Los Cerros de Magia

Valparaiso - "Paradise Valley"

The second city on out whirlwind Chilean tour was Valparaiso, a port city about 90 minutes west of Santiago. We hopped a bus for this one, a Chilean version of Greyhound, Tur Bus. To our surprise, it was a rather decent experience! The bus was new and clean, and the amount of stopping was tolerable. And the price was right, 4,ooo pesos a piece, that's roughly $8 a person.

The bus ride took us through Chilean county side, a much needed change of scenery after our few days in Santiago. Dry rolling hills spotted with low shrubby trees gave way to lush valleys planted with fruit trees or grape vines. We had hit wine country, the inner gem of Chile. The stretches of vineyards lasted for miles. The rows if vines were interrupted sporadically by farmhouses or wine estate homes. The scene was slightly reminiscent of Franschoek, South Africa's wine region, but there was a certain lack of European influence here in this South American region. This was still Chile, still Latin America, still slightly behind our western standards.

We began our decent down steep hills, through tight valleys; we were getting closer to the shore. Small houses and tall apartments began to dot the hillsides. The hills led us down around a sharp corner and in an instant, we were in the thick of Valparaiso. We were on a main street that had the hustle and bustle of any busy street in Santiago, but here was different, there was character.

Valparaiso's few main streets ran parallel to the shore line which was one large port. No beach here, just vessels docked, containers being loaded and unloaded and a small grouping of fishermen unloading the day's catch. The buildings lining the streets were another mix of old and new, colonial met modern with a splash of color and character. The main streets were full of tiny stores that sold anything from clothing to car parts, each store unique to its specific product. Hundreds of people swarmed the streets going about their daily business, street vendors and vegetable stalls were selling fresh food and just like the rest of Latin America, the streets were full of wandering street dogs.

Taxis and buses competed for space with the old electric cable buses that still attached themselves to the criss-cross of cables that hung over the streets. The flocks of pedestrians filled the sidewalks and darted out into traffic at their leisure, making traffic halt for them. The atmosphere was chaotic yet somehow charismatic.

A few blocks in from the water, off the main streets, the craziness stops and the noise ceases; this is the foot of the cerros, the hills, of Valparaiso. The world of the cerros is shockingly different from the crazed streets below. Unthinkably steep stairwells lead you into a world of vibrant color and incredible architecture. The zigzag of streets and pasajes (walkways) take you through neighborhoods of brightly painted homes and tiendas (stores) that climb the hills and sit at impossible angles on the land. The colors are vivid hues of reds, blues, yellows and purples and all parts of the building are painted differently; the doors, the doorframes, the shutters.

The wild colors of the buildings rival those of the stencil graffiti and murals, a tasteful addition to the vibrant streets. The favored method of graffiti in Chile seems to be the stencil. The subjects of choice are cartoon characters, political messages and random symbols or faces. They are everywhere, on sides of buildings, in stairwells, even on the ground. The murals are just as numerous but are much larger. Some cover entire sides of buildings boasting random scenes or messages as well. Most are actually beautiful works of art on display for all to see.

From doorways and windows, the friendly locals wave "Hola!" and smile as you walk by. Neighborhood dogs and cats freely roam the streets and guard doorways. Old seemingly abandoned cars sit on street curbs collecting dirt. Maze-like walkways lead you astray and leave you guessing about their destination only to spit you out on a terrace that offers a magnificent view of the busy city below or the neighboring hills on either side.

Throughout the cerros there are asendores, or funiculars, or for us Americans, incline rail cars. They are an easy way to skip over the sometimes exhausting stair climbs, as some can be many many feet high. The cars are small old wooden boxes which rattle themselves close to death as they ascend or descend the nearly vertical hills. The ride was joltingly enjoyable, like an old wooden rollercoaster, although slightly terrifying; you were hoping those old cables were still capable of pulling the rickety car up the incline.

Needless to say, most of my time was spent in the cerros, walking through the streets, taking photos, enjoying the quiet. But, there were things to see down in the city as well. The markets were the most fascinating; dilapidated old buildings whose ground floor held dozens of fruit and vegetable stands and upper levels housed a few "restaurants" that all share a central common seating area. These "restaurants" were basically small family run kitchens who all served similar local dishes.

