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My flight arrived at night instead of in the morning when the majority of the group landed. I considered this my first challenge in Chile: finding a safe and quick way to get from the airport to the hotel that we would be staying at for our first two nights. My Chilean friend recommended that I order an uber, she also noted that it is technically illegal to drive uber in Santiago but people use it all the time anyway.
On the flight, I read a majority of the orientation manual that was sent by the GW Chile program director. I watched a few movies in Spanish, and I also changed the language in my phone settings to Spanish in order to prepare myself for complete immersion. It was already dark by the time the plane was preparing to land, and the flight attendant announced that it was only 4 degrees celsius, in Santiago. Jumping from over 90 degrees fahrenheit weather to less than 40 degrees was not going to be a fun transition.
My first taxi experience in the city was not at all what I expected. As I walked out of the airport into the busy street after traveling for 18 hours, I was exhausted, and not to mention cold. I waited for my uber for about ten minutes, all the while trying to hold my two large suitcases, carry-on, and backpack as close to me as possible. Pickpocketing and petty theft was the first thing the manual warned to watch out for. Shivering, I decided to write the driver a message to ask if he was on his way, since the app hadn’t indicated that he was moving. The driver wrote back saying that since there were many “carabineros” (police) at the airport, I would have to take a bus to get to him. I looked doubtfully at my suitcases and at the four different buses in front of me. I decided this wasn’t going to work. I went back inside and looked for the taxi company kiosks. I paid about four times as much as the uber would have cost and went back out to the street, and once again I waited. Many others had the same taxi ticket in their hands, and each one was slowly but surely being driven away. Ten minutes went by, then thirty, then fifty. I couldn’t feel my finders or nose. At last, I was told to get in one of the taxi vans with a few others. We waited some more. Finally, we drove. An older man who sat next to me struck up a conversation with me, and I was pleasantly surprised at how well I was able to keep the conversation going. I was the last one to be dropped off, at nearly midnight, but I wasn’t even angry or sad, I nearly even forgotten how cold it was; I was simply excited by how new and different everything was, the city air smelled fresh with possibility.
