During the first draft of this writing, Monday October 25th, I had found myself stranded in San Pedro de Atacama, in the middle of the Atacama desert about 45 minutes from the Chile-Bolívia border. I had spent my very last pesos on a half hour of internet use which I used to call the bank to inquire why my debit card wasn´t working. I didn´t leave myself enough time for the funds to be verified by the uber-corporation Schwab from our small town credit union. Good lesson to learn, it´s a bit scary being so far away from home with nothing but a credit card with a $1,000 dollar limit. That last sentence makes me realize how fortunate I really am because it´s probably more than most people have in Bolívia in general.
I had let La Serena, Chile at 6:30 PM on Saturday the 23rd and after finishing a book and after many playing hours of Gameboy I arrived in Calama the next day at 9:30 AM. I bought a ticket for San Pedro and arrived in the desert oasis around 1:30 PM. If it weren´t for the flocks of tourists that donate their hard-earned dinero to the area, I have no doubt that the small pueblo would barely exist. My purificador, or water purifier has come in handy since the water in San Pedro is not potable. A few of the workers at my hostel were amazed at the small contraption I produced from my bag. At first they were skeptical, but then Javi asked me to fill herher bottle. She was surprised that it tasted much better than the arsenic-containing H2O that flows from the tap. Wandering around the dusty streets, I ran into a friend from Valpo, Andrea, who runs a coffee shop close to where I stayed in the pensión. She was with another friend, Brooke from California, so we sat and talked for a while in the main plaza. It turns out that these two girls had hitched all the way from Valparaíso to San Pedro, a journey of 22 hours or so by bus. One of the tour operators in San Pedro had taken a liking to them, offered them free tours and a job, to be paid on commission, promoting his company. I was their first potential client. But it was difficult to take a tour without money, neither did I possess the beautiful looks and shining personalities of these two girls. We hitched a short way out of town where Andrea and Brooke had done their laundry. A skinny man named Javier was wallowing around in the dust in a mud hut preparing some noodles. He reminded me slightly of my uncle Doug, but much more preachy and judgmental. After niceties were exchangd, he launched into a spiel on the evils of anyone who had a lot of money, or possibly just more money than him. Brooke, who lives in Malibu and studies in Santa Barbara looked nervous. Money corrupts, buys elections, makes one insensitive to those around him or her and to the earth. Yes. I agree, but I do not believe that money unequivocally makes a person bad. "I can live just like this, here in my home, 100% happy and totally free of the system", Javier exclaimed. Great. How is your life benifitting others? I felt so strongly about this because a lot of his ideas were good, but it was a prime example of the pointing the finger when 6 more are pointing right back. I found out later, that greatly helped explain his behavior, that he once had a cocaine habit.
Anduvimos de dedo, or we hitched back into town, Andrea and Brooke went back to work and I set off for Pukará de Quitor, a lookout adjacent to some ancient Atacameño ruins, from where you can see for miles up and down the valley. The sun`s rays started to wane, so I called off the full trek, hiked up a little hill and ate some carrots, bread and an apple and watched the sunset.
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