When you walk into the seating area, the servers from the various restaurants jump at you, beckoning you in Spanish with what I'm sure are glorious descriptions of what their restaurant serves. When you decided which restaurant to eat at, or get annoyed with the persistent Spanish babbling of the servers, you take a seat at one of the small tables covered in a delicate lace table cloth that has seen years of use. The server brings an equally worn placemat and lays down mismatched silverware and paper napkins. A basket full of small loaves of white bread accompanied by a tomato and cilantro "salsa," or sauce, and lemon slices come next. The purpose of the lemon slices is unknown, but the salsa and bread combo were a tasty appetizer. Coke or an orange flavored soda are the beverages of choice, served to you from a glass bottle with an accompanying kiddie sized glass. Menus are all in Spanish, mostly with unrecognizable food item names. But, the two times we chose to eat in the market restaurants, we knew what we were there for.

First it was real empanadas. We had some filled with a delicious white queso, queso and shrimp, and one with mariscos (seafood.) The queso empanadas were fabulous, light fluffy dough shaped like a "D" or like a pirogie, filled with the rich queso, then fried so that the dough crisps slightly and the cheese melts. Paired with the "salsa" that is brought with bread at the beginning of the meal, the queso empanadas make an incredibly delicious snack. I also tried a third empanada stuffed with mariscos, which means "seafood." I was expecting shrimp and fish pieces, maybe. Instead, it was filled with the only seafood item I don't particularly care for, mussels. It was chock full of them, and only them. I picked out the "good parts" and left the rest.

The second market restaurant experience was to try Chiveche, fish cooked with citrus juice. This location was similar to the first, above a market, surrounded by other "restaurants" that all served the same seafood dishes. Our server was the most persistent when it came to the glorious Spanish descriptions of what was on his restaurant's menu, so we chose his restaurant. Same routine, worn place mat, miss-matched silverware, bread with "salsa" and lemon slices. Coke bottle was next, also served with a kiddie sized glass. We ordered our chiveche and waited for it to be prepared. I watched the cook behind the counter cut lettuce and tomato, squeeze lemon juice, do something with a white fish and finally dish up our meal. It arrived to us with a stunning presentation considering our surroundings; a bed of shredded lettuce garnished with tomato wedges and shredded carrots and topped with what looked like tuna salad, the chiveche. The final garnish was unknown to me, but I deemed it a "bivalve of inedible ugliness" and pushed it to the side. The entire presentation floated on the layer of lemon juice that was used to "cook" the fish. It looked lovely but I made the comment that this was our make-or-break meal. Either it was going to be made perfectly and blow us away with its deliciousness, or it wasn't prepared correctly and we would feel the uncooked fish, later.

I thought about that guy on the Travel Channel that travels the world and eats "strange" food. I'm sure he'd seen something stranger than this and I figured this was a cake walk. One bite and my thinking was confirmed, delicious. The flavorful mix of fish that was not too fishy, citrus and seasoning was great and seemed to be prepared correctly, no "fishy" sensations after we finished.

Our food at the market restaurants was much more enjoyable than our first culinary experience in Valparaiso. It was our first night and we chose a bar/restaurant on one of the main streets to eat dinner. There were recognizable food items on the outside menu, so we went in. The bar boasted a "happy hour" and I decided to try the national drink of Chile, pisco. Pisco is liquor made from grapes and really packs a punch. It’s mainly served as a Pisco Sour, pisco, lemon juice and sugar. As imagined, it’s delish.

I was lame and ordered Chilean fajitas, but my counterpart order a local dish called Chorrillana. I'm not sure what this translates into, but it’s a dish that could rival any plate of T-Bonz Tommy Fries, and win. A single order consists of a mound of french fries about 6 inches deep topped with grilled onions, fried egg and various meats. It was Chilean drunken bar food if I'd ever seen it.

The remainder of our time in Valparaiso was spent wandering the city. There were many delightful surprises hidden within the hills, too many to describe here. But the city of hills left me feeling slightly enchanted, I found magic in the hills, my mind was allowed to dream there.