Valparaíso: An hour away, a world apart

Although the guidebook that we received from CIEE upon acceptance into our program lists Valparaíso as it's number one place to visit in Chile, I had gotten mixed reviews on the city--some people couldn't say enough good things about it, while others described it as smelly, disorganized, and dangerous. This weekend I finally made it out to the coast to see for myself.

Only a quick hour and a half trip by bus, Valparaíso nonetheless seems worlds apart from Santiago. Where the capital city is consumed with looking forward and outward, to the point of lacking a true identity of its own, its coastal sister seems completely content to with her own truly distinct, and somewhat wacky and nonsensical self.

For example, upon arriving, we quickly became aware that we would not be entering the city by the normal route--roads were blocked off for the city's celebration of the naval holiday. So, instead of dropping us off at the bus station, our bus simply stopped at the most convenient intersection and unloaded us. Now, in Santiago, we would have been able to quickly spot and hail a taxi, and have it take us to wherever we wanted in the city. Not so in Valpo. Apparently, there aren't too many actual taxis in the city; rather, you have to settle for collectivos, a kind of shared taxi, and these only go on set routes and you can only find the correct ones at certain waiting stations in the city. Unfortunately, we were nowhere near the station for the route that we needed to get to our hostel. We were trapped down in el Plan--the flat part of the city by the port--and we needed to get up to Cerro Alegre--one of the hills that spring up from el Plan where most of the city's residents live. Luckily though, since it was a holiday and the city was having a celebration, there were tons of carabineros (police) in the streets. We flagged one down and asked him how to get to Cerro Alegre. In Santiago, a policeman would undoubtedly know how to get you to whatever point in the city you needed to go. In Valpo, our policeman had to send a text to a friend, wait ten minutes for him to respond, and only then could he give us the relatively vague instructions of "Go to Francia and Colon and take La O bus." Thank goodness we could rely on the help of strangers to get the rest of the way, and we arrived--after a nausea inducing, praying-for-your-life ride in a bus packed 20 over capacity--to Allegretto Bed and Breakfast.

I

In Santiago, the proprietor of the bed and breakfast would certainly have been there to welcome us when we arrived. Here, however, we found a sign on the door instructing us to call a number if no one answered. We did, and as it turns out, Ed, our host, was in Santiago, thus, he would be unable to let us in. It would seem this is a common occurence, since he had a plan just for this sort of occasion. Hidden under the plant on the doorstep we would find two keys on a blue key ring, one would open the front door and one would open the door to Number 3, our room. The rest of our stay at Allegretto, and our encounters with Ed were equally laid back and pleasant--our room was cozy and clean, the breakfast plentiful and delicious, and our host accomodating, flexible, and ready with suggestions (even if one did include a visit to his pizza restaurant, which turned out to be the best pizza I've had in Chile).

We spent the rest of the afternoon wandering Cerros Alegre and Concepcion, peeking into shops and art galleries, admiring the crafts of local artisans, and taking in the gorgeous views and street murals. I loved all the colorful houses (Santiago is, at its best, much more shiny glass and steel, and, at its worst, dull grey concrete) and little side streets, and was reminded of cities that I visited in Europe, particularly the Cinque Terre towns in Italy.

Saturday we headed down to the port and, through a little bargaining, scored a private boat ride around the harbor for only a tad more than the impersonal group tour would have been. Our captains were super friendly young guys, and by the end of our thirty minute tour they were trying to convince us to stay in Valparaíso by calling Santiago fome (boring) and enticing us with an invitation to their house for a seafood lunch. We politely declined and headed back up the hillside, this time to Cerro Bellavista and Pablo Neruda's Valpo home, La Sebastiana.

With views like the ones he had from every room in his house, it's not hard to see how he could have been inspired to write such beautiful poetry. You can't escape the city or the sea from inside La Sebastiana, and you feel on top of the world from every point inside the quirky home. Once again, I was enchanted by Neruda, his home, and his life.

