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
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