July 4th: Salar Day 3 + 1st day in Chile!

Wake up little snoozy, wake up
Ok, it was freezing cold in our dorm room, but I slept relatively good, thanks to the warm water bottle. Dale was not lying about his middle-aged man's bladder problems: throughout the night I heard him wake up and make his way to the bathrooms at the other end of the building in his pajamas 1...2...3...4 times. We wake up at 4AM, as planned, because we have a packed schedule and must make it to the Chilean border by 11AM, or miss our transfer to San Pedro de Atacama.

A steamy encounter
We have no breakfast until later, we must hurry to see the geysers before the day starts, they spout higher druing the night, when it's colder. Yes, even COLDER than it is right now. The car climbs for 25 minutes, then as the darkness of the night starts wearing off we stop next to our first fountain of gas. We're near 5000 metres and it's only -10C according to Christian, who says it can go over -20C at times. Most of us are too sleepy and cold to get out of the warm jeep, but I do it anyway. The geyser we're next to spouts continually and halding your hand in it is nice and warm. I take a runnng start and jump through it, the hot steam momentariliy crawling through all layers of my clothing. The smell is another story: The lava that powers geysers is so unversally stinky that people with sensitive noses in Pompei must have died before the lava got the better of them.

Thermal bathing at 4000 metres
After a few more camera snaps we jump back in the car and we start making our way down to the "Laguna Verde", where we'll have breakfast. Before that, the real adventurers amongst us (read: crazy carps) will have a chance to bathe in the heated pools just outside, while watching the sun come up. We arrive at the site first, but while I consider giving in to Blandine's urging me to get into the pool (It is a once-a-lifetime opportunity, Jan!), Felipe and Hannah have already plunged in and are enjoying themselves. They're both WAY under 30 and really skinny, so no big deal for them. I on the other hand am toying with the idea whether to show off my more mature, marble-coloured love handles to the onslaught of jeeps that is now pulling up to the breakfast site. English girls with rasta hair and colourful bathing suits jump in, as well as slender Japanese bodies in equally slender and plain swim wear, not to speak of big bearded middle-aged men with curly, bushy chest hair. The place is swamped before I my thoughts have time to crystallize. Nothing to prove here anymore, so I walk off.

Through the steamy fumes coming off the hot river-water downstream I spot a flock of birds walking on the iced-over river. The sun is trying to get over the mountain range in the distance, providing for one of the most spectacular sunrises I've ever witnessed in my life. Time to pull out my camera!

When I come back I see the cold mountain wind having heaps of fun cooling warmed-up bodies rising out of the hot water. The enjoyment of suspending your body in hot water after two days of cold water and freezing nights is short-lived, the frowns and shivers on the bathers who try to dry themselves in record time doesn't lie. Pictures of these shrivelled up bodyparts wols provide excellent blackmail material, if only I knew anybody left in the water. Disappointed, I make my way up to the restaurant, where a huge homemade fruit cake awaits me. Wilma's really outdone herself, and I see the envious eyes of all the other tourists on the tables around us lure at it. So I cut myself a huge slice and eat it ostentatiously, commenting on its supreme taste. Hannah comments how hot it is inside this room, she's all warmed upnow that she's come out of the water. Felipe tells in his best Brazilian-Spanish about the pool experience, his eyes glisten. Blanca smiles and listens, Dale is too tired to chat and concentrates on his tea instead. It's the last meal we'll have together.

Feeling Chili
After breakfast we drive up to the Chilean border, a cold, barren mountain-top in the middle of nowhere. We say goodbye to everybody but Dale, as he is traveling to Chile as well. Felipe gives us his email address and invites us over to Brazil any time we want. That's really sweet. We walk in to the customs office, the cold wind sneering around our ears. The Bolivian customs officer tells me that he's out here for a month, and tells us we're a 24-hour bus ride away from La Paz, where he lives. Poor guy.
Within 15 minutes the bus we have tickets on shows up, and we make our way down to San Pedro de Atacama, at 2400 metres above sea level. The 40-minute trip from the border crossing to the customs office in San Pedro de Atacama is comfortable, it's asphalted road and - just like our stress levels - going seriously downhill. Dale sits a few seats ahead of us and has found a new audience: a Dutch-English couple are amused by his introduction and stories. I eavsdrop a bit because I have nothing else to do: They're the same stories he's told us over the last few days. I look at Blandine and grin. She apparently heard him tal as well and mutters under her breath:  "No more contact with Dale!" I know, I know. He's a nice guy, but neither of us have a need to hear more about his blatter. I concentrate on the amazing landscape instead.

San Perro de Cacatama
This cute little village is like a cute version of a frontier town. The main street has a big saloon-like feel to it, though the sand-blown streets are filled with wild dogs rather than wild horses. Dog turds are scattered around, waiting for shape themselves after an innocuous tourist shoesole. Not mine, I keep my eyes locked to the street as much as possible. Any moment I expect a guy to jump out of one of the bars, guns out of his holster, challenging me to an OK Corral reprise. But the sun is climbing and even the dogs don't flinch when two Europeans carrying huge backpacks walk by. There must be more dogs than people in this place. Blandine whistles at all dogs, but when they finally come over, she shoes them off, scared to get a disease. Women!

We finally decide on a hostel on the outskirts of town, still in shock at the huge price hike on accomodation. The hostel room costs easily 3 times what we paid for a hostel room in Bolivia. Is it because we're in the middle of the desert and everything must be imported? Who knows.  Until now we've been good and stayed under budget, but Chile may just smoke our good spending intentions. You can tell we've arrived in Chile, down to the smallest details. The toilets have toilet paper, the bathrooms have heavenly hot water. We decide to rest a bit, the early morning wake-up has knocked the wind out of our sails.

SPACE, the final frontier...for comedy!
When we wake up it's 4PM, time to explore our new surroundngs a bit more. Within an hour we have eaten a 3-course meal (the best option is to go for the daily menu, in this case 5000 pesos per person) and booked ourselves on  the SPACE tour (San Pedro de Atacama Celestial Explorations).

The fancy SPACE tour bus takes us outside town, to what seems like a provate residence. We are greeted by an English woman, who introduces us to her French husband. He's an astronomer in the truest sense of the word, very knowledgeable about space. Okay, I must take that back, because he also has a good sense of humour. He takes us outside and with the help of a laser pointer that seems to go all the way to the stars that he wants us to focus on, he makes us explore the celestial sky of the southern hemisphere. The tour is a success, though Blandine gets rather cold and we decide to make it back inside the house for a welcome cup of hot chocolate. At the end of the tour, the astrologer opens the floor for questions. A girl frm the audience asks: "So, erhm, how can we best prepare for the impact of a metronome?". The host graciously states Ah, you must mean a meteorite", then launches into a 15 inute explanation, before the audience has a chance to explode into laughter. It's the most humourous mistake I've heard all day, it even tops the girl I overheard this afternoon, saying You know like, my mom is a bit clueless, you know. She just wished me a good time in the desert of Anaconda....Mothers, I tell you!