10 Reasons Why I Will Probably Never Leave Valparaiso

The city is great, folks. I encourage everyone in my life, anyone I've ever met, all friends current and old and not-yet-known, to come visit me. And potentially move in with me. And join me for a vegetarian asado. Here are some reasons why this might just be the ex-pat haven I've been craving my entire life:

1. There are Ashtanga Yoga classes. Back in 2011, I started a state-wide search for Ashtanga Yoga classes in Ohio. The nearest option was somewhere in Cincinnati, a breezy 5-hour commute one-way. No thanks. I was appalled, as well, that the liberal oasis of Oberlin didn't even have any options. I was even willing to commute to Cleveland once weekly just for a chance to be instructed in the rigorous ways of the Primary Series, exorbitant gas prices and all. No dice. Here in Valparaiso, I walk out of my cerro and ten minutes into the center and there is a wafish, taut man with exceedingly short shorts and a yogi beard waiting for me with Om's, chants, and a precise knowledge of the Primary Series. SCORE.

2. Vegetables are cheap. And every Wednesday and Saturday, there is an enormous farmer's market on the other side of town that sells veggies by the kilo for ridiculously cheap prices. Furthermore, there's a man in a turban outside the supermarket on my side of town that sells whole-grain bread and soy burgers. We frequently lock eyes and I give him a silent nod of appreciation. Not to mention the variety of other alternative characters selling soy-based products on the street whenever I walk anywhere. SCORE.

3. This view.

PINK-HUED SCORE.

4. I do not need a car. Public transportation is good here - buses, taxis, etc - and walking distances to wherever I want to go are manageable on foot as well. It's a biggish city, but it doesn't feel like it. 15 minutes walking and you can get just about anywhere within the city center. (Some people roll around on bikes but let's be real, apart from the 3-second downhill thrill of any ones of the cerro roads, that's just crazy talk.) ECO SCORE.

5. There is a surplus of quaint, locally-owned coffee shops. This provides a revolving door of opportunities for me to escape from my daily life, hole up in a new (or frequently-visited) locale, sip super-strong coffee and immerse myself into writing projects. JITTERY SCORE.

6. The hilliness of the cerros is a natural work out. A recent Chilean acquaintance commented that the streets of the cerros in Valpo are so steep that by the end of your route you're clawing your way up on all fours. This is pretty close to the truth. A natural byproduct of the terrain, however, is impeccable glutes. And damn fine hamstrings. MUSCULAR SCORE.

7. I am a $5 bus ride from Santiago. The capital of Chile sits about an hour and a half to the east -- getting to and from the airport is cake, and daytrips to Santiago are easy and cheap (unless I spend a crapton of pesos on new clothes I don't technically need).....TRANSPORTATION SCORE.

8. Valparaiso attracts weirdos. I mean this in the best way possible. I consider myself among the weirdo ranks here, and I delight in all the colorful, oddly-shaved, sometimes-studded-and-leathered individuals I find wandering the streets here. There's musicians, writers, poets, artists, students, sailors, businessmen, families, tourists, and more. Plus the punk scene is alive and well, which isn't something I originally thought I'd care about, but whenever I see the punks roaming the streets it's secretly thrilling, like a middle schooler wandering the halls of the high school and catching sight of all the cool seniors. Except these seniors have really pointy blue mohawks, clomp around in huge boots and maybe didn't finish school or possibly participate in the underground anarchy network. DOUBLE SCORE WITH SPRINKLES ON TOP AND A SEPTUM PIERCING.

9. There's a lot of opportunities for entrepreneurs and bilingual people. On top of that, Chile has one of the best economies of South America. It's growing, and fast. This is a great place to be an entrepreneur, and Chile attracts a lot of people looking to invest in ecological, engineering and architectural projects all over the country. The Puerto Varas area was huge for that type of entrepreneurial migration. Though I'm not looking to start wind farms or invest in the salmon industry, there's a certain sense here that "if you want to start it, you can do it". Something like the American Dream drifting south, new laws and regulations are being implemented that both support and foster new ideas in the business world, making upstarts and new businesses way easier to create than ever before. Furthermore, with the amount of ex-pats starting and operating businesses all over the country (and indeed, in many other areas of Latin America), it keeps my eventual coffeeshop/cafe flame going strong. This would be the place to try it, too. MEGA OPPORTUNITY AND POTENTIALLY LUCRATIVE SCORE.

