Quito Revisited

March 27th

When we visited Old Town Quito with our Celebrity group, it was a sunny Saturday, and all the indigenous Ecuadorian women and men were out in full force selling adorable paintings and scarves at every place we stopped.  We have returned to the old town and find it just as charming.  Unfortunately, the street vendors are no longer here.  They added to the ambiance of the city I thought.   Perhaps it is a weekend event, or possibly, when the tour buses come to town so do the vendors.   We are staying for two nights in a very charming hotel with old world appeal.  La Casona de la Ronda, a beautifully restored mansion originating in the 1730’s, gets the award for the most interesting and comfortable hotel in South America.  This three story home, with a typical open central courtyard, originally having a fountain, that was removed or destroyed sometime over the past 300 years.  According to lore, the original owner was quite wealthy and didn’t work.  Perhaps it was family money that kept him solvent. He used the home as a place to welcome clergy who were traveling through town, or who were waiting for a church to hire them.  I was told that the city is in the process of restoring many of the historic buildings in this town.  The street, La Ronda, is famous for being the oldest street in the city and one of the few that has all the buildings fully restored. 

The new owners of La Casona de la Ronda worked 3-4 years to restore this place to its current beauty and charm.  I am writing this blog from the common area that is decorated like a living room with a small wood burning stove that warms the place nicely.  When I look up from my computer I have a view of the patio where there is a wall of plants that goes up at least thirty feet.  It is filled with healthy hydroponically grown plants.  They also get the award for best breakfast, with warm croissants, eggs made to order, delicious frothy blackberry juice, and hot tea.  Everything, as you can see by the pictures, is just charming.  There is even a fourth floor, accessed by a winding staircase, that has an enclosed patio that overlooks the city, and the angel on the hill looks down on the hotel, offering a sense of protection, probably from the next volcano eruption.  There are large boulders jutting out of a wall or two that add to the decorative interest.  It is surmised by the current owner that these large rocks must have ended up here after the last earthquake.  

Old Town Quito, in spite of warnings to the contrary, is quite safe and friendly.  With all the stories we were told or read, you would half expect pickpockets and knife wielding bad guys around every corner and lurking behind all the grand columns in the center of town.  When we traveled with the Celebrity group, none of us were allowed to wander far from the group.  There was even a guard posted to keep watch over us.  In the two days Michael and I have wandered these streets alone, all we have encountered are beautiful people going about their business.  There are loads of parents picking up darling, uniform- clad children from school, Indian women, with babies strapped on their backs, selling apples and fruit, and many local people just shopping and going about their daily activities.  I think it is a shame that people from North America are fed such propaganda about the various places we have visited.  So far, we have found all the cities to be safe and welcoming.  We didn’t like Venezuela because it is a country that is in disrepair.  It is difficult to find anything charming about the places we went during our travels in Venezuela.  However, all the people we met, from cab drivers to our new friends on Isla Margarita, were very nice and did what they could to make our stay a positive experience.   I know that there are pickpockets out there just waiting to score (what town doesn’t have them?), but none of them have tried to score on us.  Perhaps we have been lucky, or perhaps we have just been careful and tried to appear confident in our movement on the city streets.  We don’t dress flashy or wear anything anyone would want to steal.  I left all my jewels (the one or two I own) at home, and my camera is never hanging around my neck to tempt anyone.  Even so, this is a city of people who appear to be just going about their lives, shopping for dinner, having lunch, planning a birthday party and buying a festive cake. 

Today we visited a museum where they have pre-Colombian art and relics on display.  Much of it is dated 1200 bc.  The museum is a beautifully restored two story home that also has a center courtyard.  We spent about two hours viewing the approximately 500 pieces of pottery and art that they have displayed in various rooms of the home.  We were forced to prolong our visit because, just as we were getting ready to leave, the skies opened up and it poured!  There was even pea sized hail that covered the courtyard, which soon flooded with water from the downpour.  Apparently this is typical weather in Quito.  It is sunny and warm in the morning and cool and rainy in the afternoon.  We didn’t care, as this gave us an excuse to linger longer in the museum shop and chat with the young saleswoman who had a very good command of English.  Michael loved asking her questions about how to improve his Spanish, and in exchange he helped her with some English words.  Then, upon her suggestion, we went to a restaurant that serves typical Ecuadorian food.   There was only one set menu for lunch.  No written menu, food was just brought to our table.  The place had no more than eight tables and a large flat screened TV.   The food was great and what a bargain!  The first course was a thick, hearty bean and potato soup.  Next we got a plate of red beans and rice, served with a thin cut of steak that was tasty but a bit chewy and delicious sweet fried plantain.  They gave us a sweet tomato juice that is an orange color made from a tree tomato, which is considered a fruit here.   Then we were served a tiny pastry.  I asked for hot tea to take off the chill and dampness of the day.  Our total bill came to $5.50.  Yes, $5.50 for both meals!  Come to Quito, where there are no bad guys that we could find, eat hearty local food, and stay in a restored historic hotel.   You will enjoy walking the safe colonial streets and meeting people in a place that oozes charm.

