24 October 2010

The last week or so has seen an interesting display in front of the regional government offices on the north side of the Plaza, next to the regional tourist information office!

During the rescue of the 33 miners trapped underground near Copiapo, the men were winched to surface in a bullet-shaped cage. To my surprise, I subsequently found out that there was more than one cage made, apparently each with minor differences in case the others had problems. I gather that the actual cage used quickly found its way to China to be a part of Chile's exhibition in the World Trade Fair, however, one of them is on display here in Copiapo.

In the first few days of its presence here, there was a very tightly maintained barrier around it and crowds there of 4-5 people deep trying to get a glimpse of it. Uniformed police zealously guarded the whole thing, and it was a pretty difficult task to get a decent look at it, not to mention a photo. As with these sorts of things, after a good few days, most people had managed to satisfy their curiosity about it, and eventually it got to the stage that there way pretty much no-one around. Not only did this make taking photos a better experience, but the guards either decided to start letting people into the barricaded area, or someone else higher up the food chain decided that it wouldn't hurt to let people in.

Anyway, I'm wandering past one night, having actually remembered to have my camera with me, and lo and behold, there's maybe only half a dozen people there, and no guards. It looks like I'll be able to wander on in, get up close and personal with the cage and not be hassled by any security guards. Indeed, it seems that people are climbing into the cage to have their photos taken by their friends/parents etc.

On first impression, all I can think of is how narrow it is. I don't bother trying to squeeze myself into it because it is unlikely to be very successful, and I also don't have anyone to take a photo to record the moment. I fleetingly consider asking one of the locals to do it, but have visions of them waiting until I am fully ensconced in the cage, then hightailing it down the street with my camera while I struggle to extricate myself. Yeah, it's probably an unworthy thought, but am I prepared to take the chance. Errr, no. I'm not.

Not much else to report just at the moment.

A

17 October 2010

Oh yeah!!!  I've slept like a log and have woken up by myself. I love that feeling of waking up gently when you're ready to, rather because of the incessant chirping of the alarm on a weekday, or those times where you wake repeatedly while waiting for the alarm to go off, or on those days when the garbage truck or cars are in the street below my window and making just too much noise! While it is only 8AM, it's a treat from the normal 7AM, and despite being up late chatting, I feel reasonably refreshed. It's time to investigate my "romantic" bathroom – the outside one – as we're due to meet up for a 9AM breakfast.

Outside, it's not so cold, but not so warm either, and there is quite a steady breeze, so I'm rather hoping for plenty of the promised hot water, otherwise it might be just a little bit nippy…

The bathroom is an area of perhaps 4m by 5m with a bamboo screen (or similar) around it that is about 6 feet high (I can see over the top without too much trouble). There are a heap of plants growing in it and in the middle is a large umbrella-type thing. There is a toilet in the opposite corner to the shower, and a chair to put your stuff on, next to a hand basin and a mirror. The shower is in the corner in front of where you walk in and comprises a gas hot water heater on the wall behind it, some basic pipework rising out of that and up to a showerhead. One stands in a bowl-shaped arrangement, that with a little imagination, you might believe to be a giant clam shell. There's also lots of little artsy decorations around, with a sea-side theme to them of course – starfish and shells! It really is quite lovely, and hopefully one day, it'll make a bit of inspiration for something similar if I'm fortunate enough to have my own place again…

So, stripping down to the essentials, I step up to the clam shell and turn the hot water on. Hmmm. Three surprises. One is that the shower head is at the level of my shoulders – looks like I'll be stooping to wash my hair. The larger surprise, and somewhat more important, is that the gas hot water heater fails to spring to life when I turn on the tap. I can hear water moving through it, but there is the disappointing lack of a "woof" sound as the gas ignites… Third surprise – you might guess – is the rather insipid amount of water coming out of the shower head. Oh dear.

Closer inspection of the gas heater reveals the problem – no pilot light. I think back to my first arrival into my apartment and remember my struggles to light the pilot on my water heater, only to give up in disgust at not being able to do it, then finding out that it was an electric starter type. I search for signs of an electrical lead to the unit, but no, nothing there. There also seems to be evidence of flames being used in the front hole where the pilot light should be. Drat and bother.

I get dressed again and head back to my "romantic" cabin in search of matches. Matches now located, back to the bathroom. After five minutes of cursing and wondering how on earth it works, I finally luck onto the right combinations of button pushing and turning and having the match in the right place, and the pilot leaps into life. I think the instructions are saying to hold the button for 15 seconds, but just to be sure, I hold it for 30. As I let the button out, I'm holding my breath that it doesn't go out and I have to start again. Aaah, success, it's still going. He he he, now I'm cooking! I crank open the tap, listen to the water moving through the unit and yes, there's the "woof" as the heater leaps to life. The volume of water still isn't that great, but ooooh, here comes the hot water. I think I'll survive!

I strip off again, test the water, and my, it's hot! I slow the hot down and turn on the cold at the same time. Ooops, mistake number "lots"! The gas heater switches off, as not enough water is going through it. Bugger. I crank open the hot again, and it comes back on. Looks like I'll have to have the hot tap open fully and adjust things by the addition of cold water alone. In I get and begin the process of temperature adjustment. Drat and bother, it's gone out again, but this time, nothing that 5 minutes of working on can fix. The pilot is still going, so it isn't a lack of gas problem. In the end, I give up and resign myself to a cold shower – not so romantic!!!

