No Where, Chile

My return flight from Buenos Aires, Argentina last winter would take me through Santiago, Chile and Atlanta, before arriving in Toronto. I booked the ticket because it was a great deal but realized afterward that I was flying out of the downtown airport, called Aeroparque. I hadn't even realized that Aeroparque flew internationally, thinking it was domestic flights only. My kiddo left a few hours before me, through Ezeiza the main international airport, taking off without any problems.

I spent a final few hours alone going for a long walk, remembering the kids when they were small and saying good-bye to favourite spots. As I was getting ready to go to the airport, I noted the skies were darkening, and it looked like some weather was coming in. By the time I jumped out of the car to run into the airport, the wind was picking up, and it was spitting.

And then I entered the airport. It was like a human tornado. January in Argentina is like August in France. Everyone goes on holiday at the same time. The place was packed. The air was thick. And there were lines everywhere. It took ages, but I was finally able to check in, drop my bags, and go through security, to the international wing, a tiny section of the airport. In the interim, the weather had turned properly south and planes weren't landing or taking off. More and more people kept piling into the small space. I managed to secure a perch on a side table next to a garbage can.

Initially, I was worried that I would miss my flight as I only had 90-minutes in Santiago.

And then I knew I missed it. Did I mention that I also had a miserable head cold?

Eventually we did make it out, landing in Santiago close to midnight. Airport reps were at the head of the gangway and collected eight of us who had missed flights. Two of us were trying to get to Toronto and the other six to Mexico City. We weren't going anywhere.

The process of finding all of our luggage, procuring contact details, passing through immigration and making arrangements took what felt like forever. We sat on hard airport benches and tried to make small talk. The folks going to Mexico City included a retired couple, a Dad and grown-up daughter, and two business men. The other traveller trying to get to Toronto was a young international student from Argentina, who had never really travelled alone. She started to cry and we rallied around her.

A couple of hours into the ordeal, I went for a walk around the airport and noticed a small kiosk still open, grabbing chocolate bars and water. I brought them back to the group. They were immediately snatched up. Most of us hadn't eaten because the flight had been so delayed and the the airport had been so hectic. The flight itself wasn't long enough for food service.

Finally a rep came out and told us it was time to roll. We were shoved into two taxi-vans and sent out into the night. I had no idea where we were going. About half an hour later we pulled up to a hotel in No Where, Chile and were given room keys in the lobby. They told us we could go to the breakfast buffet in the morning, and would be given food vouchers for lunch and dinner.

I went upstairs, dragged my suitcase into the room, noted it was after 3:30 in the morning, and passed out in the crisp, white hotel sheets.

The next morning I woke up feeling like I had slipped through a portal. Did last night really happen? Where was I? What hotel was I in?

I pulled back the curtains to reveal the picture below. I was in a resort hotel in the Andes. It was stunning. Suddenly realizing I was hungry and remembering there was promise of a buffet breakfast, I pulled on a clean tank top and shorts and head out of the room. As I grabbed the room key, I realized we were at the Sheraton, Santiago. Ok, cool.

Stepping out of the sliding glass doors, the air was different. Buenos Aires is hot and humid in the summer. This was mountain air, crisp and fresh, and I felt goosebumps form on my arms. I found the buffet located under the tent next to the pool. My room number passed the test and I was allowed in. They had a beautiful spread, but a different spread to what you would find in Buenos Aires. The fruits were different. The orange juice no longer fresh squeezed, but rather from concentrate. And my darling dulce de leche was gone. People spoke Spanish with a different accent. I was definitely somewhere else.

After breakfast, I heard from the airline, only to find out that I wasn't booked on a flight for another two and a half days. Our Mexico City counterparts had to wait five days! I decided to collapse into it and take it as a win. It's not often that the universe provides a free resort and the gift of free time. Thankfully, I was still on holiday.

I also started to realize that I may have had an ear infection. My head cold seemed to be migrating to my ears. My ears hadn't pop when we landed. I had a lot of pressure, ringing and could barely hear. I also didn't feel great. With my impromptu detour, I decided this was a sign to go to the doctor. My hospital story, is another story, but needless to say the care was amazing. I was able to see a fantastic doctor, quickly, and only a short walk from the hotel. He confirmed I did have an ear infection and set me up with antibiotics and ear drops that would get me back on the road safely. And then I rested for the road ahead.

One afternoon as I sat eating lunch I noticed the international student who had been so upset at the airport, lounging by the pool. She looked more than fine. This would be a last blast of summer before heading into the depths of Canadian winter.

Another day I sat at the pool bar reading a book and a little cat walked out of the bushes, looking exactly like my beloved cat who died some years ago. Every now and then random tabby cats appear out of nowhere and demand my attention, as though he has come to say hello.

Just as quickly as I arrived in Chile, it was time to go. I ended up taking an Uber to the airport with one of the business men from Mexico City, who booked an earlier flight. He saw me waiting in the lobby for a car, and offered me a drive. It's funny how complete strangers can help each other quickly when put in a pressured situation. We chatted in the car with the driver and then wished each other well at the terminal.

And just like that I slipped through the portal again and was homeward bound.