This article is part of the The Great American Reach Around series.
Nestled between the Andes Mountains and the Chilean central coastal range lies the urban metropolis of Santiago, the Chilean republics capital. The city plays home to some six million people. With cold rainy winters and hot dry summers the city's Mediterranean climate makes for some good living, except for certain punctual problems like the nasty air pollution, the noise contamination among others.
The city also used to boast one of the worlds nicest subway systems (Metro) which now due to the implementation of the new transport system has become a human plagued hell for those unlucky enough to need to ride it. The bus system that complements the metro in this ambitious plan has remained stable, in its usual chaotic existence.
Santiago boasts several areas of cultural and architectonic value such as museums and government buildings, the presidential palace being just one such place in the middle of the so called 'civic' neighborhood, called civic because almost all of the countries ministry buildings and major government offices are all there. They were built there in the 1930s, giving the place a uniform look to all the buildings. There is a thriving nigh-life scene in Santiago particularly in the Barrio Suecia, and Bellavista districts of the city, somewhat dangerous night-life but thriving none the less.
As an up and coming megalopolis that enjoys some of Latin Americas highest standards of living the city is rapidly growing economically and in general pushing upwards. All this has come with certain costs such as pollution issues and most negative aspects of city life that most people now blame on globalization.
The government predicted some two years ago the Chile would become a developed nation by the year 2014 about. Most people don't take this prediction seriously given the many times too optimistic and populist nature of several politicians in our political system.
Simply put, if I had Johnny Manziel’s physical gifts, you better believe I would be there in the Weight Room, getting to bed early, doing whatever I had to do to be the best possible athlete I could be. I wouldn't be posting on social media about sucking titties. I wouldn't even look at a titty, buddy. I'd look at a titty and see two big footballs.
A real friend doesn't move until the middle of August, ensuring temperatures in the 90s and a humidity that turns boxers into moist balls of ruined cotton.
Expendable? You must be joking.
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