To top of the experience, right in the middle of being soaped up and having a head full of shampoo, the door to the bathroom flies open and the owner is standing there. It's hard to imagine what he was thinking – my towel was flung over the door and the sound of the water running was reasonably obvious I'd have thought, but nonetheless, there he is. It takes him maybe a second or so to register that someone is there, or maybe it was enough of a perve to realise that the occupant wasn't so interesting, and he mumbled an apology, shut the door and wandered off!

Having eventually managed to wet myself enough to have rinsed off the soap, my "romantic" shower is over. The good thing about cold showers is that when you get out and get dry, everything seems relatively warm. My blood is flowing and I'm wide awake, that's for sure, although not exactly feeling the love that the morning SHOULD have delivered!

With the various travails of the morning, it's now just after 9AM and time for breakfast with the gang. I wander over to their cabin and knock gently! Looks pretty much like Claudia is the only one up, and even she is only just awake. We begin getting everything out and organised and eventually everyone is ready. The girls are cooking this morning and the whole breakfast is pretty darn good. A nice spread!

It's a leisurely affair, but eventually we're fed, cleaned up and ready to head off. The plan is to visit the orbicular granite just to the north of Caldera, then head back through Bahia Inglesa, down the coast to Huasco for lunch, then return in a leisurely manner, enjoying the flowers of the desierto florido. Having done most of the route on the motorbike, and it took a long time, I'm interested to see how we go for time – it seems a bit late to head off, but hey, what could go wrong? I'm sure it will be a lovely day, no matter what.
The orbicular granite is still spectacular (from a geological point of view), but the girls seem to enjoy it too. Before too long, our attentions are drawn by the rock pools along the beach and the platform that is covered by water at high tide, but is now reasonably exposed, with lots of stepping stones amongst the remaining water to walk over. There is an abundance of starfish and anemones (bright red) to see, and each new little discover we all make brings delighted little "Ooh, mire!" (look), or "Oooh, aqui!" (here). We also discover that the rocks are quite slippery, and fortunately, no-one manages to fall in and have wet shoes for the rest of the morning.

Having spent a lot longer than planned, it's now the better part of mid-day and time to get a wriggle on if we're going to get to Huasco at a reasonable hour for lunch. Off we go, south along the coast. The day is reasonably grey, and not necessarily the best for taking photo's, but the coastline here is still quite pretty in the gloom. We arrive at Puerto Viejo without fuss, but there is a bit of excitement as there are multiple road options. I haven't been here before, but decide that I'll be a bit confident and say that the road to the right is the correct one. Worst case, we end up in Puerto Viejo town, at which point I'll recognise the way out, but as it turns out, we end up in the right place – on top of the little cliff overlooking the town. Turning left, we head away from the coast and towards the main coast road (P.V. is on a little spur road). The intersection is also where I saw my first part of the desierto florido, with masses of white flowers. Here's hoping they are still out.

We get to the point where "my" white flowers were, and lo and behold, nothing but purple flowers. Very beautiful and very different. Looks like the plants flower at different times to avoid competing with each other. We can't help but stop and wander amongst them taking more photos. These are the first decent lot of flowers that the girls have seen and they seem to be finding the whole thing just fascinating. It seems like the boys have an eye on the clock, and before too long, we're back in the car and hurtling to the south. The change in flowers from last time I was here is startling – nothing but white previously, and now virtually nothing but purple!

We find ourselves repeatedly stopping for flower and scenery photos, which is completely against the original plan of blasting down to Huasco and wandering back in a leisurely manner. Looks like we'll be doing the opposite. No big deal from the food point of view – I'm still stuffed from breakfast.

The rest of the journey to Huasco is the same – blast along for a bit, then be overwhelmed by the need for more photo's of flowers and/or scenery, so another stop. We're all particularly delighted (I think) by the little surprises in terms of colours of flowers. The red ones brought us to a screeching (nearly) halt, followed by a u-turn to go back and see what that little flash of colour was all about. My favourite little memory, although it could have been ugly, was Victor bending down to smell one of the cactus flowers, forgetting about and not seeing the 10 cm spines that stick up all around the flowers. He remembered just in time, and just as I started to lunge towards him to stop him. It was a moment to set my heart pumping and the adrenaline flowing, as a face full of spines might not be such a good look, particularly one in the eye!

We eventually roll into Huasco at about 3.30pm (or so) and go in search of somewhere for lunch. My two previous visits mean I'm classified as the expert, which I demonstrate at the first opportunity by missing the turnoff that we want. Victor recovers the situation nicely and before too long, I can point out the restaurant I want to go to. We manage to park directly in front and head in. My favourite waiter is again on duty, and he shows no sign whatsoever of recognition of me. Fair enough I guess – I'm sure he sees plenty of 195cm gringo's though the restaurant every week and that we all tend to look alike…

We're seated, orders taken, food delivered, and we tuck in. Quality seems pretty good again, and everyone is happy. We make a late choice to add some empanadas to the order, and everyone is rather surprised at the size of the ones that turn up. Huge, in comparison to normal, which of course leaves us wondering as to the wisdom of all the rest of the food we've ordered. As it turns out, it's not a problem. We manage to crunch our way through pretty much all of it, but are feeling so stuffed afterwards that we're in desperate need of a walk.

