Cerro San Cristobal

Saturday 30th April 1988

None of us were conscious until about noon. We used the hot shower – brilliant! and lazed about listening to the radio. At about 14:00 hrs. we overcame our hangovers and apathy and set off in search of the artisan market area.

We found a display of modern art in a magnificent old building with a glass domed roof. This was probably The Santiago Museum of Contemporary Art which was created in 1947 and is run by the University of Chile Faculty of Arts.

There were some pretty bizarre exhibits and we met up with a few more travellers, including Gerrard from Dublin. He had a horror story to tell about Rio de Janeiro in Brazil. He and the eight others who had shared a rented apartment in Copacabana had been robbed at gunpoint by five drug-crazed men posing as policemen.

They took practically everything that they had, packing it into a couple of their rucksacks. They almost raped a Swiss bloke, pulling down his trousers and greasing up his arse, but presumably couldn’t get it up and didn’t manage to complete the homosexual act. “I thanked my lucky stars that I am ugly and they left me alone!” quipped Gerrard.

We walked through the Parque Forestal which is a large, narrow park with a wealth of statues dotted with numerous allegedly must-see locations in downtown Santiago. It borders the Mapocho River from Plaza Baquedano, also known as Plaza Italia, all the way to Estación Mapocho, a historical building and cultural centre near the Puente Cal y Canto metro station. Mercado Central, La Vega, and the Bellas Artes museum are some of the other major destinations located in or adjacent to Parque Forestal.

We continued up the Pío Nono to the funicular railway station at the base of the massive Cerro San Cristobal (San Cristobal Hill) which rises up from the centre of Santiago and houses the city’s largest public park. At the top of the hill are several spacious terraces and lookouts from which one can take in the breadth of the capital from the peace of the hill’s greenery, high above the hustle and bustle of downtown.

The hill is accessed from its base in Barrio Bellavista, from which one can reach the top either by car, via the road that winds up the hill, or the ascensor (elevator or funicular), which carries visitors up the length of the hill and offers a variety of views along the way. One can also opt to walk up the hill via the auto-access road, though this is not recommended as the road is not geared toward pedestrians and several points along the road are quite isolated.

The girls took the train up while the rest of us walked up the winding dirt track to the statue of the Virgin Mary on top. Once at the top of the hill, one can explore the many different vantage points for viewing the city and the Andes from the Terraza Bellavista, as well see the 14-metre-high Virgin Mary statue and adjacent outdoor church up close.

The city spread out into the distance below us, dimly seen through the haze of smog. At the base of the statue was a caged collection of memorabilia from Pope John Paul II’s visit in April 1987. Lower down there was a statue of the crucifixion scene.

We sat on the steps as the light faded and the temperature dropped. The city lights winked on as we walked briskly down and back through the evening crowds along the Avenida O’Higgins. A huge picture of Arnold Schwarzeneggar stares down from one of the cinemas which was showing “The Running Man”.

When we got back to our room we just lolled around until Gerrard, Robert from Texas and I decided to go out and get something to eat. It was practically impossible to find somewhere that did something other than hot dogs, hamburgers, fried chicken or mini pizzas.

In the end we gave up and took the special offer hot dog and beer package offered by all of the cafés. We walked on down to the Bella Vista area (Pío Nono) and after a perusal of the jewellery stalls, we sat at a pavement bar drinking pints of lager while a folk group hammered out local music on flutes, guitars and drums. Gerrard hopefully bought some chocolate for a Chilean bird (girl) on the next table but she wasn’t interested.

At 02:00 hrs. the bars closed, which was a relief as we were beginning to shiver with the cold. On our walk back we came across a crumpled car smashed into a shuttered shop front. A trail of blood drips meandered down the road away from the wreckage.

Back at the hotel I expected to find the others asleep but they were sitting around a candle surrounded by empty pisour and wine bottles, reciting Swedish nursery rhymes about frogs jumping through windows.

I nipped out and bought a bottle of red wine from a 24-hour café bar down the road and sat down to join them. Karin was giggling and babbling in Swedish for much of the time. We chatted and laughed into the small hours. The hotel staff seem to be up for “business as usual” all night long.