Chile 2007-8

Easter Island

jenosn — Thu, 13 Sep 2007 05:18:00 GMT

Turning a new leaf in Rapa Nui:

What a rush I was in running around like a headless chicken in preparation for the afternoon flight to Easter Island. Spent most of the morning with a friend of mine, Caroline before packing having only made the decision to leave three days earlier. From the whole experience in Mendoza, Argentina with everything that had happened to me for days I was roaming around quite lost in a sense as if i was an on-looker watching all things happening in my life but as soon as I discovered the idea of Easter Island that all changed. My sensation and feelings for things was rapidly returning. I was excited to get on that plane quite tense and apprehensive at what I would find on this piece of land in the middle of the Pacific ocean.

The night before I could barely sleep a wink it was like 23 christmas´s in one! I was feeling so happy at this moment in time. The plane journey lasted 5 and a half hours, which gives a little insight into just how remote and isolated the Island really is. The nearest neighbours to Easter Island are the Pitcairn Islands approximately 2000km away. All this fantasy of islands drew me back to reading the book ´The teatime Islands´ written by Ben Fogle when I was not only interested in his writing! Ironically having had my bag stolen including all my literature especially my poetry by Pablo Neruda and Rupert Brooke I had the day before decided to purchase some other works by another famous Chilean writer Gabriela Mistral, and I would like to thank the thief for introducing me to a remarkable poet.

Time on the Island went quite quickly. With only seven days to spend there was plenty of things to see. We had breakfast early each morning outside on the porch overlooking the sea. Some mornings it would be quite breezy but I welcomed this as the sun was very warm. We hired a jeep for a couple of days to cruise around the island and to get out of the one high street in the town, where most of the Rapa Nui people live. The other parts to the island varied greatly. On one side there was a gorgeous white sanded beach called Anakena, when I was in heaven swimming in the sea practically everyday, and one our last day we watched a wedding taking place on the beach, a Spanish couple. The other parts were very impressively forested especially since there was severe deforestation on the Island only ten to fifteen years ago. Then of course the mystery of the Moai. The tall intimidating faces made out of stone which stand on the edge of the shoreline and are dotted around all over the Island. No one know just how they were built and reached the position that they stand on today. Closer to the town in orongo lies a huge crater demonstrating dormant volcanic activity from thousands of years ago.

On our travels around we came across a marina where a sailing boat was anchored. On looking closer it was from Chatham, can you believe your in the middle of the pacific and you come across English sailors! They were Sue and Adrian Payne with two young children Ollie and George. The story of their travels became more and more fascinating as the minutes passed. They invited us on board. So we shared English tea and global stories of their adventures on the 38ft Westerley. They had been sailing for five years non-stop and had just left the Galapagos Islands before heading to Easter Island, they were slightly delayed on the Island for 16 weeks waiting for new part to be delivered as their forstay had snapped 5 days away from anywhere in the middle of the pacific. They plan to continue sailing for another three to five more years. The name of their boat is PAGOS if anyone is interested in following them up. The most remarkable part of their story is that were not sailors before they left the UK. Sue stepped foot on a boat 6 months before they left and Adrian had only done a couple of months of boat racing. They are very brave and open minded people and I wish them every success on their continued voyage to Chile on Wednesday.

One other interesting highlight of my experienc of the Island was the generosity of the people. There are only about 4,000 people who are permantly resident on the island and they have a wicked sense of humour! Every month they all have a big barbecue together called a coranto. Where meat, sweet potato and fanta is served. Only this time it was more special than usual as the President of Chile, Michele Bachelet had come to meet everyone. She only made a brief flying visit on her way back from a Summit in Tokyo mainly because it was Easter Island´s National day, the 9th of September. I actually met with her posing as a journalist of course. What else could I do with 10 bodyguards surrounding her! She asked me how I was and I said Im very well thank you and we had a photograph taken! She immediately rushed down to the beach and rolled up her trousers then stepped in to greet the children playing in the water. She sat to eat for only 30 minutes or so before returning to Chile.

I had a truely magnificent journey to Easter Island, it will be unforgettable and that most special of places in this world shall remain in my memory for a long, long time.

