As the taxi carried us to Santiago airport, where we still have two and a half hours to wait out the inevitable departure, I could see the red, white and blue kites flying high above the tin rooves of the city's outskirts, shadowing along the highway the path of the condor.
I will end this blog the same way that it began, in Atlanta, with uncertainty and an insatiable appetite for movement.
The visit with Joaquin was a good way to finalize our time in South America, for now. I will muse on it further while crammed into the Boeing, and finish up when we get back to humid, sweltering Atlanta concrete.
Chile will take a little time to organize.
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