Leaving Valparaiso for Iquique, another Chilean coastal town much further north and pinned to the ocean by the Atacama Desert, means roughly 29 hours on a bus as you drive first south to Santiago, and then transfer to an overnight coach. I´ve heard nothing but praise for Chilean buses so far, but this trip was awful. For lunch we had a shrimp, shredded cabbage and mayonaise sandwich-- which I couldn´t finish-- and for dinner we had a chicken filet and mayonaise sandwich, although I could never find the chicken. Mayonaise and a hamburger bun; that about sums up Chilean cruisine for me.
I did read about 200 pages of Garcia Marquez´s Love in the Time of Cholera, although that, or the interminable journey, or both, made me sick for home. I wanted to play music again, and I wanted to ride my bike to Waffle House, or Cook Out, or El Rodeo, or all three. To make things worse, the Atacama Desert, which I had such high hopes for, kind of appears and disappears without warning. After hours of dust and boulders and trash along the side of the road, you finally reach hours of sand and small rocks and trash along the side of the road. Tire tracks run like scars through the landscape, never to be washed away by rains that never come. Only at sunset does the desert redeem itself; the foreground gives way to the brilliance of the suns slanted rays, and the hills stand silhouetted against the everchanging pastels of twilight. But it´s all over too soon, and then your eyes are forced to the tv playing a low quality vhs without sound or subtitles. The desert is a melancholy place.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Jumbo Easy
I have seen the future, and the future is Jumbo Easy. Imagine if someone took Home Depot, Dick´s sporting goods, REI and a superWalmart, crammed them into the same place, and then plopped down a bank and a nail salon in the middle. That´s Jumbo Easy. Camping supplies next to frozen dinners? Why not? Now why the name is in english... that´s the real question.
Valparaiso
Valparaiso, or Valpo as the locals know it, is a city made for wandering. With patience and flexibility, aided by long hours of sunlight, you can explore the winding streets and side passages to find bursts of color around every corner. But be warned--throw your map away now; if you have a destination in mind, forget about it. The city´s Escher-like layout is unkind to those seeking the particular, and unforgiving to those looking for order or efficiency.
Imagine a funnel cut in half and folded like an accordion; that´s basically Valparaiso. To walk from one side of downtown to the other, along the coast, takes about 30 minutes. To do so any other way will take hours, and could take days. You might start walking up one of the many cerros or hills, and find the road splits in two; so you follow one road and it dead ends, but offers a pedestrian passage over to the next road-- but that road might go up or down a different hill, only to backtrack later to nearly where you were before. Did I mention many of the streets aren´t signed, at least not at intersections where it would be useful? Did I mention that with many of the streets you´re looking at a 45 degree slope? Did I mention that many of the streets that start in one direction will twist and turn, change direction and elevation and deposit you somewhere even the map seems to have forgotten about?
But here in Valpo the journey is the destination. Dilapidated grand old mansions aside makeshift shanties; more color in the houses, the flowers, the walls and streets than seems reasonable or feasible; old men herding alpaca up broken concrete stairs. Its a feast for the senses, a kind of anarchic free for all. Not something I´ve found anywhere else.
Imagine a funnel cut in half and folded like an accordion; that´s basically Valparaiso. To walk from one side of downtown to the other, along the coast, takes about 30 minutes. To do so any other way will take hours, and could take days. You might start walking up one of the many cerros or hills, and find the road splits in two; so you follow one road and it dead ends, but offers a pedestrian passage over to the next road-- but that road might go up or down a different hill, only to backtrack later to nearly where you were before. Did I mention many of the streets aren´t signed, at least not at intersections where it would be useful? Did I mention that with many of the streets you´re looking at a 45 degree slope? Did I mention that many of the streets that start in one direction will twist and turn, change direction and elevation and deposit you somewhere even the map seems to have forgotten about?
But here in Valpo the journey is the destination. Dilapidated grand old mansions aside makeshift shanties; more color in the houses, the flowers, the walls and streets than seems reasonable or feasible; old men herding alpaca up broken concrete stairs. Its a feast for the senses, a kind of anarchic free for all. Not something I´ve found anywhere else.
