Atacama Desert and How I Floated Like Jesus

Blasphemy, you say? Most likely.

Last weekend our group headed north to the Atacama desert, both the driest and oldest desert on the planet. The humidity level in Atacama is around 5%, which is a far cry from what we're used to in Minnesota, where humidity rarely drops below 50% in our driest months. The aridity was felt right away because when you breathe it feels like your breathing in sand and the air seems to cut your throat on its way into your lungs, a metaphor that is barely even that, since after just one night some of us were coughing up blood in the morning.

Part of the desert oasis where we stayed, San Pedro

Our second day, after stopping for a break after biking for an hour in the desert, I realized I had never been to a desert before. The wilderness I'm used to includes lively lakes, rivers, and forests, and although the profound silence we felt whenever we stopped for a water break could have been meditative, I found it be practically unnerving.

Later that day we hiked Valle de la Muerte, a huge valley crowded with sharp rocky outcroppings and cliff edges. Hard on the knees, you ask? Yes, ma'am! But I'm still alive, so there's that. We also ran/rolled/fell/floated down the valley's hot sand dunes before catching our ride to the Valle de la Luna to watch the sunset.

Valle de la Muerte

Geysers in the sunrise

The next morning we were up before the sun even had the chance to hit the snooze button a few times, and at 5:30 we were on our way to the geyser field. Nestled between low mountains at over fourteen thousand feet above sea level, these geysers are more impressive for their quantity rather than quality and are more like bubbling rivulets or the occasional boiling water stream shot out of a rock than the Old Faithful we were expecting. What was impressive was the steam emanating form the ground all around us. But it was so cold since we had arrived so early in the morning and were so high in elevation that some (myself included) were getting headaches and other early symptoms of altitude sickness as we ascended. It's probably why Frodo and Sam had such a difficult time getting to the top of Mount Doom.

More geyser action

Our day got warmer when we found some hot springs to soak in. I say found not because it was an accident, but because I have no idea how one can find their way through the desert in a vehicle. Sure the sand and rocks might be packed harder on the main roadway, but there are infinite offshoots and paths leading to different sites. It was a navigational nightmare, and I was glad I could just zone out on the sand and rocks.

Later that day we had the option to go on an additional afternoon excursion, which I almost didn't go on because it had an additional cost and my head was still pounding from the morning sickness (the altitude kind, not the pregnant kind). But I'm glad I was able to throw frugality to the winds. Our smaller afternoon group visited three lakes within the desert. Lakes? In a desert? Exactly what we thought. But they're for real, and salty. Our first stop was this first lake pictured below, with a salt content so high we were easily floating without moving at all, a weird but welcome experience.

Lake #1: floating like Jesus

Next up was this lake that apparently is more like a filled crater, being that its depth reaches 300 feet. What's interesting about this one is that the surrounding landscape is composed of more clay than sand, and the compactness of the clay helps to sieve out a lot of the salt. So while it's not necessarily a fresh water lake and you can still taste the salt, it was still better than a mouthful of ocean water.

Lake #2: Clay crater

The third lake we visited might have been the most interesting. It was easily half a kilometer across, but never more than 6 inches deep. The reason it looks so white is because there was no sand under the water, it was all salt. You could scoop up handfuls of salt in your hand: yum. Or you could simply dip your hand in the saturated water and watch it turn white as the water evaporates in seconds.

Our afternoon crew on ubersalty Lake #3

All in all, a pretty amazing day full of things I had never experienced. The desert was exhausting, and I have no wishes to live near one. But I was glad I visited. Standing in a desert and gaping at the enormity of it as you look around you is something everyone should have to do as it reminds us of how insignificant we are in comparison to the rest of the world. My friend Craig had some incredible photos on his camera. But as his memory card decided to go kaput, I guess a lot of those memories were meant to be just that.

Pololos and Pololas

Yesterday we went to a Chile version of Oktoberfest, which consisted of dozens of beer vendors set up in what appeared to be an abandoned old train station complex. Complete with games, food, and live music, you could buy a beer or two and/or simply enjoy a small sample from every vendor, which is what this guy did. But this post isn't about Valpobier. It's about what I've learned about relationships between Chileans and an assuredly feeble attempt to connect that to my own host family.

Let's start out with the dating practices here in Chile. For the rest of the Spanish-speaking world, the words novio and novia mean boyfriend or girlfriend. But, in Chile, these words imply that you are engaged to be married while the words pololo or polola are used to reference boy or girlfriend status. Now, I don't pretend to be an expert on Chilean dating customs (or our own, for that matter. Just ask Addie) but to the two month trained eye, there seems to be less exclusivity in the average Chilean couple. Or rather, many relationships seem to be more along the fling side of things. To put it yet another way, when my host mom, Sandra, found out I already had a girlfriend, she said something along the lines of, "So? Just because the waiter just brought chocolate cake doesn't mean you can't order one with lime as well."

