Some of Santiago’s metro stations are also public spaces for art or music. The Quinta Normal station is huge, and contains mural and, on the day, a photography exhibition.
Ahem. Someone in greater Santiago’s transportation department likely got an earful for ordering these blue trains, which are full car too short for the Line 1 platforms.
I. Love. The flowers. Here.
LUPINS.
Outdoor chess anyone? Near Universidad Catolica.
I’d heard about this place ever since arriving in Santiago. It lives up to the hype.
My NOW FAVOURITE thing: Lomito con palta — slow roasted, thinly sliced pork and avodaco on a bun. With fresh strawberry juice.
The church of Los Dominicos, Las Condes, Santiago.
Los Dominicos “village” contains artisans kiosks and…animals. I did a lot of Christmas shopping here, and met…
…a parrot, and…
…TWO peacocks. They’re raised for their feathers. Next time you see Elton John or Brandon Flowers wearing feathers, they may well have come from Chile!
I went in at the entrance attached to the metro station. These are called columbaria, and the majority of the old cemetery is made up of these.
Here are THREE stories of niches where relatives place urns. People then visit as you would a grave.
The cemetery is filled with statuary and fountains at the crossroads separating patios.
This is the oldest part of the cemetery, established in 1858.
The south gate(!)
Another columbarium. This is the wealthy part of the cemetery.
On the right are family mausoleums. To the left are new crypts, some from 2017.
This is a skyscraper mausoleum. Yes.
This is just north of the Allende family tomb. I couldn’t figure out who it was for; at the front of the memorial is a stand for small votive candles — there was melted and redried wax all over the pavement here.
More comumbaria…in one side of the cemetery’s original wall. The cemetery to the north of here…
…looks very different. These are “common” graves, which are repurposed for new occupant every few years. In the meantime, families visit and decorate them regularly.
Note the crosses for headstones.
This is a site for former circus performers to be buried!
I learned the facts about the dictatorship of Chile in school. I was born exactly a year after the coup making Augusto Pinochet president of Chile, and his junta the government. The dictatorship only ended when I was 15, in grade 10.
I spent my first month in Santiago simply wandering around, getting used to the city. One day, very near my apartment, I happened upon a stunning area of 19th century houses, made of two streets named Paris and Londres–after Paris and London, of course. Most of the buildings are now offices, hotels, and high-end cafes. I stood in the middle of the street that day admiring one lovely hotel, then turned around to look at the house across the street…and my brain blanked out. I didn’t understand what I was looking at. I saw cobblestones with people’s names and ages inscribed on them. The beautiful house was completely covered in rough, sprayed-on writing, saying “tortura”, “muertos,” “memoria.” It finally, sort-of clicked that, in this gorgeous, genteel enclave I had genuinely stumbled upon a site from Pinochet’s campaign of fear.
I got home, got on the internet, and looked up the address: 38 Londres.
I didn’t go back there until two days ago, and I’m leaving Chile today. First, I went to El Museo de Memoria y Derecho Humanos — the Museum of Memory and Human Rights — dedicated to showing what happened the day in 1973 when Pinochet and Chile’s military forcibly took over the country, and then what happened in Chile (and to Chileans outside the country!) until the dictatorship finally ended in 1990. It’s one of the best, most extraordinary exhibits I’ve ever seen, very effective, and affecting. It contains a bit of everything — video of newsfeeds the day of the coup, voice recordings of the president of Chile telling everyone goodbye over the radio, of Pinochet’s first address, of people recounting how they’d been interrogated, jailed, and tortured. Hundreds of photos, of people being detained, protesting, sites where “disappeared” bodies had been uncovered. Torture devices, a bent metal cross of an unknown victim buried in “Patio 29” of the General Cemetary, and pictures drawn by the children of people who’d been murdered, with “¿Donde están?” written again and again, “Where are they?”
Most of the inside of the house at 38 Londres is still empty: it’s clean, but there are holes punched in walls, exposed pipes. Near the one tiny bathroom detainees were permitted to use, a video plays, showing how a forensics team took samples–evidence–from every surface. The toilet has since been removed–everything else in the house remains exactly as it was when DINA–the army’s secret service–shut up the house and tried to hide it by changing its number to 40. The map I received explained what every room in the house had been used for. The entire second floor was for interrogating people for being “left-wing,” and then tortured. Being in that house, knowing what happened in those near-empty rooms… I can’t truly describe it. Unsettling. Moving. Overwhelming.
Just yesterday, I finally visited the General Cemetery of Santiago. The parts I most wanted to see were Salvador Allende’s tomb — which is lovely — and “Patio 29.” “Patio” in this case means “section” : the cemetery contains over 150 patios, and maps of the cemetery are marked in patios, making it easier to find gravesites. Finding Patio 29 was a bit difficult though — like 38 Londres, it appears the whole cemetery was renumbered in the past, possibly in part to hide number 29, which is now at the far northern edge of the cemetery, beside 156! They’re essentially pauper’s graves, all marked with the same bare metal crosses screwed into concrete. It’s become the site of marches by people angry that the immunity Pinochet gave himself and his junta is still in effect.
