If you come to Chile, please make Curacaví a stop on your list. Well, only if you love chocolate, and I don’t know why you wouldn’t.
We went on our second COPA-organized excursion yesterday to three lovely locations in the Quinta Región (the state that Valparaíso is capital of): Curacaví, Pomaire, and Isla Negra. We left Viña del Mar at 9:30 am and headed toward the interior of the country, about halfway to Santiago.
In Curacaví (a great name, isn’t it?), we went to L’Atelier del Cioccolato di Félix Brunatto, one of the top 20 businesses in this region contained in an unassuming white house. I had been anticipating this stop at a “chocolatería” (chocolate shop) ever since I read the COPA email saying we would get to try “chocolate con queso” (chocolate with cheese!). If you know me, you know that this is like discovering the magical intersection of two parallel lines (an image AL once conjured in reference to looking up IMDB on Wikipedia).
We first entered the smallish “sala de degustatión” (tasting room) which had display cases of the various elegantly decorated chocolate boxes that the shop produces. The founder and owner, Félix Brunatto, spoke to us through his Parkinson’s about the history of chocolate, the proper way to eat it (or should I say experience it), and the particular characteristics of the 8 or so pieces we sampled.
Flavors included the following:
● Basil (albahaca)
● Oregano (orégano)
● Nutmeg (nuez moscada)
● Lime
● Mascarpone cheese (queso)
● Cheese with nutmeg
I would have to say that the chocolate with cheese exceeded my expectations. If you’ve ever had a mallomar, you can understand the sensation of biting into a chocolate shell only to have your teeth sink through the soft marshmallow before biting through the thicker chocolate bottom. Well, it’s like that, except that it is a very delicate, smooth cheese. And then all the flavors start to mix in your mouth…
Big ups to cows. Thanks, guys.
With a longing glance cast back, we moved on to Pomaire, a small town known for its ceramics. So, as expected, we went past miles (“kilometers” just doesn’t sound right) of agriculture before pulling our massive bus into a small town with one main street packed with ceramics-and-miscellany shops. For some reason, there seemed to be an obsession with piggy banks. One gringo suggested they are a lucky charm; maybe they're just cute?
Since I wasn’t really in the market for any ceramics, I picked up some cheap jewelry and decided to sample a traditional Chilean treat called “mote con huesillo” (wheat and peach). Boiled wheat is scooped into a glass, and a dried peach which has been soaking in sweet juice is then ladled in. I had to say it was pretty tasty, and my Chilean madre says it will be ubiquitous on the streets for the Chilean independence holiday in two weeks.
An hour and a half of leisurely passing through the shops later, we headed back towards the coast to the town of Isla Negra where Neruda lived intermittently from 1939 until his death in 1973. In fact, he and his third wife Matilde were buried there:
Compañeros, enterradme en Isla Negra,
Frente al mar que conozco,
A cada arena rugosa de piedras
Y de olas que mis ojos perdidos
No volverán a ver...Friends, bury me in Isla Negra,
In front of the sea I know,
Of every sand rugged with rocks,
And of waves my lost eyes
Will never return to see.
(from the poem “Disposiciones” from Canto General)
This is the second of Neruda’s three houses we have seen (we saw La Sebastiana in Valparaíso on our last trip; we’ll see La Chascona in Santiago later on). Neruda participated in the designing of all three, and this one in particular showed his passion for the sea. The house mimics a boat in many of its features: small doorways, arching ceilings, and nautical imagery in every room. One living room contained a troop of female figureheads taken from decommissioned ships hanging around the sitting area. Another area of the house was his personal museum, featuring musical instruments from around the world (none of which he played) and dozens of ships in bottles, nicely displayed on shelves in front of the windows.
And his bed, like at La Sebastiana, looks out through ample windows onto the water. His writing desk too is pushed right up against the window and has a clear view, beautiful enough to inspire poetry of Neruda caliber. Actually, from the perspective of his desk, it looks right out onto his grave, which is built into the hill just outside, and then the ocean beyond. So I guess he wanted to make sure he had the best view even in death.
I’m hoping/planning to read more of Neruda during my semester here, since it seems he really is the patron poet/author/saint/luminary of Valparaíso and even Chile as a whole. For the past few weeks we’ve been reading Horacio Quiroga and Jorge Luis Borges in my Hispanoamerican Short Stories class. Reading a page of Spanish text is still daunting, but I manage to finish the task much more quickly than I used to. So I guess that’s good.
Also, I’m suuuuuper emocionada about the long trip I am taking with two friends starting on Thursday, September the 13th, to the Atacama Desert. We’ve been making lots of plans to see the altiplano near Arica and a day trip to Peru, then on to San Pedro de Atacama. Some Chileans say it is their favorite part of the country, and in any case, it should be amazing.
16 °C