Long Read

spray cans and stray dogs: santiago smells like burnt tires and possibility

@Emma Hayes2/11/2026blog
spray cans and stray dogs: santiago smells like burnt tires and possibility

woke up under a bridge that smelled suspiciously like empanadas and regret. the air’s got that crisp bite, like someone left the fridge open all night-phone says 15 degrees but my bones swear it’s colder. welcome to chile’s concrete jungle, where the stray dogs have better dental hygiene than i do.


barrio yungay’s where the walls talk louder than the abuelitas. spent Tuesday morning watching some kid tag a transformer box while eating sopaipillas. overhead convo at the feria libre:

"that taco stand near Mercado Central? swear they lace their pebre with crack,"

slurred some dude with more ink than skin. someone told me Lastarria’s art crawl turns into an open-air whiskey den after midnight but i haven’t stayed sober long enough to verify.

neon graffiti under santiago bridge


if the city’s rhythm gets too predictable, *Valpo’s technicolor vomit and Viña’s fermented beach vibes are just a two-hour bus ride away. heard rumors the best terremotos aren’t at La Piojera-some sketchy garage in Ñuñoa apparently serves them with actual seismic activity. confirmation needed.

weather’s doing that thing where it can’t decide if it wants to drizzle or judge your life choices. just checked and it’s hovering around sweater weather with a side of misty breath-hope you packed layers. found this crusty underground venue behind a tire shop that only plays cumbia rebajada on Tuesdays. peak santiago.

"they’ll fine you for tagging but turn blind eyes to the nazi murals near Parque Bustamante," muttered a woman feeding pigeons empanada crumbs

. classic bureaucratic poetry.

stray dog sleeping on graffiti-covered steps


pro tip:
collect bus tickets* for Barrio Brasil’s dive bars-turns out scribbling existential dread on them counts as local currency. also, check this thread for warehouses that morph into illegal jazz dens when Carabineros aren’t looking. just don’t drink the pisco before climbing San Cristóbal unless you want to hug concrete.


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About the author: Emma Hayes

Exploring the intersection of technology and humanity.

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