I strenuously suggest everyone visit every corner of Chile, which is mind-blowingly beautiful…and see what a dictator did this beautiful country for 17 years. It’s very, very illuminating, NOW.
The memorial in La Serena, Region IV, to people jailed, tortured, murdered, or “disappeared” during Pinochet’s rule.
La Moneda (the Coin), the former mint, and then the former seat of Chile’s government, now simply government offices. The building was bombed in the 11 September 1973 coup, with the President inside.
The Museum of Memory and Human Rights. Understandably, there is asolutely no taking of photos allowed inside the building.
The Plaza of Peace, surrounding the Museum.
The front of 38 Londres.
The beautiful, unassuming Londres street.
A boutique hotel right across the street from number 38.
Several of the paving stones in front of 38 have the names and ages of people who were tortured inside the house.
Some of the graffitti on the facade.
The graffitti is periodically washed off, and then reappears.
The entryway to 38, leading to “the pit.” The yellow message across the bottom of the doors reads: “Here my child was tortured and died.””
The tomb of El Presidente Salvador Allende, in the Cementario General.. He shot himself in La Moneda before Pinochet’s army entered.
Also in Cementario General is “Patio 29,” where unknown victims of the dictatorship were burried under “No Nombre.”
A plaque in the pavement around Patio 29.
Many of the people buried in Patio 29 have since been identified, but others have never been. Here, one cross has been inscribed with a name. The other is still blank.
I’m way behind in posting regarding my trip in October, and I return to Canada in 3 days. I lost over half my photos of La Serena, and all my photos of the Elqui Valley, and it took me ages to recover these. With a few exceptions, I’m just posting photos without captions.
The memorial in La Serena, Region IV, to people jailed, tortured, murdered, or “disappeared” during Pinochet’s rule.
OSTRICH??
I’m aghast that Chuck E Cheese’s is such a THING in Chile…
Hibiscus.
Hibiscus TREES!
Lunch: pastel de jaiba, crab and cheese pie.
The view from the restaurant.
Lots of “malls” in Chile are gallerias — an enclosed passage in between or even inside office buildings with shops on either side. It was a holiday, so this one was closed.
Path–down the middle of the highway!–to the beach.
The Faro — lighthouse of La Serena.
Sadly there was no information up anywhere about the lighthouse — how old it is, what it’s built with…
…this, unfortunately in its lack of maintenance. I don’t know if the cracks are normal wear and tear, or earthquake damage, or both.
Always incredible to witness the ocean, no matter what.
Iglesia Santo Domingo. La Serena is FULL of beautiful churches. It was exactly halfway on the route for missionaries travelling between Santiago and the Viceroy of Peru, so La Serna was their way station.
Iglesia San Francisco. The only church not have its insides completely burnt by an attack by the pirate Captain Sharp in 1680.
It’s said that when you move to a new country, there’s a honeymoon phase. Everything in the new place is, to you, exciting, different, and often magical. This will, however, at some point, be followed by phase 2: Reality.
My honeymoon phase in Santiago is over.
It began raining here about 2 am on Thursday morning. Rain was slapping against my window so hard it woke me up — I’ve been sleeping fitfully anyway because it’s cold here, which is compounded by a lack of indoor heating except with space heaters. It continued raining for a straight 26 hours! Despite experiencing flooding in the past, and regular rain in their autumn and winter, Santiago’s drainage is very poor, so there’ve been streets flooded. It was also very windy last night, and there were broken branches landing on cars. A friend who lives near Salvador metro station had part of her building’s roof fly off.
Today, Saturday, I slept in and went to have a shower at 11 am. The water was off throughout our apartment. I had been warned this happens sometimes in Santiago during winter, because the sewage system gets overwhelmed. Buildings will be told to shut off water to keep from adding to the problem. If this had been a weekday and I had to work, I’d be going there looking and smelling like an angry cat.
The water’s come back on since, but now the power is off in all the common areas of our building. We still have electricity in our flat (thank God), but my flatmate had to rescue three wet loads of clothes from the common laundry room. She’s hanging laundry off the shower curtain rod, on broom handles laid across the tub, off the curtain rod in our living room, off the backs of the stools at our breakfast bar…!
All that, plus buses with plenty of room sometimes not stopping if they don’t feel like it. And transit fares having THREE rates depending on time of travel, rush hour being TWICE as much as off-peak (what’s called “normal” time is only a bit cheaper than rush). There’s the banks closing at 2 pm every day (including, of course, pay day). I find the drinking culture here is on par with Scotland — that is, more insane than France! Sure, you CAN say no if someone offers you another drink… it’s just not DONE.
Overall, I do still like it here. Except when it rains. And this is proving to be an unusually cold, especially RAINY, autumn.