Quito and Galapagos National Park, Ecuador

We have been incognito since March 16^th when we landed in Quito, Ecuador, and the Celebrity Cruise Company took over our lives.  It was to be a welcome relief from all the pre-planning, getting lost, and constant packing and unpacking that has been our life since December 19^th when we first embarked on our six month adventure.  But in some ways, structure invaded our normal lazy, solitary routine and we were back to following schedules, getting up early, standing in lines, and trying not to miss one minute of any bird or beast the National Park had to offer!  Celebrity took good care of the 100 of us who volunteered for this expedition.  From the minute we all gathered for our first excursion until the tour ended 10 days later, they made sure we were well fed, got plenty to drink and saw most of the places and animals you see in National Geographic magazines or television specials.  They gave us an itinerary that would please even the most discerning traveler.  Our excursion began touring Quito.

Quito is an interesting city that is 9200 feet above sea level and surrounded by several mountains that still exhibit a variety of volcanic activity.  Quito’s main economic vitality comes from the tourists stopping here as they head west to the Galapagos or southeast to the treasures of Peru.  There is the new city and the old city.  We stayed in the new section for three nights at the Marriott.  Nearby, we were told, are wealthy Ecuadorians living in fancy homes or high rises.  Unlike many of the one to two story homes or buildings that climb up the hillsides, there are a few new hotels and high-rise buildings that have been built in the past five to ten years.  Then, on the opposite side of town, through LA like traffic and down narrow streets, there is the charming old city, built into the sides of a bowl shaped area that rises precipitously on all sides.  Old town is full of history that mostly involves multiple (very impressive) large, old churches that are beautiful beyond description, with gold leaf, towering spires and ceilings, and hand painted frescos.   Wikipedia would give you a much better outline of this old part of town than I can. But a few words like charming, crowded, and pretty all come to mind.  Add to that, several indigenous people wearing traditional clothing, some carrying babies tied in cloth slings strapped on their backs, many making a living selling scarves and paintings to tourists.   Now that we have returned, we will be staying in the old city for two days so that we can study it more in depth and rest from our Galapagos exploration. 

The Galapagos Islands are a group of several protected impressive islands, some tiny and one in particular, Isabella, that is 62 miles long.  These islands are a two hour flight west of Quito, and this is where our adventure began.  Apparently February and March are the hottest, wettest months in the Galapagos National Park. We chose this time to go because I had read that the water is warmest this time of the year, and I don’t swim in cold water!   We did not have a drop of rain, but experienced a lot of humidity, heat and fairly warm 68-75 degree water!  We never got exact weather reports.  I think they were afraid to tell us the temperature for fear we would all skip some of the afternoon excursions.  Some of us would laugh sarcastically at some of the descriptions that were posted.  One walk was described as a 1.5 mile hot walk on uneven ground over lava. We were told to wear good shoes, protective clothing from the sun and bring water.  Because I got sick at one point, I skipped the excursions that didn’t include animals.

It was very hot and humid much of the time, so taking the hikes was difficult for many of us. While we would get an overview of the excursions, the guides never told us to dress for the bugs!  On one hot afternoon hike there were tons of swarming gnats that surrounded our fresh, sweaty flesh as soon as we exited the zodiac!  Fortunately, the gnats didn’t bite, but they were annoying!  On some of the beaches, we were forced to put on wetsuits just to avoid the gigantic, biting flies.  However, even with all the bugs and heat, we all kept signing up for the darn excursions (which were included in the price of the cruise) because none of us wanted to be left out, miss a bird, fish or beast sighting.   Everyone, it seems, was there to capture every moment on film no matter how hot or buggy.   One guy brought a tripod and carried it everywhere.  Others had cameras with lenses so long they were a danger to others and the animals that we came to see.  We were told not to touch or get within six feet of any of the land or sea creatures at any time.  Only one or two ignored this warning. 

Most of the time long camera lenses were a waste of time as the animals were often found in our path or only a few feet away.  The animals didn’t seem to mind that they were the center of attention and went about their daily activities nearly oblivious to the visitors invading their space.  We saw more sea lions than anyone could count, and yet they never ceased to be entertaining and capture our hearts and the lens of everyone’s camera.  We even had the opportunity to swim with them on one occasion when one willing female wanted to play with us in the water.  She would swim up, look at you, and then immediately take off in various directions and quickly vanish from sight, only to resurface again and scare you with her surprise return.  At one point, Michael’s snorkel became detached from his mask and fell off.  Within seconds, the sea lion grabbed the snorkel in its mouth and swam away with it.  Unfortunately, I didn’t catch that funny moment on camera, but many of us saw it, and it became the highlight of the day.   That day we also saw very large sea turtles, colorful fish and swam in and around sharks that were at least six feet long but seemed very content to let us share the ocean with them. 

