7/22/07 Valparaiso
Valparaiso was one of the home cities of Pablo Neruda, and one of the most beautiful cities I’ve ever seen. Chile is better off financially than many of it’s neighbors, for a variety of reasons, including their copper mines as well as a 20 year dictatorship mixed with some economic experiments that paid off (google Chicago Gang). There are those who are of a mind that it was worth it (even though the dictatorship broke more than 100 years of democracy). There are those who remember the disappearances and people killed in the local futbol stadium, and do not think that it was worth it. Chile—well Valparaiso & Santiago at least, is a very European South American country. It is winter there—a mild winter by the coast. I stayed in Valpo the whole time—I was duty dean for two days, and I just wrapped Valparaiso around me like a warm alpaca shawl. It’s a great place for photography, a great place for food and wine, and a great place for reflection. It smelled of cinnamon, incense, and dog poop—there were dogs everywhere. I tried to do a Chile Dog photo series, but really only got one cooperative dog. I also did a little bit of shopping here, as many of you will find out. The currency is basically 550 pesos to a dollar, so math skills were required. The city is known as San Pancho, a nick-name for little San Francisco, since it reminds many of San Francisco—but unlike SF, Valparaiso has a number of cool rickety funiculars all over the city which you can take for 200 pesos up or down. It also has a very modern & clean metro, and a banking street pre-Wall Street.
Our first day there was a national holiday, which didn’t impact our city tour but certainly impacted our dinner plans as we (Tania, myself, & Anna one of the faculty) found out the hard way, wandering around dark streets looking for any open restaurant anywhere. After several failed attempts and several warnings of “peligroso” we finally decided to ask a Chilean family (father, mother & teenage daughter) for a recommendation for a restaurant, tipico Chilean, pizza, Chinese--whatever. They consulted for a while and finally put us on a bus. Then they talked to the bus driver. Then they got on the bus with us. We went about 4 blocks and got off. The street we were on was a main street, but also closed up. They lead us to a tiny dark ally between two big buildings—at the end of this ally was one sign only—J. Cruz Casino. “After you” they said, and so we went, and they followed us in. We opened the door to a small, funky restaurant with antiques and photographs all over the walls, locals at many of the tables, and graffiti on all the tablecloths and open wall spaces. This was a local “club” (aka casino), it was a group of people that got together to eat/provide good food. I believe they were the creators of chorilleno, a typical Valparaiso dish that consisted of a layer of fried potatoes, a layer of sautéed onions & eggs, and a layer of chopped steak, which was served family-style (one large plate, 4 forks). There was also picante sauce—good stuff. Ali & Joel—it was like the Chilean version of McClard’s “spread”. We ended up eating dinner with Jorge, Elienana and their daughter, carrying on our best conversation in Spanish. This is definitely a highlight of the trip. None of us had our cameras though since we were just going out for a quick bite to eat. In the middle of dinner a news clip came on the tv of the ship & the program, which was ridiculously synchronicitous in the best possible way.
I will, as my default, let some of the pictures speak to my experience. One other note on food though: warm street churros (cinnamon covered fried dough), filled with dulce de leche. Yum!
Ode to Salt
Pablo Neruda
This salt
in the salt cellar
I once saw in the salt mines.
I knowyou won'tbelieve me
but it sings
salt sings, the skin of the salt mines
sings with a mouth smothered by the earth.
I shivered in those solitudes when I heard
the voice of the salt in the desert.
Near Antofagasta the nitrous pampare sounds:
a broken voice,
a mournful song.
In its caves the salt moans,
mountain of buried light,
translucent cathedral, crystal of the sea, oblivionof the waves.
And then on every table in the world,salt,
we see your piquant powder sprinkling vital light upon our food.
Preserverof the ancient holds of ships,
discoverer on the high seas,
earliest sailor of the unknown,
shifting byways of the foam.
Dust of the sea,
in you the tongue receives a kiss from ocean night:
taste imparts to every seasoned dish your ocean essence;
the smallest, miniature wave from the saltcellar reveals to us more than domestic whiteness;
in it, we taste finitude.