The gaping maw of darkness outside our door. Apparently the elevator still works, but I’m not trying it.
Laundry!
And more…!
….laundry.
Ice cream. With strawberry sauce. Not going outside for a warm dessert, uh uh.
At Fuente Oficial, Santiago. Most restaurants in Chile have Menu del Dia — which will come with an appetizer (or in this case, tapas!)……a main course (I went for the menu pacifico, tuna AND salmon!)……a dessert and coffee!I mistakenly bought this — ONE LITRE of PRE-WHIPPED CREAM– in a tetra pack, instead of milk!Churros. CHURROS.When a friend handed this to me, I said “What is it?” It’s called mote con huessillos, a very traditional Chilean drink + snack. At the bottom is a husked, cooked wheat and whole peach (pit still in). You eat that with the spoon, while sipping the juice, which is made of honey, water, and cinnamon. REALLY nice!Another Menu del Dia example, from a little village in the Andes. The starter was bruschetta, salad was sliced tomatoes and cucumber. Main course was Cazuela — HALF A CHICKEN, with rice, potato, corn on the cob, and squash, all in chicken broth. And dessert was…a banana!You can get mussels in a tin, like tuna! This makes me weep with happiness.This was my first asado, the Chilean barbecue. NO VEGETABLES ALLOWED.Ketchup. In a pouch. Why do I find this weird? A bottle isn’t more natural. It’s…just what I’m used to.Marraquetas, Chile’s version of sliced bread. Which is not sliced, is precisely baked to come in 4s, and is more like a bun. Perfect for chorizo at an asado, for example.I admit to being confused by some Chilean words: in any other Spanish-speaking country, this would be torte de limon, but here, it’s pie!I can’t explain how good these cookies are. I’ll let their placement in the supermarket do it: These cookies can’t be found in the cookie section…but in the chocolate section.This. This is the glorious empanada, fast food of South America. But putting this into the same category as McDonalds doesn’t do the empanada justice. They can be filled with almost anything – cheese, chicken, beef, black olives, eggs, shrimp, mussels! – and they’re available everywhere. I’m busy so I eat take-out a lot here, but take-out is usually this, and there’s nothing here to complain about.
I am a theatre junkie. Kabuki is at least as old as Shakespeare. It’s one of THE drama traditions I heard about as soon as I decided theatre was my life. Going to a kabuki play was on my must-do list while I was in Tokyo, but it was also felt, for me, like going to a cathedral and I hadn’t been to confession.
The Kabuki-za Theatre in Ginzu, Tokyo, the largest in Japan.Billboard for the show outside the theatre. Of course no photos were allowed during the show.
It was utterly amazing. It was actually four short pieces I saw, which — with intervals when you could get full meals and beer to have at your seat! — was three and half hours long. The style of acting and the men playing women (I’ll need to post about that separately—because) took some getting used to, because it’s so utterly different from any show I’ve ever seen before, and that’s part of the reason it was enthralling.
One of MANY screens hiding the stage over the performance.
Everything I felt seeing my first kabuki was wrapped up in what I’d felt earlier that day while trying to track down Oiwa…the main character in one of Japan’s creepiest ghost stories, most famous kabuki plays (I didn’t see that one, sadly), and many of the country’s successful horror films.
There are a few different versions of Oiwa’s story: here’s one of the shortest, yet best and scariest. Horror and/or Japanese film fans will recognise her likeness from the Ringu series.
I have presumed to put her into one of my stories…the short film I started work on in France over the summer, and the related feature-length screenplay I just drafted. They both concern domestic violence, culture clashes, racism, sexism, revenge, and guilt.
Theatre people are, put mildly, superstitious. We call it “The Scottish Play” or “McBoo”. We leave a “ghost light” on in the middle of the stage when the theatre is otherwise empty and dark. And in Japan, whenever an actor onstage, or an actress on film, takes the role of Oiwa, they go to her shrine in Tokyo and ask Oiwa’s permission to play her.
And that’s what I did too.
The shrine in Yotsuya, Tokyo.
The trope of the Maiden Ghost, based on Oiwa, has appeared in so many incarnations now that she’s thrown the first pitch in a baseball game. Which sounds silly, but I find it actually shows that Japan takes her as seriously as kabuki; she is embedded in Japanese culture — everyone knows her, and everyone, in a strange way, loves her. She embodies something genuinely wrong — vengeance — but it’s something everyone understands and has, at some point, wanted against someone else. I’m frightened by and enthralled by her.
I hope it’s not cultural appropriation — Gore Verbinski’s remadeRingu, quite well, I thought. Yes, I went to visit Tokyo to see the city, yes I met up with an old friend who’s been in Japan 14 years. However…I also went to Tokyo specifically to visit Oiwa’s shrine and ask “is this okay?” I hope it is.
A closer look at one grave.Cemetery behind the shrine.
