August 6: "See that the rocks have touched time"

Word of the day:
animita: small roadside shrine to loved ones

We arrived in San Pedro a little before noon. The town was so unexpected because there is literally nothing on the road up to it, save a few animitas that grew increasingly ominous as the bus slowed down considerably or rounded twisting curves.

San Pedro has an incredibly unique smell: the dust, clay and lack of moisture are palpable. The town itself, or at least the touristy parts of it, are constructed from adobe that has been whitewashed, giving it a unique look as well. There's a small central plaza, a church, several blocs of tour agencies, restaurants etc. and a large cemetary.

The majority of the 4000 residents however, live in less than ideal conditions, some which could even be described as shameful. Rudely constructed from cardboard, wood scraps and corrugated metal, many of these houses seemed even more precarious than some of those in the worst areas of Santiago.

We were picked up Roberto, the owner of the hostel where were were staying in his ancient turquoise truck. With long black hair, even longer than mine, he seemed exactly like a character from an Southwestern movie. The hostel itself was perfect for what we need, comfortable beds, bathrooms, a kitchen and hammocks constructed around a central common area. Roberto×s family lived in part of the compound, including presumably his mother and father, an old man with no hands. The whole relaxed atmosphere of the place and the different cast of characters from upper middle class Santiago made it seem worlds away.

With no time to lose, we headed back to the centro to look for a tour for the evening. We decided it would best to check out Valle de la Luna (¨Moon Valley") for a tour that lasted until the sunset.

Our tour started out from a mirador overlooking the whole valley and checking out the mountains, which the ancient Atacamenian people viewed as gods and goddesses.

From there, we went to check out Valle de la Muerte, so named because it is so arid and saline that no life can exist there OR because a Belgian priest tried to name it "Mars Valley" but was misunderstood because of his accent.

Interfacing with the desert was such a different experience than interfacing with a new city, the only kind of exploration Ive done in a while. While cities are such a celebration of all that it means to be human, the deserts presence signifies your utter negation.

From there, we went on to Valle de la Luna, so named because its strange surfaces look like the moon from above. It was really quite stunning, especially as we got to hear the crackling of salt and mica layers contracting as the sun set which sounded almost like raindrops falling.

Finally, to watch the sun's final plunge, we climbed the Big Dune. Although there was a gigantic crowd of people, it was still a very intimate moment with nature. We sat quietly, humbled as the sun's descent painted a panorama of colors across the mountains and rocks, leaving purples, reds, yellows and blues so strong it appeared as if there were lakes. Quite simply put, it was phenomenal.