504

This is all over the place, I already know.

FIVE-HUNDRED-AND-FOUR

December 2nd, 2025

Santiago, Chile

6:30 PM

Chile……..is definitely better than Peru, but I’m feeling dreary, feeling called for a change AFTER JUST MAKING A HUGE CHANGE. Despite it, I feel stifled, like I need something new. Maybe my lifestyle is just a never-ending trauma response and I didn’t even realize until now. Could that be what all this is?! I don’t know. But something has to happen…..even though it has been happening»»»»»I got the hell out of Peru, bus rode myself into a brand new country. On my second night here, I hit up TWO strip clubs just to shake myself out of this online camming monotony that is becoming less and less lucrative by the bloody pay period…because if I don’t do something quick, I’m going to get myself down a deep, dark, huuungry hole.

But the clubs were closed.

I walked for twenty minutes at 11pm¹, only to find the website for the club had the wrong hours listed. BOTH OF THEM. So I went back the next night and was relieved to walk right in. The first club…..denied me for legal reasons, the enormous manager very nicely explained (in good English) that the police come in too often to take the risk, that they could be fined a million pesos. He suggested the club next door and turns out……it’s a brothel. Found that out about 30 seconds after walking in, so uhm NO, that’s a strong no for me. The manager I spoke to, a stark contrast to the former, he was skinny like a snake, kind of twisted too, but he gave me the name of this club we’ll call: Pluto, which I wrote down, thanked him, and left.

But already I’m like EH.

I haven’t been shitting AT ALL, as if my body is terrified of me working at a strip club again….BUT I DON’T KNOW WHAT ELSE TO DO. I’M RUNNING OUT OF MONEY.

………..

Let’s talk about something else.

I never even mentioned my voyage over here, or how I’m finding this country…very possibly because I’m becoming very much OVER ALL OF THIS. But let’s see, let’s seeeeee….

I do like this city, it reminds me….initially I thought New York, but after a few days, I’m thinking more like Paris. Grand architecture set in a modern metropolis. A busy one. When I first got here….well, that’s another thing. I thought it was going to be about a day-and-a-half bus ride, but NO, it was almost two FULL days, and USUALLY I never get hungry on bus rides, it’s like my body goes into hibernation mode and I’m just waiting out the ride to feel normal senses of hunger again. But this was different. I was RAVENOUS and not at all prepared for it. At one point, I spent a long amount of time just staring out the window, willing the bus to pull over, pull over quickly, just one stop, PLEASE, I need to eat something.

And then it did.

Out of the blue.

The bus got off the highway, pulled into a random suburb, and stopped at a TINY station where I hit up the single food stand it had within the minutes we were there. Five medium-sized bags of Lay’s plain potato chips were purchased…..it was the biggest size they had. Those bright yellow bags were proudly carried up and into my high class, front row seat, that had ZERO seatmates….first time ever, it stayed empty the whole time (!!!!!!!) so I was sprawled out with my laptop playing Black Swan as I’m eating bag after bag after bag after bag after bag, five bags till I had nothing but the sound of those bags, dead empty, and noisy about it too. Initially, it was heaven to munch on a nearly endless supply of potato chips when I was as hungry as I was….I happen to like potato chips, growing up I was more drawn to pretzels (mostly because Mom avoided buying us fried food) but upon becoming vegan and finding out most pretzel companies put breast milk in their product, I quickly became very grateful for the ever abundant plain potato chips, and their three ingredient list in every brand there is…that you can find so plentifully: potatoes, oil, salt.

I’ll take it.

Thank you.

Obviously I’d prefer them alongside some chunky salsa, or my homemade hummus…..or chunky salsa and my homemade hummus mixed together (a winner every time) but on that day, after nothing but plain potato chip after plain potato chip, five medium-sized bags worth, a salt bomb exploding in my belly…..I was uncomfortably full from consuming it all, every chip (!!!!) but at least I was full, I could relax now, and not stare out the window psychically urging this bus to PULL OVER, PULL OVER RIGHT NOW, IT’S AN EMERGENCY²

It took a lot out of me.

