Where butterflies soar

In a park above the city of Santiago, the sun shines down and I watch a butterfly. Playing among the plants, the trees. 

And then it launches itself off the edge and away over the city.

I’ve already said I love cities. I especially like parks in cities. It always amazes me when I enter Green Park that almost instantly the roar of traffic, the noise of London, disappears. It’s a haven of peace inside the greatest city on Earth (yeah of course I’d say that). 

This is my meditation, staring out over a sea of skyscrapers, concrete and brick. 

Through the haze, the mountains rise up. 

And so from peace to anxiety. A pub crawl. Socialising. Being a metaphorical social butterfly. Turning up to a pub crawl alone...the only other people I spot alone are awkward looking men who find each other quickly. One later comes to talk to me about Orwell, picks me out as a Corbyn supporter (not really...) and later tries to grind on me. Typical.

I drink beer. I do vodka coke shots (?!). I do some really strong tequila and then retreat to a corner to drink the Budweiser a kindly American buys me. What must it be like to travel with friends? The only time I’ve travelled with a friend is Trek America  and we were with a group. And then in Australia with Rheya. 

Clubs are all the same. I heard “Blame it on the boogie” in Spanish, and then Robbie Williams to break up the constant wordless boom-boom-boom. 

I wake up in my dorm, in my pyjamas feeling very worse for wear. I have a wristband on for a club I don’t remember going to. I remember spending an hour counselling a guy about how to improve his relationship and lecturing him on how short life is and we have seize happiness where we can. 

I spend most of Saturday in bed.