South America & Falklands - part nine

Doughty Brit braves headwind as we arrive in Valparaiso. I prefer snapping comfortably from behind the observation lounge windows.

After my close encounter with an errant ship's line (see previous posting), I decide on a restorative trip to the Valle Casablanca wine country. El Cuadro's 'Carmenere Curico Valley' is described (by those far better informed than I) as 'spicy' and 'fruity', 'smooth' and 'easy to drink'. It certainly is.

A museum evokes the beginnings of a now major Chilean industry. I like the busty young woman and humorous touch of mice and sleeping cat.

Nearby, something of the past.

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'English tailors, shoemakers, saddlers, and inn-keepers, hang out their signs in every street; and the preponderance of the English language over every other spoken in the chief streets, would make one fancy Valparaiso a coast town in Britain.' (Journal of a Residence in Chile During the Year 1822. And a Voyage from Chile to Brazil in 1823. Maria Graham)

By the early 20th Century, some ten thousand Britons lived in Valparaiso. In trade, banking, engineering, mining, railways and shipping, the British had a dominant foreign role in developing modern Chile.

When the Panama Canal opened in 1914, Valparaiso's importance as the first major Pacific port-of-call after Cape Horn ended. The British community dwindled, but some solid ghosts remain.

A statue commemorates Lord Thomas Cochrane, a remarkable British seaman, instrumental in Chile's independence from Spain. Unfortunately, the monument is now popular with graffiti artists and Valparaiso's stray dogs.

A 1910 arch, presented by the British colony to Valparaiso, imperially announces (something to the effect of), 'Hey, you couldn't have done it without us!' 

Of greater long-term usefulness (than an arch) was British backing of one of the first fire stations. The contribution is still honoured.

I can't recall any significant Canadian role in Chile, but for sometimes controversial mining and taking in Chilean political refugees during the Pinochet years. However, quite by accident, I spot the Restaurant Toronto in downtown Valparaiso. In addition to comida tipica China e internacional (typical Chinese and international food), it offers exquisitos postres. I include this, not for the 'wonderful desserts', but that Toronto should be considered exotic enough to be the name of an eatery popular with students.

More imposing is Valparaiso's Italian School, completed in 1940 when il Duce was in power. Do I detect quasi-fascist eagles?

Valparaiso's ancient trolley buses advertise the latest exhibition on the city's famous son, Pablo Neruda. He, of course, was a staunch anti-fascist. (Later: sadly, because of the problems with Minerva's breaking lines, I'm unable to visit Neruda's home)

Valparaiso street life ...

At a busy intersection, I witness the latest busking trend. Traffic stops on red, musician announces act, juggler performs and duo collects contributions before light turns green.

Parting shots - hillside houses (Che wrote of the city's 'madhouse museum beauty' and 'diversely coloured houses') ... 

... and one of the city's many wooden ascensores or funiculars. Some are a hundred years old and built with - what else? - British machinery.

South America & Falklands - part eight

I commence my visit to Valparaiso, Chile, with a cautionary tale. But, let me first remind you of my 2013: driving a road mere hours before it was hit by a killer Oklahoma tornado; experiencing a 7.1 magnitude earthquake and being sideswiped by a super-typhoon in the Philippines. I had hoped 2014 would not be similar.

The evening of our arrival in Valparaiso, I'm alone, walking towards Minerva's bow, when there's a very loud CRAAACK! It takes two or three seconds to realize what's happened. As shown in the picture above, just feet away one of the ship's lines had snapped. Large ships' lines - when they part - can slice a person in half.

One section of the offending line wraps itself around another.

You can see how the temporary passenger fencing on the dock leads forward. I had gone well beyond the fencing to check for a shuttle bus into town.

There's no one from Minerva about, so, backing off from the remaining lines, I return to the gangway and yell at one of the crew just inside the ship. In a moment or so, an officer appears on the bridge wing.

