Due to some bizarre circumstances that colored and defined our time in Chile, we needed to rent a car in Valparaiso to drive to Santiago and retrieve our luggage before continuing on to Buenos Aires. We wandered into Viña del Mar, following maps that should…Read More

Due to some bizarre circumstances that colored and defined our time in Chile, we needed to rent a car in Valparaiso to drive to Santiago and retrieve our luggage before continuing on to Buenos Aires. We wandered into Viña del Mar, following maps that should have but didn’t lead us to any car rental places. We finally came across a Budget, but there were out of cars. We were about to start laying out Plan B when we came across William Gonzalez Rent-a-Car.

A sign on the door told us that William was in the restaurant next door when we arrived, so we wandered over and asked for him. He emerged after a few minutes and started getting us set up with a vehicle.

It seemed pricey, and when we held out a little bit he lowered the price. We still had to cover the cost of the many toll roads, both the roads leading to the city, which you pay at a booth with cash, and the ones within the city that are tracked on a device that the car has, and you pay the rental company after you return the car. And gas is expensive in Chile. All in all, our three-hour round trip ended up costing about $100, but it was much less hassle than any option we could have come up with using public transportation, given our luggage circumstances.

When we got back, there was no place to park, so Brent drove around the block while I went inside to ask where we should put the car. William (I admit, I’m totally just assuming this guy is William, I really have no idea) came outside with me and pushed a car forward so that ours could fit in.

In Valpo and Viña, there isn’t a lot of purpose in having a car, so you might want to stick to public transportation to save money and avoid the stress that comes when you drive in another country, but if you need a car, William Gonzalez Rent-a-Car is a good place to get one.
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If you catch a nice day, you need to swing by the Botanical Gardens on the university campus. There is a fantastic variety of trees and plants, and paths that wander through the wilderness. Pack a picnic and make a day of it.Packing a picnic…Read More

If you catch a nice day, you need to swing by the Botanical Gardens on the university campus. There is a fantastic variety of trees and plants, and paths that wander through the wilderness. Pack a picnic and make a day of it.

Packing a picnic means (almost unfortunately) going to the grocery store, which is an adventure of its own.

We frequented the UniMarc, since it was near where we were staying. I’m not sure I’ve ever been so bewildered.

The store is huge, calling to mind your homeland favorites. When we first walked in, I thought we’d be able to find any food in the world. I quickly realized how untrue this was when I turned down the mayonnaise aisle: shelf after shelf of the same mayonnaise, in the same sized container. Then, for variety, some smaller bottles. An entire row devoted to mayonnaise, followed by an entire row devoted to rice (but no brown rice to be found), followed by a row of flour, and so on.

The fruit and vegetable selection was good (no jalepeños, though), and you can find a variety of meats and cheeses at the deli. Remember to grab a number and wait until it is called. The bread was all about the same: white and bland.

The Bigger is another grocery option, and even though it was smaller we liked it a lot better. Without so many rows to fill, they had to make better use of the ones they had, and I swear we had better luck finding the things we wanted here.

You can also try the market near the river. You can buy fruit, vegetables, honey, and the occasional toy, but the main attraction here is the fresh fish and other sea creatures.   Close

There is no reason for traveling to the Atacama Desert, or to any other desert. The drier the arid region is, the less it has to offer to the traveler and Atacama is the driest desert on earth. This became evident in the first two…Read More

There is no reason for traveling to the Atacama Desert, or to any other desert. The drier the arid region is, the less it has to offer to the traveler and Atacama is the driest desert on earth. This became evident in the first two journals dedicated to this eternally empty glass of water. Even for isolating oneself this desert is no good, supplies must be brought from far away. After seeing ochre for mile after mile, why would the traveler delay the unavoidable departure? Green pastures are elsewhere.

