Valparaíso has a split personality, it’s a place of contrasts. The gritty puerto versus the artsy hills.
Monthly Archives: January, 2016
After five days in Santiago, it was time to take a break and see the Pacific Ocean again. Like many Chileans, we escaped to Valparaíso, a two-hour bus ride from the capital.
We step inside La Merced. It’s dark inside and there are people praying, or at least that’s what I assume they are doing with their heads bowed. Maybe they are eating a hot dog after all, who knows?
Santiago is way more multicultural than I remember it.
Santiago is a giant open-air market. Everywhere you go, there is someone selling something. Watermelons. Fruit salad in a cup, plastic fork included. Lottery tickets. Shoeshine services. Fortune-telling or tarot reading.
Dry air. The Andes. Dust. Hills. Heart-attack inducing prices in the thousands until you realize 5,000 Chilean Pesos are US$10.
It was quick. And brutal. This was the kind of flight were the seat belt sign stays on for the entire time and no one walks in the alley, including flight attendants.
The airport tarmac offered the first stunning view on the mountain range. I loved it. I grew up by the sea, mountainous landscapes are exotic to me.
No more jumping on beds. Seriously, guys…
I felt bad for Córdoba so after we booked the tickets, I decided to explore the city better and give it another chance.
Sometime, backpacking is like a masochist adventure between The Truman Show and The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.
Coming back to Buenos Aires felt like putting on one of your favourite old pair of jeans—I just didn’t know if they still fit.
Decisions were made, travel route were planned, credit cards were used. Time to move on.
The funny bus stops are still here, I love them. They give the city a futuristic feel: step into the magical tube and be transported somewhere else!
Fresh. Varied. Cheap. This is what I think of Brazilian food so far.
The nordeste region is hard to get to and obviously, it’s hard to get out of it as well.
Old, young, firm or jiggly, tiny or more generous, bare butts are everywhere. Brazilian women wear bikinis but not just any kind of bikini: the G-string one.
You know the story. It all started as a small fishermen village, a roadless place… and it became “the place”. As in “the beach”.
Locals tend to think Recife is this super dangerous place but I didn’t get that “must get out of here now’ vibe over there. The streets were busy and chaotic but lively and people were friendly. Deserted Natal scared me more.
We settled in Ponta Negra, one of the beach close to Natal. And like everything in Brazil, it took some time to figure things out.
When was the last time you flew for less than $30? Not this advertised price, the total price, taxes included? Yeah, never. Same here.
I wanted to learn more about Brazilians—what people eat, what they do, how they work and interact. A bit wiser and more comfortable with our surrounding, we headed back to Recife to explore the different bairros in the centre.
With its steep streets and colourful colonial buildings, Olinda reminded me of a smaller version of Antigua in Guatemala, Granada in Nicaragua, Valparaiso in Chile or Paraty in Brazil.