Vicuņa
Hace Frio
Thursday July 12
Perhaps today has been my favorite day in Chile (so far). Nothing exciting happened. We didn't do much, other than browse the streets of Vicuņa. I didn't drive anywhere, and Tom and Anna started in, in earnest, on schoolwork. Now the three kids are watching a movie on a laptop and Lynn is huddled next to an electric radiator in our room while I'm writing this. At about 7:15pm, we're killing time until the next tour at Observatorio Cerro Mamalluca. The 6:30pm tour was cancelled due to "demasiado nubes" (clouds). When I peak out of the hotel room door and look up, I still see nada, so I assume the observatory visit is a bust for tonight. We'll be here to try again tomorrow, so I hope the weather obliges.
Backing up a few days, we woke up on Tuesday to frigid temperatures in Santiago; minus several degrees centigrade. The current Central and Southern South American cold snap is big news around here. Frost destroyed spinach and lettuce crops. Snow fell in Buenos Aires for the first time since 1918.
Packing up Joombo to leave Santiago turned out to be a minor challenge - more of a pain than a real problem, and we didn't fret over organization much (which will cost us eventually). We just sort of crammed and jammed until it was all in there and then drove away. Speaking of Joombo, the family read the web journal and immediately revolted against, as Geoff put it, "a stupid cutesy name." So I asked what ideas they all could come up with. Lynn asked, rather sarcastically, "how about 'The Car' ?" I pointed out her lack of precise language and agreed to use the name "The Truck" in the future.
A cold morning in the Vitacura neighborhood of Santiago
About 40 minutes north of Santiago, we exited the freeway for a short look at a sanctuary/monastery/convent dedicated to Santa Teresa de los Andes, the first Catholic saint from Chile. Strolling the grounds of the sanctuary provided us with a chance to relax and take in some incredible views.
Just a few kilometers north of the sanctuary, we drove into the town of Los Andes for lunch and to visit an anthropological museum. This was our first taste of "the other" Chile, and here I mean everything other than the "Zona Metropolitana de Santiago" and the few seaside resort towns directly to the east. I was a bit surprised. This was a little more - a little less - hmmm, well, it was a tad more dirty and dumpy (in a charming sort of way, of course) than I would have expected to find in Chile after spending two weeks in the Providencia and Viticura neighborhoods of Santiago.
Then after driving for almost four more hours, making only one or two wrong turns that were quickly remedied without panic or blame, we pulled into the town of Illapel. To get here we had to drive west all the way to the coast, and then angle back to the northeast. When we crested a hill and first saw the ocean, Lynn rolled down her window and everyone took a deep breath.
"Oooh, that smells so good!" everyone sighed between deep breaths.
This was the first time that we had breathed real fresh air outside of the Santiago basin, and suddenly our groggy heads felt clearer and those nagging little headaches went away.
Illapel is a mining town in the Choapa Valley, and we went there because it provides a "warm," sheltered and civilized place to sleep near the famous "Reserva Nacional Las Chinchillas." From what I can glean from my travel guide readings, most towns in Chile outside of Santiago are either "mining," "agriculture" (table grapes for the world, wine grapes for the world, and/or grapes for making pisco - the latter mostly for Chileans), "agriculture and mining," or "ports" (to help export mining and/or agricultural products). And there are resorts near beautiful beaches and assorted natural wonders up and down the whole country. After a quick inspection of our hotel rooms, we realized that we were going to sleep in our clothes and probably wouldn't brave the germs in the bathroom to take showers in the morning. After walking around town for a 10-15 minutes, we finally found a restaurant that allowed minors and seemed clean and reasonable (and in the process we also realized that there probably were not any significantly better accommodations available elsewhere). Dinner was reasonable and I think we all slept well, except perhaps for me, as I started coughing and feeling like I was coming down with a cold.