NASA considers Atacama a Mars-analogue terrain. Reality is different. All its basic parameters – pressure, temperature, atmosphere, and many others – belong to Earth. More important, the desert has boundaries with friendlier areas. There, the ochre oxidizes into earthlier colors and the rocks rarify giving place to geysers, lakes and even manmade structures. The strangest boundary is between the desert and the Andean High Plateau, on the Bolivian department of Potosi. The last could rate by itself as one of the strangest spots on the planet. On the touch point between the two is San Pedro de Atacama, the only deep desert in this inaccurate version of Mars. For these tiny bits of color, it is worth staying a here bit more, breathing dust and longing for green.

Western travelers reaching South America - or Southeast Asia - for the first time, suffer from the infamous New York Syndrome. They tend to plan every minute of the trip in advance; they book hotels, meals and trips from half a world away and are not pleased until they know the exact second everything would occur. Yet, there is no Wall Street in San Pedro de Atacama. The whole settlement wouldn’t classify even as a town in most countries; not even South American ones. The best approach is planning nothing, drop by and see what is available. That ensures flexibility in the planning of the trip in the case of unexpected events. Make no mistake, in the Fourth World – and the whole of South America is in there – unexpected events are the only certainty. Here they still believe in right and left, communism and capitalism, European empires and history books written by political policemen. Laws seem to change faster than the weather and in a similarly arbitrary fashion. Ignore all these, don’t listen to local chit-chat, pack a small backpack and drop by the driest desert. There, enjoy some of the strangest sights on our rough planet.

San Pedro de Atacama lies slightly higher than Calama – the nearest town - yet, 80% of humans won’t need an altitude acclimatization period here. The situation changes once crossing over into Bolivia; roughly at four kilometers above the sea level, Potosi (the department and the city) would invariably demand an acclimatization period of all visitors. San Pedro de Atatcama is also a major crossing point from Chile to Salta in Argentina. On the edge of the fringe, San Pedro de Atacama is a transition point with a few pretty sights.

What to see? It depends on the time the traveler can stop here. The Licancabur, San Pedro and San Pablo volcanoes are major – in every sense of the word – attractions. The Salar de Atacama – a major salt flat – is just north of the city. If planning visiting the larger Salar de Uyuni in Bolivia, this one can be skipped. The Pukará de Quitor is a fortification built by the Atacameño people in the 12th century and of mild interest; if having seen Inca forts elsewhere, this one has nothing new to offer. The Laguna Miscanti is similar on many aspects to the Lagunas Verde y Colorada (red and green lagoons) just on the Bolivian side, though this one is filled up with just regular blue water. The most impressive site is the called El Tatio, where eighty geysers compete for the travelers’ attention. Finally, a Valle de la Luna (Moon’s Valley) not very different from those found elsewhere on earth is available for a visit. To these, the journal is dedicated.
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Easter Island is expensive to reach, expensive to stay on, and a bit of a hassle to get to. If you don't speak any Spanish, you'll probably have a hard time getting around, since almost nobody there speaks any English. All that said,…Read More

Easter Island is expensive to reach, expensive to stay on, and a bit of a hassle to get to. If you don't speak any Spanish, you'll probably have a hard time getting around, since almost nobody there speaks any English. All that said, all of the expense and trouble is absolutely worth it. This was a trip of a lifetime. Standing in the shadow of the moai is truly awe-inspiring.

For two cabins for four nights each, the total was 400,000 Chilean pesos, which is roughly $800 American, or $50/night for the four of us. A representative picked us up at the airport, gave us leis made of local flowers, and drove us to the cabins. The drive lasted a little bit less than two minutes. We got there and settled in a bit and then decided to take a walk in to Hanga Roa.

Hanga Roa is a tiny town, full of mostly restaurants and tourist shops. There is a church and a school and a couple of ATMs, and a couple of small grocery stores if you want to eat on the go. Food is very expensive, though! For the materials to make simple sandwiches with some soda and potato chips, we had to shell out something like $20!

