Courtney AnneWe arrived in Valparaiso, Chile as the sun was rising over the Sapphire blue bay. The crisp coastline air was freeing in contrast to the unwavering humidity of previous weeks, and the salty smell of the sea was a promise of renewed vitality. This was what I had been waiting for. Tensions in the group were high, as we’d been traveling together for weeks. Yet, after endless structured activities we finally had one day to ourselves.
That morning I left the hostel on foot to search for street art, gliding my way through the serpentine labyrinth of colors and cobblestones. I wove deeper into the maze, toward the heart of Valparaiso, the colors growing brighter with each step. I ascended cerro (hill) after cerro of winding streets. The murals drew me to them, one after the other. They teased me, as if to say, “just one more.” The paint was so fluid that it was difficult to decipher where one artist had ended their work and another began. The city itself was an outdoor gallery, with more enticing pieces around every crumbling corner. The juxtaposition of the Victorian buildings with the contemporary art that checkered their facades gave the city an original feel. Otherworldly portraits, surreal landscapes, and ironic political caricatures adorned the city like a crown atop “The Jewel of the Pacific.”
There were a few pieces of street art I knew I wanted to find that day. One in particular, by Teo Doro, hides behind the Hostal Girasoles along an endless stuccoed alleyway. The Van Gogh inspired sunflowers, cypresses, and stars invite travelers to the Sunflower Hostel.
I hurried past tiled secret passageways decorated with mosaics of tiny multicolored houses, flowers, and sea creatures. I was witness to smiley faces that ornamented the oozing drain pipes, as well as to a worn, painted staircase that could serve as a piano for the Gods. They were masterpieces, hiding in plain sight. Engulfed in color and the hum of the city, I admired the panoramic views. The pastel colored crumbling houses and rusted funiculars, or cable railways, ascended out of the bright blue Pacific coastline, blanketing the 42 cerros like a weathered, homemade quilt.
It was within these rough, narrow walls that I found solace. And, as that morning came to a close and the cool breeze moved out to sea, I felt empowered, revitalized, and prepared to return to my group. It was easy to see why Pablo Neruda was enamored with the city and described her as “…the patched-up prow of a small brave ship. The foamy crown of the tempest.” One could live a lifetime in Valpo without ever discovering all of her secrets. I was humbled to have been able to experience the city’s culture through its artist’s creativity, originality, and the way they see the world. Valparaiso has been decorated by a colony of artists, and thus, she literally wears her heart on her sleeves.
Let’s get lost!
