Santiago & Valparaiso

We are about to embark on a trip of a lifetime. We are incredibly fortunate, as not many people get the chance to do this trip, and although it has always been on my bucket list, I never really believed we would tick it off.

It’s no secret that I love penguins. When you picture a penguin, it’s usually clean, pristine, and adorable—just like Happy Feet. The reality isn’t always quite so glamorous! I would love to see an Emperor penguin. The only place to see them in the wild is Antarctica!  It’s unlikely, but we will be seeing King penguins, which look almost identical.  My favourite character in Happy Feet is Lovelace, so seeing a Rockhopper Penguin would be just awesome too!

So yes, we are Antarctica-bound via Chile.

John and I visited Argentina in 2008 and absolutely loved it. It exceeded every expectation. Now we’re visiting its next-door neighbour. We specifically chose not to do Chile’s Patagonia, as we know we’ll see similar landscapes in Antarctica.

Instead, we’ll explore Santiago and its surroundings, Valparaíso, Pucón (Chile’s version of Queenstown), the Atacama Desert, and then head right down to the very bottom—Puerto Williams—where we will board our ship to Antarctica. And of course, we all know what awaits us there: ice.

So join John and me on another “living the dream” adventure.

Day 1 - Write off

Day 1 started with one of those flights that completely messes with your sense of reality. Twelve hours from Sydney to Santiago, plus a fourteen-hour time difference, meant we actually landed before we took off. Sounds impressive — like we’ve unlocked some kind of time-travel perk — but our bodies were having none of it. We honestly didn’t know if we were meant to be waking up, going to bed, or ordering a coffee just to stay upright.

At least the Dreamliner made it all feel a bit gentler. I still don’t really understand what makes it different from other planes — something about cleaner air and clever lighting — but I do know it was comfortable, which was all I cared about. We were flying LATAM and the crew couldn’t have been lovelier, even when the turbulence turned the flight into a bit of a rollercoaster. Service was put on hold for quite a while, and when they finally did open the sparkling water near John it burst out like a shaken champagne bottle and drenched him. Everyone around us thought it was brilliant. John took it well, as usual.

He’d organised a car to collect us — naturally, because he’s the tour organiser, researcher, and chief logistics officer of our little duo — and our driver was basically the Chilean version of Robin Williams. Non-stop chatter, stories, and jokes from the moment we got in until the moment we tumbled out. Among other things, he told us Chile has at least one earthquake a day. Turns out that wasn’t just a throwaway line — Chile averages close to a thousand quakes a year, most of them tiny little murmurs you’d never feel, but the country does sit on a very lively bit of Earth. It all comes from the Nazca Plate sliding under the South American Plate, which sounds dramatic because it is.

By the time we arrived at the hotel, all we wanted was a bed. Unfortunately, the hotel was full and early check-in wasn’t happening. They pointed us toward a cosy library area where we could “relax” — which, in my case, meant nodding off like a local drunk in a corner booth. My head kept flopping to the side and jolting back up as I pretended I wasn’t actually falling asleep in public. Meanwhile, John — calm, composed, Johnny Boy — sat there reading like the turbulence, time travel and fizzy-water shower had never happened.

Once we finally surrendered to the fact that sleep wasn’t happening in the lobby, we wandered into the hotel restaurant for lunch — and honestly, it was impressive. Properly good food, beautifully presented, the kind that makes you sit up a bit straighter even though you’ve been awake for what feels like two days. It was exactly what we needed to convince ourselves we were, in fact, human again.

Not long after, our room was ready, and what a room it was. Cleverly designed without feeling fussy, a modern four-poster bed, a massive shower you could practically waltz in, a sofa, a dining table — everything you’d want for six days of pretending this hotel is your new home. Well done Johnny. He really does shine in his role as Tour Organiser Extraordinaire.