That first night, my friend and I attended a native dance show in Hanga Roa. These happen almost nightly, at several different places, and we went to another one a couple of nights later. If you go to Easter Island, don't miss these shows. They feature native dress, native dancing, and a bit of abstract storytelling about the native tradition at large.

On the second day, we rented a truck from our cabins. They didn't require a driver's license or a down payment or anything. Everything on the island is so laid back, and there's nowhere that we could go, so there's no reason for them to be too concerned about anything. Driving around the island was quite fun, though nervewracking, because even where the roads are paved, they're paved quite badly.

We drove up through the center of the island to Anakena Beach, on the island's north shore. It sports an impressive set of moai. From there, we drove east toward the Poike peninsula, stopping here and there to look at fallen moai. Right around sunset, we reached Ahu Tongariki, a huge platform with15 upright moai. As the sun set behind the Rano Raraku volcano, we stood and marveled. Sunset was a wonderful time to see this site, as the deep pinks and oranges and reds illuminated the moai beautifully. We liked Tongariki so much, in fact, that my friend and I traveled back there late that night to take some long-exposure pictures as the moon rose over the site. After that, we returned the following morning to capture the site as the sun rose behind the moai. All in all, it's a wonderful site to visit at various times of day, to examine the different ways that the moai can look in different types of light.

The next day we traveled to what I consider to be the crown jewel of Easter Island: Rano Raraku. This is the "factory" where all of the moai were made. It's a volcano with a lake in the middle, and you can actually hike up inside of the volcano if you wish. The outside of the volcano is the real draw, though, as it is dotted with hundreds of moai in various stages of completion. It's a really fascinating place that really makes visitors wonder. What was the point of carving so many moai and not taking them out to ahu along the coast?

On the last day we were there, we visited Orongo, the stone village on the southwestern peninsula of the island. It's from this location, perched on the edge of the Rano Kau volcano, that the Birdman cult held its annual rites. The village consists of several low stone dwellings, mostly reconstructions of the originals, where priests of the Birdman cult would come and live for a time and crown a Birdman every year. Natives would compete to swim out to the two tiny islets off the shore of Orongo, grab a bird's egg, and then swim back to the village, and the winner would be declared the year's Birdman. I didn't find Orongo to be quite as interesting as the rest of the island, but it's still absolutely fascinating in its own right. It's just that it's overshadowed by the much-more-famous moai.   Close

By far, San Pedro de Atacama is the most identified settlement with the Atacama Desert. This is odd, since it actually occupies a small area which is not part of the desert. Most of the human settlements in the Atacama Desert are along the coast…Read More

By far, San Pedro de Atacama is the most identified settlement with the Atacama Desert. This is odd, since it actually occupies a small area which is not part of the desert. Most of the human settlements in the Atacama Desert are along the coast and were created only due to the exceptional natural resources of the area: saltpeter, guano and silver from nearby Potosi. An exception is San Pedro de Atacama, a village placed on an oasis next to the Chilean-Bolivian border; if traveling in the Potosi area, it is possible to cross the border there. This is the only area of the desert inhabited since before the Inca Empire; old forts called "pucaras" can still be seen.

The only desert settlement continuously inhabited since pre-Inca times is an odd reminder of how different is this desert from all others on earth. Even trade routes didn’t develop in the Atacama Desert. The reason was obvious: there wasn’t enough water along possible routes to ensure the caravans’ survival. The people living in San Pedro de Atacama developed self-sustaining settlements relying on minimal amounts of trade. Oops! The plural was wrong. Settlement. A single settlement - and a tiny one for that - in a desert larger than many countries.

