Valparaiso

I think I finally know how to pronounce Valparaíso. I don't know if any of you noticed, maybe were just to kind to point out, that before I left I didn't even know how to say the name of the place that I was going to be living in for at least 2 1/2 months. I tried many combinations of consonants and vowels, sometimes adding some (Valaparaiso), sometimes omitting some (Valpariso). And since I've been here, I've been glad for the nickname "Valpo." However, last night, a fellow gringa broke it down for me. Val-para-iso. And then you throw it all together and try to roll your "r" a bit. Valparaíso.
Valparaíso --- with its port and poetry, with its discotecas and hippie bars, with its filth and its art, everywhere art, trash, graffiti, art--- has the charm of a musician, the slightly mysterious beauty of a gypsy, the grunge of a sailor, and the smooth voice like a sweet-talker. And I am falling for its flirtations. I can see why so many are in love.

I am not in love with the steep walk up Cerro Florida that brings me to my house. But I do love the views on the way up and the way all the colorful houses seem to cascade down the hills into the sea. And I'm amused at the streets that put manuel drivers in San Francisco to shame. I'm annoyed by the catcalls on the street and even the innocent need people have to point out (literally) that there are gringos walking by -- Chileans are not known for their
political correctness. But they are known to be friendly, and I love the way strangers will go out of their way to guide you somewhere instead of giving you hasty directions, how our Chilean brothers will accompany us to our destinations at night so we get there safely, how older women, regardless if you know them, will refer to you as mi hija, and how people gently correct your Spanish whether you're at home or downtown.

 

Faces in an alley, done by more
well-known graffiti artists

And I love, love, love all the art. Murals crawl down alleys and dance on store-fronts. Spray-painted faces ride the micros and tower above pedestrians at the port. "Official" and "unofficial" paintings share walls and mix in the street. Here are some of my favorite from an excursion my class took to the port.                

Acensor Artilleria painted during
the night

"I confess that I've drank"
painted on a church