Month: August 2007

Valle Elqui (updated)

Kruse Leave a comment

Managed to follow through with plan, walking to the bus station on 06 Aug, and catching a bus to Elqui Valley.  Originally planned to go to the town of Vicuna, and use that as a base – but lady at bus station convinced me to go further up the valley to tiny village of Pisco Elqui.  Seeing as it is named after the main attraction (Pisco), I figured I’d take the advice.  So – got to Pisco Elqui, had some lunch and a couple of introductory cervezas, then found some accommodation.  Nice germans running the hostel reminded me it is Monday.  Tourism doesn’t go on Monday.  So – pisco distillery closed.  And that’s all there is in town.  Town is one block wide, two blocks long.  But, they suggest a nice walk up the hill, along the hill, and down the hill.  Arriving in an organic wine & maybe pisco place.  Which should be open on Monday.  So, I do this.  I walk up the hill.  Very steep hill.  I walk along the hill, and then down the hill.  Long gentle way down.  And not really sure what to do with the instructions “turn left when you see a line of trees”.  There are lines of trees everywhere in the valley, and none on the hill.  One big line of trees along the border of hill/valley – but this very same line of trees prevents me from turning left.  So – I Stay The Course.  Eventually come on to a track wide enough for vehicles, and continue to Stay The Course until I come across proper road.  Sweet.  Then, continue along the road, looking for this booze place.  Find it, and it’s closed.  Dumb.  Long walk along road back to the village, where I find a cafe to serve me fush&chups and multiple pisco sours.  I keep ordering pisco sours until the nice man brings me the bill, and asks if I’m drunk yet.  Of course not.  But, I take the hint, and leave.  And the fresh air suddenly activates the pisco sours.  Back to hostel, and quickly order a bottle of red wine.  To cancel out the pisco, I assume my reasoning was.  Not entirely sure.  Start to struggle after one glass – but find my second wind, and finish that bottle off before weaving my way over the flat ground to my room.

07 Aug – remember yet again that I’ve promised myself to not mix drinks.  Yesterday’s combo of cerveza, pisco, and red wine is an excellent reminder.  Free breakfast though – sweet.  Then, pay for my room, and head to the pisco distillery.  A little bit early, so find an internet cafe instead.  Waste time.  Then – back to pisco distillery.  Arrive just in time for a tour.  Given a written english translation of what the tour guide is going to say.  Pretty sure she doesn’t actually say what is on the paper, and indeed the tour itself seems significantly different.  But – see what you’d expect.  Antique equipment.  Room where the original chap used to drink pisco with his buddies and talk to the dead.  Stills.  Tasting of a couple of their piscos.  Video describing the process of creating pisco – narrated from the point of view of the grapes.  Apparently it is quite pleasant being boiled.  Then – to the salesroom with a bit of a pitch about the various bottles for sale.

I don’t quite understand most of the pitch – but suspect that with the “artesanal” bottles, one has to write their name in the book to record who bought it.  And it’s twice the price – so I figure that’s the one for me.  Leaving just enough cash to hopefully get to a town with an ATM.  Turns out, before I get to sign my name, I have to actually pour the bottle myself out of the barrel.  Then – write details (my name, the date, bottle number, barrel number, etc) in the book, and on the label – and label the bottle myself.  So – I paid twice as much for this bottle of pisco, and I had to do all the bloody work myself.  It’d better be good.  Then, we’re given a free pisco sour as well.  So that’s nice.

