¡Domingo flojo! Despierta tarde en el mediodía, llama al tren, pa’ver q pasaría ... Narnia? No no no no no.
So I line up a trip to the deep-pit copper mine. Chido! At which it point it starts to hail around here, and the company cancels. (Liability issues. Chile is not Mexico, it seems.) So I figure, hey, Chile has restarted passenger train service, why not chill in Chillán? Metro to the train station, thin attractive woman a little older than me and wearing this cute little neo-hippy snoopy hat sells me a ticket with just the right amount small talk to remind me why I like this country so much. Only ... she realizes that the return trips are all sold out. I debate taking the bus back, decide no, and now regret it. WTF am I going to do in Santiago on a rainy lazy Sunday? Work in my hotel room? Too depressing!
I'll figure something out. Meanwhile, Doug Muir is in Senegal, with details here and here. I, of course, am fascinated by the French influence. As always, don't expect pictures from Mr. Muir, but do expect lots of information, historical detail, and very good analysis about what it all means.
You can also go here and here on this blog, where we discuss another part of the French not-empire in West Africa, or here, where you find out how Burundi got a handle on infectious disease.
I'll be back with more about regional inequality, copper, and the effect of the Panama Canal on Chile, but right now I'm going to go brave the rain and wander aimlessly around Santiago for a while. I will, however, take requests for any Chile-related topics you might want to know more about. (Randy has one pending on regional inequality.) Hasta pronto, mis cuates desconocidos.
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