Travel Blog: The San Pedro de Atacama Tourist Trail

San Pedro. Photo Natasha Young

I got the hell out of bar-brawling Calama as fast as possible on an airport transfer (9,000 CP). It’s a winding, empty road through desert country to get to San Pedro (think Thelma & Louise as they’re nearing the Grand Canyon) and everyone was gossiping about the fact that we’d all shared a plane with a famous Chilean model, her handsome boyfriend and a TV crew. I still have absolutely no idea who these people were.

The tarmaced road runs out as you hit San Pedro. Suddenly it becomes a dusty dirt track and small adobe houses line the few streets that make up this tiny town. It really did feel like I was in the middle of nowhere about to enter a shoot out with the sheriff. I was John Wayne, only with breasts and a giant backpack.

Reality dawned the next morning. San Pedro de Atacama is tourist central. The one main street running through the town, Caracoles, is lined with tour agencies, restaurants hustling for business in English, souvenir shops and launderettes. Normal life facilities like cheap supermarkets, ironmongers, chemists and banks are few and far between. It was all quite a shock after Chiloe.

What I also hadn’t bargained for is that San Pedro is at altitute (2400m) and many of the tours take you to places at over 4,000m. That and the intense heat meant that I felt a bit weird when I got there, although I was lucky enough to not get sick. You seriously need to take a day or two to adjust before going to the geysers or the lagoons and grab some coca leaves from the market (500 CP) if you start getting headaches.

San Pedro is a pretty enough town but there’s not a great deal to do once you’ve wandered around the shops, museum and church. This place is sadly all about the tours. What everyone has come here to see isn’t that accesible without a 4×4 and a good map, which means the tour agencies make a killing and you have to troop after your guide for the day and do as your told.

I spent three days in San Pedro at the lovely Hostel Sonchek  (C/Gustavo le Paige 170. 10,000 CP per night for a single) and ended up having to book tours with 3 different agencies. Lonely Planet recommend Cactus Tour and Cosmo Andino. Both of these book up really fast and after taking Cactus’s Tour to the Altiplano Lakes, I can see why.

Valle de la Luna

Tourist Hell in Valle de la Luna. Photo Natasha Young

Famous for its beautiful sunsets and moon-like landscapes (hence the name), everyone does this tour. The cheapest (around 7-8000 CP) and closest of all the excursions out of town, it’s hard not to feel like a sheep being herded around by an over-enthusiastic border collie. Our tour guide didn’t actually say ‘ARE YOU ALL HAVING A GOOD TIME?!, I CAN’T HEAR YOU! but I’m sure it was on the tip of his tongue. Saying that, it is a beautiful other-worldy place full of ghostly crackling salt formations and gigantic dunes. We climbed up for a view of the sunset with at least a hundred others and then got whisked off onto the bus just as it was getting good. A bit of a let down to be honest. I went with Turis Tours (Cactus and Cosmo Andino were both full). Word on the street is they have a reputation for rushing. Cactus apparently don’t climb that dune and go to a secret spot where they get the view to themselves.

Nice view though. Photo Natasha Young

Altiplano Lakes

I did this with Cactus Tour and it was a joy from start to finish. Stopping at Laguna Chaxa in the Salar de Atacama to see the flamingos, Lagunas Miñiques and Miscanti and the towns of Socaire and Toconao, they deliberately set off way before any0ne else to get to the flamingos first. These weirdly proportioned pink-feathered creatures quite rightly don’t like being stared at when they’re eating their breakfast, so when all the other mini-buses start arriving, they all fly away. We crept in at first light and got to observe them in their natural habitat, a lagoon in the middle of a crusty salt flat, surrounded by mountains. An extraordinary experience and well worth getting out of bed early for. Cactus charge considerably more than other agencies for this trip but if you want to see the flamingos, have a knowledgable guide whose English doesn’t make you wince and a decent breakfast, they are a fine choice.

Flamingos. Photo Natasha Young

El Tatio Geyser. Photo Natasha Young

El Tatio Geysers

You don’t to see many geysers in Europe. El Tatio is one of the reasons you come to San Pedro and I can’t deny they are impressive. However getting up in the middle of the night and dressing for minus 10 is not normally my idea of a good time. In fact, I realised as I got up at 3.3oam that I’d never actually been out on the streets at that time sober. I did this tour with Atacama Connection. The guide was the handsome moody type, which I’m normally all up for, but a silent tour guide doesn’t leave you very well informed. As I boarded the bus at 4am, I was told that it would take 2 hours to get there and we could all have a nap. However the road was so eyeball-shakingly rocky and the van’s suspension having seen better days, I didn’t sleep a wink. The geyers are at 4300m above sea level and three of our group were feeling decidely rough. One little boy’s reaction to seeing his first geyser was to vomit sadly as his older brother, who was utterly unaffected by the altitute, gaped in wonder. My favourite part of this trip was spotting the wildlife on the way back. We saw a viscacha (like a big rabbit with a squirrel-like tail), vicuña (the sort of animal you normally see getting ripped apart by lions on wildlife documentaries), llamas and a whole load of birds I don’t know the names of.

Vicuña. Photo Natasha Young

So…

Accomodation: Hostel Sonchek for clean and comfy rooms, friendly staff, a nice patio and a garden with hammocks.

