Buen
dia! It's 4:00 a.m., our wake up knock on the door caught us all off
guard, as we bumped around in the dark, attempting to pack up our bags,
and load our stuff on the roof of the truck. We speed off to Sol de
Mañana to catch a glimpse of the geysers at sunrise and to take a dip
in the aguas thermals. Our driver prides himself on getting us there
quickly and wants to be first... we were out earlier than anyone else
in our prison cell sleeping area, and there’s only a couple of cars at
the geysers when we arrive. I’m wearing every layer I brought with me,
including my long johns, fleece, down jacket, wool hat, gloves and
socks. How will I ever be able to strip down to my undies to go into
the aguas thermals when it's so cold out, and I'm so sealed up? I gaze
at the guy across from us from another group, he's puking blood out his
mouth and nose, suffering from the altitude, and I realize just being
cold wasn't so bad, tough it up! Looking back at our driver, head in
the truck engine again, butt hanging out of the front hood, it will be
awhile until we head out, so I make a race for the thermals, stripping
down with our other "team salt flat" members and slip into the 30
degree celsius natural thermal pools. After 4 days with no shower, we
are all thrilled to soak for a bit. Well worth the initial shock of
the frigid morning air, I am warmed internally, and any remnants of
hangover (or is that altitude sickness) quickly dissipate over warm
breakfast in the refugio. Our last round of colorful lakes (Laguna
Verde), flamingos, painted mountains and Salvador Dali-esque landscape
give way to the windy, cold, dusty, desolate road leading to the
Bolivia/Chile border crossing. The colors and landscape change every
few kilometers, and it keeps me snapping pictures out the window in
awe.
To
the left is Argentina, the right and ahead is Chile, and behind us, the
vast altiplano de Bolivia. We get out to process our passports at this
remote Bolivian immigration office. They make a joke about having just
entered Bolivia in time; we entered just two days prior to Bolivia
initiating a reciprocity tax of $100/per person, just as Chile has in
place, for American citizens. While we still think in Chile we will
only get hit with it if we fly into Santiago airport and process our
tourist card at that immigration office, we're still not quite sure and
wondering if we'll get hit as we leave Bolivia today, entering through
the San Pedro immigration office. I think that Bolivian immigration
collects their $100 reciprocity tax at all land crossings as well as
airport entrances, as the officer made such a big deal of it,
suggesting we use our saved $200 to give our guide a nice "propina"
(tip). I told him in Spanish that we had already used it up, spending
it on fine Bolivian products, and the money will remain in Bolivia.
We
exchange many handshakes with our driver Domingo, hugs and kisses with
our Dutch friends that we're really going to miss. It's hard to find
people you're compatible to travel with, and to travel in such a
'rough' way. Valerie and Bas have been tremendous travel mates, and we
look forward to meeting them again someplace in the world for more
traveling adventure.
We
catch a shuttle bus into Chile, and as we cross about a kilometer into
Chile, there's actually a road - it's the first real road we've seen in
over 4 days, and our internal organs are now loving us! We plunge
nearly 2,000m into the high desert of Chile, the air becomes hot, dry
and super windy, like a really strong Santa Ana day in San Diego.
Here, though, there's no risk of fires, as there's absolutely nothing
around to burn... just a lot of rocks, dirt, and tiny "crucifix"
memorials along the roadside where people have died in roadside
crashes.
Chilean
immigration and customs are very particular about what we can bring in
and not bring into the country. Similar to Australia (especially
Western Australia), there are big fines for any veggies, meat or dairy
products. It's kept their agriculture industry pure and for that we're
thankful, although that also means we have one hour on the bus to eat
and drink all our fruit and snacks products before we arrive in San
Pedro. The driver jokingly tells everyone to also immediately consume
all their drugs as well. We arrive all dusty at the border, and get
our passports stamped... whew, we're through, without having been asked
to pay $100 reciprocity fee. We smile, exchange pleasantries in
Spanish with the immigrations officials and are moved along into the
next room, the customs search of our bags. Despite the guide books
saying that you should not make jokes with the customs guys at the
border crossing, these guys are in rare form today, cracking jokes
about whether anyone has cocaine in their bags. The officer assigned
to me goes through my pack and compliments me on how neat, clean and
organized it is... of course, Darrin should get all the credit for
turning me onto his way of packing; an organized pack full of Eagle
Creek pouch packs which we use to compartmentalize all of our worldly
belongings into neat bundles. The system is quite handy for our daily
need to access important items, and is the only way we survive moving
so many times in one week, and not losing anything. My customs guy is
so impressed he points it out to his buddy, who has a good chuckle (or
probably just plain making fun of me), and then they even let me take
through my bag of cornflakes and juice that I had forgotten Darrin
stashing in my pack cover. We're cleared and now free to play in Chile!
