The day I fell into a cactus

---

---

So, I have returned to Pisco Elqui as I like it here.got up early today to see the sunrise over the Andes. Sat with a coffee and fag as it slowly presents itself. From darkness to light. Wonderful.Peaceful. All is good with the world. My credit cards are somewhere over the Atlantic en route to me.
Some random thoughts about Chile before I explain how I fell into a cactus.
Chile.
A country the Shape of a chili.
I am warm under the sun and so not chilly.
Dominated by the Andes, making it hilly.
Trying to speak Spanish, sounding silly.
Jose-pinto my Chiloe horse, a colt not a filly,
Me mucho gusto Chile.
Oh, and Chile also rhymes with willy.

So, how did I manage to fall into a cuctus? I suppose if I was scientifically minded the equation would look something like this:
BPxB2q+(vt6 x lg3)+DJ.ap2 - {} = c2tus.
Where
BP = birthday party
B2q = barbeque
Vt6 = many red wines
Lg3 = some lager
DJ.ap2= Disco Dave mixing tunes on his I-touch all night
= balance
C2tus= very hairy cactus with poisonous needles

The day started so well. Bought a ticket for the night bus to La Serona. The 23.59 from Estacion Alemera. The same as last week. Easy peazy, lemon squeezy. Getting in the swing of this Santiago public transport system lark.
I say well, but it was not without it's usual disco issues. It was a lovely goodbye, with hugs all round, to Andy, his parents and girlfriend. 'Mi casa tu casa' we all agreed. With my credit cards en route Andy can forward them to me by internal chile express, national version of fed-ex I suppose. I need to start north if I am going to make it to Machu Piccu in May and see the north the way I saw the south. Tomar mi tiempo.... Take my time.
Having bade farewell to Andy I needed to get the metro two stops from Bilbao on line 4 then change at Tobalaba for line 1. A journey I have made several times since being in Santiago. And so far my ratio of metro usage:getting lost had been zero. Not surprising really as there are signs everywhere and even lines painted on the floor to direct you, like in hospitals to guide you from A&E to the trolleys you lie on waiting to be seen in four hours if you are lucky and then the black line to the mortuary if your stay on the trolley has not been the most productive.
'the metro has been designed for idiots' I remember Andy telling me, the day we met in Santiago some two weeks previous.
So, two stops. Christobel Colon and Tobalaba. Get off at Tobalaba and then on the next train. Knew I had gone spectacularly wrong when the driver announced "Cristobel Colon". Too late, doors shut and next stop was Bilbao. Back where I started. 'No worries' I thought. Plenty of time. Bus not until 23.59, the same time as the week before. Crossed the line, much to the amusement of the security guard who saw me not twenty minutes before, and this time I made the right connection. Arrived at 23.35, 19 minutes to spare. Bay 4. The 23.40 bus was at my stand and so went for a quick fag. Back at 23.55 and there was the bus at 23.56 in bay 4. No worries as I knew the 23.59 was the next bus at that bay. My bus. Check my ticket so see what seat I had,having done this trip before,should be a breeze.
Bus time 23.40 was glaring at me on the ticket. not 23.59 but 23 #ing 40!!
it took some time for me to realise that the 23.40 bus I had seen on my arrival was my #ing bus. "Bollocky Bollocky #ing dogshit bollocks" I muttered to myself.
The woman at the ticket office sold me the wrong #ing ticket. Either that or I wasn't paying attention. I think I will leave it that it was her mistake.
So missed the bus. Found a person who looked in charge and had visions of sleeping at the terminal the night. The man , who looked amazingly like Blakey from 'On the Buses' was the right man to talk to. In my best spanish explained my dilemma and he soon had me sorted for no extra charge on the next bus. "Pay more attention next time" he said. " yeah thanks, it was your employees mistake! I said with my fingers only slightly crossed"
Close call though. Note the self: Read your ticket information you #ing idiot!! This is South America. Take nothing at face value.
So arrived in La Serena. Same minibus driver as last week. He remembered me and we shared a coffee and chatted some at one of the bus termini on the way. Nice chap. Looked like Reg Varney from ' On the buses'. Think I am in some crazy 1970' s time loop. All I need now is an Olive. Will keep em peeled.
As soon as I arrived at El Toroso Hostel, Pisco Elqui, I knew I had made the right decision.
It is Easter this weekend, so need to find somewhere to stay for that period of time, and the Elqui valley seems no better a place to me. Also can visit the thermals some 2800mtrs up in the Andes. The hostel have had a cancellation this weekend and so instead of travelling north on good Friday to the coastal town of Caldera, will stay here tIl Monday and go then, and it is £6 a night cheaper.
Staying at the hostel is Ciro and today (tuesday) is his birthday. He has formed a close friendship with Anita, a woman who has been on the road for nineteen months and who is working the pool bar here until Easter Monday. She is a very attractive Swiss woman of about 34 years. Pink streaks in her hair, a little ditsy and a very infectious laugh. She started travelling in Russia with her boyfriend, which became her ex- boyfriend after a few countries. Anita is also a hairdresser and so she has cut my hair for a beer. Result.
Ciro hails from Valpariso and it is his 36th birthday. As I stayed here for a few days last week, this week I have become part of the furniture. Ciro kindly invited me to his birthday barbeque. It will be at the home of one of the owners of the hostel as he is friends with them.
Chatting over a beer and spag bol about the Foo Fighters concert, which Christine, one of the owners who was there aswell, I reminisced about the time I saw Stevie Wonder in Hyde park with my good friend Tommy Towers in 2010. Played some songs of his on my I-touch and then agreed to be the DJ for the night at the BBQ using my DJay application on said device. Suena bien - sounds good.
The night was a great success. Great food cooked by Ciro. Beef marinated in Pisco. Grilled cheese tomatoes etc. all washed down with copious amounts of carveza and vino tinto.
Small garden with a fire in the middle keeping us warm. Numerous plants and cacti in the garden too, with a drainage ditch separating the flower bed from the lawn.
An extension lead into the garden, plugged the iPod into a mini speaker near the cacti and away I went, mixing some great tunes and everyone was dancing. Unfortunately, vino tinto later I stood in the drainage ditch to mix the next tune, lost my balance and fell arse first into a #ing cactus.
Instant humiliation. The drunk Englishman at the BBQ living up to every known stereotype. But I was not drunk, I lost my balance, honestly.
I was helped up Eidie, by the owner of the crushed cactus. "I'll be fine" I said.
She and the chileans at the party however knew better than me and that immediate action was required. Before I knew it the tweezers were out and whilst one woman pulled the thorns, if that is what they are called, out of my back, the other was rubbing olive oil into it. They realised that my arse was full of thorns too.
There being not much light in the garden they instructed that we needed to go into the kitchen. " rapido" they said. It was important to get the spikes/thorns out of my skin as they are quite poisonous and leave a nasty rash.
And so, thirty seconds later, I was bent over the kitchen table with my trousers down to my ankles whilst one woman pulled thorns/spikes out of my lilly white arse with tweezers and Eidie was rubbing olive oil into my butt-cheeks.
"if this is was happens when one falls into a cactus, I think I should do it more often" I recall saying, to howls of laughter from party goers watching the action.

Footnote. My scientific formula has been pondered over by the best mathematical minds in Chile and they are split 50/50 as to whether it makes sense or not. Doesn't surprise me really, this is South America after all.

Disco out

---

Photos

Party time
The gang

cactus issues
get stuck in.

Cactus issues
ouch