from Arequipa, Perú

I started last Tuesday morning from Santiago... It was a 24-hour bus ride that took me north through La Serena, Copiapo, Antofagasta (i was sleeping here) and finally to Iquique. It is paranoia-inducing not to have a guide telling me the highlights of the area, places to stay, things to expect. It might have been helpful to bring one, but that's what makes this trip a different one... a small red backpack and me for a month (if I can last)... though I bought a small woven bag, more on that.

During our re-fuel/ bus cleaning in Copiapo, I realized I hadn't eaten much more than bread in the preceding 12 hours so I ran to the adjacent market, deliriously looking for something to eat. In a huge supermarket, I got confused by florescent lights and couldn't wait for my number to be called at the deli... I found a banana and a can of tuna that I figured would get the blood sugar going... i ran back to the busstop and found two distinctly smaller buses. I panicked, you should have felt my adreneline rush... it was unbelievable... my backpack gone, I had a bit of food and it was dark in a town about which I knew nothing. I looked around and finally I got, "Oye, flaco, no llegó, no te preocupes." My fellow passenger in a Scansia hat told me kindly that we were still waiting for our bus to return... and it did 20 minutes later. What a feeling... i don't know where that reserve energy came from, but it was insane. I ate the banana and tuna as my headache raged and finally I passed out as the rhythm of the bus floated northwards in the night.

Fortunately I was on the ocean-side of the bus and I woke up to watch the magnificently empty sand cliff drop steeply into the Pacific... little fishing villages popped up from time to time that brought my attention away from glistening waves. Iquique was a 30 min turn-around to a ghost-town called Humberstone. I was going with the mining thing still... a North American company set up shop quickly but didn't really dismantle it so it was a marvellous feat to see all of the equipment used to extract salt from the high desert plains... only 50 years old... not so much past or even recent past... but present time. Weird to see this in the middle of nowhere... but that is the story of the Chilean high desert north. So many minerals, so much exploitation, towns abandoned and currently vibrant in the middle of seemingly nothing.

From there to the Oasis of Pica, first real stop n the journey of power places. Verdant green in a small nook in at the base of the Andes, stark in the middle of the desert, named the Atacama, supposedly the driest one in the world. Fresh mango, orange and g____ (i don't know the name of the fruit but it was awesome) juices to pass a long lazy afternoon. And the pools were marvelously refreshing too, heated slightly by the underlying volcanic activity somewhere in the distance. This is where I bought my bag of Alpaca fur, after I watched the woman make it with her small, tanned cracked hands.

Back to Iquique, upwards to Arica where I passed a night on the edge of the Chilean/Peruvian border. Then to Tacna, Perú by means of a collective car in which i was crammed into the middle of the front seat with the driver to my left (shifting, mind you) and a surprisingly big Chilean man to the right. Tacna has the biggest population of Muslims in Peru and we passed a beautiful mosque upon entering the city... Here, another quick turn around, so I had a small lunch of ceviche, pieces of fish seared and doused with lemon juice, onions, boiled corn (it has a special name that has been lost on me) and a purple-orange potato (name also lost in the memory banks)- typical for coastal Peru... keep in mind it is still dry and brown everywhere, even near the coast... With the Andes peering down, they don't seem so tall, but they remain glorious even as we started to climb upwards and inwards.

Upwards to Arequipa, Perú's "White City", elevation 2350 meters... after more desert than you can imagine... four straight days of it (the inspiration for some creative words that I blogged earlier). Al base de los Vulcanes Misti y Chachani. Its buildings are made of sillar, the white, petrified, volcanic rocks that cooled so many years ago. I didn't know this was a city of over a million people, so when I arrived at dusk it was a certain shock. But things tend to work out (or they don't, right Drew?), so the taxi driver found me a nice place to stay. Instead of finding my way to local hot springs as originally planned, I spent today exploring this 500+ year old city- viewpoints from las municipalidades de Sachaca, Yanahuara, Sabandia and Israel.

I coughed and got the shivers as I sat in the lobby of the hostal this afternoon while cavern-like ceilings and ancient walls allowed it to stay cool despite the raging heat outside. My palms turned dark when I pressed them lightly to a roof-top surface while setting up my camara. The dust that I acquired was not filthy, but sacred. I see the reminants of the Spanish conquests from so long ago. But the oppresive history is almost forgetten as their buildings are overcome by modern shacks. The Spanish language and disorganization from their hasty departure seem to be the only proof of their original invasions. From the wood burning stoves to the white rock particles floating in the air, this places smells so old... and I think because it has been living for so long.

I had originally ended this post with a "wait until next time" sort of theme, with plans of the future and so forth... but I can not be certain of the future. Life is constantly living as I go on witnessing. So, as I report, adding some descriptive spice from time to time, I want to discuss a real world that exists. Not the "real world" that exists on TV, nor the "real world" that makes graduating university students shiver when they look towards the future. But a real world ignored and called a "third" world in order to seperate the fortunate from the unfortaunte. These terminologies were determined with definite distinction. But common to both "worlders," life unexpectedly changes forms and I am more committed to exploring life in this present moment.

These thoughts crossed my mind as I watched medics try to revive a woman lying, dying in the street.

If this got too intense for your liking, then I hope you can let it go as I did when I wrote it down. In reporting my findings, I am just trying to keep it real. I end this post to eat real food with a savory taste.

Soon

(enjoy the following piece of writing too! It's entitled "Three's", at least for now...)