Valparaiso, Chile

 

 

 

 

An absolute oxymoron if ever there was one. ‘Valpo’ is intriguing bohemian beauty and/or utter shithole. Either, both.  It’s the Barcelona of South America, a merchant port town, from it’s heyday at the turn of the 20th century.You would recognise from it’s iconic postcard image of ‘funiculars’ (elevators) that tilt-shift up the mountainside.

In reality it’s London blitz, meets absinth, meets the in inside of Amy Winehouse’s head (I imagine). Shattered by an earthquake in 1906, or last week you would be forgiven for thinking, the streets wind round like psychedelic rabbit warrens. The sepia camera settings are definitely off, it’s like being inside a bag of skittles there is so much colour, every house is pastel, every inch graffiti clad.

Everyone is a filmmaker, architect, artist, photographers. Fashion wise, think Greenpeace campaigner come junkie.

It has that desolate sadness of all seaside towns out of season, which indeed it is in July (winter). It’s chilly in Chile. Packs of wolf dogs roam the streets like coyotes. Yet it’s full of chic sushi bars, artist’s workshops, hippy cafes. The place is a head f*ck.

Either way, I am grateful to Valparaiso for introducing me to La Sebastina, filled with a lifetime of beautifully eclectic things from Chilean poet and noble prize winner, Pablo Neruda.  I am a huuuge fan.

“In which language does rain fall
over tormented cities?” (From the book of Questions.)

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An.an.tas.in : The Anantasin is the name of a shipwreck just of the coast of the Sensi Parasise, Mae Haad Bay, Koh Tao, Thailand. It’s one of my many favorite places.

Lit.tle: Just because it’s cute.

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