I went to Chile and Argentina for New Year's, which seemed like a good way to close out the 00's. My girlfriend (hereinafter referred to as The Boss because, well, that's pretty much what she is) had been bugging me to take a trip somewhere for a while. Unfortunately, when she says trip, she doesn't mean a romantic weekend away on the beach, unless that beach is in the Caribbean or in some remote island in the Pacific. And that was a bit of a problem, since I've been broke for the past twenty-something years and everything. Thus, the idea of going to nearby countries seemed particularly good, not only due to the cheaper tickets, but also because South America is one of the few places on Earth where Brazilians can find favorable exchange rates. So Chile and Argentina it was (and later I even found out that the people from the Dakar Rally had the same idea. Never felt so trendy in my life).
Because we were flying on The Boss' miles and she was pretty much banking the entire operation, I decided to decline from any participation on the planning or scheduling of our activities. Her trip, her money, her rules. I must say, never in my life I traveled knowing so little about my destination. In fact, on the eve of our departure all I knew was that we would fly to Santiago on the 29th, where we would celebrate the New Year. Then, on the morning of January 2nd we would cross the Andes by bus on our way to Mendoza, Argentina, where we would stay for a few days before heading to Rosario, the only place where they still had mileage seats available for our return, which was supposed to happen either on January 7th, 8th or 9th (I wasn't really sure). As it turns out, even that little bit of information I had was wrong, since we were in fact scheduled to return from Cordoba on the 6th. So, really, all I knew for sure was that I could not let The Boss out of my sight, as it would probably mean I was stranded on a strange land.
Apart from a last minute scramble to finish packing (I was out drinking with friends, our flight was at 5am and, of course, I left it all to the last minute), the flight to Santiago wasn't very newsworthy. When we finally landed, though happy with the start of the trip, I was running on 90 minutes of sleep and coping with the early stages of a hangover, so my mind wasn't exactly at its best and I felt and looked like crap. Plus, I immediately noticed that the air in Santiago was extremely dry and my nose was itching like crazy. Which means I was, at the same time, happy, sleepy, grumpy, dopey, bashful and sneezy. That's six of the seven dwarfs right there, probably a world record. And if you consider The Boss' height (1.54m) and title, a case could be made for Doc's presence as well.
After checking into our hotel and getting some much-needed shuteye, we finally went out to explore our surroundings. We were staying at a neighborhood called Vitacura and within walking distance of a highly-praised shopping center called Parque Arauco, so we figured we could kick things off by going there for lunch/dinner.
I had heard great things about Santiago, considered by many one of the finest cities in South America, so I wasn't really surprised by how nice it looked. Our hotel was located in a really pleasant avenue, with lots of trees and a really nice paseo that had a constant flow of runners and cyclists. I was especially amused by an orange sign in front of the hotel that read Pavimento en Mal Estado (something like Asphalt in Poor Conditions), which meant that they actually sent workers over to install the sign instead of just fixing the road. Great comedy. In any case, it was a truly enjoyable neighborhood, which even had a killer view of the mountains.
After 15 minutes walking we finally arrived at the Parque Arauco and it was love at first sight. That was hands down my favorite place in all of Chile. Unlike your average mall, the Parque has an outdoor plaza surrounded by restaurants and cafes that instills an irresistible urge to just sit down, order a drink and just enjoy the atmosphere. If that doesn't convince you, there's also a giant slingshot that tosses people 30 meters up in the air for the modest price of 30,000 pesos (something like 60 USD). Entertainment for everyone, guaranteed.
While I would have been happy to set camp there for the next few days and just eat and drink the trip away, The Boss was adamant about seeing the rest of the city. See, she practices a type of fascist tourism in which people must wake up early and march all day, taking as many pictures as possible before collapsing from fatigue. It was, in sum, pretty much the opposite of what I was hoping for, but, again, her money, her trip, her rules.
So early the next day, December 30th, the trip was afoot. The plan was basically to take the subway downtown and walk around, and so we did. Now, downtown Santiago wasn't nearly as nice as our little neighborhood and there are only so many churches and cathedrals one can take, but eventually we arrived at a place I actually wanted to visit: the Palacio de la Moneda, seat of the Chilean government. Being a bit of a History aficionado, I had always wanted to see the palace Pinochet bombed nearly to the ground during the coup in 1973, which, according to legend, even after its complete reconstruction in the 1980s still carried some of the bullet holes from those dark days.
