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Peru's Border
An Exercise in Acceptance. Well well. It's certainly been a long time since I sat down at the computer to update this 'diary'. My fault on that one, but I can say in my defense that I have been gainfully employing my time on another project. This is a project which I hope may bear fruit in the near future. I must say, if you've had a project burning in the back of your mind that requires a lot of time to develop, then pack your stuff and go somewhere cheap to live. It's even better if you can find somewhere cheap and nice to drive around and explore. Chile and Argentina have fit the bill for me perfectly. I could never have spent so much time and thought on my project if I'd been at home in Australia. Most days I spend glued to the laptop, staring intently at numbers and squiggly lines mumbling unintelligibly to myself. Unless I'm driving, eating, sleeping or flying then I'm on the laptop. Doesn't sound like a holiday in a far away land, I know, but trust me, this is the way I like it. Why not be productive in a beautiful land as well as on 'holiday'? Anyway, I digress. I guess I just wanted to let you know I hadn't slipped off into a world of never-never, drugs, debauchery or anything else.. (well, not for more than a couple of days at a time). Peru When I last wrote, I was heading north into Peru. I did make it successfully into Peru, and past Tacna. Tacna and the 'frontier' region did have me a little bit concerned. I'd heard stories of corrupt Cops on the prowl for Gringo tourists, and foreign (Chilean) plates are a dead give-away. Apparently the motorcycle mounted Cops are the worst, waiting patiently for unsuspecting motorists to pass and then pulling out behind them. Anything they can pin on you they will, however, I hear that they are most forgiving after a cash payment. I drove north out of the border station with a sense of apprehension, and with my eyes peeled for any signs of a Police presence. I drove into Tacna obeying all the road signs and posted limits. Cars whizzed past me without a single regard to the limits. What could I do? I didn't want to stand out by obeying the laws so I sped up and began running the stop signs too. You gotta' fit in. It's a strange to feel that the Police are your major cause for concern about being robbed. I needed two things from Tacna. A map of Peru and clear directions on how to get out of town quickly. I had seen some Cops lurking around and managed to avoid them all so far. After parking the car in a very public place, and paying a 'spotter' to keep an eye on it, I set out to find a good map. Whilst walking around town I felt quite relaxed, and started to feel like a 'normal' tourist. There's lot's of parks, water fountains and pretty things to see. Backpackers were congregated in groups as per anywhere else, and it all started to feel pretty touristy. Eventually I found a map. It cost me three Peruvian pesos for an A3 photocopy of a photocopy which someone had been kind enough to colour in with texta. In the photocopy you could even see the worn edges of the original map. "Better than nothing" I thought and I headed for my car, and then the exit of town. Driving out north of Tacna, the road runs parallel to a massive sand ridge which is absolutely covered in rock 'art', or 'graffiti', however you like think of it. The culture of the Inca lives on. The road eventually swings towards the sand ridge and then runs at an angle up to the top, leveling out onto another desert plateau. Yay! I'm on my way!!
All was going brilliantly, driving through the desert and imagining all of the tropical beaches and flying sites to the north; when, after rounding a bend in the road I saw another Customs checkpoint. "No problem", I thought, "I've done this a million times and I'm squeaky clean." Almost right from the outset they had me singled out and I was directed into a holding bay for further questions. "Damn it, this is going to cost me." The guys at the checkpoint were friendly enough, and there were enough Officers around that any one Officer should be relatively discouraged from extracting bribes. I was asked for my papers which I produced quickly from habit. A quick cursory glance and the guy asks for my 'temporary exit' paper. Sun - "?Que
cosa?" (What thing?) Hmm, if this was an essential piece of paper then even if I managed to bribe my way past this checkpoint, it would be something that would raise the price of future bribes. So, with a grumble of resignation I turned back for Chile (75Km south). Driving back through Tacna I had my first and only encounter with the Peruvian traffic Police. I had spotted them from a mile away, and maneuvered my way to close behind another car, hoping that that car would be pulled and not me. It didn't work, the Peruvian Cops are probably very accustomed to that trick. I pulled over with a knot growing in my stomach. But I was prepared; I had stashed all but 10 (sacrificial) Peruvian pesos away in the safe. I mustered my best non-cheesy smile at this mountain-of-a-man Cop. He was impeccably presented, with a starch ironed shirt, shiny badges, one-way aviator sunglasses like the American Cop in 'Terminator', and a big scowling frown. Uh-oh. Cop - "Papers
