Goodbye Iquique & Chile

Iquique, the Miami Beach of Chile, is sandwiched in between walls of sand to the east and the Pacific. An odd town brought to life during the nitrate boom and now surviving on beach and extreme sport enthusiasts. Old Town where we stayed was full of historic buildings all framed in douglas fir from Oregon and painted in a mix of bright and pastel colors. The trim work and details even had a hint of the Pacific Northwest architecture. The main pedestrian street even had wooden sidewalks down the entire length - very exotic and proof of the wealth (long since gone) in this desert region.

Today is a travel day, full day on buses with a border crossing (not our favorite) but we are excited to return to Peru. The trip from Iquique to Arica on the border is not along the rugged coast but inland a bit through the vast wasteland. The climb imediately out of town up through the coastal range was a site, through huge sand mountains and dunes. We passed the abandoned nitrate mines, steel structures that look like they came right out of Mad Max's Thunderdome and a crazy web of train tracks that appear and disapear under the sand... erie. The Andes were far off in the distance on the right side of the bus as we head north, Meghan, Helen and I in the front window and Debby a couple rows back. Riding on the top floor of a bus feels a little like flying in a very turbulent plane just above the highway... it's a great view. Six hours later we were in the Arica bus station trying to figure out the best route across the border to Peru.

For one reason or another the buses to Tacna leave from a terminal across the street so we wheel our bags in that direction and once inside are barraged by taxi drivers wanting to ferry us the 40 minute trip. Hungry and still not sure of the best move, bus or taxi and tired of being hassled we retreat to the first terminal for a bite of lunch. Over completos (sliced beef, tomatoes and avacado on a bun) I rationalize that a public bus, with safety in numbers will be our best bet, a private taxi in the desert sounds similar to a taxi at night. For the third time we cross the street and half block looking like a stripped down version of the Partridge Family in Peru, penetrate the line of taxi drivers at the entrance and find our way to the buses. These buses list the destination in the window but no specific travel times... they leave when they are full. We were the first 10 on the bus (no prize) so we wait about 15 minutes and we are off. During that time we read through the border crossing section of our travel book and learn that the taxis are listed as the safer and quicker method. Oh well, you can't always be right, and I am writing this now so it couldn't be too bad.

The border was a non-issue, as they all have been, still we have much anxiety at and around the frontera. Only one more border to cross before we head home as our Peru Visa expires in 120 and we have to leave for a day or two. Tacna is a small town with a fountain designed by Gustave Eiffel in the plaza was quiet except for a band rocking the restaurant below our hotel. It was incredibly loud and not very good so we asked what time they would finish up and headed out for some chinese food.