Hacia Chile Po'h!
With Ray having been in Buenos Aires for a couple weeks and having sufficiently soaked up (literally with the humidity) some of the best the city has to offer we were ancy to get a move on. After reading Isabel Allende’s Ines Del Alma Mia (her latest that I got signed when I was in LA!) and pounding my brain with colorful images of the strife involved in settling Santiago, I was curious to check it out. We left behind café’s and the steaks and mosquito’s sucking our blood (steak flavored) and in my case a little peppery)) and we hopped a Lan Chile flight from Buenos Aires and ¾ of the way in we were treated to the peaks of the snow-capped Andes protruding though puffy-white marshmallow clouds and upon descending the clouds broke and we were treated to glimpses of majestic white, birds-eye.
We stayed in Barrio Brasil, a bohemian enclave filled with café’s and coffee shops and bars which we frequented with curious verve. We sipped coffee and ate an apple-raisin filo-dough crusted pastry and the owner showed us a touch of Chilean warmth, something I had been told prior would be in scarce commodity. She invited us to the celebration of the opening of her second café with live jazz, however that would be a few days later and we’d already be an hour and a half Northwest in Valparaiso. Presently, we’re invited upon our return to have some of her homemade seafood, after I casually mentioned that we had great shellfish and Sea Bass and a traditional seafood chowder and I loved it all. We caught a glimpse of the Casa de la Moneda, (the White House, Chilean style) home to Chile’s first female president Michelle Bachelet, a self-proclaimed agnostic running a Catholic majority. The Casa was impressive at night (less so by daylight). We made it to the Plaza de Armas (spectacular in both lights) which contrasted modern architecture with some of the oldest functional buildings in South America. Back at the hostel we hung out with a bunch of Chileans from La Serena, about five hours north. We sat Indian style on the floor and drank rum and then beer and then unidentified concoctions and after warmth and smiles and laughter I was sipping tap at six a.m. and lights-out sun-on.
Our next day in Santiago we checked out the Museo Chileno de Arte Precolombiano. Reading placards next to artifacts was depressing, slightly (maybe 3/10 if 10 is ‘dude that’s über depressing’ and 1 is ‘whatev’). Basically they said so and so Indians were in this region and were really awesome and then they were slaughtered and that wasn’t so awesome. Like Sgt. Slaughter without the Sgt. part. Like a banana and berry smoothie without banana’s or berries but Indigenous peeps in a blender. Sorry.
Later I was on the net and engaging in one of my favorite hobbies, I was checking various weather statistics online (weather.com likes me) and I saw something I had never seen before. The weather was 41 degrees (this wasn’t the significant part, wait for it, wait for it-) it wasn’t “cloudy” or “clear” or “windy” but “smoke.” 41 and smoke. This wasn’t some unfortunate fire wreaking havoc somewhere, but a little stain on Chilean pride that Chileans seem hesitant to discuss. Santiago’s reputation as a very polluted city is common knowledge South America way. I had read that they had switched to clean running buses to combat the pollution but later I would learn that the buses had little effect on the air quality. Chile, a country with a booming economy and a relatively well-to-do westernized county, still has poverty and at night on the outskirts of the city and throughout the country the poor burn trash or whatever they can at night to stay warm. This was something I had seen in Morocco and India but it’s understood there and sort of a thorny subject in Chile.
More walking and food and watery-light but still decent Chilean beer and some tasty Chilean wine and another day passed and we were on a bus to Valparaiso. We took the impressive metro to the station and with twenty to go before the bus left we had really flavorless, odorless coffee (?! lots of cursing, fill in your favorite) and I had my first Chilean empanada, a “pino” or meat, onions, and egg all wrapped in yummy dough. We got some brioche for the ride and it was surprisingly good. Passing through the countryside the landscape was California-ish and later (briefly) foresty and Oregonian.
Arriving in Valpo was exciting. I was at first underwhelmed (thanks to all the praise heaped on this little gem) but once I got to run around we made nice. It’s a port town and it has erratic winding cobblestone streets that zig-zag into the hills overlooking the bay. The buildings are in various states of disrepair and rusted, or painted with bright-bold colors. I loved everything about it. We hiked up a small hill and checked out Pablo Neruda’s house (1 of 3 he had in Chile) and rode an “ascensor” or elevator car, an impressive functional system of elevator cars built into the hills in the late 19th and early 20th centuries that still function and aid in getting about in the steep hillside. Couple days in Valpo and another in Santiago and Chile left us wanting more (greedy gringo appetite) and I hope to make it back and into the smaller cities and different regions. I was especially taken with the inflection in the Spanish and the slang and warmth and overall aura.