Trips: Cactus Tour get a double thumbs-up.

Food: Two places not in the guide books are El Tribu on the corner of Calama and Gustavo le Paige for great vegetarian food  and Chilean classics (2,800 CP for veggie fajitas with rice and salad) and Terra Oasis for fine food with a gourmet touch at a fraction of the price of the places on Caracoles (3,800 CP for a 3 course set lunch). The food stalls behind the museum knock out a fine Cazuela de Ave for 1,200 CP and the tomato, basil and cheese empanadas sold around town are very special indeed.

I’m currently in Arica and have paddled in the sea. Next stop, Peru.

Travel Blog: Hilarious Announcements on Planes

Photo by Abi Skipp (Flickr.com)

Hell. O. On bee arf of WonWhirl, capTAIN Gonzalez and thee ker. Roo. wanna welCOME yooooooo a. Board. Please fast ten your seat BElt and gurrrreedyfour take OFF.

I hate flying but I love these announcements. Why the poor bugger who knows nothing about the language has to read it out I have no idea.

I imagine BA’s attempts at French or German are equally brilliant.

If LAN or any airline is interested in my services as an English teacher (and they should be), I’d be more than happy to help. 

Travel Blog: Puerto Montt – worse than Mansfield

Puerto Montt. Photo Natasha Young

The Lonely Planet were being kind when they called Puerto Montt a ‘grimy transport hub’.  It’s a hole of a place and even worse than Mansfield

Puerto Montt. Photo Natasha Young

It should be nice. There’s a giant volcano towering over it,  salmon galore and it’s the centre of the lake district but it’s truly horrible. Transient workers look for work in the salmon industry or cement factories and hotels charge by the hour.

Puerto Montt. Photo Natasha Young

Puerto Montt. Photo Natasha Young

If you have the misfortune to find yourself there, stay in the bus station with your rucksack to the wall and pray your bus connection arrives on time.

I left the bus station for a few hours to have a look round.  You quite literally have to step over grubby overalled men sleeping in the street with their flies open to cross the street. As you do,  men yell at you out of car windows and rubbish blows into your face.  It’s got a leery, unpleasant vibe to it as if you’d somehow accidently walked into a mining town roadside bar dressed as a stripper.

Puerto Montt. Photo Natasha Young

Check out the pigeon on the left, walking all over the produce and nibbling as he goes. Photo Natasha Young

Meanwhile, less than 20 minutes down the road is the divine Puerto Varas with friendly folk, lakeside views and good food. You would have to pay me a million pounds to live in Puerto Montt. Per hour.

Travel Blog: Falling in love with Chiloe

Palafitos. Photo Natasha Young

After falling for Ancud, I really wasn’t feeling the love for Castro. All the guide books tell you that if you only have time for one place in Chiloe it should be Castro. But after 11 months in smoggy, noisy Santiago, the chaotic streets of Castro weren’t winning me over. Admittedly, the houses on stilts over the water were pretty and photogenic (known round these parts as palafitos) and the seafood stands at the market served incredible cerviche, but I just wanted a bit of peace and quiet.

And so it was I took a guided tour to Dalcahue and the smaller island of Quinchao. I could have done it independently of course, but time was short and frankly I couldn’t be bothered faffing about trying to find a boat to take me there.

Fishing boat at Dalachue. Photo Natasha Young

My jovial guide was Sergio. A ex-taxi driver/civil servant/office manager, here was a Chilean who could talk the legs of my own mother. Like any self-respecting taxi driver (ex or otherwise), Sergio had an opinion about everything. He was outraged about the government not paying teachers what they were owed, foreigners buying up all the land in Chiloe, ‘work-shy’ Mapuche, youngsters not keeping up the local traditions and crafts, the salmon industry and world politics. Imagine if you will, standing in the middle of nowhere, in front of a tranquil lake with views of the snow-capped Andes and a voice behind you saying sadly; “my grandfather told me the yellow people were going to take over the world and I didn’t listen, I didn’t listen”. It was like I’d accently invited the spirit of Bernard Manning to come on holiday with me.

Sergio tour guide and orator. Photo Natasha Young

Lorenzo was also along for the ride. A Catalan from Tarragona, avoiding the European winter, it was a joy to hear a lispy Catalan accent and chat about Barcelona. He didn’t seem to mind that I kept steering the conversation back to beer so I could his Spanish pronunciation of ‘cerveza’.

We started out in lovely Dalcahue, a small fishing village a few kilometres from Castro from where boats depart to the smaller islands. Everything and anything that needs to be transported across the water comes here and the dock was busy with people, boxes and cars queuing up to board boats. Housewives brushed steps, kids giggled their way into church for the Xmas carol concert, shoppers passed the time of day with the greengrocer and dockers yelled at each other.

We crossed by car carrier to the island of Quinchao. Chiloe looks a lot like Britain – with its green hills, rain-loving potatoes, trees and lakes – and no more so than here.

PHoto Natasha Young

Like Scotland, Salmon is huge business here but intensive and greedy fish farming techniques borrowed from Norway have caused many problems. The remains of an abandoned salmon farm could be seen in the beautiful mill-pond still lake as we drove down the hill towards Curaco de Velez and Sergio muttered about gringo landowners and upcoming world super powers.

