Preguntando Se Llega a Arica

For Chile’s Fiestas Patrias independence holidays the 18 and 19 of September, my friends Tracy, Irene, and I decided to explore the Atacama Desert, the world’s driest, on an excitement-packed 10 day adventure. We took SKY, Chile’s budget airlines, from Santiago to Arica, and I think it was the first flight I’ve taken with 2 intermediate stops. We hopped over to Copiapó and then Iquique before landing in Arica, the northernmost city in Chile with a population around 200,000.

We had reservations at Hostel Doña Ines, the Hostelling International location in Arica. The shuttle dropped us off at around 11pm on a totally empty, dark street, seemingly very distant from the center of the city. But soon enough two employees emerged to help us with our bags, and showed us to our room with a 2-high and 3-high bunk bed, a small kitchen, and small private bathroom inside the room! Once we entered the patio area of the hostel, the legendary owner Roberto greeted us by saying, “So which one of you is KAM!??!?!?!” He and I had probably exchanged a dozen emails in anticipation of the trip, with my constantly asking questions about the hostel, Arica, tours, the altiplano, etc etc and earning the nickname “Preguntín” (“One who Asks Questions!”).

After offering us welcome drinks, he invited us out to a club in Arica. Keep in mind that we had just spent almost 4 hours on a plane and it was by now past midnight. I was practically nodding off as we talked, but Tracy was gung-ho about going out, and Roberto performed hypnosis on me, so about 45 minutes later we found ourselves in the nautically themed discoteca Drake near the beach packed with young people dancing. It seemed like Roberto knew everyone inside, and I found out later that many of them were his buddies from the Chilean army stationed in Arica that seem to show up whenever Roberto goes somewhere. I should also mention that this was Tracy’s first encounter with a certain security guard (did we ever learn his name??), who seemed to have a not a GPS but a TPS (Tracy Positioning System) and ran into us several more times during our 4 days in Arica. We stayed out until the club closed (the first of 3 times that happened during the trip) at around 4:30 am.

Friday

Waking up at the crack of noon, after taking our time eating the bread, cheese, cereal, yogurt, and tea of the lauded “NO FU***** SCHEDULED BREAKFAST” that appears on all the hostel’s advertisements, we caught a colectivo (taxi along a fixed route) into the center of the city, which is all clustered around a street called 21 de Mayo (yes, a lot of street and even town names are actually dates).

We ran into Jeff, Paul, Amber, and Nicole, who had gotten to Arica before us and had just picked up their rental truck for their adventure driving through the altiplano to Parque Nacional Lauca and Parque Nacional Las Vicuñas further south. They gave us the name of Juan Segovia who had given them a tour of the city for 12,000 pesos (about $23). Since there are a bunch of interesting things to see in the area, we decided to call Señor Segovia and make a tour for the three of us.

We also walked around Arica a bit along the main street 21 de Mayo and found the 1913 Arica – La Paz Ferrocarril train station. I saw that trains ran out of the station to the altiplano, and there was also a cute restaurant beside the courtyard of the station. There was a massive iron scale I assume was used to weigh parcels and nicely kept flowerboxes around a patio area. It was a very lovely old-fashioned reminder of another era in this city.

Side note: as we were talking to the other 4 gringos, a large man came up behind Tracy, put her in a sort of headlock, and gave her a big hello kiss on the cheek. We all stared at him like, “Whaaaa?” and Tracy looked at him like, “Who the frigg’ are you?” Nicole even said, “Ella no conoce a ti” (“She doesn’t know you”). The man shook his head and said, “Tracy?” We were all shocked that he knew her name. You could see the expression on her face change from shock/horror to embarrassment/recognition as she remembered he was the security guard at the Drake club the night before. So… a little sketchy, maybe a little stalkerish, but at least not crazy.

After drinking a delicious “leche con fruta” (meaning “milk with fruit,” basically a froth smoothie) made with maracuya, we met up with Señor Segovia and his party van, and he told us that even though he’d charged the other kids 12,000 pesos, since we had called him directly he was giving us the same tour for half price! We were very excited…

And thus commenced our tour around Arica. There is a lot to see in the city, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Although it’s near the desert and closer to the equator than everything else in Chile, the weather was very pleasant since we were near the ocean.

Our first stop was a red and white church near 21 de mayo. You may not believe that Alexandre Gustave Eiffel can claim more than one building to his name, but in fact he was very active in South America before his legendary 1889 Parisian creation. He designed a clock tower in Pisagua, Chile; a cathedral in Tacna, Peru (1870); a bridge in Arequipa, Peru (1882); and in 1868 began work on la Iglesia de San Marcos in Arica, Chile. He was originally ivtied by Peruvian President José Balta to construct a church in Ancón, but the project relocated to Arica after an earthquake felled its cathedral in 1868. (Much of northern Chile belonged to Peru or Bolivia prior to the War of the Pacific (1879-84). “Guerra del Pacífico” in Spanish translates as “War of the Peaceful.”) The plates and girders were cast in an iron foundry in Paris and then transported to Chile, and the structure withstood an earthquake just two years after completion and again in 2001 when another powerful earthquake hit Arica.

