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Santiago de Chile, site of the sadly famous Palacio de la Moneda.

Valparaiso, Chile

We don’t know if the show “Cuéntame” is still on. If it’s not and you feel like more of it, come to Santiago. Santiago de Chile. Here you’ll feel like you’re in the Spain of TVE, when there was only one, of course. Everything is in black-and-white. Or better still, sepia. Because there is a constant mist in the air that gives everything that moves that tone. We don’t know if it’s pollution, fog or dust, or a mix of all. But one has the feeling of seeing the country through a filter that ages everything. In the main square, you can still find a shoeshine boy that you’d say was from a different era if it weren’t for the advertisements on the benches. The same as the cabdrivers, some of which still wear a tie under their woolen vests and have kind faces like old pensioners of the past. That’s why we’re surprised to see so much advertising about children’s rights in Chile, though it’s true that everywhere and at all times things like that went on.
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Easter Island, Chile, the most magical place we have ever been.

Easter Island, Chile

Pablo Neruda: Chilean, poet and Nobel award winner. According to himself, he was a prize idiot and a sailor only by mouth. The former, it goes without arguing. The latter, maybe it was true that he couldn’t stand sailing, and he was still crazy about ships, but someone like him, who could use his imagination like he did, doesn’t need the title of captain to be a sailor. His houses are like dreams with tags, where each corner has a story. True or false, it doesn’t matter, probably created by him, but so alive that the objects seem to have a face and a name. Like that armchair that he called cloud, or the living room that he turned into a lighthouse. Where there were no windows, he invented sights, and where the floor creaked, he imagined a schooner.
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