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Published: November 21st 2014
Santiago Statue
Statue in Parque Forestal opposite our hostelUnusually and inconveniently we arrived in Santiago during the early evening. Our normal routine of travelling overnight by bus has three advantages; your accommodation is essentially free, everything’s open when you arrive and the street signs/landmarks are clearly visible. Luckily, Santiago is as urbanised as you can get in South America. Rather than negotiating with local taxi drivers and dusty unmarked lanes we negotiated the metro and pedestrian crossings. Finding our hostel with relative ease we unloaded our bags and headed out for pizza.
The pizza place, literally around the corner, was a hangout for the local skaters. It operated in a Starbucks ‘give us your name’ style. Apparently, in order to order from this place you also had to have the right name. Lake had no chance. ‘Que nombre?’, ‘Rebekah’, said Rebekah, ‘No, que nombre?!’, ‘Si, Rebekah’, ‘Ah no, Que no-ombre?!’. Exasperated, Rebekah tried a different tact, ‘Chris’, she said. ‘Ah, si Chris!’. Our order was accepted. The pizza arrived, was scoffed and we headed to bed, weary but looking forward to exploring our first true city in several months.
Leaving our hostel the next morning the air that greeted us was crisp and
Santiago Skyline
Bekah looking out towards the Andes mountains chilly. A world away from the blazing desert surrounding San Pedro we had been in only days before. It was oddly homely though; like the early December weather that heralds the run up to Christmas.
We navigated our way to Santa Lucia hill in central Santiago. This hill sized rock is the base for a castle and public park offering grand 360 degree views of Santiago, once we’d traipsed up umpteen steps of course. Amongst the crisp blue skies, beyond the Santiago skyline, appeared a long line of clouds, after closer inspection Bekah revealed them to be the snow-capped peaks of the Andes, shrouded in distant haze. It would be these mountains we’d be crossing in a week’s time when we travelled onto our last stop in South America, Argentina.
We took in the view, snapped some photographs and descended the rock to continue our true expedition for that day. The search for a Magic the Gathering card shop (also known as goon club if you listen to Bekah). We were distracted however. A man eating ice cream was climbing the steps. We followed the route he appeared to have taken and came across
the source of his bounty. We bought two. Mine was finished by the time we hit the streets; Bekah’s was all gone shortly afterwards.
A short introduction to Magic the Gathering; it’s a trading card game and something I had gotten into shortly before leaving in our trip. It is also a game played around the world and the cards themselves appear in many different languages, including Spanish. I was on the hunt for a few packs of said cards as a memento of our trip. Via some online searches and some legwork around Santiago we came across a shop nestled in the middle of a nondescript shopping centre. My shopping urge sated and Bekah’s patience coming to an end I bagged my haul and we headed out for some more traditional sightseeing around town.
Our next item on the list for the day was a free walking tour. This was something we had done in Sucre, Bolivia and had very much enjoyed (although we had taken the tour at the end of our stay rather than the more sensible beginning). On our way there we passed the Teatro Municipal and a sigh for
Teatro Municipal, Santiago
Getting seated for the opera Otello (Othello in English). Spontaneously we headed in to see if there were any tickets left (and within our price range). There were (maybe at a push), for that evening. The free walking tour was put in hiatus for a day whilst we headed back to the hostel to scramble through our bags in search of something suitable to wear to the opera. My outfit, the same as what I wore every day, with the addition of a leather belt. Bekah’s, a dress and some mascara (for the first time in two months) would work nicely.
Seated in the grand surroundings of Santiago’s gold leaf covered theatre it was easy to forget we were meant to be travelling, not holidaying in South America. My zip-off trousers and walking shoes reminded me of our true place. The curtain was raised and the performance began. It wasn’t until the interval that Bekah queried the Spanish subtitles above the stage. A brief explanation that operas were in Italian and the penny dropped. Hoping that none around us understood English, we both settled into our comfy red velvet chairs and enjoyed the rest of the performance.
The luxury
of the night before was not allowed to overtake us. We were reminded of our true place in the world by being woken at three in the morning by some loud Germans outside our hostel room. Bleary eyed, we caught the subway to Parque Metropolitano, spotting Santa/someone dressed as Santa on the way. The chilly, misty morning woke us up nicely. Parque Metropolitano, like the day before is situated on a hill amidst the European style of Santiago’s sprawling buildings; this hill however, did not require you to traipse up a mountain of steps. Instead we took the near vertical tram to the top of the hill. Upon arrival we discovered the top was the meeting point for a group of local insane people who regularly ran/cycled up the hill. We visited the statue of the Virgin Mary, perched at the very top of the hill, bought a hilarious postcard (to be sent to Gareth and Christie, ask them to show you if you’re interested) and then began our march back down to the base of the hill.
Our next stop for the day was the former Santiago home of Pablo Neruda. A Chilean hero, Pablo Neruda
was a poet who became a figurehead for those Chileans who stood against the dictatorship of Augusto Pinochet. (As an aside; it was only after a discussion with Rodrigo, who we had met in Peru that I came to understand why Margaret Thatcher has supported Pinochet so vigorously during the battle for his extradition. A little taught piece of history in Britain is the Chilean dictator’s support, moral and material for Britain’s retaking of the Falklands in 1982. In light of this the protection Pinochet received from Britain becomes more understandable, if still unjustified. Anyway, back on topic.) We took an automated audio guide around Neruda’s Santiago home. Memorable objects included disguised doors, creepy dolls, Mexican glassware and the highlight, at least for me, awards from the French, Soviet Union and even a gold medal which formed part of the Nobel Prize for literature which Neruda received in 1971. The house was fascinating and told a piece of history little heard in the UK.
The next stop on our tour around Santiago was the Museo de Bella Artes. Housed in a St. Pancras style building the exhibits were interesting but were overshadowed by the mime artist performing
Mosaic
Mosaic in Pablo Neruda's garden, Santiago amidst the traffic outside. We joined the hundreds of onlookers who as he stopped traffic, collected tolls for passing and pretended to be hit. Huge cheers erupted for those drivers who played along and boos and jeers for those without a sense of humour. Once the mime artist made clear (though his own silent art of course) that he wanted money for booze, sex and drugs, the crowd started paying up. We left, heading for the mini fair that seemed to be taking place opposite. It turned out to be celebrations for ‘Dia de los ninos’, the day of the children. Bekah was distracted by the abs of a man performing 20 feet in the air, suspended by ribbons and hanging from a tree. We managed to buy some popcorn, despite this distraction. The combination of cold, crisp air, the smell of roasting street food and celebration combined continued to remind us that Christmas this year would be spent 2000 miles from home.
Although we would leave Chile via a bus from Santiago our final day would be spent in Valparaiso, a moderately sized port town whose fame is derived from its colourful buildings perched upon ascensor
(near vertical trams) accessible hilltops. At least we had planned for it to be the day, our laziness got the better of us and by the time we’d got up, got ready and caught the bus it was gone noon.
Valparaiso was pretty enough. We spent our time taking photos of the brightly coloured, colonial style houses; riding the ascensors and enjoying an outrageously lavish fish supper. An imitation (?) Banksy adorned one of the many graffiti strewn walls. Most could be better described as murals. The colonial, bohemian, artistic charms of the town were just that, charming. And whilst we’d been charmed for the afternoon, an afternoon was pretty much enough. Our lay-in seemed well timed.
Sun soaked, camera full, stomach full; we headed back to Santiago on an early evening bus. The next morning another bus would take us out of Chile, over and through the snow-capped peaks of the Andes and onto our final destination in South America, the beef fed* lands of Argentina.
* Hopefully including a vegetarian option for Bekah.
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