February 2nd, 2008 - Valparaiso

What Was UNESCO Thinking?

The historic port town of Valparaiso is merely an hour and a half bus ride from Santiago, so is a perfect “day trip”. That is if you leave like an intelligent tourist during the weekdays. Instead, I dove straight into the human tsunami of the Central Bus Station on a day that was so compressed that shots of the malay made the evening news. Thankfully, I still have daily angels to guide me. Today it was a random college kid from Santiago, who was heading to the beach for the weekend. The tricky part, where his help was needed, was finding which particular grouping of ten bus stalls the bus to Valparaiso would randomly arrive.



The buses had their reported departure times written in soap on the windshield, else no one would know which of the myriad of delayed departures for the same destination to board.



As if we weren’t delayed enough, there was a checkpoint down the road where the police went over the mechanics of the bus with a fine-tooth comb. This was all for the benefit of a politician who was having B-Roll shot of the whole thing. I guess we all know which elected official is making “bus safety” part of the campaign.



Eventually, two hours after estimated arrival we pulled into the port town of Valparaiso.



Historically, before the opening of the Panama Canal (circa 1914), Valparaiso was a major shipping respite for crews making the Atlantic to Pacific cruise. As a key port, wealth was not a challenge, and in its “hay day” the city boomed to even include such novel innovations as public elevators on the steepest streets.




This all rapidly dwindled away after two major events: the commission of the Panama Canal and the 1906 earthquake. Does the date sound familiar? It only makes sense that if the earth’s plates shift up north there must be a correlating tension and tug somewhere else. So now the once vibrant city has diminished to $1.50 tourist boat rides around the harbor.



Or, if you are really adventurous, a row boat excursion.



Next to the harbor, in the Muele Prat pier area, an indigenous family dances to the sound of wooden flutes and drums. I don’t know enough about the tribes to know whether these particular performers are truly from Chile or have shifted down from Peru.



Close by is the Plaza Sotomayor and Monumento a los Heroes de Iquique, home to the mausoleum for famous Chilean seamen from the Battle of the Pacific.



To the right, heading down Serrano Street, it looks like the buildings are still in recovery/renovation mode, truly a citywide theme.



The famous ascensor or street elevators weren’t functioning, so I headed up the hundreds of steps along side the dormant Ascensor Cordillera.



At the top of the hill is the Museo del Mar Lord Cochran, home to the first observatory in Valparaiso. Across the valley is the Palacio Baburizza home to the Museo de Bellas Artes, with the Ascensor El Peral, which runs up to the front patio.



Turning the other direction, one gets a deep drawl of urban colorful urban blight. This may be what the UNESCO committee was interested in preserving but feels a little like making Sueto, in South Africa, a World Heritage Site.



Turning up the block, revealed a colorful neighborhood, but there was no way of really deciphering safety level.



No worries, my home boys got my back… kids are awesome in any country. The beautiful thing is that some adults, sitting on a stoup literally reached out as well. Apparently the street that I was just about to walk up was not a good place to be. The adults made the sign, using their thumbs, of a knife slitting their throats and pointed to the left. “No va alla?” No further translation was needed. I thanked them and beat tracks down the hill.



Unfortunately, the plaza around the Iglesia Matriz was not much better. I have no idea why the Lonely Planet guide would send anyone to see this closed and dilapidated church. It just isn’t worth risking life and limb.



Hungry, I ignorantly went into the restaurant with a hamburger painted on the door and signage outside, only to find out that they only served alcohol. The proprietor pointed me across the street. Following direction, into the subterranean hovel, I figured “it can’t get any worse.”




What I found was a collection of old men sitting, smoking, drinking, and eating soup. Asking for a menu, the cook pointed to two large steel pots boiling on a stove. Having no idea what it was, I said, “Si” to the second option. What arrived was a country-style hearty soup of boiled pork rinds, noodles, and beans. Did I mention that Chile is hot? Add hot soup to hot weather and you get a delicious lunch while dripping in sweat. The locals were appreciative of the effort and glanced many smiles. My table buddy was a man who had lived in NY city for ten years as an illegal alien. His son still lives there. He tried to remember English and I tried to remember Spanish. It worked.



Re-energized with calories, I was determined to find some beauty in this dingy, dangerous, colorful city. Remembering that this once was a center of trade for the West coast of South America, in the turn of the 20th century, my vision was for anything distinctly antique remaining.  This doorknocker was a good start.



The dilapidated solid woodwork of bygone craftsmen was at least interesting in flaked resemblance to previous elegance.



Valparaiso’s saving distinction is the impromptu and sometimes random street art decorating the colorfully drab streets.



This portraiture was my single favorite street installation.



There “is” potential here but everything seems to be covered in corrugated steel. This industrial steel façade appears out of date and step with the foundational architecture and details. (This caught my eye, because at first glance it looked as if half a child were hanging from the window.)



Valparaiso is not entirely without charm and in rare buildings where the corrugated steel has been stripped and the plaster returned to condition the visual appeal is plain.