Shortly, as there are no dockers, ship's crewmen are scrambling.

Then, one of the stern lines begins to part.

The captain (in the centre) arrives on the bridge and I consider a drink for which, now that I think of it, Minerva should have paid.

Two days later, heavy swell and the ship's consequent movement mean more lines have gone.

I head into town, returning a couple of hours later for lunch. But, Minerva isn't where I left her. With so many lines mangled, the captain's decided enough. I find myself on a scruffy sightseeing boat, squeezing through a nautical traffic jam and being ferried out to Minerva, now anchored in Valparaiso Bay.

My visit to Valparaiso is cut short - but, at least, I wasn't. I have learned a very good lesson. Not even when a pedestrian path is clearly marked close to a ship's bow or stern will I go anywhere near. 

In my next posting, less unsettling activities in Valparaiso.

South America & Falklands - part seven

'Welcome to Chile,' say these hobby horses, 'Enjoy the warm weather, don't be a Canadian sourpuss!' 

I'm in Arica, scene of one of South America's major battles. Think the War of the Pacific was from 1941 to 1945? Don't tell Chileans, Peruvians and Bolivians. In 1879, during their War of the Pacific, Chile took El Morro - the substantial rock below - from Peru and claimed the town.

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Coincidentally, as Minerva crossed the maritime border between Peru and Chile, the International Court of Justice at The Hague was about to rule on the latest boundary issue involving the two countries. Peru is hoping for a legal win following its defeat in the War of the Pacific. Nationalist memories here are long. 

(Two days later: the court's ruling, affecting large fishing areas of the Pacific Ocean, largely seems to be in Peru's favour. Where I walked out of the port into Arica, a few dozen Chilean fishermen protested and were dispersed by a police water cannon.)

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Aside from ignorance of the Guerra del Pacifico, I'd no idea Gustav Eiffel so influenced a then relatively remote place on the edge of the Atacama Desert.

The 1876 cathedral, unusually made of iron, was built in Eiffel's French workshops and shipped out.

I'm quite taken by the lights, but my Spanish isn't up to discovering whether they're Eiffel's work.

The provincial government building is Eiffel's ...

... as is the customs house.

In the old railway station, I discover an equally old railway car now as motionless as the dogs.

The station is closed. In the Twenties, trains ran 1,865 miles (3,001 km) from Arica in the north to Puerto Montt in Chile's south. 

In the central market are reminders of an 1868 earthquake and tsunami that largely destroyed the town. Apologies for reflections, but I hope you get some idea of the destruction's extent.

Exploring Arica on my own is a pleasure.

This is the charming and historic Peruvian consulate.

I conclude my visit with a story told by the retired diplomat aboard Minerva. Dick Wilkinson has been British ambassador in Venezuela and Chile. Arica, he mentioned, was once sacked by Sir Francis Drake, hero to the British, pirate to the onetime Spanish colonies of South America. Nowadays, said Her Britannic Majesty's former envoy, Chilean mothers tell naughty children, 'If you don't behave, the devil Drake (el diablo Drake) will come and get you!'

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A table companion for some nights has been a real Lady what's-it, whose name I shan't mention. Ninety at a guess, she introduced herself with no mention of title and asked if she could join us. Dinner conversation turns to her uncle, Lord Kitchener, present for history's last great cavalry charge at Omdurman, and commander of the British Army in the Boer War.

As Secretary for War, Kitchener formed the 'New Armies,' later to be slaughtered on the Somme. History is now often depressingly optional at school, so Kitchener is perhaps best known as the subject of a World War One poster.

With a slew of Great War anniversaries about to commence, that of the start of the Battle of the Somme will be on July 1, 2016. I hope to be where the Newfoundland Regiment went 'over the top'. Below is a link to my most recent visit to the Western Front.

http://trainsandboatsandplanesandtheoddbus.blogspot.ca/2008/05/some-background-and-up-to-front.html