Pablo Neruda
Valparaiso was one of the home cities of Pablo Neruda, and one of the most beautiful cities I’ve ever seen. Chile is better off financially than many of it’s neighbors, for a variety of reasons, including their copper mines as well as a 20 year dictatorship mixed with some economic experiments that paid off (google Chicago Gang). There are those who are of a mind that it was worth it (even though the dictatorship broke more than 100 years of democracy). There are those who remember the disappearances and people killed in the local futbol stadium, and do not think that it was worth it. Chile—well Valparaiso & Santiago at least, is a very European South American country. It is winter there—a mild winter by the coast. I stayed in Valpo the whole time—I was duty dean for two days, and I just wrapped Valparaiso around me like a warm alpaca shawl. It’s a great place for photography, a great place for food and wine, and a great place for reflection. It smelled of cinnamon, incense, and dog poop—there were dogs everywhere. I tried to do a Chile Dog photo series, but really only got one cooperative dog. I also did a little bit of shopping here, as many of you will find out. The currency is basically 550 pesos to a dollar, so math skills were required. The city is known as San Pancho, a nick-name for little San Francisco, since it reminds many of San Francisco—but unlike SF, Valparaiso has a number of cool rickety funiculars all over the city which you can take for 200 pesos up or down. It also has a very modern & clean metro, and a banking street pre-Wall Street.
Our first day there was a national holiday, which didn’t impact our city tour but certainly impacted our dinner plans as we (Tania, myself, & Anna one of the faculty) found out the hard way, wandering around dark streets looking for any open restaurant anywhere. After several failed attempts and several warnings of “peligroso” we finally decided to ask a Chilean family (father, mother & teenage daughter) for a recommendation for a restaurant, tipico Chilean, pizza, Chinese--whatever. They consulted for a while and finally put us on a bus. Then they talked to the bus driver. Then they got on the bus with us. We went about 4 blocks and got off. The street we were on was a main street, but also closed up. They lead us to a tiny dark ally between two big buildings—at the end of this ally was one sign only—J. Cruz Casino. “After you” they said, and so we went, and they followed us in. We opened the door to a small, funky restaurant with antiques and photographs all over the walls, locals at many of the tables, and graffiti on all the tablecloths and open wall spaces. This was a local “club” (aka casino), it was a group of people that got together to eat/provide good food. I believe they were the creators of chorilleno, a typical Valparaiso dish that consisted of a layer of fried potatoes, a layer of sautéed onions & eggs, and a layer of chopped steak, which was served family-style (one large plate, 4 forks). There was also picante sauce—good stuff. Ali & Joel—it was like the Chilean version of McClard’s “spread”. We ended up eating dinner with Jorge, Elienana and their daughter, carrying on our best conversation in Spanish. This is definitely a highlight of the trip. None of us had our cameras though since we were just going out for a quick bite to eat. In the middle of dinner a news clip came on the tv of the ship & the program, which was ridiculously synchronicitous in the best possible way.
I will, as my default, let some of the pictures speak to my experience. One other note on food though: warm street churros (cinnamon covered fried dough), filled with dulce de leche. Yum!
Ode to Salt
Pablo Neruda
This salt
in the salt cellar
I once saw in the salt mines.
I knowyou won'tbelieve me
but it sings
salt sings, the skin of the salt mines
sings with a mouth smothered by the earth.
I shivered in those solitudes when I heard
the voice of the salt in the desert.
Near Antofagasta the nitrous pampare sounds:
a broken voice,
a mournful song.
In its caves the salt moans,
mountain of buried light,
translucent cathedral, crystal of the sea, oblivionof the waves.
And then on every table in the world,salt,
we see your piquant powder sprinkling vital light upon our food.
Preserverof the ancient holds of ships,
discoverer on the high seas,
earliest sailor of the unknown,
shifting byways of the foam.
Dust of the sea,
in you the tongue receives a kiss from ocean night:
taste imparts to every seasoned dish your ocean essence;
the smallest, miniature wave from the saltcellar reveals to us more than domestic whiteness;
in it, we taste finitude.
Pablo Neruda
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