please." Another big frown ....big pause... Cop wanders off for a lap of the car, papers and my passport in hand. Whilst he was away, I surveyed the other Cops at the temporary road-block. Many of them appeared to be very high ranking, and there seemed to exist the kind of awkwardness that you get between Recruits and big-brass. I started having the thought that 10 pesos was not going to cover this situation and that if I had to open the safe (after a vehicle search) then this was going to be a very expensive day. Robo-Cop returned to my window, and motioned me on with a gruff "!Fuera!" (Out). I guess he couldn't extract his normal pay bonus with so many superior, and possibly unknown Officers around. I reckon if it was just him and me it would have cost me, without doubt. But, I got away! Phew! That night back in Arica, having been through the Chile / Peru border checkpoint I decided to load up on supplies and try again in the morning. I drove back up to the border and started my enquiries, what was this piece of beauracratic b/s and where do I get one? The first Officer shook his head and called his Supervisor. The Supervisor rifled through some manuals, then to the Chilean Government website, and then turned to Google!! Obviously no one knew anything. Apparently not many Gringos buy cars in Chile and then drive north. After four hours of talking with various Officials, always working my way up the chain, I was told that non-Chileans can under no circumstances drive a Chilean registered car north of the frontier zone. WTF? Ok, time for a new plan. Soooo.... What next? Sooooo... What next? Well, I really do have a penchant for the high desert - the alti-plano. And I'd seen enough of Chile for the time being so it was time to cross the mountains into north-western Argentina. I hadn't seen San Pedro de Atacama yet and I'd heard some great stories from there, and just east of San Pedro was another mountain pass into Argentina, perfect. Loaded with fresh supplies from Arica I set off down the inland highway, which is also the major north-south Chilean highway. The landscape was barren and mostly flat, punctuated by the occasional little town. I turned east off the highway and towards San Pedro. The road became steeper, the altitude higher and with the mighty little Peugot getting slower. One of the major attractions in the area is Valle de Luna (Valley of the Moon). It lays just west of San Pedro, and, having arrived mid-day made a great detour. I wasn't sure if it was going to be 2WD accessible as the road quickly degenerated into a patchwork of pot-holes, pavement, rocks, mud, sand and more rocks. Valle de Luna is certainly worth the visit! The rocks, dirt and sand are collected in patches, reams and other bizarre patterns by colour and type. Very strange indeed! All of the surrounding desert is flat, with a large salt flat to the immediate north-west. Somehow, in the Valle de Luna, time and erosion have been distorted. Salt seeps out of the rock formations and forms a crumpled crust, with conical sections broken away by the effects of the wind. There's not a lot of rain, maybe one brief shower every four or five years.
I spent half the day there, wandering aimlessly around the formations. Sitting, thinking and photographing. Other than two other tourists who left shortly after I arrived, I had the place to myself. San Pedro de Atacama I like San Pedro. It's very very obviously a tourist magnet, with streams of tourists milling up and down the two main roads in the centre of town. There are stores selling panchos, hats, flutes, post-cards, tours, renting bicycles and everything a tourist could want. There's a myriad of restaurants. The construction techniques employed to build the restaurants and pubs is classic South American - using cheap and often second-hand materials they create some really opulent, stylish and yet at the same time homely and relaxing environments. It's easy to slip into another space and time, back to the frontier days of the Spanish colonialists, until you're rudely brought back into today's inflationary world by receiving the bill.
I stayed for six days in San Pedro. I have taken a shine to amateur botanical studies here in South America, so many different plants to see. One of the famous, albeit rare plants in the area is locally known as the San Pedro cactus, a.k.a. Peyote. My first discreet enquiry proved semi-successful in that the guy said he had contacts. And for sure, this guy was definitely in 'the business' as over the following days I saw him selling many of the area's other local plants. Unfortunately the season has been unkind to the San Pedro cactus' and demand has been high, so, I lucked out on the cactus, but not for lack of trying.
Anywhere near a tourist town and you can expect to pay 'elevated' prices for just about everything. One afternoon I decided to drive out to one of the local thermal spas to have a bath and camp for the night. My guide book (2005 Edition) said the thermal there cost CH$5,000, or about AU$10. That's pretty steep compared with other thermals I'd been to, but I figured what the hell, it's not like I'm broke. When I got there the price on the sign had been changed to CH$10,000! Ok, now that's steep. Thinking for myself, I reasoned that according to the law of gravity the thermal should empty into a stream somewhere downhill. I turned the car around and drove about a kilometer down the road. Sure enough I found a beat-up little dirt track going vaguely in the direction of where the stream should be. The track opened out and finished on a flat area, with the stream running right alongside it. I got out to test the water and found it much to my liking. Perfect, free and with not another soul in sight! Yay! I stripped off and went for a swim in perfectly clear and warm water in the middle of the high desert, surrounded by mountains and the sunset.