After eating, I fell asleep for hours; by the time I woke up, we were maybe an hour out from Santiago. The almost two-day journey was done. It wasn’t a bad journey, pretty scenery, mountains, ocean, no seat-mate, hard to complain once the food issue was sorted, however, at one point, we passed a young family tilling a field: one mother, one father, and one child….and I do emphasize child, possibly five years on this earth and already handed a child-sized rake to work the soil. He didn’t look happy about it either.

The passage between Peru and Chile was interesting, little individual bus tickets needed to be purchased, multiples, a taxi ride needed sorting as well, and it looked like he took the LONG way. I had no idea what the hell was going on, but somehow muddled through it all until we were stopped at the actual, physical border (in the middle of what looked like a desert) because some kind of protest was going on. News cameras were there, interviews were taking place, police were everywhere, people with suitcases were singing in the road, children were running around and chasing each other, some of them dancing on the single road connecting the two countries…..it seemed, on the whole, joyful, not violent, but the border was definitely closed because of this and we had nothing to do but sit there in a line of traffic as we waited for the go ahead that took about two hours, give or take.³

I fell asleep!

And was woken by the bus driver hitting me up for more money, which caused my mouth to fall open because of it. WHAT do you mean?! Apparently, there was an extra charge no one told me about, or was invented on the spot as I lay vulnerable on a bus, in the middle of a massive border closing protest…..unable to hand over a single red cent. I’d spent my last on toilet paper for this journey I’m in the middle of…as I’ve come to realize these buses come with bathrooms but no toilet paper. Lesson learned back in Ecuador. So I told him I would pay in Chile, when I could access an ATM, not in the middle of the desert, on the actual, literal, border, nothing around but protestors, police, and the desert. So the driver said okay, spotted my ‘immigration fee’, then went back to the driver’s seat.

We waited some more, watching like children with a front view seat of it all, so close, it seemed as if the border closed seconds before we arrived—I’m telling you we could see it all, we were right in the middle of everything.

Eventually there was cheering, then a mass migration, the border had opened, and we were motioned forward to the stations ahead, multiple offices across the road from each other, a tall flag pole waving an enormous Chile flag in the distance, beckoning us all to pull through.

And so we did.

I was questioned. My luggage inspected. I was accused of smuggling fresh produce into Chile, green grapes, a big no no here…..something about the fruit flies. I am ghost white trying to explain my vegan lifestyle in Spanish, they stopped my frantic explanations and let me off with a warning. Relief. Hot and sweaty relief was coursing through me. They could have fined me hundreds!! It was also my last scrap of food. Should have eaten it when I had the chance.

The second we entered Chile the vibe was different, the air felt DIFFERENT: breezier, fresher, the scenery was NICER, by far. The ocean was right there (apparently hiding behind a massive sand dune) and we passed actual stores, a mall, and restaurants making me salivate at the mouth. I was so happy. The driver dropped everyone else off, drove a bit further with meeeee, then parked next to an ATM right inside the bus station I’d be taking my next bus to Santiago on. I figured I’d need a good amount of cash to eat, buy a bus ticket, and then whatever costs incurred on the way; so I took out what I thought was a lot. The currency was brand new to me, so I hit the second-highest amount on the ATM, stuffed the wad in my purse, and only brought it back out when I was inside the bus, having no idea how much I owed the driver…so I pulled out my wad, and he picked out the smallest bill⁴ then proceeded to give me change for it. Nice guy. Apparently, the immigration fees they inform you of in the middle of the desert are real.

It was about an hour till the next bus arrived, so I left my baggage in their little holding room and rocketed away, was feeling very free on my feet as I nearly RAN to the mall, scoped out a Tex-Mex-type place (similar to Chipotle) and got myself a stacked burrito bowl, every possible vegan topping was added and asked for extra (like a starving peasant) plus a big order of chips with two orders of guacamole. And a water. Multiple napkins.

….It wasn’t nearly as good as Chipotle, but still, I ate every single bit of it and considered buying another for the road. Instead, wary of time, I walked right back to the station, got on the bus, and was on my way to Santiago. Chile’s capital. She’s a LONG country, along the Chilean Sea, spanning down to the bottom of South America. Most of the country is by the ocean, but not Santiago; it’s more mountainous, so the drive over was really very pretty: ocean, mountains, a brilliant orange sunset over a sparkling sea just before a pure black sky took over.

