Friday 6th May 1988
I went out to photocopy my map of Mendoza in the Lonely Planet Guide to South America book before meeting the others outside “Chez Henri’s” on the plaza. Police in flack jackets stood by fortified armoured vans as the busy crowds went about their business.
We took bus 50B for 55 Chilean Pesos out to the east side of town to Los Dominicos to visit the artisan barrio. Pueblito Los Dominicos (Los Dominicos Village) is a crafts market and popular tourist shopping destination in a heritage zone of Santiago, Chile. It is located at the end of Avenida Apoquindo in Los Dominicos Park, to the side of San Vicente Ferrer Church (also known as Los Dominicos Church).
A succession of vendors and beggars with monotonous sales pitches jumped aboard the bus en route. At the craft village we found a collection of thatched roof huts from which artists sold pottery, jewellery and carvings in wood and stone. There were tropical birds, including a fantastic toucan, just like the one in the Guinness advert, and fish.
None of us were tempted to buy anything and we bussed back to the centre and our hotel. As the others sprawled on their beds, I went down to the Bus Terminal to buy a ticket to Mendoza, across the Andes in Argentina. Allegedly the 181-kilometre (112 miles) bus ride through the Andes Mountains to Mendoza was one of the best in the world.
I got to the University of Chile station on the Metro and entered the hall of bus offices. A swarm of ticket touts tried to steer me to the offices selling tickets for about 4,000 Chilean Pesos for the ten-hour bus trip, but I found one that offered a promotional price of 2,500 Chilean Pesos. I got a ticket for tomorrow at 08:45 hrs. and headed back to the hotel munching peanuts.
The others were still dozing in our dimly lit room. I joined in the mass nap until 19:00 hrs. when we all went out to get something to eat. We went into “Chez Henri’s” after stocking up with wine from the Bandera Azul Supermarket where we had to go through the rigmarole of getting one guy to serve you, another to wrap it up and then paying a third person at the till before returning to pick up your shopping.
Once back in our room we were all too tired and apathetic to go out for the evening. I helped Kathy to eat her lasagne and we opened a bottle of Champagne. In the flickering candlelight we went on to polish off a litre of Gato Negro red wine, sitting on our beds talking and trying to stay awake.
At midnight we called it a day. There was a party on in a strip club around the corner (after business hours), but we were too tired to bother. Everyone was asleep immediately their heads touched their pillows.
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