San Pedro was a lot of fun. On many nights I and some new friends would create or join parties on the town's riverbed. People are super-friendly there and there's a great party atmosphere. The 'town' closes at 11:30 each night, but if mingle in the main street with the largest group you can find, then you're bound to be invited to one of the many 'after-parties' at private homes or in artist workshops. Time to head east, back into Argentina. I didn't know what to expect as I had heard nothing of the area. I just knew there'd be mountains and desert. Driving east of San Pedro I was quickly rewarded with some absolutely beautiful landscape! Salt plains mingled with the occasional volcano and quilt works of yellow shrubs. The road was is good condition and the air was cool. I cranked up the stereo and all was good with the world. Argentina Returning to Argentina felt great. I really do like this place and think that if I were to ever live somewhere other than Australia, then this would be it. At this point I still had no idea of where I was going and what I'd see. Obviously I had a map with me but a map simply shows routes. I would wait until I got to where-ever and decide then, sometime, in the future. No plans. No rush.
In the late afternoon / early evening I arrived back down to flat-lands east of a major mountain range. Upon exiting the mountains the road I was on came to an end at a 'T' intersection, complete with another Police checkpoint. Darkness was setting in and I decided to turn south and look for something to eat. I drove on until I found a small town and a mini-market. Sometimes these mini-markets can be hard to find. Often it's a matter of driving around until you see people coming and going from a building with groceries. The stores are not always well advertised. I bought some basic groceries and returned to the car for a good night's sleep. In the morning, and still in amazement of the landscape I'd seen the day before which only got better as I descended the mountain, I figured I should turn north. The border to Bolivia was only a couple of hundred kilometers away, so why not?
Tilcara Driving north I arrived into a town called Tilcara. I spotted a likely looking place to stay the night. Right behind the camping area was a river, and, being a hot day would make a welcome place for a swim. In the town itself was some kind of music festival which had attracted literally thousands of young Argentines. The town's campsite was overflowing, and every street was lined with torrents of backpackers looking for food, alcohol, bathrooms and somewhere to sleep. I figured I'd landed well on the outskirts of town (ah, the benefits of your own wheels). Also as bonus, where I'd chosen to set camp, a group of four had also set camp there and started cooking a great BBQ. After struggling to understand Chileno Español for ages (and still), their more cultured and clearly spoken accent from Cordoba was a breeze. For the first time I actually felt like I was having a decent conversation in Español. Of course Chileno Español is perfectly understandable by other Chileno's, but they tend to mumble, talk very rapidly, not finish their words succinctly and use a LOT of slang. Talking with Argentines is always easier for me.
The group from Cordoba were great fun and really hospitable. They insisted I join them for the BBQ (which I politely resisted, but only briefly). They supplied the food and I brought out the wine I had, and turned on some tunes. The tunes were going well and the conversation turned to local music. I'd never heard of Los Tekis (an Argentine band) but was keen to hear it. Turns out I had heard it played, but never knew the group's name. Beautiful! What a pleasure! Eating a big Argentine BBQ, listening to the music, surrounded by the mountains and a river to the east. Ah, total cultural immersion. Fantastic! After a while, out came musical instruments and everyone got a chance to join in. It suprises me how many here people play musical instruments. I guess that in an area where people don't rely as much on stereos, they turn to cheap home-made instruments and learn to play. It's a cultural thing. I brought out the flute I'd bought only a short time before and had become convinced was defective; I couldn't get it to make even just a note. I handed it to a local of Mapuche descent and he played it beautifully! What a master!
Something that caught my eye was a solar collector dish. It was located on the opposite side of the road from where I'd camped at Tilcara. Of course I was fascinated by the thing and really wanted to speak to the owner and ask a bunch of questions. It turned out that the solar oven was manufactured right there in their own workshop, and that they manufacture solar ovens, solar heaters and many other contraptions which you can't buy anywhere else. The owner (Armando) was a little abrasive at first, but he quickly warmed to my presence, questions and desire to take photo's. All of their products are made from recycled components. Electric motors, photo-voltaic cells, aluminum panels, framework and the lot are salvaged from whatever they can get. They sell the finished products into the local economy and make a reasonable living from it. Certainly they don't do high volume, and every product has it's own unique design which requires increased engineering time. The workshop is a combined engineering / fabrication shop and artist's residence. It had a great feel (once in good with Armando). If you're ever in the area, pop in and check it out. The Road from Tilcara to the Bolivian Border
La Quiaca - At the Bolivian Border La Quiaca was mildly interesting. The drive there made up for it in a big way. I drove right to the border point to have a look. The town is basically split in two parts, each part on either side of the river which forms the border.