Outside, and wait for the bus.  Wait for a while, and eventually one arrives.  Make a decision to go to Vicuna – the town I originally planned to visit.  They have a pisco distillery too.  A big one.  So – catch the bus there, and hope that there’s an ATM.  Off the bus, and spot an ATM hidden inside a pharmacy.  Sweet.  Loaded up with cash again – stop at the first restaurant/bar.  Cerveza, a rather good steak by chilean standards, and more cerveza.  And a movie about a policeman and his dog.  Very smart dog, likes to play the electronic version of “Simon”.  Then – onwards to find a place to stay.  First hotel – very expensive, but she reads my face, and suggests “more economical” places.  So, find another place where the chap asks what I’d like to pay.  And we agree on that.  Sweet.  Rather good deal, as I gave my price without expecting private bathroom or breakfast – but get both.  Drop stuff off – and go to find this pisco distillery.  Biggest in the valley.  Find it – and yep, rather large.  Told to wait for a tour.  Girl finishes previous tour – and then takes me.  One guide for only me.  First stop – a video.  With option of english or spanish.  Sweet.  This time, a more clinical description of the pisco creation process.  Missing the personal touch of “a grape’s eye view”, but makes up for that with many many references to “pure translucent water” and “golden sunshine” and “this country with so much to give” and so on and so on.  Then – a quick tour through small displays of antique equipment, old bottle labels, etc.  Rather rushed – which was fair enough.  Only one tourist, and at the end of the day – the nice lady wanted it over and done with as quick as possible.  Then, some tasting.  This time – mostly their range of premixed drinks.  Papaya sour, mango sour, and a coffee-milky type one.  Then, of course, the salesroom.  I have a real problem with buying stuff after free tastings.  Pisco distilleries turn out to be just as bad as wineries.  So – buy some more.  Despite my pack being noticably heavier (and more difficult to close) after the bottle bought in Pisco Elqui.  However, they did have a bottle of pisco in the shape of a moai.  So that was a definite.  And she seemed to expect me to buy something else, so I got a bottle of the premixed papaya sour.  Figured I could drink that straight – tonight or on buses – and get rid of it fairly quickly.

Back to town, drop off my booze haul, and then wander around looking for a restaurant.  Finally get hungry and cold enough to choose one – and order myself a portion of kid.  I found the translation for the spanish word into “kid” in the food section of my phrasebook – so am guessing it’s the literal “baby goat” meaning.  Still – I’m happy enough.  Turns out to be a rather generous ‘portion’ – but nothing I can’t handle with the aid of several pisco sours.  Back to the hostel, and try to put a dent in the papaya sour while watching bad TV.  Succeed.

Also figure out my calculation of days left until Pen’s arrival have been rather optimistic – and I have an extra day to kill.  Was going to skip Valparaiso after an unflattering review from the french woman I met so long ago in San Rafael.  However, have since read that there are a couple of neighbourhoods which happen to be an UNESCO World Heritage site.  And the city has very old, rather cool looking, “ascensors” – which are kind of like the miniature trams that some Wellington houses have.  Main drawcard, however, is the UNESCO thing.  Once that kiwi chap who came up with the idea of publishing a book with photos of all of them actually finishes – I’m thinking I’ll buy the book just so I can tick off all the one’s I’ve seen.  There seems to be rather a lot of them around these parts.

UPDATE:  08 Aug – I don’t quite make it to Valparaiso.  Plan was good.  Got up, enjoyed another free breakfast.  Juice this time – lovely sweet juice.  Checked out, got to the bus station on time.  Sign says bus to Valparaiso at 11:45.  Sweet, buy ticket.  Ticket says 13:05.  Oh well, I can deal with that.  So, leave my pack and go for a walk.  A few hours to kill.  Museum – dedicated to the local poet.  Gabriel Mistral.  Nobel Prize, etc, etc.  Entire museum just for her.  And she’s not that interesting.  Plaster molds of her hands though.  Then, more time to waste.  Internet.  And then bus station, regretting not having taken time to eat.  Wait, and wait.  My bus company’s office is closed.  Odd, I think, with a bus due.  And my bag inside.  Nearly 2pm, the man comes back.  Deals with some business, then chats to me.  Asks to look at my ticket.  Points out that he had stamped it with “11:45″ (stamp was blurry, in my defence), and that the 13:05 time is for the departure from La Serena.  D’oh.  But, he then kindly offers to swap it for one that night.  I ask for a ticket straight to Santiago instead, having just wasted a day – and needing to be in Santiago the day before Pen arrives.  He gives me a ticket to Santiago, and doesn’t charge me anything more.  Nice man.  And now, I have much more time to kill.

