The morning is cool, fog shrouds the bay, and the rumble of tires on cobblestones wakes us. After breakfast we walk a long windy street to Pablo Neruda's home—well, one of his homes. I like a country where a poet is financially well off. Neruda's home is closed Mondays, we discover, but the walk is worth it, block after block of hillside homes, bay views, and colourful murals. And of course dogs. Dogs are everywhere. Not scary dogs, but dogs sleeping and investigating other dogs. Curiously, the poop situation is not bad like in Buenos Aires.
On the other hand, many Valparaiso homes are badly neglected which strikes me as odd as i would think the real estate is valuable. This to me is the Valparaiso puzzle: beautiful location , comfortable seaside weather, many tourists, and an abundance of artistic talent that fills the city with colorful and surrealistic murals. But my neighborhood aside, much of the infrastructure is in poor shape. I suppose there isn't the wealth to maintain the homes, sidewalks, stairs and roads. Most streets are clean and i see people sweeping sidewalks and washing and painting, but Valparaiso could be much better.
From Neruda's home we walk down the hill, taking a long staircase which belies what I've just written, it is trashy and smells of urine. At the bottom of the hill, near the bay, we pick up sandwich makings at the supermercado then head back up another hill to the apt on Galos street. Most grocery stores are tiny, not much bigger than a couple of phone booths; the town only has a few large grocers.
We then set out for Sotomayor square which I find surrounded by a few attractive old buildings and, on one side, the seaport. The most beautiful building is military so I leave my camera in my bag. Earlier, while standing on a hill, I photographed a few military ships but it was from a discreet distance. I bet Chile has more military ships in this little harbor than in the whole Canadian navy. You may have to be Canadian to see the humor in this.
We ride up a funicular, Ascensor El Peral (100 pesos or US$0.20), to Paseo Yugoslavo, which provides a great lookout over the harbor and saves a lot of climbing. The funicular, one of a handful that are still running, is a rickety wooden box pulled up a rusty track.
As we walk up the hill we stop in several shops selling arty stuff. A photographer with a studio on Lautaro Rosas (Hiperfocal) spends time with me explaining how he takes digital images and prints them on cloth, producing wonderfully moody black and white prints, and each print, even from the same original, looks very different. I love black and white and I buy three of his prints.
So the day is spent wandering the city, enjoying the murals and the views, walking up and down steep streets and stairs, and trying to understand why the city is in its current state. I think most of the buildings will collapse in the next big earthquake. Dinner (at Totobistoto) is good soup but bland pasta, and now it is late and we are in for the night.
