South to the sunshine

The discussion started as "Where should we go for the long Easter weekend?" Fall is rapidly turning into the cold gray drizzle days of winter. Lisa started researching places in the warm, dry central part of Chile. Mike interrupted with, "How about Punta Arenas?" (Punta Arenas being the city closest to the Antarctic, launching point for South Pole expeditions from Scott to Amundsen to Shackleton.) Over Sunday afternoon coffee, everyone from Tío Lucho to Tía Margot competed to praise Punta Arenas. Lisa was unconvinced and brought up the logistical detail of bus to bus to plane. Tía Victoria answered by offering us her car to drive and leave at the airport. Lisa could do no more than agree to go polar for vacation.

So we headed out early Thurs. morning in the dark and a downpour. Mike read up on Charles Darwin's log of the "Voyage of the Beagle" on the flight down. Eventually the clouds cleared and we got nice views of the mountains near Torres de Paine.





Once again, the family had it right. Punta Arenas, the capital of Región XII de Magallanes y de la Antártica Chilena (and the geographical center of Chile if you count the territory claimed in Antarctica), is an elegant old city (old by western U.S. standards - it was founded around 1845 and came into its own around in the late 19th century), and Magallanes is definitely the Chilean equivalent of the U.S. Wild West.

Seeking to secure control of the Strait of Magellan, the Spanish tried to establish settlements in the mid-16th century, only to be driven out by unfriendly natives or starvation. The Chileans took a more forceful approach in 1843, setting up Punta Arenas as a penal colony and outpost for disciplining Navy and Army men. The combination of the restless watching the lawless led to a bloody mutiny and riots. The city finally came into its own when the regional governor imported sheep from the Falkland Islands. The sheep economy (shipping wool and lamb to Europe like Iceland did) brought big big money to the city. Parallel to the U.S. Wild West, immigrants from Europe, especially Croatia, played the part of the rich businessmen and ranch owners, the local tribes played the role of the Indians, laborers from the poverty-stricken island of Chiloé were the equivalent of the Chinese, Irish, and Mexican cheap labor, and finally steamships replaced the railroad as transportation. Some of the biggest ranches in the world (and cheap labor to work them) financed the building of a city on a European model.

Today, the city still has a European feel, with many old stone and brick buildings (maybe because the South is not seismically active, though Wiki tells us that there was a large earthquake in Tierra del Fuego in 1949). Many of the business kings' palaces are public buildings, city hall, navy officer's club, the Chilean Antarctic Dept. offices, a museum. (This, for instance, is where Shackleton's rescue was organized.) Wide streets keep the city sun-filled as the sun hangs low in the autumn sky, but also let the constant Patagonian wind race through town. Nowadays, the economy runs on shipping, tourism (to Parque Nacional Torres de Paine), sheep still (it's the main shipping port for the Falklands, since the Brits and Argentina are still on the outs), and oil, and natural gas has been discovered in the area.


Thursday, when we arrived, was sunny so we started walking. First stop, the port to gaze across the Strait of Magellan at Tierra del Fuego and snowcapped peaks of the Cordillera Darwin.
Punta Arenas seems pretty progressive with a waterfront walkway and bike path.









Random pipes and equipment from oil drilling have been remade into a play space along the walkway.


Berto climbed in and out of the pipes, under the watchful eye of an old oil pump. You have to love a city that can figure out a way to turn old industrial machinery into a kid playground!












The main plaza (called the Plaza Muñoz Gamera, not the Plaza de Armas as in so many other Chilean cities) is quite delightful, with big old cypresses and, in the center, a grand statue of Ferdinand Magellan flanked by a couple of the local native people.

One of the natives is sitting with his foot dangling over the edge of the pedestal, within easy reach of passers-by. It´s considered good luck to kiss his toes, so that´s what we did. Later when the local skateboarders and trick bikers used the statue's plinth as a launch pad for tricks and spins, the hapless tourists had a challenge trying to kiss the statue.












The other tourist must-do was to visit the cemetery. Not wanting to go inside on a sunny day, we strolled up to the cemetery. Topiary bushes that had been planted in rows one hundred years ago are now thirty feet high. We walked between rows feeling watched over by giant green gnomes.