10. I feel freakin' good here. There's really no explanation behind it except I feel at home here, and called to here, in a way that I haven't experienced before in other cities and places. That could change - maybe in three months, or maybe in 30 years - but regardless, I'm going to attempt to make it here as long as I can/want/am financially able to/it makes sense. For now, all I can really do is follow that which feels right and natural. And that is to continue on here in the lovely Valpo. Something awaits me here...or maybe I've already gone and found it.

Between Here and There

Argentina and Chile are close neighbors: in the time it would take for me to travel by car between Sandusky and Cincinnati, I had moved from one country to another. Being such close neighbors I had assumed there would be small differences but not many.  I also had assumed that, generally speaking, they would be friends. I was wrong on both accounts.

If my childhood, elementary school experiences and general politics of the world have been any indicators at all, I would have realized that those living in close proximity are usually the fiercest of enemies. Maybe enemies is a strong word here, but it's safe to say that there exists a certain tension between Argentines and Chileans. As a matter of public opinion, both Chileans and Argentines have choice words regarding the other. Most of the things they say are the same on both ends. Both claim to have invented the asado and perfected it. Both regard themselves as slightly if not indisputably superior. I'm speaking in general terms here, the overarching stereotype of public opinion, and don't mean to proclaim any of these things as facts or even my own opinion. However, it exists, just as unsavory opinions and undercurrents run rampant in the U.S. and every other country of the world. I've met as many Chileans who talk down on Argentines as Chileans who don't give a crap and have tons of Argentine friends

Argentina, however, has a different feel. Like the Portokalos family house in My Big Fat Greek Wedding serving as a painfully obvious physical tribute to Greece, Argentina almost feels like the beacon of Europe within a continent dominated by energies more associated with "typical Latin America". The people have lighter skin, are taller, trendier. The order and energy of the city here remind me more of Italy and Spain. Distance between countries may not be great down here, but the differences in culture, language and customs can be as different as if they were on opposite ends of the world. Chile's neighbors alone are the perfect example: third-world Latin America to the north with Peru and Bolivia; trendy, upscale Argentina to the east; and then Chile itself, a blend of Latin America and Europe with a booming economy and first-world standards of living.

Some Notes about Argentina:

• They chill their red wine. I'm not kidding. Isn't this the biggest no-no of wine connoisseurs everywhere? I had thought so, until I met Argentinians who put ice cubes in their red wine. And then I came to WINE COUNTRY in Argentina and am finding both regular and chilled red wine. My palate is appalled, but being the open-minded gal I am, I shall continue the wine-tasting until I acclimate.

What you can't see in this picture is that 

THE WINE IS CHILLED.

• The Spanish is more musical. Being that this was a haven for Italian immigrants at some point in the past, the Argentinian accent is as melodic and enchanting as Italian. Get a group of Argentinians together and sit back and enjoy. 
• Argentinian Spanish has its own set of frustrating peculiarities. "Si po" is replaced by "Si che"; "Weon" gives way to "voludo". The most confounding part? Argentinians utilize the vosotros verb tense. Anyone from Perkins High School's Spanish Club will recall that we specifically did not learn that part of speech because "it doesn't get used that much anymore".  Sigh. Luckily I know enough Spanish to know what I'm being asked/told/shouted/repeated for the fifth time. 
• Purchasing one, tiny item in a store does not require four different employees and four unnamed, unadvertised steps. Chile is famous for the Check-Out Hassle; most common stores (apart from the big name chain stores) utilize the four-step checkout, which entails the following: one employee to select your item from the wall of available items, another employee to hand you your 'check-out ticket' which you then take to the caja (register) where another employee will handle your money, who then gives you another receipt to take to a final counter where a fourth employee will re-find your items, package them, and hand them to you. The pattern of steps and shuffles this creates across the floor of the store would look like a drunk hectagon. Phew. Learning this was irritating and confusing, to say the least. Argentina's system is less bureaucratic - I can just wak into a store and buy what I want from one employee -  but then again, less checks and balances might be the reason why their economy is suffering at the moment. Who knows. 
• Argentinians are physically unable to consume a meal without bread. Also, there exists a vaguely unhealthy obsession with mayonnaise. 

Plaza de Independencia at dusk.