Find a restaurant, and eat.  And drink.  Then, ponder what to do next.  Stay The Course, I decide.  So, some more cerveza.  After not long, I’m invited to join the table where the barman, bargirl, and a customer are sitting.  I make many friends with an early comment that “cerveza is the language of the world” when discussing language difficulties.  Customer turns out to be on a bender.  Works 10 days on, 10 days off.  Not sure if this is his first or last day off, but either way – he’s making the most of it.  Repeats himself a lot – especially about coming to NZ and us drinking cerveza together.  Or England.  Bar staff reckon he’s fairly rich.  Write down how much he earns a month, possibly with exaggeration.  Not sure if they got it right, or if my mathematics were right, but I figure it to be about half the average NZ wage.  Glad the conversation didn’t turn to asking my income.  Much conversation, then the drunkard finally leaves.  I stay.  (No sniggers, please)  Chat with the bargirl, who cooks me a sandwich for free, and then with another guy who comes in.  There are a few spots of rain – which triggers enough excitement to run outside and touch the spots on the ground to confirm.  Doesn’t rain much here.  Eventually I go to the bus station, and wait in the mucho cold for my bus to leave.  Fall asleep as soon as I sit down.

La Serena

Kruse Leave a comment

Well, Ben & Nathan will both be pleased with this update.  As I’ve done practically nothing, Ben will be happy with the boringness.  And as I think I got asked to leave a pub so that I could be beaten up – Nathan will be happy with “playing something we all know.”

So – left San Pedro.  Fairly lengthy bus ride to La Serena – arriving the morning of 04 Aug.  Off bus, and a few touts pushing their hostels.  Tell one lady to wait until I get my bag.  She follows, still jabbering away, and eventually gives me her card.  I start walking – hopefully towards town.  Turns out yes.  Try to find cheapest hostel in guide book – closed or shut down.  Go to hostel of the lady tout.  Sweet – big double bed, very comfy, huge room, television, stereo, a populated bookshelf, and french doors onto courtyard.  Also – free internet, decent hot shower, and tour info.  Go for a walk, find a cafe with tables on street.  Eat lunch, drink cerveza, listen to a jazz band set up on the street nearby.  All good.  Find the museum – closed.  Walk towards shore, with a cerveza break halfway.  Actually toilet break – but figure I should buy something at the restaurant to be polite.  Watch the guy with the job of guiding cars in and out of carparks.  Amusing and frustrating to watch.  Seeing as this guy is forced to do this as a living, for tips – I’m guessing he’s never had the money to own a car.  And probably has never actually driven a car before in his life.  And it’s fairly obvious.

Get to the beach.  No swimming allowed.  A fake castle – which is listed as a tourist attraction on my map.  Doesn’t bode well for the rest of them.  Back to town, and find my first “local’s bar” in quite some time.  Small, with old men drinking nothing but cerveza.  All good.  One chap speaks fairly good english, and we chat for a while.  Watch what I originally think is one old man pretending to give his friend a big kiss.  Later, realise that he was actually biting his cheek – leaving two decent cuts.  Talking to another old man, hear that the two are workmates, have been for 15 years – and that there is going to be some biffo tomorrow.  This old man himself is talking about how he’s going to fight the biter.  My english-speaking friend eventually leaves, leaving me to drink alone – fitting in with the others doing the same.  A fairly young guy comes in, and asks me which state I’m from.  I tell him I’m not american.  Dodgy looking chap, we talk for a while.  Then – I think he tells me to leave.  Or asks me to go outside?  Maybe so he and friends can fight the gringo?  Maybe he was just inviting me to another bar – not entirely sure.  Either way – I decline the offer.  He leaves, and I force myself into another cerveza – to delay leaving.  Eventually leave, get back to hostel – realise I’m a little too ‘tipsy’ to go out for dinner, or to book the tour of the nearby valley I wanted.  Luckily, discover pro-wrestling on the television instead.  Then – a fair bit of time on the free internet, hearing about Ben’s criminal family stealing kaimoana.

