The journey from Auckland to Santiago transported us both back in time and closer to home. But as we relived July 15th in this new, unfamiliar land, I had never felt farther from the life I know so well (albeit a little less these days). We have been catapulted from the comfortably familiar into the daunting unknown, so little do we feel we know about this land in which we now find ourselves.
My first glimpse of Chile is of a dry expanse of thirsty brown land speckled with little coloured houses that sit quietly under the watchful eye of the magnificent Andes. Santiago, like so many cities in this world, is non-descript; it could be anywhere and is only betrayed by its inhabitants. But it finds its redemption in the little pockets of beauty that we came upon in unexpected alleyways and around occasional corners; streets lined with Parisian-esque houses, adorned with swirling wrought iron balconies and wooden shutters, each a different colour of the rainbow.
For the first few days I am a terrible travel companion. Jetlag equals lack of sleep which equals a woman who wants to do little more than sit in the hostel watching DVDs and checking Facebook. Though we do manage to venture out amongst the string of brain-mushing rom-coms, doing so forces me to start speaking the little Spanish I know (because the majority of people here speak no English), which is a complete disaster and only worsens my mood. Then I succumb to a chest infection, and begin to wonder how I’ll survive the next four and half months in this, so far, stressful continent when all I really want to do is go home and make a bloody tiramisu!
I am still moping around with my new found depression on the fourth day, until we step off the bus in the city of Valparaiso, and here, with the force of a mirror dropped on a stone floor, my grouchy disposition smashes into a thousand tiny pieces. Everything we imagined South America would be; Valparaiso is. The scales fall from my eyes and suddenly I can see the magic of this continent that is like no other, and every fear of what we might encounter here melts away. It is a city that has grown up around its harbour, though its proximity to the sea has little to do with its charms. As with Santiago, the land surrounding Valparaiso is brown and lifeless, though it is barely noticeable amidst the sheer volume of colour that engulfs this quirky city; brings it to life. A walk down every vibrant street is more captivating than any museum could ever dream to be; the streets are a gallery in themselves. Houses are painted in every imaginable shade – red, yellow, blue, green, pink, purple, magenta, turquoise, orange, lilac, mint – and their walls adorned with what one might call graffiti, but much of which is art of the finest quality. We spend four days doing nothing other than wondering up and down winding roads, totally entranced by the treasures that lie around every corner. Valparaiso is home to huge numbers of artisans, poets, artists and writers, and it’s easy to see why. Nowhere in the world has inspired me to draw, paint, write, weave and make music more than this place. The city is creatively electrifying and, it seems, it’s catching. I could quite happily spend the next four months soaking up Valparaiso’s infectious energy, but this treasure of a town has sparked an earnest need to discover as much of this continent as possible in what suddenly feels like so little time.
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