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.