Photo Natasha Young

Most people stand in hushed reverence in front of the old wooden church at this sleepy village, but as an athesist seafood-lover, I got distracted by a big sign that said ‘Oysters this way’. With Sergio and Lorezno in tow, I went in search of my own nirvana.

I’d never tried oysters before but had always wanted to. Costing the bargain price of 300 pesos each (about 40p) and just out of the sea fresh, I can only say that I fear now that I really will have to marry a millionaire. I can’t remember eating anything I’ve liked as much. I quite literally had to be dragged kicking and screaming back to the car.

Divine dining. Photo Natasha Young

I didn’t really care what we did after that. Even the nearly-ready mirador with views of the sea, islands, green fields, horses, the Andes and two volcanoes (one still smoking in Argentina) couldn’t quite match up to my first taste of oysters. It was a damn fine view though, I have to admit. After lunch in Achao and more churches crossed off the list, we headed back to Castro and the market for a wee bit of shopping . Sadly, they weren’t selling oysters.

It’s been a pretty much perfect few days in Chiloe. I’m smitten. Valpo has got competition.

Dolls in Castro market. Photo Natasha Young

Travel Blog: Penguins!!!

Humboldt penguins hanging out. Photo Natasha Young

I’d quite like to be a Magellanic penguin. The ladies seem to have it pretty easy. The male penguins head here to Chiloe in September to get the nest ready, tidy up and sort stuff out before the girls swim over in October. While the boys have only one life partner until the day they die, the girls get the odd free pass when a handsome stranger waddles into town. Once the little ones are born, it’s the girls that get to go shopping and get the food in while the men stay home, pay the gas bill and take the kids to swimming classes. Plus you get to eat fresh sardines all day. It really can’t be a bad life.

Ancud where the sun finally came out. Photo Natasha Young

I came here to see the penguins. Chilean friends had told me that Chiloe was a special, beautiful, magical place like nowhere else on earth. Meanwhile an English friend described it as ‘exactly like Wales with Welsh weather’, whilst another thought it was ‘a bit boring’. After a couple of days on the island I’ve concluded that they’re all right, although it reminds me more of Scotland or Ireland.

Dressed to impress. Photo Natasha Young

It would be completely unfair for an English girl to complain about the weather, so let’s just say that Chiloe is green and lovely and I won’t mention the squally rain and dark clouds. If you come, just remember to bring waterproofs, a brolley and warm layers.

It starts to feel pretty special even before you arrive. To get here you have to cross the water from mainland Chile. The bus pulls up onto a long cargo boat and the low-flying cormorants and playful sealions help to guide it into the bay across the water. Then it’s mile upon mile of green nothingness before you arrive in Ancud.

It was general election day when I went to see the penquins. That meant that all the local buses were being used to ferry voters in and out of town (if you’re registered to vote in Chile you can be fined for not voting so the buses were popular) and I had to go with a tour. It was more expensive but Manuel the driver was full of useful titbits. Judging by how many times he honked his horn, he seemed to know just about everyone on the island.

Chiloe or Ireland? Photo Natasha Young

After a 40 minute drive from Ancud through rural farm land and protected wildlife areas, we drove onto a rugged windswept beach fiercely guarded by giant seagulls. Local fishermen doled out the lifejackets and giant waterproof ponchos (you clearly have to look you best for the dinner-jacketed residents) and in choppy waters we headed to the Pinguinera Puñihuil.

These three tiny islands of the coast are the penguin equivalent of a small town nightclub on a Saturday night. If you are a penguin and you need some loving, Chiloe is where you come. This is the only place in the world where Magellanic penguins from the south and Humboldt penquins from the north meet. Though you might think this might be a West Side Story of bar brawls and wounded egos, they seem to get along long pretty well. However as Pedro the fisherman made startlingly clear with a range of insightful hand gestures, they are only friendly up to a point. There will be no inter-species marriages on this rock anytime soon.

After a short but delightful half an hour of penquin, otter, cormorant, gull and sea crow spotting, our time was up and we headed back to the beach for empanadas de loco (abalone in English, apparently). I left with few decent photos of the penguins. It was one of those moments when I realised that I could try in vain to take photos from afar with no professional lens or I could just enjoy watching these fabulous creatures in their natural habitat. I went for the latter. Look them up on google if you want a proper gander.

Curanto. Photo Natasha Young

In the afternoon I finally got my first taste of Curanto and a personal guided tour of Ancud from Juan, a Santiago Couchsurfer who grew up in Chiloe and was back for the weekend. Ancud is a wonderful wee place, full of rugged empty beaches, wildlife and colourful houses. For me though, Ancud wil always be the place where I got to watch the waddling gait of those tiny penguins.

I’ll leave you in Castro where the sun is doing its level best to shine and I have just had one of the best meals of my life - Cerviche de Erizo (that’s raw sea urchin for you Brits). If you want to know how much I liked it, check out my happy, contented little face.  

Loving the Cerviche de Erizo.

Palafitos in Castro, Chiloe. Photo Natasha Young

Travel Blog: Salmon, Sleep & Cycling in Puerto Varas, Chile

Puerto Varas - Photo Natasha Young

Today I heard something I hadn’t heard for a really long time. Silence. No shouting Chinese neighbours, no karaoke, no drilling, no hooting traffic, no reggaeton; just the faint sound of the wind, buzzing insects and birds flapping their wings. It was marvellous.

