Typical of the highlands, the sun was blazing hot, yet I was wearing wool leggings and a down jacket. Life at 5,000 meters is such that the thin atmosphere allows UV to sunburn your skin without ever feeling the indicative glow of melanin production unable to keep up with the inundation of sunlight. In just a couple of hours, many gringos find that they have developed blistering burns, so sunscreen is applied several times throughout the day. The dry air drops below freezing at night, often dropping a light layer of snow and spikes to the 90's during the day. This inhospitable environment creates what must be a microbiologists playground, as the microorganism eaten by the flamingos thrive in such a niche.
The Bolivian immigration office was a bit 'backwoods'. However, it did make for an easy crossing as the officers glances haphazardly at our passports. Chile begins on the other side of the gate.
The bus stop (see photo above) at the immigration office consisted of a cob wall in the middle of nowhere. The yellow dust on the ground is crystallized sulfur, so the wait was complemented by the aromatic setting of the bus stop. The bus arrived after waiting a mere 30 minutes and we drove down the mountainside into San Pedro de Atacama, skipped through immigration and customs, landed in the center of town, decided we did not like the crowded, expensive (USA prices), dusty, hot town, and nabbed a bus leaving town in 15 minutes, wound up in a small but pleasant mining town, and bought bus tickets for a direct, 24 hour ride to Santiago that would leave in two hours. Woah, I think that run-on sentence is the only accurate way to convey our transfer between the Bolivian highlands and Santiago, Chile.
No comments:
Post a Comment