The water in the Galapagos is just stunningly beautiful in a variety of shades of aqua and dark blue.  It is so clear that you can see the bottom in places, and it is healthy with tropical and sport fish, turtles, dolphins, many species of sharks, and playful sea lions that like to follow the zodiac boats.  We saw land and sea iguanas, cute little tuxedo- wearing penguins that also swam with us, and blue footed boobies that put on a mating dance show, and also pelicans and frigate birds.  If it weren’t for the bugs and heat, you could watch them and be amused for hours.

This trip was more of an expedition than a leisure cruise.  We were up early, off in a zodiac shortly after breakfast, and only returned back to the ship for meals and brief rests and frequent showers.  We would go from wetsuits and snorkels to hiking shoes and clothing and back to wet suits before the end of the day.  A few of us suffered a 24-48 hour stomach illness, but not many of us missed any of the excursions no matter how difficult or hot they made them seem.  I even got out of my sick bed to do the deep water snorkel. It was not something I felt I could miss even though I was too sick to eat or interact with humans.  The food was good, but not unusually fantastic like some cruises we have taken.  Our cabin was spacious, and the shower area was larger than most ships, which was good because with all the activities we did, most of us were showering no less than two to three times a day. 

Our guides were informative and very protective of the environment and the animals. However, I think many of us would have liked more information, more nature talks, and more slide shows.  We had a lot of fun and met some fantastic passengers who traveled from distant countries like England, Australia, Scotland, and Canada.  We truly enjoyed getting to know many of these wonderful people, and hope that one day, some who became friends will visit us and keep in touch.  However, for most of us it will be the animals that charmed us and will remain in our hearts and share wall space in our homes.  After a couple days rest we will be off to Lima, Peru, where we have a city tour booked.  We have cut our time short in Peru because the altitude in Cuzco and Machu Picchu are not possible for Michael.  Instead, we will extend our stay in Costa Rica where my daughter is incubating my first grandchild!

Following Pablo Neruda:  Chilean Poet--Loved Rummage Sales!

March 11, 2012

After our near disaster traveling to the South of Chile, we are warm and cozy, sitting by a fire burning in a large stone fireplace at the Inn La Candela, Isla Negra, Chile.  This is a lovely rustic place on the coast about two hours south of Valparaiso.  Leaving Pirque and Casa Calma Rita was nearly as difficult as getting there.  We got lucky after many wrong turns and just happened to be behind a guy in a truck (also lost) asking for directions.  We tailgated the truck all the way down a dusty road, turned around when he did, and got onto the highway only because he must have spoken the language.  Had we not followed this guy, whom we only guessed was headed for the highway, we would still be looking for the road.  Imagine a major highway so hidden that even the locals couldn’t find it.  When the truck turned onto this narrow one lane “alley” that went between two homes that looked like it led to a private driveway, we were scared but followed anyway.  For a few seconds we thought we were following him to someone's home.  My only advice when traveling in rural Chile-- take a guide!!

Being here on the coast, with tall pines, cool ocean air and the sound of the sea nearby, is heaven!!  The color of the water is breathtakingly beautiful and difficult to describe.  Greens, blues and foamy white mixtures that not even a photo can honestly capture.   And without really trying, we find ourselves following the poet, Pablo Neruda.  Even though he died of prostate cancer in 1973, we keep bumping into him wherever we go.  Our first encounter came when we visited his home in Valparaiso.  We were told, “If you don’t visit this 1971 Nobel laureate’s home, you haven’t seen Valpo!”   Then, at the inn Vendimia, our hostess suggested we stay at our current residence, La Candela.  Carla told us that “Isla Negra is muy, muy linda.” As it turns out, she was correct.   And it is so beautiful that Pablo Neruda decided to live here when he discovered it in the 1930’s, acquiring the property next door to La Candela.   This is where we had our second encounter with the poet.  It is in this home, originally just a small, stone cabin, where you feel his presence the most.  Pablo was an avid collector who loved searching throughout the world for things to add to his collections.  As his collections of things grew, so did his home.   Each wing was designed and built by him to capture the view of the ocean, which seems to reflect blue tones into every corner of the home. 

Pablo Neruda was a child at heart, we have been told, not once but twice.  Our third encounter with Pablo came as we entered La Candela.   Photographs of him are everywhere.  Our current innkeeper-owner of the hotel, Charo Cofre, was a close friend of the poet and his wife.  Our hostess told us that her husband was a television producer and filmmaker who was commissioned to film all of the stories of Neruda’s life. They traveled with them for years and became very close friends, and eventually neighbors.  Charo told me, “If he wanted something for his collection, he begged for it, offered a lot of money for it, and if he still could not acquire it, he waited, sometimes for years for that particular item to be available.”  As a Chilean diplomat, Pablo was known to frequent antique stores all over the world. 

