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TRAVEL BLOG ENTRY
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“You know you're in Sud America when .....” |
Well first let me start with Sud America ....
You know youre in Sud America when ....
1. Any excuse for a celebration
The flight from Santiago to Rio passed relatively uneventfully as far as flights go ... but you know you're with a plane load of South Americans when the decibel count rises by about 10, there's laughing, shouting, clapping ... Something that only goes down when the Penrith Tigers board the plane from Sydney to Bali I guess.
Anyway as I was sayin, any excuse for a celebration. As we flew over the Andes ... my god, what a site that was, but as you'd expect there was quite a bit of turbulence. Did the Sud Americans take that lying down? Hell no! Let me put this another way. Last time you were in a plane going through turbulence, doesnt everyone around you just sit there, white knuckled and grim? Not the Sud Americans! They were shouting like it was a goddamn roller coaster or something. "Areba!" "Woompahh!" "Ole!" You'd think it was a soccer match between Brazil and Argentina amd Ronaldo just kicked one in. Crikey! First I thought it was a bit of a mistake, like the joke was on me and they'd soon settle down when they realised the bloody plane could hit Mt Erebus or somethin. Didn't they know planes go down and all those dyna bolts have the most incredible stresses on them? Apparently not. Jeez I sat lookin at them with those eyes the lion dude in Madagascar has when he looks at the mob of zebra. (For those of you who haven't seen that its when the lion sees the zebras as just chops) ... Ohhh do behave!
Anyway as I was trying to say before I got carried away it was no accident. When we passed over some other mountain range an hour or so later the same thing happened. "Ole!" "Wooompahhh!" They were almost doin the freakin Mexican wave in the plane. Ohhhh those Sud Americans!!!
2. You know you're in Sud America when ... time means nothing. Kinda like "Islandtime!" This message struck home when changing flights from Santiago to Rio. I had precisely 5 minutes to get from the International Terminal to the Domestic terminal, which as you'd imagine could only be accomplished by revving a Porsche Boxter or sprinting through the terminal bashing people aside as I shouted "Perdon!" "Scusay!" As luck would have it, I ran into this Australian/Argentinian chick with the same bizarre flight connection who who could speak perfect Spanish. So I just panted and puffed in her wake as she screamed in Spanish. Have no idea what she was sayin, but it seemed to work!! Probably something like you're mother wears army boots, and I'll cut your tongue out or words to that effect .. It cut a mighty strange picture, me sprinting with a full backpack (not the big one, mind you) following some chick shouting obseneties across the Santiago terminal.
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