Atacama: A Desert of Superlatives

After almost getting robbed, passing through one of the strangest border crossings seen yet, and sliding through Peru's customs with an over-extended visa sans charge (but not without getting written up on a legal document for attempting to smuggle Peruvian Granny Smith apples into Chile), Amanda and I are in finally in the longest and skinniest country in Latin America.

Chile is 2,600 miles long but only reaches a maximum width of 110 miles. That said, there is pretty much only one way to pass through Chile - from top to bottom, or bottom to top. Our first stop was Arica, an industrial beach town - barely 20 minutes away from the northern border. We arrived just 2 days after Chile's President Pinera had declared a tsunami warning across the entire country, and specifically an evacuation of Arica on March 11, following the disaster in Japan. "Is it safe to enter Chile?" we asked dubiously as we loaded our bags into the mysterious "taxi" that would carry us out of Peru. "I wouldn't be taking you across if it wasn't, would I?" our sly driver replied. After 5 months in Latin America, I was a little wary of this answer...

Regardless we arrived. And our first impression of a new country? Arica - be it because of the tsunami scare or because it was Sunday, was a ghost town. It was as though we had been dropped off in a Latin American version of Jim Carrey's Truman Show and then they had spontaneously cut funding; we had landed in Chilean Pleasant Ville but without any people. Too tired to enjoy the beach (and for Mands and I, that's tired) and too confused to want to explore the city, we left and headed inland - if there is such a thing in this thin country - to the desert. The Atacama Desert: THE highest, THE driest and one of the coldest deserts in the world.

The Highest

We arrived in San Pedro de Atacama, a village that sadly exists almost exclusively for tourism, early in the morning and beyond groggy from our 12 hour bus ride. Completely exhausted from spending 2 of the last 3 nights on buses, we dropped our bags and decided to get our daily run over with before it got too hot. We set off into the desert but quickly our legs ached, our throats burned, our lungs panted, and we felt to put it bluntly, like shit. Had we lost all fitness that quickly? When we weren't running we were at least hiking the Andes!

Had I taken the time to read my Lonely Planet Bible - chapter Chile, section Atacama Desert - before we arrived, I would have known that we were in fact situated almost 2 miles high, at one of the lowest points of the highest desert in the world. The average height across the desert is 13,000 ft (Note: The highest peak of the Rockies is 14,440 ft.)

The Driest

Yesterday we rented bikes and rode through the dusty dirt roads at our own pace - a welcome change from the herding cattle feel that Machu Picchu was at times. Amanda, Robert - a journalist from Texas who we Spirit Bumped into in Cuzco and again here in San Pedro (you always meet twice!), and I packed our water bottles and cameras and mounted our in-surprisingly-good-shape Treks. We rode relaxed, exploring new paths and attempting to understand how such a barren, dry, hot landscape could kiss the base of snow covered volcanoes.

As we passed through small towns of adobe houses with shallow irrigation ditches lining the roads and sage bushes struggling to grow, I was hit with a pang of homesickness - stronger than I have felt yet. The dry heat, the similar plant species, and the looming mountains all reminded me so strongly of New Mexico. Yet I kept reminding myself that not only am I miles and miles south, I am also in the driest desert in the world. Though I'm still not sure whether this reminder helps me cope with feeling so far away or if it just confuses me more...

The Atacama desert is one of the few deserts on earth that does not receive any rain. Moisture is blocked on both sides; on one side of the 600 mile-long strip of desert lies the Andes Mountains, on the other the Chilean Coast Range - a mountain range that runs parallel between the Pacific coast and the Andes. The town of San Pedro was born out of one of the few natural oases within the vast dry emptiness.

[One of] the Coldest

Determined to get into the heart of the Atacama and away from NM look-alike, Amanda and I woke up this morning at 3:30 am (we seem to do this a lot these days...) to join a tour to the Tatio Geothermal field to watch the famous geysers at sunrise. We drove 2 hours east and over 2000m up in elevation, so that when we stepped out of the car our toes and noses froze instantly. Oh. My. Gosh. Who would have thought that a desert could be so dang freezing! But then I suppose when you're standing 8km from the Bolivian border (the only thing anyone says about Bolivia is how cheap and cold it is) and when you find yourself suddenly much closer to the snow capped volcanoes than you were before, it at least makes a little more sense. Kind of.

