Petroglyphs and Valle del Arcoiris

immortalgeisha.com

Ok, before I start on this story, you need to get a good visual in your head. First of all, nights get cold in San Pedro.  Really cold.  Also, climate control is not a common feature in Chile (especially not in budget hostels).  So we were really bundled up at night.  For me, that included long underwear, an undershirt, my flannel pajamas, my winter coat, and my hat and gloves.  It was about the same for Scott, except he had an additional item:  an authentic monogrammed Japanese kimono that he had gotten during his stay in that country.  While I don't have a picture of the real thing, you can check out this photo I got from an online catalog.  Scott's is pretty similar (just imagine a large "R" on the left breast."

My story starts in the wee hours of the morning.  Remember how we wanted to go to bed early to get rested up for our tour the next day?  Well, our room happened to be right next to the courtyard of the hostel.  Up until now, it hadn't really been much of a problem (there were a couple times we had to go out to ask people to quiet down, but that pretty much settled things).  This night, however, a new group of kids from Santiago had just arrived.  They started drinking on the patio around 10 and were being a bit loud, but we didn't do anything because that isn't really too late for this culture.  By midnight, though, they still hadn't quieted down, and in fact only seemed to be getting louder.  We waited another half an hour or so, hoping they'd tire themselves out soon.  That didn't happen, so I went out to ask them to please be quiet.  It was a small group--three girls and two guys.  I asked (in Spanish) as politely as I could, although I can't say that I was at my best--I was cold and tired and also had a sore throat (probably from inhaling so much sand!).  The girls gave me a weird look, but one of the guys agreed to quiet down.  I thanked them and went back to the room.  They were quiet for about three minutes, after which they started talking and laughing even more loudly than before.

This time, Scott offered to go out.  Even though he doesn't know much Spanish, we hoped that maybe they could intimidate them more than I could.  Turned out, they spoke English!  He asked them why they hadn't quieted down when I asked, and one of the girls said that I was mean and demanded that they be quiet instead of nicely asking.  She said that she felt that I had no respect for other people.  Of course, you all know how mean and disrespectful I am.  Oh, well; at least the girls seemed more receptive to Scott's request.  In fact, all of them somehow managed to get into some philosophical discussions about the state of the world.  Scott found this a bit odd, given the time, but soon realized why.  While they had begun drinking around 10, they had only recently gotten high.  Their compromised state, along with the interesting night-ware Scott had, led them to believe that he was a monk.

Of course, who better to discuss philosophy with than a monk!  Apparently, the girls though he was a pretty attractive monk, as well.  They couldn't get enough of his outfit, and even made him turn around so they could see all of it.  They must have been quite impressed, because they then invited him to come and smoke and stargaze with them.  He politely declined, explaining our plans for the tour the next day.  Disappointed but with a great respect for their wise new friend, they told Scott not worry about the noise, as they were off to a party soon anyways.  Sure enough, they were on their way within 15 minutes.  Plus, Scott had some new friends--the one girl was very excited to greet him the next time she saw him (although understandably disappointed about his lack of kimono).

Thanks to my valiant monk, we managed to eventually fall asleep and get enough rest for our next day's adventures.  It was the only tour we did the whole trip (we hadn't realized that attractions were so far away from the town, and hadn't budgeted enough to go on all the "hot" tours).  We decided to opt for the Valle de Arcoiris tour.  This one was actually probably one of the least popular (the most popular are the Geysers of Tatio, Laguna de Cejar, and sandboarding), but we found it the most intriguing.  When we had gone the day before to the tour agency to sign up, they had asked if we wanted it to be in English or Spanish, and we chose English.  Interestingly, when the van arrived to pick us up at the hostel, their "English" sure sounded a lot like Spanish.  Turns out when they asked about our language preference, they were asking how we wanted the packages explained to us at the agency.  They had never inquired about our preference for the actual tour.  More practice for my translation skills, I guess!

The tour group was small; in fact, there was only one other couple signed up.  Then there was the driver, the tour guide, and two of their friends.  The guide also happened to be the son of the owner of the tour agency.  He did speak some English, but it ended up just being easier for me to explain to Scott afterwards.  The other couple pretty much kept to themselves, but the guide and his friends were really nice!  One of the guys was there visiting for the weekend from his job as a engineer for a mining company up north.  He was so excited about all the geology and geography of the area!  He actually studied English at Duoc!  Unfortunately, he hadn't gotten much practice since, so he could only do basic words and phrases.  I was kind of disappointed, because he really wanted to discuss geography, and I don't really know that much about it.  He would have loved to talk to Scott about it!  I tried a bit to interpret for them, but things were too technical for me to follow very well.  He was still really interesting to talk to.  It's so fun to meet people who are passionate about what they do, and about life in general!

