We’d stayed in Valparaiso long enough to see the city shed itself of those clouds from the first day, and departed early on the 18th to catch the northbound bus. I left with a lingering feeling that I hadn’t truly experienced the Valpo magic that had incited so many of those we’d met to make the city their home, at least for a little while.
Apparently, the night life is intense in these parts and, from the borderline anarchy we encountered below and around the cerros, I can believe it. But I needed to get some work done, and we had a mission up north, so we departed while I resolved to give the place another try next time around.
The bus, this time, was a double-decker behemoth and we got seats with a good view of the landscape on the second floor, which was slowly transforming into desert.
Our next stop was La Serena, about 500 clicks north of Santiago. This county is thin (a max of about 180km wide) but there’s still plenty of room, as it stretches over 4000km from the most arid desert in the world at the top, through Mediterranean landcapes to the land of icebergs and penguins at the bottom, with the Andes acting as a backdrop the whole way.
I managed to catch a few eyefuls on the road, as I worked while the bus bounced and beeped up the coast. After about 5 hours we arrived a Coquimbo, another port city with that same port city feel. La Serena was just a jump away, and we disembarked to the smell of ocean and the cool breeze of evening in these parts.
The closest thing to the terminal is a big Mall. We stopped to refuel and get our bearings, having a completo and another look in our trusty guide book. I’d read about a hostel, near the bus terminal, and had stumbled upon a pamphlet for the same place at la Casa Roja: Casa Maria. It seemed promising, but we hadn’t actually made any reservations.
This is when we finally figured out how cell phones work in Chile. Basically, they all share a distinct area code and dialing convention, and are treated as (semi) long distance calls. The conversation L was having with Casa Maria was cut off twice before we realized we needed to keep pumping coins into the public phone.
There was room at Casa Maria and they were ready to come and get us at the Mall. Instead, we found our way (one block west, two blocks north) and entered what looked like someones living room. Andres, the person L had spoken with, greeted us like old friends and presented his companions, which included his mother (for whom the Casa Maria is named).
He brought us through the living room and kitchen, to an inner courtyard in the back which gave on an alley of what looked like miniature houses and a magnificent garden. Our room, on the eastern corner, was small but cosey, and had two windows looking into the courtyard, one straight into the garden. This would be very comfortable, and was really inexpensive to boot!
Understandably, most places require a bit of passport checking/paperwork and payment on arrival, but Andres was uber cool: “no, no, unpack, relax, you can pay when you leave”. It was a relief, such a chilled attitude after the intensity of the previous days.
We unpacked and headed out to get a preview of our new home. It was getting late, and the city was quiet, but we managed to find a place that would serve up a warm meal. Milan pub, an odd mix of restaurant at the front and pub at the back, complete with wall-sized music videos and clapping patrons, prepared a few Chilean classics for us. Soup with lotsa meat, followed by rice with lotsa meat, all of it best eaten with a salsa-like concoction of tomatoes and spicy spices that I love but never managed to get the name of. It was just what we needed before getting a bit of rest.
Mornings are cloudy and cool in La Serena, but the sun quickly dissipates the gloom and the weather is perfect: hot in the sun, cool in the shade, and a constant sea breeze makes the air feel clean and rejuvenating.
Though I had to work, I got to do it from a wi-fi equipped garden paradise and it was a pleasure. I’d discovered I had unfortunately left some clothes, including a prized shirt, in Valparaiso—sad but it gave me an excuse to take some time off for a little shopping. It may not show, but I’m picky about what I wear and the local stores were a bit too colourful for my tastes. I finally settled on a few band t-shirts that would do nicely in a pinch.
By then it was Friday night, and el centro was alive with the sounds of spanish crooners and the boisterous young lingerers. Sporting my new Napalm Death T, we walked the center to relax and take in the nightlife and stumbled upon Duna. Officially a “classic rock bar”, I was glad to be wearing my new t-shirt as it was a perfect fit with the crowd and music.
The patio, another instance of an inner yard which are so prevalent here, was packed but the atmosphere was easy going. As we scanned for a place to sit, L asked if we could join a table on the corner and struck up a conversation with the girls seated there. I had some trouble following the chat in the noise, but they were both very nice.
It was easy-going in La Serena. I mainly alternated between work and tours of the center, with it’s shops, half-pedestrian streets (because the sidewalks and streets are at the same level, and only distinguished by odd little bumps, I had a tendency to wander into the car lane), churches of all types and open air markets.
We played in this city’s version of Plaza des Armas, a park lined with replicas of classical statues, a few times and on Sunday, though our trusty hostel guides highly recommended the “4 corners” beach only a quick bus ride away, we chose to explore on foot, crossed the full length of the Plaza/park and headed west towards the sea.
Along the way, we stopped at Casa&Idea where L found a very nice—and in my opinion slightly large, for the pattiperros lifestyle we had—pillow for her little swaddler. That happy milk-carton shaped cushion would become a regular companion from this point on, and be infused with mom-love like the little Valparaiso cat, before its eventual delivery.
We walked, further than expected, towards the coast in the afternoon sun and the breeze was just enough to keep the temperature bearable. Hoping to quickly see some beach, we searched for collectivos, but the few we saw were headed back into town.
We barely saw anyone at all, as we marched down the palm tree-lined, sandy path and this beautiful residential area seemed deserted. El Faro, the lighthouse namesake of this particular beach, could be seen in the distance at the end of the path. We were finally going to get some Pacific action!
The beach, like the streets leading up to it, was almost deserted. A few artisans selling wares, a young boy offering horse rides, two people reading, a family in the distance. We walked a good distance from the lighthouse, to be completely alone. The sea was ours.
Because this little field trip was improvised, and though we’d carried our swimsuits for hundreds of kilometers, neither of us was equipped for swimming. Fuck it, people were swimming before the invention of bathing suits, after all. Heh.
L, who’s underwear was just a tad too revealing, stopped at a little market and purchased a beautiful silky scarf and tied it around her waist. Perfect. I was wearing my brand new, La Serena-purchased, replacement boxers and they were adorned with go-fast stripes… almost perfect. We stripped and I ran into the cold waters. L took her sweet time getting in, which is something I find much more difficult than a single slap of cold. To each his own… once we were both in, it was a blast!
I don’t know how long we played, at times fighting the waves and at others doing my best to bodysurf. It was fantastic, I love the sea, it’s beauty and power. And L is always at her most beautiful when happy, and I could tell she was happy amongst the waves. So was I and, though I’d omitted to use an appropriate layer of sunscreen, I couldn’t resist the water and the sun, and ended turning a nice shade of red.
When Monday arrived, we’d stayed in comfortable La Serena longer than expected, had only a week left until our return and had still not made contact with L’s father. We had to choose whether we were going to risk another 19 hours of travel up the coast, to what we found was going to be a very small town on the edge of nothing, for a slim chance that he’d actually still be there. It was a decision I couldn’t make, and I did my best to show that I’d be equally willing to go either farther north or back down south: up would be a new adventure, down would be guaranteed fun.
Despite having carried a backpack, boots, photos and herself this far to see her father, L finally decided it would be wiser to abandon the quest this time, and instead return in the near future along with her daughter, who was getting old enough for the trip.
We spent a bit of the afternoon doing some gift shopping for friends and family, at the artisan’s market near the center, got some work done and prepared for the bus ride back to Santiago.