An average day in Santiago is, seemingly, pretty average these days. I battle first world-style traffic – the kind that comes from affluence and more cars per capita – on my way to my modern high-rise office, often following the unloading of purse and coat with a Starbucks run. When I hear English spoken, I no longer start and stare. Even Japanese doesn’t catch me off-guard.
I move through my days much as I would in any major world city. An influx in imported products may have me spending more, but I miss less (or is it that I’ve acclimated?). The boom in variety among Santiago restaurants means I can eat just about whatever my heart desires. My friends and I are all BlackBerried and iPhoned and Facebooked to the gills.
And then, there’s this. Just outside the central part of Santiago but still very much in the city, bordering a shiny new business park. An open field. Horses grazing free, although I assume the piebald at least belongs to the boy on the bike who came along and tried to catch him as I was taking photos.
A little reminder that while parts of the capital may be a modern metropolis, and I may live a globalized, international lifestyle, much of Chile – and even Santiago itself – falls outside my day-to-day.