Having left the big bad city, I arrived in Puerto Varas yesterday afternoon. A short bus ride from the cement factories, pointless grafitti and electricity pylons of Puerto Montt (think Slough or Stoke with a lake), Puerto Varas is a world away; the North Face 80 lucas kagool to Puerto Montt’s one luca non-waterproof copy. Humming to the sound of lawnmowers and smelling quite literally of roses, at first glance it looks and smells like green and cloudy England, albeit with two giant volcanoes towering over it, a whiff of wood smoke rather than chicken tikka and plenty of German architecture.

Photo Natasha Young

First stop was lunch and if ‘Donde El Gordito’ is good enough for Anthony Bourdain, it’ll do for me. Small and pokey like a train carriage with frilly net curtains and a dazzling collection of tat, coins and pens, this is the place to come for seafood. When everyone else goes to Argentina, they coo and fuss about the size and quality of the steaks and as a non-red meat eater, I always feel a bit left out. Now it’s my turn. Expect me to return home very very clever as I intend to eat kilos of fish while I’m down here. At ‘El Gordito’ I was served a piece of salmon the size of a small country smothered in a garlic, coriander, prawn and pepper sauce. It was utterly delicious but rich and intensely garlicy. As I left the restaurant, people were actually crossing the street to avoid me exhaling. I cleared shops it was so bad.

I think that's clear gentlemen. Photo Natasha Young

I’d gone out of the way to search for Hostel Casa Azul – it sounded great- but it was one of those places that reminded me that unless you’re totally chilled you really shouldn’t open a hostel. The bed was comfy, the showers were good and the people were friendly enough, but there were signs everywhere. ‘Don’t leave your dishes here’, ‘No cooking fish’ (and this in a lake town famous for salmon), ‘No use of kitchen until 12 noon’, ‘Be careful with the shower curtain’ etc etc. I fear if I opened a hostel I would be equally intolerant and start showing Northern Europeans how to rinse their dishes after they’ve smothered them in washing-up liquid and tutting at people who left towels on the floor.

Refreshed this morning, I did what I always do when I’m alone and somewhere pretty. I hired a bike. With no map but some decent instructions, I did a 25km loop along the side of the lake and then cross-country on a hilly dirt road with volcano views that brought me back into Puerto Varas. I saw hardly anyone the whole time I was out, a reminder that although Chile is much bigger than the UK it has only a fraction of the population and most of them live in Santiago. Away from the road, the silence was total. A precious thing after years of city living.

Puerto Varas town centre Photo Natasha Young

Later this afternoon I’ll be heading to Ancud on the rainy island of Chiloe. With any luck whilst my Chilean friends are voting in tomorrow’s general election, I’ll be gawping at penquins. Can’t imagine that tonight will be a late one. All the bars and bottle shops in Chile will therotically be closed tonight for the 24 hours of the election. It’s a nice enough idea that shows a new-found and much needed respect for the democratic process, but it’s not friendly to those folks who are just passing through town on a Saturday night and want to sample the local beer.

See you all in Ancud. Let’s hope there are penquins.

p.s. This trip is sponsored by Pia (rucksack), BB (waterproof) and Lya (camera). Thanks!

p.p.s. It’s true. The Southerners are more friendly.

Revolver: Shoe-Gazers of the World Unite – The Indie Kid’s Guide to Santiago

Photo courtesy http://www.flickr.com/photos/adactio/ / CC BY 2.0

If you come from a place where skinny boys in even skinnier jeans roam the earth with low-slung guitars, shoes means Converse All Star and alternative music means anything from Fleet Foxes to Franz Ferdinand or Forward Russia, you might be a bit disappointed with Santiago.  

Reggaeton rules the dancefloors and airwaves here and at first glance, it can seem as if the city offers slim pickings for shoe-gazing Smiths fans.

Indie-lover Rodgrio Elgueta sums up the scene by saying “In Santiago, you have to go out and look for good music, it won’t find you.”

However, help is at hand. We’ve scoured the internet and the dimly-lit back streets, twiddled with the radio dial, spoken to the DJs, promoters and fans so that you need never hear Daddy Yankie again.

The internet is your friend

First up, get online. Some of the best nights in town don’t happen every week and even Blondie has been known to sack off indie in favour of ‘Madonna night’ or ‘non-stop Britney’. Our advice is to join the Facebook groups for the bars and club nights listed below and keep your pretty, well-trained musical ears to the ground.

For new music releases, gigs and interviews, you should also check out: www.super45.net, www.extravaganza.cl/, www.192.cl, and www.nnm.cl is one for the nu-ravers. If you’re near hysterical with excitement on the eve of a big gig, go to the forums at www.last.fm. It’s quick off the mark for announcing upcoming tours too.

Clubs & Bars

 Blondie

Blondie, the behemoth of indie and gay clubbing in Santiago, was closed down by the mayor at the start of winter 2009 and rumours abound as to when they’re re-opening. When it does, Blondie will be your Mecca. One huge room moves to the beat of Britpop and New Wave (be warned: they really, really like Depeche Mode here) while two smaller dance floors can play host to anything from cheesy gay anthems to live bands and 80’s pop. While the club is out of action, Blondie has been hosted nights across the city and it has a little sister by the sea in Valpo.