Roughly a hundred kilometers from Calama, San Pedro de Atacama is next to the impressive Licancabur Volcano. More often than not, this area is linked to earthquakes in our memories and not to volcanoes; yet all along the Chilean-Bolivian border there are beautifully conic volcanoes, local replicas of Mount Fuji. Some of them occasionally smoke, especially the Nevados de Payachata next to the Tambo Quemado border cross, reminding the traveler of past – yet still hot - conflicts in the area. San Pedro de Atacama lies slightly higher than Calama, yet, 80% of humans won’t need an altitude acclimatization period here. The situation changes once crossing over into Bolivia; roughly at four kilometers above the sea level, Potosi (the department and the city) would invariably demand an acclimatization period of all visitors.

By far, this is the smallest settlement visited in this tour, with roughly just five thousand inhabitants. Yet, it is the major touristic attraction of the desert, offering unique sights of the altitude desert and several desert sports. Moreover, it is a major crossing point from Chile to Salta in Argentina. What to see? It depends on the time the traveler can stop here. The Licancabur, San Pedro and San Pablo volcanoes are major – in every sense of the word – attractions. The Salar de Atacama – a major salt flat – is just north of the city. If planning visiting the larger Salar de Uyuni in Bolivia, this one can be skipped. The Pukará de Quitor is a fortification built by the Atacameño people in the 12th century and of mild interest; if having seen Inca forts elsewhere, this one has nothing new to offer. The Laguna Miscanti is similar on many aspects to the Lagunas Verde y Colorada (red and green lagoons) just on the Bolivian side, though this one is filled up with just regular blue water. The most impressive site is the called El Tatio, where eighty geysers compete for the travelers’ attention. Finally, a Valle de la Luna (Moon’s Valley) not very different from those found elsewhere on earth is available for a visit. To them, a special journal would soon be dedicated.
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Mining towns seldom are touristic attractions. There are good reasons for that. Usually they are quite polluted; dust from the works can ruin even the bluest skies. Most of their populations work in mining or related positions and would probably avoid encounters with nosy travelers…Read More

Mining towns seldom are touristic attractions. There are good reasons for that. Usually they are quite polluted; dust from the works can ruin even the bluest skies. Most of their populations work in mining or related positions and would probably avoid encounters with nosy travelers asking silly questions. Finally, holes in the ground are of little interest to most people, regardless their size, shape and uses. However, these towns are sometimes along the travelers’ path; and this is the case with Calama. Located almost 2300m above the sea level, it is just above the halfway between the Pacific Ocean and the Altiplano – the Andean High Plateau; expectedly, it is one of the driest cities on earth. Yet, a small river – the River Loa – crosses the town. Unbelievably, this is the longest river in the very narrow Chile. Its meager waters bring enough humidity for trees to grow in the town. This is a major improvement over the other cities and towns visited in this trip, adding a surreal touch of almost being on a desert oasis.

Given the location, the definition of Calama as a city is surprising; yet it is almost as big as Iquique. The wonder is the result of the nearby Chuquicamata Mine, one of the largest open-pit copper mines in the world. By far, this is the main attraction in the way to San Pedro de Atacama. The deep hole in the ground resembles a man-made valley, displaying the odd colors of the once hidden minerals. At places it seems deep enough to match the level of the nearby ocean.

No place suffered such a dramatic change as the result of the War of the Pacific as Calama did. Before the war it was part of Bolivia and its role was mainly that of a stopover station between the pacific shore and Potosi, the continent’s largest silver mine and once the largest and richest city in the Americas. After the war, it became a major mining center, its former communications advantages having been obliterated. Calama was chosen for a railway station of the Antofagasta-Bolivia Railway, part of the peace agreement between the countries. As of 2011 that railway doesn’t exist.

