Valparaiso: Paradise my arse

Crime infested, dilapidated piss-smelling shithole, or bohemian cultural epicentre of Latin America? Verdict: a bit of both!  

In the end, Valparaiso won me over. When I arrived I instantly took a disliking to the place, but that’s probably because the bus drops you off a couple of miles outside the centre in a very run down and dodgy part of town. Plus, I’d read and heard too many bad stories about tourists being robbed and I think it instantly made me feel uncomfortable walking the little streets and alleys. A lot of tourists don’t visit here out of fear. But, like anywhere, as long as you keep your wits about you and don’t put yourself in risky situations, there’s no reason to worry. And I certainly didn’t experience or see any trouble while i was there. 

To learn more about the city, and so as not to wander on my own, I joined a free walking tour. There’s so much amazing street art in Valparaiso, so a lot of the tour focusses on the messages behind this, with the political situation obviously taking centre stage. 


The city is very run down and rough around the edges. But it does have a certain charm, given all of the colourful houses dotted around the hills.

That evening I did a bar tour with a local, Victor. We started with a pisco sour in Cafe Vinilo, the oldest Pisco bar of Valparaiso, before heading to a local bar called El Canario where we were lucky enough to enjoy some live music. Not a tourist in sight in this place, which I liked. It’s here that we bump into two of his friends, Eduardo and his Mexican friend Mara. This is where my downhill spiral commences. Victor leaves around 10 and I decide to carry on with my new best pals (who I was assured were very trustworthy people). By this point I’ve completely changed my mind about Chilenos. When you get to know them on a personal level, they’re lovely people. The locals tell me they appear cold and unfriendly due to years of oppression (given the country was once a dictatorship). 

Fast forward a couple of hours and it’s a lock in. We finish our beer and Eduardo offers to drop me back to my hotel in his van. At this point I have to choose between the lesser of two evils. Get in the van with Mara and Eduardo (who is clearly under the influence) or walk home alone and risk violent robbery. I chose option 1. As soon as we’re in the car, Eduardo insists on a city tour. So we swing by Mara’s house, pick up a hip flask full of Mexican tequila, and head for the hills to admire the view and chat shit before he drops me home at 230. I love evenings like this, when you end up on a totally random unplanned adventure. I’m glad I speak Spanish, as this would never have happened otherwise. 

I paid for this decision the next morning. Turns out pisco sour, red wine, craft beer and tequila is not a good mix. Who knew. The 2 hour bus journey back to Santiago was horrific and I spent most of it debating where I could possibly puke should it be necessary (I settled on the front compartment of my backpack, but thankfully the need didn’t arise!)