Sometimes you catch a lucky moment. Sometimes its when you think there's little chance of being one. And sometimes its best to tell the ending of the story first. Tonight, I took a taxi home, having never reached my original destination. I returned with several new items: a soccer jersey, a baseball hat, two kites, and a headfull of permanent memories, those kind that weave into your head and you know will never leave you.

This is Chile. I'm not afraid of the risk of generalization here. I have met so many good people in this country. They are smart, tolerant, welcoming even on a busy street, and altogether some of the most fun people I have ever shared company with. And that's only after understanding probably a third of what their saying to me. I know this must sound like a compliment in excess, but I don't know how else to put it. Chile is fantastic.

It pains me to know that if my Spanish were just that extra bit better, I could communicate so much more. But that's just the "half-empty" approach. Most days I start with only a half-full idea of what to do and without fail something amazing comes out of it. I've wandered the artistic and admirable old streets of Valparaiso like any tourist could. But the more memorable moments are when you are pulled away from your daily objectives because they locals just won't let you visit without sharing a bit of their joy in life. It's happened three days in a row, so I don't think it's just bon chance.

Take today, for instance. I was en route to deliver you the long-overdue updates from Chile when I walked through a park for a scenic shortcut. After walking myself into a cul-de-sac, I asked some chalando-ing hombres sitting by a park bench if they knew a way out to the street. The result was an offering of some very detailed advice, and then a "Ven, ven..." as they motioned me to return. Within sixty seconds I was offered two different cups of alcohol and a cigarette. These are the moments that are worth "doing as the Romans do" so I joined in with this impromptu fiesta in the park. Turns out I had just encountered a group of 9 guys who worked construction in the local area, and had just finished with five hours of playing football on a beautiful sunny smoggy Santiago Saturday. They were patient with my Spanish and we joked the afternoon away.

It was sad to admit that I had to leave, but before I could give all of my farewells, one new amigo insisted I take his soccer jersey so that I could remember him as well as have something to remember the country by - it was a jersey of a local team named Abolengo (?) I was grateful of course and offered him my sunglasses, which impresed him greatly as well, probably for the sheer fact that they were from Canada. Then on returning to the streets, Daniel introduced me to several army guys watching over a tarmac strip that was used for military parades, whereupon I received a concise history of Chile from one of the sentries. I'm not sure if I understood the words, but I do understand that Chileans are very proud of their home and eager to share its charms.

This episode is just one of several instances that have convinced me of this. I wish I had time to recount them all.

I don't think I'm alone in the observation. Scott, an American, similarly grew attached to this place, and decided to return and ultimately, seven years ago, opened the hostel I stayed at in Santiago.

Of course, this Santiago leg was nothing more than a connection back to Buenos Aires, and it has nothing to do with my project. But I will remember it well. Tomorrow I am off to Mendoza, and it is sadly time to change the Chilean pesos back to Argentine ones.

Cuidate.