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And so it begins...

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Flights were relatively painless and trying to arouse sympathy for my knee, meant that I fought of many people to secure myself a whole row to myself and felt no guilt. I had a foreign man sat next to me on the flight from London, who somehow managed to spill the entirety of his drink all over my foot, but being linguistically challenged he didn't actually tell me. I caught him sniggering as I felt the sticky swamp that lay around my foot. Idiot.

Arrived in Santiago and we headed for Viña, which was only an hour or so away, the other side of some absolutely enormous vineyards, that really got me fancying a nice glass of wine. What else would you want after 24 hours of travelling? Water? Sleep? Decent food? Not for me…a nice glass of red wine was what I was pining after.

Entering the town (although the locals think it is a city, even though it's the size of Sutton) we were hit immediately by a wave of wealth. Lots of beautiful people, people jogging along the beach and just generally quite a cosmopolitan feel, and I realised that I was home!

Our work had found us an apartment, which is rather a cushy number. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms and the most amazing, unobstructed view of the beach, in Viña and Valparaiso (which is the nearby port, meaning that there are constantly sailors walking around town, which is pretty surreal). We were pretty impressed by the flat and the views really were perfect. Then we had a look around. Two rooms boast the most disgusting poo-coloured carpet you have ever seen and the third, which is now mine, had a carpet that had once been blue but was now just grey. It took us a while to work out why and it was only when I went to get the Hoover out and in some sort of comedic style I gave it a tug and the whole nozzle fell of and sent a puff of dust everywhere, lovely stuff.

The piece de resistance in my room has to be the 'beautiful' mural on the wall. It is a somewhat Picasso-esque interpretation of a portrait type scene, with 5 ladies butt naked with pointy boobs. Not overly normal and I have attempted to hide them with a wall of photos, but it has been pretty unsuccessful, so I have embraced the work of art and I don't know what I'm going to do when I have to wake up without the most atrocious artwork on my wall. (Maybe mum could prepare a mural for my return next year?!)



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My Year Abroad

Viña del Mar, Chile