Coastal Drive - along Chile´s Hwy 1

San Pedro de Atacama is sort of out in the middle of nowhere in Chile´s Atacama desert.  We were trying to get there from Iquique and let me tell you it´s a process.  We woke up in the morning and caught a cab to the market where we had bought bus tickets the prior day and been told that that was where the bus would be leaving from.  As we climb out of the cab, I pull out the tickets, date - check, departure time - with half an hour to spare, bus terminal - Terminal de Autobuses, Esmerelda.  Um, we´re at the Mercado Central. We asked a girl at a different bus company´s ticket counter and were told that indeed, we were at the wrong place to catch our bus and needed to take a cab to get there.  So we go to find a taxi.  There are two men leaning against the first of 3 yellow sedans.  A third man stood facing them.  I asked about a ride to Esmerelda.  One told me 30 Lucas (sort of like saying "bucks" but here it's 30 THOUSAND pesos (which would be 60 dollars).  I stared blankly back and he winked and erupted in laughter.  We start to walk away, he calls after us, "no, no 2 lucas," but I've already shut down.  We hailed a cab that had a woman sitting in the passenger's seat.  I asked the driver if he would take us to Esmerelda but he said he wasn't going that direction. As we shut the door he says "oye" (listen), we open the door again and he gave us directions to the street where we could catch a cab going in the right direction to take us to Esmerelda.  We hail another cab a block up, as directed.  "Buenos dias" we say as we climb in.  The cab driver didn't recognize the name but the passenger (who must have bathed in cologne and not rinsed) in the front seat did.  We drove along, the cab driver not slowing down for barking dogs, or anything, for that matter.  The car pulled over to let our Mr. Cologne - I called ciao after him and he said hasta luego (see you later) as he slammed the door.  We pulled up to the bus station and a proper bus station it was - high ceilings, long parking spaces for buses, a cafe, ticket counter, etc. 

We buy breakfast, warm chaparritas, similar to empanada but with a flaky dough and filled with cheese, ham and tomato - the tomato has that soft acidic taste it gets from being cooked.  I ordered a coffee, too.  We sat at the bus station and had our breakfast.  Before boarding the bus we paid 300 Chilean pesos (60 US cents) to get a token to use the bathroom. 

Chaparrita

Ham, cheese and tomato chaparrita

 

As the bus backs out of the station, the second driver stood in the aisle, collecting tickets, noting phone numbers (emergency), ID #s (passports, in our case), and names.  I looked out the window at the Pacific Ocean methodically crashing its blue-grey waves on the shore.  This scene isn´t unfamiliar to me - driving south along a Pacific West Coast.  The sky is grey, fog still thick in the air.  It´s only 8:30 am.  There are tents set up on the beach, fishermen layng out the morning´s catch; the birds, gote, cormorrants, seagulls - the fishermen´s shadow, wait for a chance to steal a snack.  We drive along, the cormorants are perched on the tall white street lamps that line the boardwalk.  Every now and again the red head of a vulture appears, lifting itself from under his/her black wing.  There are more clam and mussel shells than there is sand on the beach.   It´s incredible, absolutely beautiful!  We pass the camelid pen: guanaco, and llamas hudled together, munching on hay.  They are perfectly groomed, unlike the ones you see out in the wild.  Their colors are magnificent, a soft cream color and another is deep chocolate brown.  On my right is the ocean and to my left the mountaneous desert. 

fishing boats, right outside of Iquique, heading south along the Pacific Coast

Pacific Ocean, view from bus, south of Iquique, Chile

more pretty ocean

A couple hours into the drive we stop at customs, we are heading south, deeper into Chile and I guess this is standard procedure.  We lined up with our luggage on a table and a custom´s officer, when she gets to me asks that I open my pack.  I unzip my beat up backpack and she lifts the top flap to reveal a plastic ziploc bag of electronics over my clothes.  "Gracias, mi amor," as she squeezes my arm.  That was quick, I think to myself.  We are instructed to wait until the bus moves forward - the bus pulls up 10 meters, we board and are on our way.  Seemingly useless but whatever. 

We drop people off at Tocapilla, a coastal town in northern Chile and a woman climbs on the bus selling sandwiches.  "Palta, pollo, mayonesa" (avocado, chicken, mayonaise) she calls, "bebidas" (drinks).  The sandwiches are individually wrapped in celofan wrap and stacked neatly in a tupperware.  She sells them for 1000 Chilean pesos (2 US dollars).  A man in a butcher's coat gets on the bus.  He had wavy salt and pepper hair that was combed back nicely, like Elvis' but without the hair grease.  He had a huge underbite and his tongue peeked through a gap in his two front teeth.  He was carrying a weathered styrofoam box and was calling "empanadas al horno. pollo, carne, queso, pollo y queso" (oven fired empanadas. chicken, meat, cheese, chicken and cheese).  Also going for 1000 Chilean pesos.  He stayed on the bus when the bus finally took off and got off several blocks later at his bakery, this must be a routine.  

