Chile: The Hills Have Eyes

“At its best, travel should challenge our preconceptions and most cherished views, cause us to rethink our assumptions, shake us a bit, make us broader minded and more understanding.” –Arthur Frommer

In preparing for my trip to Valparaiso, Chile, I conducted just a bit of research as compared to trips in the past. I knew that it was a colorful port city, large enough to get lost in but small enough to know the corner market owner, and had a typical amount of crime for a city its size. I didn’t feel the need to be exhaustive in my research since I had over three weeks to explore and learn on my own.

I’ve found the geography of Valpo to be interesting. On its long northern border, you find the flat, winding Pacific coast. The coast line is made up of the port, harbor, and boardwalk with a metro train running parallel to it. Adjacent to the coast, you’ll find the flat, city center with tons of markets, restaurants, banks, and anything else you’d expect in a city. On the southern side, Valpo is made up steep hills, comprising over 40 neighborhoods that they call “cerros.” To access the hills, locals either walk (which is crazy hard), use one the 30 ascensors (elevator up a track), or take a communal taxi (located where you see the long lines of people on the street). When I say communal taxi, I really mean race car. These drivers have to get up such steep and tight roads, that while on the flat ground, they gather up speed and punch it. I know this because I’ve almost been plowed over a few times. I live on the lower part of one of the hills and have to walk up it every day. The race cars come zooming around the blind curves as I frantically cross the street and hop the curb. A few times our taxi has almost been rear-ended as it was stopped at our door because we are just around the corner and the racers have begun their rapid ascension.

It’s in the hills, where I’ve read and later confirmed without solicitation from two locals, that the criminals like to play. Between all of the flights of stairs, multi levels of homes, and twisted roads, there’s plenty of hiding spots and get-away routes. The second day that I was in town, our house owner took us up one of the hills to see the solar eclipse better. While up there, he pointed to a flight of tricky stairs leading down to the hospital where there were blue lights flashing. He said if the criminals come, run down there quickly to the police. I laughed at the thought of scrambling down the stairs to evade the criminals, like in movies, thinking he was kidding. He wasn’t kidding. I stopped laughing and raised my eyebrows in shock to Samson.

The next warning of danger came from my Spanish teacher, Patricio. During my second lesson, he cautioned me about going out alone in the streets, even during the day. I was wondering if he was saying it because I’m a white girl but just two weeks ago, he said a British guy was robbed and stabbed to death at 10am in the middle of the tourist section, while with his family. His killer eluded police for a few days, but he was eventually caught.

Because of these two encounters, I was a bit nervous the other day when Patricio and I started exploring the hills behind the old prison. It was exhilarating to leave the normal path, but my senses were heightened as I took in all of the sights, smells and sounds. I noticed graffiti pleaing for the violence to stop. I was only somewhat comforted when Patricio indicated for me not to worry since the hijackers were still sleeping. As he and I continued exploring, we entered a plaza and he mentioned that I should not be here, in this plaza, at night because it wasn’t safe due to locals consuming large amounts of drugs and alcohol. That wouldn’t be a problem for me because I typically don’t go out far from home at night while traveling, especially not alone.

Except for these words of caution from our local friends, we haven’t experienced any uncomfortable or unsafe situations yet. We are smart about how we go about our day to day travels. We walk with purpose, not with bewilderment in our eyes, even if we are lost. If entering a crowded section, we clip-lock our bags. If we need to look at our phone for the map or to add to our shopping list, we pull to the side and stand watch as the other uses the phone. But these are things I would do in any large city, not just here in South America.

I’m not blind to the fact that “shit happens,” even if you’re being vigilant. I’ve read enough blogs and talked to enough travelers, that I know, at some level, it’s inevitable. When/if that time comes, I’ll seek out the help from the local friends I make because there are good people everywhere.