Viña Del Mar

The next morning arrives a little too early for me, the night being full of the drunken hippies making ridiculous amounts of noise and mess. But with my bus going back to Sanitago later in the afternoon, I force myself to take one last trip up the lifts to see the ‘Gallery in the Sky’ – an open-air display of art. But call me stupid, or call me blind, because I once again find myself stumbling around, finding nothing.

The streets in town still aren’t really busy, despite being a Monday, but lots of students are moving around, hopefully doing something. Wanting to make the most of the coastline, I decided to take the train to Viña Del Mar, but it seems you need a card to travel, and they are a little too expensive for just one trip. So I jump on a minibus and let the warm sun melt the chill in the air as I make my way there.

I watch as a young boy hangs from the front door of our ride, shouting out our destination and trying to get more passengers for his driver. He can’t be more than 15 years old, and I wonder if this will be the start of a career, or just a way of avoiding school. We zoom along at break-neck pace and in no time at all, I am thrown me out at the main square where I walk up to the Palacio Vergara.

I think that it must be seniors’ day though, because the grounds have been filled with bus-loads of them who are moving about slowly. The main building is of course closed, being the first day of the week, but there is a strangely modern amphitheatre behind, that fills in some more time.

Known for its plants and greenery, Viña is dotted with plant pots and trees, but it is also home to a fair share of tin-shaking beggars who line the river crossing (well, that’s what it looks like on the map, but actually there is no water below, just a crude dusty carpark). Horse and carts follow me up the 12 blocks to the main stretch of beach and as I turn onto the waterfront, I instantly think of Port Melbourne and St Kilda.

High-rise apartment blocks wait silently for the summer again, with a handful of markets stalls and a wooden boardwalk winding a path along the back of the sand. I soon stop to grab some lunch, realising that there is not much else to see here, and think that a nice salad and some reading might calm my tired nerves. But the first place I visit, despite its extensive menu, only has ham and cheese toasties, cakes, and ice cream on offer, so I am forced to move further up after only one drink.

Aptly named “Enjoy Viña Del Mar”, the next restaurant is probably the only place that you will do such, this time of the year. Its slick stainless steel and white décor makes it stand out from its position on a tiny inlet, and I order what turns out to be the biggest latte I have ever had. I gladly let it run down my throat as I read my book in the sun and consider that some places are probably only best when enjoyed in warmth.