Yet, slowly a different future is emerging for this sleepy town. It is becoming the Atacama Desert travel hub, offering easy access to other attractions on the higher parts of this desert, including the Chuquicamata Mine, San Pedro de Atacama, the Valley of the Moon, the Licancabur volcano, R. P. Gustavo Le Paige Archaeological Museum, Los Flamencos National Reserve, the village of Chiu-Chiu, the Aguas Calientes salt flat, the Tuyajto lagoon, the El Tatio Geysers, and probably a few others in the process of being developed. Friendly guesthouses – basic but reliable – and cozy travel agencies abound in the town’s center. Thus, planning here for a longer stay than in Antofagasta is essential in order to see all the attractions. Otherwise, the path ahead is clear: San Pedro de Atacama and then Bolivia.
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Near Antofagasta things get the wettest in Atacama, with an astounding 1mm (roughly 1/25 of an inch) of rain in many of the years recorded. A spitting llama (they spit whatever they are eating at the eyes of any supposed aggressor, more often than not…Read More

Near Antofagasta things get the wettest in Atacama, with an astounding 1mm (roughly 1/25 of an inch) of rain in many of the years recorded. A spitting llama (they spit whatever they are eating at the eyes of any supposed aggressor, more often than not a traveler unaware of this behavior and in need of a Best of IgoUgo picture) could change the region annual rain balance just by an annual single self defense act next to a meteorological station. However in seven occasions during the last century there were sudden mudslides and floods, as it happens in many deserts whenever an unexpected heavy rain occurs.

That means the traveler is unlikely to witness rain or floods; umbrellas are still to make their debut here. Even if being present during the year’s wettest event, the rain would probably end before the camera is ready for the perfect picture. Thus, other points of interest must be found. If arriving from the north – Iquique – then the traveler has already seen a city in the desert; the only novelty Antofagasta can contribute is its size: roughly twice as big as Iquique, it is the largest city in the Atacama Desert. Also, it is the fastest growing city in the country and one of the most expensive; an efficient and short stay is recommended for those of us on a budget. On the geographical side, the only other point of interest is the Tropic of Capricorn which passes on the northern outskirts and is commemorated by a notably uninspiring, rectangular monument.

I was hoping to see something of the dramatic past of the area. Arica and Iquique have clearly lost all Peruvian touch; nothing seems to belong to the old country. Antofagasta proved the same connection to the past with respect to Bolivia. That is, unless you know what to search for.

On March 1868, the "Melbourne Clark Company" was established, after the integration of Chilean and British capital in order to mine saltpeter in the area; the settlement was called then La Chimba. On May 1871, Antofagasta was appointed by the Bolivian Government as an open trade port; shortly after, on January 1872, the Municipality of Antofagasta was founded. Then, on November 1873 the "Compañía de Salitres y Ferrocarril de Antofagasta" signed a contract with the government of Bolivia, in which taxes were removed from mineral exploitation for 15 years. This contract was not ratified by the Congress of Bolivia, as demanded by the constitution and eventually led to the War of the Pacific. Basically, the war can be seen as a taxes conflict between the Chilean and British operators of the mines and railway, and the Bolivian government. A secret defense pact between Bolivia and Peru complicated the subsequent events, which even nowadays are not completely settled. Visitors in Bolivia would see frequent public references to this war, including the "Day of the Sea," on the anniversary of the war. Nowadays, there are very little signs of the war except for de "Torre del Reloj" at Plaza Colon, the central plaza of the town. The clock was donated by the abovementioned "English Colony" – as it is known here – and is a partial replica of London’s Big Ben.

However, Antofagasta is more than saltpeter. "Ruinas de Huanchaca" is the name of the ruins of an abandoned silver melting plant from the late 19th century. This is the reminder Antofagasta is very close to Potosi; silver from Cerro Rico often made its way to this port. The plant is next to the Campus Antofagasta of the Universidad Católica del Norte, at the junction of Antofagasta and Argentina avenues. If under time pressure, a visit to this building can be skipped altogether.

Pretty soon I was in troubles. The town is very low, without any structures of interest – unless you like ports - and surrounded by the same desert I’ve seen all along the trip. Its main natural attraction is the Monumento Nacional de la Portada (the Archway National Monument), a natural arch formation next to the shore; yet, in the last years it can be seen only from faraway due to geological instability. Instead of dedicating a journal to the city – my original plan – it obviously became a topic for a short and not very interesting entry. Even the name was problematic to comment on; nobody knows its origin, similar words can be found in all of the native languages of the area. Such a lack of consideration for my writing!

