white Congrio meat tender, juicy and lightly flavorful.

It was only later in my travels that I learned the extent to which this dish is considered a national treasure. The famous Chilean poet, Pablo Neruda, had, in fact, written an entire poem about, and titled “Caldillo de Congrio”. I saw it the other day printed on a poster at his old home (now a museum) in Valparaiso.

I learned much from Sergio, enjoyed his company immensely and will always associate him with my time in Santiago.

The picture is of an art installation at the Museo de Belle Artes in Santiago that I particularly enjoyed.