Elaborate tombs at the entrance had been erected by the Croatian, Spanish, French, Italian and English associations of Punta Arenas. The most elaborate were reserved for the sheep and shipping barons of the turn of the last century. A reading of the names on the tombs (not to mention signs around town) told the sociology of immigrant assimilation in Punta Arenas. Northern and Eastern European surnames combined with Spanish first names. The melting pot of Chile hit a boiling point in the cold of Patagonia. Pedro Hvarek married to Maria Higginson Armundsen, buried in the shadow of the tomb of the Menéndez-Braun family.

Friday was sunny again - and strangely quiet. It turns out that pretty much everything in town is closed for Good Friday, including the museums that we'd saved for today.
We took advantage of the calm to get photos of ourselves with our Yogurt Park T-shirts. We did notice while we were walking past closed storefronts that there was evidence of a big party or parade - we think we missed the big Last Supper parade we'd seen on TV. Oh well... Fortunately, it was another great day for walking around, so after our unsuccessful trip to the Salesian Museum, we hiked up Cerro de la Cruz for some great views over the city. We could see the magenta- and rust-colored hills (from the fall colors of the local scrubby trees), but it was hard to capture the colors in pixels.


We found the local attraction of signposts giving the distances to various cities around the globe. (The one pointing the opposite way says "Polo sur 4025 km".) For 20 luca ($40), they'll put your city up there too!

We came down the hill and looked for a place to eat along the waterfront. After establishing that everybody who was anybody was at the new municipal market, we retraced our steps to a nice-looking restaurant Sotito's Bar in an old stone building, that had families in the front tables. The non-smoking area was upstairs (unlike other cities in Chile, the folks here don't seem too concerned about keeping children out of a smoking area), and we had a nice view over the water. We sampled some local delicacies: Centolla (king crab) and calafates (as a calafate sour). Tía Victoria told us that we had to check out the calafates – and for good reason! They look and taste a bit like blueberries but have a much firmer texture. Sublime! We were reminded how nice it is go to a restaurant with a good chef and a waiter who gives good service and knows what families with kids need.

Gabi and Mike took a nap while Lisa and Berto rounded up gifts for our neighbors from the Zona Franca (duty-free mall) on the edge of town; then we explored more in the old port. Lisa happened upon some truth in advertising that made her chuckle. A store displayed a pair of underpants that made the men's formal gloves above them seem child sized. Pinned to the giant panties was a sign Talla Especial, special sizes made indeed! We had just reached the water when we heard the sound of drums and a band, which sounded like a parade, coming from the main square. We returned about the time everything got quiet again; by the time we had returned to a different part of the waterfront, we heard them again.




The waterfront is quite nice, the way a waterfront should be!
A walking path and bike path, lots of little parks, and several plaques and historical monuments.






We had to stick our toes in the Strait of Magellan - it was cold! Amazing to think that the natives (Yahgan, according to our source) used to dive naked for centolla. We then heard the parade again, so we double-timed it up back to the main street to see what was going on. A quite large procession from the main church in the Plaza Muñoz Gamera to Cerro de la Cruz. We returned to our favorite hole-in-the-wall restaurant for sammies and good local (Austral) draft beer.







Saturday we awoke to drizzle - but it stopped soon! We headed out again to the Plaza Muñoz Gamera for some running around, and found lots of other people with the same idea: There was a city-sponsored fun run for kids. We had a little time to check out the cultural museum in the old Menéndez-Braun mansion just off the square. So that's how the big money lived! For example, a large formal dining room with a painting by a famous European artist of the time (who was assisted by his son Pablo Picasso) and a gorgeous Beaux Artes ceiling. Lisa was most impressed by the central heating in the basement. Central heating in Punta Arenas 100 years ago and it still hasn't reached the rest of the country, sigh... They have a small natural and cultural history museum in back, where we got a sense of how rustically the native people lived and how poorly they were treated by the Europeans who arrived and got the big sheep estancias started. The museum also had a spectacular art show in the basement.

Then off to the airport, the flight back to Puerto Montt and the drizzle, and home for baths and bed. A fun little jaunt! Wish we'd booked one or two more days there – but who knew?!

Next: Easter egg hunt!