However, the beauty of the city is to view it from a safe enough distance to enjoy the colorful swatches, without the added stench influence of curbside sewage.



Stray animals, some more friendly than others, roam the streets as if the city were one giant abandoned building for the taking. No zoom needed for this friendly little guy, who practically sniffed the camera’s lens.



In a city swarming with strays, this canine won the award for the best looking. Despite the heat, longhaired large dogs appear to be the norm.



The Lonely Planet gave Valparaiso a “ cautiously warm” review and left final determination to the traveler. L.P. was not a fan of the twist masses of overhead wires and debris-scattered backdrop, which did grow visually tiring, but the Bohemians of the staff some how find this charming.



So here’s my estimation of why almost every standing historical structure is covered with corrugated steel. Post the 1906 earthquake, as buildings began to age and the money fled the port, the remaining inhabitants "re-sided" the Victorian Era houses with corrugated steel, for ease of maintenance and protection against free radical building chunks in future earthquakes.



To the remaining resident’s credit most buildings are painted in bright colors that overshadow the visual dent of dilapidated skeletons.



Today, the street art saves the day…



… and, there is life and energy in the effort.



But towards the literal end of the day, one can definitively tire of post peak urban squalor and dodging running and stagnant sewage.



The trip back to Santiago was quick enough, due to a helpful nap along the way, and as my eyes cleared the passing scene could have just as easily been somewhere in California, with cramped subdivisions climbing up the slopes of the toasted brown hills.



Ok, time for the PG-13 observations of the day, so skip ahead if that doesn’t appeal. Santiago, Chile is an interesting social experience. The street currency of value (for double x chromosome homo sapiens) appears to be cleavage. Quantity or volume does not appear to matter as much as exposure effort. It has been an amazing social observation to watch the differential treatment. For instance, on the bus, the only person whom the driver’s assistant actively jumped up to help with her bag was a “thanks for sharing case.” No vast generalizations can be made about those on the effervescently effusive front. Just because there is "merchandise in the window" doesn’t mean that everyone can shop there or that anything is actually for sale.

Chile, as with practically every other country, is filled with many wonderfully friendly, genuine people. Barbara is a perfect example. After meeting on the bus, we rode the subway back to the center of town and she patiently agreed to speak/practice Spanish with me for over an hour while she shopped. Hardly speaking a word of English, Barbara wasn’t hesitant to “speak around” the meanings of sentences until clarity was reached. Starting with questioning whether, “I had a wife or not?”, then me affirming that it was “good that she had a boyfriend” all guards were down and we had a lighthearted shopping trip / language lesson. She gave me her phone number and e-mail, but the reality is that I may be only spending an abbreviated layover again in Santiago so a poorly executed “written Spanish” thank you note for the Spanish lesson may have to do the trick.



It is always a relief when the second half of the day is better than the first and the weather in Santiago was doing its part to clear out some of the smog to reveal a little of the sunset on the surrounding Andes foothills.

February 1st, 2008 - Santiago

Reputation Reprisal

With a full night's sleep, in an actually very comfortable bunk-bed, the city had every opportunity to adjust initial impressions, without the bias of sleep depravation.  It was still HOT outside, even in the morning hours.  Armed with three liters of water in the daypack I was ready to follow the "locals" lead by walking in the shady patches.

Taking the subway four stops West to the Pedro de Valdivia stop, I had left the rough edges of the Down Town District and emerged in the Providencia District, complete with the first smatterings of an urban single family dwelling neighborhood.  Each property's defense system meant business, with a minimum of barbed wire or steel spikes, and may accompanied by electric fence toppings.

Someone either had a sense of humor or the "real menace" was sleeping in the shade of a tree away from the gate, because the only voice to be heard over the gate was the laughable, juxtaposed to the warning sign, yip of a lapdog.

The goal for the day, in preparation for climbing Mt. Aconcagua, was to climb as many of the hills in the area as possible over the course of the day.  The Parque Metropolitano is home to three.  (The Rio Mapocho, along with the Parque Metropolitano divide the city.)

After two hours of climbing two of the three hills, about 880 Meters each, the furthest West vantage point of the city provided smoggy views of the Andes Mountain Range.  On  a clear day this city could be absolutely stunning!  Looking to the right side of the divided city you will find the wealthy part of town, complete with the Club de Golf Los Leones (the green spot, lower right).  The broad urban expanse, held in cheque by surrounding mountains, really reminded me of Los Angeles.

On the other side of the hill there are tightly packed tenement buildings and the almost perpetual wail of sirens.  The visual differentiation is stark.  Social classes are not exactly friendly here.  The local Down Town residents asked me, "Why would you want to go to Las Condes where all the rich people are?"  The contempt is hardly veiled.

At the Eastern most edge of the Pargue Metropolitano is the Cerro San Cristobal, with a bleach white statue of the Virgin Marie topping the crest.  Two liters into my water stash, the heat of the day (95 F) didn't seem as harsh as yesterday.  The catch is that the sun is piercing and even through multiple applications of sunscreen I can feel a scorching "red neck" building.