In Parenthesis

jenosn — Fri, 17 Aug 2007 06:34:00 GMT

As promised my entry on the meeting with Mr ****´*. I have quoted word for word from my written journal, so apologies in advance if it sounds in any way repetitive. It does however signify just how frustrated I was meeting this ´human being´...

Ok...so not gone as I had hoped with the NGO idea. Something which I feel will become more of a disappointment as time gones on. Met potential business partner today and he turned out to be an absolute control freak! As well as completely self-absorbed. One of the first things he said to me when he collected me from the bus station in Viña Del Mar was(two hours North-west of Santiago):

"I just know I´m going to be famous for something one day, like the ´Nobel´ prize or something."

You can honestly only begin to imagine what I had let myself in for, for an entire day. He was so intense and so pessimistic about the world (and particularly Chile) in which we lived. The day resulted in a huge headache and pleading to go back to my hostel, which thank you god I had booked beforehand (as he had offered his Family´s apartment in town).

He and his emotional state which at first seemed complex but underneath was fairly simple; a combination of anger and frustration. It reduced me to depression,all I kept thinking about was being away from this man.

His qualities don´t end there...He was a complete hipocrit who detests vehemently just about everything which commercialisation and materialism brings to people, yet, he couldn´t point out quickly enough: "When my law suit goes through (two of which he possessed) that´s the car I want, that one." He was also (as we can appreciate) an EXPERT on ´everything,´ and I quote "EVERYTHING." For instance, if people are younger than him they are stupid and inexperienced (note it is his language, not my´n)in particular, photographers, so just to rub it in I told him that I have taken some incredible photographs with my camera!!

We were either a serious clash of personalities or he was one troubled person. He also told me about how he was close to committing suicide five times a day...I thought what am I doing with this random freak. I knew it, I knew it, I should have listened to my instincts, to myself. At least, as yet ´touch wood´ i´m in no sense of danger. I would not have felt safe at that apartment he offered to me. At night I kept imagining his face in the dark...

He did kindly drive me around Valparaiso. He also took me to one of the three houses owned by Pablo Neruda. (But timed how long I took to go around and said I was four minutes longer than anyone else he has shown it to. As well as his house in Southern Chile has many features of the house but only BETTER). Are you getting the picture...

We visited the Bohemian sector of Valparaiso, which is a ten minute drive from Viña Del Mar (where I later stayed and consequently met the American family) where street names included Templeman and Atkinson due to the large infiltration of many English at late 19th early 20th C.

I barely talked the entire day. He was so self consumed. It were as if I were his friend come round to play and entertain him. I only spoke to contradict a ´firm-belief´or his manifesto on todays´society. His opinions on the environment and how he would love to be Austen Powers "yeah baby!" Because in the times of the 60´s when he was growing up there were no problems! The fact thats its barely worth getting through the day with our environmental crisis and overpopulation, and poor sanitation, and capitalisation. All I could think when I got back to the hostel was, Thank you god, Im on my own again. And how do I get away without having to meet this man a second time to face either an argument or temporary depression? As it turned out there was no potential funding for the NGO anyway, as it was purely based on the success of a legal claim. Hardly reliable and a long waiting game for sure.

"yeah baby!!!!!"

Buenos Aires

jenosn — Wed, 15 Aug 2007 06:19:00 GMT

I know its been sometime between my last entry and all thats happened since then, but I´m going to skip a section and write about that on my next instalment...This is about my rather random trip to Argentina:

I had travelled to Valparaiso, a holiday resort on the coast from Santiago for a few days, during which time a lot had happened but thats the other story, Argentina came up when I was wandering around the gorgeous streets up in the hills and had come across an art gallery, or more more importantly a painting that I immediately became attached to, when a guy walked in roughly about the same time as me. He commented on ´my´painting and said it was too abstract for him and that he just wanted a painting to basically fill a space on his wall in his apartment in Los Angeles. We built up a subtly good rapport and I left the gallery with a gentle smile both to the owner and also to well, Brent was his name. He followed me out the door walking behind for a block or so before catching up with me and boldly asking me if I would like to go to dinner with him (and his family) that evening, so I accepted the invitation to treat!

