Ahh the Pacific Coast Highway…top down, hair blowing in the wind, pimped out hot rod, beautiful blonde riding shotgun, sun setting over the Pacific, sounds like the California Dream right?
Let me introduce you, my esteemed reader, to the next big thing, I will call it simply, the Chilean Dream: We are speeding up a coastal section of the PanAmerican; the top is most definitely not down as I am lying in my seat-cum-bed on the first floor of a pimped out bright green double-decker TurBus; the only things blowing through my hair are the crumbs from the alfajor the guy in front of me is eating; there is a burly-looking-miner-type man snoring next to me (I am sure his wife thinks he is beautiful, I wonder if he was one of the famous 33?) How exactly is this like the California Dream mentioned above? Well, shit man, this is Chile for peets sake! So what if I am not actually driving this oversized tricked-out gargantuan of a vehicle and would prefer it if (rather pray that) the man sitting to my right doesn’t proposition me for a quickie on the side of the road. Even though I have been in the doldrums as of late, I am in Chile I tell myself, "live in the moment"; and so I go back to being in my dream of sorts: I am transfixed by an infinite mirror of beautiful yellows, pinks and reds over the normally deep-blue Pacific.