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Destinations

Valparaíso's ups and downs

Valparaiso is quite literally a city of dramatic ups and downs. Chile’s second largest metropolis, “Valpo” belongs to that rarefied tribe of romantic port cities — San Francisco and Lisbon are prominent members — where ship studded seas collide with vertiginous house clad hills. The views from on high are inevitably dazzling. But navigating steep ascents on foot, while picturesque, can be wearying, even for the most avid StairMaster fiends. Which is where the elevators come in.

As famed as San Francisco’s cable cars and Lisbon’s bondes (trams) are Valparaiso’s ascensores. Technically ascensor (elevator) is a misnomer, since only one is an actual elevator. The rest are funiculars, rustic wooden boxes with brightly painted exteriors that shudder and swoosh up and down the city’s 40-something cerros, or hills.

One of Valparaíso’s ascensores

This quaint and quintessentially porteño mode of transportation dates back to Valpo’s boom days when it was one of the most important ports in the Americas. Until the 20th century, the only available sea route from the Atlantic to the Pacific was via the treacherous tip of South America. As the first port after Cape Horn, Valparaiso became an obligatory pit stop and, eventually, a thriving hub for immigrants seeking their fortunes in shipping, mining and banking.
Not wanting to mingle with the sailors, stevedores, and prostitutes (at least publically) along the waterfront, nouveau riche expats built palatial manors on the hills overlooking the sea. To whisk them to and from the lofty cerros, they hit upon the solution of ascensores.  The first steam engine-operated funicular went into service in 1883; by the early 20th century, there were more than 30.
Unfortunately, when the Panama Canal opened in 1914 — creating a shortcut from the Atlantic to the Pacific — Valparaiso’s boom began to go bust. Catastrophic earthquakes and fires also wreaked havoc upon the city – and its ascensores. By the early 21st century, only 16 had persevered, a feat that earned them status as National Heritage Monuments.
Historic Valparaiso itself was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2003. And yet, despite spurring a major revitalization of this bewitchingly ragged city, today only a half dozen ascensores are still in operation. Here’s a brief guide on how to take full funicular advantage of the proud survivors:      

Ascensor Concepción

Valparaíso’s oldest ascensor has been in service since 1883. From the historic Calle Prat, lined with grand 19th-century money-making temples such as the Bolsa de Corredores (Stock Exchange) and the former Banco de Londres (today occupied by Banco Santander), the funicular rises up to Cerro Concepción. Together with adjacent Cerro Alegre, Cerro Concepción is one of the city’s most picturesque neighborhoods, crammed with rainbow colored Victorian houses and funky little boutiques (and boutique hotels), and ripe for wandering.
The ascensor alights at Paseo Gervasoni, a manor-lined terrace with sweeping sea and city vistas. Cerro Concepción is drenched in an arty, writerly vibe nourished by a significant coffee culture. Café del Poeta is an elegant café, its walls lined with poetry books, which serves a mean once — Chilean afternoon tea. Nearby, Color Café channels more contemporary artsiness with walls covered in napkin art and the lure of homemade truffles. For caffeine (or hot chocolate) with a view, Café La Belle Époque (at Papudo 527) offers an intimate terrace along with an in-house art gallery.

Ascensor el Peral

Inaugurated in 1901, this recently renovated funicular departs from the old court buildings, adjacent to Valparaiso’s monumental main square of Plaza Sotomayor and ascends to Paseo Yugoslavo, a terraced boardwalk on Cerro Alegre lined with striking old houses looking out to the Pacific. One of the most arresting is the handsomely restored art nouveau Palacio Baburizza.  Once home to a rich, eccentric and lonely Yugoslavian immigrant, today it shelters the city’s Museum of Fine Arts.

Ascensor Reina Victoria

Cerro Alegre can also be reached via this funicular named after Britain’s Queen Victoria and inaugurated two years after her death in 1901. From Calle Elias, the ascensor rises up to scenic Paseo Dimalow, set amidst Cerro Alegre’s nexus of hip and happening restaurants, bars and boutiques.  Worth popping into are galleries such as Bahía Utopíca and Casa E, which showcase works by local artists, and Café Vinilo, a terrifically funky café/bistro with a hidden garden, not to mention inventive food, brutally strong coffee and homemade ice cream made from exotic Chilean fruits and nuts.
Cerro de Alegre is rife with stunning vantage points from which to watch the sunset over the city. Rooftop bars abound, but Taulat is an intimate tapas bar with sublime views and frothy Pisco Sours.

Ascensor Artillera

The western edge of the port district is a lively, gritty area, home to Valpo’s oldest church, and its oldest bar. Since they’re only one block from each other, after spiritual contemplation at the Iglesia de la Matriz, you can take a libation of cheap and potent Chilean chichón at the dimly atmospheric Bar Liberty, which has been slinging drinks since 1897.  
Nearby, Plaza Aduana is anchored by the imposing colonial Customs house and the Ascensor Artillera, built in 1893, which takes passengers up the Cerro Artillera. At the top, is the most panoramic boardwalk of them all, Paseo 21 de Mayo as well as Vinizio, a cavernous wine bar/boutique specializing in small Chilean vintages and compelling views of cranes lifting containers at the port below.