We stayed in Barrio Brasil, a bohemian enclave filled with café’s and coffee shops and bars which we frequented with curious verve. We sipped coffee and ate an apple-raisin filo-dough crusted pastry and the owner showed us a touch of Chilean warmth, something I had been told prior would be in scarce commodity. She invited us to the celebration of the opening of her second café with live jazz, however that would be a few days later and we’d already be an hour and a half Northwest in Valparaiso. Presently, we’re invited upon our return to have some of her homemade seafood, after I casually mentioned that we had great shellfish and Sea Bass and a traditional seafood chowder and I loved it all. We caught a glimpse of the Casa de la Moneda, (the White House, Chilean style) home to Chile’s first female president Michelle Bachelet, a self-proclaimed agnostic running a Catholic majority. The Casa was impressive at night (less so by daylight). We made it to the Plaza de Armas (spectacular in both lights) which contrasted modern architecture with some of the oldest functional buildings in South America. Back at the hostel we hung out with a bunch of Chileans from La Serena, about five hours north. We sat Indian style on the floor and drank rum and then beer and then unidentified concoctions and after warmth and smiles and laughter I was sipping tap at six a.m. and lights-out sun-on.
Our next day in Santiago we checked out the Museo Chileno de Arte Precolombiano. Reading placards next to artifacts was depressing, slightly (maybe 3/10 if 10 is ‘dude that’s über depressing’ and 1 is ‘whatev’). Basically they said so and so Indians were in this region and were really awesome and then they were slaughtered and that wasn’t so awesome. Like Sgt. Slaughter without the Sgt. part. Like a banana and berry smoothie without banana’s or berries but Indigenous peeps in a blender. Sorry.
Later I was on the net and engaging in one of my favorite hobbies, I was checking various weather statistics online (weather.com likes me) and I saw something I had never seen before. The weather was 41 degrees (this wasn’t the significant part, wait for it, wait for it-) it wasn’t “cloudy” or “clear” or “windy” but “smoke.” 41 and smoke. This wasn’t some unfortunate fire wreaking havoc somewhere, but a little stain on Chilean pride that Chileans seem hesitant to discuss. Santiago’s reputation as a very polluted city is common knowledge South America way. I had read that they had switched to clean running buses to combat the pollution but later I would learn that the buses had little effect on the air quality. Chile, a country with a booming economy and a relatively well-to-do westernized county, still has poverty and at night on the outskirts of the city and throughout the country the poor burn trash or whatever they can at night to stay warm. This was something I had seen in Morocco and India but it’s understood there and sort of a thorny subject in Chile.
More walking and food and watery-light but still decent Chilean beer and some tasty Chilean wine and another day passed and we were on a bus to Valparaiso. We took the impressive metro to the station and with twenty to go before the bus left we had really flavorless, odorless coffee (?! lots of cursing, fill in your favorite) and I had my first Chilean empanada, a “pino” or meat, onions, and egg all wrapped in yummy dough. We got some brioche for the ride and it was surprisingly good. Passing through the countryside the landscape was California-ish and later (briefly) foresty and Oregonian.
Arriving in Valpo was exciting. I was at first underwhelmed (thanks to all the praise heaped on this little gem) but once I got to run around we made nice. It’s a port town and it has erratic winding cobblestone streets that zig-zag into the hills overlooking the bay. The buildings are in various states of disrepair and rusted, or painted with bright-bold colors. I loved everything about it. We hiked up a small hill and checked out Pablo Neruda’s house (1 of 3 he had in Chile) and rode an “ascensor” or elevator car, an impressive functional system of elevator cars built into the hills in the late 19th and early 20th centuries that still function and aid in getting about in the steep hillside. Couple days in Valpo and another in Santiago and Chile left us wanting more (greedy gringo appetite) and I hope to make it back and into the smaller cities and different regions. I was especially taken with the inflection in the Spanish and the slang and warmth and overall aura.
posted by Matt In The Hat | 9:02 PM
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