On February 27, 2010, five hours after the earthquake, I set off to see what was going on in my neighborhood. Here and there bits of rubble and glass littered the sidewalks. A few buildings were cordoned off with yellow tape. Near the Divina Providencia Church a sinkhole had swallowed an entire block of pavement. In front of the church itself a crew worked at clearing rubble blocking three traffic lanes. On the opposite sidewalk, people milled about gawking or taking pictures of the heavily damaged bell tower. The rest of the nearly 200 year-old structure seemed ok.
On my return, I went by my local pub. It was yellow taped, bits of stucco lay about the sidewalk. To the rear, a bit of adobe wall leaned out as if daring anyone to stand under it. I pretty much kissed goodbye to the two buck half liter mug of beer I frequently had there on warm evenings. It made me wonder on the fate of my other favorite watering holes.
All of them were old, traditional establishments built before Chile’s demanding building codes came into effect. The idea of having to change my boozing habits and having to patronize glitzy nuveau riche bars gave me the creeps. Modern Santiago had already swallowed most of the joints where you could order a cool borgona, wine with fruit in it, on a hot afternoon or an elaborate vaina on a cold winter night.
A few days later, bus services and the Metro were back to normal operation. I headed to the Central Market built over a hundred years ago by a French fellow by the name of Eiffel who would later build some tower in Paris.
Of course, my destination was not the market but an establishment around the corner opened in 1916. In those days it catered to the market workers who would have a glass of wine when arriving to work and when going home. In 1922 a friend of then President Alessandri invited the head of state for a drink. On seeing the clientele, Alessandri commented, “Esto es una piojera!” this is a lice den.
The owner quickly changed the name of the place to La Piojera. Still owned by the same family, the staff of this bar-restaurant works hard at making it the raunchiest place in Santiago.
Glasses are filled to the brim and the bar is wet with slop-overs. The bar is famous for its terremoto (earthquake) cocktail. White wine, aguardiente (fire water), Fernet and a dollop of pineapple ice cream. One of them is enough to make you feel the earth is shaking. My favorite is pipeno con chichi, white wine with a sweet grape cider. At the bar they also serve ham hock sandwiches and meat pies.
I am happy to report, the place is still standing. After drinking a few terremotos, some of the clients are not.
Later, I went clear across town to the western suburb of Maipu where some apartment buildings, their main supports collapsed, tip over at alarming angles. I was worried that La Higuera, an establishment installed in a sprawling old house had not survived the quake. To my delight, it is still up. Lunch with a large glass of wine here is six bucks. It includes salad, main course and desert. The bar, which has a separate entrance to segregate the rowdies is about as raunchy as La Piojera, but I doubt it has ever been visited by a foreign tourist.
In the city center, right on the main drag officially named Avenida Bernardo O’Higgins, but called Alameda by everyone, stands the stately Club de la Union, which occupies a city block. Everyone who is anybody in Santiago is a member. Nobody who is nobody is allowed entrance unless a guest of somebody who is not afraid being seen friends with a nobody.
Being a nobody, I have not yet done any elbow bending on the world’s longest bar carved out of one piece of wood.
But across the New York Street side of the club are the friendly doors of the Bar la Union. Inside, behind the bar counter, the shelves are lined with wine bottles. Only a small space is occupied by whiskeys or other imported spirits. The bartenders here will even talk to a nobody. Waiters in white dinner jackets and napkins on their wrists, bustle about tables with red table cloths. Here the menu is elaborate but very Chilean, and the prices wallet friendly.
If it wasn’t for the Club de la Union, we wouldn’t have the bar of the same name. I guess one ought to thank somebody.
My local pub has been repaired.