This shocked me as, at the time, Sandra had barely finished explaining to me that she divorced my host brother's father (thirteen years her senior) the year before because he had left her for the girl he was cheating on her with. This seems to happen far more frequently here in Chile, as the people I've met who are still on their first marriage are few. Granted, I realize I was privileged to be raised in private Catholic schools my whole life where you're probably not going to find as many single parents. But, all religion aside and despite my lack of knowledge or experience on the subject, I can't help but draw a connection between Chilean courting early on, or pololeando, as a precursor to a potentially unhealthy marriage.

Their divorce naturally brought my host brother, Elias, and Sandra much closer. But, I don't get to see a lot of the evidence of the strength of their relationship because at fourteen going on fifteen he's at the height of proving to the world that he's a man, and mere grunts or nods of approval make up the majority of his interactions. I'm sure there's also the fact that without a man in the house, he feels pressured into taking that role earlier than usual, but I'm not going to pretend to be an expert on him or these sorts of issues either.

What did surprise me was that when I got home last night, during the naturally appropriate hours of the morning, I noticed on my way to the bathroom that Elias and Sandra were huddled together in her bed, having fallen asleep to another late night movie. This wouldn't normally be that uncommon except for the aforementioned frequent distantness Elias tends to emit. That, and most of his time in the house is spent playing videogames with his door closed. In the morning, I found out why. Sadly, a fellow student of my host brother killed himself the other day, jumping from the twelfth floor of the apartment he lived in. And while he didn't know this particular student very well, one of Elias' close friends was friends with him, and my host brother is worried about his close friend because he knows he suffers from depression, too. It's not known exactly why the student jumped, but it's speculated that there were problems between the parents like shouting, fighting and other domestic issues.

Divorce was just made legal in 2004 in Chile, previously the only country in the western hemisphere without a legal divorce process. My host mother admits and laments that widespread divorce is hard on the children, as it is anywhere in the world, to be sure. But, after a tragedy like the one involving his classmate, I was struck by the fact that my host brother immediately became concerned for his friend. Not only do I feel it's a testament to how Sandra has raised him in arguably his most formative years, but their constant support for one another in troubling times is something I know I will never forget.

Shall we meet Halfway?

This week will mark the median of my life in Chile. Few things of note have happened since the holidays here besides our pottery attempt last week in Pomaire. Also, the weather is finally nicer here than it is back home. That only took two months. So, I'll need to squeeze this post in before I scoot off to the beach!

As I'm on the downhill in terms of my time here, I thought I'd take a minute to think about all the random things I miss that I can't get here in Chile. Obviously, I miss my family, girlfriend, dog, friends, and Collegeville in general really. But these are things I miss besides the obvious:

Job/income- I'm not dying for forty hours a week here. I just miss working a couple hours a day so that I'm not going into more of a financial hole than I already am. The occasional drink(s) at a bar or the compliance with "hey, let's check out that restaurant!" really add up. That doesn't even include the trips we make and the activities we do. All of my expenses have been absolutely worth it, I just wish there were more pesos making their way into my wallet instead of into others'.

Minnesota Nice- This isn't to say that Chileans are mean. In fact, I have heard of no assaults, gunshots or any violence aside from the occasional drunken disagreement, and you will often see teens giving up their seat on the bus for the elderly, for example. But I'm from an area where you smile, nod or greet someone (or some combination of the three) when you pass them on the street, whether you know them or not. Instead of these, you get averted glances, women tightening their grip on their purses, and parents toting their children closer. I thought I was just an innocent gringo, I didn't know I gave off the "I'm going to rob you or worse" vibe.

Milk- It's very different here. Apparently, because many might not have a refrigerator, the milk here is pasteurized at much higher temperatures than in the US and, without needing to be refrigerated, has a strangely long shelf life inside an insulated box. The extreme pasteurization makes most kinds thinner and gives them an almost condensed-milk taste that they cover with flavoring like strawberry, banana, and vanilla.

Free public bathrooms- Not that they break the bank or anything. But ranging from anywhere between 200-500 pesos (so .40-$1) means you have a lot of guys that simply drop trou and find a bush or, more commonly, a wall. All aesthetics aside, what this does is just make it really inconvenient for women, as the wait in their lines can easily exceed half an hour on busy days at the beach or at gas stations in traffic on the highway.

Green- my favorite color, and there's not nearly enough of it here. Sometimes, one just needs to take a nap in a meadow or go for a walk in the woods. And while this might have been possible two weeks ago in Chiloé, the only green areas in Viña are either private or covered in dog crap, but usually both.

Gary's Pizza. Enough said.