Zelma’s Trip

So I had previously decided that I was able to collect the van that my parents had organised the day prior to their arrival.  No problem there you might think….well that´s what I thought.  I went to bed nice and early the previous night only to wake up at around eleven o´clock – pesky late jet-lag!  Checkout was officially eleven at my Residencial so I did what any decent person would, snuck around getting ready and managed to dodge the owner and get out the front door whilst she was cleaning! 

 The next ordeal was finding the train station.  My amazing lack of Spanish extended to station so I tried saying Station with various endings like, o, er, ez, etc.  Well obviously I didn´t say etc as an ending, that was meant in its normal term.  I also tried to tell the taxi driver I was going to Talca.  This made him first look confused, then excited as he thought he was getting the fare from heaven.  When I protested as I saw his eyes light up he gave up and I waited for a second taxi.  With the assistance of actions and comedy chugging noises with Talca uttered imbetween, I managed to convince the second taxi driver of my correct location.  Having arrived at the station it was marginally easier to but a ticket and get on the right train.

Once on the train I was surprised how comfortable and clean it was.  Not that I was necessarily expecting some kind of hole on wheels but it was very reasonable, six or eight quid for a three hour journey.  The only problem was that I was still very tired and, somewhat unsurprisingly given my previous form, I had someone behind me who thought that my chair was a strangely shaped football.  This time the kicker took child form and, along with kicking the sh·t out of my back every three seconds, also seemed to like squealing in a high pitched voice while yanking the blind up and down so that it crashed against my arm.  I spent the majority of the journey drifting towards sleep prior to being rudely awakened by the aforementioned behvaiour and then considering whether it was a criminal offence to strangle a small child in Chile.  At one point an old man, who had been looking at the small child, got up from his seat and began to wander over.  You can imagine my delight as I thought that the little brat was finally going to get the telling off that its mother seemed so reticent to give it.  My glee quickly faded as it soon became apparent that the old man was spawned from the same strange non-Earthly being sect as the small child and had actually come over to make stupid noises and condone the child´s ridiculous behaviour.

Eventually the torment ended and I arrived in Talca.  When I got off the train I went and had a cigarette and looked for the piece of paper which had the details of the rental company on it.  I had just about enough time to get the taxi to the place prior to it closing at five at this stage.  Well that was if I knew where the place was but, having been distracted by the moronic, mutant midget, I had somehow managed to misplace the said bit of paper on the train.  And, yes, I am blaming the small child for this one!  So, having no clue as to where I was going, I decided to try and find an internet cafe to get the details from an email from my parents.  When I asked people they gave me directions faster than you can say, well directions horrendously quickly in Spanish, and I wondered around, hot, heavily loaded and getting more and more concerned that I wouldn´t be able to collect the van and that my parents would be stranded at the airport.  Eventually I found an internet place and printed the details.  When I went to pay it turned out that the owner was discussing his life history and the Philosophy and times of Wittgenstein with a comrade, or something equally lenghty and tedious, and I tried to make, “hurry up, can´t you see I´m in a hurry”, type noises.  Eventually he did but I then managed to throw all my money on the floor.  When I say all my money, I mean all my coins which amounted to about 0.0000000003 pence, or something, and everyone decided it was the most important thing in the World that I didn´t leave the shop without every miniscule amount.  Eventually I managed to escape, loaded down with shrapnel, and got in a taxi.  Unfortunately the torture wasn´t over as it transcribed that my printed out address only contained a name and a postcode.  The taxi driver then beckoned a friend over so that they could um and argh about it for a good ten minutes before deciding that it might be a good idea to call the phone number to actually get the address.

Finally, having suffered back injuries, and several heart attacks, I arrived at the place where “Trekker Chile” was located.  It was officially after the time that they were supposed to close but they seemed far less bothered than I was.  Having located a guy staying in the neighbouring hostel to act as a translator, the guy went through the van details and inventory with me.  It was a 4 x 4 Toyota Hilux with a very funky sleeping cabin attachment thing at the back.  The vehicle was equipped with absolutely everything you needed to eat and sleep etc plus all the necessary equipment for an emergency.  Having showed me every minute detail, almost down to the spark plugs, I signed the paperwork, got in the van and drove off.

The hire company was in the back and beyond down a gravel track so I wasn´t overly concerned that the van felt lumpy.  Then, when I got onto the motorway, it didn´t improve.  I told myself that I was being stupid for some time prior to stopping for food at a service station.  I got the amazingly vegetarian, hot dog option.  Although at least it was Chilean as it was smothered in Palta (Avocado).  Wow, did you see that?  A whole Chilean word, that´s your lot though you understand.  Just don´t go expecting any more.  Anyway, so my belly´s full and I head off again.  The lumpiness didn´t subside and I decided that I really needed to get it checked out.  So I turned around and headed back.  I thought that I may struggle to relocate the place and I was right.  After getting lost and being given directions prior to getting lost again, I stopped at another service station to ask another person.  Fortunately Chileans are a friendly lot and this bloke really sweetly offered to show me the way, which was by no means a short drive, and practically dropped me off outside the company doors.  Once back at the place I pulled over and the van did what I can only describe as a huge wee, i.e. it emptied its guts of water out of its side.  I wandered around the premises and found a hostel at the rear.  Fortunately this was where the translator guy was staying and, after a few phone calls, the mechanic arrived.  He took a look at the water and said that it was the overflow prior to checking the van over.  He then took me on a test drive where the van appeared to wobble less.  We conceded that it may have been knocked into 4 x 4 or something.  Well I convinced myself that something like this had happened and I think they thought I was a silly female driver!  After the kerfuffle (anyone know how to spell that one?  Nope me neither) I set off again.  As soon as I got to the motorway it felt all wobbly again but I decided it wasn´t life threatening and carried on.

I arrived in Santiago late at around elevenish I think.  I thought it would be a good idea to locate the airport so that I could get there easily to pick my parents up the following morning.  I think I drove round the airport ring road thing about five times but I got there eventually.  Unfortunately, as I didn´t want to pay for any of the airport parking, I managed to drive round two of the restricted zones at the airport.  Fortunately I was able to do my, “I´m sorry I can´t help it I´m a stupid English girl”, look at the bemused guards so that they didn´t call for back up or shoot me. 

Having located the airport secure areas I headed back out of the airport, had to pay a toll for the privilige and spent the night in the van at a service station car park.