As you might imagine, everything pertaining to the sea is on display at this home.  Neruda collected at least twenty mastheads-- gigantic ones that are made out of beautifully carved wood.  He loved colored glass and insisted that water and wine tasted best in them.  He had dozens of hats from around the world, and along with bits of clothing he collected, would have theme dinner parties where he invited the guests to dress accordingly.  I could relate immediately!  Though the rooms in the home are small, all his collections are placed in such a way that they fit beautifully as if they belonged and were made to fit into the space.  Pablo also had a butterfly and bug collection that Darwin would have been proud to own.  He also collected shells from beaches all over the world.  A whole wing of the house is dedicated to this collection.   Down one hall he had probably fifty ships in bottles on display, the light of the ocean reflecting through them.  Without all of his collections, the house would have been just a nice beach house, but with them, the home is definitely museum quality.   

Our hostess, Charo Cofre, is multitalented, too.  She is both a chef at the inn, artist, and well-known Chilean folk singer.  We had dinner here tonight, and I will say it was the best ceviche, warm spicy shrimp and fried fish I have tasted thus far.   The inn feels like it might have been a place that once accommodated large groups like boy scouts or brownies.  Perhaps groups came for fishing expeditions.  Maybe it was a haven for honeymooners.  There are long hallways, tall ceilings, and several large multipurpose rooms that seem to go on forever.  While I sat by the fire with a glass of wine, I could swear I heard the echo of voices and laughter of those who might have sat by this fire in the 1950’s.  Perhaps they drank a bit too much, knowing the children were happy and safe playing cards or board games in another room.   It has such a camp- like feel that I can imagine being awakened early tomorrow to a horn blowing revelie and join a group of kids lined up to have breakfast, wiping sleep from their eyes.  

Tonight, as we sat looking at the ocean from our table in the rustic restaurant where we were the only patrons, we had our fourth encounter with the poet.   Our waiter, Ramon, told us that he worked at the inn for fifty years and served Pablo Neruda, who often sat at this very table because it had the best view.   I believe that this is a good omen.  Maybe from this point on, we will no longer get lost.  We have many weeks yet to travel and many places to visit, but I feel certain the hardest part is behind us.   Tomorrow we will be back in Valparaiso, which so charmed us and stole our hearts that we decided to stay there again for two more days.

Traveling Through Chile Without Plans:  Never Again!!

March 10,2012

Who among our friends told us that traveling without hotel reservations and plans is great fun and makes the journey a true pleasure for the mystery of it all??  I want to shoot them!!  Raise your hand, Tom Malone.  Come forward and travel with us for about twenty-four hours, and you too will be glad to make plans ahead of time.  Throwing caution to the wind, we set out in a rented car from Valparaiso, heading south toward Santa Cruz. We were told by our last hostess that it was a cute town with an extensive museum, good restaurants, and only three hours down the road.   For the first couple hours it was a lovely trip, with the windows down and the wind in our hair (sadly the car had no air-conditioning).  It was just miles of good road in front of us and the freedom of knowing we could stop when and where we wanted.  We even had the assurance of hotel reservations at the end of the day. 

I decided that since Santa Cruz was a popular destination for wine connoisseurs, it would be best to have a reservation for just this first night. Then, with the suggestion from our buddy Tom, who told us to, “Just stop when you feel like it, go into a town, find a welcoming bar, order something cold and get the bartender to open up about the town and a good place to stay.”  Tom said “It works for me every time” and he always told the most interesting stories of the places and people he met along the way.  I think Mary said a few negative things behind her husband’s back about how it really worked, but I didn’t hear her too clearly, wanting to believe in the stories he told. I figured it would be an exciting way to see the rest of Chile, and we wanted some interesting stories to tell someday.

Our journey to Santa Cruz, even with a good road map and the knowledge that we did have a place to stay at the end of the road, did not go perfectly well.  The signs along the way are not always plentiful, and when you get off the highway, as we did on country roads, there are few people to ask if we were headed in the correct direction.  It is tough to come to the end of a lonely road and decide should we go right or left.  We had spent all our coins on tolls so we had nothing to toss in the air to help send us in the correct direction…we just shrugged our shoulders, licked our finger to test which way the wind was blowing, and gambled. 

Fortunately many of the turns were correct, but I think we just got lucky a great deal of the time.  Maybe it was less because of luck and more that Michael is good about asking directions.  Trouble is he unnerves me in the frequency that he wants to stop and the type of people he chooses to ask; it just makes me crazy!  If we were in the States, I am sure he would have been arrested many times for pulling up along school children and asking the way.  Then there’s the scruffy guy along the side of the road who looks like he could steal us blind, but that doesn’t stop Michael from stopping and talking to him, oh no, not one bit!  And it is always on “my” side of the car with “my” window rolled down and “my” neck waiting for the guy to grab it and pull a knife or something!  But, mostly his inquiries end in me laughing and frustrated because he comes away with no further information than when he started. 