05 Aug – get up and go to book my tour with the nice blonde girl at the tour agency.  But it’s closed.  Realise it’s Sunday – and very little is open.  Go to the handicraft market, which has heaps of restaurants specialising in seafood on the 2nd floor.  Breakfast – isn’t seafood.  Then – back to the museum, which is open – and free entry on Sundays.  Sweet.  Same stuff as other museums.  More pre-Columbian pottery/art – again very very reminiscent of Maori equivalent.  And then – the prize of the museum – a moai.  Big bloody rock head.  Pretty cool.  Ben & Pen – we can cancel the trip to Rapanui now as well.  Seen a moai.

Then – to some markets.  Rather similar to Hong Kong – right down to a Pirates of the Caribbean costume set with awful awful english translation, and probably unauthorised use of the cast members on the packaging.  Back to the restaurants over the other market – and this time get myself some kaimoana.  Stuff I didn’t recognise – and eating it all raw (except for marinating) was probably not the best way to introduce myself to new types of shellfish.  But, manage to finish it off, with the aid of a few pisco sours.

Back to hostel.  On the way, a guy stopped me on the street, and gave me money.  Took me aback a little, as I was preparing to say “no” for when he would ask me for money.  He turned the tables.  Odd – possibly a guy I gave a cigarette to last night?  (Yes family, am smoking at the moment – as it aids in befriending the locals.  Almost certain to stop when Pen arrives though.)  Free internet for a while – managed to upload a few more photos.  Playing kiwi music through the stereo – pretty sweet.  Then, find a cafe which is open – and have some dinner & cerveza.  Go back to the “local’s bar” on the way back to hostel – to check on status of yesterdays biting incident – but it’s closed.  Back to hostel, and decide to skip the organised tour (been doing too many of those recently – a sign of my travel weariness?) – and to instead catch a bus tomorrow morning straight to the valley myself, and do it independently.

And that was La Serena.  Managed to write a fair bit about having done absolutely nothing.  Was going to fill it in with a rant, but no need to, I guess.  I have an excellent rant about snakes brewing in my head.  I bloody hate snakes.

San Pedro de Atacama

Kruse Leave a comment

30 July, got up, walked to bus station, bought bus ticket, and waited for bus. Easy. A little bit of internet to pass the time, and then watching guy and girl – trying to figure out if they were father and affectionate daughter, or pervert and gullible young girl. Finally figured out it was the latter. Also present was the young girl’s mother, who didn’t seem to be too disturbed by the situation. Finally got on bus, along with pervert. Not sure if I was pleased about this or not. Good as it does mean the young girl gets some solo time, hopefully to get healthy attraction to some guy at her school. Bad, as I have to sit on the same bus as a pervert. Go through all the customs stuff. Chile has similar rules to NZ regarding fruit, vegetables, animal products, etc. Very big on their bio-security, which I find odd in a country with so many (and large) land borders. Still, plenty of ways to get past it if you so wish, which made me slightly regret drinking back my remaining coca liqor on the bus, straight. Some good landscape on the way.

Anyway, got to Arica in the nighttime. Argentinian girl asks if I know of any hostels. Nope, but we listen to a couple of touts. She says that she is going to “stick close to me”. I’d seen her rather affectionate farewell of boyfriend in La Paz, and was hoping that she hadn’t forgotten him already. We go outside to catch a”micro” to the centre. (A micro is a van used as a bus, pretty much.) Then, I notice a rather large sign across the road claiming to advertise a “hostal”. Seeing as Argy is going to airport tomorrow, and I’m thinking of just getting on another bus to somewhere – we check that out. Turns out to be very cheap (for Chile, still much more than Bolivia) – so we take that. I ask Argy if the guy realises we’re not ‘together’. She confirms, sweet. We get one room, but with two single beds. Then – take a romantic walk around the corner to find some internet for Argy to confirm she’s flying out tomorrow, and then dinner at a cheap family chicken place. No booze. Luckily I had consumed that coca liqor, or today would have been the first ‘dry’ day in memory.

