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.

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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.