Pancho is a Chilean journalist and podcaster. He specialises in cultural analysis and deep dives into social trends and is the editor and host of pop-culture podcast, 

. Originally from the south of Chile, Pancho has lived in Santiago for over a decade, where he has interviewed up-and-coming Chilean talent across of myriad of professions, alongside international heavyweights. He is a self-confessed Mariah Carey obsessive. 

Francisco Solís Monroy

The metro—even though people from Santiago hate to admit it—is really good. It works super fast. It rarely ever breaks down—almost never. It's very clean. If you have a metro card, you basically don’t need anything else to get around, because it also works for the buses. The metro-bus system does sometimes get overcrowded and packed with people, but never really gets worse than that.

Pretty much all the apps work here—and they work really well and people use them a lot. They’re kind of a standard way to get around too—Uber, Didi, Cabify. There are also lots of taxis. Unless you're in areas that are borderline rural, the entire city is connected through the public transportation network.

Chile

Santiago 

What's the Deal on Transport in Santiago?

It's a complicated time, in Latin America in general, and the world, because of the rise of conservative discourses. Despite the alarming rate of discrimination and hate crimes, day-to-day life in Santiago is fairly safe, especially compared to other Latin American countries. There are several organisations that are visibly active in defending and protecting coexistence with LGBTQ+ individuals.


There's a huge network of clubs, restaurants, cafés, and pizzerias that respond to and welcome this community like family. At least in the central and urban parts of Santiago, there is that sense of safety. Obviously, there are nuances and not everyone’s experience is the same.


For apps like Grind'r, without wanting to sound too conservative...it's being used for a lot of narcotrafficking. So, as an LGBTQ+ person, it’s not necessarily a safe space anymore, because a lot of the people you’re interacting with there aren't LGBTQ+ people looking for connection—they're just trying to sell drugs. I’d say that apps are not the safest option.

Instagram feels safer to me, at least based on how Santiago works. Everyone has Instagram, everyone will ask for your Instagram, and everyone talks through Instagram—way more than on Grindr or Tinder, for example.

Being Queer in Santiago

In short, there was a coup d’état carried out by the Chilean military forces. From the bombing of the presidential palace, La Moneda, in 1973, we had a dictatorship that lasted around 20 years. During that period, there were restrictions on freedom, cultural expression, media control, interference in elections, as well as assassination, torture, disappearance, and persecution.

Much of what happened during that time, due to Chile’s history, was never really resolved. We transitioned into democracy, which is what we live in today, but during that transition, the processes of justice, truth, and reparation were very limited—and to this day, they remain limited. Because of that, due to the lack of resolution, due to the lack of justice and reparation, the story of the dictatorship is still alive.

"Due to the lack of justice and reparation, the story of the dictatorship is still alive"

Even though the democratic transition established a political system that continues to govern today, the symbolic, social, and cultural transition—the historical transition—never happened. So, while the dictatorship ended, its unresolved effects are still expressed today through the arts, public discourse, social movements, etc.


One of the greatest wounds left by the dictatorship, in my view, is the damage not only to the cultural institutions—because let’s remember that here, artists were expelled from the country, they were persecuted until they left. That kept happening. That created a huge fear among artists of revisiting these topics.

On the one hand, that happened. But on the other hand, people’s perception of culture was also deeply affected. For a long time, out of fear, much of the Chilean middle class associated culture with something dangerous. This led to a situation where, to this day, investment in culture is deficient. The cultural infrastructure is deficient. The resources available for the development of new talent are extremely limited.

And in that sense, I return again to this idea of this absurd duality. Because on one hand, there’s this lack of infrastructure and resources as a result of the dictatorship. But on the other hand, because of that, we have young political groups and artists seeking their own ways to create spaces of resistance. They find their own ways to self-finance, to build their own scenes, bypassing the state and the city’s infrastructure. 


These two truths coexist: an unresolved history, and at the same time, a people—a society—that needs to express what it feels.

Santiago's Cultural History

Obviously, you have to be careful, like in any country in the world. But at least in Santiago’s party scene, the use of drugs—alcohol and other substances—is very widespread and largely accepted. No one’s really going to judge you. It depends on the place, of course, but people use marijuana and cocaine at standard parties, and at the more electronic ones, people will take ecstasy.

There's also something called “tusi,” which isn’t necessarily well-known everywhere, but in Chile, “tusi”—a kind of pink cocaine has had a sort of boom. So it’s not unusual at all to walk past party venues and see little baggies with pink powder inside. And despite Chile being a pretty conservative country, the party culture has this sort of open-mindedness. And again—you have to be careful when buying, be mindful of who you're buying from, and always use substances safely.

What’s the Deal on Drugs in Santiago?

can resemble anything between a dive bar with a jukebox or a restaurant with formal service and pressed napkins. In 

, these institutions are woven into the city's DNA, accessible to all and enjoyed across the complex social divisions that define Chilean society. 

In this guide, podcast host and cultural expert Pancho Solís takes us through a variety of the city's classics, and explains the culinary highs of the a city staple: the completo.

 on it—but with toppings you might not normally associate with a hot dog. Avocado, tomato, and mayonnaise, and then there’s usually something else—mustard," he explains. "There are different schools of thought, but basically, it’s a hot dog with avocado, tomato, mayo and then more toppings get added until it becomes this absurdly huge thing."

"It can be breakfast, lunch, dinner, a late-night snack, a pre-party meal, a first date food, or comfort food after a bad day. In that sense, the 

 is what the average Chilean will order at any time of the day, any time of year."

It has neon lights and a bohemian vibe. The completos and beer are ok, but the atmosphere makes it worth it. It always has nu-wave music.

It’s here in Lastarria — very traditional. One time I had a completo and a beer there with a lady who was nearly 100 years old! She’d been going there her whole life. It serves you in an old school way, with waiters. 

A traditional place known for its lomito sandwich: a very prestigious option on the diner route. 

This a known as the first vegan fuente de soda. Very famous for its completos.

A historic, emblematic option in the suburbs which sells a very tasty churrasco— another local speciality sandwich. 

A very old one, you’ll just find elderly ladies and gentlemen. This is one for tradition.

This isn’t really a diner, it is more of a snack place that sells  churrasco, pizza, empanadas, completos—everything you need for a late night post-party craving. There’s no tables, people just sit outside to eat. 

This is spot was called Pikachu, which was a single food cart. Now, there are a bunch of carts where you can buy completos with non-traditional options, like garlic and bbq sauces.

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Absurdly Huge, Undeniably Good: Santiago's Diners and Dive Bars with Pancho Solís

The police don’t have the best reputation in Chile, especially because before the pandemic, we went through a couple of years of major political unrest—what was known as the 

 (social uprising). There was a wave of protests all over Chile—against basically all institutions, all at once—for over a year, very intense and ongoing. And the police, 

 were disgraceful at the time. The institution was associated with numerous human rights violations—kidnappings, torture, rape, abuse, violence. They killed protesters, they shot out people’s eyes during demonstrations.

So the relationship with the police is politically and symbolically very tense.

However, in some parts of the city center, police presence is common—you’ll see a lot of officers around, and they’re always willing to help if, say, you need directions. They’re known for being friendly—I know that sounds ridiculous after everything I just told you—but in terms of everyday civic duties, they’ll help you find a street or the nearest whatever. So in that sense, if I were a tourist, it’s fine to approach a police officer to ask for directions—they’ll respond kindly.

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