Santiago 2-15: The Unfortunate Guitarist

In the main cathedral in downtown Santiago, a few blocks from The Ciudad de Vitoria Hotel where Plot and Duck are now staying...

This altar is pure silver.



This one is pure alerce wood.



In the mercado central, also downtown, these tourists are happy because the menu is nothing but local seafood -- they have just ordered shrimp a la plancha and grilled congrio.





Man, each vacation the boy's hair gets whiter and whiter.

While Plot and Duck were eating their lunch, on the second floor looking down at the main floor of the market below, they had a lot of fun guessing where each couple might be from -- ha ha, they must be English. Ha ha, those two are gringos for sure.



This couple who had ordered the King Crab had to be from France, Germany or England -- she ate with her left hand, and fork upside down, which made her European, and his hat made them English or German but there was a bottle of wine on the table so that made them probably French.



But then came a moment Plotnik only tells you about because you know he has been in the position of musicians like these many times. You will forgive his lack of polite discretion in the following matter.

He also vows not to write in this blog every day, because he thinks it is kind of pathetic to be on vacation and keep blogging. Actually, he probably will keep blogging but he wants you to know he recognizes the pathology.

Anyway, these three guitarists were walking around through the tables, singing songs and attempting to cadge tips from the people eating their crabs and lobsters. They ended one song on a particularly long, full-throated and beautiful three part harmony...



...let us put this with all due constraint and compassion, adding only that Plotnik was directly above them and was able to view what followed with true clarity. It is also true that he just about choked on his water when the guy in the blue shirt turned to his left and sneezed like a pinchi cabron.

This was no puny little American sneeze, it was not even a true Plotnik Sneeze, it was the Sneeze of September 18, that is the Sneeze that brought Independence to Chile.

Projectiles issued from the poor bastard's nose. And not just puny little projectiles. Plot won't mention the color, but he'll hint at it below. The effluent covered the man's guitar, and his glasses, and his pants, and probably ended up on the shoes of the woman that you see next to the dude in the white cap. The other two troubadors kept holding their note, but turned backwards to stare hard at their third compañero.

The guy ran away.

He sneezed again. This one wasn't so bad, but, see, now everybody was watching.

He ran under the overhang, sweat and embarrassment covering his face, and Plotnik felt for him. Still, for the sake of journalistic integrity, he then repeated the story to everyone around him, who also found it quite entertaining.

Reporting live from Santiago de Chile, this is El Gran Plotnik with local color, which was kind of like lapis lazuli.