Unfortunately, we could not get close enough to inspect the walls and the building seemed entirely too modern to match the images I had in my mind, so I could feel the idea I had of the palace fading away. Apart from the mandatory statues of military figures all around it, the whole thing just did not fit the stereotype. I don't know what I was expecting, but what I was seeing was way too normal for a place that had such a powerful history.
I barely had five seconds to be bummed out about it when I noticed a little ruckus nearby. There were people walking into that little moat, shouting things like A lucha Chile! and Abajo el gobierno! Soon enough, two dozens carabineros showed up, surrounded the trespassers and, after a moment of hesitation (it looked like some of the brave policemen did not want to get wet), proceeded to escort them out of the moat, using gentle persuasion whenever necessary. Much to my dismay, that was the end of it: no teargas bombs, no rubber bullets, no bloodshed, just half a dozen people being taken into custody. But still, I felt that was more like it. My first Latin American protest, and just in front of the Palacio de la Moneda. Hell yeah! They even had a second manifestation happening on the other side of the palace, but that one was part of some world march for peace and non-violence and just lacked that Latin American revolutionary vibe. Still, all in all, a very productive visit protest-wise.
Before leaving the premises and resuming our march across Santiago, we decided to check out the Cultural Center they have below the palace, hoping it would have some sort of museum of Chilean history. Fat chance. Instead, they had yet another exposition with those Chinese terracotta warriors that seem to be everywhere nowadays. My guess is that the Chinese found so many of those dudes buried that they just don't know what to do with them, so decided to hand them out like chocolate on Halloween.
Next on our list was the Cerro de San Cristóbal, a hill located in the middle of the Parque Metropolitano de Santiago, from where we could ride a cable ferry that was supposed to provide an amazing view of the city. The park is quite nice, but the hill is as steep as they come. So, to ascend to its top, we had to take the funicular, which was just bumpy and old enough to give us a little adrenaline rush. I was surprised to learn, while there, that the City Zoo is also on that hill. How on Earth they managed to build an entire Zoo on a hill that steep really stirred my curiosity, but at that point I was too hungry, the sun was too hot and my feet were too sore. I just wanted to get the damn cable ferry thing done so I could retreat to a room with air conditioning, soft cushioning and food. So, after I was done bitching about everything, we decided against the Zoo, only to discover, a week later, that five rare white tiger cubs had just been born there (apparently we wouldn't have been able to see them, which is the only thing that prevented me from kicking myself. Hard).
Once on the summit, we found out that the ferry was out of order, which, I must confess, didn't make me too upset. And at least we could enjoy a nice view of the city, albeit with a very thick smog. At first I refused to believe a city with so much green everywhere and without any visible industries and with no apparent traffic problems could be so polluted, but, as it turns out, Santiago has considerable environmental issues and much of what I had been attributing to the dry air had been in fact caused by pollution. I suppose that, deep inside a valley, the pollution released in the city can't really escape anywhere. So, on that note, we decided to go back to the Parque Arauco to eat and do some light shopping before calling it a day.
The next day was New Year's eve and The Boss had decided she wanted to go on a tour to the nearby cities of Valparaiso and Viña del Mar. The original idea was to make two day-long trips in Chile: one to the wine country and the other to those two cities. However, though usually a masterful travel planner, she had forgotten to take some things into account this time around. For instance, that the New Year's is big in Chile. Big as in the-entire-freakin'-country-stops-on-January-1st-and-you-would-be-hard-pressed-to-find-a-place-to-eat big. So we could only go on one tour and, since she doesn't drink at all and we would already see enough wine in Mendoza anyway, the famous Concha y Toro wineries took the hit. No Casillero del Diablo for me.
The other thing we failed to notice is that Viña del Mar is the foremost touristic destination on the coast of Chile and, as such, the place to be for New Year's. The city was expecting to more than 1 million visitors from Santiago that day, which meant that a) our tour would be shorter than usual and b) traffic would be hell.
So we hopped on the bus and began our journey to the Pacific, while the tour guide talked about Santiago, about Chile, about the wineries, tunnels, rivers, mountains... about pretty much anything that crossed our path. Because we had to get up at 6am I was half asleep most of the way, listening without paying much attention. But then she said something about Chile being a tri-continental country (as in it was part of 3 different continents) and that was news for me, so I decided to listen closely. Apparently, aside from continental Chile, they also claim sovereignty over the Easter Island (which is internationally recognized) and part of Antarctica (not so much). Thus, Chile was simultaneously in South America, Oceania and Antarctica. The chutzpa on those people!