It was around 9 at night when I arrived in a city that reminded me of New York: lots of traffic, giant buildings, people all around, smog and smoke swirling then disappearing into thin air, lots of people selling things, shouting things….I’m dragging my suitcase in the middle of it all, and I had my guard up. It didn’t feel like a great part of town. My goal was to settle in for the night: find a place to stay, go out for some dinner, then pass the fuck out. Dinner sounded necessary. I just needed to find a hotel first. On the way in, we passed a hotel on the main road, not too far back from where we landed, and so I set my sights to keep walking till I saw the giant sign, black letters with a white background.

There it was, with a troop of prostitutes out front and already chatting up potential clients, I sidestepped the party….which included a small dog in a purple jacket….and entered the hotel. A severe-looking woman greeted me and for some reason, the very first question I asked was if there was wifi. Good thing too because they didn’t, and I was turning around almost as soon as stepping inside…so I’m stepping outside, past the ladies (and the dog) that the men passed up on and at this point, I took the only option that felt feasible just then, because I was dead on my feet, unable to keep walking around, dragging my suitcase behind me, along with my will to live. A cab was hailed, having magically appeared within seconds, just like in New York, and I’m begging for him to take me to a hotel, ANY HOTEL, ANY HOTEL AT ALL.

He brought me to a place that looked like the Chateau Marmont. The massive structure sat taller than all the rest of the massive buildings around, with a grand driveway leading up to an imposing entrance with shrubbery and fountains and pretty lights twinkling around the mansion-like perimeter. It looked like the nicest hotel in the country, and I was too awestruck to turn it down. I’d spend one night, one lovely and very necessary, single night in a palace. And then I would go somewhere else.

The bellboys were falling over themselves to help me exit the taxi, opening the door, taking my bag, two of them fetching my suitcase from the trunk, and all three are escorting me inside with many muchos gracias’s. The welcome committee died once I reached the front desk, the man behind it looked at me like I was a smelly sack of shit splattered across the floor of his stunning lobby. Stone and grey marble, green and gold accents everywhere, elaborate light fixtures; I would have been more than comfortable. Almost immediately, the man tells me (in English, not even bothering with Spanish….I must have looked so supremely and obviously foreign here in this lobby of his) that the price for one night is about $125.

WAY cheaper than expected. Happy to take it.

I get out my debit card and already he’s smirking, snootily explaining they prefer credit cards. I tell him I don’t prefer credit cards, I don’t actually have a credit card…..to which he informs me if I insist on a debit card (MY ONE AND ONLY CARD) they will add a TWENTY PERCENT CHARGE. I’m sighing. Then asking for him to do the math for me and tell me how much one standard room would be for one night, which would be paid for by a debit card. He tells me $180. And upon that piece of information (which literally is not even the correct math, my Bing search is telling me otherwise) I nearly told him to fuck off. Instead I said: This is ridiculous, he didn’t look in the least bit concerned, and so I turned around to leave.

My cabbie was waiting. Like a proud dad yakking it up with the other dads, he stood out there in the enormous entrance with all three of the bellboys, smoking and animatedly chatting. However, upon the moment I walked out the giant glass doors, they’re all stamping out their cigarettes, rushing to help me with my bag, putting my suitcase back in the trunk, and the driver opened his door for me, looking beyond pleased to keep shuttling me around. We all waved goodbye, and then were back on our way.

Not long after that, I spotted the strip club I’d looked up. Chile has quite a few, it’s one of the reasons why I wanted to go specifically here, to the capital of the country, where I found multiple Instagram pages specifically for strip clubs. The club looked exactly as it did online, and right next to it is a swanky little hotel that was all lit up for Christmas. Again I’m motioning to the cabbie and he’s pulling over right away, assuring me he’ll wait until I’m checked in. I had high hopes for this one, it’s SECONDS AWAY from the club, and it looked nice too, not seedy at all, more like a boutique gem. However, I was disappointed to hear it was filled up to capacity, not a single room available for one single night. I thought maybe this front desk attendant didn’t like me either. She was a little snooty, or so it seemed, a little too quick to tell me no, a little too pleasant about it too….FINE, KEEP ALL THE ROOMS FOR YOURSELF THEN. I headed back to the cabbie, dutifully waiting for me on his own, no bellboys around, and we carried on our way.

