The last country of my South America trip was everyone’s favourite long boy, Chile. It does seem to be pronounced ‘chill-lay’ rather than ‘chill-ee’ by Chilean people, so if you hear me say that at any point and think I’m a prick, at least I’m trying to sound authentic.
I arrived into Chile at possibly the most inconvenient hour of the day: 4 am. Brilliant. I had hoped to arrive a little later, as the overnight bus I caught listed around 7 am as the arrival time on the ticket. But apparently our border control section was a lot quicker than it could have been (it did not feel quick), cutting 3 hours off the trip and getting me into Santiago at no-thank-you-o’-clock. Even though I’d booked a reclining, comfortable seat, I didn’t sleep much at all (the conditions that will allow me to sleep well are still being researched by NASA’s top scientists), making me all the more dazed. Luckily, there was a cab driver available, an ATM to get some cash from (so Chile isn’t entirely cashless then), and a hostel booked that had a 24-hour desk.
When I arrived at the hostel, I was technically 11 hours early for check-in. That’s a while. Fortunately, I was in such a pathetically tired state as to evoke pity in the guy at reception, who found and cleaned up a private room for me to crash in for 6 hours, before checking out and in again. I had to pay for this, of course, but I was just overjoyed to have access to a real bed behind a locked door.
Santiago
I only spent one full day in Chile’s capital, and two nights in my hostel, La Chimba. This was the hostel that leant most heavily into the social atmosphere side of things- regular shots were given out in the evenings, and beer pong was played in the reception area. This was fun enough—unlike the universally cold showers—but all of that paled in comparison to the KITTENS strolling around in the garden areas. I couldn’t resist cuddling them at absolutely every chance I got. One of them licked my dress, it was adorable.
Anyway, Santiago. Most of the people I’ve asked about Santiago, who’ve visited or know someone who has, have the same response. Eh, it’s fine. And it is. Fine. Absolutely fine. Unpleasant? Didn’t see anything that was. Amazing? Nope. Absolutely a chaotic neutral kind of town.
I didn’t get much time to explore, but what I did see was similar in an architectural sense to the big cities of Argentina. The colonial era buildings around the central square were pretty, the graffiti littering everywhere was impressive. It was nice. Sure. But I can’t honestly say it was really memorable.
The one place that was though, was, fittingly, the Museum of Memory and Human Rights. This museum documents, in all its details, the crimes committed by the regime under Pinochet that ravaged Chile from the 1970s until the 1990s. I, like most ignorant Europeans, couldn’t claim to know much about this time and place other than that Pinochet was a twat and people got thrown out of helicopters. But this museum was horribly enlightening. Even though the English explanations of displays were sporadic, the timeline and curation were enough to show the scale of the pain inflicted on Chilean people. Their suffering and their resistance were on full display, and it truly was a moving place to visit and to understand the country I was in. I highly recommend it if you are ever out that way, and if not, looking into what happened there. It was not that long ago.
After my stopover in Santiago, I had planned to meet up and stay with my best friend Katy, who has moved out to Chile to live with her girlfriend. Obviously, this was exciting in many ways. Meeting my friend’s partner! Seeing a new place! Not staying in a hostel! What fun! So I hopped on a one hour bus west towards the coast, and by hopped, I mean dragged my suitcase onto the metro, booked the wrong ticket at the bus station and eventually lugged my stuff onto the correct bus.
Viña del Mar
Katy and her partner Stephanie live in the coastal town of Viña del Mar, a place where the majority of houses are made by their owners and piled up onto the hills overlooking the Pacific Ocean. They picked me up from the station, and, after a stop at the local supermarket (with Olympic swimming pool length queues), we headed up to the flat that Stephanie’s Dad had built above their own family house. It was amazingly comfortable and cosy, and it was impressive to know that a man I met had created it all himself. Apparently, a lot of houses in Chile are built this way, by the people, and after 5 years of having their houses, the government is obliged to come in and set up all of the necessities for them (water, electricity etc). Hardcore.