While Michael’s Spanish has improved daily with the addition of many new words, and his accent is always flawless, he understands very little.  Anyone who hears him speak answers back so fast, thinking that he has a true understanding of the language, and that he understands everything.  But instead of understanding, Michael shakes his head and puts his hands in the air with frustration!  As he drives off I usually say, “So what did he say?” And he comes back with, “I have no idea.”  Sometimes it takes several times of him saying “Mas lento” and “No entiendo nada” for them to get the clue that he is in fact a “Spanish poser” and “they” end up shaking their heads and throwing “their” hands in the air!!  But somehow he finally gets enough direction out of the jumble of words and hand signals, and we are on our way again, still gambling that we are going the right way. On a map, the town of Santa Cruz was about two inches below Valparaiso, and our last hostess told us it should take only three hours to get there.  Given the pit stops, wrong turns and time taken to ask directions, we made it in good time, I thought, just a little over “five” hours!!  The last hour was spent just driving the town of Santa Cruz trying to find the hotel.  Even the smallest of towns have one way streets, and many of the streets have no street signs, so even the locals don’t know where things are.  But eventually, with more frustration than I can describe, we found the hotel, and it was a welcome sight: a diamond in the rough, sitting in a bit of a rundown neighborhood of barking dogs. 

Vendimia, our Santa Cruz digs, is a two story, recently redone, home-like hotel or Inn decorated tastefully with a mixture of just the right amount of antiques and modern fixtures that fit the theme.  All the rooms had been updated with new bathrooms. It had a beautifully re-done concrete stamped floor that gave it an old world feel.  Antiques also filled each of the ten guest rooms.  After four days of lousy beds, I was grateful that our king-sized bed was comfortable and welcoming to my tired, hot, and achy muscles.

Even though the hotel was beautiful, it was the people who charmed us so much we ended up staying an extra night.  Upon arrival we were greeting with fresh, icy cold water to drink.  Our strawberries, purchased at a roadside stand, were taken to the refrigerator to wait for us to request them, and when we did, we were asked how many we wanted.  In minutes, they were presented to us in a lovely dish, freshly washed, and sweeter than any we have ever tasted.  Those small favors would have been enough to write touching paragraphs to Trip Advisor extolling their virtues, but when we met the daughter-manager of the inn, we immediately fell in love. 

Carla Daniela is a petite twenty-four year old beauty who spoke a mixture of broken English and Spanish so slowly that Michael could understand nearly everything she said and so could I.  She was obviously proud of the inn and showed us around as if we were family.  We were told that the inn was the passion of her mother, a very young and beautiful woman who is only forty-one years old (yes, do the math; she had Carla very young).  However, what took us by surprise the most was being told that many of the paintings that adorn the walls were done by her mother.  When we finally met Carla’s mother, I saw that she was very shy about her accomplishments and told us that she had never exhibited her works beyond the hotel.   As you will see from the photos, she is very talented.  To top everything else this inn had to offer, every morning we were served a delicious breakfast amongst the antiques, at a long dining table overlooking a small backyard patio and pool.  If I had I known how stressful the next few days would be I would have begged to stay there several more days. 

But we were off to find our next adventure.  As our newest daughter/innkeeper ran out to give us a hug and say goodbye, I felt a sense of foreboding come over me.  But why? We had a goal.  We had a town to drive to.  Our car was healthy.  We were well fed and well rested, and yet I didn’t want to leave!!  I guess it was because this time we headed south with absolutely no idea of where we would stay for the night. It was a challenge that I’d made with my normally organized self, “You can do this, just relax and let the trip happen!”  It wasn’t long however, before I began to feel like we were contestants in the “Great Race”, just waiting for the next clue, and if we were lucky, a pot of gold at the end.  I found out that “we” do not do well at crunch time, especially when “we” are both hot, tired and in need of a comfortable bed and food.  Chile is not like the US in many ways, but the biggest difference is that there are none of the expected roadside motels that you can find along most of our well-traveled highways.  So I simply pointed to what I thought might be the biggest town, did some preplanning of listing possible hotels in that town and hoped one might suit us and have a room for the night. But Michael, like a petulant kid kept asking, “Aren’t we there yet??

On the map, Chillan looks like a big town.  However, it was a small and a very busy town about four hours south of Santa Cruz.  It was a straight shot down Route 5, no country roads and we still got lost for a half an hour. Also, Chillan was not at all what I’d hoped to find.  I expected that the further south we went the colder it would get, with more lakes and mountains to cool the air.  Not so! This was just a large, dirty town with the usual town square but with none of the charm.  I wanted redwoods, mountain streams and wildlife.  All I saw was graffiti and skateboarders using the O’ Higgins monument, in the center of the town square. as a jumping off point to do fancy tricks.   In Chillan there was just one bad, rundown hotel after another!  The only decent hotel cost more money than we were used to paying. But seeing me hot, tired, and windblown, the wonderful man behind the hotel desk gave us a discount, a card with two free drinks, and sent us to the bar!  Fortunately, the bed was good, the place was clean and we soon settled in for the night. 

