Yesterday evening, just after I had brushed my teeth, there was an 'apagón' (blackout) so I had an early night and woke up refreshed.

By the time I got to the Plaza, it was swelteringly hot and I moved around trying to find a bit of shade, while reading my book. I went to get a sandwich from a little discovery of mine, a small deli where they have lovely food. I keep getting a 'natural green' sandwich, which is divine.

On the Plaza, Nicolas started talking to me. He was a little strange, telling me how he was depressed because he hated his job, he had to work too hard, his grandmother was ill and he smoked and drunk too much. And it was also way too hot in Santiago in summer.

He wanted to practise his English and did so by asking me all sorts of completely random questions. I was so fascinated by his ability to jump from one topic to the next, that I found myself compelled to sit and wait for the next one. These were some of my favourites:
Q1. Are women in France as beautiful as they say?
Q2. What style of architecture are the buildings in London?
Q3. Do you like Asian culture? Would you like to live in Japan?
Q4. Is London really as foggy as in 'From Hell'?
(i.e. the film with Johnny Depp about Jack the Ripper)
Q5. Why is English food so bad?
Q6. Do you do drugs?
Q7. Do you like Sean Connery?
Q8. Do you know Pinochet? He used to meet with Margaret Thatcher.
Q9. Why is Flemish called 'flamenco' in Spanish?
Q10. Do you know any rude words in English?

He was like a little kid, discovering the world outside of Chile and I felt like the Oracle of Delphi, giving vague and cryptic answers which I am sure he barely understood as his English was quite basic.

Nicolas also asked me to translate the lyrics of 'Red Red Wine' by UB40 into Spanish. Very aptly, at that point we were joined by wino Octavio, clutching his cup of 120 ('el mejor vino de Chile' he said without a hint of irony*). Octavio kept talking to Nicolas, even though I made it clear I understood Spanish. Nicolas served as interpreter, translating slightly slurred Spanish into bad English. He taught Octavio, who was missing his top front tooth, how to say 'welcome to Chile' and 'you are very beautiful' in English.

At one point, Octavio said he thought it was so great that beautiful people like me, from Europe, came to Chile to help the poor. I thought this was my queue to give him money but no, he started crying and kept repeating how happy he was that we came to Chile. Nicolas got very embarrassed and motioned for me to get up. Octavio asked my forgiveness and asked Nicolas (!) if it was OK to give me an 'abrazo', a hug. We walked to the cathedral, Nicolas apologising I had to witness that. I said homeless people and drunks are, unfortunately, not only present in Santiago, which surprised him a lot.

The church closed and Nicolas said he had to go.
Nicolas: 'You are very beautiful, your boyfriend is very lucky'.
Me: 'I'll tell him when I see him tomorrow.'
He shook my hand, told me to be careful in the Plaza at night ('There are lots of drag queens and drug dealers you know') and disappeared. We had been talking for two hours.

After that I had the world's worst pizza (soggy bottom, cold tomatoes, mushrooms out of a tin and congealed cheese) at Mister Pizza and walked back to the hotel to finish my book. It was kind of a surreal day.

* the best wine in Chile. 120 is, together with Gato Negro, one of the cheapest wines you can get and it is vile. See my JLA trip to Torres del Payne for 120 and Gato Negro hangovers.