All posts tagged: Chile

Valparaíso: the city of street art

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It’s the 16th of December. I’ve just spent two straight days on a bus, listening to almost all of Dracula, unabridged. If I leave now and catch a flight from Santiago to Brazil I could be on my original flight and back in London tomorrow. We’ve just arrived at our hostel in Valparaíso, the city by the sea. The flight’s still cheap on Skyscanner. I can actually do this. I get as far as the checkout screen for the airline but something stops me. I close my browser. I’m not ready to go home. I smile for the conviction and go to tell Caroline. Valparaíso has long been reported to me as a favourite place by many travellers going in the opposite direction – not only in Chile, but in some people’s whole itineraries. I’ve already been shown pictures of it, accompanied by awed and enthusiastic commentary. And as we walk into town that first day, I’m not surprised. It’s immediately my favourite too. The city is made up of 42 cerros (hills) giving necessity …

San Pedro de Atacama: exploits in the Chilean desert

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Another long bus journey takes me to my next destination in Chile. I’ve vowed not to take another night bus on this trip if I can help it, after some of the more horrific journeys of Bolivia. So I idle the day looking out on to the passing barren landscape in a mild stupor, audiobook in my ears. I’m interrupted only when we cross into a new region of Chile where our bags have to be scanned. It’s at this point I discover the oil and vinegar I was ill-advisedly transporting – in a stubbornness not to waste such expensive items – have exploded odorously into the side-pocket of my bag, making the bus and the rest of my day smell like a heavily dressed salad. On this journey I also feel the full absurdity of the detour which had led me back to La Paz and not across the Chilean border after the salt flat tour. For San Pedro de Atacama – the mid-desert backpacker hub where I’m heading – is exactly where I …

Iquique: a Chilean writing retreat

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It is a sad and bewildering bus journey that takes me away from Bolivia and on to the Chilean coast. I say an early morning goodbye to Adam who flies home that day and board my 5.30am bus bound for Arica – a surfing town in the north of Chile. Exhausted and rather deflated by Adam’s departure I sleep my way through most of the early part of the journey, waking to find stunning volcanoes stark on the landscape as we reach the border. My Spanish receives a severe knock here as I hear the Chilean accent for the first time and regress back to my Mexico self, shaking my head and saying no intiendo after most exchanges. This makes the border crossing – stressful as they can be anyway – all the more bemusing, especially as Chile is extremely strict with what goes into the country. All our bags have to be scanned. The guy on the seat next to me is far too chatty for my contemplative mood and his accent especially indecipherable. I …