Seriously, these people know how to make wine. Stop me if I've already mentioned it, but two bottles of red were waiting for me when I moved in to the apartment building, and they were both superb. If you come across the Santa Rita vineyard, aim for a bottle of Medalla Real; you will not be disappointed...
Working with Chileans is a joy: they're intelligent, keen, open and uncomplicated; at least, those I've had the good fortune to meet so far are. The pretty girls at Starlight Coffee now know my order and have asked me where I'm from. It's strange; the little shop has one of the best locations in the centre, in a leafy pedestrian area next to the beautiful Teatro Municipal, but seems to be no more than a secret tip, a bit like my little lunch counter place over the way from my yoga class in Toulouse. I'm not complaining; there's always a table to sit at, watch the world go by and realise I'm sitting there without a cigarette in my mouth. That still feels strange, too; this is the first time in my adult life that I've ever been on my own as a non-smoker. That might sound pretty bland, but it makes me realise how much the weed determined my life. In some ways it still does, I suppose, otherwise I wouldn't be mentioning it, now. The desire to smoke when I first went out was overwhelming but, curiously, was not difficult to resist.
Tomorrow I'll post a few pictures so you can see what a lucky bastard I am to be here. The only downside is that the TV is shit, not that I'm any great fan of it anyway, but still. Maybe there'll be a football match I can tune into, tonight.
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