Our guide Salvador whisked us along through the field casually explaining that there are 600 volcanoes in Chile, of which 150 are active. The magma under our feet is constantly boiling the water of the underground river that is fueled by snow melt from the tops of the volcanoes. Every few feet a hole bubbling over with hotter than hot water would shoot a burst of steam. And to make things more ridiculous, this field boasts The Highest Geysers in the World. The contrast of the steam against the frost-forming air was definitely worth the 3:30 a.m. brutal awakening. And after a couple hours of huddling in the llama sweater I spontaneously splurged on in Cuzco, the sun began shining, making one of the coldest deserts in the world seem a little less cold.

At times the last fews days have looked like New Mexico, and at times it has looked like Mars. But despite it's different faces, the Atacama Desert of Chile will at least be remembered for a long time as being high, dry, and cold. It is, as climatologists describe it, an "absolute desert."

Hiking Through a Photograph

Sometimes the universe makes decisions for you. And in those times, I suppose, it is best to submit yourself to the mysterious ways in which the world works...

From the beginning - back when Amanda and I were working extra shifts at our respective restaurants in our respective states - we planned not only to do Machu Picchu, but to do it right. We put in extra hours, driven by the motivation to save up enough money to be able to climb the renowned Inca Trail. When in Central America and faced with the decision to eat just bread and cheese or to add avocado, we always opted for less, knowing that Machu Picchu was coming. Climbing the "lost" Incan City was the one part of our plan that remained on the to-do list since Day 1.

That said, we still didn't have a trek booked by the time we got to Cusco. Since November, we had done endless research on the best, cheapest, most reliable tour agencies, and while we were resigned to drop up to $500 for the event, we just couldn't bring ourselves to actually whip out our credit cards.

We arrived in the gorgeous, antique city of Cusco with little more than a vague idea that we wanted to see the infamous ruins and that we wanted to do the 4 day Inca Trail trek, complete with camping out under the stars. After walking aimlessly through the Plaza de Armas dazed and confused by the constant bombardment of travel agents all offering tours "for the best price in Cusco," we picked the "best" - aka the less invasive and obnoxious - and stepped into their office - a closet-sized hole tucked alongside a similarly sized tattoo parlor and a money changing booth, all hidden behind the sign for a "cofe shop". Who knew that the tidy streets of the central plaza in fact lead to a secret network of tourist traps and alpaca sweater vendors? We bargained with our new friend Fidel and dropped the price of the 4-day Inca Trail to $275, half of what we originally thought we were going to pay. (A word for future travelers: Don't book expensive tours ahead of time! There are seas of people willing to book you a trip for cheap as long as you can wait around a couple of days. And if you must wait in one of the most beautiful cities in Latin America...well, guess life could be worse.) Excited, paid up, and ready to climb we headed back to the hostel to rest our aching legs and lungs - hello altitude, haven't seen you in a while.

6:00 a.m. Monday morning: Amanda and I sit outside our hostel, bundled up against the early morning mountain temperatures, and wait for our tour guide to pick us up.

8:00 a.m. : Still no sign. Until Fidel comes huffing and puffing up the hill distressed. Something happened and someone wrote the wrong names down and something else happened and you can't go. Come again? I know my Spanish ain't perfect but that just didn't make sense. You can't go on the Inca Trek, I'm very sorry, he repeats. We are given 2 options: either we can wait until Wednesday to begin our 4 days or we can go on the Jungle Tour today for 1/2 the price we already paid and the agency will refund us. How about option 3, we suggest, how about we go on the Jungle Tour today for less than 1/2 the price? OK, Fidel says, and we are quickly swept into a taxi, then to to the closet-sized office for paperwork (although they couldn't get that right the first time so why bother now?), to another taxi, to a van. And then to the mountains. With no idea what we're doing, where we're going, who we're with...When in Peru!