It's only a short stroll down to the jetty. The water is again crystal clear, the sun is now out, and it's all pretty delightful. There are an enormous number of pelicans around, taking up most of the available rocks alongside the jetty. There's a bit of a crowd, and it takes a few moments before our attention is drawn to the water and we can see what the others are looking at. There's a seal playing around (showing off, by the look of his actions) and being fed by a guy throwing morsels out to him. One foolish sea gull who dares to try and pick up the morsel is extremely fortunate to escape with a fright, as the seal spotted it coming in and sped towards the scrap, perhaps hoping to end up with the bird? It was extraordinary how fast the seal could accelerate and move through the water – incredible!

We were also treated to a very bold pelican investigating the tourists and searching for a few tasty bits and pieces, perhaps even from any exposed bits of the tourists! Despite it eyeballing me from a metre away, it didn't try and eat me or my camera, nor Andrea and Alma who were cowering behind me and oohing and aahing at the same time. After we wandered off to look at other things, the pelican got a bit more brave and headed on down to see whether he could pinch anything from the guy feeding the seal. Unfortunately for the pelican, he did manage to get something but didn't take off quickly enough. They guy seemed intent on getting his scrap back from the stomach of the pelican, which wasn't the most beautiful sight and although the crowd was mightily entertained, it seemed un-necessarily cruel to me, so I left. The others seemed ready to leave at about the same time, and we found ourselves at the car, ready to go.

The trip back to Bahia Inglesa was pretty much a carbon copy of the way down (perhaps slightly less stops), with the exception of a detour to the pueblo of Totoral. Victor had worked in the area in the past and was keen to show us the "cotton trees". Of course, none of us believed that cotton grew on trees – my memory is that it grows on bushes. Nonetheless, there we were in Totoral, looking up at the large trees with clumps of cotton hanging from them. Extraordinary!

We rolled into Bahia Inglesa just after dark, having watched the sun setting below the horizon from the car, parked on the edge of the road. Just beautiful.

Dinner is a self-prepared effort tonight – perfect after a long day. We chat into the night, and eventually I retire to my "romantic" cabin, ready for another night of uninterrupted sleep, free from traffic and the barking of the dogs…

A

16 October 2010

It’s an early start. Original negotiations about the start time might well have mentioned 6AM, but were sensibly scaled back, originally to 7AM, but in the end, 7.30AM. Very sensible as it turns out. This morning, the weather is disappointingly foggy (the Camachaca), meaning it is hard to see the hills/mountains for the drive out of Copiapo. Even though I know that the fog tends to disappear before too long as you head inland, I still can’t help but feel a little worried that today will be special, and we will drive for a long way before it clears up. Not that the hills in this part of the world are super spectacular, but they ARE weird. Almost like blobs of mud that have been dropped from space. Certainly not the well-formed rocks that I’d imagined I’d see before my first visit here in April.

Anyway, off we go. Fog, fog and more fog. Before too long, we are at the turnoff for the Paso Sanfrancisco, and yep, the fog is still quite thick here. We turn to the east and within a few kilometres, oooh, what’s that? Looks like… Yes, it’s a mountain in the distance, then suddenly, more of them, and lo and behold, there’s a bit of blue sky. Hooray, it’s thinning rapidly, and out the other side, another glorious day in the Atacama Desert! We celebrate the sun with a brief stop for photo’s, and to enjoy the view of the fog bank we’ve left in our wake. Given that we’re heading into the sun, we also take the opportunity to clean the windscreen…

Despite only having been on this road twice before, it is all still fresh in my mind, so I’m able to be the tour guide with some degree of accuracy. Coming up on the left is the … Oooh, watch out for the … and so on. As we climb up out of a canyon and onto a plain, everyone is surprised to see the amount of grass here, not to mention the couple of donkeys and horses. But wait, I say, there’s more ahead. We stop and take photo’s though, as they are an interesting sight, and certainly unexpected on your first visit here. Sure enough, as we drive further, there are no more animals… until we round another corner, and thankfully, there’s a heap of them busily grazing away, only looking up at the crazy touristas as we drive past, and occasionally stop for more snaps.

The landscape for me is still very interesting, as this is the first time I’ve seen the high altitude part devoid of snow and ice. Sure, it’s broadly the same, but is sufficiently different to hold my attention and fascination as we zoom along. It’s hard to imagine every seeing these mountains as mundane!

We make a stop as we commence our first real descent, down from a pass at around 4,000m down to maybe 3,500m or so. Last time I was here I did some “skating” on a frozen river bed! This time, there’s a small series of excavated holes, full of crystal clear water. I decide to skip a rock across one of them, which introduces me to the reason why they appear so crystal clear. There is still about an inch of ice on the top of this, and my rock makes a hollow “thunk” sound on it and then bounces off into the distance. It’s also hit the ice hard enough to crack it, and it’s fascinating to watch the way the air bubble generated by the cracking of the ice snakes its way around underneath the surface.

