Once I had accomplished such a gigantic mission, I decided to take the metro all the way to the other nod of the line to Los Dominicos where there was meant to be a mall of sorts, not that I anticipated wandering around a mall but because I thought I could then walk back into the city center despite all the people saying to me that it was "Lejos" to try to dissuade me from the walk. Nonetheless, I got the, and sure enough there was an artisan village where I wandered around in the gray misery of another overcast day. These two peacocks shook their tail feathers at me with such insistence that I began to feel truly desirable, and for a woman my age to feel such yearning from another species is peculiar at best.
I began the walk down Av. Apoquindo, which seems to house many older people, but it was pleasant with little shops and many people sauntering along the sidewalks. I turned at Av Alonso de Cordova to head up to the Museo de la Moda but either passed it or never noticed it (the more probable), and instead turned from Americo Vespucio Norte left onto C. Goyenechia where I literally stumbled on the most incredible Museo Ralli, a privately funded museum that was free and chocked full of Salvador Dali, Miro, Magritte and Chagall paintings along with walls and walls of Latin American works. The collection was exuberant and unbound with an entire room full of Magritte lithographs and another whole roof Chagalls. Harry Recanati, a Greek banker who must have been Jewish because he create two of these museums in Israel, was the collector and created the foundation that established five museums in Uruguay, Spain, Chile, and ss I mentioned, two in Israel. The museum is spacious and well lit, the works grouped by artist or by visual comparability, making for a breathless viewer's delight.
Here is an Argentinian piece, and on another wall this Bolivian group of people, one making a face at us...
This is a Peruvian artist who had two of these catchy, twisty paintings, and there was a Miro Sculpture that I found compelling. I've gotten them reversed, but I think you can tell your Miro from your Peruvian...
After the talking to Christian at the museum, who wanted to encourage more people to come to the museum, I took Av Alonso de Cordova up to Av. Bicentenario, a beautiful path along a park that stretched for miles with bike paths, jungle gyms and all sorts of diversions including a sculpture of men on bicycles with spyglass, (on my phone and not my iPad...) as I began to get into the part of the city with the tall building that all the tour guides kept telling me not to miss.
Here are the tall buildings of which the Santiagans are so proud.
As I got closer to the center of the city, I had to capture this graffiti along the side of the rushing water, and then the photo of the spring feel of s park, loaded with lovers sprawled on the grass and on each other. I remembered that many of the young people live with their families, so springtime and parks invite open air PDAs.
After a quick shower, I walked over to Andes Hostal where my friend was staying with her Drexel students. We left them to their own dinner plans and wandered over to Lastarria where we drank a pisco sour - with the whipped egg whites, to die for - and ate delicious fish dinner at at funky restaurant full of wine bottles, old wooden tables and old waiters. It was the perfect end to a heavy walking day, but I have no mor time to chatter and must get to my bus!
One last phone of my friend, Gabriella and her pisco sour at she sipped delicately during her meal. I knocked mine back way too fast and had numb lips for the duration of the meal but made it home safe and sound. More tomorrow.
I began the walk down Av. Apoquindo, which seems to house many older people, but it was pleasant with little shops and many people sauntering along the sidewalks. I turned at Av Alonso de Cordova to head up to the Museo de la Moda but either passed it or never noticed it (the more probable), and instead turned from Americo Vespucio Norte left onto C. Goyenechia where I literally stumbled on the most incredible Museo Ralli, a privately funded museum that was free and chocked full of Salvador Dali, Miro, Magritte and Chagall paintings along with walls and walls of Latin American works. The collection was exuberant and unbound with an entire room full of Magritte lithographs and another whole roof Chagalls. Harry Recanati, a Greek banker who must have been Jewish because he create two of these museums in Israel, was the collector and created the foundation that established five museums in Uruguay, Spain, Chile, and ss I mentioned, two in Israel. The museum is spacious and well lit, the works grouped by artist or by visual comparability, making for a breathless viewer's delight.Here is an Argentinian piece, and on another wall this Bolivian group of people, one making a face at us...This is a Peruvian artist who had two of these catchy, twisty paintings, and there was a Miro Sculpture that I found compelling. I've gotten them reversed, but I think you can tell your Miro from your Peruvian...After the talking to Christian at the museum, who wanted to encourage more people to come to the museum, I took Av Alonso de Cordova up to Av. Bicentenario, a beautiful path along a park that stretched for miles with bike paths, jungle gyms and all sorts of diversions including a sculpture of men on bicycles with spyglass, (on my phone and not my iPad...) as I began to get into the part of the city with the tall building that all the tour guides kept telling me not to miss.Here are the tall buildings of which the Santiagans are so proud.As I got closer to the center of the city, I had to capture this graffiti along the side of the rushing water, and then the photo of the spring feel of s park, loaded with lovers sprawled on the grass and on each other. I remembered that many of the young people live with their families, so springtime and parks invite open air PDAs. After a quick shower, I walked over to Andes Hostal where my friend was staying with her Drexel students. We left them to their own dinner plans and wandered over to Lastarria where we drank a pisco sour - with the whipped egg whites, to die for - and ate delicious fish dinner at at funky restaurant full of wine bottles, old wooden tables and old waiters. It was the perfect end to a heavy walking day, but I have no mor time to chatter and must get to my bus!One last phone of my friend, Gabriella and her pisco sour at she sipped delicately during her meal. I knocked mine back way too fast and had numb lips for the duration of the meal but made it home safe and sound. More tomorrow.
No comments:
Post a Comment