And because he never misses a trick, he’d also booked us massages for 3 pm. Mine was blissful — relaxing, quiet, the perfect welcome to Santiago. John’s, on the other hand, was unintentionally hilarious. The man hates oil on his skin. Hates it. And his masseuse seemed to have missed that memo entirely. He went in with the oil like he was preparing him for roasting. All I could hear was constant rubbing, squeaking, squelching — palms sliding, more oil, more rubbing, like he was working on a bicycle chain rather than my husband. I tried not to laugh but it was impossible. It then took John a full 30-minute shower to de-grease himself afterwards. But even he admitted it was a very good massage.

After that came a little snooze (no flailing this time) and then we made our way up to the rooftop terrace for cocktails and dinner. The music was great — we definitely heard the playlist loop a few times, but it was good enough that we didn’t mind. The whole vibe up there was lovely: warm evening air, soft lighting, and a view of the Virgin Mary glowing on the hill with the Andes behind her as the sun went down. It felt like exactly the right place to land after such a long journey.

We chatted briefly to a couple from London — originally South African — who’d spent three weeks four-wheel-driving through Patagonia like absolute champions. Then it was back to our beautiful room and into that four-poster bed for the sleep we’d been chasing since we “landed before we took off.”

And sleep we did…

Day 2  - Walking Tour Santiago

Day 2 started beautifully — mostly because we actually slept, though it may have been chemically assisted. I might’ve gone a touch heavy on the sleep meds, because even after a full night, my body was still insisting it was bedtime. All day. At every moment. But we hauled ourselves down to breakfast, and it was worth it. Crispy bacon for me, endless choices for John.

We’d (That is the Royal We, John had) booked a three-hour guided historical walking tour of the city, which on paper sounds like something you’d politely avoid. But honestly, it was fascinating. There’s so much I don’t know about other countries, and even though I needed matchsticks to keep my eyes open, I loved it. The weather was warm — 30 degrees — and all the snow had melted off the Andes.

There were nine of us in the group, including a very loud Canadian man who, bless him, had forgotten deodorant on a 30-degree day and felt the need to loudly marvel at Chile’s plan to build a railway line down the length of the country. This would’ve been more astonishing if Canada didn’t already have a train line stretching 4,466 km between Vancouver and Toronto. The irony made me smile.

We learned about the conquistadors arriving and being warmly welcomed by the native people — only to later take advantage of them by getting them to sign documents they couldn’t read, effectively giving up their land. We took in the architecture, the way Chile has grown and modernised, how progressive it is politically. Like Australia, they have compulsory voting. Unlike Australia, they have more women in parliament than men. Their president has actually delivered on five of his ten promises — and yet is somehow still sitting low in the polls. 

We talked about volcanos, fault lines, and why the underground here is considered the safest place to be during a big earthquake. That piece of information lodged itself firmly in my brain. Good to know, just in case. And because it was a public holiday — the Immaculate Conception — the city felt a bit quieter. Most shops were closed… except the opticians. 

Thousands of people were making a pilgrimage up to the Virgin Mary at the top of Cerro San Cristóbal. The statue is 22 metres tall and sits high above the city with panoramic views. 

And we learned something wild: there’s no income tax in Chile. Everything is sales tax. That explained a few things.

Our guide, MJ, was from Venezuela — energetic, passionate, and full of stories. She made the history feel alive, even for someone fighting off a drug-induced fog.

Straight back to the hotel for a siesta afterwards. I could barely keep upright. Then, feeling slightly more human, we wandered around Lastarria, a trendy area filled with restaurants, wine bars, and ice-cream shops. Perfect for a gentle stroll and people-watching.

Then yes — back to the hotel for yet another siesta (at this point my naps had their own schedule), before heading to the rooftop again for dinner and cocktails. The city looked gorgeous as the sun went down, and it was the perfect way to end the day.

Less medication meant less sleep — so naturally I was awake at 1:30 am. But today is my birthday, so I suppose being awake for most of it is fair enough. Plus with the time difference, it was my birthday in Australia yesterday, so I had loads of messages waiting for me. Really lovely to wake up to.

And that’s Day 2 — slightly wobbly, a bit over-medicated, full of history, sunshine, good food, and a gentle lead-in to my birthday.  Some Photos of the walk around Santiago.

