Santiago scarcely retains the flavour of its Spanish colonial past, and has – both intentionally and unintentionally – overridden much of the architectural styles that once related it to the rest of the continent. On the one hand, the city’s unfortunate relationship with mother nature has meant that only a handful vestiges of 16th or 17th architecture remain standing, and on the other, a 19th century industrialist drive to modernise the city along neo-classical or modernistic lines prompted a heavy transformation or even the complete demolition of many of the remaining colonial buildings. The truth is that after the proclamation of the country’s independence, ‘colonial’ often smacked of backwardness and regressiveness in the opinion of progressive Santiaguinos.
But you can still marvel at some of the extracts of past glories that are scattered around the eastern end of the centro histórico. At the junction of Calle MacIver and Calle Merced you’ll come across the sizeable Basilica and Cloister of la Merced, a true gem among Santiago’s ecclesiastical constructions. It was originally built by the members of the Order of the Blessed Virgin Mary of Mercy (Mercedarians) who had arrived together with the discovery expedition to Chile. The first church was built in this plot of land back in 1566. Since that date, the temple has been the object of predilection by the city’s most eminent citizens, and many important personalities are buried underneath the premises, including Ines de Suárez, the first European woman to live in Chile, who is also the main character in one of Isabel Allende’s most recent novels, Ines of My Soul.

'The creaking wooden floor, the wrought-iron chandeliers and the line-up of colourful carved figures of saints create a haunting but warm and emotive atmosphere inside La Merced'

In stating the obvious, the early constructions were not immune to the earthquakes of 1647 and 1730, and the Basilica had to be rebuilt for the final time in 1736. Today, the two-towered façade of the church is shadowed by somewhat tatty surroundings, not to mention the fact that part of the cloister is now incrusted in the adjacent office block. But don’t be fooled by first impressions. The interior of the church is dripping with baroque decoration and inspirational artwork. The most outstanding features are the magnificent hand-carved pulpit and the altar displaying the 16th century image of the Virgin Mary brought by the first Mercedarian priests to arrive in the city. The creaking wooden floor, the wrought-iron chandeliers and the line up of colourful carved figures of saints create a haunting but warm and emotive atmosphere.
On the south side of the Church lies a verdant courtyard surrounded by the cloister that now houses the Museo de la Merced (entrance is from Calle MacIver). For years condemned to oblivion, this small museum made a comeback in 2004 and is now thriving with its interesting and diverse collections. Perhaps the most singular of all is the room containing the 18th century figurines of baby Jesus encapsulated in bell glasses, although there are numerous rooms dedicated to archeological objects from Easter Island and art of mixed European and indigenous influences.
There are more colonial relics to be found in the vicinity of the Basilica. From the tiny plazuela facing the church, follow Calle Merced in direction of the Plaza de Armas where you’ll find one of the most historically important buildings in the capital and one of the few houses of the time to remain in good conditions. Built in 1770 as the private residence of Don Mateo de Toro y Zambrano, the Casa Colorada (Red House) was the scene of the country’s first step towards self-government on 18 September 1810, when a handful of the city’s most eminent Liberals – presided by Don Mateo himself – first met at council. Ironically, the original intention of the meeting was to declare loyalty to the King Ferdinand VII of Spain – who was in exile at the time as a result of the Napoleonic invasions – except that local politicians soon acquired experience in government and a sweet taste for republican autonomy. When restored to the throne, Ferdinand showed little appreciation for this and other self-governing bodies throughout his Colonial possessions and ordered a swift return to absolutism. This was met with resistance of Liberals, resulting in the spread of Independence Wars across the continent with catastrophic consequences for King Ferdinand. The Chilean Independence period is narrated through an assortment of objects and documents inside the Casa Colorada, in an interesting Museum which also illustrates the history of the capital since its foundation.
Other examples of colonial housing can be found as you make your way back to Calle MacIver and head north. Lying at the corner with Calle Santo Domingo is the scarlet-coloured Casa de los Velasco, a 1730’s construction with an imposing wooden balcony. Across the street is a set of neo-gothic buildings which constitute the church of San Pedro and Convento del Buen Pastor, the latter now housing the facilities of a private University and a theatre. Onwards via Calle MacIver and turning left on Calle Esmeralda stands another interesting colonial house in front of a leafy, fountain-studded square. The Posada del Corregidor Zañartu is perhaps the city’s most distinctively Spanish-American cottage-like house, creating an irresistible mismatch of styles with the surroundings buildings of neo-classical European architecture.