Eventually, I stayed for as short as possible, dedicating most of the time to arranging the details for my visit to the upper parts of the Atacama Desert.
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Making forth and back trips to special destinations is by and large a bad idea. The repetition of sights during the trip back would give the feeling of wasted time. Sometimes this can be justified by taking alternate routes round a major landmark. By doing…Read More

Making forth and back trips to special destinations is by and large a bad idea. The repetition of sights during the trip back would give the feeling of wasted time. Sometimes this can be justified by taking alternate routes round a major landmark. By doing so while exploring Machu Picchu from La Paz, one can get to know better the Titicaca Lake and other centers related to the origins of the Inca Empire. Alas, not always that’s possible. In my Driest Desert journal, I described a trip from La Paz, Bolivia, to Arica and Iquique in Chile. Returning along the same path would not only take away the fun of the experience, it will also look foolish. While climbing up back to the plateau all the awesome landscape of the area would be on the backside. After seeing the hundredth spitting llama boringly watching back at him, the traveler would begin reading a bulky copy of Ana Karenina with deep interest. For years this book was in his backpack for no other reason that it was suitably heavy for holding tightly closed the room doors at dingy guesthouse rooms. Afterwards, he’ll find he doesn’t have enough material for the planned IgoUgo journal. Unthinkable sin.

Luckily, the complex recent history of the area created interesting opportunities for the traveler. The War of the Pacific – not to be confounded with the oxymoronic Pacific War – changed the area’ countries geometry in the late 19th century. Chile conquered territory along the Bolivian and Peruvian coasts; Bolivia became landlocked. Regardless the actual political borders, the traveler can use the roads that existed before the war. This is important. Peru had roads between Putre and Arica. This is the road described in the first Driest Desert journal as descending from the Andean High Plateau to the Pacific Ocean coast. Then, Bolivia had roads from Potosi to San Pedro de Atacama and Antofagasta, its port on the Pacific coast. Maybe it is not the easiest path, but it offers the perfect opportunity for creating an interesting loop around the Atacama Desert and finishing the trip with a visit to Potosi, once the biggest and largest city in the Americas.

Thus, this journal begins were the first Driest Desert ended – Iquique – and advances southwards along Road #1 to Antofagasta. This is straightforward and simple. The best is taking a bus from Iquique’s terminal. This coastal trip is still along the Atacama Desert and enriches the experience; it is along this part of the trip when the traveler would comprehend the vastness and absoluteness of this desert. In essence, Antofagasta is not very different from Iquique and Arica. A port city with good beaches and surrounded by a profound desert.

It is from Antofagasta that the most interesting part of the trip – eastwards – begins. Making it with local transport – including buses to the Bolivian border – is possible and recommended. In this way the traveler can change plans easily and without unnecessary expenses. Other options include travel agencies tour, which exist in all the main towns of the area, or renting a car. The last would complicate things is wishing to exit through Bolivia. The main stops along the way would be Calama, a mining town, and San Pedro de Atacama, an awesome oasis amidst impressive volcanoes and the only pre-Inca populated area of the desert.

Due to the national orientation of IgoUgo journals, I do not expand here on the Bolivian side sights. However, it is recommended to plan that part of the trip so that the Lagunas Verde y Colorada (the Green and red Lagoons) are visited before reaching Potosi. This can be easily be arranged by any travel agency in the area. The lagoons have their unique colors due to the presence of minerals. Surrounding volcanoes – like the Uturunco – and flamingo birds trapped away from the ocean add to the strange beauty of this area. Enough words! Now, to Antofagasta…
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There is something unsettling in deserts. We can see colors and enjoy watching them in their full glory. Yet, the first sight of a desert is shocking, at least to lovers of greenery: emptiness and desolation; faded earthly colors and a worryingly void of greens…Read More