Friday, January 4, 2008
Once in a Lifetime
I know that when I get home, the question I´ll get most is 'what´s the most amazing thing you saw?' Well, I have almost two months left, but I´m sure yesterday will fit in at the top somewhere. Imagine for a moment, standing in the crater of an active volcano, watching another volcano in the distance erupting. My words don't really do that situation justice, but try to really imagine it: the sulphur smell, the sounds of magma shifting, the rough lava rock clawing at your boots, and there only about 60 miles away, maybe less, an eruption making frontpage news across the world. It's not scary but it should be-- cheering on one explosion of lava, while hoping the lava directly below you stays put. Wrapping my mind around that still makes me smile.
The descent of the volcano is worth mentioning too; you climb up trudging like a pack mule. But coming down you squat, lean back and slide for all your worth, using an ice pick to guide yourself, but always enjoying those moments of out-of-control spinning, tumbling and slipping on the ice.
The descent of the volcano is worth mentioning too; you climb up trudging like a pack mule. But coming down you squat, lean back and slide for all your worth, using an ice pick to guide yourself, but always enjoying those moments of out-of-control spinning, tumbling and slipping on the ice.
People Make the Place
Despite everything I´ve seen so far, natural wonders and cultural capitals, the people on the street are almost the best part. I never get to photograph them and they´ll be forgotten before long, so here is a lazy attempt to record this overlooked aspect of travelling:
The kid in Puerto Varas walking with, I assume, his grandmother, rocking a full mullet and a Guns and Roses jacket that had been altered to say Punk Rock by changing the G to an P, etc... I almost broke down laughing when I saw that; The waiter at Rap Hamburguer who wanted to know how mispelled the name was in english; The street dogs that lay down at your feet and either sleep or paw at you until you pass them some food; The local women that all wanted to dance with Geoff on New Year's since we was tall and white; The metalhead couple using both sides of a public phonebooth, passing pesos back and forth as they each ran out of minutes; Our canyoning guide who spent 6 months studying mountaineering in Spain; The human pyramid trying to pick fruit off a tall tree down the street from our hostel.
The kid in Puerto Varas walking with, I assume, his grandmother, rocking a full mullet and a Guns and Roses jacket that had been altered to say Punk Rock by changing the G to an P, etc... I almost broke down laughing when I saw that; The waiter at Rap Hamburguer who wanted to know how mispelled the name was in english; The street dogs that lay down at your feet and either sleep or paw at you until you pass them some food; The local women that all wanted to dance with Geoff on New Year's since we was tall and white; The metalhead couple using both sides of a public phonebooth, passing pesos back and forth as they each ran out of minutes; Our canyoning guide who spent 6 months studying mountaineering in Spain; The human pyramid trying to pick fruit off a tall tree down the street from our hostel.
Lessons Learned
--I am not graceful. Not even a little bit. Watching a video of me rapelling down a 37 foot waterfall would probably make you wince at my clumsy technique. But no video exists, and the photos... well, we paid six times more for them than we were told originally, and they are still worth every penny.
--Israelis, love `em or hate `em, have got to be the most travelling group of people in the world. Three nights ago they came in at two in the morning, turned on all the lights, laughing and talking and carrying on like it was daytime. Two nights ago they woke up at three (or rather I was woken at three by an Israeli only wearing a towel, who needed to get into my room to wake the other Israelis) to hike the volcano and again turned on all the lights and talked loudly. Last night was quiet finally, but I woke up with an extra bed and two extra Israelis blocking access to the kitchen in my room. I can go days without interacting with another American, but Israelis are everywhere.
--Travellers will always try to distinguish themselves from tourists. My apologies to the travellers reading this, but we´re no different. We stay longer and spend less money, but we still speak english all day and gawk at the same sights on the same tours. Stop putting yourself on a pedestal.