At dinner, (a fairly formal affair) I met his entire family there and then. His brother had quite a chip on his shoulder but I didn´t give him the satisfaction to think that he was affecting me when, out of no where his brother attacked Brent verbally across the table making all others present a captive audience, and I personally felt quite uncomfortable. It appeared to be something which was boiling up over quite sometime and he obviously just exploded. But, luckily things smoothed over.

This is where the question came about if I would like to join them to Buenos Aires, which I thought was a lovely suggestion but just not going to happen. He continued to keep in touch over the course of the weekend and it became more and more feesable that I just thought when they were booking it, what the hell? why not? So... I did...

The total time I spent in Buenos Aires was only three days and I loved every moment of it. Within the first hour I was really taken to the city. It was not what i had imagined at all. It was an extension of Spain, a typical Madrid feel about the place; alive, warm, and friendly people with such a sense of humour (something surprisingly rarely found in Chile). The buildings are exquisite in particular Casa Rosada (where Evita would preach to her subjects). The art gallery contained an incredible selection of Toulouse-Lautrec,Sisley,Degas,Picasso, Monet and Van Gogh. The Tango concert ´La Ventana´ was sensual and dramatic. The place was simply living. I was so surprised that the people of Buenos Aires were so happy with the economic crash that happened only five years previously. An argentinian I was talking to called Frederico just summed up the mood perfectly when he said: when everything goes wrong and people of Buenos Aires feel low and down they just put on the best clothes they´ve got, go out dancing and spend everything they have!!

At each moment and in each direction something always caught your eye, it was magical they have such an identity and spiritual existence. Of course, the company makes the trip and they were a lovely family. Karen, the mother reminded me of Sally Field in so many ways.

It was a memory I will keep with me for quite a long time...as for the guy well, he was all the things that Buenos Aires wasn´t!

On my way back to Santiago II

jenosn — Sat, 4 Aug 2007 01:27:00 GMT

Iquique

Arrived mid-afternoon in Iquique, a short drive south of Arica. Found an overpriced home-stay which turned out to be a mad house, I was so glad to get away from that family. They were simply in your face and would make the most disturbing sounds, all the time. Happily booked on to the bus to Santiago for the following day,

I set out to explore the seaside town. Visited a tremendous theatre in the main plaza, and came across a quaint little cafe in a side street called ´Cafe Antiguo´ it was beautiful. Old upholstered chairs, old typewriters, trinkets, bottles, and mellow painted walls with a pine exterior door. I sat and had coffee and talked with the owner, he was an artista. Sat there for a while listening to ´round the midnight´and such like parisien music being played. Although the coffee was instant pretended it was heavenly. Calle de Baquedano is a beautiful paved street containing colourful Spanish colonial buildings of all different colours and was pedestrianised. I also visited the ´Casino Español´on the main plaza which is a very elegant (by Chilean standards) Moorish building containing the most elaborate interior designs and mosaics.

The next day, I headed Back to the funny house, mid-afternoon to collect my things before catching the bus to Santiago. My hands were full but as I was going out the door they produced and thrusted flyers of the funny farm into my face. They went straight in the bin!

Got on the bus to find no one sitting next to me- what a dream for a 24 hour ride! We went along the sea front waves were breaking well, huge barrels, head-high! Bodyboarders were out in style.

The sun set like a fireball in the sky, I would just loved to have been in that water. On leaving Iquique you are reminded that your still very much in the desert. It is an extremely wild coastline. The rock is spikey and intimidating. It´s also all black rock which reminded me of parts of our South Devon coastline. And the White, white backwash looked so, so cold!!!!!!!!! The airport is even beside the sea. I saw a flight landing on the airway which also runs parallel to the Pan-American highway.

Here´s to a long long ride! And I only had that extra seat for little while I knew my luck would run out eventually.

On my way back to Santiago

jenosn — Fri, 3 Aug 2007 10:01:00 GMT

La Paz-Arica...