The next was a winner.

Not too far away from the club was another hotel that looked like a fancy French bistro, an expensive one, and I’m pointing the cabbie toward it. He parks, I walk over, there’s a doorman, and he’s opening the door to an artfully decorated hotel….I actually thought it was going to be too expensive. The man at the front desk was extremely warm, rather good-looking, and he gave me a big smile, welcomed me right in, offered a red plush chair to sit in front of his desk, and then spoke to me in perfect English, once he realized my Spanish is (very) limited. I’m asking how much for one night and he told me the price in Chilean Peso, then translated it to USD for me. About $80 USD equals about 73,000 CP. I said I was happy to book for one night, only needed to get my suitcase and pay the driver first. Courteously he’s nodding, I’m back out the door held open by the doorman who was chatting with my very sociable cabbie like they’re best friends. He looked so pleased we found somewhere nice for me to stay. I gave him what he asked for, and then some more, as much as I could afford to tip because I knew my bank account would be getting mighty low if I was about to stay at a hotel and take myself out for dinner that night….and then find actual accommodation to stay for more than just one night (!!). He was very pleased when I didn’t take any change, thanked me profusely, waving me away with his cap, and then I’m walking back into the glowing hotel.

It was very pleasant checking in, the guy was such a charmer, he was curious about my travels, and I told him all about how much I hated Peru…except for Halloween, that was a great night. He was cracking up and I got the feeling he might be fun to party with. Right then, he told me about the rooftop bar and gave me a voucher for a free drink. I was like oooooooh gracias señor:) I knew I wouldn’t be hitting up the bar that night, but still, it’s a nice gesture. He then mentioned he’s not a fan of Peru either, actually said: It’s not like it is in the movies, eh? And I thought…..I’ve never seen a movie with Peru….ever. The only reason I even knew it existed was because my sisters went on a church trip BACK in the day to go help disadvantaged kids. They were housed in like….a ghetto, and my sisters were horrified, tarantulas were literally creeping around their sleeping quarters, but Double Gemini said it was a life-changing trip, and she enjoyed it in the end. But it was just a lot. A lot, a lot.

And so yeah.

This hotel charges extra for debit cards as well (WHY?!?!) but this angel waived the fee for me, and sent me upstairs after a lengthy handshake. The hotel was wine themed, not cheesily either, beautifully, with black and white marble, crystal chandeliers. I was given a room on the Cabernet Sauvignon floor, which was lovely: a big soft bed, my own personal chandelier above it, quite a large bathroom, a sexy shower with multiple nozzle functions. Oooooh I had myself a time. But that was the next morning, right then, I called Double Gemini, told her I made it to Chile, then ran out the door for the sushi restaurant down the road that was closing in just over an hour. The doorman warned me it was very dangerous, insisted I shouldn’t keep my phone out—I listened but abstained from rolling my eyes. Number one: You really shouldn’t go anywhere with your phone out in front of you walking around blindly at night. Number two: I’M FROM NEW YORK, and I’m not wheeling fifty pounds of luggage behind me in the Gotham City district I just arrived from. This area was nice, expensive, and reminded me of Park Avenue. Plus I’m a fast walker. No worries here.

There was zero problems whatsoever as I escorted myself 200 feet down the next road and into a pleasantly lit sushi restaurant. I was told to sit anywhere, and so I chose a four-person table beneath an old-world ceiling, elaborate white moulding gleaming from the soft orange light of the Chinese lanterns. Ooooooh I was in heaven, happy to stretch out, then ordered everything that appealed: two salads, cucumber and seaweed, two specialty sushi rolls: loaded veggie and loaded tofu, plus a main: a big plate of pad thai, annnnnd two bottles of their fancy bottled water I gulped down like I was dying.

Good lord.

