CHILE

Crossing the Andes





We followed the same route west as we had a few days previously on the Alta Montana trip, yet the journey was still as breathtaking as the first time. So once again through the vinyards and lush Uspallata Valley onwards and upwards throught the monolithic peaks of the Andes. We caught a glimpse of Aconcagua to our right this time..the day was much clearer.Again the altitude was quite apparent, and at the border crossing, which took over three hours, we were knocked out with the effects. I will be taking medication for our crossing back into Argentina, which we plan to do from San Pedro de Atacama, a route that crosses a path at a height of over 4000m.

The colours of the mountains constantly change..greens and reds to bright sandstone to huge quartz rock faces. Around the border there is still plenty of snow on the nearby peaks, and once we were finally underway again the descent began through much of the same kind of terrain. One cant help but feel miniscule in the midst of such a range. At one point the road twists for a couple of kilometres down a dramatic decline to a valley floor like a leaden snake winding its way towards Santiago.

It became verdant quite quickly, and there were plenty of horses in the fields right up to the outskirts of the city. We passed through slums that reminded me of the wooden shacks that make up much of the outer ring of Ulan Batar, and after about 3 hours from the border found ourselves in the heart of Chile´s capital.

Santiago

I would recommend the hostel we found ourselves in, the comfortable and homely Hostel Forestal, which is beside the park of the same name and a ten minute walk to Pio Nono, the bridge that crosses a sludgey Rio Mapocho and leads to a street lined with numerous watering and feeding holes. We had tapas and a beer in a restaurant inside a modern development called Patio Bellavista. The food in Chile is plainer than Argentina, and seems to consist mainly of empanadas and chorillana (mentioned below). In terms of prices, the current euro rate is 750 chilean pesos to the euro. That tapas meal and drinks cost about 6,000 pesos, and the place is very upmarket. Wandering further up Pio Nono and past the scores of lively bars we had a quick drink before heading back to the hostel, deciding to be sensible for once and get some rest before seeing the city properly the following day.

So up early and refreshed we made for the tree lined bustling Plaza de Armas. Then to the site of the darkest moment in recent Chilean history, the presidential palace at La Moneda where Pinochet and his forces ousted the first democratically elected Marxist president in history, Salvador Allende who allegedly committed suicide during the coup here in 1973.

A few blocks away is the Museo de Arte Precolumbiano which has an amazing collection of indigenous art from all over Latin America. There are great displays on the role of the shaman across a lot of different cultures, who were at one point described as "little hallucinting men who resolved difficulties" After an hour of so wandering around we decided to take the funicular up to Cerro San Cristobal, on top of which stands a 22m statue of the Virgin Mary.

Santiago lies in a bowl between the Andes to the east and the Chilean Coastal Range to the west so the views from up here were pretty spectacular, looking out over ´Sanhatten´ the high rise financial centre and off to the snowy peaks in the distance. I bought myself a knock off Chilean footbal jersey, deciding that since Ireland will be a no show I may aswell support some other no hope long shot in South Africa.

Only 90 minutes from Santiago by bus, we arranged to go to Valparaiso that evening.


Valparaiso

Che Guevara fairly accurately dubbed Valparaiso a "madhouse museum" in his Motorcycle Diaries after spending a few days here in the early 1950´s. It doesnt seem that much has changed over the last half century. The streets are covered in grime, bottles, piles of twisted metal and hundreds of brightly coloured torn posters. Yet there were very few people about on the Sunday evening we pulled into town, gawping out the bus window at the chaos left in the wake of a long day of election campaigning (election to be held on 5th December). The city seemed to be breathing a sigh of relief after a hectic weekend.

A quick taxi ride from the bus station brought us up to Hostel Angel, perched on one of the many steep hills that run to their ends at the docks. Poor Sarah was very vocal about her displeasure at the unfolding situation..Cummings St looked like a bomb had hit it, ..a bomb full of little artists with cans of spray paint and a hatred for straight lines and tarmac.

We settled into the place quickly however, the very welcoming and friendly Marco giving us a quick crash course on the areas of interest, and those of danger. His father is the chief engineer on the city´s famous funiculars so we received expert advise on the ones to take and those not to bother with.

Valparaiso is Chile´s cultural capital, consisting of thousands of chaotic brightly painted adobe structures hanging on the hills over a busy and frenetic port. From the sea it must look like the arc of a rainbow hovering over an apocalyptic junkyard. We hadn´t eaten anything since breakfast, and it was approaching 7pm so I asked Marco to recommend somewhere to eat..he came up trumps.

Nobody does chorillana like JM Cruz´s. This little trinket filled haunt, covered of course in the ubiquitous graffiti of the city is a charming place to be introduced to Chile´s national dish - a huge helping of potatoes, onions, scrambled eggs and strips of beef drowned in gravy. We sat and watched re runs of a hilariously cringe worthy 70´s tv series called Operacion Rosa Rosa, washing down the chorillana with bottles of Pañana, a very tasty Bolivian brew. Then back to the hostel for a few drinks with an Austrian and a couple of Americans,..all of which I managed to insult very tastefully, much to Sarah´s be/amusement.

Next morning we had planned to go and visit Pablo Neruda´s house, but the place was closed. I was raging because we had missed out on visiting another of his houses in Santiago. Neruda is held in the same regard in Chile as Evita is in Argentina..a socialist hero of the people, and a winner of the Nobel prize for literature. So we walked down towards Plaza de Sotomayor, sat and had coffee on the square under the enormously imposing edifice of the Chilean Armada headquarters. Then up a nearby funicular to Cerro Concepcion and Cerro Allegre. This part of the city designated with World Heritage status in 2003 in recognition of the architectural and engineering wonders that are the city´s main form of transport up the hills. The funiculars are the oldest operating in the world, dating from 1883 and are for the most part in great nick. While the views out over the city and ocean are fantastic it is the architecture and rambling cobbled laneways, random stairwells and graffiti that are the real attraction. Valparaiso is a photographer´s playground, no matter where you look the potential for a postcard shot is there.

After a few hours of wandering around we found a restaurant whose balcony clung to a hillside, and sat drinking beer looking out over the harbour and at the sweeping vista of the city below.

That evening we took the short train journey to Viña del Mar, expecting the laid back beach resort we had read about. Unfortunately the place is just as gritty as its near neighbour, is chronically over built and resembles much of the ´holiday´ mayhem to be found on the southerm Spanish coast. We walked along the beachfront, where building sites were running drains straight into the sea amid seemingly nonchalant swimmers who fought with the rip to stay close to the shore. I got too much sun, and fearing sun stroke made for the trainstation, drank a few litres of water and fell gratefully into bed when we finally got back to the hostel. I surfaced a few hours later, and we spent a few hours chatting to a South African couple who too were on their way north to La Serena the following day. We arranged to stay in the same hostel, and bade them good night since our bus left at 8am the following morning.