July 8th: Valparadiso

Getting a bit ruder inside the house of Pablo Neruda
We start the day with a graffiti walking tour of Valparaiso. This town is full of amazing street artwork, you've just got to see it for yourself. The end of the tour drops us at the house of Pablo Neruda, no introduction needed I presume. The poet's place is quaint to say the least, definitely worth the visit. Seated on one of the hills overlooking the city, with commanding views of the pacific, this 3 story-building is a pearl on the necklace that is Valparaiso. Filled with curious objects - Neruda was a big collector - we take our time to take in all this beauty this residence has to offer. Or, at least we try: within minutes of having bought the entrance ticket, a huge flock of chatty Chilean teenagers floods the entire house, in search of answer to their school assignment. Bye bye calm and serenity. Neruda's a poet, but with these kids about, you'd never know it. Luckily my height plays a serious advantage here as well as in the rest of South America, at least I can still see where I'm going. Most of the teenage noise I block out with the help of the audio tour headset. I try to wait for the entire class to pass me, but there are too many of them, so I adapt to my new surroundings and hop from one corner of the house to the other, marching boldly, which makes these little chatterboxes scatter. A few snaps from Neruda's dining room conclude our visit, we're happy to leave these chatty Chilean sardines behind us, and hunt for some lunch.

Seafood supreme
On a tip from the Pilcomayo hostal staff we head to the Valparaiso market for more seafood: El Rincon de Pancho on the top floor is an institution, and does not disappoint. This time I have to have the ceviche and I share with Blandine some kind of mixed seafood dish, completely covered in grilled cheese. It comes with loads of bread, like a seafood-cheese fondue. To round things off nicely, I get the lucuma ice cream. Not bad tasting, but nothing amazing either.

Tag, Valparaiso you're it!
In the afternoon we work our way through a labyrinth of cute, narrow streets, ever climbing and descending, and full of the coolest graffiti, until we end up at Aduana (Plaza Weelwright), take the ascensor up to plaza 21 de Mayo, where we enter Cafe Mirador. Tired from all the walking we reward ourselves with a fantastic sunset view over the city and the harbour, over what must be the worst coffee ever served on the Latin American continent. What a tourist rip-off! I can't even drink it halfway and am forced to leave the place with a bad taste in my mouth.

Dial "0" for murder
We're told to take the "0" bus at Aduana, so we make our way down by foot, shoot a few pictures of Lolo on the way, then hop on a bus that drives along all the cerros. It's the ride of a lifetime: the busdriver plans to show everyone on this bus who's the boss of these windy, hilly Vaparaiso streets and puts the pedal to the medal from the minute we get on. As the city moves in and out of view with each curve in the road, so do images of my life. The guy's good, REAL good, but he needs to vent his frustration on a skateboard instead of a city bus with real people on it. As people keep falling on my lap and stumbling over my shoes, I realise that I've never written a will.

We get off the bus after about 25 minutes, just before our stomach plop out of our mouths. We're on the other side of town, in the dark, in the middle of nowhere. The only sensible thing to do is get on a "0" bus that drives us back. Are we going to get killed? This time around the bus driver is not suicidal, and we even have time to recognise the stop on top of Cerro Alegre, where our hostal is located, which saves us a lot of walking. Our stomachs are still working on the lunchtime excesses, so we decide to keep it cool that night and just watch some TV in the hostal lounge before we turn in. A glass of Chilean red offered by our night time housesit, together with a bit of blogging concludes the evening for me, Blandine's asleep since hours.