The food wasn’t as good as the ambiance. The cucumber salad was the clear best. The seaweed was comprised of a weird seaweed, not like the usual….I ate it, but wouldn’t do so again. Both sushi rolls tasted…..watery. Almost no flavor, close to no texture, I didn’t like those either, neither, and I’VE NEVER had a bad sushi roll. Well…come to think of it….once, from the supermarket….and I can roll with supermarket sushi, as long as it’s made fresh. However, this sushi wasn’t supermarket sushi, but very expensive restaurant sushi, and it was on par with bad supermarket sushi, old supermarket sushi. A big disappointment. Have never had such flavorless food in my life. I still don’t understand it. HOW CAN IT TASTE LIKE WATER?!?! The pad thai was good, not amazing, but second best to the cucumber salad (which really was THAT good, the dressing was out of this world) and I ate a decent amount, spent a generous amount, over eighty bucks…as much as the hotel room that night, didn’t even want to think about my bank account. The logistical part of my brain encouraged me to box up the food so I could eat later, instead of abandoning the expensive portions and never laying eyes on them again. But I carried it home, resisted giving it away to the homeless man sitting close to my block because I still needed to find a place to stay TOMORROW, as well as the foreseeable future…and intended on feeding myself as it happened⁵.

Upon getting back to my beautiful room, I considered camming, it’s a smart move for prime hotel aesthetics….but I was just too tired. I ate a bit more of the pad thai, speared with the takeaway chopsticks I’m hopeless at using, then nearly drowned in the pillows.

I slept, woke, showered, searched for a CHEAP Airbnb, and decided on a nice hostel in a private apartment. It would have to do. I had a little over a hundred after buying a week at the hostel. I paid for a late checkout in cash the next morning, timed it exactly with my new Airbnb, which….is a shared apartment between four ever-revolving strangers. And that’s where I am now.

I like it, it’s a great location, I found my first all-vegan food store the other day. The cheese is shit though. I bought two different kinds. I AM SO LOW ON MONEY because online has been going horribly, I’m looking to the strip clubs because if I run myself into the ground….Guam will always fly me out, but with all of my being….I am desperate to avoid that, so finding a strip club in Chile sounds like the right alternative. Plus it will shake up my life WHICH I NEED. I need it bad.

The astrology of this month is supposed to be stellar……stellar for 2025 that is, like, BETTER THAN MOST. I pulled tarot last night and had mixed feelings. WHAT IS GOING ON WITH MY LIFE? No clue. I’m…….fantasizing about familiarity. Feeling too bogged down right now. I think it would be a relief to return to Guam, but I don’t think I should make that call unless I’m absolutely desperate, and I’m not there yet.

I’M GETTING THERE.

But I still have options.

Dwindling.

But there.

Sigh.

I’m sighing.

Yawn.

I’m yawning.

I wrote this later that night:

The path will grow dark,

ominous in its complexity,

harrowing in its inflexibility,

the light will die,

the guides will hide,

the road will end and through the trees you must march,

barefoot sometimes,

blistering without sunrise,

going so much further past you ever imagined it could be,

but still,

even still,

you must persist.

Melissa Ryan

1. The time specified for newcomers . Both the clubs opened at nine, and asked any appliers to come after eleven during work hours.

2. The driver of the bus is completely excluded in his own separate area, and the door to it has a sign that explictly states it’s against the law to knock on the door and distract the driver. I’d imagine….if it were a true emergency, the knocker wouldn’t be charged, but if I were to knock and ask to pull over for some food….I don’t think it would go well for me. Imagine the entry explaining the arrest!!

3. Double Gemini looked up what happened the moment I told her about it, she’s funny like that, mention something in the middle of a phone conversation and already she’s on her computer looking up specifics. A true Double Gemini if there ever was one. She told me what it was, I’m still foggy on the details, some sort of protest, peacefully settled….I think. Maybe this didn’t need its own footnote?! She had more specifics for me….but I’m editing this almost four months later and I don’t want to call and ask again.

4. You would think I’d be a bit more secretive with my cash flow, but something about the lack of sleep, constant shuttling, lack of food, lack of everything it seems…..I was caught at a weak moment. But not everyone takes advantage. It’s nice to know.

5. I ended up very much needing to eat the pad thai the following day, it was my first meal in the new place, I threw everything in a sauce pan, covered it in salt and went at it with RELISH. It tasted better there then at the restaurant!