I Spent two nights in Arica, (the most northern town in Chile before the border of Peru) feeling quite ill having left such high altitude in La Paz and travelled on an eight hour journey down to sea level, to the town of Arica. Met three Hawaiian big-surf riders and watched them being towed in to some incredible waves. From the view point ´El Morro` I could see out to the island where ´el gringo´ breaks. The swells coming in were just amazing. They wrapped around the island creating another break on the other side which was best to be surfed in the afternoons when the wind had picked up making ´el gringo´ too dangerous to ride. The wave was just incredibly powerful, perfect A-frame, but really heavy, and could equally be surfed in either direction. Visited the war museum from the War of the Pacific in the late 1890´s between Chile and Peru. I also went for stroll along the sea front to the fish market. What an experience that was. Those fish vendors live such a hard hard life. You can see it in their eyes, their skin and their hair; all wrinkly, and overgrown but hold exceptionally lively spirits. One man I remember in particular was cutting the head off this fish and washing the various inner parts which the customer wanted to keep. He then proceeded to slide his heavy duty knife first to the right, then to the left of the backbone before ripping out the vertebrae in one fell swoop. He slid the knife flat down one side, flipped the fish over, then down the other side leaving two bloody fillets on the reddened ceramic tiled counter. The skin was removed from the meat by holding on to the tail end and gently running the knife through. A quick wash in coloured water and bagged in plastic served to the customer, along with all the other parts. It was too late, I was also in the reminants of the mutiny of this fish, stupidly wearing flip-flops! I just had to get out out there, but fascinating all the same. Outside lay sea lions and pelicans waiting for a morsel.

As I walked along the dockyard to get closer to the sea lions which were basking in the midday sun, I met a what could only be described as a very weathered woman donning a fishermans cap. Her eyebrows long and curly. Her face was tanned by the fearsome sun exposure. She was accompanied by three scally dogs- all hers. She was in a way tormenting the beasts when we met by placing all her weight on her front foot and leaning towards them. This encouraged them to retailiate by opening their jaws and bellowing forward. We chatted for a few minutes about her life in Arica and selling fish. As she left, all three dogs were in-toe, one jumped up at her from behind, but this didn´t phase her she was obviously used to it, she continued walking forward but holding on to its paws, looking at the floor as well as acknowledging a fellow friend in the distance. The dog once released, not in any discomfort jumped straight back up again, insisting that the game was not over!

La Paz

jenosn — Sat, 21 Jul 2007 03:17:00 GMT

20th July 2007

"La sede no se mueve"

More than a million voices are being heard today as hoards of `Paceños`(People of La Paz) are lining the street of the capital. This is no normal Friday where the centre is usually consumed by hundreds of buses and taxis.
The only commercial activity is in the central `Plaza de Murillo` where a single woman is selling icecream. People are marching in peaceful protest against the proposed move of governmental administration to Sucre.
El Diario, Bolivia´s national newspaper commented that: "All social and civil organisations, businesses and other sectors of the population are looking to ratify the permanency of government in La Paz." The newspaper also states that even "the private banks have agreed to close until Monday." This is not the first time that radical reforms by Bolivian`s elected President, Evo Morales (Bolivia`s first indigineous leader) has come up against strong opposition. La Paz is the economic centre where 2.7 Million people live. Many migrate to from the outer cities including; Oruro, Cochabamba and Potosi. La Prensa believe´s the right wing opposition and their reasoning behind the move is to improve "the conditions of families seeking employment." The move to Sucre will provide the indigineous population of the Quechua and Aymara people with plenty of work opportunities.

However, the proposed move will no doubt place financial burden on the national budget if the proposed move to Sucre went ahead. Evo`s main principle in his manifesto 18 months ago was to erradicate the poverty in Bolivia.

Bolivia`s national flag flies high today on top of lorries carrying passengers to the starting line of the protest in El Alto (a city rapidly expanding on the outskirts of La Paz). The protest to maintain the permanency of all executive and legislative decisions will commence at 1pm until late.

