By Mark Flager, Sales Manager | November 26, 2018 ( Comments)
Before you sight the Silver Cloud alongside the pier in Ushuaia, before the first briefing on zodiac landings and IAATO regulations, before the first admonition about the Drake Passage, you have to get to Santiago, Chile.
There are too many guests flying in from around the world, and too few scheduled flights to Ushuaia, to expect everyone to show up on time in the “southern-most city in the world.” When expedition ships sail from Ushuaia, there isn't a “next port” where a late traveler can board. For this expedition, Silversea gathered guests in Santiago, for a charter flight on Thanksgiving Day to Ushuaia. (Other expeditions use Buenos Aires.)
We flew from Miami to Lima on a “757 11/13 Revision,” according to the seat-pocket guide; it was the roomiest economy seat ever. (There was a priest on the flight, which was somehow comforting. He scored a bulkhead seat with unlimited legroom. He had connections.) The flight from Lima to Santiago used an A321, with the worst leg room in the air. Luckily it was a shorter flight. We arrived in Santiago bright and early on Nov. 21, found our pre-arranged transfer to the Santiago Sheraton, upgraded to an early check-in, had breakfast and took a nap.
The Santiago Sheraton is the largest hotel in Santiago, a five-star property located amid city gardens and parks and perfectly consistent with Silversea (in case you were wondering). The line offered optional tours to the city, vineyards and coast for those on its pre-package. We consulted with Igor the concierge, who marked up a city map and sent us out and to the right for a 15-minute walk to the cable-car station for San Cristobal Hill, the second-highest elevation in the city, which is topped by a 14-meter statue of the Virgin Mary.
The tram provides an intermediate stop before the summit, where we found gelato, construction and a huge empty swimming pool amid gardens and scuptures. We took the funicular down the Hill, a funhouse open-car train with great views and creaks.
Guidebooks say the city's newness is based on its past wracking earthquakes; on main boulevards and leafy side streets, you could imagine yourself in Los Angeles. That it's also a city of small kids, bikes and dogs helps that view. After the funicular we found ourselves in the Bellavista district, a funky nightclub and bar district that puts you in mind of Wynwood in Miami. We ambled on past the university district and across the Mapocho River, running fast and muddy from the Andes Mountains to the ocean; its concrete banks through the city are a permanent billboard for political graffiti.
Through another park and into another, more upscale neighborhood full of bars and restaurants, we noticed a number of percussion buskers, banging out nice riffs and panhandling. Most were in teams, but one was solo. He'd found a nice niche for himself, standing in the middle of a one-way street wearing a bass drum and cymbal on his back and spinning occasionally like a dervish, faster than should be possible without flying out of control. Cars and bicyclists gave him a wide berth.
Back at the hotel, we headed to the lobby bar for the Pisco sour we forgot to have on the layover in Lima. It was going to be an early night, as we had a 4:30 am transfer to the Silversea charter flight to Ushuaia. Seemingly from nowhere, a swimwear fashion show commenced in the bar. A city of infinite charms, as the guidebooks say.