 

Los Andes

Eventually we make it to San Pedro de Atacama, a small town of about 5000 people.  It's red adobe and just gorgeous.  It's located in the Antafogasta region of Chile and is part of the Atacama desert.  San Pedro is known for desert sports like sand boarding and is a common jumping off point to other places around the desert like the Geysers de Tatio, Valle de la Luna, and Lagunas Altiplanicas.  More to come about San Pedro...

cute town of San Pedro de Atacama

adobe wall, with dried sticks and twigs built into the wall to keep people out of one's yard

coppersmith's shop, built around a tree :)

hello mountain, San Pedro de Atacama, Chile

sunset in San Pedro de Atacama, Chile

men having a beer at a restaurant in San Pedro de Atacama, Chile

Running Errands in Amman

I got dressed, very conservatively in light brown slacks, a purple 3/4 sleeve blouse and grabbed a cab to run errands.  The cab driver was pleasantly plump with salt and pepper hair.  His hands had car grease on them which made him seem very masculine to me.  You don't really communicate with taxi drivers as a woman in this country.  I am a totally different person than the person I am in California.  I don't smile very much and have a very somber look on my face, because otherwise it's seen as an invitation to men.  I sat quietly in the backseat, diagonal to the driver, and felt the hot wind blow through my hair.  I love the desert.  It was only 30˚ C (86˚ F). I felt like I was going to sneeze and I said to the driver "If you would, a kleenex." and I pointed to the bag of kleenex on the dash.  He clumsily grabbed it, thrust it towards me and roared "of course, of course."  I took one and said thank you.  He pushed the bag towards me again and said "take more! it's free," and laughter erupted from deep in his fat belly. I laughed out loud and took 3 more kleenex.  I folded them in 1/8s and tucked them into my purse.  We got to a stop light and he turned the car off and jerked the emergency brake up.  We sat in traffic for some time until the light turned green, he turned the car on and revved the engine, excessively, in my opinion.  We arrived to our destination, I paid him, 1.35 dinars (less than 2 dollars), thanked him and got out.  I asked the guard for directions and he pointed me to building 2.  I entered building 2 and everybody was looking at me.  I was the only woman within 100 mile radius not covering her hair/head.  The men I asked for directions were visibly frustrated with me because they didn't know who I was looking for, Middle Eastern men don't have much patience, especially not for women.   

Finally a man gave me correct directions, to building 1, and I found my way to the woman I was meeting.  She was dressed in a blue trenchcoat that reached the floor and a blue hijab covered her head, the only parts of her bare body that were exposed were her face and hands.  She asked me if I was Lebanese.  I told her I was Syrian and she said welcome, welcome!  She said you're exactly like they described you, cute, small and young! I blushed and thanked her.  We entertained small talk for a few minutes and got to our meeting.  A young man kept coming in, he works at the front door and his job is to simply run errands for people.  This is very common in the Middle East.  These people are typically minimally educated and oftentimes dim.  I think it's wonderful that these people are given jobs so they feel that they are contributing to society, it gives them a sense of self worth and I think that is vital for the well-being of any human.  He made a photocopy of a document for me and brought me Arabic coffee.  It was poorly made, very weak, but I gratefully thanked him and drank it politely.  More questions were asked and more people were fetched to run us errands.  Towards the end of our meeting, the same young man was directed to bring me a cold glass of water.  I thanked him and drank it.  I thanked the woman who met with me, time and time and time again.  Thanking her for her time with me and all her help.  She told me to send my regards to my family and told me if I needed anything, to call her.  She congratulated me on my cousin's wedding and wished me the best of luck with all my endeavors. 

I left the building in search of a cab.  Again, lots of head turns from people because my hair was showing, I presume.  I stood on the side of the road for some time waiting for a taxi.  The yellow taxis are private and the white taxis are group.  I presume the white taxis are cheaper but I had no interest in being in a taxi full of strangers.  Finally I found an empty cab that picked me up.  I told him where I was going and we went on our way.  This man was younger than the previous bear of a driver, I had liked him, he was sweet.  This guy was fine, again, no eye contact, no small talk, no smiles.  Half way through the ride, the driver sneezed and I slowly began to say Bless You.  When I heard the first syllable come out of my mouth I kicked myself, I  can't say that to a strange man, I know better than that!  My voice grew quieter but he still heard me, he tried to look me in the eyes but my head was turned to look out the window, wearing big sunglasses and watching him in the rear view mirror, he said thank you.  He took a back road to approach the house and so I had initially told him to turn left, when I saw what direction we were coming from, I said pardon me but it's actually right.  He laughed out loud and gave me a lesson on the difference between right and left.  I said, "yes I know but I thought you were coming from a different direction. Please pull up behind the black van."  He did as instructed and asked "is this ok?" I paid him 1.5 dinars and got out of the car, thanking him on my way out. 

I tried to open the door to my aunt's house but it was locked.  Crap.  I rang the doorbell and stood back.  The door opened a crack, the maid had opened it and a huge smile came across her face.  "Zally!" she lazily squealed.  "Hi Lita" I said and she let me in.  "Mama here, madame here." She said.  I think she was trying to tell me that my aunt (other aunt, Mary) from Syria had arrived.  I ran into the living room and found my aunt, my father's eldest sister reading the newspaper.  Her hair is always died jet black and I've never seen her without bright red lipstick.  You can see that life has worn her out but she remains elegant and composed.  She asked about my work and my life, my family and my studies.  We got into a heated discussion about human rights and human trafficking.  I excused myself finally, I had to get some things done and she went in one of the bedrooms to lay down.