Jenna Bloomfield

La Guanita

jenosn — Sat, 14 Jul 2007 16:02:00 GMT

I was waiting hours in San Pedro but Jack and Gen had still not arrived. I was quite anxious that something may have happened but there was no way of finding out. Having left the bus station a third time I returned to the bar where Sarah and Fiona were eating. But before I had time to think that perhaps they are not arriving tonight my phone was ringing "Hi Jen were in the main square." "I will be two minutes." We stayed in San Pedro for a further two nights allowing them to recover from their 50 hour bus journey north! We visited some salt flats and spotted a few flamingoes. Then took a trip to Calama (the nearest largest town) in the hope of a connection that day to Bolivia or at least to the border. However, as it turned out on arrival in Calama all buses and trains do go to Uyuni in Bolivia but on the same days and at the same times wednesdays and Sundays...we had arrived on Monday!!!! Options were scarce no one was heading in that direction. Not sure what to do, we went to have some lunch. The menu of the day was three courses all for 1300 pesos (about 1.30p)The waitress recommmended a special dish called La Guanita, my translation was "a part of the cow." Jack decided to go for it but when it arrived it turned out to be cow´s stomach meshed in amongst mashed potato and vegetables...yuck! He said it was quite rubbery ha!ha! In the late afternoon we took a collectivo to a small village "Chui-Chui" about an hour from Calama in the hope that it would bring us closer to getting transport and therefore, closer to Bolivia. The collectivo passed the largest copper mine in the world and by the time we had arrived it was dark. The hotel was ´completo´ but this was simply due to the fact that the lady who owned the hotel was re-painting and she was in a boiler suit covered head-to-toe in paint. Having gone up and down the streets frantically looking for accommodation not hoping for anything special, I asked a man on the corner of the street and he took us to a ´residentiale´ which from the outside didn´t look like anything special but when the owner opened the door it was heavenly! Behind the doors in this dark street lay this gorgeous courtyard. There was a small kitchen lit up to the left with nets covering the window, and straight ahead were plenty of rooms. It was such a pleasant surprise to see clean, tradtional, yet modern rooms with decent beds and duvets! That evening we finally found somewhere to eat. Despite the fact that there were no lights the door was slightly open so we walked in to the restaurant "El Mauley" to find an elderly couple in the kitchen who prepared us a simple but satisfying meal. On the way back that night it was bitter cold but kids were playing football in the street and men talking on the street corners. We returned to a warmer and quite cosy environment. Jack suggested we have a few pisco sours so I went to look for glasses. I knocked on the door of the kitchen, a man appeared his name was Santiago, and he was the local bread man. He was busy kneading dough for the following day. This didn´t however stop him from joining us for a night cap. He seemed a lovely gentle character who used to work for a large bakery but had left to work locally in Chui-Chui. We told him that we were trying to get to Bolivia and his advice was to go back to Calama on Wednesday, there was no transport heading to the border from here! We discussed the Salt lakes between Chile and Bolivia and that we were going to visit them once we arrived in Bolivia. He told us a story about a family hiring a vehicle to visit the salt lakes two years ago and there was a flood. The two children stayed behind whilst the parents left to get help but both the children and the father died and the mother could not return to the site until a week later when the flooding was over.

I enjoyed the time I spent in Chui-Chui. we were the only visitors there. It was such a contrast to the time spent in San Pedro. It had its claim to fame as the oldest church in Chile as well as a lagoon that was on the visitors to do list. We walked for hours in the desert to find this lagoon but it couldn´t have been more of an anti-climax it was a small pool of water! We hitched the last part back to Chui-Chui on the back of a pick-up. It was incredible to look back at the mountains amidst the desert as the sun was setting.

'honey-pot' oasis

jenosn — Sun, 8 Jul 2007 07:10:00 GMT

This afternoon I was jotting a few points down about San Pedro over a freshly-squezed orange juice in the main plaza. A plaza which is quite unusual in the fact that normally its the hub of action be it drinking, eating or listening to live music. But here its quite the opposite. It`s a walkway and 'nada mas.' It does however connect the town to all the amenities. To the right of me there is a simply designed church with evening mass, daily. Directly in front of me lies a market place selling almost everything they can possibly make out of llama wool: jumpers, scarves, over-the-knee socks, hats and gloves...you name it and they will make it! All extremely colourful and indeed distinctive as well as extremely over-priced! To the left is the way out of the town where tour bus after tour bus collects and drops people off every single day. And, lastly to the south where most tourists migrate to the bars, restaurants and tour operators for a variety of trips.

Having been her four days I`m getting serious cabin-fever. I have come to the conclusion that San Pedro is a stop-over. There is nothing special in this oasis for me. For one, it's too accessible and exploitative. To have the facilities of broadband, television, and fax destroys this whole conception of travelling an entire day to be away from amenities such as these. I also, as a tourist feel more exploited than ever before.

