Santiago de Chile

above- Santiago
below- Plaza de Armas


I´ve been back in Santiago for just over a week now, with 10 days to relax and see friends until going to the states, and think exerpts from my journal express it best:

August 13th, 2007
I never want to forget my first 2 hrs back in Santiago and how wonderful I felt. Basically, in my head I was jumping up and down with so much excitment... but really I guess it was just expressed in my huge, huge smile that permanentely rested on my face as I quietly stared out the window of the bus from the airport. I was ecstatic. Seriously, I was coming home. And, it made me realize how much I experienced over the last month. I was coming back feeling like, ¨wow, its been a while, I feel different.¨ And then I remembered a conversation I had with Breanne when we first got to Peru from Santiago about how we have gained weight in Santiago and she said something like, ¨you don´t want to go home feeling bad. You want to go home from South America glowwing.¨ And coming into Santiago on that metro\bus from the airport, I thought to myself, ¨I feel glowwing.¨

August 14, 2007
Walking down O´Higgins today I had a thought: this has been an important, life-changing 6 months. And my month traveling was a big part of that. It gave me closure and coming back to Santiago after is what I needed.

August 17th, 2007
I have a newfounded love for Santiago! It just suddenly clicked yesterday and has stayed with me since, but I love Santiago! Its just like I now GET IT, I get the city that I struggled for so long to understand. And its not because I am leaving. Left the area near Baquendano yesterday- this little market and gi-normous fountain and walked in the hidden plaza and just felt ´ok wow so loving this´ and then walked from Tobalaba to Escuela Militar, an area I know too well, and a big change happened. It went from ´I like this city because I know it and feel comfortable and have a life here´ to ´I like this city for all the above AND because I really like the actualy CITY.´ After really seeing other parts of South America, and reading Isabelle Allende´s memoirs about going from Chile to the US to live and cultural differences she experienced, have helped me to understand Santiago, and live in the moment here. And the best part is that right after this all hit me a Chilean asked me where the closest metro was and without even processing in English what he wanted I just answered- I didn´t even know the words he used to ask, my thought process was too quick answering him.


pic from our 80´s party our last night before roomates started to move out
bought that dress at a used clothing store... the Chileans know the 80s oh too well!

Huacachina Desierto

While on the street in La Paz our first day there, three Canadian girls approached Susannah and I, asking about the exchange rate. We told them what we knew, and moved on. About a week later we happened to be sitting next to them on a bus and chit-chatted about travels. One girl said to us, ¨Have you ever been to a desert?¨ Sure, probablly, I mean, lots of things are called deserts, right. ¨No, no,¨ she said, ¨Like, a REAL desert. Look.¨ She showed us a picture on her camera, and then I understood what she meant---- full on sahara style desert with curvy sand in every direction for miles on end.

My last stop before parting ways with Susannah to make my way back to Chile was Huacachina, a small town in the middle of a sand desert (cause, well, deserts usually are sand and all...) 10 minutes outside of the city of Ica, Peru. It was amazing, to say the least. We went in a ¨car¨ (like the one below) to head out for our hr. of sandboarding... which entailed a lot more than just sandboarding.



First, we stoped at a police check point and our driver (one of the sons of the the family who ran our hotel) argues with the police for a good 20 minutes. As Susannah, the 3 English boys in the back and I try to figure out what is going on we realize (mostly from hand gestures and the tone of the yelling) that he doesn´t have a proper license. Suddenly, peace is made... oh, whats this, the police man and his friend are getting in the car with us---- should I feel releaved that I get to go or unsure of the fact that I´m in a car with an un-licensed driver that just bribbed the police with a ride? Thats Peru for ya! We then head at a REALLY fast rate straight up these gi-normous hills of sand, and quickly figured out that sandboarding also included a Disney Amusement Park-esque ride up and down and in circles on the sand. At one point we went straight up, and then straight down, and when I say straight I mean a good 90 degrees down, in this car. Susannah was freaking just a little (rightly so!) but I (surprisingly) loved it. We stopped a few times at the top of big hills to go sandboarding... basically snowboarding but on sand. Since I´ve never snowboarded before, I instead did more of a sledding on the sand, but on my stomach. I went soooo fast I can´t even tell you. It was scary, but so fun. And then of corse we made our stop for the police guys to create their own shooting range in the desert sand.... shady say what?????