Alma is also excited to be out of the car and able to move around. She’s 13 years old, and all long limbs. She goes for a bit of a gallop, which earns her a quick rebuke from Victor and Claudia before I can get the words out. The oxygen levels are relatively low at this altitude and vigorous exercise is not a good thing for the unacclimatised. She’s a clever girl though, and doesn’t have to be reminded again. Back in the car, and it’s a short trip down to the Salar Maricunga and the border post. We call in at the caribineros office again to advise them of our plans, take a few photo’s and off we go again. The surrounds of the Salar are again magnificent. Still a bit of snow/ice around and just gloriously beautiful scenery. It’s hard to rave too much about it, but I feel I can hardly do it justice. Even the photo’s, which I reckon are pretty awesome if I look at them pretending that I’ve never been there before, don’t do it justice…

Still 100 k’s to go to get to Laguna Verde! We stop again at some cascades, driving off the main track and down to the edge of the small canyon in which the creek is flowing. I idly wonder if this is the right turn, as the ground seems very soft in comparison to my memory, but the view seems familiar enough, so I quickly forget the thought. I mention that I’d seen guanacos here on my last visit, but there’s initially none to be seen, but after a while, they suddenly pop into view. Not sure if they were there beforehand and we just didn’t have our eyes adjusted to be able to see them, but the more we look, the more of them there are. We know that today needs to be a relentless day, in terms of just keeping on going, but there are so many photo opportunities, it’s hard to say no to stopping all of the time and snapping away.

We head off, back up the hill and the first hint of trouble hits us. We’re driving a RAV4 – not the most serious of 4WD’s, and it’s an automatic. We lose traction/drive fairly rapidly in the sand, and look a little concerned. No problem, we’ll just back down the hill, slip into proper 4WD and then zoom back up. We’ll be right… right? Er… no. The engine is still revving away, but far more gently than it ought to be. We also are not going forward. Oh dear. Worried glances. Victor tries a couple of manoeuvres aimed at getting us up to our exit point, but we can’t get closer than about 15m. Worrying times.

In the back of my mind, I can’t help but think we’re at the wrong exit point, as I don’t remember Alexis and I having the same problems when we were here. We drive a bit further down the edge of the canyon, and relief, we spot a better looking exit point, and sure enough, we cruise straight up and out onto the road. Sighs of relief, all round. While there’s a bit of traffic on the road, none of us thought the idea of spending time waiting for someone to come and pull us out seemed like a good way to spend the day, especially one with a tight timeframe!

OK, so we carry on towards Laguna Verde. Worried glances are now being directed to the fuel gauge, and some mental maths is being applied to how many kilometres we’ve got left to go for the day, how many we’ve already travelled, and how much fuel we’ve used. I fall into the “fuel gauges are just approximate guides” category, and am far more interested in how many kilometres one normally gets from a tank of fuel (I’m an inveterate measurer of such things), and am quite convinced that normal cars these days should have a range of about 600km in country driving. Again, mental maths suggests that our total driving distance from Copiapo to the next fuel stop at El Salvador should be around 550km. Victor is driving quite economically, so we should be fine. No es problema! Fingers crossed…

Alma is feeling a little ill at this stage, poor thing. She has had a little “bucket” fashioned out of some plastic bags made for her and she’s cradling it in her lap. Here’s hoping she holds it together. Not the most elegant of possibilities, but she is bearing up stoically. Before long, her body resolves that little problem by falling asleep. Here’s hoping she’s OK…

As we’re reaching the midway point of our journey, in terms of kilometres able to be travelled, we’re all starting to get a little nervous, although suddenly I see some landmarks I recognise as being near Laguna Verde, and resume the “she’ll be right, mate” attitude. We round a corner, and suddenly the Laguna comes in to view. At the risk of repeating my previous entries from here, the Lonely Planet guidebook describes it as “glowing like liquid kryptonite”, and sure enough, there it is. Both of the girls scream with excitement – it’s such an unexpected colour to see here, and I haven’t said much about it. Victor also keeps repeating “Wow”. I’m feeling the same. I’ve got plenty of pictures of it, but the colour and landscape around the lake are still awesome to see “live”. We pull over, take a series of photo’s, but as usual, the wind is ripping along and is very cold – it isn’t a place to linger without heaps of layers, and very good coat, and gloves.

We drive down to the edge of the lake, and surprise, there’s another vehicle with tourists in it. Just a man and woman, but nonetheless, it’s a surprise to see someone else here. The only people we’ve seen on the road have been roadworkers doing maintenance. A quick visit to the thermal pools to appreciate their warmth, jokingly threaten to go skinny dipping in the lake, then pile back into the car. It’s getting on in the day, we’ve got a long way to go, and it turns out we’re due to have lunch with Claudia’s uncle and aunt in El Salvador. Not sure what time they are expecting us, but we’re definitely going to be late.

The road to El Salvador heads north from Salar Maricunga, so there’s a bit of back-tracking but the scenery in the opposite direction is still not boring! We head north now, aiming for Salar Pedernales, which again for me, is not so interesting as Maricunga. Next on the highlight list is the big canyon we drive down into to get down of the high plain. Again, heaps of ooh’s and aah’s and a stop for more photo’s. It also helps to conserve a bit of fuel, as we descend through it, and onwards down through the valley in neutral for the better part of 20 kilometres. Victor is even feeling so happy with the fuel situation that we zip along at 100km/h instead of the previous 80 that we’ve been travelling at to conserve fuel. The warning light is also on… For the life of me, I can’t recall how much further there is to go, but I do remember exactly the same situation on the bike when I bought it through here. Difference was, I had spare fuel… I decide not to mention the 10k’s or so of pretty much constant uphill that are between us and the fuel station in El Salvador!

We finally roll in to El Salvador at around 3.30pm or so, much later than expected. First things first, let’s get some fuel! As we head to Claudia’s aunt and uncles place, we drive right past Alexis’ brother’s place. I have a little flash of recognition, and then we’re past. “Oooh”, I say, pointing back behind us, but too late, the moment is gone.