This has nothing to do with bread or mayonnaise.

Editor's Note: For as long as I can remember, there have been discussions, disputes and full-on linguist wars about which term is more appropriate: Argentine or Argentinian. Do I have any idea which is technically correct? No. Have I used both terms wantonly and interchangeably throughout this post? Yes. For those who would like to opine, feel free to chime in. 

A Step-by-Step Guide to Border Runs

There comes a time during every ex-pat's trip when the "maximum date" allowed on the visa approaches scarily close to the actual date staring back at you on the calendar. If you've already approached the Foreigner's Department and paid $100 for a 90-day extension, have no plans to leave, in fact have already signed a contract for an apartment in an uber-cool part of an even uber-er-cool city, what do you do?

Border Run.

Listen, it sounds shady and illegal and maybe it is in a 100% upstanding-law-abiding-citizen-of-the-world sort of way. But I'm not the only one who relies heavily on this legal loophole. The governments know that extranjeros (foreigners) frequently leave a country for a matter of days or weeks only to return to wherever it was they were staying just to get that extra 90 days. It can be done indefinitely, I suppose, until Immigration starts asking questions. Luckily, it can take years for that to happen. I don't plan to raise any eyebrows down here, so once it gets suspicious I'll apply for a different type of visa. Eventually. 

This isn't my first foray with the Border Run. My first experience was Guatemala-Belize when I had my internship with Cafe Yax-ha back in 2008. My friend Annie and I spent a glorious weekend among Mayan Ruins basking in the sun and the strange English of Belize, eating shrimp tacos and sleeping in hammocks outdoors. The Border Run is oftentimes a forced vacation. The level of enjoyment is determined by your attitude and your bank account. Luckily for me, the former is usually pretty good and the second one, well, I'll make do. 

Step One: Buy a ticket to the nearest foreign destination. In this case, it's Mendoza, Argentina, right in the middle of wine country.  It's only a 6 or 7 (or 8...or 9?) hour bus ride. The only option they had was the overnight bus. Onward to wine country!

Step Two: Pack very little. Unless your Border Run is a multi-week adventure, this is a chance to experience lightweight travel. Which, for me, is a rarity akin to arriving anywhere at the time I said I'd be there, or spotting Bigfoot. I came to Mendoza with a backpack - a regular school backpack, mind you - and my purse. Here are some of the things I left behind: my towel, my yoga mat (EGADS!), all shoes except the ones on my feet, all pants except the ones on my legs, and the variety of clothing that normally accompanies me and fills up the backpack and ipso facto weighs me down. INCREDIBLE. Editor's Note: I did bring underwear. 

Step Three: Go through Customs and Immigrations without any eyebrows being raised or questions asked. If you take the night bus, this will occur precisely at 4am, right during the deepest part of your profoundly-uncomfortable semi-cama bus ride. The night air will feel like Ohio on one of the coldest nights you can remember and you will wait in line for an hour. You will repeatedly thank the heavens that you brought your winter parka and eventually consume the walnuts you had reserved for food for the next day. However, you will successfully smuggle in the apple you really wanted to eat for breakfast because nobody on the Argentinian side actually checked anyone's luggage, leading you to formulate an extensive list of all the things you could have smuggled in but didn't. 

Step Four: Witness the sunrise on your winding Andean bus trip that all the other passengers the next day said was nauseating and terrifying but surprisingly was the best sleep of your life...despite the profoundly-uncomfortable semi-cama seat.

HEY, NICE COLORS MOTHER NATURE.

THOSE ANDES AREN'T TOO BAD EITHER.

(Note: Andes Mountains not pictured here.)

Step Five: Arrive to said destination at 8am, buy your return ticket for either the next day or the day after, and wander the city. Locate pink-water-spurting fountain. Drink a coffee and do some work long-distance.

At 8:30am, this was a treat.

The city was still waking up and I was able to have

a quiet, solo walk around the center.

Step Six: Meander aimlessly, revel in the hot sun and the new sights and the distinct European feel of the streets despite the fact that Argentina is so close to Chile. Eavesdrop on grisly old Argentinian men discussing business. Locate a yoga studio. Converse with hostelmates once you make it over there. 

Step Seven: Remember why you reserved the hostel (money! It's so cheap! How could you NOT?) and remind yourself of this strongly when you find your bed.

