Eels and Escalators

Right behind the hotel is the large park, the Cerro San Cristobel (the site of the hill with the statue of Jesus on it, Brian, although it turned out to be the Virgin Mary). Going to the top of a very large hill is a cablecar and I hoped to ride it that morning. Unfortunately on Mondays the cablecar didn't open until the afternoon. Having walked there, I walked back, determined to visit the next day.

Plans were changing and, as you do in a strange city, I decided to go to the mall, a huge one a few stops away on the underground. This was not entirely as brainlessly chosen as it might sound. I had several things to get for my further travels and I had some parcelling to do, so supplies were needed.

If Sunday had been busy, today Avenue Providencia was transformed into a maelstrom of activity. The underground too was refreshingly busy. Getting off at the end of the line, Scuola Militaire, I think, I walked to the mall, passing the very imposing military school on the way. I almost took a picture until I remembered in time that they're not keen on tourists snapping their military.

Up at Avenue Kennedy (the Irish are everywhere down here) I entered the huge mall. Priorities first, I had thin strips of roast beef on a bun, kind of a Chilean alternative to a burger. Then I browsed and bought. Getting brown paper for parcels is very difficult, indeed impossible, and I had to settle for baby birthday paper. On the other hand, the shoebox containing my new, cheap Brazilian slip-ons would work well for one parcel.

In the evening, I tried another Lonely Planet recommendation, this time on Constitution, a place called Galinda's, I think. Studying the menu, one item glared out; conger eel! Served in white wine and cream with potatoes and carrots, it was a splendid opportunity to tick off another item on the gastronomic wishlist (but it did taste familiar, so maybe I have had some before). In a huge bowl, still bubbling furiously, the waitress set it down before me. What i hadn't counted on though was the amount of cream used. I don't mind cream at all, but I don't drink milk straight and this was mainly boiled milk. Nevertheless I wasn't going to let this go, so I dug in. Despite a few bones, the eel though slightly more sticky than your standard fish, was lovely. I struggled through the soup and made as good a job as I could, helped by bread and beer.

A little thirsty, I was going to pop into one of the many bars, but chickened out in view of the many crowded tables on the pavement. I really feel the need for Spanish here.