Aunt and Uncle welcome us to their house with the kind of Chilean hospitality that is possible to find here, but not often on display in the streets and certainly not ever displayed in the queues at bus terminals while waiting to retrieve one’s bags! It looks like we’re going to be welcomed with a feast, not just a meal. Empanadas all round to begin with – home made and just excellent. There’s the usual consternation displayed when I try to politely refuse due to their containing shellfish, but it’s taken with good grace. Aunt disappears back to the kitchen after this while we everyone munches away and has a very welcome drink. She reappears after a seemingly short time, and much to my embarrassment, has quickly whipped up four cheese empanadas especially for me. It seems I’ll be expected to eat all of them by myself. It’s a mission I choose to accept! Not sure how I’m going to be able to eat anything else afterwards – I guess it is fortunate that salads don’t take up a lot of room. There’s a huge selection of them, and I’m told with a dead-straight face by Victor that they are all for me and I’m expected to eat them all. In the moment, I believe him for a few seconds, until the worried look on my face causes his demeanour to crack, just a little. I laugh. One day I’ll remember not to believe anything he says…

Dessert is a highlight. It features a fruit called chirimoya, which is about the size and shape of an avocado (although Wikipedia declares that it is heart-shaped), but has bumps on its dark green skin. It is peeled, sliced/diced, then drizzled with orange juice and subsequently eaten. The texture is rather like that of a pear, but the flavour is something else when combined with the juice of the orange. Delicious, but very sweet!

We eventually it is time to leave, having finished lunch at somewhere around 5pm! Off we go, but it seems that Aunt and Uncle are coming along with us (in their own car). They guide us through to the town of Diego de Almagro, up and over some hills and off into the distance as the sun is setting. We end up at something that I think is a kind of orchard or a tree plantation adjacent to what appears to be a man-made lake. I manage to miss understanding what it is about, but nonetheless have enjoyed the drive. Many of the trees lining the road are wattles, which are in full flower. All yellow pom-poms, and is an obvious reminder of Australia. I expect at any minute that a suicidal kangaroo or emu will come barging out of the bush in front of us!

We return to Diego, say our goodbyes, and it’s off into the distance, heading for the setting sun and Chanaral in the distance. We again are fortunate for the best view of Chanaral (I suspect the locals think that I’m a bit harsh in my opinion of it, but there you go…), passing through in the dark. Unfortunately it means that we can’t see the coast as we head south to Caldera and Bahia Inglesa. Having passed through only a month ago, it was really quite beautiful at the time and would’ve been nice for everyone to see. Still, it’s difficult to do everything in the one day!

We finally arrive at Caldera and go in search of a supermarket for supplies for breakfast etc. Dinner is to be at the El Plateao restaurant that overlooks the actual Bahia Inglesa. I’ve had lunch there before and enjoyed the crème brulee, so am looking forward to that. First though, we have to find the cabins we are to stay in. There’s a bit of mirth when we can’t find our way, but in the end, Victor sorts himself out and we find them. Turns out they are about 5km out of town, and it’s just a matter of finding the right road out of town!

The other four are staying in a family-type cabin, but I am fortunate. Victor has organised that I have a “romantic” cabin all to myself, which translates as suitable for two, and even better, it has a “romantic” bathroom, which turns out to mean an outdoors bathroom. There’s a toilet in the room, but the shower is outside in a little enclosed private garden attached to the main house. It’s actually very lovely, but given the breeze and the cool (not cold, given the proximity to the ocean) night, I ask specifically about whether there is actually hot water here. Yes, I’m assured, there definitely is hot water! The other thing about my room is that it is built for Chileno’s. The roof is only over 185cm (6 ft) in the very middle of the room, otherwise it is stooping and moving slowly for me, otherwise I’ll belt my head on the rafters! Fortunately the bed is nice and firm!

Dinner at the restaurant is lovely (again) – good food and good wine, capped off again by an excellent crème brulee. This time, the top is more caramelised than the last one, which makes it that bit better! Problem being that I’ve eaten so much during the entrée and main that I’m struggling. Andrea has done the same and hasn’t ordered dessert, but I convince her that she should have some because it is so delicious, and in short order, we’ve polished it off. It seems that Alma has never had crème brulee before, so we try to convince her to taste some, however that is like trying to convince little kids that peas are yummy, and when Andrea eventually gets some in to her mouth, the look on Alma’s face is priceless. I think it is fair to say that she won’t be trying another crème brulee for some time!

Back to the cabins, a bottle or two of vino and some chatting, and wow, it’s late! Time for bed. I crawl into my lovely firm bed somewhat after 1AM and crash out. I don’t think I hear any of the sounds of the beach at all.

A

15 October 2010

Despite it being a short week due to the long weekend and my trip to Argentina, I'm looking forward to the weekend. I'm off to the mountains again on Saturday with one of the work team, Victor, who has flown his wife (Claudia), Claudia's good friend (Andrea) and Andrea's daughter (Alma) to the north for a visit. This time, I'm playing tour guide, having been there before, while the rest of the gang haven't. We plan to visit the Salar Maricunga, Laguna Verde, then track back and head north to El Salvador, before driving out to the coast (Chanaral) and down to Bahia Inglesa, where we will stay for the night. Sunday sees us planning to head south down the coast to Huasco, checking out the flowers, which should be in full swing, lunching in Huasco, then returning to Bahia Inglesa for the night. The girls will fly back home on Monday morning, and then Victor and I will have to resume our normal work lives…

