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Published: October 29th 2010
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(N) Aaahhh, we’re in one of those places again. Matt is marinading an expensive piece of beef to go with our inexpensive but very decent Chilean vino tinto, and after a choice between a dip in the river and in the pool (pool won - river brrr), I am lying in bed listening to the Dire Straits and feeling great. For our 1 1/2 year anniversary (for those of you that know us well know that this is an achievement for both of us) we have decided to treat ourself and hire a cabana - or cabin - in the lovely Elqui Valley. It’s total hippie land here - UFO sightings included -and home to a sizeable number of city folk who, fed up with Santiago, moved out here to grow potatoes or cultivate pisco, a grape-based spirit which is the main ingredient in our newly favourite cocktail Pisco Sour. One of these ex-urbanites, of the female, tattoo-covered variety, gave us a lift further into the valley and after 2 minutes apologised that she couldn’t let us stay in her house as there was no room - unless we had a tent?? Damnedly, we didn’t, and I immediately cursed at having
missed the chance to live with a bunch of Chilean hippies. However, she did invite us to spend the day with her, her husband, and their three ninos, swimming and frolicking in the river with them - naked I presume. Naturally, we are intending to follow up the invitation, and are secretly hoping one of their friends will put us up for a couple of nights...
We love it here, and have decided not to go to the Lake District (we spent a lot of time agonising over that decision - it’s meant to be stunning but means a lot more time travelling that we don’t have, and it’s quite cold and rainy down there at the moment) but spend a bit more time in the valley. It’s beautiful here, super chilled out and we haven’t spotted a single foreign tourist for three days (a novelty; perhaps because hitchhiking is the only way to get around in some parts) - why move??
We came from Vicuna, a sleepy little town famed for its astronomical observatories, where we spent one evening stargazing through a professional telescope. It was A-M-A-Z-I-N-G. We saw Jupiter and four of its moons, nebulas, galaxies
and star clusters, which blow your mind! Our astronomer was very funny, extremely knowledgeable, and did not raise his eyebrow once when I turned into a geek and bombarded him with questions -some more, some less intelligent. We learned so much interesting stuff that I am now considering taking up a combined degree in astronomy and astrophysics. Performing Arts, journalism - what’s one more breadless degree??
We already had the chance to do stargazing in San Pedro, where most people do it - but tip to all backpackers: it’s three times cheaper in Mamalluca Observatory in Vicuna! You will find that with most things..... Chile is very expensive, especially after arriving from Bolivia, and San Pedro is the worst for it. Set in the Atacama Desert, the “most arid desert in the world”, there are an incredible number of natural attractions to see, from geysers, lagunas and volcanoes to moon-like landscapes and warm rivers flowing through deep canyons. Each of these attractions will set you back between 8000 and 24000 Chilean pesos - I still have problems converting the currency (perhaps it’s for the best), but believe me - it’s a lot. There are tour agencies everywhere, and probably
Si, Si, claro!
Nina's second new hobby - faking understanding superfast Spanish every traveller in Chile passes through San Pedro - sounds like a rip-off tourist trap, but.... it’s AWESOME. In fact, it’s my favourite town in Latam so far. Perhaps it was the omnipresent Chilean flags flying over white-washed one-storey buildings, perhaps it was the random gust of wind causing a mini sandstorm in the street as we arrived, perhaps it was the three cowboys we saw walking by just at that moment. Or maybe it was the friendliest and best-looking people/street dogs in the continent so far (coming from Bolivia, the latter will make sense).
I love Chile. I cannot possibly describe how chatty and friendly the people here are, since I have nothing to compare it with. When I was walking down the street searching for a cheap hostel (I failed), four people asked me if I needed help. When you stick your thumb out to catch a ride, the first or second car will stop and the driver will ask you millions of questions about where you are from, shower you with good advice and generally be adorable.
If only I could understand them. After two basic courses and seven weeks in South America, I was
feeling rather confident in my conversational Spanish skills, but all of a sudden, I don’t understand a word. B becomes v, pollo becomes pojo or ave, and the s is generally not pronounced. The cool people say “Buena” instead of “Buenos dias” and when we order carne de res (beef in Spanish), we look into quizzical faces and have to resort to making animal noises. Luckily, on some occasions, communication becomes secondary. In the Valle de la Luna in San Pedro, we seperated from our Spanish-speaking group and made alien faces, and on our tour of a pisco distillery in Vicuna, we respectively blagged comprehension and grinned stupidly after tasting 67% strong liquor.
And here in our little cabana on the river, complete with kitchen, towels and private porch (paradise), we are enjoying each other’s company only, which is a nice change. We spend the day playing ping pong and Kniffel, sunbathing and swimming, the evenings cooking, drinking red wine, listening to sentimental music and generally being all lovey-dovey to each other. Life’s good.
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