La Quiaca was interesting in that it was a border town and you could easily see the differences in the wealth of the people. Bolivians would be walking around with a ton of stuff on their back that they were hoping to sell. You could see it everywhere. Considering that they had a couple of hours to wait each time they crossed the border from one part of 'town' to the other, only to earn a few dollars profit, well, what can I say? Again, I felt very fortunate.
During my brief visit in La Quiaca, the sky grew darker and then the clouds broke in a big way. It hailed really hard. I parked the car underneath a tree to try and protect the panels. Within minutes the place looked like it was under snow.
Returning South Having satisfied my curiosity of north western Argentina, I turned south. Next major stop would be the Reyes thermals, just west of San Salvador de Jujuy. Driving up into the mountains quickly revealed rain-forest looking country. Everything was wet and looked like it always was. Every inch of ground was covered in lush plant-life. Clouds hung in the mountains and water flowed everywhere. Sure made a nice change from the dry, dusty and parched landscape of Chile. Cafayate Driving still further south I came across some landscape that totally blew me away, just north of Cafayate. Everyone I tell of Cafayate says, "Oh, you mean Calafate." No, I mean Cafayate. Different town. Why do people argue things they don't know? Beats me. Anyway, Cafayate is really nice and it seems newly discovered on the tourist trail. Small packs of backpackers moved down the streets in search of accommodation. The town is struggling to keep up with the surge in tourism there. Cafayate has a lot to offer. The natural attractions and resources are impressive. Apparently it has one of the biggest underground reserves of water in South America, I would guess second only to the Amazon region. I reckon I could live here too.
Time to Return to Chile I didn't take photo's on this leg of the journey as much of the ground I'd already covered in previous trips. The only remarkable event of the return trip was when I paid my one and only Police bribe. I'd been prepared for bribe payments in Peru, but was totally unprepared within Argentina. Almost every town has at least one Police checkpoint where they ask to see your papers and check you out. Mostly the Cops in Argentina (and Chile) have been straight forward and some even really fun. Often they ask how you're enjoying yourself, and make sure you have enough water and fuel to make the next section of desert. They'll let you know of any disruptions on your route or anything else you should be aware of. They're great. However, towards the end of one very hot day of driving approximately 500Km's, I arrived in a small town. The sun was right on the horizon and I had a sudden thought that a couple of beers would be a good idea for the last 100Km of the day. I spotted a bottle shop on the side of the main road and pulled up. I walked in, bought two big bottles and walked back to the car. These one litre bottles are the sort where you crack off the lid and can't seal them again. I took a large swig out of the first, put the bottle down between the seats, started the engine and drove on... Unfortunately for me, only a hundred metres up the road, right in the blinding sunlight was a Police checkpoint. They'd seen me take a swig, and I hadn't seen them. Remember, it's zero tolerance here. You're not allowed any alcohol in your blood while driving, nor an open bottle of alcohol in a car. Uh-oh. When I stopped at the check-point, I noticed that the two Cops weren't wearing their name tags, nor their rank. Hmm, they still had big guns and radios though. Sun - "Hola
Señor, here's my papers..." I opened my wallet with the two of them standing right there. As I opened the wallet I realised there was several hundred pesos in there - shit. I quickly used slight of hand to conceal the contents and selected the only 20 peso note amongst the 50's. I held out the 20 peso note and half asked, half stated, "Listo?" (ready?).. "Si, Listo." At first I was feeling a bit ripped off, but I hadn't put two and two together and realised that I'd been seen drinking beer in my car, and paid to avoid a night in jail and bigger fines. When I did put two and two together, I laughed and felt much better. I still like Argentina, and the Cops. Wrap Up Hopefully you've enjoyed reading this 'diary'. I will write one more page at the very end of the trip. At the time of writing this second last page I have only two weeks more here, which I'm sure will fly by. I'll miss this place and I certainly intend to come back again and explore a bunch more, albeit differently. If there's something you want to do, go and do it now. The future is unknown. :o) Sun |
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