Quiero dos terremotos, por favor

During my time in Santiago, I endured a few shakes.

Hot off the heels of enjoying the local cocktail, terremoto (meaning earthquake, since you are left with the ground (and your legs) feeling very shaky after drinking it - that's the Chilean sense of humour for you!), I lived through a real life terremoto, or as I was later corrected, a temblor.

The difference between a terremoto (earthquake) and a temblor is that a terremoto shakes the earth up and down and a temblor side to side (or so I´m told by the locals).

The first time I woke up in the middle of the night, not sure what on earth was happening. My bed was shaking and it took me a while for my eyes and brain to focus and realise the whole room was shaking. Naturally, I just lay there in fear and made no attempts to move to a safe place.

Thankfully, it soon stopped and the next morning I was sure I had dreamt it, until Megan came into my room and said she had felt the same. Apparently they don't have earthquakes in Brazil: Claudia was up dancing with excitement over breakfast shouting "terremoto, terremoto!"

Angelica correctly predicted the quake as a 5 (well, it was 5.2, I told her she needed to make her predictions more accurate in future). But then came the big one.

I was with Med and Chris for this one, in the makeshift shed-come-lounge in the back of their hostel. This one I was acutely aware of from the very beginning, as the old, heavy TV, light fittings, fridges, stools and everything else in sight was shifting to and fro. Not only was it stronger, but it lasted longer too. But again, we all just sat there, eyes wide, muscles clenched. We'd make totally useless citizens.

This one was a 7.2 at source (to put this into perspective, the earthquake that destroyed Haiti was a 7.0) and a 6.8 in Santiago. The novelty had warn off now, especially after we were told not to leave the hostel for at least an hour in case buildings were damaged and electricity cables cut.

Luckily, that was the last big one we felt, although thousands rock Chile every year.

Med also suffered a different kind of shake while in Vina del Mar with Chris: he had his big backpack stolen from the hire car, leaving it for no more than an hour outside their hostel. Thankfully, there was nothing valuable taken, but it did leave Med clothes-less for a while with the relentless task of finding items big enough to fit him in a country full of small people.

No journey is perfect. Travellers go abroad knowing that, sometimes, flights will be delayed, baggage misplaced, hotel rooms disappointing and meals underwhelming. We know that the occasional bungle and hardship is all part of the experience, along with the freedom and moments of sheer joy.

Med is back in the game, with a new backpack, a few more clothes (of various quality) and the knowledge that the people who stole his bag have t-shirts and underpants with holes in.