This was the phrase written on the shirt of a youth backpacker during our full day travel extravaganza today. It left us both of us a bit confused as to what it could mean but we can only assume she has some sort of job working 8-9 at a store selling mustaches and/or mustache accessories.
Our day of travel began at 2 am when we awoke to thankfully not bad guitar playing on the patio right outside our window, but instead a terrifying barrage of hail against our poorly constructed patio hovel. We briefly considered moving away from the windows that lined the walls of our room but were far too sleepy and sickly and instead enjoyed the sounds of rain and thunder outside.
In the morning, we felt refreshed for the first time sleeping in this hell hole probably thanks to the rain keeping all the free wine partakers from singing outside our room till who knows when. (Lynn is correcting me, there were apparently girls who were quite loud spoken about their love for dancing in the rain at one point). It could have also been the roughly 36 hours now of straight off and on sleeping we had been doing trying to get over our flu/food poisoning. Regardless of the reason, we were both feeling much better and aside for a little more toilet time and some here and there woosiness our I-want-to-die sickness from yesterday was all gone.
We checked out of our hostel, taking advantage of how much the Argentinian Peso has tanked since we booked the place in October and got essentially a 30% discount by not paying up front (huzzah!). A quick taxi to the airport later we realized we were way too early at our tiny five gate airport and settled into the only restaurant for some bland food to ease our tummies back into the normal life. We had a very uneventful 30 minute flight from Mendoza to Santiago and sadly could not really appreciate the Andes as we flew over since neither of us had window seats.
Safely in Chile we had 6 hours to kill before our next leg to Lima at 9 pm. We had initially planned on seeing some of Santiago but my still woosiness and having only two hours or so after clearing customs, getting to the city, and accounting for getting back to the airport made it not really seem worth it. Instead we were just super bored. We drank Gatorade at the advice of Lynn’s dad, walked the length of the terminal at least six times, listened to podcasts, and stared into nothingness for probably close to an hour. Around 5.00 we were getting hungry again and decided Ruby Tuesday, that authentic Chilean restaurant, was our best bet for decent food. It was either that or a Johnny Rockets, the pickings were indeed slim. What followed was a mostly inedible meal of food so over salted that a salt cube would have been better. And this is coming from a couple who one of us used to dip french fries a mound of salt like it was ketchup (it was Lynn, I know you all thought it was me).
After dinner we walked around a little more and finally got on board our giant LAN plane to Lima. It was luckily continuing on to New York, or York Nueva as International Lynn has taken to calling it (she realized that this is backwards from the way other Spanish speakers say it, but why should it be Nueva York when the United States is Estados Unidos?), which meant we had full entertainment systems for our three and half hour flight. We both laughed at how atrocious Benedict Cumberbatch’s Boston accent was in Black Mass before I started but didn’t have time to finish A Million Ways to Die in the West and Lynn got lost in a game of Tetris.
We landed in Lima just before midnight local time (2 am Mendoza time) and cleared customs to enter an airport arrival hall absolutely swarmed with people. We made it through them all and waited in line (yes at now after midnight) to check our bags for our 5 am flight to Cusco. We headed upstairs but found out security did not open for domestic flights until 1.30. Luckily every single shop and restaurant were still open and humming with business. We struggled to find a table in the food court area after buying some ludicrously priced water and whiled away the time with Rummy (the card game, not a loveable local airport drunk of that name) before we made it through security and found a quiet corner of the terminal to try and get some sleep for a few hours.
Daily Walking Miles : 4
Current Rummy Score : Lynn-2605, Doug-2150
- Airports the world over look exactly the same, and they all have a disappointing food selection. Worse than that, they somehow always get my hopes up and the dash them in piles of salt or pathetic overpriced sandwiches (I’m looking at you Beijing).
- The international terminal at the Santiago airport is nowhere near big enough to occupy you for a six hour layover. Maybe we should have gone into the city after all.
- Given the 24 hour nature of our tummy troubles, we had decided on food poisoning. Thanks, empanadas.