What happened was, we’d done a Google DevFest all day, dealing with crowd overflows and balky Internet connectivity and covering too many sessions with too few speakers in a hot room with not much ventilation. After, Fumi and David and I climbed out of the taxi by our hotel in the financial-as-in-boring part of town (although the name of the street is pretty wonderful: Avenida Isidora Goyenechea). I spotted some sort of patio with awnings and trees and said “Let’s have a drink”, so we found ourselves settled at Tiramisú which is called a pizzeria on some maps, but has higher aspirations.

We ended up spending four hours there; for me, the only real relaxation during the ten South American days. Pizza and wine and good company (Trevor joined a little later) and watching the street pass by.

It was a perfectly nice patio and the food was good, but eventually I stepped inside and my goodness, what a room.

Interior of Tiramisú restaurant, Santiago de Chile

They politely but firmly had us patio-sitters secure our knapsacks and camera bags and so on to trees and railings and so on; I guess there are some banditos around, although I must say Santiago felt entirely safe and peaceful to walk around in.

Buskers came by; a man and woman and two boys, one the age of my own, who sang traditional Andean music with verve, Dad on guitar and the boys on clickers; I hoped they were making a living, and missing my own son keenly, tipped lavishly.

I wonder if I’ll ever go back to South America?

author · Dad
colophon · rights

November 11, 2010
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