(Alameda 2879 (Metro: Latinoamercana)

Open: Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays 11pm – 5am)

www.blondie.cl

Facebook group: fiestas blondie 2.0

Facebook petition for the re-opening of Blondie: No a la Clausura de Blondie!

CHECK LISTINGS FOR LOCATION OF BLONDIE NIGHTS

Bal le Duc

Home to an older, straighter crowd than Blondie, you could be forgiven for thinking that this is the club that time forgot. 80’s and 90’s pop feature heavily here, which means there’s usually a good helping of Morrissey, Pulp, New Order and, yes you’ve guessed it, Depeche Mode. Spread out over two floors, the goths and industrial fans often get given their own room to brood in.

Av Matta 129 (Metro Irarrazaval)

Open: Fridays and Saturdays

www.bal-le-duc.cl     

www.club-under.cl

Facebook group: bal-le-duc

 Bar El Ático

This is where your people have been hiding. Behind an unassuming doorway in Nunoa is the promised land for indie music buffs. Here, the DJs not only know who Sonic Youth are, they play them too. Stairs take you up to the spacious bar, where local 20 and 30 somethings lounge around on black and red sofas and drink Brahma for a luca. Videos provide the soundtrack, while downstairs on the weekend you can throw shapes to the likes of Interpol, Arcade Fire, CSS and Dead or Alive. The dance floor is miniscule and it’s smoky as hell but who cares when it’s this good. Join their Facebook group for weekly updates.

Irarrázaval 1060, Ñuñoa (between Salvador & Infante)

Open: Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays 9pm – late

www.barelatico.cl

Facebook group: Bar El Ático

 Club Cultura Alternativa

If you like your men to wear eye-liner or your women to wear kinky boots and PVC (even when they do their weekly shop at Jumbo), this is the place for you. Tucked away on a back street in Providencia, Club Cultura Alternativa is a bolt-hole for those who like it dark. A bar for pre Bal-le-Duc drinks, CCA plays Dark Wave, Industrial and Goth. Although you might hear anything from Front 242 to Bauhaus, you’re more likely to get a dose of Suicide Commando or Combichrist. Leave your neon sweatbands at home.

Calle Credito Nº471, Providencia (Metro: Santa Isabel)

Open Wednesday – Saturday 8pm to late

http://www.myspace.com/club_cca

Facebook group: Club Cultura Alternativa

After Hours Bars (Clandestinos)

Back in the 90’s, indie and metal bars were ten a penny in Ñuñoa. Then came the property boom and suddenly bars and clubs were being forced out and alcohol licenses became harder to find than a 25 year old Chilean that doesn’t live with his mum. Thankfully that didn’t stop the party people of Santiago. Over the years, a string of illegal after-hours clubs (clandestinos) have reportedly sprung up in old buildings across the city. We can’t tell you where they are, but we’ve heard that some of them play the best music in the city until very late. Next time you’re out and have overdone the Red Bull, ask like-minded locals where to go next, or look out for people flyering at kicking-out time. Most don’t get busy until around 5am and go on until 9am.

Bar Constitución

If you can put up with the high drinks prices, pretentious bar staff and the scary woman who controls the toilets with her all-seeing eyes and an iron mop, Bar Constitución in Bellavista can sometimes delight. Go there on the right night and you’ll get the Ting Tings, the Killers and Kaiser Chiefs. If your luck’s out, you’ll get bad techno and a middle-aged software engineer trying to feel you up.

Calle Constitución 61, Bellavista (Metro: Banqueadano)

Open Tuesday – Saturday 8pm – 5am

www.barconstitucion.cl/

Facebook group: Bar Constitucion

Other venues that sometimes host indie nights, bands or play a few good tunes are:

 Club Dominica (www.clubdominica54.cl), El Clan (www.elclan.cl), Club Miel (www.clubmiel.cl), Batuta (www.batuta.cl) Loreto (Facebook group: Bar/Club Loreto), El Tunel (www.eltunel.cl) and Club Mist (www.myspace.com/elclubmist).

Promoters/One-off nights

Xpress Music Chile

Join these people on Facebook and they will annoy by sending you a million messages per day, but you will forgive them. Why? Because these young whipper-snappers put on blinding indie nights around town and they know their stuff. We went to their ‘MusikNonStop’ party back in August and wept real tears of gratitude on the dancefloor. Not only did they play the likes of Foals, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah!, My Bloody Valentine and Vampire Weekend, but they had a Sigur Ros special. Sigur Ros I tell you! Ok so we felt about a zillion years old and had to be helped back to our chairs when we over-exerted ourselves to Hot Chip, but it was fabulous. Xpress Music Chile: we salute you.

Facebook groups: Express Music Chile and Indie Music Chile

Radio

If you’re just getting cueca, reggaeton and salsa out of your radio, you’re just not twiddling your knob right. Top of the pile is Radio Horizonte who will wake you up with Death Cab, Yeah Yeah Yeahs and Radiohead.

Radio Horizonte 103.3 (www.horizonte.cl), Radio Concierto 88.5 (www.concierto.cl), Play FM 100.9 (www.playfm.cl), Radio Zero 97.7 (www.radiozero.cl), Radio Futuro 88.9 (www.futuro.cl), Radio Activa 92.5 (www.radioactiva.cl), Tiempo 95.9 (www.fmtiempo.cl), Radio Universo 93.7 (www.universo.cl), Duna 89.7(www.duna.cl), Rock & Pop 94.1 (www.rockandpop.cl).

