However, the day chosen, 21st May, commemorates a less-than-glorious event - the Battle of Iquique - on the same day in 1879, in which a Chilean ship blockading the Peruvian port was destroyed.
This battle was among the first of the initial naval campaign in the 4-year-long War of the Pacific between Chile, Bolivia, and Peru.
This battle, and the war of which it was a part, was ostensibly caused by a controversial 10 cents tax hike imposed by Bolivia on Chilean mining operations in territory mutually agreed to belong to Bolivia, but from which it would receive tax revenue. In reality, there were already simmering border disputes around the nitrate-rich Atacama area - nitrate was used both as fertiliser and in explosives - and the treaty-busting tax increase catalysed all-out war.
Peru entered the fray as it was allied with Bolivia through a previously undisclosed treaty and refused to declared its neutrality. This led to Chile occupying the Bolivian mining town of Antofagasta and blockading the Peruvian port of Iquique to prevent them gaining command of the sea. Despite the losses on 21st May, Chile's subsequent land assault was eventually successful and boundaries between the three countries were redrawn in a peace treaty, allowing dominant Chile to annex both of the above-named towns, leaving Bolivia landlocked - a subject which is sore until this day and which is currently being taken to the World Court by president Morales to once again give Bolivia access to the sea.
In Santiago, all of these skirmishes seemed an age away - the Bolivian corridor to the sea across Chilean land is rarely mentioned. The day was cloudy and rather cooler than of late, but still warmer than most British summer days with a high of 20°C. Still, the local Chileans were duffled up even if they were running or cycling up St Cristóbal hill - the mount that overshadows much of the centre of town.
We joined the well wrapped-up folk on their day off for a jaunt up to the summit. Although rising to 880m above sea level, the climb is only a few hundred metres up a dirt path to the peak. Still, there is a funicular for those not inclined or unable to make the ascent.
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| View from the top of San Cristóbal |
The hill was for a while privately owned, during which time the rock was quarried for construction in Santiago. The highest point is now surmounted by a large statue of the Virgin Mary and an amphitheatre for outdoor ceremonies.
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| Gran Torre - the tallest building in Latin America |
Having 'summited' the small cerro, we attempted a different route down that would lead us to the east side of town, away from the access point in Bellavista. A few unsuccessful attempts led us down steep dirt tracks, which were gleefully being used by local downhill mountain bikers. Eventually we discovered the less trodden Sendero de las Grandes Travesías, which brought us out into the affluent and residential area around the autumnal tree-lined Av. Pedro de Valdivia.
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| Autumnal avenue |
A few streets from here, we found El Huerto - an upscale vegetarian restaurant (commensurate with its surroundings), which was not only open on the public holiday but doing a roaring trade. The waiters and waitresses were run off their feet attending to the flood of customers demanding all-vegetarian dining. I was flabbergasted that this kind of venture could not only survive, but thrive in meat-obsessed Chile.
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| Middle-class vegetarianism |
K and I both plumped for the 'Anatolia' menu of the day, which included a Turkish potato soup, spinach pancake, babaganoush, hummus, olives and roasted carrots, followed by baked pear and a cinnamon-spiced compôte. The food was well presented and reasonably tasty, but slightly overpriced owing to the location.
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