Advertisement
Published: August 14th 2009
Edit Blog Post
1 night con cama
appreciate your pillow. So,
pretty standard really, about 3 weeks behind as always, and had all the best intentions.
it was adios arica. wednesday morning while we attempted to once more digest feo banana for breakfast it was decided enough was enough. we may be saving money but we were not smiling and the sun did not need a hat, but more a stick to beat its way through the ever pressing clouds. we packed up the windbreak and fork (nicked a bit of tarpaulin - forgive me lord but teh dogs did steal the bread) and decided to head south to Iquique where teh ´rough guide´promised surfing hostels, sunshine and a precarious sanddune that leered over the city like a huge slab of chocolate. plenty of time for that.
fortuneatly we managed to hitch a lift into teh central, teh two+ hour hike with bags and body boards wuold not have raised spirits. once at teh bus station I learnt that vital lesson of asking at every kiosk for teh cheapest ticket. . . standard that it would be teh last one and well worth the inquiriing as dinner was actually hot. What followed was 5 hours on a bus, with
yet more endless visas of dessert and teh occasional shanty town amongst teh dunes, looking like a bit of forgotten lego (deffo been in a nursery too long).
Bus ride . . .long hot sticky. finished ´land of a thousand suns´´ well worth a read, richard and judy know what they´re doing when they dish out those prizes.
arrived in iquique. cluod. no sun. my mood aabout as heavy as my backpack and JEss rightly clarifiyed i ´was a poco fed up´´. it was decided iquique was NOT COOL. arrived, booked a bus to teh so called óasis town´óf mamiña where there were theraputic mud baths.
Did come across the most amazing carnival to celebrate Saint Carmen, all of the streets were filled with massive dance tropps of about 70 men and women in elaborate velvet costumes and an abundance of sequins and silver platform boots will bells to rival the spice girls. Each troop had their own band, desperatelky vying to be the loudest. and o my, fanny on the floor. lynx effect hello, men being men while the women shimyed about looking shy.
Set off at 7 next morning for our promised mud spa.
ARrived. oasis, my size 12 arse. another shanty town and just as our bags were removed from the roof rack we wre told the place we had intended to camp had shut down. intrepid explorers that we are we boldly set the windbreak up on a bit of scrub land sheltered by a tree, somewhere in the distance there were panpipes. This place may have a higher population count, but the dessert tribe hardly felt more secure than the campsite. Idiots that we are, we hid our rucksacks in a near by bit of wasteland and set off in search of the mudbaths . . .
Mamiña, mud baths and 12 hours in a windbreak.
THe ´Spa´consisted of showers, a cesspit and an open top prison cell.
In one corner, beneath a towering tree was a 8 foot square ´pool´, teh water naturally heated by thermal connections or some such. Around its edges sat a selection of holidaying chileans in various states of muddy nuddity
Opened the door of the prison cell to be greated by naked 60 year old slapping mud into ever crevice, she cawed ´´cerrar la puerta´´ at our arrival although who
she was preserving her dignity from i am not sure. one of those, we all have the same bits and pieces situations. the men´s cell was next door. We were gived a large bucket of slop and it was pretty clear what was to be done with it. Every woman was very kind, some large bejugged lady in fact gave us all her contact details and invited us to charity events in Santiago.also found out that the town i am lving in has the second highest aids count in chile (as lauren the new girl who lasted 10 days said ´don´t cut yourself).
Coating myself in poo has to be one of the most relaxing and fun times i hae had in chile. the cell came complete with 5 wooden slatted deckchair like recliners in so you could lie and bake in the dessert sun. The ladies, bless their aged souls,seemed to feel they should leave us children alone to relax. Cue lobbing of mud. If you are wandering as to teh odour of this hugely beneficial and sought after mud then just go have a whiff of your local sceptic tank.
After your first layer of fertilser had
hardened it was a quick dip in the cess pit to wash off before returning to the cell to get the full value of your slops bucket. A delightful addition is that when you decided that its time to clean (or realise you ahve just left your bags unprotected in teh middle of the dessert) there were naturally heated thermal showers!!
spent the rest of teh day enjoying the sun (por fin!!) and strolling up and down the hill of mamiña. how people live with so few distractions is a wonder, as with everywhere there was internet readily availble, yet surely it must be more frustrating to have such easy access to anotehr world. The evening meal (food as ever an important element of the day) was perfection. Bread rolls with tomoto chopped on teh guidebook with tuna and mustard. Consumed with much delight and lay back to admire the stars. Never is the sky clearer than in the middle of the dessert.
Time 1900 hours.
At thsi point we had had possilbly a perfect 12 hours and have since decided to say that what followed - 12 hours in a windbreak . counts as a different
day, so as not to soil what was.
at 7 o clock we climbed into the windbreak. being on a patch of scrub land with only torch light and merely a bit of tarpaulin to keep out the winter chill. too cold to have hands exposed to hold books for reading, attempts at cards was thwarted by flying flecks of grit. we lay for about 4 hours , both wishing for sleep until jess farted. There was no more pretending. We were both awake. I having yet more horror film premonistion, jess certain she cuold hear the scratching of a rodent (possibly a hamster). We probablyu had deep meaningful conversations but of what they were my mind is as fugged as that sodding sea mist.
At 7 AM we undid the safety pin, tahnkfully rolled up the shelter and went ot get the bus back to iquique. tHink some of the mud may have femented in unwashed places. Fellow bus passengers who had clearly partaken of the healing springs and slept in teh hotels supplied by such thermal wonders edged away from us.
What was to follow in iquique i am unable to write as it will
probably send dear mammy hells and brucey into shock, safe is to say we met a rather unpleasant character called Francisco who turned out to be a racist, mormon hater (Jess is a half jamaican latter day saint) and when we questioned him ´what he would eat on his last day on earht´ he said . . . ´a woman´´-
all in all, it was decided our search for a classci summer holiday was not happening and it might be better to cut our losses and head back to mammy uno and quanitful pan. My are we glad we did. . . more to come sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooon . . .. . x x
p.s leave La Calera 1 week today so anyone who has got a carepackage planned (peanut butter kitkat chunky please) please keep it safe until i have an adress for argentina. please and tahnk you kindly. to those who have sent mail MANY THANKS. Helen there will be a seperate blog entry where i will quote the exact wording of your last 2 cards. LOVE X X X X
Advertisement
Tot: 0.091s; Tpl: 0.012s; cc: 12; qc: 52; dbt: 0.0485s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.1mb