31 July – Argy leaves, then I get up, and head over to bus station. Don’t know what to do, and the hangover of a sober night has made my mind all confused. Decide to head to the bus station restaurant, and have a cerveza to get the mind working again. Soon figure that I’m very hungry, and that the barman’s claim of this brand of beer being very strong is true. So, order some food and cerveza. Then, decide I’m heading to San Pedro. Recommended by the french woman in San Rafael, many months ago. Also, guide book claims that their museum has an excellent mummy in it, nicknamed Miss Chile. And is a very small village, no ATMs or banks, etc. Apparently, many buses from Calama to San Pedro. So, I find a bus to Calama. Sweet – no more need for thinking. So, find some internet, upload some photos, and generally wait. Back to bus station, and to the restaurant/bar. More food, and cerveza. Then – have to put backpack through ‘customs’. Guy doesn’t really search my bag, just asks if I have only clothes, or some souvenirs. I say sure, some souvenirs – show him one example, and he gives me the OK stamp. Then, they take my bag. Not sure if I am in the right place at the right time, so nervously hang around to see what bus my bag is put onto. See it put onto a big orange bus. Sweet. Then, a little while, big orange bus disappears. Dumb. Reappears soon – just wanted to change parks, to a park two spots over. Finally get on bus, next to nice man. Nice man goes and gets a pillow and blanket, and the same for me too. Nice, isn’t he? Then, he goes to sleep. And soon after, sticks his elbow in my face. Not so nice. I struggle to find a way of sleeping while avoiding his elbow.

Woken up very early in the morning of 01 Aug, for a customs checkpoint. Everybody gets of bus, lines up alongside a bench. Very very cold. Stand around, then we get back on bus, with nobody ever checking anything. Back for a little more sleep, avoiding the man for whom one seat is not enough. Arrive in Calama. Not sure if Calama has a bus station. If so, we certainly weren’t dropped off there. Instead, at 6am, we’re deposited outside a shopping mall. Very cold, and very absent of ideas. This time, with no restaurant or bar to do my thinking in, I opt for standing still, and doing nothing. So, the other passengers dissipate, eventually leaving myself, one man, and one girl standing there. Eventually the girl decides to take the offer of one of the taxis. Leaving me and one man. One and a half hours of standing there, doing nothing, and not even really considering my options. As I couldn’t think of many options. Just standing on the side of the road. The sun eventually started to come up, and I was just about to go and get some more money from an ATM, and stand in the sunshine while I did some proper thinking. But, then a taxi pulled over – and instead of just offering me a ride, asked me where I was going. I say that I think I want to go to San Pedro, but don’t know where to get a bus. So he tells me, and offers me a ride. Sweet – no need for thinking. Waiting for circumstances to make my decisions for me has again triumphed. Taxi takes me to one bus company which goes to San Pedro. I pay him the fare which is advertised on his window, and which I’d confirmed before getting in. He looks disgusted. Expected tip, I guess – and rightly so. But – no more change, so I pretend not to notice. Bus company is closed, but with lady sitting on chair outside – and people sitting in a bus which is open. Lady tells me the bus goes to San Pedro at 8:30, and the office opens at 8 for me to buy a ticket. So, I wait. Others arrive, get the same info. Lady starts chatting to me a little bit, wants me to sit in the bus as outside is cold. I tell her I’m fine. Office eventually opens, and lady makes sure I go in, and buy ticket – even pushing into line for me. As I was here first, I gather. Then she makes sure I take my backpack to the bus, and that I get on it. I don’t disappoint her. Bus, however, can’t leave. Roadworkers have deposited a heap of shingle on the road, making it impossible for the bus to turn out of it’s driveway. After a while the heap is moved, and we head off.