Ascensor Espíritu Santo

Dating from 1912, this “younger” funicular offers a rickety ride from Calle Aldunate up the slopes of Cerro Bellavista. Exiting onto Calle Rudolph, you’ve still got some uphill trekking ahead to reach the city’s most popular pilgrimage site; the madcap 5-story home that poet Pablo Neruda built “in the air” and christened La Sebastiana.
Happily, the route weaves through the Museo a Cielo Aberto, a twisting labyrinth of houses and stairways adorned in murals and frescoes.  Named in honor of the ascensor, Espíritu Santo is a contemporary Chilean restaurant offering creative, locally sourced dishes and — in keeping with Valpo’s highs and lows — captivating city views.               

Attractions, Destinations

Great balls of fire on the streets of Salvador

In sultry Salvador, Brazil’s first capital and third largest city, the vast majority of social life – and socializing – takes place in the streets. Bars and restaurants spill onto sidewalks. Samba jams, pocket shows and mega concerts erupt in squares, parks, and on beaches. Then there’s the city’s legendary Carnaval; it’s billed by the Guinness Book of Records as the largest street party on the planet.
In light of this alfresco state of being, it’s not surprising that Salvador has one of Brazil’s most original and appetizing street food scenes.

Bahian street treats

In Salvador, street eats begin at dawn with local women who fuel workers with rice, tapioca and creamy corn mingau (porridge), spiked with cloves and dusted with cinnamon.

Bolinhos de estudante

As the morning progresses, in front of schools and university campuses, students line up to get their sugar fix with bolinhos de estudante. Named in their honor (“student balls”), these deep-fried treats owe their chewy consistency to tapioca flour mixed with coconut milk.

Meanwhile, those with leisure time on their hands can head to one the city’s myriad beaches where vendors, armed with tin can barbecues, grill skewers of queijo coalho. This tangy regional cheese is particularly addictive when doused in oregano and sugar cane molasses.       
Salvador’s street food scene gathers additional heat, and spice, in the late afternoon, with the release of workers from jobs and kids from school, and the lengthening of shadows on the beach. Suddenly, the air is infused with the heady fragrance of dendê oil – a distinctively pungent smell that is the perfume of Salvador.

Salvador’s favorite “fast food”

Acarajé

The scent of dendê – a species of palm that grows along the coast of Bahia and whose fruits are pressed into oil – is the calling card of acarajé, Salvador’s most iconic and ubiquitous “fast food”.  Basically defined, acarajés are tennis ball-sized fritters made from a puree of black-eyed peas that are deep fried – until crisp (on the outside), but fluffy (on the inside) – in crater-sized pots of sizzling orange dendê oil. And that’s just the beginning.
Once cooked, acarajés are split open and then comes the fun part – filling them up. Choices include one or all of the following: Vatapá, a thick paste dominated by cashews, shrimp, ginger and coconut milk; Caruru, a puree of diced okra; and Salada, in which finely diced tomatoes are seasoned with onions and cilantro. For an extra real or two, you’ll be blessed with a bonus serving of glistening pink-orange camarão seco, dried shrimp whose salty bite adds an oceanic twist to the proceedings.
If you want your acarajé with all the trimmings, ask for a “completo.”  Those who like it hot, and put in a request for “quente,” will receive a generous smear of fiery pimenta (malagueta pepper) sauce. Gringos with heat sensitivity issues should make sure their acarajé is served “frio.”

An edible heritage

Baianas

Like much of Salvador’s distinctive local cuisine, acarajés originated in Western Africa where they were known as akara, which in Yoruba translates into “ball of fire.” The recipe crossed the Atlantic with the hundreds of thousands of slaves shipped to work Brazil’s colonial sugar plantations.
To this day, acarajés are among many sacred foods eaten during Afro-Brazilian Candomblé ceremonies and presented as offerings to the divinities known as orixás. In fact, many Afro-Bahian women who prepare acarajés on street corners throughout the city are followers of Candomblé. In keeping with tradition, “baianas” are often clad in the white turbans, voluminous hoop skirts, glass beads and bangles worn by mães de santos, or priestesses.
As symbols of Bahian culture and identity, baianas have a memorial-museum dedicated to them in the historic Pelourinho district as well as an official day of commemoration on November 25. In 2012, the state government of Bahia declared baianas de acarajé as intangible cultural heritage.

Best of baianas

Oyá Digital’s map of baianas

There are an estimated 4,000 baianas scattered throughout Salvador, all of whom can be digitally located via the Map of Baianas published on oyadigital.com. A handful of these women have become local legends, whose fritter-frying renown has earned them national fame and considerable fortunes. For years now, the reigning triumvirate of baianas has been Dinha, Regina and Cira. All three hold court on outdoor squares in Salvador’s bohemian beachfront hood of Rio Vermelho.
Meanwhile, most Salvador residents have their own favorite (more affordable) baianas to whom they are faithful. My own predilections include Neinha, located on a corner of Centro’s main street of Avenida Sete de Setembro, and Luiz, a rare male baiano who has a loyal following in the historic neighborhood of Mouraria.
Located on a leafy cobblestoned street, Luiz’s ponto is outfitted with plastic chairs and a wide-screen TV. This set-up allows customers to watch snatches of a soccer game, or the latest political scandal, while chasing their acarajé with an icy beer, or – better yet – a chilled can of Coke (the cola’s sweetness plays surprisingly well off the spice and salt of the acarajé).

Acarajés get a lot of love – and press. However, most baianas also serve equally enticing, yet mysteriously unsung abarás, made of pureed black-eyed peas that are boiled instead of deep fried. After being mashed, the thick bean paste is densely packed and then elegantly wrapped in banana leaves to seal in the moisture. The resulting taste sensation skews smooth and silky and is more delicate than acarajé. Happily, all the same delicious fillings apply.

Abarás