Having a good person planning everything makes for a great trip for the people who are just along for the ride. Unfortunately, that person planning is usually me!   This time I insisted that before we moved one inch from our current location we needed to make a plan. I wanted scenic but Michael had no interest in finding those redwoods or rivers. He wanted to head north, back toward our ultimate goal, Valparaiso, where we’d rented the car.   So I scoured the internet for the next “two hours” looking for reservations somewhere north.  I wanted to be no more than two hours away from our next preplanned reservation, one by the sea, that Carla had set up for us.  But there were no hotels along Route 5! Not even one!  I was already at the end of my rope and we had yet to leave the hotel!  When I finally found something off the beaten path, with a lot of fear and frustration, I just hit the keys on the computer and booked the place for two nights. 

I can now see why there were no hotels in our path north; it is just pure farm land, hills and scrub brush.  There are several modern gas stations, antique and craft stores but not one hotel that we could see.  It took about four hours to get to the point where we were to get off the highway.  This time we had a map made by the guy in the hotel who got directions directly from our next innkeeper, so how bad could it be???  Bad enough!   

It took another three more hours of wrong turns in crowded little cities with narrow one ways streets and people shaking their heads when we asked directions as if the place we wanted didn’t exist.  At one point, the list of my frustrations grew so large that when Michael pulled the car to the side of the road and asked me for the tenth time “Now what do you want me to do?”, I threw the directions to the floor, stomped my feet, put my hands in the air and said, “I give up, I can’t do this anymore, it isn’t fun, I want to go home, I want my bed, my neighbors, my cities where we are certain we can find a hotel.  I want to sit in my front yard and have a cold glass of wine and listen to Shelley tell me her stories or beg for Ed to talk about his latest script.  I could even watch the 9^th street kids play and scream.  Anything has to be better than this craziness, anything!”  Noticing my frustration, and being a dear, kind, sweet guy, he responded with, “That’s fine, but what do we do now?”  We were in the game of the “Great Race” and losing.  Thank God the cameras weren’t rolling.  I was about to kill the guy who cooked up this ridiculous trip!

Of course Michael’s next move is always to ask directions. His first stop was definitely in the poor side of town. Imagine a sleazy neighborhood.  This was his first choice to stop.  One toothless guy came out from his house and told us (with a worried look and hand signals) that we were really out of the way. He mentioned something about going to Route 5, Santiago, and starting over. I think it was that point I lost it          `.  We were a good hour off the highway.  No way did I want to go back and start over.  “Start over and go where” I yelled!!    Sensing my frustration and fearing my demise or his, Michael stopped and asked the way from group of guys at a gas station. They confirmed we were a long way from our goal, but somehow Michael made out what they said and we were off again.  While I waited in the car and watched Michael get directions, or should I say watched him shake his head a lot and look in my direction, I closed my eyes tight and tried to beam myself home again, but when I opened them I realized we were no closer to home than we were to our hotel.

I wish I could tell you that finding the place was an “adventure” and a breeze after that, but it wasn’t.  After what seemed like endless wrong turns, school children pointing in the opposite directions, and us turning around in busy streets, accepting the wrath of other drivers honking at us, we finally made it.  This place is indeed off the beaten path-- it is off the map!!  It is more of a country restaurant that has a few rooms than a hotel that has a few tables for people to have a meal.  Casa Calma Rita (ironically named) is charming in its own way, and I knew I loved it as soon as I stepped beyond the opened door and the sound of Nat King Cole’s voice could be heard inside.  The innkeeper, seeing the distress in my eyes, asked if he could get me anything.  A glass of cold wine please, and soon he was handing me a whole bottle and showing me the way to the patio and pool.

You will see by the pictures that this is an unusual place.  The inn is so far into the countryside that even the sound of dogs barking gets lost in the cool mountain air.  We met some people here that make any of our “getting lost” stories pale in comparison.  Our new friends from Long Island told us over the bottle of Chardonnay that they rented a car in Chile so that they could make the most of the two short weeks they had to explore the area.  They had booked many wine tours, and one of them was in Mendoza, Argentina.  They knew it was a several hour ride through the Andes, but didn’t think anything of it until four hours into the trip.  When they got to the border, they weren’t allowed to cross.  It seems that they needed papers from the rental agency to allow them to take the car into another country.  They would have to turn around and go back.  After an hour and a half of waiting for papers to be faxed giving them the okay to proceed, they got word that the agency would not allow them to go any further.  Thus they had to turn around and drive four hours back the way they had come. Luckily they were able to secure the last two seats on the last bus out of Santiago to Mendoza!  No thanks! 

I am much calmer now, with several hours of sleep, a lot of good wine and gourmet food prepared here at the inn.  Much of it is made by our host who, like I said, is more of a restaurant owner than an innkeeper.  He had fifty diners requiring his attention today. Unlike other places we have stayed, we got none of his attention until we sat down to eat. We have a room with a window that opens directly into the dining room, and the smell of the food and good jazz coming from his private CD collection is relaxing. We just have to keep the curtains closed so we don’t undress with an audience.  Fortunately, we can forget about getting directions to the next place for one more night!