Fiona and Sarah are leaving today to head to Arica and then on to Bolivia. They are two lovely girls that I had met in Santiago. After a 'special' night in Bellavista (the Bohemian neighbourhood of Santiago) I had decided to head to San Pedro de Atacama to accompany them. At which point little did I know Gen and Jack where going there next! The first evening in San Pedro we strolled out from the hostel along sandy streets meandering down towrds the plaza to have drinks. We sat in deep discussion with wine and tapas in the late afternoon. As the sun set the temperature fell dramatically (as it does in a desert!) Fiona so articulately commented that, "it`s like going from the bakery to the freezer section in Asda!" I wish them safe travels for their onward journey north.

San Pedro de Atacama- `El Corazon Del Desierto`

jenosn — Sat, 7 Jul 2007 03:00:00 GMT

24 Hours north of Santiago:

I had purchased the last ticket only hours before leaving Santiago and was luckily seated by the window as this was going to be the longest bus ride I have ever taken. Leaving in the afternoon provided me with a few hours of daylight so I was able to occupy myself by constantly staring out of the window. In a relatively short period of time the landscape had already transformed from urban city skyscrapers to the snow-peaked mountains of the Andes, filtering between the highs and lows of green valleys. There was the occasional horse and cart, and often a dog wandering vagrantly by the side of the road. There are many wild dogs in Chile, be it in the city or 'afuera' they all seem content, well fed, and extremely streetwise- like only crossing the road when a green man appears! Seeing so many of them drew me back to a film in my childhood called 'Benji'!!!

By nightfall I had sucked all the life out of my ipod, and having had received some phone calls, my phone also took a turn for the worse. It was Gen on the phone!! They were in Chiloe(quite a way south of Santiago) and pretty cold I should imagine.

'Hi Jenna, it`s Gen. Were heading to San Pedro next, so we`ll see you there!' Before we could say anymore I had lost reception-but thank god for facebook!

I was seated next to a Chilean girl on the journey north. She was called Magala. She seemed a generous and kind spirit. We shared most things throughout the journey like; salty crackers, empanadas and cola cao, as well as talking about our 'historias' and the reasons she was heading north, but more to the point, why(having only been in Santiago for one and a half days) was I?...Even I couldn't answer that one. perhaps it was my eagerness to discover the entire country all at once. Magala turned out to be the most attentive tour guide. Despite the fact that her platform of deliverance was from a seat next to me: from the inside of a hostel/bus. Yet, this never once affected her tremendous ability to demonstrate a spectacular knowledge of her country.

After speaking with Magala it occured to me that her passion and pride drew parallels with Giocconda Belli and her plight. This only goes to show that Chile, for Magala is clearly 'the country under her skin.'

Waking up the next morning, having had a miserable nights' sleep, I could see the sun rising up over what I thought to be the mountains, but it was in fact, sand. I had reached the desert. There was miles upon miles of plains juxtaposed by great mountains of sand.

The driver had not allocated any stops on this 24 hour journey! But, by the time we had reached the heavily industrialised town of Antofagasta I leaped out of the bus and paid $150 pesos (15p) to use the toilet inside the bus terminal. At which point the driver shouted for me to get back on the bus immediately 'or we're going without you!!!'

Antofagasta is Chile's second-largest city, but very much a working town, so little to be drawn towards apart from the amazing coastline! It was a hugely important town during the industrial era where nitrate and copper were heavily extracted.

Before we had reached Antofagasta Magala had pointed out this incredible sculpture on the desert plain. It was a hand rising out of the desert sand. From the back of the hand it looked like the shape of a cactus but, on looking closer, the nails and and lines had been finely carved out. Driving away from the figure you could clearly see the shapes created to represent the palm of the hand. It was in fact created by an Antofagastan sculptor, Mario Irrarrazanaval.

I had also noticed inscriptions which had been written in the sand at various points along the panamerican highway. Most likely those who are native to the country, or for those of us who are travellers providing some amusement along the way. I remember one inscripton in particular, it said 'el corazon del desierto' (the heart of the desert) at which point I realised I was travelling on my own, in the heart of one of the largest deserts in the world.