Un Pueblo Turistico

Don't get me wrong, there is plenty to do in San Pedro de Atacama but not everything is as economical as the tours we were able to find for our first three days there. As a couple instead of a quartet, we were forced to participate in one of the more expensive tours (the price depending on the distance travelled from town it seemed).

On this particular day we ventured to Las Lagunas Altiplánicas, first stop Laguna Chaxa. As we drove into the national park it seemed as if we had entered a parallel universe. The entire area was covered with crystallised salt rocks and salt encrusted streams of water interspersing between. It really did look like the ancient bottom of the sea, only with flamingos grazing on the strange bacteria one can find in the water.

We were told that there were three types of flamingos that inhabited the area: the Chilean, the Andean and the James Flamingo (the smallest of the three). You can tell them apart from their colour in particular as some have more pink feathers than others. They all looked beautifully silhouetted against the water's surface and each and every tourist couldn't help but click away.

Next we travelled a long way to Lagunas Socaire, Miscanti and Meñique, which were quite high in altitude (approximately 4000 metres above sea level) and the little van struggled to make it up. We did eventually arrive and the huge lake set in a small valley below the mountains was rather breathtaking. Vicuñas lazily walked along the yellowing grass; their camel-like features looking striking against the blue backdrop of the lake.

On the way back to town we passed the ancient and original Inca trail, which begins in Ecuador and ends in middle Chile. It was basically a trade root that the Inca people developed, very much the South America version of the Silk Road. Traditionally the travellers crossing the driest desert in the world would pile stones on top of each other to indicate the correct direction and myth states that if a traveller does this then he is protected on his journey. So of course at the exact point where a cross stands indicating the Tropic of Capricorn one can find a growth of these piled stones from the many modern tourists who now pass by. We also stopped for lunch at a typical ugly mining village and visited the other church in the area with a cactus roof, in Toconao.

With no plans for the following day, we took the opportunity to sleep in and after a lazy breakfast we went walking the 3km to Quitor Pukará – ancient ruins from the original indigenous inhabitants of the Atacama Desert (supposedly after the Tiahuanaco and before the Inca, which were then conquered by the Spanish). Upon the hill descends the ruins of houses, which once stood surrounded by a strong fort wall, all made from volcanic rock. On the adjacent hill we climbed high up to the mirador and took in the scenery. We climbed further up to the large religious cross where we also came upon a group of Germans who were climbing up from the other side. We asked where they had come from and they reassured us that there was a path. And so we continued on, sometimes sliding on our bottoms down the steep rocks, sometimes looking endlessly for the merciless path until we came into a valley of rocks as the Germans said we would find.

Once the ground became flat, we enjoyed climbing in and out through the valley of rocks, which towered above us. Although, it wasn't long before we feared that we had gone the wrong direction and we were in fact lost in the desert. Our only reassurance that we were going the right way was either rubbish left behind by some slack people or the still-fresh footprints of the Germans. We made it out eventually and found ourselves in the Valle de la Muerte where we had been sandboarding a few days ago. The worst part was then having to walk along the highway back to town, racing off the road as big cargo trucks came past and flicked stones at us from under their wheels.

We cooked our lunch and then went off to check out the museum in the central plaza, which is also an Institute for Archaeological Investigations and was founded by the priest R.P Gustavo Le Paige, one of the forefathers of Archaeology in Chile. It was he who had grained the permission to conserve the artefacts found in the area, including ancient bodies of the Indigenous people, which have since been taken off display out of respect. It was a laugh to see just how many of the artefacts were in fact old tools for cocaine consumption, either used to get closer to the Gods or for the altitude. The translation into English for many items was "Snuff Tablet".

Afterwards we walked 3km in the stinking heat to the local municipal swimming pool, which just so happened to be closed that day for cleaning. We sat in the shade for a little bit before we dared the sunrays again. Most disappointing!

The following morning we spent buying souvenirs and Christmas presents, something actually very hard to do because most of the objects were straight from Peru where you can get them for half the price. At least the sellers were honest in telling us the original of the item when we asked. Then we took the bus to Calama where we had planned to wonder around for a bit but when we got there (this time during the day) we found it to be the most boring and frightening town we had been to in Chile. I say this because it is strictly a mining town without much cultural influence (so it seems, although I hear the central plaza is nice. We couldn't find it), and I felt the eyes of the many men upon my oh-so white skin. It was as if they had never seen a white person before. In fact we both felt so uncomfortable we took a taxi to the airport and waited for our plane there.

Who knew the desert could be such an adventure!

La Cultura de Coca

The desert is the one place where you can best feel the extremes in temperature. Throughout the afternoon the sun sinks deep into your skin, turning it red no matter your origins while at night the clear sky sends cold shivers down upon the earth. You don't notice the extreme cold of the early hours of the morning though, unless you wake up at 4am to go 4300 metres above sea level to visit the local El Tatio geysers that is. (It is recommended you chew on coca leaves or sweets to help with altitude adjustment).

