Valparaiso - Go to Paradise
So some juggler/clowns that we met in Santiago on Sunday told us about a place we could stay in Valparaiso and wrote down a series of words that we assumed was some kind of address, and a phone number that we were told to call at the bus station so he (Pollo) could come and escort us there. We had been planning on visiting this particular town anyway, but the free place to stay in circus-friendly surroundings, was a strong enough lure to pull us away even from the charm and sophistication of Hotel Saturno. We took the 1.5 hour bus ride, and upon arrival, promptly proceeded to the nearest pay phone to make the call. In the 60 seconds that our 100 peso coin bought us, we learned that Pollo left his cell phone in Santiago. Luckily, the series of words turned out to be street names. Directions! We followed them to the end, but were left without an address. As soon as the question of how to decide which house was uttered, we saw, spray-painted graffiti-style on a large, metal gate,¨Taller el Litre¨, the last and most mysterious set of words in the list. We´d found it, but before I describe what we found... I´d like to describe the city of Valparaiso a bit.
The city starts on the back side of the mountains, and seems to tumble over the top, down the other side and right into the sea. The mountains are steep, but that hasn´t stopped anyone from slapping some stilts to the bottom of a house and hanging it off a cliff. From a distance, it looks more like a huge pile of colorful, makeshift homes stacked carelessly upon each other, craning for a view of the sea. Once you start exploring the streets, you quickly realize that its not too far from the truth. The mountains are so steep in many places throughout the city, that they use large, gondola-like contraptions to get people to the top. They´re basically small boxes attached to train tracks that run up the side of a cliff. But if you, like I, are more inclined (teehee) to tackle such an exploration by foot, I highly recommend finding one of the hundreds of Escher-esque stairways that snake their way throughout the labyrinth of homes that people have built and rebuilt over years and years. Every new ascent is a new view, every turned corner a peek into the way someone else lives their life.
The city does flatten out as it approaches the water though. And the architecture changes from the ramshackle, found-objects style, to a hodge-podge of 19th century architecture brought over from the variety of Europeans that settled here during that time. But the real life of the city is not in the buildings, but on the sidewalks. Most of the major streets are lined on both sides by vendors selling anything and everything you can imagine. Clothing to hardware to fishing lures to shoe strings. All new or used. And food. Lots of food. The food is all new. I don´t see anybody getting rich, but they make it to the next day, and the day after that, and more often than not, they do it with a smile on their face. The whole city has the feeling of a neighborhood, though its really a large collection of them. Which brings me to my neighborhood.
We entered the large metal gate and were instantly overwhelmed by the collection of stuff. It is an outdoor space, with scrap metal, and old bicycles and circus props everywhere, though it was difficult to process the details right away, because there was so much of it. Pollo was sitting around a table with 5 or 6 other guys and, after the confusion was cleared up about who these strange looking gringos with backpacks were, we were warmly received and everyone went about clearing some space for us. First a place for our tents, and then a large juggling area. There wasn´t much room, and I wondered where all of these people slept, but my question was soon answered as our focus was soon directed to the large house that was practically hanging over us. If it was on the same level we were on it would probably be about 20 feet away from where we were standing, but as it was, it was about 60 feet up, atop the cliff that the ¨garage¨ we were in backed up against. Willy, the guy who runs the joint, shares the house with what seems to be his whole family, except the brother that lives across the street. And a forever cycling group of circus performers share the space below, which Willy also works out of during the day. He´s a freelance welder, and a good one, and when he´s not making a buck, he´s making circus props. The space has an outdoor kitchen, a working bathroom, and a large van that´s been converted to a sleeping area. People from the neighborhood are always stopping by to hang out or borrow a bicycle or something and we´ve been welcomed by one and all.
I want to go more into detail about some of these characters that we´ve met, but I´m tired of looking at this computer screen. I´m not sure how much longer we´re be here though, so I may get in another post before we split. There´s a circus show this weekend at an occupied house that is shared by a bunch of jugglers this weekend. I call it an occupied house, but I swear the building is like a city block. It´s the largest squat I´ve ever seen. So we´ll probably stay for that and keep working the stoplights here (as they are quite good and profitable) and then... away. Or not. Lebn has talked of buying property, but he talks about that almost everywhere.
The city starts on the back side of the mountains, and seems to tumble over the top, down the other side and right into the sea. The mountains are steep, but that hasn´t stopped anyone from slapping some stilts to the bottom of a house and hanging it off a cliff. From a distance, it looks more like a huge pile of colorful, makeshift homes stacked carelessly upon each other, craning for a view of the sea. Once you start exploring the streets, you quickly realize that its not too far from the truth. The mountains are so steep in many places throughout the city, that they use large, gondola-like contraptions to get people to the top. They´re basically small boxes attached to train tracks that run up the side of a cliff. But if you, like I, are more inclined (teehee) to tackle such an exploration by foot, I highly recommend finding one of the hundreds of Escher-esque stairways that snake their way throughout the labyrinth of homes that people have built and rebuilt over years and years. Every new ascent is a new view, every turned corner a peek into the way someone else lives their life.
The city does flatten out as it approaches the water though. And the architecture changes from the ramshackle, found-objects style, to a hodge-podge of 19th century architecture brought over from the variety of Europeans that settled here during that time. But the real life of the city is not in the buildings, but on the sidewalks. Most of the major streets are lined on both sides by vendors selling anything and everything you can imagine. Clothing to hardware to fishing lures to shoe strings. All new or used. And food. Lots of food. The food is all new. I don´t see anybody getting rich, but they make it to the next day, and the day after that, and more often than not, they do it with a smile on their face. The whole city has the feeling of a neighborhood, though its really a large collection of them. Which brings me to my neighborhood.
We entered the large metal gate and were instantly overwhelmed by the collection of stuff. It is an outdoor space, with scrap metal, and old bicycles and circus props everywhere, though it was difficult to process the details right away, because there was so much of it. Pollo was sitting around a table with 5 or 6 other guys and, after the confusion was cleared up about who these strange looking gringos with backpacks were, we were warmly received and everyone went about clearing some space for us. First a place for our tents, and then a large juggling area. There wasn´t much room, and I wondered where all of these people slept, but my question was soon answered as our focus was soon directed to the large house that was practically hanging over us. If it was on the same level we were on it would probably be about 20 feet away from where we were standing, but as it was, it was about 60 feet up, atop the cliff that the ¨garage¨ we were in backed up against. Willy, the guy who runs the joint, shares the house with what seems to be his whole family, except the brother that lives across the street. And a forever cycling group of circus performers share the space below, which Willy also works out of during the day. He´s a freelance welder, and a good one, and when he´s not making a buck, he´s making circus props. The space has an outdoor kitchen, a working bathroom, and a large van that´s been converted to a sleeping area. People from the neighborhood are always stopping by to hang out or borrow a bicycle or something and we´ve been welcomed by one and all.
I want to go more into detail about some of these characters that we´ve met, but I´m tired of looking at this computer screen. I´m not sure how much longer we´re be here though, so I may get in another post before we split. There´s a circus show this weekend at an occupied house that is shared by a bunch of jugglers this weekend. I call it an occupied house, but I swear the building is like a city block. It´s the largest squat I´ve ever seen. So we´ll probably stay for that and keep working the stoplights here (as they are quite good and profitable) and then... away. Or not. Lebn has talked of buying property, but he talks about that almost everywhere.
posted by Zackataca at 4:17 PM
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