I wrote in one of my first posts that travel is a strange thing, that we often do not and cannot foresee the futures that wait for us. We can make predictions and plans, certainly, but what awaits us will always have that uncertain spark of chance.
As I write this, I am sitting in a flat in the centre of the city of Santiago, in Chile. This isn’t a matter of couchsurfing or staying with a friend; I rent this flat with my partner, Anabel.
I have a job now, teaching English as a foreign language, mainly to businessmen who wish to improve their grasp of the language, to better deal with their European and American counterparts.
The pay is good and the work is rewarding.
I have been here for a total of two months.