Immediately the latent regional rivalry kicked in and my first instinct was to yell that they were barely part of South America, squeezed between the Andes and the Pacific, let alone of three continents. Never mind that the bit of Antarctica they claim is also "part" of Argentina and of the UK and that they exercise no effective jurisdiction over that territory. Or that the rest of the world actually signed a treaty saying Antarctica could not be claimed by any country and scoffs at their pretense. But the guide seemed to be a really nice lady and I like the country, so I decided to let it go. Nevertheless, I'm always amazed by this facet of South Americans, full of bravado even though they can't back it up. It was the same thing with the Argentine, who still put the Falklands on their maps even after getting their asses handed to them in the 1980's. But I digress...
When we finally made it to Valparaiso, I was less than impressed. Valparaiso is one of Chile's most important seaports and was declared a World Heritage Site by UNESCO in 2003. In addition, it houses the National Congress and Pablo Neruda's former home (now a museum). But, even though it looks pretty from above, the city is actually quite ugly and chaotic, crammed somewhat precariously between the mountain and the ocean. It looks a lot like one of Rio's favelas, only with more colorful walls. But hey, the Greeks went all-white on similar conditions and have been making some serious money ever since, so who am I to judge?
In any case, from the entire city, I only truly liked three things: the mandatory city square filled with statues of soldiers who died horrible deaths on some random battlefield, which looked quite nice; a random monument resembling a copper wire celebrating Chile's status as the world's leading copper producer or something; and the building of the old Stock Exchange, which could not have its exterior changed because of the UNESCO thing and thus forced the Chileans to improvise during its expansion. Pretty cool.
As for the vaunted Valparaiso seaport, it looked a lot like, well, a seaport. Hectic, noisy, dirty and filled with rickety boats overcrowded with tourists. Nothing truly memorable. And, just like that, our time in Valparaiso was up and we had to move on to Vinã del Mar, as the traffic became increasingly worse. Meanwhile, this British dude on the bus was really disappointed he wouldn't get to ride any of the famous funiculars of the city, what, according to the guide he read, was like going to Venice and not going on the Gondolas. Mmm, right. Maybe he was onto something, but I definitely wasn't too eager to board one of those things.
Viña del Mar was literally down the street, on the northern part of a large bay shaped like a "3". The city was definitely prettier than Valparaiso, but still a long way from being the ultimate beach destination described by the tour guides. Cold water, dark sand... it might be the Pacific, but it is no Zihuantanejo, that's for sure. We did get to see, however, an original Easter Island head, one of the few ever to be removed from the island, so there was that.
We started our drive back at about 5pm and, by then, the traffic towards Viña del Mar was backed up all way to Santiago - and I do mean all the way. It's only a 130km trip, but I bet some of those people only got there in 2010. As for The Boss and I, we didn't have any special plans, so we thought about having a quiet night; perhaps having dinner at the Parque Arauco and then watch the fireworks on TV or something.
Again, that was a gross underestimation of the impact of el año nuevo in Chile. By the time we got back, there wasn't a single restaurant in Santiago willing to seat us. The waiters on the few places still open were so anxious to leave that even the people already on the tables didn't dare to order anything else. Our plan B, to buy some goodies at a nearby supermarket, also didn't pan out due to premature closing. And that's how my last supper of the decade was a combo of shady room service and crap bought from a convenience store. It tasted every bit as good as it looks, even if The Boss, always the gourmet, refused to try the "piece of knee" I accidentally ordered, claiming her dad would disown her if she ever ate such a thing. At least we got to watch the fireworks of two different time zones (Copacabana and Viña del Mar) on TV, so, again, there was that.
And if we thought December 31st was bad, it was only because we were yet to see what January 1st had to offer, which was nothing. Not a soul anywhere. We did find restaurants open for lunch, but even our waitress was struggling badly with a hangover. But that general slumber saved me from a trip to an artsy market in the outskirts of Santiago that The Boss really wanted to see, so no complaints, not from me. Plus, we would be leaving to Argentina early the next day and had a full day going up and down the Andes coming up, so I rather welcomed the lazy day.
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