We hopped in a cab (I guess there are a few to be found in the city) just in time to escape the drizzle that had started to steadily fall, and we headed back down to the port for a late lunch at one of the famed seafood joints. Our taxista's recommendation Los Porteños, turned out to be the hot spot for weekend lunching, and we had to wait twenty minutes for a table to open up in the bustling restaurant where each diner seemed to have a more delicious looking seafood concoction than the next. It was worth the wait though. My cocido de mariscos (seafood soup) was chock full of every sea creature you could imagine (and many I didn't recognize), all incredibly fresh. Laura and Anna got machas a la parmesana, a Chilean seafood standout, and a couple sampled the deliciously flaky and fried seafood empanadas.

After lunch it was back up to the hostel (via a ride in one of the ascensores, elevators that goes up the side of the hill, that felt strikingly similar to the terremoto) and off to the bus station to head back to Santiago. I, for one, am in love with Valparaíso, and could totally see how someone could move there, and then turn around and ten years would have passed. It has that special something that seems like it would hold you there. It's completely different than my home city here. I'll borrow the words of a self-consciously politically correct professor of mine in college who used to say ten times a class, "I'm not going to say better or worse, it's just different." I think I'll be making many more trips to cooky Valpo in the coming months, and I couldn't be happier that it's just a short bus trip away.

Photos

Here's the updated link to my photos. The latest are from my weekend in Valparaiso. We had a great time, and as evidenced from the monton de pictures I took, it's a very photogenic city. More on our trip there coming soon...

An Apple a Day Keeps the Smog...From Getting Me Too Down

It's official--the smog has arrived. I was starting to think it was a myth, just another exaggeration by Chileans about aspects related to the weather. But no. When I walked out of my morning classes and saw the greyish haze obscuring my beloved San Cristobal  (and the traffic light only 4 blocks up), my plans for an afternoon run went up in, well, smoke.  Feeling defeated by and especially lethargic and sniffly (psychosomatic? maybe.) from the smog, I decided to pop into the farmers' market on my walk home for a little color and freshness.

Hidden behind the tourism information office is this amazing daily market, where vendors sell fresh produce and flowers, fish, and meats, all for much cheaper than you can find in the supermarkets. It makes me happy every time I walk in, and I enjoy chatting with the vendors about what's best for the day. This morning I picked up a couple Fuji apples (manzanas), a package of raspberries (frambuesas) and a tomato. If it weren't for the fact that I only had 2,000 pesos (about $4) in cash on me, I probably would have gone home with a refrigerator full. 

I didn't have my camera on me--only my cell phone--so bear with me on the photos. You can at least get the idea of how the sight of all the yummy fruits and vegetables could brighten up even this smoggiest of days.

Worst Volunteer Ever?

I've been trying to coordinate with the organization that I wrote about that helps stray dogs, 4A, for a few weeks now and finally was able to connect with them on Saturday. My grueling Friday evening of classes, combined with the rain that plagued Santiago all day made for an early night so I was up and raring to go Saturday morning. It's a good thing too because the commute was kind of killer--two line changes on the metro, about 15 stops, and then we had to drive from the metro station to the shelter! Add in the thirty minutes that I waited for the organization's coordinator at the metro station (I've really got to get adjusted to the "chilean time" phenomenon), and I was glad that I was feeling well rested.

4A is an organization run by Universidad de Chile's veterinary school, so their shelter is on that campus, out in a comuna called La Pintana. We pulled up to the little shed-like building and were greeted by a caucaphony of barking and howling, as well as a few little pooches who roam free around the campus. 4A's shelter houses about 10 dogs and its members take on one shift per week to come clean out the kennels, give the dogs food and fresh water, and take them for walks.

The pups were excited to see us to say the least. From the tiniest little terrier mix, Globita, to the overweight but extra affectionate El Oso (the bear), all the dogs were friendly, if a little over hyper. The first part of the shift--poop duty--was  unpleasant, and I'll definitely be needing to invest, or scrounge up, some junkier clothing. But I was excited to take them for a walk around the campus.

But that's when things started to go south. First, the other new volunteer's dog wriggled out of its collar and took off. Luckily, John, the coordinator was on his game and caught him. And then, just as I was thinking, "hmm maybe I should tighten my dog's collar, it's looking a little loose," he sees another dogs and with a little tug and a twist is off the leash and off like a rocket.