The first day we biked for 30 miles, or really I suppose it is more like we careened downhill on one-speed mountain bikes along fog coated mountain roads through the rain. And if anyone has seen me mountain bike (Stephanie Thornton, Tyler Brown, Robin Daniels...) then you know it was mildly amusing. But we made it! Alive, wet and smiling.

That night we slept in a hostel in the tiny village of Santa Maria, nestled in the Incan Sacred Valley of the Andes. Although disappointed we were missing out on the camping element of the trip, the instant our heads hit the pillows we were out cold. Only to wake up to a downpour. And I do not exaggerate. Absolute downpour. Perhaps it is for the better that we didn't sleep in a tent after all...

Day 2 and 3 we hiked through unreal scenery, winding our way up and down towering lush mountains and along the raging Urubamba River. It felt like we were hiking through a storybook, walking into professional photographs. Our group of 8 stopped frequently to take photos of the "prettiest view," only to turn the corner to something even more spectacular. I still can't put into words the incredible beauty that encompassed us. And as I hiked, calves sore and lungs tired, I kept wondering...what is tomorrow going to hold? Even the most traveled of travelers say that seeing Machu Picchu is breath-taking, life-changing. What does this Incan city do to people?

3:30 a.m. Amanda and I wake up, once again to a downpour. We toss on the only dry clothes we have left, throw our ponchos over our heads and duck out into the rain. We stumble in the dark along the dirt road towards the entrance to Machu Picchu. 20-minutes later we reach the looming gate and stand in line with a hundred other crazy tourists, everyone waiting, shivering, for the gate to creek open to begin the race to the top to earn tickets to Wayna Picchu. (Only the first 400 people to arrive to Machu Picchu are able to hike the infamous Wayna Picchu - the mountain that overlooks the Incan city where you are able to snap the famous postcard shot of the ruins.)

4:45 a.m., and not a minute early, the gate opens and Amanda and I jostled through the crowd, as though caught in a herd of cattle. After 200m of a flat dirt trail, the steps begin. 2,500 of them. Which in the dark, with only one small flashlight to share (no, not the most prepared couple), is not easy. The steps are big, the incline steep. As we began passing people who had raced ahead and since stopped to catch their breath, I found myself trying not to equate the hike to a cross country race - the slow and steady wins the race. As Amanda and I gradually pulled further in front of the crowd, we looked back down the hill - all you could see was a switchback trail of flashlights. In front of us all we could see were a couple hooded figures. The hoods, the dark, the flashlights, the fog, all gave the sense that we were on the way to a spiritual seance.

And when we got to the top...there were only 5 people in front of us waiting for Wayna Picchu - no worry there! Although we had gotten up so early mainly because we were nervous about being in the top 400, the walk was more than worth it. The view at the top as light poked through the clouds for the first time that day was incredible, despite our shivering.

The first look onto the ruins after passing through the official entrance was, with a fear of sounding cliche, breathtaking. Days have passed and I still can't fully put into words the sense of awe that this site invokes in every since person that steps onto the grass and looks down at this terraced city.

In 2007, Machu Picchu was listed as one of the 7 Modern Wonders of the World. It is on the same list as Chichen Itza, famous Mayan ruins I visited in December when in Yucatan, Mexico. While the archeological feats are on the same level as Chichen Itza, I was not blown away in Mexico like I was here. Why? Perhaps because when you gaze out over these ruins you are not only staring at an engineering wonder, but you are also completely taken aback by the pure environmental beauty and power that the Andes hold. The fact that this beautiful city lies within one of the most enchanting landscapes in the world is what makes this experience beyond belief.

And as I stood on the top of Wayna Picchu looking down, I fully understood that yes, the universe makes decisions for you sometimes. I chose to come to South America with a rough outline of how and when. The rest came together and somehow I landed in Cusco with more money than I thought I would have. We booked a trek, but the universe decided that we should do Machu Pichhu this way - a way that was gorgeous, perfect, and cheaper. (Allowing us to put the money towards something we never considered...like flying to Patagonia??) And now, since I never got to do the Inca Trail, I suppose I will just have to come back.

