Dust

Salta - San Pedro de Atacama - Tocanao - Socaire - Arica - Tacna - Arequipa

Last I left you, we were in Salta, Argentina. In many respects, our comfort level has changed dramatically since then. Our shoes are covered in a thick layer of dust and sand. We own hats now, partly to keep out the cold of the night and partly to keep out the tropical rays of sunshine during the day. We take garlic pills every morning to help us with ward off altitude sickness. I haven't showered in about 48 hours, not for lack of necessity. Josh is in bed at 7 pm with a stomach ache. Hopefully it's just road, sun, or altitude sickness, but it might be food poisoning.

(Note to his family: I think he's more uncomfortable than truly ill. It's not an unfamiliar kind of pain, and I think it will go away soon if it hasn't already. Still, we'll get it checked out tomorrow if it doesn't get better).

After Salta, we went to San Pedro de Atacama, a tiny town in the middle of the Atacama desert which has been an oasis/trade post for thousands of years. Now it is mobbed by tourists, and in this respect it is quite a goofy place. Imagine a town where Australians, Brits, Belgians, and Canadians walk around with wooly Andean hats that cover your ears and are covered in Alpacas. Everybody thinks they're an outdoorsman because they're covered in dust, but the infrastructure of the town basically ensures that tourists are essentially sheep that eat in the same places, sleep in the same places, and take tours to the same places at the same times. None of the locals walk away without taking a slice from the big fat pie that is voyeuristic, fully-catered adventurism.

Despite the trap, the things to be seen are fascinating. Massive sand dunes, salt flats, and incredible rock formations have been formed by two major mountain ranges smashing them together. The desert itself is a dry expanse (some parts have never seen rainfall...ever) that rests between about 20 volcanoes, a few of which are active on an annual basis. Despite this inhospitality, amazing fauna flourishes in the area. Vicuñas, the endangered alpaca-like creature that is famous in Chile, eats the rugged pajabrava ("brave dry grass") that adds color to the high plane terrain. We saw several surrounding alpine lagoons, and while we were restricted from getting too close by tribal rangers, the sight of their long necks dipping into the impossibly blue water was truly fantastic to see. We also saw flamengos flying and feeding in a lake that had formed amidst the salt flats. These birds are, as Josh put it, "bizzare" to say the least, but are pretty spellbinding to watch in the wild.

So, even though there was a bit of the "would you like to pet this llama?" or "would you like to go inside this cave with a bunch of Germans?" kind of tourism, there was also something very beautiful (if not exactly charming) about the desert. Of course, some of the most interesting experiences came from parts that were not "on the tour." For example, all the lights went out one night while Josh and I were cooking our usual italian delight. We stepped outside to see some of the most terrific stars of the journey.

Despite its high points, I can't say that either of us was sad to leave San Pedro. We caught a night bus north to Arica, where we bought tickets to Arequipa, Peru at 6 am the next morning. Instead of buying bus tickets like we had thought, we instead were placed in a taxi cab in the dark for half an hour until the driver came to bring us to the Peruvian border...which was closed. Josh enjoyed talking to some Brits outside. I sat in the car fuming, partly at being slightly ripped off, and partly at being hungry and cold and miserable. Eventually, the borders opened and we made it to the bus station to catch an early bus (the Brits, on the other hand, were not so lucky. Their "morning bus" actually ended up being at 4 pm and 6pm, and they were forced to spend the rest of the day doing God knows what in the town of Tacna).

Our earlier ticket included fare on a pretty nice bus, and we were happy to have seats on the second floor that directly faced the window. It was like a roller coaster ride for a while as the bus plowed through the southern Peruvian desert along roads that stretched to the horizon. As the heat of the day intensified and the road began to wind through mountain passes, however, we both began to feel feverishly hot. This was not helped by the fatigue of 20 hours of travel nor the fact that we had small seats and therefore were way too close for two smelly people to be.

A few hours ago, we finally reached Arequipa. It's an old colonial town surrounded by volcanoes and desert. We grabbed a quick bite, and I think it's safe to say that we've retired for the evening. Tomorrow I'm going to wake up and see what this place has up its sleeve, but for now, I think I'll take a shower, check on Josh again, get the smell of dust out of my nose, and finish my book.