We spent about fifteen minutes trying to lure him back, but somehow a pack of other dogs had come out of the woodwork and now they were all running around the field like crazy, having a great time, and there was NO WAY he was going to stop. John tried to make me feel better by telling me that this particular dog was the "escapista profesional" (escape artist) and that he always comes back, but that didn't assuage my guilt at having lost my dog on my first walk. But, the rest of them had to get walked too, so we went back to the kennels and got new dogs, this time ensuring that their collars were snug.

When it was time to go my pup still hadn't returned. I have to hope that he came back later that day, or at the very least the next morning for his daily meal. The mishap didn't seem to ruin my chances of volunteering with the group again. John insisted I email him about my availability and when I would want to come back. Next time I'm going to stash dog treats in my pocket so that my dogs won't ever think of leaving my side.

Chico Trujillo

I had an all around blog-worthy weekend, but first on the list is my Saturday night out: a last minute concert of what turned out to be "Chile's most prominent Cumbia band."

After an afternoon of painting my friend Chelsey's room and a delicious pasta dinner, the two of us were up in the air on how we wanted to spend our Saturday night. We both agreed that we weren't really up for a club night so when a friend texted Chelsey with a live band option we were intrigued.When she asked what kind of band it was, her friend replied "cumbia/ska punk--a ton of fun, jumping around dancing all night." I had no idea what to expect from the description but I was in the mood for something different so we decided to go for it.

And this was nothing if not "something different." For some reason I was under the impression this was going to be some no name band, perhaps headed up by one of the guys friends or something. Turns out, these guys Chico Trujillo are one of the most popular bands in Chile. Luck was on our side because just as we roll up the bouncer calls out that only the next twelve people in line would get tickets. We literally snagged the last of them.

Adding to my confusion was the venue, Las Tejas. Never in my life would I have picked it for a place to host a world-touring group. The place looked like--no scratch that, was--a diner/deli. Literally, we got our drinks--terremotos, a cocktail that deserve its own posting--from a kitchen window. The guardia ropa (coat check) converted into the snack bar, selling fries, empanadas, an all other variety of greasy, alcohol absorbing food perfect for satisfying the munchies of the party-goers. (And those munchies were induced by more than just alcohol, anything went at this hole in the wall, if you know what I mean.) Once you walked a little farther back though, the space opened up into a huge room with a stage at the front. The chilean I was with said Las Tejas was what Chileans call a "picada," and told me that during the day the big club/dance floor area had tables. At any given lunch hour at Las Tejas, he said, "you'll see a university student having lunch a table over from an old drunk man. And before you know it they'll be buddied up, drinking together." Last night though, the space was transformed into a concert hall, and the energy was electric, the room packed with Chilenos waiting anxiously for Chico Trujillo.

There were a couple opening acts, reggae bands, to get everyone pumped up and in the mood, and around 1 am, Chico finally came on. The "jumping up and down" description of Chelsey's friend was certainly accurate; the crowd's enthusiasm was amusing and totally contagious. Every time the beat would pick up the chileans would go wild, throwing their hands in the air in their own version of the fist pump (palm open, and facing towards them). Definitely check out their Myspace page and give them a listen. I'm getting more and more excited for the September 18th Independence Day celebrations when it's cumbia all day and all night for a week straight!

Pedro de Valdivia--First Home and First Governor of Chile

This week I finally ended the long and drawn out process of apartment searching and settled on moving at the end of this month. I'm really excited about it and will definitely post more about my new neighborhood, apartment, and roommates in the coming weeks. But I'm also a little sad to be leaving the neighborhood that has become my home in the past two months.

Avenida Pedro de Valdivia attracted me in my first days in Santiago. In fact, while walking down it on our way to a restaurant for dinner, I literally said to myself, "I am going to live on this street." Although my living situation didn't end up being a good fit, I still think Pedro is a perfect mix of tranquil charm and easy access to shops, restaurants and cafes. If I could have found another apartment somewhere along it I would have stayed.