Somehow, I prefer this rendition, of a simply robed Mary, to yesterday's ornate Catedral Nacional version.

Descending the slope, in the direction of the zoo, drops one right out into the self-described Bohemian District of town, known as Bellavista.  The colorful streets are packed with restaurants catering to the many local and tourist visitors.

At two thirty in the afternoon, this quarter chicken, rice, and drink for the equivalent of $3 USD or 1,500 Pesos was a welcome hunger fix (eaten at a "standing counter" on the street).

After almost six hours of walking and hiking, these benches were super appealing, but after a quick check they were so filthy from the overflowing transient population that I dug a little deeper to trudge my way back to the Hostel (the same remaining distance as was ridden in the morning sub-way).

The Ecohostel is proving to be a great oasis.  The shaded patios provided for a welcome rest spot to catch up with other travelers.  The remaining, fourth and smallest, hill of the day was Cerro Santa Lucia.  This comparatively diminutive park houses many interesting architectural structures, providing a much closer viewing platform of the city and the surrounding Andes (when the smog has lifted). 

Sorry, yep, more food.  These appear to be cactus pears.  I'm looking forward to seeing more interesting culinary varieties once the mountains and countryside become a realized destination.

Maybe I was in need of sleep or possibly an outdoor fix, because despite the typical city filth and smog Santiago is beginning to grow on me.  I would love to see this city in all her glory, on a clear day with the snow-capped Andes ringing on three sides.

January 31st, 2008 - To Santiago

Sleep Deprivation, Southern Hemisphere Style

Did you know that at 84 degrees 23 minutes West, Atlanta is further West than Detroit's 83 degrees 5 minutes West position?  I didn't either, until Ward Elwood pointed that geographic tidbit out.  The other surprise is that Santiago is two time zones East of Atlanta, which is in the furtherest East time zone in the United States.  What a misperception that South America is directly under North America.  All this adds up to the remaining fact that a 9:20 pm redeye flight arriving at 8:50 am the next morning in Santiago is still brutal on the circadian rhythms.

The good news is that the flock of "taxi touts" pretty much left me alone with a few "No, gracias" replies to their sales pitches.  One man was particularly persistant though, asking questions concerning every leg of the planned commute from bus, to metro, to finally walking five blocks.  With that he admitted defeat and graciously put out his hand for a hearty shake and wished me happy travels.

The EcoHostel de Chile is not in the greatest neighborhood but promised a calm, clean, and quiet environment.

After checking-in and ditching bags it was time for lunch and this corner cafe looked promising.

After ordering a beef steak sandwich with avocado, lettuce, tomato, and mayo (otherwise known as "Italiano"), the waitor brought a knife and fork.  When this mounded delicious concoction arrived the reason was apparent.  There was no way that two slices of bread would be structurally sound enough to hold this monster together.  In the end, this was six bucks worth of delicious.

Santiago is a mish-mash of architectural styles from many varying periods.  The key factor is which earth quakes were survived by which buildings.  The structures surrounding the Plaza Central are a perfect testament.  New sky scrapers are tucked right between the Museo Historico National (right) and the Catedral Santiago (left) built in 1748.

This ended up being a perfect day for the National History Museum, as entrance was free of charge and worth the price of admission.  Santiago was searingly hot in the early afternoon so the darkened halls made for good shelter none-the-less.

The National Cathedral definitely reflects the Spanish influence and ...

... inside reveals a striking resemblance to the style employed in the cathedral in Zaragoza, Spain.  The decoration was almost more "stately" than ornate religous relic in tone.

Traveling the world, it has truly become a source of facination to collect photos of the different personages of both Mary, Jesus, and others.  I still hold the greatest appreciation for the Eastern European "still movement dancing style".  Granted, I'm tired, hot, and cranky but it is a serious improbability that Mary and the infant Jesus ever wore anything slightly resembling this "get-up".

Fading remarkably fast, I was back at the hostel by 4:00pm for a two hour siesta in the hammock, currently being modeled by a traveling German woman.

Oh, as a side-bar, just in case anyone was wondering if South America (Chile specifically) has a different perspective on our president than Australia, Asia, Africa, and Europe.  These two photos should settle the question.  We, as Americans, are in serious need of international "reputation repair" and I hope that whomever is the next president will make this a priority.

Ok, you asked for a little unvarnished truth, so here's the PG-13 version of a very interesting next couple of hours.  Waking from my nap in the hammock and stumbling into the male only dorm room, imagine my surprise to walk in on a bearded Italian servicing a young woman.  So I did the only logical thing and acted like nothing was out of the ordinary, promised I'd only be a moment, and left with the salutation, "Well then, carry on."  

A trip to the grocery store promised to be a little less invasive, until a prostitute grabbed my bicep as I walked past with a bag full of groceries.  Needless to say, I didn't extend the effort to try to translate beyond what was bouyantly clear and simply replied, "No, gracias" and beat tracks back to the hostel to cook dinner.

There is always a bright side and today it was the colored sunset on the return from the grocery.  Hopefully, with a good night's sleep, tomorrow will bring at least a little more open perspective from me.