The naval dry dock is at Talcahuano. Although Valparaiso is the principal seaport on the West Coast, there are no wharves. The business section is built on the old beach and on a terrace. The hills rise abruptly from this narrow shelf and the residential district is on the hills. Elevators and trolley-lines connect the upper and the lower city. The railroad station is very near the boat-landing.
The railway fares were very moderate and the officials of the road seemed to us quite courteous and obliging although, during our stay in Santiago, we read in one of the local newspapers a letter from a lady globe-trotter who declared the Chilean railway officials were the rudest and most disobliging that she had found anywhere in the world. Chilean railways have grown tremendously during the past fourteen years. At the time of the revolution against Balmaceda, in 1892, there were barely seven hundred miles; while, at the time of the Scientific Congress, the trackage had increased to three thousand miles of which half is owned and operated by the government. More lines are in course of construction.
Valparaiso is the commercial capital of Chile and her Stock Exchange determines the rate of exchange. The shops of Valparaiso are filled with things that appeal to Anglo-Saxons, for there is a large British colony here.
Perhaps it was natural that we welcomed most eagerly of all the presence of an attractive English book shop where we purchased files of English newspapers and all the recent pictorial weeklies and magazines that we could find. Partly for this reason and partly because we had grown tired of looking at scenery, the four hours’ railroad journey between Valparaiso and Santiago passed without making much impression on us so far as our immediate surroundings were concerned, and almost before we knew it, we had entered the political and social capital of Chile.
CHAPTER XIV
SANTIAGO AND THE FIRST PAN-AMERICAN SCIENTIFIC CONGRESS
From the railway station to the centre of Santiago is a two-mile ride on a fine parkway, the Alameda de las Deliciosas. It has rows of trees, muddy little brooks, and a shady promenade. Statues to some of Chile’s more famous heroes have been placed in the centre of the promenade, and stone benches, more artistic than comfortable, line its sides near the brook. This sounds rather romantic, but the waters of the stream, which is in reality a ditch two feet wide, are so dirty that it suggests an open sewer rather than a mountain brook.
During our stay some one became disgusted with either the brook or the stone benches and exploded a bomb under one of the latter. It happened late in the night and nothing was hurt, except the bench, which was quite demolished. Had the bomb gone off earlier in the evening there would have been a list of casualties, for all the world walks up and down here in the cool of the evening admiring the view of the Andes. The strictly fashionable world confines itself more often to the pavements of the principal plazas where it may be found about nine o’clock, on evenings when the band is playing, walking slowly round and round, enjoying a glimpse of itself. But the broad Alameda, as wide as three or four ordinary streets, is distinctly the more popular resort, and on festivals like Christmas or New Year’s, it is thronged with merry-makers.
At the end of the Alameda, beyond the centre of the city, is the romantic rock of Santa Lucia. Santiago owes its situation to the fact that this precipitous hill of solid rock was left by nature in the centre of a rich, fertile plain. The rock formed a natural fortress and was fortified by the Spaniards when they first came to Chile. After having been the scene of numerous bloody battles during Chile’s colonial days, Santa Lucia is now a wonderfully attractive park with fine driveways, well-made paths that command splendid panoramas of city, plain, and mountains, and a theatre and restaurant on its summit. The view is remarkably fine. The city spreads itself out on all sides although the principal plaza and the business district lie more to the west. The snow-capped Andes, the most characteristic feature of Santiago scenery, rise majestically to the east. Low foot-hills bound the western horizon. The fertile plain, which is none other than the great central valley of Chile, lies to the north and south. Magnificent vineyards yielding a larger crop of wine than those of California itself, are scattered over this valley. Chile repeatedly reminds one of California by its climate, its fruit, its mountain scenery, and its arid coast. California has one advantage, its width between the ocean and the Sierras, particularly in the fertile region, is so much greater than that of Chile.
The hotels of Santiago are not so luxurious and modern as those of Buenos Aires, yet we found the “Annexo B” of the Oddo to be perfectly comfortable. It is really a “bachelor apartment hotel.” No meals, except early coffee, were served there, so we took advantage of the generous hospitality of the two leading clubs, the Club Santiago and the Union. Wearied as I was by the dismal brown desert of southern Bolivia, the gardens and fountains in the patio of the Club Santiago seemed like Paradise itself. To be able to sit at small tables, served by courteous waiters, and enjoy immaculate linen and the best of food and drink, was sufficiently novel to be charming, but only half as welcome as the restful green of the trees and the pleasant splash of the fountains.
We soon discovered that the coolest and easiest way to see Santiago was from the second story of an electric car, especially when the upper tier of seats was covered. The fare on the roof is intended for the pocket-books of second-class passengers and is only five centavos (a cent and a quarter!) which makes it cheaper to take a car than to walk. Unfortunately for the pleasures of life in Santiago, fashion frowns on any one who climbs the stairs when he can afford to ride below.