We rented a compact car from a small local outfit. The company rep was a young, energetic guy with a shaved head. He seemed relieved to see us and eager to get on with his day. When we arrived at the car, parked directly in front of the terminal, he motioned for me to get into the passenger seat so I could fill out the paperwork. When I was done, he handed me the keys and left on foot. Garam got in, and I sat in the driver’s seat, amazed at the ease with which I obtained a car in this exotic land—a couple of clicks, sign here, and off we go.
Nov 21, 2015
Garam and I arrived at San Francisco airport early. While we were waiting in the security line, I heard somebody call my name and turned to find a friend from graduate school, flying to Israel on business with his company.
We arrived at last in Santiago de Chile, the “de” being added by people in-the-know, I learned. We were exhausted and reeking of vomit, because our daughter Sofia decided to puke everywhere just as we were preparing to deplane.