After some delicious home-assembled burgers, I was left to have the entire flat to myself whilst my hosts stayed downstairs in the family home. Getting a whole apartment to myself was a treat enough after so many hostels, but getting such a nice one, which such awesome hosts? It really was one of the top elements of my whole trip. Not surprising behaviour from one of my favourite people, but nonetheless, thank you once again Katy.
I spent three whole days with Katy and Stephanie, meeting their friends and Stephanie’s family. We got to explore Viña a little, took a trip to a seaside town (the fact that the sea in question was the Pacific Ocean never stopped blowing my mind), and I got to eat some absolutely banging food. At home, none of my family like fish, but out in Chile, right along said ocean? Crab, hake, ceviche for the first time (raw fish slightly cooked in lime juice with tomatoes, avocado and onions), and I can’t even remember what else? It was heavenly. I do eat chicken and pork, but I pretty much went pescatarian for a minute there. Delicious stuff.
After a long weekend, my hosts had jobs to do, so I moved on. Not very far on though, just a half hour taxi ride away in fact.
Valparaíso
This is one of Chile’s more popular destinations, considered as kind of a centre for arts and, how to put it…alternative living? Where all the cool kids with wacky haircuts and a band go, basically. Valpo, as I’m going to pretend I’m a local by calling it, is another coastal town, a port that brought immigrants from loads of different places to its hills, back when you needed to sail around all of South America to get to California.
Once again, this is a city that’s largely on the hills, with famous amounts of street art and graffiti covering the rustic houses, steep steps and artisan shops. It’s extremely Instagrammable. Katy and Stephanie had actually taken me here on one of my days with them, but it’s such a notable place that I decided to stay there on my own as well.
Now, initially I booked an Airbnb, to be cheap and easy. It was a woman’s apartment, and when I arrived I realised just how up the hill and out of the town it was. That’s fine, I can walk. Then, upon meeting her, I realised she lived with her youngish daughter. OK, I can handle that.
What I couldn’t handle? The surprise bloody dog. I thought, naively, that all pets had to be advertised on Airbnb—the cats I stayed with certainly were, it’s why I picked those places. But this little shit? A nice present for me. That growled and barked the minute it saw me and every time after. Now, I don’t have any problem with nice dogs, but aggressive little buggers? I cannot be comfortable around them. After texting her to confirm that this dog did actually live there, I was pissed off and had to find myself a hostel in the town for the next three nights. The woman was understanding and chill about it all but…jeez. What if I’d had an allergy? It was a disappointing final Airbnb, and I was off to Casa Volante Hostel the next day.
This hostel was nice enough, and definitely where I did the most socialising of my trip. Hanging out with people for dinner turned into lots (and lots) of wine while chatting on the steps and walkways of Valpo at night. It was good fun, though now that I am 30 and officially Not Young Anymore™, the next days were a little, ahem, delicate.
Valpo is definitely a great place to stroll around in. Particularly the two main hills (Cerro Alegre and Cerro Concepcion) where all the beautiful street art is. However, I will say that once you’ve seen it all a few times (which won’t take long, it’s a small area), there isn’t a huge amount else to do. I did a walking tour because they are cheap and a good way to kill time, and visited Pablo Neruda’s house on the hill. Aaaand then….a bit more walking around. I was here for four days, almost five, but I think two would have been enough for a solo traveller. You live and learn.
(Also, I lived and learnt why you shouldn’t just swap straight into a lower bed bunk that someone else was just sleeping in. Because you will get ringworm. Not as gross as it sounds but like, yeah. Wait for someone to change the sheets. Always).
After stretching my time out as thinly as I could, come Friday evening I set off to another of the world’s more questionable bus stations. I booked myself on a 12-hour bus journey, again overnight, to take me down to Chile’s lake district, and the furthest south in the world I’d ever been…
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