Valparaiso, Chile

And thus following on in quick succession from Vina del Mar a brief summary of my time in Valparaiso.

Valparaiso is very much Chiles second city surpassed in almost all respects by its close and far larger neighbour Santiago. Recent attempts to enliven the city have included locating the new Chilean parliament building there and naming the city a capital of culture (think Liverpool, apologies in advance). However these, at best notional, acts have done little to change the fortunes of a resolutely working class city which remains off limits for the more discerning Santiagan (again, not sure).

However, undeterred we decided to spend a night and day seeing what Valparaiso had to offer and after securing accommodation and a rather pricey dinner - the guidebook says the seafood in Valparaiso is to die for (to use such unfortunate parlance) but on the basis of my experience I really couldn’t comment - we ventured for a drink in the local bar - helpfully if a little miserably owned by an English man:

...Its Ok here but I am stuck because the wife won’t let me take the kids back the UK...

Despite Senor Englishman’s misgivings over his adoptive home he supplied us with a sheet entitled - What to do with three days in Valparaiso - ambitious to say the least given the content (Day 2 was weak and Day 3 practically blank - go to a cafe, drink a coffee) and the fact we competed the first day in circa an hour. The author of the itinerary is also worthy of a mention for a rather apparent predilection for the Village People and the world of high camp and homosexual stereotypes they embraced. To give a flavour of what it is that I mean two highlights of day 1 were eating lunch in the fire station canteen where no less than two troops were based (heaven forefend, be still my beating heart) and visiting the nearby naval outfitters for a little twirl in a sailors togs...I shall refrain from mentioning the bar known as being - an off duty sailors hang out...

Unfortunately we were too late for lunch and the outfitters were closed - by which I mean the building in which they were housed was now but rubble. However the port is still there (it’s a UNESCO world heritage site don’t you know? What the criterion for such an award is I am unsure as it seems remarkably easy in this part of the world to secure such status) and we completed the obligatory tourist tick in a box of a boat tour around the harbour without incident or if I am honest a great deal of interest...

Further our walking tour for a while became a riding the funiculars tour. These quite severely angled railroads provide access to the city’s cerros and the differing communities to whom they provide refuge. The angles of the houses which cling limp like to a land surely never really intended for mass settlement produce a confusion of angles usually only witnessed when really quite inebriated. This element of the itinerary was also curtailed somewhat as the advice given by the trusted (if increasingly wholly inaccurate) sheet was - not to linger to long, for this is the poor party of town - sound advice indeed but also saying where the poor part of town was would have helped. However, such knowledge was provided by a local police officer which rather kindly if a little bluntly pointed out - its not safe for you here...

Perhaps Valparaiso’s most interesting side is in the artistic creativity that a city past its heyday (I am assuming it had one once) has bred in its inhabitants. Surrounded on all sides by hills, or cerros to give their Spanish name, the hill, or cerro (next time I will just put cerro) on which we stayed has become a centre for an alternative community of artists, designers and other bohemian types that us traveller types just love to be associated with. Let us be honest the centre of cities are for tourists, not for the likes of us, we want edge, we desire dirt, need grit and a large dollop of the underbelly. And in this cerro there was plenty to be had. Not a wall remains which hasn’t felt the touch of a spray can nor a cafe that doesn’t offer at least one product that is at least probably fair-trade. The bars remain in that odd state where one is unsure if they are open, closed or safe to be inside - issues over hygiene are to be left well behind. In this vein the remains of the day were spent wandering the streets taking pictures of said graffiti (a complement of theft?), drinking (potentially fair-trade) coffee, visiting the boutiques (the friend more than I, men’s clothes were hard to find - apparently we just aren’t interesting enough for the bohemians).

And onto Santiago...