We arrived early by bus to Santiago on Friday morning so that JB could catch his flight back to Seattle on Saturday afternoon. At 7 am we groggily accepted help from an obvious shiester - an overeager taxi driver - who attempted to charge us three times the amount the ride to our hostel should have cost. JB had seen him bumping up the meter by hand, so we managed to talk him down to just twice the normal cost. In retrospect, compared to the amount I lost when I forgot my shoes on the bus in BA, this was a small price to pay for an early arrival.
Our hostel, in the tourist haven of Bellavista, was recommended by my friend Lara from London. I first met Lara in my language program in Buenos Aires, and then ran into her again randomly in Ushuaia, the southernmost city of the (small) world. We determined that we would be crossing paths again in Santiago and purposefully booked the same hostel in the very bohemian, beautiful neighborhood of Bellavista, where Chile's pride, Nobel prize-winning poet Pablo Neruda, made one of his many famous homes with his third wife Matilda Urrutia.
Neruda's houses are full of random objects collected during his years abroad as an ambassador for Chile in multiple countries, as well as the work of fellow artists/communists (including a fascinating portrait of Matilda by Diego Rivera that I admired in the Santiago house, La Chascona). He was especially fond of colored glass - stained-glass windows and doors and colored wine glasses, which he said were more fun to drink from.
A very romantic person, Neruda reminds me of Diego Rivera because he was large, with an enormous nose (very distinct profile), not the most attractive man - and yet very much a ladies man. La Chascona was his and Matilda's love nest in Santiago before they went public with the relationship. When his first wife finally died at least 10 years later, he married Matilda. Not sure how his second wife plays into this?
The house is made of different buildings for each room (living room, bar, dining room, library, etc.), connected by outdoor walkways and staircases. Santiago must not get too cold in the winter. It was stifling while we were there. My overall impression was that the house is a freeze-frame of a bohemian artist's home in the early -70s. JB loved it, of course. No photos allowed - sorry!
Saturday morning we hiked up the nearby Cerro San Cristobal, where all the Santiagueños were getting some serious weekend exercise, and then took the funicular (gondola/tram) back down.
Smoggy Santiago vista from Cerro San Cristobal - the city stretches beyond sight in every distance. Yuck.
We quenched our thirst with one of Chile's most popular drinks: mote con huesillo. An incredibly sweet wheat tea with canned peaches and a type of corn-hominy, it basically tastes like drinking canned peaches in their syrup. The hominy is a cool addition.
Mote con huesillo
And then JB caught a shuttle to the airport and left me with three more weeks in Chile with no plans, no reservations or prearranged bus tickets. What to do next?
Our hostel, in the tourist haven of Bellavista, was recommended by my friend Lara from London. I first met Lara in my language program in Buenos Aires, and then ran into her again randomly in Ushuaia, the southernmost city of the (small) world. We determined that we would be crossing paths again in Santiago and purposefully booked the same hostel in the very bohemian, beautiful neighborhood of Bellavista, where Chile's pride, Nobel prize-winning poet Pablo Neruda, made one of his many famous homes with his third wife Matilda Urrutia.
Neruda's houses are full of random objects collected during his years abroad as an ambassador for Chile in multiple countries, as well as the work of fellow artists/communists (including a fascinating portrait of Matilda by Diego Rivera that I admired in the Santiago house, La Chascona). He was especially fond of colored glass - stained-glass windows and doors and colored wine glasses, which he said were more fun to drink from.
A very romantic person, Neruda reminds me of Diego Rivera because he was large, with an enormous nose (very distinct profile), not the most attractive man - and yet very much a ladies man. La Chascona was his and Matilda's love nest in Santiago before they went public with the relationship. When his first wife finally died at least 10 years later, he married Matilda. Not sure how his second wife plays into this?
The house is made of different buildings for each room (living room, bar, dining room, library, etc.), connected by outdoor walkways and staircases. Santiago must not get too cold in the winter. It was stifling while we were there. My overall impression was that the house is a freeze-frame of a bohemian artist's home in the early -70s. JB loved it, of course. No photos allowed - sorry!
Saturday morning we hiked up the nearby Cerro San Cristobal, where all the Santiagueños were getting some serious weekend exercise, and then took the funicular (gondola/tram) back down.
Smoggy Santiago vista from Cerro San Cristobal - the city stretches beyond sight in every distance. Yuck.
We quenched our thirst with one of Chile's most popular drinks: mote con huesillo. An incredibly sweet wheat tea with canned peaches and a type of corn-hominy, it basically tastes like drinking canned peaches in their syrup. The hominy is a cool addition.
Mote con huesillo
And then JB caught a shuttle to the airport and left me with three more weeks in Chile with no plans, no reservations or prearranged bus tickets. What to do next?
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