Day 3 - My birthday

Day 3 began far too early after yet another not-so-brilliant night of sleep for either of us. But it was my birthday — so no matter how tired, creaky, or confused our bodies felt, we were absolutely determined to have a spectacular day. That’s the rule: on your birthday, the universe must behave.

We had breakfast at the hotel, and then headed out for a street-art walk — lovingly crafted by John and ChatGPT. A collaboration of great minds, obviously.

The morning was cool and calm, with the temperature set to creep up to 30 degrees later. As we wandered out into the streets of Santiago, the place was being jet-washed like some enormous outdoor bathroom. It really is an amazingly clean city. The only challenge? The footpaths. I swear you have to watch where you’re walking every second. Some of the cracks and holes are so big that a small child could vanish into them. I even spotted a nearly ripe beefsteak tomato growing in one — proof that Chilean streets are fertile in more ways than one.

But honestly, that’s the only negative I can find. Everything else felt vibrant, friendly, and full of character.

We followed the route as best we could — until ChatGPT suggested turning right. Something about it didn’t quite look right, so naturally we decided to go left, because there were murals in that direction. Big mistake. Always trust the navigator, even if the navigator is a robot. Instead of the neat 1.8-km street-art trail, we somehow ended up on a 7-km urban expedition through parts of Santiago we definitely hadn’t planned on seeing. But that was half the fun — watching the city wake up around us, cafes opening, people striding off to work, and the streets filling with that energetic hum.

The murals themselves were brilliant — a mix of everything from store advertisements to political statements to whimsical splashes of colour. At one point Captain Ricardo emerged from his little shop to introduce himself, wanting to know where we were from. When I said Australia, he immediately launched into stories about his holiday to Spain, Hungary and Austria. Close enough, I suppose.

By the time we’d finished wandering (and wandering, and wandering), we realised we hadn’t quite completed the original art trail… not even close. But we’d had a good laugh, seen parts of the city we wouldn’t have otherwise, and collected plenty of great photos along the way.

A slightly chaotic, unexpectedly long, but absolutely delightful birthday morning.  Some photos below.  Such a mix of architecture, but it works as it appears to have evolved over time.

After John nearly washed his hands with sugar syrup — genuinely believing it was hand sanitizer — we decided that was our cue to head back to the hotel for, you guessed it, another siesta. At this point, the siestas are practically a third member of the trip.

But no rest for the birthday girl for long, because John had booked me a spa massage and facial at the best spa in Santiago. Honestly, he outdid himself. A quick kip, a splash of water on the face, and off we went again.

The massage was absolute heaven — the perfect mix of relaxing and restorative — and the facial left my skin so moisturised I could practically see it glowing. I floated out of there feeling like I’d just been upgraded to the premium version of myself. A million bucks, minimum.

And since we were already in a very swanky spot, it would’ve been rude not to test out the roof terrace and their cocktail list. So up we went. I ordered oysters — because it’s my birthday and oysters make everything feel fancy — and John went for something pink and mysterious in a glass. Whatever it was, it was delish.

A perfect end to the pampered part of the day, with the city spread out below us and the warm air settling into evening.  The chocolate river - it is unbelievable how fast it flows.

As we wandered through the streets later, the city had that mellow, early-evening buzz about it. Every so often we’d walk straight into a soft little cloud of marijuana smoke — sweet, floral, and completely unbothered. It’s been decriminalised here, and you can tell: people look relaxed, cheerful, and wonderfully content. Couples strolling hand in hand, groups laughing over plastic cups of something cold, dogs trotting along like they own the place. Santiago has this effortless warmth to it.

We finished the day with dinner at a local spot, sitting outside while a couple of buskers played nearby. Nothing fancy, just that perfect mix of food, music, and atmosphere that makes you stop and think, yep, today was a good one.

A fab birthday from start to finish, even with the wobbles, the wandering, and the sugar-syrup sanitising. Thanks for all the lovely birthday wishes — they absolutely made my day.