Fairly short trip to San Pedro – where we’re dropped off in a dusty ’street’. I walk around, finding nothing but dusty ground and dirt walls. Eventually find a hostel – which is full. The girl tells me which direction the centre of ‘town’ is though. Am not expecting much. Heading that way, I find another hostel – with a spare reasonably priced room. Sweet. Then, continue my walk. Find the centre of town. About two dozen tour agencies, a few internet places, half a dozen ‘mini-markets’, and a dozen restaurants. This village decided a while back to become a tourist town, and did so. Wholeheartedly. I find one tarseal street. Then, the central plaza – quite nice. Church, trees, dogs. Lots of big friendly dogs in this village. I make my decision on preferred tour company due to the fact they post their prices on the door – removing the need to go in and confirm. Prices are nearly identical for every company, but still… I like places that have little details like that. So – book a place in this evening’s trip to the Valle de la Luna. Valley of the Moon. There are lots of valleys of the moon in South America. This one is supposed to be pectacular at sunset or sunrise. Sunrise involves getting up early, and bykling out to it. Sunset is supposed to be crowded with tourists. I made m choice. Then – lunch and cerveza. Waitress is amused when I order a pitcher. Rightly so, as it was a decent sized pitcher. I roll up my sleeves, however, and finish it. Then – a short siesta, and up in time for my touristy tour.

Into a minibus, and off we go. First stop, the Valle de Muerte. And I walked through the Valley of Death. I even walked in the shadow of it for some way, just like Samuel L Jackson. Didn’t kill anybody afterwards though, just saw some people ’sandboarding’. Smaller and less steep sand dunes than Northland – and I decide I won’t be paying to do that. Then – onto the Valle de la Luna. See a cave, some oddly shaped rocks, and other filler. Then, to the valley. Climb up a hill, and three choices of places to watch sunset from. I opt for the one which involves walking a rock path, rather than along the crest of a sand dune. Keep walking past a point with multiple people, and find my own little spot. Watch sunset. Not particularly exciting. Walk back to junction, then see opportunity for a photo of all the tourists returning along the sand dune crest. Run down dune. Take photo. Then, start to walk back to bus, noticing an irate looking man walking towards me. We meet, and he is furious that I ran down the dune. I try to say that I didn’t know it wasn’t allowed, and he points out all the people walking down the path, showing that it is rather obvious. I don’t know how to point out that his countrymen, and in fact the population of his entire continent, tend to show a wonderful ignorance of anything obvious or resembling common sense. Probably just as well. Instead, just apologise, and then as questions regarding the guide arise – try to save the guide’s neck by saying that he may have given us the required instructions, but maybe I didn’t understand. We find guide, man gives a little rant, then leaves. Guide says he’ll just get a written warning or something.

Back to San Pedro, where I book a trip for the next morning. 4am. To geysers. Not entirely convinced on this, but convinced by the geysers being the highest geyser field IN THE WORLD! 4am, but. Am told not to have a heavy meal, drink any alcohol, or drink any carbonated drinks tonight. Find a restaurant, order the set menu, and a couple of highly alcoholic pico sours. Then – early to bed.

Early to rise. 02 Aug, 4am. Very cold. Who’d have thought that it would be hot and sunny during the day, and freezing cold at night? Here? In the driest desert IN THE WORLD! (See how long I delayed the whole ‘driest desert IN THE WORLD thing? But once the geysers “…IN THE WORLD” came out, I couldn’t resist anymore.)

