Sunday, October 10, 2010

A day at the races, Sporting Club in Viña

When Kate invited me to go to the races in Viña, I thought many things. I thought, no, work! and then I thought no work! And in the end, I decided to go because who else is going to make me get up and out of the city and go see horses run around a track and people lose their hard-earned money on them.

Kate was staying in Valparaíso somewhere, but I convinced her to come and meet me at the bus station, and after a wholly delicious and crispy fresh vegetarian lunch at the restaurant called Tropical which seems to have no website (silly rabbits, I'd give you free publicity!), and then a coffee at Samoeido where I snuck this pic of Kate while she was snapping me.


We (she, I am sense-of-direction-free) then navigated over the Club Sporting, which is on the other side of the Marga Marga, which at least one tourbook calls "a stagnant, stinking lagoon" that runs through Viña. I take umbrage with this, since in parts, it does not even run anywhere, and also, is completely dry, so dry so that there's a giant fería in it, and hey, that's not fair, the ferias in Viña run until nighttime! In Santiago you snooze and you lose with the veggies.

And then we went in through what is not the official entrance of the place, but where employees and the like wander through, and thank goodness we did, because got to see the spraying tanker truck filling up with its characteristic bra and undies flag above. Didn't know? Me neither.


And we wandered around and placed a bet or two with the kid with braces who didn't seem even old enough to bet himself.


And we were a giant spectacle, the gringas (women, even!) with their English, and their skirts and their mega cams. But then the horses started running and everyone forgot all about us, as they should.


And the flags flapped.


And we studied the racing forms carefully.


And made merciless fun of the strange English-esque names, but not of the horses, nor the jockeys, because look (and horsehats with earsleeves, who knew?):


and someone who was as lucky as I was did a little origami with his losing chit.


And then we ambled back, and I got back on the bus, having worked not a whit, (which I am paying for today) and Kate went on her way, up to La Serena, and later to Copiapó, where she will hopefully join the media circus re: miners, about which I am simultaneously a little jealous and not at all jealous.

But hey, horses. uyyyy, bad joke.


Kate said...

You sneaky devil. I count at least two pictures of me and one of a body part of mine. Come to think of it, those are my bra and panties, too. Nice recap of a lazy day - well, lazy as it gets when you don't sit down for more than 20 minutes at a time. Men are singing in the streets here in Copiapó - off to beddie bye. Wish you were here!

PS My word verification is "tackly."

Eileen said...

Hey, all bets are off once you say I put the fun in funicular. Didn't think you'd mind, can't even see your face! And just knew those were your unmentionables, which is how you explain your ultralight backpack.

Yeah, I like to keep moving. Is is too much? Tell me if it's too much. I know it is. I do jump around alot, it's true.

Hope Copiapó turns into something, and something good. Tackly, indeed.

Margaret said...

Great post Eileen- Looks like a fun day and how can you say it was lazy? You got this post out of it and something tells me you will work all that hard-earned information & photos into a variety of other reports and places!
BTW- your verification word thingie is getting very creative... my word is "spinge" and I desperately want to put a definition with it! I think it's the verb for making origami out of losing racing bets!

Anonymous said...

I've always wanted to go watch the horse races - purely out of curiousity. I took riding lessons when I was younger and anything above a quick trot would startle me, but horses still fascinate me.

Abby said...

I love ponies. Going to Club Hipico is on my Chile Bucket List. Great photos! My word is nures, like nurses, but not quite.