When we arrived the temperature was at approximately minus 5 degrees Celsius and we had wrapped ourselves in thick ski jackets, beanies and thermals, having been told to gradually take off each layer as the day progressed. The reason that you visit the geysers so early is because a geyser’s activity is best seen in the cold, so in wintertime when it's minus 20 degrees Celsius a tourist may gain the best view of these strange hot breathing pools. We walked around the geysers and learnt to distinguish them from a normal hole that releases hot steam but no water. Around the edges of each geyser is a nest of bacteria that breed off the exotic minerals.

We also got to test out the thermal pool that was absolutely boiling in some parts and cold in others. If you swim to the cooler side of the pool you cannot see everyone happily relaxing at the other end for all the steam. It was really quite amazing. The hardest part was having to get out into the cold air and get changed out of our swimmers in the open. Well worth it!

We climbed back into the bus and headed back down the mountain, passing vicuña, guanaco and alpacas (llamas aren't seen in the region) along the way. We visited an old deserted mining village that some locals had since decided to return to purely out of tradition. The current population rests at 5 people who depend completely on tourism. We enjoyed the local goat's cheese empanadas but speared trying the guanaco kebabs. On a small hill at the end of the one street of the village you can also find another white church, which looks marvellous juxtaposed against the deep blue of the sky.

Our last destination was to walk through Valle de Cactus before driving back to San Pedro de Atacama. Once back, we ate a very delicious gourmet meal at the plaza and then spent the rest of the afternoon sleeping and relaxing at the hostel. That evening my fellow Australian and her lovely Chilean left to continue their travels elsewhere. After dropping them off at the bus terminal we went to a nearby restaurant/bar and tried out Mojitos de Coca. Note: Coca is the drug of choice for the indigenous Atacama culture, although the coca doesn't really affect you unless you distil it. Natural coca consumption is perfectly legal and very accessible.

El Fondo del Mar

We slept well into the following morning before taking the opportunity to get to know central San Pedro de Atacama more. In the middle of town, at one corner of the central plaza sits the famous white San Pedro church made from adobe walls and a cactus roof. In fact most the buildings in San Pedro de Atacama are made from their original adobe walls and are heritage listed to the annoyance of some locals who want to renovate and extend, but much to the pleasure of the tourists.

After a nice lunch under the shade of restaurant trees we joined a tour to visit some of the many nearby lagunas. Our first stop was Laguna Cejar where you can literally float in the water for all the copious amounts of salt. You can't stick your head under though for obvious reasons. The crystal blue water was quite cool under the burning desert sun and we enjoyed the very strange sensation of effortlessly floating. When we did decide to get out, the salt soon crystallised on our bodies, leaving a thick white mark.

We followed the water's edge of the neighbouring (reserved) laguna, which had a thickly coated rim of salt around its edge. It actually looked like snow had settled upon the grass. At the far side a group of flamingos were feeding, while little lizards ran between our feet.

We crammed back in the van and drove a short distance to another laguna, this time not so salty. Instead, it was situated deep into the ground and apparently continued on for another 20 metres. We jumped high into the water and felt its icing fingers grip our body. I got out as fast as I got in; it was so cold. At least, all the crusty salt was washed off our bodies. We took the time to then take allusion pictures of ourselves; one person standing close to the camera while the other goes far and looks tiny in comparison. Apparently it's what all the tourists do at this particular laguna and we had loads of fun following this trend.

Last but not least we drove a little further to another lake, this time much bigger than the ones we had been to previously. The thing about this lake though is that you can walk right into its heart, giving off the allusion that you are walking on water. The lake is absolutely saturated in salt and is very shallow hence the Jesus-like allusion. We watched with rose-coloured glasses as the sun sunk beneath the mountains and the colours of the landscape dramatically transformed. Again we enjoyed a Pisco Sour for the special occasion.

San Pedro de Atacama

We awoke bright and early to a fresh morning and some much desired clean air. My fellow Australian and I slathered ourselves with sun cream as the darker Latino boys went off to collect the bicycles that had been organised the day before.

We set off out of town, following a not-so-correct hand drawn map and taking in the strange scenery. We soon arrived at a river at least 15cm deep that cut across our path. We wondered along its edge looking for the easiest place to cross. I thought I saw a shallow crossing that I could simply ride across. Without telling the others I raced into the water and got stuck right in the deepest part. I was forced to put my feet in the water to balance the bicycle; otherwise I would have completely toppled over. I got to the other side with absolutely drenched shoes and socks. I took them off and hung them at the front of my bicycle to dry as I watched the others smartly take off their shoes and socks before entering the water and then put them back on once at the other side. We all had a good laugh at my expensive and I ended up riding for the next bit with bare feet, which was actually quite nice in the on-coming heat.

On we ventured until the path entered into a strange canon and we had to pull our bicycles up the rocks to continue. Once inside, we speed along not knowing where the path was leading us. We zigzagged in and out of rocks, sometimes having to duck our heads, sometimes zooming up a steep rock only to zoom back down the other side. It was loads of fun but the pain in my bottom was gradually getting worse and the heat was soon becoming unbearable. As we didn't know how far the canon went on for we decided to turn back and follow another path in the aim of making the most of the bicycle hire before the sun made it impossible to continue.

