Happy Mother´s Day

I emailed my mom yesterday thinking (and hoping) that I wouldn´t have internet access today. Since I am here, I can with another Happy Mother´s Day to my mom and to every other mom reading.

I got to San Pedro de Atacama with the hope of seeing salt flats and getting back in the travel groove. I did both and was only dissatisfied with the salt flats. My first full day, I started by wandering out the front door of the hostel, expecting to get a lay of the land and avoid organized tours. 5 hours later, I returned with a pretty good sunburn, about 7 miles on the internal odometer and some tired legs. I ended up walking to an archeological site, visiting ruins from an old military settlement that was destroyed over 500 years ago. The ruins were interesting but the view was what made it. San Pedro de Atacama, as I mentioned, is in the driest desert in the world. 3 days prior to my arrival, the town got a deluge of rain, dusting the surrounding mountains and volcanoes with snow. The site had two paths, one giving a gorgeous view of the mountains, the other giving a breathtaking view of death valley (named due to mistranslation rather than any real death, it was supposed to be earth valley to match the nearby Valle de la Luna) with visible layers of ash, salt and rock from millions of years back.

When I got back from my hike, I kept with my original plan to join a tour (can´t avoid them all) to the Valle de la Luna for sunset. The tour took our group to view death valley from the side opposite where I had already been. We went from there to another viewpoint, this one with what the guide called a Wile e Coyote rock. The overhanging rock offered maybe a thirty foot drop but was laid in front of a valley hundreds of feet below, offering frightening but not terribly unsafe photo ops.

Our next stop was to an intimidating enclave where we sat in silence as the sun started to go down. The hollow salt structures around us began to ping and crack as they cooled, offering a bizarre but enchanting sound.

We stopped briefly at Tres Marias, a trio of natural stone pillars. We only got to see two unfortnately because a French tourist toppled the third after climbing it for a photo opp.

The final stop was Valle de la Luna where we had to trek up maybe 200 yard of sand dune before gaining the proper point of view. Many tour groups were assembled (apparently far fewer than during peak season) which took some of the wonder out of it but still offered amazing views.

The next morning, I literally followed my gut and joined an 11 hour bus south to Salta, Argentina. I wanted steak and wine and was too close to pass it up. If you look at a map, you will see that I have taken a rather circuitous route through the region but I am enjoying myself and seeing some great places.

Within an couple hours of disembarking, I led three Dutch travelers on an epic steak hunt. We walked back and forth before landing at a pricey but promising steak spot. At ten dollars, the steak was more than I expected but I had come a long way and would not be denied. I housed my 1.2 lb steak, enjoying a nice Cabernet alongside. To my dismay, two of my tablemates left huge portions behind. I talked during the meal about how great it would be to have steak for breakfast and lunch. When we were outside, I realized that they had not gotten takeaway containers and upon commenting was told that only Americans get doggies bags. Now I have not been able to defend all statements starting with "only Americans," but this was a different story.

I had steak the next night, washed it down with local tap water after asking for guidance and I spent the next twenty four hours in a serious disagreement with my stomach. Sleeping and sweating throughout. My fever got up to 103 and dropped to 97 so I feared Malaria. The following day, after some magical cipro, I was out of the woods and was even able to get a nice hike in. Slightly strenuous, the exercise and fresh air seemed to be just what I needed.

After the hike, I sorted out my bus ticket for this morning, bought some provisions for my 24 hour bus ride and managed to get to sleep as the rest of the hostel was going out to the bars. My alarm woke my just ten minutes after the last bar straggler and I made my 7am bus easily. 12 hours later, finally having conked out into deep sleep, I was woken up on Calama where I now sit with two more hours to kill before my connecting bus leaves for Arica. In my feverish stupor, I left my toiletry bag on the bus, adding to the string of good travel with bad peripherals.

Happy Mother´s Day once again!!

Love to all.