Because Saturday will be such a big day (around 700km, from memory), the girls have flown in this afternoon so that we can have an early start tomorrow. Dinner at the casino is a bit of a "welcome to Copiapo". We meet in front of the office, where there is a news van, complete with enormous extendable antenna set up on the footpath. Seems a bit much trouble to go to for my arrival…

Walter, our boss, is coming along as well, which makes for six into a five seat vehicle. Perfectly normal in Chile, but given my size, I decide that it just isn't going to work, so I catch a collectivo to the casino. For the life of me, I can't recall which number is the right one to get into, so I stand on the edge of the road trying to read the signs on their roofs as they whizz past, but alas, none of them say Casino. In the end, I take a punt and assume that there is a fair chance that one will go close enough for me to only have a short walk. I hail one, and climb in, 500 pesos in my hand, ready for the driver. I take up the final seat in the rear, and once settled, reach around the front seat to hand my money to the driver. Unfortunately for the very short lady in the front seat, I haven't been able to see her from my seat, and clip her around the ears, so which she doesn't respond. Deeply embarrassed, I apologise profusely (repeatedly, with my one word of apology that I know – I think I need to learn some more), although the other passengers in the rear seem to find it quite funny that I've belted another passenger in the head. Nice…

After handing over the cash and declaring my destination, it seems the collectivo isn't actually going to the casino. No problems, close enough is good enough. I settle back and commence making small talk with the two year old on the lap of the lady next to me. It's a bit embarrassing – he's better than me. I really do need to practice more. Nonetheless, we chat a bit, which he finds very interesting, and his parents find very amusing. As I exhaust my vocabulary, we arrive at a set of traffic lights right near the casino. Hmmph, we are going right past the casino after all. Either they were pulling my leg, or I misunderstood. Anyway, I unfold myself out of the seat and exit the car. It's only 200m to the casino, but I find myself checking for my wallet three times in that distance. I think I might have become a little paranoid.

My arrival at the casino coincides with the others paying their entry fee (I think I've mentioned this before – it seems crazy, but is apparently designed to keep the riff-raff out). We make our way to the tables, which are tucked up against the window, and two of the seats are impossible to access without walking on top of the chairs. It's very funny, and rather than force one of the girls to do it, I do – it's amazing what you get away with as a gringo (tee hee hee), and people just roll their eyes.

Walter (excellent English) and Victor (reasonable) choose to sit at the other end of the table, leaving me to the mercy of the girls. None of them initially admit to much English, although it turns out that both Claudia and Andrea understand sufficiently to help me out with my Spanglish as required, although they mercilessly don't volunteer too much until I desperately need help! Nonetheless, the evening passes well, and we spend a lot of time chatting, which is great. It is fabulous to speak to some "non-work" people. One small problem is that the menu has changed since my last visit, and the relatively vegetarian-friendly options have pretty much all disappeared (they did an excellent lasagne). The only thing left is a pizza, but here they are meant for multiple people and is too much for me. Fortunately Andrea comes to the rescue and offers to share a half and half pizza. Very kind, although ultimately, both of us were a bit disappointed in it. Bring back the lasagne, please!

It's an early start for tomorrow, so off to bed for some shut-eye. I'm looking forward to the day – should be fun, and how crazy is this, I'm the tour guide…

13 October 2010

Well, it seems that the rescue of "Los 33" has progressed quite well during the night, with no glitches. Excellent news, and yep, there is still some semblance of a fiesta going on in the Plaza, although very much tamed down from the initial euphoria. People have short attention spans these days…

The rescue progresses well during the day, and surprisingly, everyone turns up at work and has a reasonably productive day. By night time, there's only a few left and it's looking like the rescue will conclude tonight, much earlier than originally expected. Fabulous news on any number of accounts, not least because the hooting of car horns might cease one of these days! I'm sure that Chileno's have the loudest car horns in the universe.

As the recovery of the final few miners draws closer, I head down to the Plaza again to take in more of the experience. The excitement continues to build and whatever time it was (late, after midnight, I'm sure) when the final guy comes out, the place erupts. It's very emotional for all concerned, including several of the "vagabonds" lurking nearby, and one of them decides that he and I need to shake hands for a very long time, embrace briefly, and chat about how wonderful it all is. I'm ashamed to say that I didn't enjoy that one bit of spontaneous excitement – all I could think of was him lifting my wallet from me… When he finally left me alone, I patted all of my pockets to ensure that everything was still there. And of course, no problem.

 I roamed the Plaza for a while afterwards, enjoying the celebrations and taking a few photo's, but I'm sleep deprived and need to hit the hay. Fortunately the crowd seem to be feeling the same and appear to be dispersing quite rapidly. I head for my apartment and climb into bed. As tired as I am (again – sounds like a stuck record, doesn't it), I struggle to get to sleep for a while due to those damn car horns. Yes, it's all very exciting, but really, do you STILL need to be doing laps around the Plaza and tooting constantly? I think NOT!

A

12 October 2010

My bus doesn't depart until 10.30AM, so I take the opportunity to duck into Santiago this morning to drop off copies of my passport and tourist visa to "my lawyer" Barbara. I haven't caught the train during peak hour before, and just before 9AM, it's pretty well packed. Despite that, I manage to find an Andrew-sized space to stand in and off we go. Trains in Santiago – brilliant, love them! Fast, frequent and clean…

I don't know about lawyers in the rest of the world, but Barbara certainly doesn't get to the office before about 10.30AM, so I have to navigate through reception and her assistant, but in the end, I get my message through about what I need done. They're very patient with my mentally practiced Spanish, complete with incorrect pronunciation, bad grammar and the like, listening very carefully to it all, before responding in fluent English… It's smiles all round 5 minutes later when the secretary returns and hands back my documents. Hooray – I'm free to go. That was the last little chapter of getting the process going again for my work visa!