We went for another ride that night where we saw the sun setting over the desert, and this time I mean it for real when I say this was the most beautiful thing I have ever experienced in my entire life. My favortite place in South America no doubt. It must be like seeing the ocean for the first time as an adult---- just being blown away by the beauty of something natural, so much bigger than anything you can ever imagine. And the solitude of it was part of the experience, feeling like you are the only person in the world. It was great. Dangerous, but great.

PICTURES!

(right) Cactus at the ¨island¨ in the middle of the salt flats... no this is not a fake backdrop.....





(above and below) Funny pictures from the salt flats in Uyuni, Bolivia, almost at border with Northern Chile. Desert of salt... Susannah standing far back... one of a good hundred of these kinda pictures... and above that is a sun burst not Susannah´s pants falling down...




(below) The main cathedral in Copacabana, the Bolivian port town for Lake Titicaca. Yes, Copacabana is a real place, and yes my name was temporarily Lola. And yes, I am wearing the same thing because I only had one outfit for the cold and therefore have been wearing that every day.

Potosi and Uyuni, Bolivia

After Lake Titicaca I headed to the bustling city of La Paz, Bolivia. For the first time in South America, I really felt like I stood out and wasn't sure how comfortable I felt in this... seeing this kind of poverty was a first for me, and at times really disturbing. By chance, we happened to arrive on the day of their 198 anniversay of freedom from the Spaniards. I've never imagined a parade quite like this- from 8 in the morning to 2am the next morning, people dancing in fancy flashy costumes, musicians to follow all around the city. It was quite entertaining. And, to make up for feeling sligtly out of place, markets of $3 scarfs make me a very happy lady, an d that entertained me for quite a long time.

After 3 days here we headed for Potosi, about 10 hours south of Laz Paz, known for its mines, which is where a lot of the worlds silver came from until the silver economy crashed, along with the once very prosperous city of Potosi. Some English travels we met back in Cusco told us how cool going into the mines of Bolivia were and how we had to do it. To say the least, I now have a demise for these boys for even recommending it, but also know this was a very important, and humbling, and terrifying-all-at-once-experience. We started the tour in a group of 5 gringos and a guide who had previously worked for 3 years in the mine. We went to the miners market, where we bought dynamite and coco leaves as gifts, got dressed in the appropriate gear and went into the mines. Basically, for the lack of a better word, it was horrifying. Being in the complete dark other than the head lamp, we were
crawling through rabbit holes within the mountain, laying on our stomachs crawling through as the dirt and rocks scaped our backs, with noxious fumes surrounding us making it impossible to breath. As we went down to the third layer of the mine, it became even harder and harder to breath. Over a thousand minors work down in those mines for 12 hrs a day, 7 days a week. And I could barelly handle the 2 hours. At one point we heard a little explosion go off, and my heard skipped a good 5 beats as I realized the slight possibility of the mountain crashing in on us. These minors work there for lack of a better job, and the average life span for a minor is 40 years. Experiencing that for a mere almost 2 hours, I can't even tell you how much compassion I have for those minors, and I am left sadened by the injustice of the whole system.



From there we went another 6 hours south to the town of Uyuni, close to the border of Chile. Here, there are salt flats... basically miles and miles and miles of salt. It looks like a desert of snow, but its all salt. With a German tourist we met, we took some funny pictures on the flats, and went in a restuarant and hotel made of salt. In the middle of the flats was the "Island of Fish," which is basically this random island-shaped land area covered in cactus. Very random, very cool.