Anyway – into another minivan. Same guide. Manage to get a little sleep in the 2.5 hour drive up to these geysers. They only work in the morning, hence the early hour. Get there, still very very cold. Negative something. Walk around – am willing to heed instructions on where not to go, as several tourists have died from walking on thin bits which break – dumping them in boiling water. However, guide just says be careful. One geyser has circle of stones around it, presumably signifying the no-go point. Otherwise, nada. Geysers aren’t particularly interesting. No spraying of water into the air. Just some bubbling and lots of steam. Lots of iced over rivers, directly next to pools of boiling water. I return to minibus after trying to interest myself in these puddles as long as possible. The Rotorua region has much better geysers – and they work all day. Mud too. Breakfast is served. Hot coffee is much appreciated, mostly to warm the hands. Then – into minibus. Am looking forward to an hours drive, then some hot pools when the sun is up properly. Turns out to be a five minute drive, and we arrive at a hot pool. Still zero degrees Celsius. And very difficult to change in a very public place when my towel is not large enough to wrap around. But, I manage, and discover the pool is tepid, rather than warm. One hot spot where a geyser enters the pool – but is of course crowded. After a while of soaking in more disappointment, I get out. Run to clothes, and again struggle to change without proving that it has been a very very long time since ‘down there’ got any sun. Manage, and back onto minibus. Drive some distance to a small village. Tiny village, about a dozen ‘houses’, and – of course – a church. Nice enough. Thatched rooves (yep, it’s a word – rooves and roofs both), church on a hill, streetlights, and most houses with a solar panel. Then, onwards. Well, backwards – to San Pedro. Stop to admire some alpacas, llamas, vicunas, etc on the way. Valley with lush strip of toi-tois in the bottom, and barren slopes of cactus on the sides.

Back to San Pedro – and decide food/cerveza is priority over siesta. So – tasty meal accompanied by cerveza. Waitress is amused when I order my third bottle. But has seemed amused since my arrival. Amused and rather taken by charming ol’ Kruse. But – no time for that, I pay the bill and back to hostel for a siesta. Rather long siesta. Up in time to go for a walk, and find a bar. Hopefully they have more reasonably priced drinks than the very tourist-oriented restaurants. Turns out they do, but the prices are still a shock after Bolivia. Sit down, and start drinking cerveza. Old drunk local man chats to me – but eventually leaves. Young local couple come in – change the DVD from local rock act to a “Megamix” of music videos. Michael Jackson seamlessly merging into Aerosmith, and onto Shakespeare’s Sister, Alanis Morissette (twice), Stone Temple Pilots, G’n’R’s, and many others. Young couple then invites me to join them – and I do so, hoping that musical taste doesn’t arise. It does, but only after the football is put on the big screen – and some Bowie played on the stereo. Which means I avoid the awkward question “Do you like this, which we specifically requested?” More of their friends arrive. One chap who is rather effiminate. Keep drinking cerveza. They recommend a bar for later that night, but by the time the soccer game is over – I’ve easily had enough cerveza – and excuse myself. Forced into one more, then manage to leave.

Right then, today – 03 Aug. Got up, and went to sort myself a bus ticket out of here. Remarkably successful, and last minute decision to go to La Serena. Locals last night suggested that La Serena is much nicer than Antofogasta. Only bus available is this evening, arriving in early afternoon tomorrow. So, rather long trip. Gets me that much closer to Santiago however, where Pen arrives in a week. So – with bus ticket done (thankfully they accept Visa), I wandered around trying to figure out what to do with my littler remaining cash. (Turns out there ARE two ATMS in town – but only one accepts Visa – and has been out of order). Go back to restaurant with the waitress who took a liking to Kruse (as I know they also accept Visa), and she isn’t there. Get some breakfast without all that troublesome fluttering of eyelids and unnecessary bending over the table. Wander past the Visa ATM – and today it’s working. So – get some cash out while I can, and continue on feeling cashed-up. First stop, the museum.  Looking forward to these very well preserved mummies.  Walk through entire thing, noting quite a bit of old artwork/stuff that is remarkably similar to Maori equivalent.  But no mummies.  Read comment book, and there’s a few complaints about the lack of mummies.  Then – internet, the great time-waster. And viola – this update. So – now have a few hours left in San Pedro – then off to La Serena. about to go use some of this cash – quite possibly on cervezas and/or pisco sours.