--There is no such thing as a 'typical' tour. Even in Pucon, where we did a volcano ascent that was exactly like every other tour company, we returned to town and pulled into the guide's driveway so that his family could gather our neon orange uniforms and hiking boots and helmets and assorted junk to be washed and sorted for the next day's trip. It's fascinating to see where the locals live, what condition they live in.
--Touristy locations are not just like home. Sure, they have some of the same stores and restaurants, but just this morning I was walking past a mechanic shop that was playing Twisted Sister´s We´re not gonna take it in Spanish. And for whatever reason, when you hear western pop songs they´re as likely to be covers as originals. I´ve heard Oasis, Alice in Chains and Green Day covers in the last week, and all in english no less.
--Israelis, love `em or hate `em, have got to be the most travelling group of people in the world. Three nights ago they came in at two in the morning, turned on all the lights, laughing and talking and carrying on like it was daytime. Two nights ago they woke up at three (or rather I was woken at three by an Israeli only wearing a towel, who needed to get into my room to wake the other Israelis) to hike the volcano and again turned on all the lights and talked loudly. Last night was quiet finally, but I woke up with an extra bed and two extra Israelis blocking access to the kitchen in my room. I can go days without interacting with another American, but Israelis are everywhere.
--Travellers will always try to distinguish themselves from tourists. My apologies to the travellers reading this, but we´re no different. We stay longer and spend less money, but we still speak english all day and gawk at the same sights on the same tours. Stop putting yourself on a pedestal.
--There is no such thing as a 'typical' tour. Even in Pucon, where we did a volcano ascent that was exactly like every other tour company, we returned to town and pulled into the guide's driveway so that his family could gather our neon orange uniforms and hiking boots and helmets and assorted junk to be washed and sorted for the next day's trip. It's fascinating to see where the locals live, what condition they live in.
--Touristy locations are not just like home. Sure, they have some of the same stores and restaurants, but just this morning I was walking past a mechanic shop that was playing Twisted Sister´s We´re not gonna take it in Spanish. And for whatever reason, when you hear western pop songs they´re as likely to be covers as originals. I´ve heard Oasis, Alice in Chains and Green Day covers in the last week, and all in english no less.
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
Starting the New Year with a Bang
Arriving in Pucon on January 1st, I was thinking about New Year´s resolutions. Now, confronting your fears is kind of a vague resolution, but that´s more or less what I´ve settled on; I was originally thinking of skydiving here, since where else can you jump out of a plane over an active volcano, but the price ($300) is something I´m not ready to confront.
So instead I´ll be canyoning today (which as I understand it, means rapelling down waterfalls and generally overcoming your fear of heights and cold water) and climbing a volcano tomorrow. Now as some of you know, the first volcano I climbed in Guatemala left me doing a search and rescue with the American Embassy the next day. This trip should me much more organized and I´m not so worried about that, but apparently a volcano about 60 miles north erupted last night for the first time in 20 years-- causing the locals to be evacuated, and somebody at the BBC´s ears to perk up. Its strange looking at international news on the net, knowing it´s taking place an hour away on the bus (and almost making me wish I´d caved in on that skydiving package which probably would have been the best view on the block).
So keep your fingers crossed that the eruption continues until at least tomorrow around lunch, so that I can see it from my volcano, but that it doesn´t cause any other eruptions in this area. Hopefully, my days of search and rescue are over.
So instead I´ll be canyoning today (which as I understand it, means rapelling down waterfalls and generally overcoming your fear of heights and cold water) and climbing a volcano tomorrow. Now as some of you know, the first volcano I climbed in Guatemala left me doing a search and rescue with the American Embassy the next day. This trip should me much more organized and I´m not so worried about that, but apparently a volcano about 60 miles north erupted last night for the first time in 20 years-- causing the locals to be evacuated, and somebody at the BBC´s ears to perk up. Its strange looking at international news on the net, knowing it´s taking place an hour away on the bus (and almost making me wish I´d caved in on that skydiving package which probably would have been the best view on the block).
So keep your fingers crossed that the eruption continues until at least tomorrow around lunch, so that I can see it from my volcano, but that it doesn´t cause any other eruptions in this area. Hopefully, my days of search and rescue are over.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
