Burning Men in the Wild West of Atacama
December 30-January 1, San Pedro de Atacama, Chile
Quick!! What's the surest and most immediate sign that you've crossed the border from Bolivia into Chile??
Asphalt!
My eyes could scarcely believe how quickly the road conditions changed for the better once past the Bolivian border. My bum got all tingly and appreciative at the prospect of less bouncing. In fact, if my derriere had the capacity to speak and then exchanged words with the paved Chilean road, it would have purred, "Where have you been all my life?!" It was seriously that smooth. Another sign, albeit not as immediate due to the San Pedro de Atacama border crossing being in the middle of a desert, was the decidedly less marked presence of litter strewn about the ground. Me and Al Gore likey!
Wish I could say that I really enjoyed the town of San Pedro, but...ehhh. I found it somewhat underwhelming after the amazingly beautiful Salar de Uyuni. Furthermore, San Pedro came as a bit of a shock to the
one-story buildings, tumbleweed, but no bordellos. I fully expected to see Wild Bill Hickcock come galloping down the road with Calamity Jane two paces behind him! But no, nary a cowboy or horse did I spy. Instead, there was the ubiquitous presence, as per usual in South America, of stray dogs strolling along or plopped down in whatever shady niche they could find. Ruff!
I arrived on December 30 and stayed until the early evening of January 1. The first night I stayed in a dorm at the Hostal Corvasche (8000 pesos=$16), a place I do not recommend for it offers little to no security for your possessions. The second night I managed to find another
acceptable hostel only a few blocks away for 7000 pesos.
San Pedro de Atacama has a number of tours one can do if so inclined, and I chose to do 2 different ones. On my first day I booked a tour of the Valle de la Luna (Valley of the Moon). It was quite an impressive and varied landscape actually and well worth the time/money. It strongly reminded me of a number of places I've been including Zion National Park in Utah, the
Badlands of South Dakota, and the sand dunes of the United Arab Emirates. On the second day, New Year's Eve, I opted to book a tour of the Laguna Cejar which is virtually the Dead Sea, South American style. The salty lake was fairly cool I suppose but a bit unremarkable following the TRES MAGNIFIQUE Salar de Uyuni in Bolivia. But I still ended up thoroughly
enjoying myself due to the company I was keeping. My fellow tour members, particularly Blanca, a Chilean woman from Concepcion who was there on holiday with her boyfriend Arturo (or Alberto?), made it all ever so memorable. I strongly felt that Blanca was a bit of a kindred spirit so when she invited me to join up with them after dinner to toast in the New Year, I leaped at the chance to hang out some more.
But first I had to return to my hostel to freshen up and this is where my tale turns a tad tawdry. You see when I'd left my dorm room at 4 pm, I was the sole resident of the room, but unfortunately this was no longer the case upon my return at 9:00. Three "gentlemen" had taken up residence there -2 Chilenos and 1 Uruguayan. And boy oh boy were they working their way tothe bottom of the bottle, having long ago forsaken sobriety. But hey! It was New Year's Eve which is an open invitation to drink for most. PLUS they were my bunkmates so I deigned to be polite and friendly. To this end, I brought out the bottle of red wine I'd purchased earlier that day and shared it with them. One of the three men, a miner with a recently dearly-
departed mamma with whom he'd been too close, was by far the drunkest and began referring to me as his "reina" (queen). He even repeatedly got down on his knees before me as if to pledge his fealty to my realm and then bestowed upon me a token of his undying devotion - the shell necklace he'd been wearing around his neck. Mind you, I did nothing to encourage this behavior, I swear!! But then by simply allowing behavior to continue, this can be construed as granting permission. Sigh. Once he'd given me HIS necklace (which I didn't even
particularly like!), I knew that tradition dictated that I make a similar gesture, so I offered him the rather feminine mother-of-pearl shell necklace I was wearing (which was the ONLY piece of jewelry I'd chosen to bring on this trip!). He practically swooned (or perhaps he was just swaying due to the alcohol?) when I put it around his neck whereas I nearly gagged. Now, somewhere hundred of meters beneath the earth's surface, my lovely necklace has probably been tossed down some mine shaft or worse, been placed around the neck of a statue of the devil much like I saw in the mines of Potosi!
At 11:30 pm, I hastened to San Pedro's main square to join up with Blanca and her beau for champagne. I found them easily and a waiter promptly brought us 3 champagne flutes. There were throngs of party revelers gathered there, particularly a fair number of Brazilians. Their
nationality was made apparent as soon as they began an enthusiastic refrain of, "Vive Brazil!!" The countdown came and went splendidly with exuberant cheering and dancing and POP! POP! POPPING! from firecrackers which had been placed inside effigies that were lit on fire at the stroke of midnight. These "burning men" were the highlight of the midnight hour as people circled round them in a conga line that would have
made Gloria Estefan proud. When some young yahoos of the male persuasion started jumping over the burning men, I couldn't resist and followed suit. Yes folks! I jumped over a burning man full of fire crackers!
After that, we three amigos wandered along the crowded streets in search of just the right place to boogie our asses off. In time, we found that place and proceeded to move, groove and amply sweat those first few hours of 2012 away. It was a beautifully bodacious beginning to the year so muchas gracias, Blanca, for allowing me to share those moments with you and...Alberto? Arturo? Alejandro? Aww...screw it.
New Year's Day was all about me avoiding Mr. Amorous Miner who was still drunk and disorderly when I awoke the next morning at 9:30. Due to my night bus not leaving for Santiago until 7:30 pm, I ended up "homeless" all day as I desperately wanted to keep my distance from the bum. Guess you could say that day became...
Wait for it...
ESCAPE TO
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