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The many faces of Valparaiso

By Alison Lapshinoff The colourful houses of Valparaiso tumble haphazardly down the steep hillsides of the mad, Chilean port city, giving way to a multitude of container ships flanking a sparkling Pacific.

By Alison Lapshinoff

The colourful houses of Valparaiso tumble haphazardly down the steep hillsides of the mad, Chilean port city, giving way to a multitude of container ships flanking a sparkling Pacific. Here, one is liable to forget to keep a vigilant eye on their camera and belongings, for every twist and turn of the narrow cobblestone streets affords yet another panoramic vista of the vibrantly painted homes clinging precariously to the cliff sides. Beyond, adorned with navy ships and pleasure boats bobbing lazily in the arc of the bay, stretches an infinite, turquoise sea.

Essentially a city of contrasts, Valparaiso is at once captivating and abhorrent, chaotic in one moment, idyllic and peaceful the next. One must only ascend one of the endless narrow staircases that travel up the steep hillsides, their ascent often aided by a creaky and dramatically inclined funicular elevator, in order to escape the lunacy of the city’s compact, downtown core. A constant battle wages here, the choking pollution against the fresh ocean breezes of the Pacific. Majestic old buildings proudly command respect as they combat for space with tall new construction, seemingly oblivious to the clamor at the bases of their stately columns.

Petty crime is rife and poverty evident in the streets of Valparaiso, where shady characters lurk in winding alleyways, hobos beg and the homeless spill into the city’s sporadic plazas. Scarcely a tree or shrub survives among the old stone and concrete construction and pedestrians spill into the streets, the narrow sidewalks inadequate to support the walking population. There is a palpable vibe of chaos, as though the whole city was thrown up hastily with little or no planning, urban design merely a fleeting idea. Some fall in love; others run screaming for the relative serenity of the surrounding hills.

The Spaniards first sailed into this picturesque bay on the Santiaguillo in 1536, no doubt displacing the native population who had sustained themselves for centuries off the bounty of the sea and the fruits of the land. During colonial times, Valparaiso remained a small village, with only a few houses and a church, however, independence from Spain, realized on February 12 of 1818, brought with it a new era of prosperity. The doors were thrown open to international trade, which had been previously limited to Spain and its colonies. The port became Chile’s main naval harbour and an important supplier during California’s gold rush between 1848 and 1858. It was soon considered a mandatory stopover for ships crossing the narrow and treacherous Strait of Magellan or rounding the rollicking Cape Horn, the only routes of the day for crossing between the Atlantic and the Pacific Oceans.

During what was known as the Golden Age of Commerce, from 1848 to 1914, droves of immigrants from England, Germany, France, Switzerland and Italy landed here. Clusters of ethnic neighbourhoods blossomed, blanketing the hills with homes, many clinging unsteadily to the precipitous cliffs, nearly all boasting a captivating view. Each community built its own churches, schools and cultural institutions, and newspapers in a variety of European languages were put into circulation. This was a time of growth and prosperity for the booming new city of Valparaiso.

The opening of the Panama Canal in 1914 dealt a staggering blow to the port, causing its importance and usage to immediately decline. The long and treacherous sea voyage through the temperamental straits south of the continent had been reduced to a 77 kilometre sail through a tranquil canal, utilized by over 14,000 ships annually, that would have otherwise called at the port of Valparaiso.

In the second half of the 20th century, wealthy families began relocating to Santiago, the capital, 120 kilometres northeast, and to Vina Del Mar, a nearby beach community a mere 10-minute train ride away. Here, one is struck by an immediate impression of order and tranquility, a sense of wealth that doesn’t exist in Valparaiso. Among the quiet of the palm trees and wide, luxurious sidewalks of Vina Del Mar, one may relax their guard and perhaps even set their camera down as they take in the long sandy beach peppered with sun bathers, a precious few braving the chilly November waters of the South Pacific.

Despite the economic hardship imposed by the Panama Canal on Valparaiso, the port has staged a remarkable renaissance. As the new home of the House of Congress, the headquarters of the Chilean Navy and a major exporter of container freight, copper, wine and fruit, Valparaiso has firmly established itself as an important cog in Chile’s economic machine. Additionally, the city is being recognized for its cultural aspects. In fact, UNESCO has recently declared downtown Valparaiso’s historical quarter a World Heritage Site, in recognition of its industrial legacy, unique architecture and “improvised urban design”. And with an onslaught of summertime cruise ships depositing boatloads of tourists at the city’s doorstep, Valparaiso’s days of economic decline may very well be simply a historical footnote.

The labyrinth of steep, winding roads that crisscross the hillsides descending to downtown and the Pacific harbour numerous secret places. The curious traveler could easily spend days doing little more than wandering the streets without so much as a destination in mind, and at the end of it all, still feel as though they had accomplished a great deal. One may occasionally find oneself in an alley of dubious location and hygiene, however they may be rewarded at the next turn with a curiously colourful mural adorning the backside of a building — then, around the bend, beyond a lofty church steeple, a peak at the navy ships sitting regally in the bay. Long and narrow staircases ascend enticingly far up the hills to yet undiscovered viewpoints. And when one tires of all the climbing, they may avail themselves of the numerous funicular elevators, some well over 100 years old, that utilize a charmingly simple pulley system to aid the weary populace to their lofty destinations.

It is a city that is at once dirty and crime ridden, while managing to inspire and awe; a curious juxtaposition of chaos and calm, choking smog and fresh ocean breezes, industry and tourism, virtue and immorality. There may very well be no place on earth that is truly quite like it.