Valparaiso Chile:  A House Where Every Room has a View!

March 6, 2012

We are leaving Valparaiso, Chile today in a rented car, headed for cities and small towns to the south.  We will be avoiding Chile’s largest city, Santiago for now as we prefer to explore much smaller towns and cities for the next few days.  But first I must tell you about our visit to Valparaiso.  This city was founded in the 1500’s by Spaniards, who established it as a major port city.  Before the opening of the Panama Canal, in 1914, it was a thriving port known as “Little San Francisco” due to many topographical similarities, including that of having large sections destroyed during earthquakes.  However, to us it seems to have steeper hills than that of San Francisco, and most of the residents live there, perched like hawks, in homes on the hillsides. From what I could tell every home had a perfect view.

We have only walked “down” (not up) the hills into the “flat” part of the city and my calves are still annoyed by the effort it took to keep from falling and rolling all the way down. Most residents think nothing of walking back up these steep, twisty streets and we passed many making the journey up to their homes.  One friendly fellow who was well into his eighties told us he walks up and down the hills daily.  We admired his strikingly healthy countenance and told him how young and robust he seemed to be.   He boasted about how good he felt with the exercise and “just a pinch of sulfur taken daily.” 

But since “we” are not in the habit of walking “up” the hills to return to the inn, we took a cab called a collectivo, which is like a taxi that waits near a park for a group of four to fill the car.  Then they zoom, frighteningly fast, up narrow one way streets into the hillsides delivering the passengers. Strangers could easily become friends sitting so close and tossed into one anther around each curve.  For me it was an exciting ride but scarier than our trip through the Andes.  Our hotel was in zone one and we were told there are fifteen more zones above that.  I was glad we didn’t have to go any higher. 

 “The Grand House”, our home for two days, lived up to its name.  It is grand in size and view.  From every window the view of the city and harbor is stunning.  This house really is what I called a “Museo de Antiqua.”  The original part of the home was built in 1919 and the current house contains many of the furnishings of that era.  Every corner and surface is covered with glassware, figurines and china sets too numerous to describe. Antique furniture covers the hardwood floors, and the walls are full of old pictures in ornate frames.  During breakfast I would imagine how long it would take to clean and polish all the things just in the dining room.  I figured it would take at least a day just to clean one room, and then by the time you finish all the rooms it would be time to start again. The sisters do all the work themselves because, as Doris pointed out, “Everything is too valuable and could be easily broken or stolen.” Doris then added, “We don’t trust anyone else.”  

Our inn keepers, Doris and Carolina are fraternal twin sisters who took over the task of running the business at the ripe old age of fourteen.  They are now about to celebrate twenty years of welcoming guest into their six guest-room home.  They were very sweet and friendly and told us many stories of the home’s history.  According to them, the home originally belonged to their great-grandfather, who emigrated from England in the early 1900’s.  Back then it took several months to travel by ship from other continents because there was no passage through the Panama Canal. We were told that great-grandpa left his wife and three daughters behind until he could find work as an accountant with a silver mining firm.  He loved Valparaiso so much that he decided to buy a home on the hill where he would raise five children and never get tired of the ever changing scenery below.  However, to buy such a home required more money than he could make from his accounting job. Family lore contends that he turned to the lottery, which he won, not once but twice, giving him enough money to make the purchase.  The home was then inherited by the girls’, grandfather who sired eleven children, one being their father.  We wondered how just one out of eleven ended up owning the home.  We were told that at some point in the 90’s, the grandfather sold the home and two years later it was re-purchased by their father, and the concept of the inn was born.

Valparaiso seems to have many homeless dogs.  They appear to pair up to rummage through the garbage, beg for handouts, try to catch rides on buses, and leave doggy landmines that appear frequently.  I wish I could say that we rested well at The Grand House, but we didn’t. Night sounds crept into the open windows long into the early morning as we attempted to sleep in our very uncomfortable, sagging twin beds.  Traffic was heard in the distance-- the occasional honk of a horn, clang of a trolley and the noise from the funiculars as they took passengers into the hillside neighborhoods.  Combine the vehicular noise with a chorus of dogs, sopranos and baritones, dominating the barrio serenade.  However, most annoying sounds were the local canine soloists that intermittently sang off-key right near our window preventing any semblance of a normal, uninterrupted sleep.  

Early morning fog brought the sound of foghorns and ships answering in the distance.  Since I couldn’t sleep, I dragged my painful muscles (achy from days of horrible beds and hills) to the window to see the foggy morning view.  I was surprised by the change from a city and coastal view to a city completely blanketed in damp undulating clouds.  Only the occasional tip of a church spire or top floor of a building could be seen floating above the cloudy sea.  Tonight we look for a hotel in Santa Cruz with a comfortable bed in a quiet town. Perhaps I am just dreaming, or maybe I just wish I could!