So my guitar-loving friends, step away from the empanadas. You’ve got skinny jeans to squeeze into. Put all that bumping and grinding behind you, let’s go dance to Joy Division.

Read it on Revolver here.

Blog: Things I Don’t Understand About Chile

photo by Diegosaurius Rex

I like understanding things. I get a kick out of knowing how life works. I’ve think I’ve made a pretty good job of adapting to Chilean culture but there are some things I just still don’t get. I’m not criticizing; I’m just trying to figure how the world works down here. While we’re at it, if you can explain why we English always think we’re going to win the World Cup or why we’re utterly incapable of having a good time without alcohol, I’d love to hear it.

 But back to Chile. After almost a year of residing in this lovely country, these are the things that still fox me:

1. If you don’t sell it, why not?

‘We don’t do photocopies/sell cigarettes/have bread, don’t insist’ says the massive sign in the window. If so many people are annoying you by coming in to ask, why not just do whatever it is and make some cash?

 2. How can anyone afford to get sick?

Everyone talks about the scandalous cost of getting sick in the U.S. but it’s no better here. If you’ve got ‘public’ health insurance, you still have to pay to go and see the doctor. If they don’t know what’s wrong with you and they order tests, those have to be paid for too. Even a simple vaccination needs a prescription and contraceptive pills don’t come cheap. In fact nothing is. I used to earn four times more in England that I do here but I paid less at the chemist and visits to the doctor and the hospital were free. I have absolutely no idea how the average family affords it.

3. How do you go to the bank if you have a job?

Going to the bank in Chile is like going to the deli anywhere else only less fun. A little machine spits out a number and then you look up in horror to see that you’ve got 354 and they’re serving number 12. I once waited 3 hours to pay a cheque in at a bank in the city centre. 3 hours. Who gets a lunch break that long?

4. Does low blood pressure exist in this country?

Watching a Chilean eat salad is a scary business. In the time it takes to explain the finer points of the uses of the subjunctive in Spanish, they’ll all the while be drowning their lettuce in salt as if trying to deal with an aggressive invasion of slugs. If lunchtimes in the canteen are anything to go by, Chilean families must get through kilos and kilos of the stuff. The nation’s blood pressure must surely be through the roof. It’s not just salt either. In some cafes and restaurants, coffee, tea and juice come laden with sugar. They don’t ask they just bring it that way; thick enough to stand you spoon in and sweet enough to make your teeth just give up and fall right out of your mouth. Frankly, how is anyone still alive?

5. Would you like a dildo with that?

It makes me smile but I don’t get it. Across the road from work is a chemist/sex shop. The connection has been eluding me all year. You nip to the pharmacy for some cough syrup for the kids and while you’re there you pick up the latest issue of ‘Big Jugs’. Is it genius or is it weird? You decide.

6. Why are men proud that they can’t cook?

In English class today, four men answered the question ‘When was the last time you cooked a meal?’ Two of them had to ask me how to say ‘nunca’. Never. They had never cooked a meal in their lives. One of them was 22, the other 37. Student number 3 cooked sometime last month and the other one eventually remembered that he had rustled up some sausages during a camping trip last year. If all the women in the world were wiped out tomorrow, along with all the fast food joints, would they still be proud of being utterly incapable of sustaining themselves?

 7. Why is the unemployment rate not zero?

Go into any large shop and there will be 57 people behind the counter, 56 of whom will be talking to their mum on the phone. The person who eventually puts down their magazine to serve you will not be able to help you. In the supermarket, there will 5 security guards to every 1 cashier and a queue long enough to mean that you’ll have eaten all your shopping by the time you get to the front. They don’t want you to nick anything but they don’t seem to want you to buy anything either. With this many positions available and a relatively small population, how is anyone unemployed?

Photo by austinevan

8. Why are books expensive and cigarettes and alcohol so cheap?

Learning is evil and wrong but killing yourself is to be encouraged. At least that’s the message the Government’s taxation system seems to be sending. Books are obscenely expensive here and yet booze and fags are cheap as chips. An English copy of the Lonely Planet ‘Guide to South America’ costs the equivalent of £35 in Santiago yet about £15 on Amazon. A new hardback novel will set you back about £25 and this in a country where many earn less than £200 a month.

9. Why so much bureaucracy?

Is no one to be trusted? And if so, why not? Am I naïve in my belief that the Chileans are an honest up-standing bunch? Here it’s not enough to have a document translated and stamped by a foreign embassy. It must then be checked and stamped by the Ministry of the Exterior and further perused for months by a bevy of fact-checkers. Saying you went to university just doesn’t pass muster here. Your degree certificate must be stamped within an inch of its life and even then it’ll be met with a raised eyebrow of suspicion. Why is nobody as good as their word?

10. Why does everyone walk so slowly and why does it annoy me so much?

Chileans will tell you that everyone is in a hurry in Santiago. Nothing could be further from the truth. On the way back from lunch with my colleagues, I used to walk as slowly as I possibly could without actually stopping but it was impossible to keep pace. I would stop every few yards to find them way behind. I know it’s rude but in the end I gave up. It’s just not in my DNA to dawdle. I need momentum to stop myself from just falling over. Here people stop for a chat at the top of the escalators on the Metro during rush hour, walk four abreast holding hands and all the time in the firm believe that they are busy cosmopolitan people with jobs to get to. A woman the other day was walking so slowly she must have got to work just in time to turn round and go back. Why are they so slow and why am I always in such a rush, even when I’m not?