So… props to Eiffel. Mister Infallible Tower Man, citizen of the world.

Señor Segovia then drove us further into the desert valley to show us the surprising abundance of agriculture based on drip irrigation. We saw maracuya (the fruit I had just tasted!) in its natural form (looks like a palta (avocado) with pink flesh inside and big, wet, bitter seeds in the middle), lots of tomato, and olive groves (also selling goods made from olive wood--- apparently the trees have to be at least 90 years old to be used). There were also many geoglyphs up on the hills created by indigenous people many centuries ago that have stood the test of time without any problems.

We passed golf course in the desert… don’t forget to pay the GREEN fee!

We followed Paul’s tip to visit a cemetery in the desert, which was aesthetically quite unusual. I couldn’t help wondering if the bodies entombed there become mummies themselves, given the total dryness of the area. And speaking of mummies, we saw the OLDEST mummies in the world, the Chinchorro mummies in the San Miguel de Azapa museum (that’s right: they’re not from Egypt). We learned that the various indigenous tribes of this region believed that gods lived in the Andes mountains to the east, so when the Spaniards arrived and started constructing churches, the natives insisted that the churches face north, not east, so as to not interfere with their conception of the divine.

As the day came to a close, we visited El Morro, a former Peruvian stronghold that was the site of a key battle in the War of the Pacific. Actually, just visiting Arica was an interesting history and culture lesson, since the area of far northern Chile and southern Peru changed hands several times between Chile, Peru, and Bolivia during that era. Today there are plenty of Peruvians and Bolivians in Chile, and with them plenty of discrimination. One Chilean told me that Chile is like South America’s United States, and Peru is like Chile’s Mexico. I guess my response to that is that the food of Chile and the United States is pretty boring, while their equatorial neighbors have delicious cuisine!

Saturday

We woke up early very excited and also a bit nervous for our trip up to the Chilean altiplano, due west of Arica. We knew that the paisaje (landscapes) would be incredible as we approached the Parque Nacional Lauca, but we also knew that ascending from sea level to 4,000+ meters (13,000+ ft) in a half day could potentially be very uncomfortable. We had the option of a 2 day trip which made a stop in the town of Putre for one night at 7,000 ft to acclimate, but since our time was limited, we decided to throw caution to the wind and hightail it to the altiplano.

I was pleasantly surprised that we were 3 of only 4 non-Chileans on the bus (the other being a Japanese exchange student in Santiago), so we managed to speak a good bit of español that day. Everyone on tour was older than us, in part because there was an ecology conference happening that weekend in Arica, so many of the doctoral students and professors took the tour on their off day. The question “How old are you?” never really figures into my speech at home, I guess since at Brown you’re somewhere between 18 and 22 usually, and the question would be “So, are you a junior?” But here in Chile, that question is so popular! Whenever we 3 gringas responded “Veinte,” the other people would look away and say, “Oh, we’re much older than that.” And that was that!

We drove for several hours through the hills of the desert, slowly gaining altitude, passing a “Zona Magnética” that apparently pulled our bus backwards and uphill when the driver put it into neutral. There was also a cactus nearby that everyone took pictures near, for some reason.

We moved on to a vista of the small city Putre, 54 km from Lauca, where multi-day tours stop for the night to allow people a day to acclimate. I guess for those that have time, I would recommend taking a multi-day trip to the altiplano stopping in Putre since nearly everyone feels some symptoms of soroche (altitude sickness). The tour provides breakfast, but it’s really just a cup of tea of coca leaves (mmmm… illegal) and a small cheese sandwich, since you’re supposed to eat very little when preparing to experience such a dramatic change in altitude. Irene and I got off easy with just bad headaches and fatigue as soon as we walked up or down the 5 steps of the bus. Exhausting! Tracy, on the other hand, kind of spilled her beans… or should I say pan y queso? I went into the bathroom with her not knowing she was about to throw up and yelled over the stall, “Hey, is there any toilet paper over there?” to no response from her. When I walked outside, I noticed she was washing some grime off her pants, and Irene told me the news, as Tracy was inhaling a a napkin damp with rubbing alcohol handed to her by the tour guide.

Just as a side note, in all these little pueblos on the side of the road, vendors would be selling llama scarves, mittens, wooden carvings, and big bags of dirty green coca leaves, which are supposed to be chewed to prevent soroche. They told us that it is also sold in powder form, but that’s more expensive…

We saw much wildlife the somehow thrives in the middle of the desert, including guanacos, llamas, alpaca, the wonderful vicuñs (all types of camel), vizcacha, and even a condor.

