pIt's pretty weird to go on the same vacation twice in two weeks. On Thursday, Kate and I headed to Santiago's finest part of town to board a bus to Valparaiso. After buying tickets, we decided to run a few errands in the neighborhood. We needed snacks and cell phone credits, and figured a mall must be nearby, since this country has a mall for every Starbucks we have at home. If you have ever been to an urban bus station, you probably can imagine the delights we passed: gypsy flea markets and molding neon casinos galore. Errands complete, we got on our double-decker Tur Bus. On the 90-minute ride, I was transfixed by a Jackie Chan kids film: The Spy Next Door and was severely disappointed when the bus stopped just as the bad guys arrived for the final major fight scene. Oh well. I thought I'd never find out how the movie would end...thought tbc.
I booked us a matrimonial suite with a balcony view - just what we needed for our honeymoon getaway. After trying to call for the reception to let us in, and failing, we decided we could start exploring and try checking in later. So, we headed to Palacio Barburizzo, a mansion converted into a manageable art museum, with some nice gardens and healthy city/ocean views. We were lonely on the deserted meandering streets. This is not a poetic overstatement. I counted three people (one, an older man in jorts) in all of our 20-minute wandering. The emptiness allowed for much photo-taking and growing nervousness of everyone knowing something we didn't.
The museum was a good touristic start, at just 75 cents per student, definitely not a wallet drain. As we left, we decided we should go see La Sebastiana, house of Nobel laureate poet and diplomat Pablo Neruda. A marker outside Barburizza said just 2.5 km to go and we'd be there! Great!
Not so great. Those 2.5 km were entirely uphill, at times appearing to be a vertical incline. We paused for a soda break and agreed to try the recommended zero-calorie pineapple soda, the only diet variety available in this cliffside bodega. It was gross, but we both pretended to like it as we passed the time, damning each pole-marker as we spotted them.
When we got to the Neruda house, we were told we had to wait to enter, offering us ample time to peruse the gift shop. We also sent an email to the elusive hostal reception. Once inside, we were told no cameras which is always disappointing if you love taking pictures. These rules always encourage me to take sneaky pictures, out of a pocket so guards and videocameras don't catch you and kick you out and then you can post the high-risk shots on your blog. Thrilling.
As we reached the top floor of the eccentric man's five-story home, we marveled at the sights. An old map by a frenchman, a Jesuit trunk, a green-inked chair, a porcelain sink - and a view of the city and the ocean like no other. I plotted and plotted on how I could get the best shot and as if reading my mind, the guard said to me, "You are so beautiful, would you like to take a picture?"
I was almost as surprised as when the Queen's guard at Windsor Castle responded to me. I guess I have a way with guards. In any event, I got a magnificent panorama and a picture of me and Kate from the supercreeper. We scooted out pretty quickly after that and caught a public microbus home.
After attempting the hostel and leaving a nice voicemail entirely in Spanish, I gave up and we decided to find somewhere else to stay. Luckily, only three other people were visiting Valparaiso so we had no trouble getting a room at the neighboring La Colombina hostel. We'd rate it an 8.5 out of 10 - 1.5 off for such ugly wallpaper in the bedroom and bathroom, 5 for solid hipster but clean ambiance and 3.5 more for the 3.5 people we interacted with there.
Over the evening, with nothing to do in this silent city, Kate and I had a four-course dinner at three different restaurants. First came the hummus at KFE. There, we plotted where to continue eating and settled on a place based on it's food-porn pictures online and sky-high ratings. The only diners there, Kate and I got a balcony table, blankets for our legs, and a sweet sunset - full-moon rise view. We shared a pisco sour, Chile's signature drink, and a pumpkin soup with onion crisp. The olive and chive butter and balsamic vinaigrette were reason enough to come to Concepcion, and we dreamt of the days when we'll be able to actually have full four-course meals in a place like that.
Next came several hours of wandering, considering our options and trying to identify the best place for gnocchi in the city. We took an hour reading break to kill the time and attempt to reach a normal Chilean dinner hour, and get hungry again.
After much struggle (we probably read twenty menus, and some restaurants closed before we finally made a decision), we picked Allegretto for it's cozy, homemade look. That bowl of pasta was out of this world, probably just because we were starving. It could've been a major let-down, all of that anticipation, but it really fulfilled our wildest tomato-saucy, potato-filled basil dreams.
We couldn't leave without taking up their offer on homemade ice cream and the two scoops filled whatever ounce of space we had left in our happy, happy tummies.
Back at the hostel, we chatted with British Laura from Kidderminster, a Cambridge grad BCG consultant, three-years out spending three months traveling - basically, living out a short-term realistic dream for Kate and me. While us future consultants racked her brain for life and career advice, I gave her tons of Santiago tips for her next stop.
After reading and planning for the next day in our high-ceiling, ugly-wall papered room, Kate and I fell asleep, feeling like Valparaiso had been conquered.
No comments:
Post a Comment