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.
