¡Qué suerte!

After borrowing a rather disgruntled Canadian man’s phone (which had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I couldn’t figure out how to use the pay phone…), I was told by her father that Caitlin was on her way to pick me up. Feeling helpless without a phone and extremely skeptical that we would be able to find each other the old fashioned way, I stepped out into the carpool lane. Within a matter of seconds, Caitlin came bumping up in her little blue Honda and scooped me from the curb. I hadn’t even set my bags down yet. Surely it can’t always be that easy.

We narrowly avoided the onset of rush hour, the weather was uncharacteristically warm and sunny, and the whole day was before us! What luck, ay? We went to a restaurant called Earth to Table for lunch and although they were fresh out of the token Canadian delicacy known as poutine (hope I got the spelling right), we had a delicious lunch. Then my lovely hostess took me down to the waterfront (of Lake Ontario, that is) where we got coffee and perused the ship yard. After we wore ourselves out, she took me back to her humble abode in Hamilton and I saw firsthand how Canadians live…the same as Americans.

After that, we were ready to eat again! On the way to the airport we stopped at the Bean Café for dinner. The food was scrumptious (kudos to Caitlin…2 for 2 on restaurant selection!) and we may or may not have gotten a huge slice of chocolate almond mousse cheesecake for dessert. It was around this time that I decided that I like layovers in Toronto much better than in New Delhi. Caitlin dropped me back off at the airport with a hug and a promise of Tim Horton’s and poutine upon my return trip. DEAL.

Not much to report back at the airport. I breezed through security (hand grenades and all!) and got situated at my gate. Sidenote: I’m convinced that the Canadians have better commercials. Or rather, their marketing directors seem to cater to my unwavering appreciation for slapstick humor.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OX5sXVNa_PE

As far as layovers are concerned:

Enjoying spotty free WIFI and side-splitting TV ads with full belly of yummy Toronto cuisine…trumps paying to use restrooms and sipping overpriced instant coffee at the Delhi airport for 17 hours.

The true test of my lucky streak would be the seating arrangement on the overnight flight to Santiago. I was genuinely shocked that I was not in the last row of seat by the bathroom. As I made my way to row 33, I spotted a large Chilean with a questionable large sweat stain on his back despite the chilled cabin temperature. Here we go, I thought…ten hours with the Sweatmeister. But NO! As fate would have it, I found myself seated between a tall and good looking American who I had spotted before boarding and a very benign elderly man. Ok, someone definitely made a mistake.

This is when the good luck got kicked into high gear. When the plane started taxiing, I looked around and realized that only about a third of the seats were full and several rows in the back were EMPTY (prime for sprawling). I apologized to my short-lived seat buddies, collected my bag, had the tall hunk check to make sure the coast was clear, and sprinted back to claim a row for myself. I spotted the one I wanted and came in for a landing…which would have been smooth aside from the fact that there was a man already laying there. I had plopped my bag on his chest and sat on his chins before I registered that there was a human beneath me. Oopsies. He was very good-natured about the whole thing and we ended up chatting for an hour or so…in SPANISH!!! He was a Chilean who was returning after having worked at a ski resort all winter. Turns out he was my age, studying electrical engineering, and also happened to be rather attractive. Although he was keen to converse with me and practice his English for the duration of the flight, I left him after a bit in search of a makeshift bed.

I passed up two studly guys in favor catching some Z’s in an empty row of seats. I staked a claim on three empty seats. I glanced over and there was a gorgeous and chiseled young man in the next row. I hope all of the Chilean men are this attractive! I LOVE THIS COUNTRY ALREADY!!! So here I am, fully reclined and well-rested, typing away, and casually stealing glances at the lovely Latino to my left. Life is good. And will be even better when the breakfast cart makes its way back to me.

That’s all for now…I’ll update again once I get my bearings in Santiago!