Day 8 — Assault and Flattery

No travel diary would be complete without a couple of cautionary tales. As it happens, our second day in Valpo furnished not one, but two. Both involved thefts, and one involved violent Chilean self-proclaimed lesbians.

Let me explain.

Day 7 — Valpo

Sixteen hours travel – give or take – took us from the Humboldt penguins to the cultural heart of Chile, Valparaiso. Known as Valpo to its inhabitants, the port city was for a time the home of Pablo Neruda, one of Chile’s greatest poets. It is a quirky place, combining dockside grit with urban escapism, all in a picture postcard perfect setting.

We rolled in to town early in the morning, fresh as daisies after another oh-so-wonderful all night bus trip. As we wandered bleary-eyed through the streets, Valpo woke up around us. Empty streets filled with vendors, then workers, and then shoppers; the pre-dawn peace gave way to the noise and colour and bustle in the streets near the water’s edge.

Day 6 — Penguin Island

We awoke early to the sound of the ocean, the gentle rhythm of the surf gradually reminding us of where we were — in a tent on a beach on the shore of the Pacific Ocean. All in all, not a bad place to be.

Jose and Patty were already awake by the time we stumbled out in to the daylight, and after a quick breakfast, Manuela and I piled into Jose’s truck and headed out to the wharf. As we drove, Jose explained to us that it never, ever rained there. It promptly started to drizzle, but Jose valiantly pointed to his useless windshield wipers as evidence that this was the exception, not the rule.

Day 5 — The Road Less Travelled (is Really Empty)

Most locations we visited during our South American travels were profiled in our trusty Lonely Planet guidebook. If not profiled, they were at least mentioned in passing. Today, however, we resolved to step off the beaten track, to go where no Lonely Planet editor had gone before — to visit the National Humboldt Penguin Reserve.

Day 4 — The Beach!

Following our escape from Uyuni the previous day to San Pedro de Atacama in Chile, we caught an overnight bus to Bahia Inglesa. Bahia Inglesa (literally, “English Bay”) is a beach resort located on the Pacific Ocean near the city of Copiapo, Chile. It’s known for seashell-white sands, good surfing, and turquoise blue waters. In the high season, it’s packed with vacationing Chilenos, but we arrived during autumn.

The Beach is Moving

A week ago last Sunday, we arrived in Iquique, Chile. Iquique is a beach town, one of two in northern Chile — Arica is the other. According to Wikipedia, the town has an interesting history. It was the site of a famous naval battle during the war between Chile and Bolivia-Peru for control of the surrounding territory. As it happens, Chile apparently lost the battle but won the war. This fact has not yet been forgotten in either Peru or Bolivia. For instance, there is a giant statue in La Paz commemorating the defenders of Bolivia’s Litoral Province; it’s in Plaza Aroya, just down the block from my apartment. Moreover, undaunted by the lack of ocean access, the Bolivian military still maintains a navy. Its operations are currently confined to lake Titicaca and various rivers in the country, but you never know…. (Actually, given that there are pirates in Saskatchewan, a naval force on Titicaca doesn’t seem quite so odd.)

The Long Dark Bus Ride of the Soul

Alternate title: Getting There is Half the Ink

I realize that “expect the unexpected” is a very tired phrase.In a perfect world, it along with a hundred other cliches and empty platitudes (along with redundancies like “empty platitudes”) would be retired from active duty in the English language. Unfortunately however, we do not live in a perfect world, and “expect the unexpected” remains the best way I can think to describe the mental attitude necessary for travel in Bolivia. Our trip from Oruro to Iquique, Chile, was a textbook case. Nothing went wrong, per se, and yet it was undoubtedly not what we expected.