What a strange small world it is... a couple North Americans eating eggs and toast in Chile, coffee from Central America... and a cap came from Beijing. (thanks, Brian!).
The little things one learns, sometimes the hard way. Informal cafes have three condiment squeeze bottles on the table – red, yellow, and green. The yellow is mustard. A plate of french fries made the ultimate sacrifice to prove that the red one is NOT ketchup. The green one is ketchup – the red one is a scorching hot sauce.The toast is actually a kind of flattened hamburger bun. And the cone is made up of napkins and is filled with - napkins... seemed to be common in Santiago.
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January is mid-summer in Santiago... sunny and hot. Towering over the city, Cerro San Christobal, wooded and cool, is a classic Sunday retreat for Santaguinos. A funincular climbs to a zoo, then continues higher to viewpoints and trailheads. On the crown of the mountain, a huge statue of Mother Mary blesses the city with open arms. A cable car carries passengers across to a second peak, and trails for hiker and bikers crisscross the heavily wooded slopes.
At the base of the funicular, a carnival-like atmosphere greets visitors. Gardens, food, souvenirs, children's rides – Sunday in the park!
Another “small world” detail... the Idiots were surprised to see a poncho for sale emblazoned with the classic “Man in the Maze” symbol of the Tohono o'Odham Indian nation of southern Arizona – the symbol of Iʼitoi, the good-spirited creator god who resides in a cave below the peak of Baboquivari Mountain.
Idiot She is not a great fan of funiculars and cable cars and the like – but she is a good sport!
At the top, vistas of this city of six million stretch out in all directions.
In for a penny... if She could handle the funicular, She could certainly do the cable car as well!
After a couple hours in the park it was time to head down the mountain to find lunch. Another bad Idiot He selfie with iced coffee on a hot day... a shared platter of mixed seafood tempura... and a stunning dessert of handmade mango ice cream with jellied fruit, calafate compote, and an odd little flan inspired by a classic Chilean holiday punch called Cola de Mono. The before and after pictures tell the tale – there was not much elapsed time between the two photos!
Refreshed, the Idiots wandered the streets of Barrio Bellevista to La Chascona – the Santiago home of Pablo Neruda.
Neruda was one of those bigger-than-life artists. Born in 1904, he was active in politics for 50 years. He was an advocate for the common people and a Communist long before it became fashionable for intellectuals to be Communists. He served as a diplomat and senator in the 1920s – 40s, only to be stripped of all his privileges in 1948 when the Communist party was outlawed.
Today Neruda is most remembered for his poetry – particularly for his love poems. He did not have “leading man” looks... he was roundish and balding... but his eyes and his intensity and poetic nature made women love him and lust after him. In return, he loved women and he loved the creative life. La Chascona is quirky... it spread and grew up the hillside, various buildings connected by walkways and bridges.
Neruda's dream to see a socialist become president of Chile was finally fulfilled in 1970 with the election of Salvador Allende. The United States engineered a coup in 1973 that included the assassination of Allende. Neruda died a few weeks later – some say of a broken heart. The official cause of death was complications from prostate cancer - but rumors persist that he was murdered to prevent him from becoming a potent voice in exile of opposition to the Pinochet dictatorship. In 2013 his body was exhumed and samples strongly suggest the official cause of death was a fiction.
The military junta tried to erase Neruda's name and legacy. La Chascona was looted and left to the elements. But the common people refused to forget the poet who spoke for them... the poet who brought worldwide attention to the plight of working class people around the world and who brought honor to Chile with the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1970. La Chascona has been restored and serves as a museum and a tribute to Chile's favorite son.
Two poems by Pablo Neruda
IF YOU FORGET ME (excerpt)
I want you to know
one thing.
You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
...
If every day goes up
a flower to your lips
to look for me,
Oh my love, oh my,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love is nourished by your love, beloved,
and as long as you live,
it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.
TONIGHT I CAN WRITE THE SADDEST LINES
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
Write, for example, ‘The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.’
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
Through nights like this one I held her in my arms
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.
She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.
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Barrio Bellevista is the artistic heart of Santiago and street art greets visitors around every corner – a lovely place to wander on a Sunday afternoon.
One of life's little mysteries. The door to their little working-class apartment has an odd little opening with stained glass. The Idiots have no idea what it might symbolize – but watching the biographical film of Neruda at La Chascona they noticed a door in one of his homes with the same pattern. They have tried to research the origins of this design element – and come up empty-handed. Perhaps someone reading these musings will have an answer.