So, in thinking about my move and not having Pedro de Valdivia be part of my daily routine any more I started wondering about the actual Pedro de Valdivia. Pretty neglectful of me to never have even Wikipedia-ed the namesake of my street in the whole two and a half months I've been here!

Turns out old Pedro was, as you might imagine since he has such a sweet spot named after him, a pretty big deal. He actually founded the city of Santiago and was the first royal governor of Chile when it was still a Spanish colony. According to my quick little research project (thanks Wikipedia) he tried to improve relations with the native population, which had been pretty much brutalized by his predecessor. However, he still was on a mission--expand Spain's hold as much as possible--so no matter how peaceful he might have tried to be in the process, he still no doubt ended up stepping on a lot of indigenous toes. He did manage to expand as far south as Concepcion, and his namesake Valdivia.

There are several different stories surrounding his death, but what is for sure is that he died at the hands of the Araucania tribe. All of them equally horrifying, one involves his arms being severed off, roasted, and eaten in front of him while he was still alive!

Colonialism issues aside, I have to feel proud to have lived on the street named after the founder of Chile. He was pretty badass and the Santiago that he founded back in the 16th century at Santa Lucia hill has become a pretty nice place to live, so I can't complain.

Museums are Overrated

Or that's what I,  a Washingtonian living in Santiago, will tell myself.

Feeling a little ashamed of myself for not having stepped foot in one of the city's museums in the two months I've been here, I visited the Museo del Arte Precolombino (Museum of Precolumbian Art) this Sunday afternoon. My Lonely Planet guidebook said it's the best the city has to offer, and, to top it off, that it's free on Sundays. (Museum-going is a little too ambitious an activity for Santiaguinos on Sundays, so they have to incentivize it somehow).

It was a gorgeous day and it felt great to be outside, walking around the downtown, an area that, during the week I tend to avoid. I hopped off the metro at La Moneda and walked the few blocks to the museum.

Lonely Planet, you need to get your facts straight so that more people don't have not-so-friendly museum employees pointing to the information board saying, "No dice nada de free" (It doesn't say anything about free) when you express confusion at having to pay the entrance fee. That was setback number one. Now, I have no problem paying for museums. I get it. They have expenses, museums don't run themselves, those relics and paintings need taking care of, etc. But, you know how it is when you expect something to be free, and then it's not. Just a little irritating. Needless to say, I got off on the wrong foot in this place.

The building itself was very pretty, with airy courtyards separating the two parts--the permanent and temporary exhibits). There was even a little coffee bar in the courtyard where people were having muffins and cafe cortados, enjoying the afternoon sun.

However, that's pretty much where the museum's appeal ended for me. Aside from a couple impressive artifacts, like these chemamulls--wood statues that accompanied the deceased during their funerals in Mapuche culture--I found the collection dull and poorly organized.

Maybe it's just me, but when I'm in a museum I like to be given some direction. Hey, I'm not an expert on Precolumbian Art, that's what the museum designers are. So, I think it's nice when there's some sort of coherent layout, or plan that you can follow. I don't know, maybe organize the rooms chronologically, or by country, or indigenous tribe. Ok, yes, the artifacts were placed in cases according to some sort of theme--these are all made of jade, these are used for cooking, these were all found in one location--but I think the exhibit was really lacking an overarching structure that could give visitors a sense of the history of the indigenous peoples of South America and their various cultures.

So, Santiago, I don't know if I'll be spending any more Sundays in your museums. Since this one is apparently the best, and I was underwhelmed, I think I'd better stick to one of your many other charms.

El Tur Gastronomico

I've had the good luck of meeting and becoming friends with a Chilean foodie. Through a Chilean friend I know from D.C., I met Mauricio, and after a few delicious and fun dinners, we decided that we should embark on an official gastronomical tour of Santiago. The rules are simple: every two weeks we meet for a meal, each time alternating who chooses the place, and it should be somewhere that at least one of us has not tried.

We had our inaugural dinner a month ago, and it was my pick. I chose Barandiaran, a Peruvian restaurant that I had been to during our orientation week back in February. It was delicious the first time and Mauricio had never been, so I thought it would be a good place to start. Peruvian restaurants are extremely popular in Santiago, which is somewhat strange given the competitive, borderline contemptuous relationship between the two countries. But I guess even Chileans have to admit that Peruvian food is outstanding.