Answers on a postcard please or your comments below.

Indie Travel Podcast Magazine: Valparaíso – Pirates and Poets in the Jewel of the Pacific

Valparaíso, a 90 minute bus ride from Santiago, is like a downmarket prostitute living next to more refined and glamorous neighbours. Compared to Viña del Mar a few miles along Chile’s coast, she’s shabby, filthy and good for a laugh. Once one of the most important seaports in the world, it’s no wonder sailors and pirates kept coming back for more.

I took a bus from Santiago to this ramshackle port and fell instantly in love. Higgledy-piggledy houses, each more brightly coloured than the next, perched on steep hillsides overlooking the Pacific. A world away the smog and sterile malls of the Chilean capital, Valpo – as it’s affectionately known – was a jumble of architectural styles and peeling paint.

A short walk from the bus terminal stood the Cardinal Market. Traders spilled out onto the street, selling fat carrots, courgettes and fresh herbs out of boxes and shopping trolleys. Shouts of ‘Bueno, bonito, barato!’ (good, nice and cheap!) filled the air as housewives haggled over the size of their pumpkin slices and snoozing cats guarded the tomatoes. Inside, stray dogs salivated over strings of chorizo dangling tantalisingly out of reach and flies buzzed around the vats of olives and slabs of goat’s cheese.

I followed my nose up to El Rincon de Pancho on the second floor, a restaurant favoured by locals who come here for the fresh fish specials. I nabbed a seat by the window and dunked bread into a huge, steaming bowl of mussels, clams and prawns in a sizzling fish stock. I munched happily as hawkers tried to sell me calculators and nail clippers and troubadours sang sea shanties at my table for a few coins.

The downtown area teemed with life. Old-fashioned grocers measured freshly-ground coffee into little white packets and shoe-shiners worked up a sweat as they polished. Hotels offered rooms with double beds and video at an hourly rate. The metallic sound of cranes loading up ships at the dock was a reminder that this is still very much a working port town. I kept expecting to see Popeye arm-wrestling Bluto around every corner.

Away from the noise and clamour, it’s Valpo’s hills (Cerros) that make the city famous. Antique funicular elevators creaked and clanked their way up the steep inclines to the labyrinth of streets and pretty houses above. I took Ascensor Concepción up to Paseo Gervansoni and spent a contented afternoon getting lost among the narrow allies, admiring the painted murals and sneaking glances over my shoulder at the shimmering sea below.

Chilean friends had warned me of the dangers of wandering the hills at night. Having lingered rather too long in the craft shops, boutiques and cafés of Cerro Alegre, I suddenly found myself alone in the gathering gloom on a badly-lit staircase with a man drinking wine from a tetra pack ahead of me. With rising panic, I clutched onto my rucksack. “Where are you from?” he rasped as he lurched towards me. My heart sank. “Manchester, England”, I mumbled. “Manchester! What about Ronaldo? Can you believe that he’s going to Real Madrid for 80 million? What a traitor”. We nodded in agreement for a moment, before he asked me if I liked Valparaíso. “Very much,” I smiled in relief as I continued on my way, “very much”.

After checking into Hostal Caracol on Cerro Bellavista (where the spacious dorms and outdoor bbq area made up for the indifferent service), I headed out for an old-fashioned knees up. First stop was Casino Royal J Cruz. With a strong smell of chip fat and wall to wall glass cabinets laden with trinkets and oddities, this friendly restaurant was like an mad old lady’s living room, albeit with graffiti on the tablecloths. A favourite haunt of students, the plump, smiley waitresses were only serving one thing -  Chorillana – a huge plate of chips, onion, scrambled egg and fried beef. It may have looked like a heart attack waiting to happen, but by God it was tasty.

A block or two away was Cinzano, a legendary night-spot where locals dress to the nines and shimmy away to the live music on the tiny stage. The waiters were grumpy and there was more beer sloshed on the floor that in the glasses but the atmosphere alone made it worth a visit.

The next morning I climbed Cerro Bellavista to pay my respects to one of the cities most famous ex-residents, Pablo Neruda. Described by Gabriel Garcia Marquez as “the greatest poet of the 20th century in any language”, Neruda’s quirky hilltop house is now open as a museum. It’s an impressive piece of real estate. There on the top floor, with a sweeping view of the bay, sat the old desk where he penned much of his Nobel prize-winning verse. Neruda loved this city, writing in his ‘Ode to Valparaíso’:  “Crazy port… Never time to put your clothes on.. Death has caught you naked with only a hat, and a name tattooed on your belly”. It’s a fine way to describe this fur coat and no knickers kind of town, whose residents, like the place itself, are a little rough around the edges but well worth getting to know.