View of the Choapa Valley
Wednesday morning, we left Illapel without regret, and continued driving eastward. After 15 km, we arrived at the Chinchilla reserve. We had to turn onto a road marked "only trucks!" (assumedly for the nearby copper mine), and wondered how simple tourists that didn't have a pick-up could visit the reserve. But we half ignored the sign, half considered our pickup as a "real truck" and plowed onward. The chinchilla reserve was on our to-do list because it is in a guide book and sounded interesting. And besides, chinchillas are ridiculously cute, too.
The land surrounding this reserve is the last remaining place on earth where a certain type of chinchilla lives in the wild. They had trapped some and put them in a pseudo-natural viewing habitat - lit during the night and darkened during the day so the chinchillas were tricked into scampering around during human business hours. Thus, we tourists could watch them in action. First we looked at the captive chinchillas and then we walked around looking at the dry, cactus-covered hills where they live, learning about the local food chain and what all sorts of plants, birds, reptiles etc., were involved. Since we were, amazingly, the only visitors at this exceptional and world-renowned preserve, the sole docent/employee doted on us throughout our stay and accompanied us on our walk. Much to our relief, he tried very hard to speak slow, simple, and well enunciated Spanish.
I really took this picture! (inside the artificial habitat)
Walking the trail and looking at the natural home of the rare chinchilla.
Cactus flower.
Red Fox in the parking lot.
After the giddy euphoria of seeing chinchillas finally wore off, we piled back into the truck and headed back towards the coast so we could drive north a little ways and then drive back inland at the next river valley (Limari) which harbors human enterprise worthy of a road. The road led to a fairly large town. Well, Ovalle is actually a major agricultural center containing 85,000 people, surrounded by acres and acres of vineyards and a smattering of pisco distilleries. Although we did buy gas and eat lunch in Ovalle, these weren't the primary reasons we drove there. We wanted to see the petroglyphs just outside of town, in the Monumento Nacional de Cultura de Molle (Valle del Encanto). Once again, we had the entire national reserve to ourselves, as well as the attentions of the proprietor, who carefully tried to explain the history of the indigenous people (Molle) who had lived in the region, and common speculations as to the purpose of the 'glyphs that are all over the place.
Scenes from Valle del Encanto
Chilean Mockingbird (commonly called "Tenca") sitting in tree
Pisco grapes in the Limari valley. The are dormant in winter, which it is at the moment.
At lunch in Ovalle, Geoff was delighted with the restaurant's rendition of a pobre, which is steak and french fries and fried onions and two fried eggs, served in one juicy (greasy) heap. The rest of us have no interest whatsoever in this culinary contraption, and although Geoff wolfs it down with relish, even he is starting to think that maybe he should go for a salad and some fruit now and then. Here in Chile, I've seen, bought, and eaten wonderful fruits and vegetables, both in the grocery store and at road-side stands, but the restaurants (those serving "comida chilena tipica," at least) seem for the most part incapable of incorporating much more than tomato, onion, fresh cilantro, and avocado into their recipes.
After our late lunch, we hit the road again at a little after 4pm. I was groggy with my cold and a full belly. We still had more than a couple hours to drive to get to Vicuņa (were we will thankfully stay for several nights). I haven't been able to convince Lynn to take a stab at driving the truck yet, even though it is fairly simple and easy, especially out on the open road. Needless to say, I found this little stretch of driving rather draining, especially since night fell before we made it to town.
Vicuņa lies in the Elqui valley, famous for pisco grapes and actually some plain old vino as well. Of course to get there from Ovalle we had to angle back to the coastal resort town of La Serena and then follow the Elqui river upstream to Vicuņa. Passing through La Serena (before dark), Geoff commented on the communist graffiti (hammer and sickle, workers solidarity slogans, etc...) that he noticed, scrawled all over the place. Chile's economy is primarily mining and agriculture and it seems there is also a noticeable class distinction between the rural "workers" and the rest of the country. Paving the middle ground between communism and fascism is the objective and task at hand for the current government, lead by the moderate socialist (and female) president Michelle Bachelet. In addition to the easy to interpret graffiti, here is also a lot of graffiti with the word "Bachelet" in it. Although I can't understand all or even much of it, I can figure out that some people think she's too left, and others think she is far too right.
