A plethora of graffiti and dogs

On hearing that Valparaiso was full of unique architecture, cobbled streets and graffiti street art I knew it was not to be missed. Declared a UNESCO world heritage site in 2003 Valpo (as its known) is a fascinating city built into the hills surrounding a harbour on the East Coast of Chile overlooking the Pacific Ocean. From an urban design point of view the city is very interesting featuring a labyrinth of streets and alleyways accessible by steep inclines or the intriguing funicular elevators (small scale highly-inclined cable cars) for which the city is famous for. There are a few famous squares and churches but the best thing to do there is just walk around the hills, marvel at the art and architecture and soak up the cultural legacy. Valpo is also well known for the amount of stray dogs roaming around (mostly sleeping in the sun during the day). I had a few slightly scarey encounters (mostly just being barked at which always sends the `rabid dog´ alarm bell off in my head having not had a rabies jab) but mostly they are harmless. I spent most of my time ambling around mostly in awe at the cute streetways and extensive range of graffiti art which i had to restrain from taking a million photos of. I also visited another residence of Pablo Neruda - La Sebastiana. Having visited his house in Santiago (La Chascona), i was interested to see what this one had in store. An icon of Chilean poetry and also an important political figure, Neruda was also known for his collections of random objects ranging from door knobs to kitsch coloured glass, books and maps to dolls and other bric-a-brac, anything that he found to take a fancy to. These items are displayed across his difference residences in Chile and give each place its own uniqueness. Neruda was quoted saying that food and drink tastes better when taken from coloured glass! La Sebastiana was built into the hill in the form of a ship and the wooden interior also adds to this effect. With large panoramic windows, Neruda would have had an awesome view across the city and over the harbour and it was easy to imagine him sitting in his favourite leather `cloud chair´ looking out to sea and writing poetry with his signature green ink (spots of which can be seen spilt onto a foot stall).

Ode to Bicycles...

I was walking
down
a sizzling road:
the sun popped like
a field of blazing maize,
the
earth
was hot,
an infinite circle
with an empty
blue sky overhead.

A few bicycles
passed
me by,
the only
insects
in
that dry
moment of summer,
silent,
swift,
translucent;
they
barely stirred
the air.

Workers and girls
were riding to their
factories,
giving
their eyes
to summer,
their heads to the sky,
sitting on the
hard
beetle backs
of the whirling
bicycles
that whirred
as they rode by
bridges, rosebushes, brambles
and midday.

I thought about evening when the boys wash up,
sing, eat, raise
a cup
of wine
in honour
of love
and life,
and waiting
at the door,
the bicycle,
stilled,
because
only moving
does it have a soul,
and fallen there
it isn´t
a translucent insect
humming
through summer
but
a cold
skeleton
that will return to
life
only
when it´s needed,
when it´s light,
that is,
with
the
resurrection
of each day.