Arica

We landed at the Arica airport about 11 p.m., got a shuttle and rode into the city in the dark. A few people got off at their homes, nothing fancy. Smaller than I imagined, but then what did I expect at a rural desert port town in the far north of Chile? Different is a better word.

Finally we made it to the Hotel El Paso, next to the casino, which unfortunately I did not get to play at because a strict no-gambling rule is in effect to promote marital bliss. The hotel is a series of low pink buildings around a pool and various flowered courtyards. Sort of Western style, it even had free computers in the lobby. It had been a very long day, so we changed into our PJs, drank a beer from the frigobar in the room, and went to sleep.

Allison informed me that I may not be able to flush toilet paper. For some reason, there are two kinds of tp available in Chile, flushable and un-flushable. I am a little baffled still as to why. At this place I flushed. No sign = it's getting flushed.

From our room's patio, we could see the very large Morro de Arica, where the Chilean army had defeated Peruvian and Bolivian forces in the War of the Pacific in 1880 and basically that's what made Chile Chile.

After breakfast (bread, meat slices, fruit, juice, instant coffee, pretty typical) we walked down the road into the town center. The city is right on the coast, very dusty, dry (LP says some people here have never seen rain), and kinda shabby.

Gustav Eiffel built a church entirely of steel here. Or he designed it and had it shipped and assembled here. It was pretty cool, colorful, with walls maybe 2 to 4 inches thick. They even had Jesus in a glass casket just inside the door.

We walked up to the top of the Morro, a giant dirt hill layered with garbage, sporting a big shrine to Virgin Mary under which two kids were making out while an old lady cleaned up around them, topped with a giant Chilean flag, circling vultures, and a museum in the battery. It was a long walk.

The museum was a pretty standard war museum, uniforms on mannequins, old bullets and rifles, and some details of the campaign. We mostly liked the view of the city, port, and ocean.

After the first family we asked to take our photo didn't understand that you have to push the button all the way, despite Allison's Spanish, we approached a couple of Carabineros. They're cops, but more national guard style, sort of an internal military force. These two guys were on dirt bikes and fooling around with an old cannon like twelve year olds.

They were really nice, especially to Allison, took our photo, traded addresses with us, told us to sit on their bikes for a photo. It was pretty cool. I can't think of any U.S. cop experience I've had that was as fun. But I guess if your job was "patrolling" an empty dirt parking lot on top of a big dirt hill, you might be interested in having a chat with whoever came up to talk to you.

We made our way down and into the city center for lunch. More Churrascos, and I exhibited my knack for ordering the girliest drink possible on the menu. The waitress smirked when I asked for the primavera (springtime), or whatever it was called. I wondered what the smirk was for until she brought my large pink drink with fruit skewers and umbrellas. Allison laughed at me too. So I like girl drinks, so what?

We were sitting at a table on the sidewalk enjoying our lunch and sweet cocktail when a bum came up and mumbled in Spanish. The answer is "no." He became very angry at continued no's and ended up spitting in no direction and then punching a plant on the rail. Then he wandered off and somehow made good friends with the guys a couple of tables over. Allison went to the toilet. A toothless grandma in a mickey mouse Christmas sweatshirt came up to me and asked for money, that was a no too. Her I might have given something had it not been for Punchy McSpitsalot earlier. The old lady left. Spitty came back, mumbling very angrily now. Allison said if we give you money will you go away. Smart. He agreed and she reached into her little change purse. Then the restaurant boss came out and chased him off. The guy made some shadow boxing motions, cursed some, spit on some teenage girls walking by, and stumbled along on his merry way. Whatever. But it put us off of our travel high for a while.

There wasn't much else to see, and after some more walking around, we got a taxi to the bus terminal, bought our tickets for San Pedro de Atacama two days away, and then headed back to the hotel.

Later on we had some drinks at the bar and Al chatted with the barman about futbol. He was one of many people she talked to who thought she must be from Spain. For dinner we went to a place along the ocean that we'd seen from the Morro. Pisco sours. Seafood (yay!). Handmade leather menus. A German family we'd seen at the hotel earlier showed up and sat near us. They were the first other gringos we'd seen, and we saw them all the way down to La Serena, for another week. I guess there's a reason they call it the "gringo trail." We were all navigating with the Lonely Planet so I guess it's not that much of a surprise.

I forget what exactly dinner was, but it was good, on a terrace overlooking the Pacific. Then we walked on the beach a while and got a taxi back to the hotel.

The next morning we checked out, rented a small car from Avis, Señor Peugeot, and drove east into the mountains.