We stayed a block away from one of Pablo Neruda's houses, Chascona, in the foothills of the Bellavista neighborhood. Rather than a single house, it's three small houses connected by footpaths. I didn't expect much, what would a poet's house tell me about the poet?
We stepped inside the first building, into the dining room and I immediately felt the eccentricity of the man. He hired an architect to build the house but the architect said there was more Neruda in the house than him. I've never felt anything like it. The dimensions are custom, they don't seem to adhere to any standards. The room felt shrunken, with a long table and all kinds of statues, paintings and other bric-a-brac. At the end of the room is a secret door that opens to a spiral staircase that leads upstairs.
The walls are painted and decorated with a variety of colors and motifs.
Outside there are narrow paths leading up the hill to the other buildings.
Each building seems to have a style and color all its own, but somehow, it works in combination.
There is a bar in each building, this one is called the "Summer Bar."
It is so peculiarly decorated that it defies description. I admit to staring at it for almost ten minutes trying to figure out why it was so interesting.
The phrase "one of a kind" is overused, but in this case it's apt. It's inspiring to see something so utterly different and creative.
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