As the day and altitude progressed, we approached Parque Nacional Lauca and its famous Lago Chungará (one of the the world’s highest lakes, higher than Lake Titicaca (the world’s highest *navigable* lake). We were only 9 km from the Bolivian border, but we wouldn’t get to Bolivia until 5 days later.) When we finally reached it, people were putting on their extra jackets since it was a bit chilly. I was comfortable in my short sleeves, though I almost fell down as I got down the bus’s steps. Needless to say, I pressed on, undeterred.

We saw some lovely vicuñas eating nearby the lake, which was surrounded by the Nevados de Payachatas: the active volcanoes Parinacota and Pomerape. As I was clicking away photos, I realized that the clouds had almost entirely obscured the sky, and snow was beginning to fall! I was very excited, once again.

We reboarded the bus, and most people slept as we drove back to Arica. As the sun was setting, we could see the clouds below us in the valley.

And that night, Roberto the hostel owner threw his weekly “asado” barbeque and invited all his army friends. Though the steak was quite tasty, it was a typical Chilean experience: we return to the hostel tired and hungry around 8, he says food will be ready in an hour, people slowly file in, chat and drink, and we wait until about 10 to actually start eating. And then just when you think the evening is over, you find out everyone is going to a club afterwards! So I figured I had to go out as well, since we weren’t planning anything for the next day and, hey, when in Chile, do as the Chileans, right?

The club, SoHo, was located literally next door to Drake, the place we went to Thursday night, and as we found out at the coat check, it has exactly the same staff! So when a large man grabbed Tracy’s face again, at least this time we knew who it was.

Chilean men tend to be very affectionate, so it is not uncommon to just be sitting down in a club and have someone come right up next to you and start asking you questions and all that. It takes some getting used to, and I have to kind of change my mindset to interpret it as a kind gesture instead of an unnecessarily sketchy invasion of personal space. You know.

Sunday

We spent Sunday leisurely wandering around Arica, finding the beach, the casino (we decided the the $6 entry fee was too much), and ate at a restaurant on 21 de mayo. I noticed that nearly everything on the menu had either tomato, olive, or both (especially since you don't realy find olive on everything), and I realized that there, as opposed to the US, it probably is cheaper to use locally grown foods.

Monday

We had originally set aside the day to take a trip to Tacna, Peru, on the old train that runs between the cities for about $3 (see http://www.bradanovic.cl/trenatacna/trenatacna.htm for a *thorough* photo essay). However, it turns out the train runs everyday except Sunday and moreover was sold out that Saturday and Monday due to the Fiestas Patrias mad rush of holiday-ing Chileans.

Never ones to let sold out steam engines stand in our way, we discovered that you can easily get to Tacna by taxi (or bus, but those are very crowded and often delayed, apparently). We made out way to the bus station, found one of the few taxi drivers available, and filled out a few border crossing forms. Our driver, Omar, was a very excited kind of guy, and we piled in the 5 chicas into the taxi sedan and made our way off into the desert at around 11am. We hit the border very shortly after… or should I say, we hit the end of the massive line of cars waiting to cross the border. Omar stopped the car, got out, started chatting with other drivers, came back in every once in awhile to move it 10 feet forward, and thus we inched our way out of Chile. We spent more than 2 hours getting across the border, meaning both exiting Chile and entering Peru (separate lines of cars, separate border control buildings, separate paperwork… and separate stamps in my passport!). We also saw the barbed wire enclosing mined areas of the desert, remnants of the time when relations between Peru and Chile were really bad, that no one gotten rid of. The time inside the stations was minimal, and once we passed through, it was smooth sailing for another 30 minutes into Tacna.

We were hoping to find lots of cheap goods, especially llama goods, altiplano mementos, and generally any kind of handicraft we’d seen in Chile but for a fraction of the cost. Unfortunately, we found nothing of the sort. Chileans definitely do cross the border to get cheaper goods, but of a different ilk: jewelry, clothing, (pirated) DVDs, and the like. We weren’t really in the market for that, but we were definitely up for some food after such a long time in the car. We took Roberto’s suggestion to go to the restaurant Todo A Vapor (meaning Full Steam) and try Peruvian ceviche. Ceviche is a very interesting Latin American dish that uses citrus (usually lemon or lime) to cook raw seafood and is served cold. After about 30 minutes, the waiter finally showed up to ask what we wanted, and once all the food had been served (in three separate trips) more than another 40 minutes later, we all agreed that Peruvian food is definitely RICA!

We had to hightail it out of the restaurant to meet back up with Omar, who was waiting to bring us back into Chile in time to make our 10pm overnight bus to San Pedro. As we approached the Peruvian side of the border, Omar rolled down his window to chat with a security officer station outside the building. He asked if the line would be moving faster anytime soon, and the officer said, well, it will move a lot faster if you go to that lane over there and pay the officer 2,000 pesos. Omar chuckled and we stayed in the original lane. He then turned to us and asked if we noticed how blatant the Peruvian officer was with the bribery. He said you would never hear that kind of thing in Chile…

That about wraps up Arica, but I haven’t even finished writing about half the trip yet! Hopefully you’re not bored! San Pedro post goes up as soon as I finish it!