I’d heard that Santiago’s smog was its one big drawback, but hadn’t spent any real time there. As we approached the airport, we were enveloped in haze, to a visibility of maybe 50 feet. “What is that?” I asked the taxista. “Esmog,” he assured me. “No puede ser!” I exclaimed. This was worse than every picture I’d ever seen of LA esmog. Turns out that it wasn’t smog, but smoke from a large fire near the airport, which filled the airport and forced all Arrivals into a holding pattern and eventually to Mendoza, Argentina. Looked like I wouldn’t get to see her smiling face for one more day at best, as the bus from Mendoza to Viña is a good eight hours. So I returned home, dejected and forlorn.
But lo and behold if Andrea didn’t arrive at my apartment that very afternoon, her taxista charmed completely out of his socks after an hour and a half spent in the taxi with her. So that night we celebrated!
The bartenders loved her too!
Typical Valparaíso neighborhood of bright colored homes hanging from the acensor-accessible cerros, overlooking the harbor of what was once one of the busiest ports in South America.
Valpo’s bustling harbor as seen from our brunchtime perch in the cerro. As we relaxed to mariscos, fine Chilean vino, and warm afternoon sun, every wine glass and table and lamp post and umbrella began shaking violently, all conversations ceased, and everyone in the restaurant held their breath for a good twenty seconds. “Un terremoto?” I asked our Chilean neighbors. “No,” they laughed. “If that had been a terremoto you wouldn’t be sitting here. It was a temblor.” A few more followed and the earth went back to sleep. We ordered some more wine if I recall correctly.
The shipping docks of Valparaíso.
Ships at port.
Valparaíso neighborhood. “¿Donde están? Jóvenes Socialistas”
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