I realized today that it's already 11 days into the new year and we haven't blogged about our adventures over new years. I have cut and pasted Brian's journal entry about our trip to Chile. I will post pictures to go with it soon.
Love Norma
Brian writes;
December 27-Jan 4th , 2010
Today we spent the day packing in anticipation of making the big trip to Chile. We went over to the Guthries for a short while in the afternoon after spending all morning packing. We had a bite to eat and made our final preparations then Duane drove us to the bus terminal. We were way too early and had to wait in what was a madhouse of activity. It appears evenings are prime time for travel or perhaps it was just the Sunday after Christmas and everyone was heading home. We would be taking Trans Azul bus line to Oruro then transferring to the bus to Iquique. We got our tickets and headed for the gate only to be rejected by a man at the gate. Apparently we needed some form of ticket that we did not possess. After a few back and forth exchanges we figured out we needed to buy a terminal user fee. I found the kiosk and payed the 2.5 Bs per head and we were off. There were two buses heading to Oruro and were on bus #2. We found our spots on the very modern and new looking bus. Exactly at 8:00pm we headed off, picking up a few stragglers and rolling out of the terminal at 8:10pm. The trip to Oruro went off without a hitch and we made good time arriving exactly 4 hours later. When we arrived, our Trans Lujan bus was waiting in front of us. Despite being in Bolivia the transfer of buses took less than 15 minutes and we were on the road. We were disappointed to find that the bus was not as they showed on the flyers. As we settled in and there was jockeying to use the bathroom we comprehended the common problem on Bolivian buses, too many people. We were carrying an extra six people on our bus and one was sleeping at the entrance to the bathroom. It was now nearly 1:00am and as we left the lights of the city, the darkness settled in the cabin. Soon the driver’s assistant came around and passed out blankets for the chilly ride across the altiplano. The only problem is that they smelled like they recently came off the back of a horse or had spent time on the farm. We accepted the blankets and kept them away from our faces. They turned off the lights in the cabin and a husband and wife, who were extras on the bus proceeded to make a spot for themselves back to back in the aisle between us and the kids. To my surprise, despite being the middle of the night the driver insisted on keeping the music (Bolivian folk music) blaring for the whole trip and the speaker was right above our heads. We found out later that only the right side of the bus had speakers and the kids enjoyed relative silence. The music didn’t seem to bother Norma who was quickly asleep. Sleep would not come that easily for me. The trip started alright but after an hour the road changed from pavement to something that can loosely be described as a road. I found out on the way home just how bad the road was and perhaps it was better that I experienced it during the night hours where the all pervasive darkness covers a multitude of road sins. We finally arrived at the border at 4:45am and all the extras guests left. Unsure of what was to happen next we soon realized that we were not going through the border at this hour. I tried to get some sleep but between the stifling air (no AC or heater) and too many bodies. I decided to walk around and get some fresh air. Pisiga is a town of about 50 on the Altiplano set in a valley between two huge mountains to the north and south. Stunning in beauty and desolate in poverty. I suppose it is the plight of most border towns but this one appeared to have the added disadvantage of isolation, altitude and poverty. The views were as breathtaking as the air at 3800m. We waited and waited until about 7:30am when our bus driver handed out customs forms. At 8:00 the border opened and the line of buses, of which we were number 6, began to process of crossing the border. When it was finally our time we left the bus with all our belongings and went through a very modern and organized system in a modern building. We found out on the way back that this was the Chilean border crossing and the Bolivian side was far less sophisticated. I tried to remember to look bewildered, which wasn’t difficult, and to not speak Spanish well, again not a huge stretch. We had to pay a small fine at the Bolivian side which we knew coming but they seemed rather conciliatory. We happily paid our $15 fine and moved on to Chilean customs. There was some questions about the status of our children which we were able to dodge with ignorance and politeness. It seems it is customary to carry birth documents for children travelling with their parents, a passport is not enough. I suppose it didn’t help that our children look more Bolivian than Canadian (the Canadian that Chileans would know). After an efficient and timely stop we were through and on our way down 3800m to Iquique. The road started off rough because a new road was under construction but after about 30 minutes the road improved and we picked up speed. It was 250 km to Iquique and we were able to make it in 3 hours. The landscape was very interesting. It took about 30 minutes to clear the Andes cordillera and that was the last sign of any moisture. With every kilometre closer to Iquique the landscape became more and more dry culminating in the last hour being nothing short of a complete desert. We finally arrived on the outskirts of Iquique which didn’t look like much. The actual town of Iquique is actually a tiny strip of land sandwiched between the sea and a mountain range that is the coastline of Chile. We descended and took in the sights of the sea. To my amazement there was actually a huge sand dune in the space between the town and mountain, near the south of town. Wierd. We arrived at the bus station. In typical South American fashion it was not actually a bus terminal but actually an intersection of two streets a number of blocks away from downtown and conveniently not a nice part of town. I found a place to make change and we hailed a cab to our condo. I made small talk with the cab driver and pumped him for information. I noticed right away that his Spanish was different from Bolivia. Chileans speak very fast and they truncate their “s” sounds. In Bolivia, the number six is seis but in Chile it is sei. It was interesting. We arrived at our condo and for once in my life I instantly said a prayer of thanks. You can research something on the internet but you are never sure if it will be everything it looks like but in this case it was all of that and a bag of chips. The security guard let us in and we found our new dueña . She let us into our new apartment for the week and instantly the sound of the surf filled our ears. Every room, even the kitchen had a view of the ocean and the sound of the pounding surf. It was heaven. We settled in and walked to find groceries. We walked the wrong way and found the Blockbuster by accident. Finally we arrived at Santa Isabel, the grocery store that was very reminiscent of a Safeway in Canada. We spent most of our pesos on groceries and realized that unlike Bolivia, the Chileans don’t accept US cash. Mental note! We took a cab home and filled the cupboards. All was well. After some discussions we decided to get it over with and go to McDonalds for our first dinner in Chile. Same bad food, now confirmed on two continents, but two happy children is sometimes worth the price.
The rest of the week consisted of daily trips to the beach. The beach visible from our condo window was called playa brava and was good for beach combing and boogie boarding. On the other side of the condo (about 3 blocks) was playa Cavancha, the main beach of Iquique and it was good for swimming and sun bathing. In typical South American fashion all manner of food, drinks and ice creams were available on playa Cavancha and we spent a healthy amount of money every day on snacks, ice cream and empanada. We enjoyed more than one laugh at the hilarious calls of the vendors as they called out their items for sale. Much like an American Baseball game they were barely understandable and unique at the same time.