There is something unsettling in deserts. We can see colors and enjoy watching them in their full glory. Yet, the first sight of a desert is shocking, at least to lovers of greenery: emptiness and desolation; faded earthly colors and a worryingly void of greens and vivacious flowers. Our capability to see colors becomes almost wasted in the desert. There, earth is downscaled to ocher hues; shapes become more important than colors. But even these shapes are often of very limited variety. Cloudless skies transmit such a strong light that at noon even the small difference between the ochre fade away; a scorching yellow dominates all.

Whole civilizations flourished in deserts – especially caravan traders, yet, it is obviously not a natural environment for humans. You can trek in the Himalayas while carrying very little equipment. A friendly village, or a cozy teashop, is always at walking distance. In the worst case, purifying water is easy. The desert is different. You must carry around all you need until you reach the often distant next town.

Then, why? Why go and visit such a place? The answer is complex. I probably would never make a dedicated trip to the Sahara Desert; it’s too yellow for me. Yet, sometimes avoiding the desert is difficult.

Sometimes, you just fly over them. A few years ago I traveled from Hong Kong to Sao Paulo via Johannesburg. During the last flight I got spectacular views of the South African and Namibian deserts. Sometimes, you are forced to travel through them. Recently, I wrote Planning Spanish Speaking Southern South America after touring that continent from east to west on its central part. It was difficult not to reach the conclusion that South America is a weird part of the world. That’s maybe why NASA treats some of it as a Mars-analogue terrain. Climatic areas in it seem to be arranged randomly. Oruro - not so far from the Equator Line – features temperatures of minus twenty Celsius during its winter nights. Chaco is an almost desert trapped among the two main river systems – both colossal in size - of the continent. And then, the desert Pacific coast – featuring the driest desert on Earth - is just across a mountain range – the Andes – from the Amazonian Basin, one of the wettest spots on the planet.

If touring such a crazed mosaic, avoiding deserts is almost impossible. The best is seeing them as a "yapa" (Aymara "to add," a gratuity added to purchases in Bolivian markets). Seeing their arid, infertile, often sterile, vastness teaches the traveler to appreciate better the greens.

Other times, special justifications exist. At the time of my visit to Kashgar, its center resembled very much the town visited by Marco Polo; apparently the Italian ravioli originated at that very spot. Sadly, it has been recently demolished. Turpan – near Urumqi - features an unusual oasis; nearby, snowed dunes can be enjoyed during the winter. Atacama is within this category. The driest desert on Earth provides a once in a lifetime opportunity to look into an absolute desert. No matter how much do you search for life, it isn’t there. Tests similar to those performed in Mars, failed to detect any signs of life; the place is sterile. Even Antarctica and the Everest show life. What has created this truly unearthly landscape? At the desert’s eastern side, the Andes Mountains block moisture of arriving; several parallel layers of high mountains make it impenetrable no matter how much moisture the air from the South American tropics brought. Moreover, it specific location next to the cold Humboldt Current and the Pacific’s Anticyclone keeps the adjacent ocean’s water colder than it should be at this latitude. The combination creates an almost waterless enclosure of land. Yet, this desert is so large (over 100 thousand square kilometers) that exceptions are to be expected. "Camanchaca" is the local name of a marine fog that reaches some of the desert coastal zones; it provides enough humidity to sustain lichens, some algae, and small succulents. However, above the level reached by this fog, the dryness is absolute. The yearly rain average in some parts of the desert is 0; near Antofagasta things get wet with an astounding 1 mm (roughly 1/25 of an inch) of rain per year. Studies show that vast areas of this desert have not seen rain for longer time than the entire registered human history. Ochre, ochre, ochre. An absolute ochre emptiness that helps reevaluating the joy of our daily green salad.
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I have reviewed several South American countries until now. Invariably, on the paper they all seem similar. They use Spanish or Portuguese as main languages, where ruthlessly colonized by Spain or Portugal, eradicated native cultures, gained independence early in the 19th century and since then…Read More

I have reviewed several South American countries until now. Invariably, on the paper they all seem similar. They use Spanish or Portuguese as main languages, where ruthlessly colonized by Spain or Portugal, eradicated native cultures, gained independence early in the 19th century and since then experienced incredible amounts and types of inner violence. All these are true, but once on the ground things look different.