Mine is the middle bed of the three-tiered bunk system.

Step Eight: Repeat steps 6 and 7 as necessary until the departure date. Make sure the wine tour falls in there somewhere as well.

I think this is a fairly comprehensive border run guide. I will update as necessary if I discover any missing crucial bits to the Border Run Guide. For now, though, I hope this can aid some of you as you seek to cross borders, renew visas, and otherwise enjoy life on the fringe. 

Introducing: Valparaiso, Chile

Every person I talked to about Valparaiso prior to my trip north told me the same thing: "You...are going...to LOVE IT."

When multiple people echo the same sentiment from a variety of sources (from total strangers to trusted friends), it's hard to ignore it. Furthermore, people that know me down here tended to add, in a lower voice with a meaningful look, "Shannon, you will fall in love. It's the perfect city to live in and be a writer."

Okay, I thought. Fine. Let's do it. Give it a go. I decided to combine my Birthday Easter Island trip with an exploratory mission to Valparaiso, stay there for a week and see what happens. I went prepared to hate it, but also prepared to love it. Really, I was open to whatever. I had a loose plan to move to Valparaiso post-Puerto Varas (god knows I'm not sticking around for the frigid winter down here), so I was hoping I'd fall in love like everyone was certain I would, but I was also prepared to come up with a plan B on the fly if I went and found out it was a miserable, disgusting, awful, dirty city that just didn't have the charm everyone else saw.

So I went. I found Amanda in Santiago after Easter Island, we took a day bus to Valpo, and began our explorations.

The street art in Valparaiso is incredible, completely unique,

astounding, breathtaking, and poignant. Not to mention really freaking cool.

The first thing I noticed about Valpo was twofold: the sea air, and the amount of people. We had arrived to a big city, with buses, people filling the sidewalks, tall buildings, and that unmistakable energy of a port city. 

Valparaiso is dangerous, huh? I guess we'll wear our thug faces to ward off attacks.

Valparaiso is centered around the sea-level pleno, where most of the government buildings, banks, big commerce and the port are found. Then sprawling up and around that center, away from the sea, are the 42 cerros (hills) that give Valpo that sparkling, multi-colored, extremely vertical backdrop. Based on my world travels, I would best describe the city as a Guanajuato, Mexico -style Vertical Venice. Add in a healthy dose of collaborative art that covers almost 90% of the city, a bustling port that lends a certain grit and open-sea worldliness, and you have Valparaiso. 

The street art serves a purpose. It's not just for shock and awe,

it's to prevent the taggers from defacing the buildings.

People hire artists to cover their outer walls in order to

avoid that messy, sporadic tagging common to big cities.

What Valparaiso accomplishes, perhaps without intending to, is a small-town feel within a relatively big city. Valpo isn't the biggest in the country - it's about the 6th biggest city, and Valpo proper has around 300,000 residents - but it's big enough to have veganism options, while still retaining an easy-to-understand city layout. By day four there I felt I had a grasp on where I was going. At the close of week one, I was directing others how to get around. That doesn't include the cerros, necessarily - those, in fact, can be quite confusing and irritating to navigate, especially once you get off the beaten track and decide to "try out the staircase" in a particular area. Chances are you'll end up several streets over from where you intended, and Amanda and I found an actual vertical street on our trek to Pablo Neruda's house one day. I'm not sure how cars kept all four wheels on the ground. Driving in Valpo is not something I'll be trying. Ever. 

Valpo girl? Almost.

As soon as I got to Valparaiso and realized that I would, in fact, love to stay there, live there, and perhaps base a writing career there, I set to work looking at apartments. I ended up finding a majority of the leads from signs posted around the touristy cerros. Valparaiso is a university city as well, so there is a constant flow of transients, both Chilean and foreign, coming to stay for weeks or semesters or years. There is a huge renter culture in Valpo, and it became quickly apparent that me finding a place to live for any amount of time would be no problem. All that remained was finding the right place to live. 

Calle Ecuador - the nightlife hotspot.

With over 20 bars to choose from, this street is

hopping pretty much every night. And the drink specials never end.

