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Hoisting my giant, green, turtle shell of a backpack off of the luggage carousel, I realized I had no plan. I frantically tapped on my iPhone, discovering no joinable networks. No where to go, no way to get there. ‘But I’m resourceful,’ I reminded me, as I approached the customs agent, proudly handing over my flawless passport, acting on a new agenda beyond acquiring my first souvenir. ‘Where would you go to spend a day in Santiago?’ I asked, smiling. He stared down at me blankly. ‘Donde… el Dia - Santiago?’ I tried again, adding gestures and an offensive accent, smacked by a tidal wave of my own ineptitude. Another agent arrives and I’m suddenly concerned that I have triggered some alarm by revealing how unprepared I am to be let loose in a foreign city. They talked amongst themselves, and eventually wrote down an address in my notebook. I was delighted to uncover this local’s-only gem that they had surely bestowed upon me. Outside, I get scooped up by a cab driver with whom I cannot communicate beyond pointing to my newly attained treasure map. We take the highway and sail ahead of the morning commute. I feel affluent with an entire day and city to myself to explore. Pulling up in front of an outdoor mall, I craned my head around every window to see what I’m there for. The cab driver gestures toward a Starbucks. It is not yet open. I sat on a bench outside, destitute, watching people walk to work, waiting for coffee and wifi. My big day of adventure had become time to kill until I could check in to the AirBnB, all the while dragging around my forty pound bag. Once Starbucks opened, I discover that I brought the incorrect adaptor to charge my phone, which was almost dead. I look up the distance to my accommodations and decide that walking the six miles is the best way to see the city, kill the time, and arrive at my destination. I toddled along, through a city district with ground level store fronts, past many auto dealerships, and dead end into a freeway, having to backtrack to cross it. In the sprawling suburbs I spotted a cab filling up at a gas station, and ran after it only to watch it speed away as I stumbled into the lot. Finally, I made it to the address. The building was a run down, squat apartment. There was a large man at the front gate, sitting on a stool, an unofficial guard. He shakes his head. I’m not where I’m supposed to be. I wander the neighborhood and record a message into my GoPro, to serve as my last will and testament, in case they never find my body. A red, two door car stops in the middle of the street and the operator wags his finger at me. It appears that he isn’t a fan of my filmmaking, but luckily my predicament is apparent. He abandons his running car in the middle of the street and we walk into a market. The butcher behind the counter hands him a phone, and he calls my destination. He speaks with the host, and everyone has a chuckle, which I assume means I am very far off course. He drives me to the train station, and walks me upstairs to help me purchase a ticket. He points to the end of the line, and I’m not sure if he is helping me get where I am going or just far away from here. It’s getting late. The last stop is in a business district, and I hail a cab. The driver shakes his head when I show him the address, but I refuse to exit the vehicle. He calls into his dispatch, and then reluctantly drives me. I am dropped off at an official security gate of a condo community, where I am handed the key. In the elevator on the way up, I realize I’m starving. As a resident steps on, I ask, “Donde -groceria?” ‘The grocery store is one block over.’ He shares helpfully. I congratulate myself on an incredibly successful day.