We Made It:  Over the Andes By Bus

Yesterday we left the peace and comfort of our Mendoza Inn home for Chile via bus.  I already miss our wonderful innkeeper, Francisco and his sweet dog, Soki!!  The last night of our stay we had a backyard Parrilla dinner that we prepared and shared with another American couple, Dilek and Kevin, who like us, are traveling for six months. The steak, rustic potatoes, fresh tomatoes and grilled zucchini were fantastic, and Francisco’s daiquiris were the best I have ever had! I hope that if you ever travel to Mendoza, you will think about staying at this wonderful inn, where you can totally relax for as long as you like.

Unlike us, Dilek and Kevin are young and at the beginning of their adult lives, celebrating the time before starting new careers, a family and going to grad school by taking a break wandering South America, New Zealand, and Asia.  It is nice to see the world through their well-educated (masters degrees at MIT & Harvard) eyes.  It will be fun to follow them on their blog and exchange stories of the travels we both have ahead of us.

With all the reports of a scary ride through the Andes, we were prepared to risk life and limb just to test our mental and physical composure.  Of course entering Chile was our ultimate goal.  While there are several very scary, hair-pin turns (that have no guard rails) going down the steep mountainsides, our skilled bus driver took them at a careful speed and maneuvered the bus so well it felt like it was just gliding down the hills. Even when the bus was on the wrong side of the road with a semi coming head on, I only cringed, held my breath, and looked away two or three times during the thirty odd turns that were made.  I think you will see by the pictures that the road does twist a bit!!  

We bought seats on the top level, front row, with the hope of having an “E” ticket ride over the “big hill.”  We were told that a panoramic window was a must to catch all the beauty in a big way.   But unfortunately, the window was covered with a mesh sun screen coating that shaded the hot sun and also most of the view from us and my camera.  The only intermittent good views were captured from the side windows as we made turns, and I must admit there is a lot of beauty in the Andes. During this time of the year the mountaintops are bare and rocky with colors of reds, greens, and purples, reflecting off the sun-lit sides. Unlike the Rockies, there are no tall fir trees, only the occasional scrub brush and cactus due to the warm, dry summer temps and high altitude.  Mt. Aconcagua, the only peak with snow that we could see, is the highest peak in the Americas rising 22,841 ft into the sky. I couldn’t help but wonder about how all the mountains must look with snow covering them.  During the four hour crossing I had flashbacks of excerpts from the book Alive and could see why crashing in the snow of this rugged high altitude terrain could be deadly.  In spite of rumors to the contrary, our stop at the border crossing was uneventful and quick.  We were, documented, baggage searched (by an adorable yellow lab) and back on the bus in less than 45 minutes.  We had heard rumors that it could take up to two hours or more to get through.  I think we lucked out by being the first bus to stop.  It wasn’t long after our trip through immigration that other buses showed up and the lines began to grow.  However, I felt lucky to be on a bus because the line of cars going through customs was easily as long as the ones at the Tijuana border crossing. 

Our first stop in Chile is Piero’s hotel in Renaca.  This little Pacific beach town reminds us of downtown Hermosa in a way, with bathing suit stores, rustic restaurants and young hangouts, and American music wafting through the streets.  Like Hermosa, it is nestled along a bay, but instead of flat terrain, Renaca has a lot of high-rises, homes, and condos built into the sides of steep hills.  It is hot during the day here, but the ocean temps are similar to our beach water this time of the year—cold!!  We are very happy to have a hotel room on the 4^th floor that overlooks the ocean.  We have a pretty ocean view, only slightly marred by a tall Burger King sign.  We can see Vina del Mar and Valparaiso peninsula in the south looking so much like our Palos Verdes would from Hermosa Beach.  We can also see container ships and cruise liners that travel in and out of the Valparaiso harbor.  So far we have discovered that the food here is not that inexpensive.  We ate at a local, ordinary Mexican food restaurant where we ordered a margarita, pisco sour (was told that I had to have one in Chile) and two tacos and salmon dish that cost a total of $53.00 including tip.  We will be searching out a good seafood restaurant for tonight’s meal.  We hear that the seafood here is fantastic! 

Tomorrow we head to a B&B in Valparaiso that is run by two sisters who have a home filled with Antiques in the hills overlooking the city.  We only have three days to decide what other areas of Chile to explore.  Should we travel by car on our own or go on a bus tour??  That is difficult to say because these next ten days of the trip have not been planned. So if you have any suggestions quickly send them our way!!  On the thirteenth, we are headed to the big city of Santiago to enjoy whatever historical places we can find there.  Then we leave planning to others (finally) for ten whole days when we fly to Quito, Ecuador on the 16^th for a Galapagos tour.  Swim with the seals?  Why not!!   There are a lot of pictures posted with this new blog so you will have to scroll past old blogs to view them.  I wish I had another way to display them to make it fit with each blog but with my limited computer skills this is the best I can do...enjoy!