There’s not much to say about Arica. A town of about 200,000 people perched at the northern point of Atacama and a stone’s throw from the border with Peru the town is dusty, heaving with backpackers and trucks moving north or south. The one amazing thing about Arica however is the surfing.
The race to Arica
When Daphne’s passport came through, I was happy, relieved and on the wrong side of the Atacama desert. I’d been here because it is a world famous astrophotography location with spectacularly clear and dark skies. Except when it rains.
The road to Arica
Before I left for Athens we agreed that it’d make sense to meet in Arica, a town on the boarder with Peru famed for its surf. We also agreed that till I got a passport in my hands it made little sense to plan further, book tickets etc. So whilst we were apart Andy was slowly making his way through Salta and I was enjoying all the modern day luxuries in Athens (decaf skinny lattes, Zara, haircut…).
Picking up hitch hikers, life at altitude, landing on the tourist trail, and time travel
When you pick up a hitch hiker you have a very,very short period of time for you both to figure out if either of you are a serial killer.
As I rolled past, he put his cigarette out on the heel of his Vans and put the butt in his pocket. Serial killer he may be, but a considerate one at least. I stopped, rolled back, window down and asked where he was going. Atacama. Jump in amigo.
The passport chronicles (part 3)
Passport is here. In my hands!!!!!!!!!!
The race is on for our randevouz in Arica. 4 flights for me; 2 of which have not been booked. 20hr drive for Andy who is still in the Chile – Argentina boarder.
Needless to say I’ve only got 3 hours to pack and head to the airport.
Huge thanks to my mum, dad, Andy’s mum and sister, Georgina, Paris, Leah, Zoe, Rich, Em, Deppy, Thanassis, the “feel good thread” gang and Pammy for their daily support and encouragement. Special mention to my bro who patiently accumulated dozens of Amazon parcels and shipped them to Greece and Angelina who flew over from Stockholm for my birthday. And everyone else who I am sure I am forgetting now (this feels like an Oscars speech).
Part deux is on!
In Salta : a few days in north western Argentina
I am here because I need a city. I need to do things like organise insurance for the truck. Like buy food that isn’t noodles and frankly try to dry everything out. Thing is, Salta is actually quite beautiful so I stayed, and made some photos….
Continue reading “In Salta : a few days in north western Argentina”
The night it rained… a lot
The dust blows across the high plains in grey swirling red clouds. The ‘painter’s palette’ landscape rolls by in a blur of brick red, ochre and ethereal greyish greens. Stepping out to buy goat cheese and bread is like stepping into oven. So it is surprising that just 12 hours later I was bailing out the tent with a bath sponge…
A desert (puna) vignette – life out here
A vignette from the past few days:
Coffee by a thorn tree
The hot oven-dry wind plasters my shirt to my shoulders as I sit in the sparse freckled shade of a lone thorn tree watching the mercury-silver shimmer of the road twenty meters away. On the other side of the gravel is a cinderblock hut, roof of plastic sheeting held by logs and rocks, a small wooden door, more propped than hung, in the doorway. Behind the hut is the white-bleached sky the sand wash of a desiccated riverbed, and corral of twisted sticks. Continue reading “A desert (puna) vignette – life out here”
Mendoza and around (part 3)
Given my inability to keep track of what day it is, I miscalculated and set off for Mendoza a day early. Happily that gave us the luxury of (even more) time. As we were hungry, and as it was: nearly our last day for a while, nearly valentines and nearly three months on the road, I suggested spontaneous lunch at a vineyard. Happily the next one we passed was the award winning Septima Continue reading “Mendoza and around (part 3)”
Mendoza and around (part 2)
A handful of notes to bring us up to speed (now I have wifi)
The sign, after careful translation read:
In the event of seeing a puma:
- Gather your children together
- Shout and wave your arms
- Do not run
- Tell a ranger as soon as possible
It is with these wise words forefront of mind that I set off for a run to the observatory and back, at dusk. Continue reading “Mendoza and around (part 2)”