Info:

There are no direct flights to Valparaíso from England. Flights to Santiago from London cost from £690 return in December and take about 18 hours depending on airline and connections. Regular buses leave Santiago for Valparaíso from the Pajaritos Bus Station and cost around 7,000 return. The journey takes an hour and a half. A double room at Hostal Caracol (Hector Calvo 371, Cerro Bellavista.  Tel: +56 32 2395817 www.hostalcaracol.cl). costs 26,000 pesos or 8,000 for a dorm bed. For a room with a view, Zero Hotel (Lautaro Rosas 343, Cerro Alegre. Tel: +56 32 211 3113 www.zerohotel.com ) has suites for 169,000 pesos. The Gran Hotel Gervasoni which has been beautifully restored has rooms from 102,000 pesos (Paseo Gervasoni 1, Cerro Concepción. Tel: +56 32 223 9236 www.hotelgervasoni.com).

Weather:

Spring and Summer are the best times to visit (October to March) and the New Year’s Eve firework display over the bay is legendary. Book hotel rooms well in advance for Dec 31^st and beware, prices go off the scale. June is the rainiest month and it can be cold and cloudy during the winter (June – August).

Read it here at Indie Travel Podcast Magazine.

Matador: Why British Food Isn’t As Bad As You Think

Photo by avlxyz

It’s easy to assume that we Brits don’t care about food. While our neighbours the French enjoy long leisurely lunches and fine wines in elegant restaurants, we eat our main meal at the bus stop, drink our own body weight in warm lager and then cradle a kebab on the way home like it’s our only friend. We consider chips and curry sauce a square meal and we do unspeakable things to peas.

But many of us love food, really we do. In fact, Britain is a haven for foodies if you know where to look. Thanks to immigration, our lack of culinary snobbishness and our willingness to try anything once, you can find anything you want in the supermarkets on this rainy isle. Even better, unlike Rome or Madrid, you can literally eat your way around the world in London.

However, if you’re keen to sample more traditional British fare, here’s what to look for:

1. Fish & Chips

Saying you’ve had British food after trying fish and chips in Leicester Square is like claiming you know all about Italian Cuisine after eating in Pizza Hut. Instead, do it properly at The Fish Club  in Clapham Junction where you can get Red Mullet and Sweet Potato chips to go with your mushy peas. Otherwise, head to the coast and look for any traditional ‘chippie’ where the queue snakes out of the door.

2. Bangers & mash

Nobody does comfort food better than us. On a miserable cold day with a hangover to mop up, sausages, mashed potatoes and gravy are just the ticket. In London, The S&M Café  in Islington is the place. Film buffs may recognise it as the café used in the Mod classic Quadrophenia.

 3. Chicken Tikka Massala & Basmati Rice

 No-one in Indian has ever heard of our number 1 favourite dish. Lovingly made just for us, the chicken is marinated in yoghurt and spices before being cooked in a creamy tomato sauce and sprinkled with fresh coriander. Most British expats would sell their own families to get hold of one of these bad boys.

Check out The Good Curry Restaurant Guide to discover the best Indian English joints.

 4. Traditional English breakfast

If you’re planning on pounding the streets all day, this is for you. The breakfast of champions and fat workmen, fried eggs, sausage, bacon, mushrooms, bread and tomatoes are followed by toast and tea. Finish it and you’ll never need to eat again. Ever.

5.Ploughman’s Lunch

Britain and Ireland produce some of the best cheeses in the world and that’s a fact ladies and gentlemen.  Look out for strong mature Cheddar, crumbly Wensleydale with Cranberry or blue Stilton. Order a pint of real ale and a ploughman’s lunch (cheese, bread and pickles) at the Mark Addy in Manchester and you’ve got the real deal.

 6. Scottish Salmon, Jersey potatoes and Norfolk crab

You’ll forgive the Scots for their deep-fried Mars Bars when you taste their salmon. Best served with new potatoes and a salad, Scottish trout is pretty damn fine too. For succulent crab, head to Norfolk on the East Coast of England.

7. Beer & Pub Grub

If you want to learn about England, go to the pub. Get a drink down a cold stuffy Englishman and before your very eyes he’ll turn into a loquacious comedian. Buy him a couple more and he’ll dance on your table with his underwear on his head.

 Besides the in-house entertainment, the pub is the place to sample Britain’s one true passion; beer. Traditional hand-pulled English bitter is darker than lager and an acquired taste. If you like it, let The Good Pub Guide or Camra’s Good Beer Guide show you the way.

 To soak up some of the alcohol, rich meaty casseroles like Beef Wellington or Lancashire Hotpot are just the thing.

8.Sunday Lunch

It takes some preparing but by God it’s good. Whether you plump for roast beef and Yorkshire pudding (small rounds of thick pancake batter which are baked and smothered with gravy), lamb with mint sauce, pork with apple or chicken with sage and onion stuffing, this is a feast made for sharing. Crack open a bottle of wine and then sleep it off in front of the TV. If you really can’t make your own, The Albion  in London’s Islington have won awards for theirs.

9. Pudding Heaven

Sweet-toothed travellers need to come to Britain. Frankly we rock when it comes to pudding. Rhubarb crumble with Cornish vanilla ice-cream, the meringue shaped heart attack that is Eton Mess, treacle tart, the delightfully named Spotted Dick, they are all utterly delicious and unashamedly designed to make you fat. If you’re in the North, make a pilgrimage to Bakewell in the Peak District for great trekking and the hands-down mother of all desserts,  Bakewell Tart. In London, stuff your face in style at The Brew House in the grounds of a stately home.

Read it on Matador here