We started with a ceviche to share and Peruvian pisco sours, which are different from the Chilean version. I personally like them better (oh the shame!). Great minds think alike and we both settled on the Corvina a lo Macho, Chilean sea bass with assorted mariscos (think octopus, shrimp, and various other sea creatures). It was delicious, with a light cream sauce and served with rice. Unfortunately, right about the time I was scraping the last bit off my plate, my stomach started to grumble. Within a few minutes I was hit hard with terrible stomach pains, and though I tried to fight it off I eventually had to break it to Mauricio that we needed to ask for the cuenta (check) pronto. Not a very auspicious start to our tour, but at least we knew that odds are, things could only go up from here.

Last night we had the second meeting of our two-man gastronomical club and Mauricio opted for a venue somewhat off the beaten path. We drove a little outside the city, to the tony neighborhood of Vitacura, specifically to a strip of restaurants known as BordeRio (on the side of the river). Mauricio hadn't decided on a specific spot, but thought we'd instead check out the menus and ambiance of a couple places. We settled on Zanzibar a lavishly decorated spot advertising itself as serving comidas del mundo (foods of the world). And it wasn't lying. The menu featured dishes from Italy to Thailand to Congo. Once again we started with a ceviche, but this one was a sampler, with three different varieties, one with sea bass, one with tuna, and one with octopus. They were all light, refreshing and excellently seasoned. Pleasing to both the palate and the eye (in truth, every dish I saw was exquisitely presented) it was a perfect way to start our meal. And...once again...we ordered the same main course: Japanese Kobe beef with vegetables. It arrived to the table searing hot on the griddle that it was cooked on. With a delicious glass of Merlot to accompany our meat, we both dug in. Super saboroso (flavorful) and cooked perfectly al punto (medium rare), it's in the running for my best meal so far in Santiago. We finished off with creme brulee for him and macerated fruits with passion fruit sorbet for me. It was a perfectly portioned and perfectly balanced meal in an entertaining and pleasant atmosphere.

Next stop is my choice, and I better get on the Chilean restaurant review sites because I have a lot to live up to.

Not Your Typical Tourist Trap

I've been a little behind on posting this week. To be honest, it's been a rough week for me here, as I know it has been for everyone from my area in the midst of the surreal tragedy of the death at UVA. Although on the one hand I'm grateful I'm here, somewhat removed from the news, the talk, and the heavy sadness, at the same time I'm wishing I could be home to support the people I care about who have been even more deeply affected than I. But, of course, I can't, and there really is nothing that any of us can do to better the situation except pray for the families of both involved.

But, before all of this, I was fully intending on writing about a couple of things that I did this past weekend. On Saturday I took the somewhat unusual excursion to the Cementerio General (General Cemetery) of Santiago. It was a quick ride on the metro out to the north of the city.

I have never visited a cemetery as a tourist activity; I haven't even been to Arlington cemetery. In fact, it's kind of a strange concept to me, but it's listed, right there in our guidebook, as a sight to see. And, as it turns out, it was just that.

It was different than any cemetery I've ever seen in the U.S. in that there were large cement structures, with graves built into them, stacked up, one on top of each other, almost like blocks. (Sounds strange right?). The person's name is then carved into the side. There were some graves that were more similar to what we have in the U.S., but it seems the Chileans have a different way of paying their respects to the dead. They go way beyond flowers, leaving all sorts of things--from sports jerseys, to soda bottles, to plastic windmills--on the graves of their loved ones. Although to my eye it was a little cluttered, at the same time it was refreshing to see the personal touches. To me it seemed decidedly more genuine than our custom of putting any old flowers on someone's grave.

We saw the graves of some famous Chileans, like Salvador Allende, and also visited the monument built to honor those who died or disappeared during the military dictatorship. Perhaps what I liked most about the cemetary was how quiet and tranquil it was. It was like a mini escape from the city. And you can't say that about many tourist destinations.