Anyway, we finally did make it to Vicuņa, safely in time for a late dinner. As I mentioned earlier, I enjoyed sleeping late and not driving today. Hopefully, my cold will be vanquished soon. The kids started in on schoolwork in the morning and later we all walked the streets of town and visited an entomological museum (one fanatic's excellent collection of preserved bugs and spiders, presented with a smattering of geological and archeological bric-a-brac). Unfortunately, cloudy skies prohibited us from visiting the nearby observatory tonight. All tours were cancelled. According to a woman in the observatory's tour office in town, 80 marines on leave from the Chilean navy were turned away as well. Perhaps it is a good thing that we got cancelled and will have to try again tomorrow night - it might be a little less crowded on the tour (or perhaps the marines will be back). The "night off" also gave me a chance to sort through some pictures and write this. Tomorrow during the day we have visits to a Gabriella Mistral museum and/or a pisco distillery to choose from.
Our hotel has large grounds with a lawn, swimming pool, tennis court, and party terrace. Everything is in a mixed state of "out of season" and "way past it's prime and un-maintained," but the food is good, there are llamas on the lawn, the staff is attentive and friendly, and the rooms are large and clean. We just wish they were a little warmer. One plug-in electric radiator per room can't quite overcome the current cold-snap.
With Lynn huddled by the radiator, I took a break from typing and went to ask for "more, please?" The lobby receptionist and head porter eagerly agreed and set off to find a couple more electric heaters. They asked a stern, stout, housekeeper where to get them. She replied that we already had some. I explained that we wanted one more for each room because it was so cold. She asked
"Do you want more blankets?" I said something like
"To sleep not is a problem, but before to sleep, we are cold!" She steadfastly refused.
"Una por cada! Una por cada!" she barked. The receptionist and porter looked confused and embarrassed. Finally they all agreed that we could borrow the propane "estufa" from the dining room until 11:00pm. Back in the room, Lynn and I pondered the black hulk of the stove dubiously, wondering if we would get carbon-monoxide poisoning (we didn't). Eventually, I tried to be generous with my reasoning and suggested to Lynn that maybe each room's circuit breaker could only handle one electric heater. I was a little sheepish about having played the part of the complaining tourist (at one point I even said something like "I paid a lot for these rooms, why can't I have another heater for just a few hours?") but mostly proud to have stood my ground with the cranky housekeeper - in halting, terrible, Spanglish. I wonder how well our rooms will get cleaned tomorrow.
The swimming pool looked a little more cleaner and a little less greener on the Hosteria Vicuņa website. Of course it is the middle of winter, but after watching llamas and cats and dogs drink from the green, leafy water, I just can't picture myself coming back to swim laps in the summer.
Where ever we go, the young girls like to have their picture taken with Geoff.
Streets of Vicuņa
Central Plaza
Geoff finds a friend - street dogs are not unique to Santiago!
Someone drove a small pickup into our hotel parking lot this morning, with this chunk of quartz crystal laden rock weighting down the bed. Later we watched him hose it down on the grass next to the gravel driveway. Amazing! They mine all sorts of metals and chemicals in Chile, but the primary mining export these days is copper. If you want to know how the Chilean economy is doing - watch the price of copper!
A photogenic and very friendly llama wanders the lawn in the inner courtyard of our hotel.
On the streets of Vicuņa today, Geoff and I were staring at the comings and goings of this charming, simple, grubby little town along the river, and I felt like both of us were perhaps musing a little about why we were here.
"Just think," I casually said to him. "With the money we're spending on this trip, we probably could have gone just about anywhere for a nice little glamorous (albeit shorter) vacation - perhaps the French Riviera, Switzerland, the South Pacific, Acapulco, or even Las Vegas! - but instead, we chose to visit dusty little pueblos in rural Chile." He smirked. Maybe we were both thinking about all the interesting, grubby little places we've been.
"Yeah, just think," he said, with a little chuckle. "Why do we do that?"
-Rolf
12 July 2007