Being an American from a relatively small town, I am highly acclimatized to privacy, ample living quarters, and quiet. The Chilean style, however, is quite different. It seems most families will rent out rooms in their house to students or transients, welcoming the flow of new faces and energy without a second thought. I'm not sure if the primary motive is extra income, the feel of a full house, or both, but I definitely have found that most Chileans prefer to live with others, even complete strangers, as opposed to living alone. I quickly shed my original idea of "finding an apartment to myself". Maybe someday, when I can afford to buy out a whole house to myself, but for now, shared living it is. I checked out four places before I found the one that, after 20 seconds, I said, "LA QUIERO" (I want it). 

My new bedroom, complete with two windows, a desk, a bookcase, and a closet.

Not to mention a sweet view of sprawling, sparkling Valparaiso.

I EVEN HAVE A DOOR! A step up from Puerto Varas, for sure.

Being that I'm a 2__ year old lady, I've reached a point in my life where I feel confident in demanding a certain something from my living situation. No longer can I cram myself and my belongings into an unforgivingly small cube of a dorm room (unless it's a hostel, and only for a few nights); no longer will I go for the cheapest option, conditions be damned (unless, again, it's a hostel, and only for a few nights, and I'm broke); and furthermore, I have NEEDS- space to lay my yoga mat, appropriate sun for meditation/contemplation, a desk for my laptop and work environment. My bedroom is my office essentially - for nonprofit work, for writing articles, for writing novels, for translating and copyediting - so having the room to breathe, think and work is crucial. I know this now because I haven't had it since I moved to Chile. And now, I'm demanding it.

Amanda makes herself comfortable on the couch in the shared living room.

Bad Chilean soap operas come included with the cost of rent.

Valparaiso is cool because it's a gritty, artsy port city, but other lifestyles are within easy reach on the same coastline. Just 10 minutes away from Valpo Center sits Vina del Mar, a newer, slightly classier city that caters more to tourism and family life. It features taller, bigger apartment complexes, better beaches, and fancier options...essentially the Small Suburban Brother of Valpo. In fact, that's where American tourists may be pleased (or dismayed) to find both Ruby Tuesday's and Starbucks. (I, for one, was thrilled to visit Starbucks. I never imagined I'd be so excited for drip coffee. When I get back to the States, I'll boycott it again I promise.)

On Renaca beach, just a bit beyond Vina del Mar.

A father and child in the evening sun on Renaca beach. 

Valparaiso used to be Chile's number one port city; it's still one of the most important seaports in Chile, but now the seaport of San Antonio takes the number one spot. The influence of the sea-faring life in Valpo is palpable; open-air seafood markets abound, the smell of fish and sticky salt hangs on the coastline, and amongst the hostels in the city center it's hard not to run into a sailor or two. In fact, on the last night in my first hostel, I recorded English phrases for a Chilean ship captain who was taking a test to obtain certification to sail internationally; one important aspect being able to announce things in English to both passengers and other ships. It was fun getting a look into the life of  sailor, including some of the terminology unique to ship captains. The guy was really friendly and took the time to explain why they say certain things, how the ship is laid out, etc. He's also traveled quite extensively around Chile and we talked (actually, gushed) for a long time about Easter Island. 

View from our walk toward the Pablo Neruda house/museum.

Looking up the ascensor Reina Victoria,

which passes right next to my NEW PATIO!

Another thing Valparaiso is famous for is the abundance of ascensores, the cable cars that lift you from one level of the city to another. It's helpful for avoiding the sometimes-vertical and always-rigorous climbs up the winding streets. I still wonder how the hell anyone managed to build a city on these hills. The houses are so jampacked and sprawling, it's a curious feat to think how many people per square mile are stuffed into the houses on the hillsides. I think this also lends to the small-town feel of the city: you don't have to go far to get from one end to the other, but there sure are a lot of bodies in between!

Wandering around Cerro Alegre, one of the best-known tourist areas.

I am thrilled to consider myself a resident of Valparaiso soon (even if the government of Chile might disagree with the term 'resident'). I plan to move by the end of the week, with all of my belongings in tow, and begin inhabiting my new space in Cerro Alegre. It's not hard to see why Pablo Neruda loved the city so much, nor why he used it so extensively as inspiration for his works and poetry. I plan to be extracting the same creative juices from the air and the sea. Let's hope the Valpo sights, smells and sounds can similarly infuse my words with that special, time-transcending, port-city magic.

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Check out The Best Travel Backpacks before your next trip! Especially if you're on your way to Chile, or want to swing by Easter Island, I always go with Lonely Planet: