If we’ve discovered one universal truth, it is this: bus stations are always located in the grittiest, skiddy-est parts of every town, city and village. Another truth: if there were pageants for ugliest bus stations in dirtiest parts of a city, Valparaíso, Chile would walk aways with the flowers and scholarships. Hands down. No Ms. Congeniality, she.
Add to that our inimitable Newland timing and a chilly (Chile?) overcast day and we knew we weren’t in Kansas anymore.
I had really been looking forward to visiting Valparaíso (“Valpo” to the locals). Built on dozens of impossibly steep hillsides overlooking the Pacific, Valpo is a virtual labyrinthe of streets and cobblestone alleyways bursting with street art, funiculars (16 in all) and incredible architecture. It was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2003 and is nicknamed ever-so-hopefully “the Jewel of the Pacific”. Hmmm.
Our Lonely Planet also taught us that Valpo boasts Latin America’s oldest stock exchange, the continent’s first volunteer fire department, Chile’s first public library, and the oldest Spanish language newspaper in continuous publication in the world, El Mercurio de Valparaíso. So what’s not to like, right?
Well. Well. WELL. We were spat out onto the filthy sidewalk of the Valpo bus station on what turned out to be a Chilean national holiday. We started walking towards Plaza Sotomayor and grew increasingly perplexed by the empty, ghost-town vibe of this alleged ‘Jewel’. Block after block was empty. Stores closed. Sidewalks deserted. Where was everybody? And then we started noticing all the temporary fencing set up along the streets. I turned to Mike and said, rather hopefully, “maybe there’s a marathon?”. Ha.
We grew increasingly nervous as we walked. Five Newlands in all our Patagonia finery walking these deserted, filthy streets. Huh? It didn’t help when we rounded a corner and started seeing dozens of police, fully kitted-out in all their riot gear. Ummmm….que pasa, por favor?
After endless pantomiming, a friendly young riot-clad officer suggested that we leave. Asap. Or at least try to head to higher ground. Apparently, a protest was soon about to start and he thought it may be prudent to take our three young kids and, well, leave. Like, lickety split.
We headed up the nearest convenient incline and found ourselves well above the city within minutes. We could see and hear the protest begin but we relaxed a bit, high above the crowds.
The protest turned out to be a peaceful one and it didn’t actually last very long. After finding a little café for breakfast, we struck out in earnest to see what all the Valpo hoopla was about. At first glance, we were less than impressed. But then slowly…ever so slowly…this arty, edgy city started to grow on all of us. We lost ourselves in the endless alleys in a city built for parkour. The kids were hopping and jumping and sliding and bouncing from one art installation to the next.
Despite the overcast day, the colours were crazy vivid. Every street, every step, every doorway, every corner was another working art gallery. And Valpo grew on us some more.
We took some funiculars and explored the hillsides. By late in the afternoon, we felt comfortable enough to head back down to the main square. It was like night and day. Where earlier the streets had been deserted and eerily still, they were now bustling with families and hawkers and kids on bikes and ice cream vendors and tourists. It was hard to believe we were in the same city.
this for our journalist friend, Lori
We made it through the crowds to the still-quiet Plaza Sotomayor and spotted a Starbucks. And to us, Starbucks now means two things: free bathrooms with toilet paper and free wifi. Score. We sat on the Plaza, quaffed some caffeine and started eyeing a particularly good-lookin’ motorcycle parked beside us. We noticed the Quebec plates and started chatting with our table mates. Turns out that they’re Canadian and that the motorcycle’s owner, Aaron, is an engineer on a two year motorcycle trip from Quebec down to the tip of South America. He’s now on his way home.
Throughout our travels, it’s been really cool to meet so many people doing things that I couldn’t conceive of before this trip. From locals to expats, travellers to entrepreneurs, meeting so many folk and hearing their stories has been one of the unexpected highlights.
I love this one because the Starbucks barista jumped right in…
Aaron was great about letting the kids sit on his bike. Over and over and over. “My turn!”. “No, it’s MY turn!”. And I could see the wheels turning in Mike’s head. He did a six week bike trip through the southern US back in his twenties and, on this trip, he’s been talking a lot about getting another motorcycle.
After watching Aaron zoom away, we wandered for another hour or two down to the busy, working port, through some ‘zestier’ parts of town and back towards the bus station. Valpo was exhausting. Bigger than life. Grittier than almost anywhere we’ve been. But also strangely beautiful with its colourful artwork and eclectic funiculars. We may have started off on the wrong foot, but it got under our skin. And even on a cloudy day, the colours of Valpo will be hard to forget.