View more photos HERE!

Against the Grain

Butterfly that met its fate along a highway currently being widened. Wasn't quite enough for the dump truck tire though trying to make a comeback...

"Everyone believes that the main aim in life is to follow a plan. They never ask if that plan is theirs or if it was created by another person. They accumulate experiences, memories, things, other people's ideas, and it is more than they can possibly cope with. And that is why they forget their dreams....'

'No one nowadays can spend their whole life traveling.'

'Not physically no, but they can on a spiritual plane. Going farther and farther, distancing yourself from your personal history and from what you were forced to become."

~Paulo Coelho, The Zahir

Spirit Bump

"Sometimes you meet someone for a day, sometimes for a week. But as long as they have an impact on your life, then there's a reason you met them," my friend Robert - from Jamaica, now living in London - told me. "Sometimes you just have a...a Spirit Bump with someone."

Living "on the road" I meet the most incredible people; folks from England, Australia, New Zealand, Holland, Germany. Not to mention from all across South America. I've met a group of hilarious Argentinians traveling for 2 weeks during their summer break, and a young gent from Belgium who left home over a year ago and has since graced four separate continents. When everyone you meet is doing the same thing - living out of a backpack as simply and as cheaply as possible - how can you not have an instant bond?

After arriving to a new hostel you first go through The 5 Questions at least 40 times:

• Where are you from?
• Where have you been?
• How long have you been traveling for?
• How much time do you have left?
• Where are you going next?

Occasionally one of these questions leads to a longer conversation. But more often, by the last one you're nodding your head politely and thinking "shit, I already forgot their name." But then sometimes, you meet a Spirit Bump - someone you have a connection with and can't really explain why. With a Spirit Bump you shoot past The 5 Questions and find yourself comparing cultures, discussing micro-finance theory, and telling pent up stories of past relationships and family dynamics. And you think to yourself - how did the conversation get to this point with someone I met just 20 minutes ago?

Back in Puerto El Morro, Ecuador when we said goodbye to fellow volunteer Stefan from Germany, he told us in parting: "You always meet twice in life." And with that in the back of my mind, when I part ways with new friends, I try to say - see you in Buenos Aires, when I'm traveling Europe I'll look you up! Yet...after a couple months of saying goodbyes, after seeing people come and go, it's hard not to feel a little cynical, a little discouraged. It is human nature to seek out connections with people; it is natural for people to scour one's community - or even the world - for others they have a bond with. How then can a life of travel be sustainable? How can you keep your spirits up when some of the most remarkable people you've ever met come in your life and in the course of 3 days exit just as suddenly?

It is here where Jamaican Robert came into my life. Just when I was feeling cynical, he explained the Spirit Bump - that everything, and everyone, happens for a reason. And then yesterday night as Amanda and I were about to board the train down the mountain from Machu Picchu to Cusco, German Stefan's theory panned out. As we stumbled out of a small tienda holding bags of snacks for the journey home, we ran smack into Sweedish David - my absolute favorite person from our time volunteering in Pisco.

The universe spoke at just the right time proving that when you meet someone you care about - even if it's a Spirit Bump just for a few days - your worlds will collide again...or at least twice in life.

Carnival, Cuzco Style

Carnival is the celebration that kicks off Lent; it is a 4-day party to eat, drink and be merry before the fasting and pious practices commence for the 40 days until Easter. Traditionally, before Lent began all fatty and rich foods had to be rid of - so what better way to dispose of yummy things than by throwing a ridiculously large fiesta? And thus, Carnival was born.

This Roman Catholic based holiday occurs world-wide - from India to Belgium, Italy to Portugal. Rio de Janeiro boasts the biggest Carnival in the world. In the States, it is Mardi Gras in New Orleans. Yet while the festivities vary country to country, all include parades, disguises, and public street parties.

Here is Cuzco's Carnival: a war of shaving cream, silly string, water balloons, water pistols, and buckets of water. Needless to say, the kids definitely dominated.

Culture Clash?