Food is heavily influenced by location. Altitude, adjacent water sources, ground fertility and weather patterns dictate the available ingredients in a given area. Traditional native dishes can be found even today in Bolivia, Paraguay and other cultural pockets. However, nowhere the differences are as obvious as with the language used. I wrote extensively on Bolivian Spanish, due to its Aymara and Quechua influences (especially on the Andean High Plateau area). Unlike Bolivia, Chile is completely dominated by Spanish. I saw an Aymara school in Arica, but all denizens spoke exclusively Spanish among themselves. All signs were in Spanish, including the one at the Aymara school. This area of modern Chile was never part of the Inca Empire; Aymara and Quechua speakers arrived here during colonial times. That means Chilean Spanish is something else; but what is it?

A characteristic of Spanish is its theoretical flatness: no tones, no most emphasized word, and equal length vowels. Reality is different. In every zone an underlying sing-song is applied to the spoken language. Vowels are then elongated or shortened, modulating the sound of the local dialect. In certain areas, some consonants are skipped. Moreover, several Spanish consonants are ill defined and changed wildly. The "ll" and the "y" feature at least three different sounds each, while the pronunciation chosen depends exclusively on cultural parameters. Pronounce "yo" (I) and your Spanish background would be pretty much defined.

The first time I visited Chile, I could barely speak Spanish, though I understood the Bolivian and Argentinean dialects. Bolivian Spanish is slow due to its use of Aymara and Quechua long vowels, making it easier to understand. The first Chilean I met was in the Bolivian bus leading me downwards to Arica. He was the conductor and was asking me for my ticket; the request was simple, yet I was lost and we moved to English. While at the Chilean immigrations booth I just guessed out what I was being told; the sounds uttered by the guards were meaningless. Luckily, there were no surprises there. Once in Arica it took me a while to begin recognizing a language I thought to know properly.

The problems were various. First, a final "s" was invariably skipped; unluckily that’s the Spanish plural. Everything became singular. Then, when two consonants appeared together (not a very common occurrence in this vowels-oriented language), one of them was shortened or obliterated. Syllables were not separated; the pause between words was in the range of milliseconds (or was it microseconds?). The underlying sing-song was very different than in other places. Foreign words beginning with an "s" and another consonant following it received extra vowels; "stadium" became … "estadiun," because no Spanish word ends with an "m" the letter is automatically transformed into an "n." Non-existing consonants in Spanish were accommodated: "busch" would be pronounced "boos-ch." The result was almost unintelligible.

For those of us speaking languages with semi-vowels, another difficulty exists; a semivowel would almost invariably be added to words ending with an "s." I always need to verify if the speaker said "dos" (2) or "doce" (12), "tres" (3) or "trece" (13). The semivowel is seen by locals as an insignificant puff of air.

More often than not, Spanish is uttered very quickly, and this is a very surprising characteristic. Usually there is a correlation between the way a language is used and the surrounding culture. Compare the rapid English of New York with the languid one in New Mexico. Spanish doesn’t behave like that. You can see the most lethargic people almost falling asleep while standing next to their equally stagnant llama. Did they grow up there? It is difficult to imagine them moving at all. You approach them and ask for directions. Incredibly, the mouth of the answerer becomes then independent from that immobile body. The unstoppable – and apparent random – shower of long vowels that follows must make some sense to the speaker, but even the llama looks with proud wonder at that prodigious orchestra of sounds. E-spanish.
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