“Cuarenta mil pesos,” the cabbie had said when I asked the price for a ride from the international airport to the bus station. I sleepily agreed. But now I was awake, and 40,000 pesos equaled approximately $90. For a 15-minute cab ride. Twenty minutes, an argument in broken Spanish, and 10,000 pesos later, I got out at the bus station, pulling my gear from the car while the cabbie glowered at me. Clearly, this was the grit side. This was a solo adventure to Chile and Argentina to ski, meet up with friends, and complete another little side mission. Skiing was the focus, but South America’s legendary capitals of Santiago and Buenos Aires are famed for their style and glamour… and I needed a dress for a big event the day after I returned to the U.S. I couldn’t resist the opportunity to see what the designers in this part of the world had to offer. All I needed—in between climbing and skiing some big mountain lines—was to slip into one of the many trendy, artsy boutiques, and to secure a thick bag to protect my purchase from ski edges and crampons, then mission accomplished.
“Skiing was the focus, but South America’s legendary capitals of Santiago and Buenos Aires are famed for their style and glamour… and I needed a dress.”
LesLie Anthony
This, however, was proving more difficult than I thought, and while standing in Santiago’s Estación Central, upscale shopping was the farthest thing from my mind. From here, buses left for all corners of the Andes. The station, a huge, open-air maelstrom of humanity, teemed with travelers, vendors hawking trinkets, and an overwhelming amount of noise, colors, and possible destinations. I stood still, arms hooked through my bags to deter thieves. I literally had made no plans beyond showing up in Chile. Choices for skiing were wide open. The first ticket booth in sight had a sign for Chillan, about 8 hours away, leaving in 15 minutes. I recalled that the ski area there, Nevados
de Chillan, had been getting tons of powder this season, so I headed that way. A week later, I was back on the bus, equally exhausted, heading back to Santiago. The Chillan sidecountry and ski hill had offered knee deep powder for days of great skiing, followed up by me tagging along with a crew from Casa Tours south to Curaucatin, for a weather-thwarted attempt to climb and ski Volcan Lonquimay. It was a perfect powder and adventure fix for week one. My entry back to bustling city life was abrupt, with another 6 a.m. arrival at the grimy bus station. I was meeting some of my respectable, non-dirtbag friends at Santiago’s sleek Hotel Aubrey. A fivedollar cab ride (price settled beforehand) dropped
me in the city’s trendy Bella Vista neighborhood, worlds apart from the chaotic bus station. At that point all I could think about was a shower and sleep, but with only a day and a half to kill in the sunny capital city, visions of sashaying around boutiques and selecting from racks of amazing garments danced in my head. Wisterias perfumed the morning air, and somewhere in this neighborhood would be the perfect vestido. Bella Vista, though filled with stylish Santiaguinos, didn’t give up its shopping secrets to me. Tiled sidewalks, cafes, eclectic old Spanish architecture, and gorgeous design inspiration were everywhere. It was easy to dress in the one presentable urban outfit I had with me, but it was harder to get into the material acquisition mindset. I finally realized that I just wanted to get back to skiing, dirty or not, and I wasn’t feeling the city vibe at all. I gratefully kicked the shopping mission to the curb the next morning as we headed up to the nearby Valle Nevado ski resort, where we
WAM • SUMMER | 2012
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