We rode until we saw a small mud church sitting lonely upon a hill. We rested in its shade and poured as much water as possible into our bodies. As we set off back home, we noticed my seat was really low, in fact too low and that was probably why I was in so much pain. A lower seat means you put all your pressure on your bottom and your legs do a lot more hard work in cycling. Well, we put my seat up and it made such a difference in riding.

Back at the hostel we flopped onto our bed exhausted and fell asleep until lunchtime, after which we had planned to take a tour. Our dread locked tour guide took us out to Valle de la Muerte (Death Valley). This valley begins as a canon but once more inside you suddenly come across these giant dunes towering above you. With a snowboard in hand, we sweated our way up the top of a dune only to surf back down in an instance. Up and down we went for a few hours (all this after having rode a bicycle for the last 5 hours) and it was a heap of fun. The trick is to step in other people's footprints as you walk up the dune and once up top you sit for a while taking in the scenery and getting your breath back, then you launch forward, balancing with your bent knees and outstretched arms. And the best thing about sandboarding is that the sand is so comfy to land on when you fall, and we certainly all fell!

With sand in every knock and cranny of our clothes and bodies we got back into the van and headed to check out some salt caves. You see, the Atacama Desert used to be at the bottom of the sea and so salt is engrained in every part of the landscape. The now-non-existent water had also shaped the rocks into strange forms and as you walk through them you can't help but think you are walking on the Moon or maybe even Mars.

Finally we headed to Valle de la Luna (Moon Valley) where we literally climbed up the cliff to get the best view for the most spectacular sun set. As the sun said goodbye for the day, the rocks gleamed with red and orange and the sky softly turned into shades of pink and blue. We sat there in owe or with our fingers clicking away on a camera and drank Pisco Sour.

Once back in town we headed straight to the comfort of our beds and the warmth of our many blankets. It wasn't until the next day that we really felt in our bodies how much we had done the day previous.

Estresada

Do you ever have those days when you set out to do the right thing and it all back fires in your face? I have learnt that being organised in Santiago doesn't count for anything for it is a world where nothing is done electronically or automatically. From my work, I have been receiving cheques as my payment and from these cheques is taken out superannuation and insurance. However, it your duty to file tax separately and worst of all you must then join the legions of other people with cheques queuing in the bank to get them cashed in. The end of the month is when everyone receives their cheque and when you can see lines of people filed from the cashier to the footpath outside.

The 31^st of November, the day before my flight to San Pedro de Atacama, I headed to the office to collect my cheque. There was already a line of people waiting and oh boy, did we wait! Apparently the head of Human Resources had forgotten to sign the cheques and so we not only had to wait for him to respect his responsibility, we had to wait for him to return from his late lunch. This meant that by the time I received my cheque the banks were already closed. Not to worry, I would go at 9 the following morning, as soon as the bank opened. I wasn’t due to fly until 11:55am.

My lovely Chilean accompanied me to the bank at 9:05am and what do you know, the line was already out the door. He also had to cash a cheque at the neighbouring bank so off he went. Now at the particular bank where I have to go to, there is only one cashier who attends to non-clients hence the extremely long line, more so than other banks. This meant that my lovely Chilean had already cashed his cheque by the time I had moved 5 or 6 places forward. It was terrible! We waited an hour for the money I really needed for my trip and then went running back to the house to collect our luggage.

We had planned to take public transport to the airport because it's a million times cheaper and so we set out on the metro. This particular day, the metro was very slow, stopping at the platform for minutes at a time instead of flashing through like it usually does. We travelled from one end of the line to the other and more. Finally we got out and instead of taking the bus, we took an expensive taxi because we feared missing our flight. We arrived exactly 40 minutes before the flight.

Well not according to their schedule! You see, on my printed copy of my ticket it said the flight was due to leave at 11:55am but when we arrived they were displaying the departure time of 11:50am. We had therefore arrived 5 minutes and they just wouldn't let us on. Our hearts sank. We had been so organised, we had packed our bags the day before, we had bought food to take with us but all because of the line at the bank and the inability for companies to deposit money directly into accounts, we missed our flight.

They put us on the next flight, due to leave 3 hours later. With frowning faces but still a little hope in our hearts we went to have something to eat. Not a very good meal, I might add, especially for the price but I guess that's to be expected in an airport. We then went through security and were sitting at our gate when 5 minutes before boarding time we heard that our flight had been cancelled and we needed to make our way back over to check-in.

And so off we went back through security and over to check-in to meet yet another extremely long line. By the time we arrived at the desk the next flight was already full. We were placed onto the last flight of the day and given a lunch voucher. Having already eaten we went back to the restaurant to pass the time, a whole 9 and half hours in totally that is.

We finally boarded and sat in first class, not that it made much difference in the small plane. I think we might have had more leg room? From the airport in Calama we took a transfer to San Pedro de Atacama in the pitch darkness, passing an intense car accident along the way, making me feel even more uncomfortable at the speed we were travelling at. We arrived at the small town at 1am where our friends, who had taken the original flight, met us at the hostel.

A bad start to a great trip!