Back to the train, via my friends at Starbucks, and I make it to the bus terminal with 15 minutes to spare. Perfect timing. All aboard the bus, and I settle in for the next 12 hours, watching the scenery trundle past. This time, I'm sitting next to a guy who has his mobile phone surgically attached to his ear, so no chatting is possible. I watch some movies, listen to some music, play some games on my mobile, and stare idly out the window. The seat is comfortable enough that I feel happily at peace with the world! I may even get a bit of shut-eye…

We roll in to La Serena in the late afternoon and I duck off to the bathroom. On my return, I'm sure the bus has been moved, and my concerned glances attract the attention of a loitering security guard. I think that I manage to explain that it's no problem, as I've just figured out which bus is which, but he insists on questioning me for much longer, trying to be helpful, but it takes some time to convince him that all is good, after which, he wanders off, feeling rather confused (I'm sure) as to what the hell that was all about! Eventually, he decides to have a second crack, and comes back and starts chatting. Unfortunately, like most Chileno's, it's very rapid, and my requests for him to speak slowly again have no obvious impact. Despite my thinking I understand what he wants to know, and replying in what should be an appropriate way, it clearly isn't the right answer for him. We take it in turns at thumbing through my small Lonely Planet dictionary, but neither of us can find the appropriate words. In hindsight, it must have been quite comical to watch, but at the time, frustrating for both of us.

Eventually, there are signs of needing to get back on the bus and resume the trip, so I'm freed from my mental anguish of understanding the crazed security guy. It's a strange thing – with some people, they just seem to get what I'm trying to say and vice versa. Others, well, they might as well be speaking Swahili – I have no idea and they don't seem to understand me. I suppose one day I'll figure it all out…

The rest of the trip is fairly mundane, and done in the dark. One thing that is finally resolved for me is the issue of wind turbines here in Chile. My experience of the coast so far is that it is relentlessly windy. I understand completely that this could just be a snapshot of the season that I am here in, but it seems perfect for building wind farms for electricity generation. In the La Serena area though, there is quite an extensive farm and it just looks stunning. It's the closest I've been to them and they are just huge – dozens and dozens of them, all lines up geometrically. Beautiful, and I think back to the angst going on at times about the building of a coal powered electricity generation plan to the north. I'm damned if I can understand why they'd bother – just build more of these…

I also have a new passenger sitting beside me, who is in for a chat or so it seems. It seems he is a "perforista" and doesn't bat an eyelid when I say I'm a geologist. Looks like he knows all about them, and the reason becomes clear a few seconds later when my mental cogs finally click into place and I remember that a perforista is none other than a driller. We spend a while chatting about the exploration side of things and his time in that, and it even turns out he has worked for our current drilling contractor in the past. He now works at a lithium mine near San Pedro de Atacama, and given that I've been there recently, we chat about that too, before he patiently explains, with the help of many diagrams in his notebook, how the process works in the lithium mine and his role in that. Afterwards, I explain to him how my work arrangements are – trying to explain a secondment to a Joint Venture company with my Spanish is difficult, but with the aid of diagrams in his notebook, all seems clear. After all of that, we settle back and watch the movie and doze.

I arrive into Copiapo a bit after 10PM and am in my apartment for about 10.30PM. There is clearly something big going on with the mineros underground, as there is a heap of noise from all of the people in the Plaza. I prepare to dump my bags, have a drink, check some emails and head down to see what's happening. I flick the television on and am just in time to see the first rescue cage being lowered down the shaft. It's an amazing moment to watch and the noise increase from the Plaza suggests that the crowd there are feeling the emotion of the moment. I certainly feel it too, as the first guy climbs out of the capsule and into the arms of all of the heavies involved with the rescue. It's extraordinarily difficult to believe that all is OK, that the rescue plans have gone as smoothly as they have, and the mineros are being extracted months before the promised date – a classic case of "under-promise, over-deliver".

I search for my phone to call Alexis and see whether he is in the Plaza with the rest of the throng, and my euphoria begins a slow disappearing act. My phone is not in my pants pockets, nor is it in my coat pockets. I search my bag – no, not there. Backpack? Nada. Computer bag? Nope. Mierda! I search again. I KNOW that I've had it on the bus, so it can only be in my coat, my computer bag or my backpack, yet searching again, no trace. Mierda, mierda, mierda! Another trip, and I've lost another thing. And it is my useful Chilean phone as well. I don't seem to be able to lose the Australian one, which no-one would care about, as it's three years old. Oh well, nothing to be done about it now. I'll get Lizette to help me contact Tur Bus in the morning and see if someone has handed it in.

I head down into the Plaza to see what else is going on, and it's looking like the next guy will be out before too long. The cheers of the crowd that erupt when number two makes it out send a shiver down my spine. The mood is euphoric. His name is Mario Sepulveda, and while not the spitting image of one of my co-workers, it is easy to imagine they are related, especially given Victor's surname is also Sepulveda. He has become known as 'Super Mario' and appears to be somewhat of a character, having brought souvenir rocks to the surface to hand out to all of the dignitaries. He also revs up the crowd with the national "Chi Chi Chi – Le, Le, Le, Viva Chile!!" chant. I can't help but smile broadly, wondering if the rest of the mineros underground are breathing a sigh of relief that he is now above ground and that they might get some peace and quiet! I imagine that he was definitely the motivator of the bunch during the initial long and dark days!

