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 3 — The Big Race

After a very cold night in the unheated hostel on the shores of Lago Colorado, we woke up early. Really early. The plan was to head out by 4:30 A.M., in order to see the sunrise over the Sol de Manana geysers, an immense field of steam and bubbling mud located some 5000m above sea level. Predictably, the truck didn’t start again. Less predictably, it continued to not start, even after we pushed it up a rather steep hill (with the help of several other tourists staying at the hostel and a cable tow from another SUV) and rolled it back down again.

Day 2 — Flocking Flamingos

We started the day with a bit of exercise, as the truck once again declined to start. In an effort to keep things interesting, this time we had to push it along a slight uphill incline, and Carlos the driver dropped it into reverse in order to get it started.

It worked though, and soon we were on our way.

The truck jounced along merrily, as we took in the arid landscapes and listened to classic sounds of the ’80s and ’90s on Carlos’ very well-used mix tape (one of three we had for the entire trip). About an hour later, we found ourselves gawking at the second major attraction along the Southwest Circuit: flocks of flamingos!

Day 1 — Salar de Uyuni

Well, we’re finally back in Canada. It’s a sad moment in some ways, though it’s also good to be back on Mountain Daylight Time. Among other things, it finally gives me a bit of time to write a bit about our trip before the memories start to fade. So, here goes…

Our first step on our month-long adventure was an all night bus ride from La Paz to the town of Uyuni. Once there, we quickly surveyed the town, and signed on with a likely looking tour operator to do a 3-day swing through Bolivia’s “Southwest Circuit.” Our first stop on said tour was the Salar de Uyuni, located in southwest Bolivia. It’s the largest salt flat in the world, and one of the most surreal places on earth. If I were to make a film about purgatory, I’d film it here. I’ve never seen so much nothingness — just blue and white, stretching on towards infinity. It’s the one place in the world where formal modern art accurately captures the world.