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The hotel clerk spoke pretty good English, but I told him I wanted to practice my Spanish, and he never spoke English to me again. He was a friendly kid, named Julio. He explained the bus system, and how I could hook up with the metro, and told me where I could change more money on a Saturday afternoon or Sunday. He also gave me a map and told me how late the museum was open. I had noticed on the ride in when we had passed the museum of bellas artes that it was having an exhibit on Dali, and I thought I could go there after my run or next day, though Julio wasn't sure if that museum was closed on Sundays or Mondays.
So I caught the bus outside my hotel dressed in my running shorts and tee shirt. It was warm out, but I wondered if I should go back for a sweatshirt in case it got cool before I could get back to my hotel. Also, I wondered if I could get away with going to the art museum in my running shorts, since the bus was taking so long that I probably wouldn't be able to return to the hotel and get back out on the bus before the exhibit closed. I got to thinking, maybe I should have brought more clothes. It was like one of those dreams where everyone has clothes except you. Nevertheless I was curious to see a bit of Santiago, and I decided to take the metro all the way to where Julio had told me was the center of the city.
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