The noise of the place is not quite deafening, but very loud.  Plenty of cheering, car horns being tooted by the endless parade of cars doing laps of the streets (very slowly), and basically a whole bunch of very happy people out and about.  Even the dogs were out in force, although thankfully their barking was drowned out by the other noise.

After the enthusiasm of that moment, the crowd starts to thin, and by the time the third guy comes out, is down to a few hundred people left, although still no lack of euphoria from the crowd for the moment. For me though, seeing as it's now about two in the morning, and I'm feeling a little weary, it's definitely time for hitting the sack. I make my way to my apartment, say goodnight to the security guys, walk through the door, climb into bed, and wonder about whether the noise will keep me awake or not. No need to have worried – I don't remember anything else for the rest of the night.


Saludos,


Andrew

11 October 2010

It seems I've only just gone to sleep and the alarm is ringing in my ear to advise me of the fact that it is time to get up. It's fair to say that I'm struggling this morning. I ended up having to turn the airconditioner on last night, as Mendoza is quite a deal warmer than Copiapo of a night, which I am not at all used to. That, combined with the lovely cold that I've got from my fellow sneezing passenger, who insisted on spraying it around the bus for 7 hours, means that it is hard to get out of bed. Not much choice though, unless I want to spend a few more days here in Mendoza. It's an attractive thought and I linger on it for a few seconds more than absolutely necessary, but in the end, push it aside and get ready for another day on a bus.

The shower in my apartment is amusingly small, measuring not much more than half a metre by half a metre, but on the plus side, there is an abundance of scaldingly hot water to get my senses moving. After packing everything and wondering about how I'm going to negotiate the exit door AND leave my key behind It's necessary to use the key to lock the door on the way out), Jorge (my host) rescues me by arriving to open the door and reclaim the key to the apartment. I say my goodbyes and am warmly thanked for my visit. Anyone visiting Mendoza and being interested in an apartment (rather than a hotel room) could do worse than stay at the "Modigliani Art & Design Suites" (Modigliani was a famous painter).

I wander off to the bus terminal with plenty of time to spare, such that I even have time to scout the bakery type shops at the bus terminal in search of something palatable for breakfast. Being South America (so it seems), all of the pastries are loaded with sugar. I settle on a couple of croissants (local name being "media luna") and a custard filled delight for which I can't recall the name, but was actually the better of the two, given the croissants were liberally dosed with sugar.

Despite a small amount of panic about missing the right bus (they're not so big on obvious signage for gringo's here), a bus eventually turns up 15 minutes or so late, with a small sign advertising it as going to Santiago, and parks in approximately the right position. I push my way forward and before long, have my bag taken from me and stashed in the cargo hold, I get my ticket checked on the bus, and it's all aboard for the return journey.

Despite being assured that the buses are actually flat out today, given all of the Chileno's returning home after their long weekend, the bus leaves only half full. I've got no one sitting next to me and no-one is sneezing yet, so the trip is looking OK. It's also quite sunny, so I've got a good chance of some scenery!

I snap away at the scenery, which is equally breathtaking heading to the west! The day is very clear, and I'd swear that there is a heap more snow on the hills than there was yesterday. As I mentioned, the peaks are much sharper here than they are to the north, and the whole vista is just stunning. As we hit the customs point, the highest point in South America, Aconcagua, is somewhere above me, but I don't know enough about it to know what it looks like. So, it's possibly in one of my photo's, but I don't really know. It's apparently a serious peak for mountain climbers, and still catches people out every now and again. I understand there has been at least one fatality there this year…

Customs and border control are again rather amusing, with no real clear sense of what to do and where to go. The people in the queue in front of me are processed quite rapidly, however when I arrive at the window, the official gets up from his seat and disappears for about five minutes with no explanation, leaving me rather bemused about the whole thing and wondering whether I should get into another queue, or whether he'll be back in 20 seconds more. One of the other officials (a relatively young girl) is busy watching a movie on her computer while dealing with customers who dare to interrupt her. Quite how she pulls that off is a mystery, given all the other officials seem to be working quite diligently – perhaps it's just that I can't see the movies they are watching…

The trip back to Santiago is somewhat uneventful, with the exception of the extraordinarily curvy section (see photos). We stop for 10 minutes at a terminal on the outskirts of town and I experience yet another of the bathroom mysteries of the world – the officially sanctioned amount of toilet paper that you will use for this visit which is handed over when you pay your money to enter. Regardless of whether you need it or not. Suffice to say, having been caught short on one occasion, the "experienced" traveler ensures that he/she has their own supply in their backpack, just in case…

I've arrived back in Santiago late in the afternoon and don't depart for Copiapo until tomorrow morning, so I wander the center of the city (again) for a while in the glorious afternoon sun, have a refreshing salad for a late lunch, enjoy an ice cream, then it's off to my apartment for the evening.

I catch up on a bit of the news and it seems that the rescue of the miners trapped at Copiapo could be happening as early as tomorrow, which is just incredible news given the original promise of having them out by Christmas. Fingers crossed it all goes smoothly, not to mention that I make it back to Copiapo in time for the fiesta!

A