small world she said: 2009-12-27

sea lion lounging

Valparaiso is a hilly port city about two hours west of Santiago. Colorful houses stack and recline along the 42 hills that hug a cold and windy bay. To climb the hills you can either weave through alley stairways or take the diagonal route on antique elevators that are as mundane a mode of public transport as the bus system. The beaches that dot this populated stretch of coast (there are many beach towns nearby that could easily be mistaken for Valpo sprawl) unite scalding hot sand with ass-numbingly cold water that's surprisingly clean for a port city. Poet, Nobel prize winner, Chile's most notable bon vivant, Pablo Neruda bought a house here, constantly adding rooms that he filled with treasures from his friends and own travels. One of my personal ideological heroes, the first democratically elected socialist president IN THE WORLD (suck on that Europe)Salvador Allende, lover of peaceful revolution and coconut ice cream, also hailed from here.

click-click-click-click-click

What's special about this city is that there doesn't seem to be any superficial attempt to cultivate an image. Yes Lonely Planet has to convince travelers of it's value, a personality must be compacted into so many words (travel blogs are guilty of this too), so you'll hear of Chilean poets, artists, the ideologically prolific residing here. They say locals are friendlier and more care-free than their Santiaguino counterparts. But you don't sense that the city is desperate to convince the world of this. Which is why, on our first day, I didn't think there was anything special about the place. Everyone and every guidebook said the place is so damn wonderful, so unique. Well, I've seen this backdrop before. The condensed clusters of colorful houses aren't so original (see Guanajuato, La Boca in Buenos Aires, even some neighborhoods of grimy Lima have joined that bandwagon). Other than that, Valpo seemed like any other big dirty city in Latin America. I was proud of my hastily concluded, against-the-grain opinion, but after a few days I started to see the city's unflaunted charms. The meticulous graffiti that tell stories as you descend the hills, the snaking alleys and staircases that don't apologize for an oscillating terrain, the brightly painted facades that transform poverty into quirkyness. Barely any gift stores strive to capitalize off the packaged image of their city with cheap souvenirs. Valparaiso is cool and composed because it really doesn't care what you think.

Here is where you'll find Latin America's biggest New Year's Eve party. Not only was it the New Year, but the change of the calender also marked Chile's (and most of Latin America's) bicentennial anniversary of independence from the Spaniards. Nearly a million visitors came to Valparaiso for the celebration, crowding the streets, funneling into plazas, leaving confetti and champagne bottles in their wake. At midnight, a half hour panoramic fireworks display over the bay. At 12:30 a.m., jubilant mayhem. Bars and clubs overflow. Kisses and dancing must move to the streets, the music is in the laughter and slurred ramblings of a drunk multitude. The party's featured guest- a robust full moon, validates the night's glory and amplifies the madness. The amorous pair up, cuddle and fall asleep on the grass in the park. By some divine respect for this joyous occasion, no one is hurt by the broken glass that seems to be EVERYWHERE. Strangers hugging, with glazed smiles wishing the other a happy one. The most hopeful, indiscriminately loving morning of the year.