On the way to see the petroglyphs, we had to take a short pit stop because of a group of llamas in the road.  We took it as a photo opp, although Scott wasn't too excited about getting too close to the llamas.  Said something about them being like giant sheep.  Once the path cleared up, we were back on our way to Yerbas Buenas, where the largest collection of petroglyphs in the area can be found.  But first, it was time for breakfast!  We stopped at the entrance to the park, and unpacked at the picnic tables nearby.  The breakfast was included in the tour, and was actually much better than we expected!  It included fresh bread and sliced meat and cheese for sandwiches.  We also got some fresh fruit and juice, and of course, coffee and tea.  We took the opportunity to talk to and get to know about our travel companions.  There were even some entertaining attempts at English from them (and Spanish from us)!

After breakfast and a quick bathroom break, we started off on the path to see the petroglyphs.  They range in age from the beginning of inhabitation of the valley to almost present day.  Unfortunately, I don't remember much of the information given during the tour, and I can't seem to find any information about the area on the internet.  I do know that the area was believed to be a meeting-place for shamans from all over South America, even as far away as Brazil!  This is because of the presence of some strange petroglyphs, such as a palm tree (not usually seen in the desert), and even of a monkey--the closest of which would be found in Brazil.  There are two theories as to how such unusual petroglyphs came to be found in the middle of the most arid desert in the world.

The first theory, like I said before, is that the area was a meeting place for all the shamans in South America.  Some tribal traditions state that every two or three years, the shamans had to make a pilgrimmage to a sacred place to share their visions and ritual techniques with each other.  Of course, regular citizens never knew exactly where this sacred place was, and the shamans weren't about to disclose, so San Pedro is as good a guess as any.  Perhaps some shamans gave from Brazil and shared stories of the fantastic huge palm trees and strange monkeys that inhabited their lands, demonstrating them by drawing on the rock walls.

Another theory is that only local shamans used the area, but were able to "travel" to Brazil with their minds.  It is common practice among the shamans here to ingest hallucinagenic plants and go into a trance-like state during which it is believed that can see anything they wish.  Actually, according to our guide, this theory was recently put to the test when a scientist attempted to disprove a local shaman's claims that he could travel in his mind to places that he had never been to in real life.  The scientist sat in his bedroom in Europe and spoke to the shaman via telephone in South America.  The scientist had a photo album with him, but upon request by the shaman, he chose one to place on the pillow of the bed.  Of the dozens of photos in the album (none of which the shaman had ever seen either), he correctly guessed that the photo on the bed was of the scientist's cousin.  That was enough proof for the scientist, who no longer questioned the claim that native shamans in Chile could have "traveled" in their minds to Brazil, bringing back images of the exotic species there to etch on their own walls.  I guess it's up to you to decide which, if either, of the stories you believe.  Either way, the monkey is pretty cute!

After checking out a few more petroglyphs, we piled back into the van and headed towards the main attraction: Valle del Arcoiris (Rainbow Valley).  It's name comes from the magnificent variety of colors that can be seen in the rocks covering the hills in the area.  The unique blend comes from the fact that the valley is actually the inside of a volcano.  Many thousands of years ago (millions, even), the valley was actually a large, active volcano.  The earth being as young as it was, it was still quite prone to violent tantrums and one day decided that a large-scale earthquake was in order.  The earthquake was so destructive, in fact, that it knocked the volcano completely on its side, splitting it wide open and spilling its contents across the valley.  There are some rocks that look like "traditional" volcanic rock, but most of them are completely unique due to the strange nature of their release.  So, not only did I get to experience a wonderful, picturesque valley, I can now also say that I have been inside of a volcano.  How often can you do that?

Also in the valley are some of the tallest cacti in the desert.  Apparently, the tallest one measured was 40 feet tall!  We didn't manage to find that one, but we were pretty impressed with the ones we did find.  Most of the tallest ones were out of climbing distance, so we had to settle with taking a photo next to one of the "baby" ones.  He was only about 15 feet tall.  There were also all sorts of interesting, strange plants and flowers.  While the other group members were taking photos of themselves jumping around, I was attempting to get the perfect photo of this small, spiky cactus-flower.  It was very strange and very intriguing.  The photo doesn't show very well just how small it was, either--about the size of my thumb nail!  Too bad books are so expensive here--I could have taken one and pressed it as a souvenir!  Next time!

Once everyone had their fill of rainbow rocks and crazy photos, we got back into the van for our ride back into town.  Everyone was very excited to talk about what they had seen, and at first we listened to some good Chilean music and chatted.  However, the road got long and the seats got comfortable, and pretty soon everyone (except the driver, I hope) was fast asleep.  The ride back took about an hour and a half--the perfect amount of time for a nice, refreshing nap!  When we arrived back in town, we said our goodbyes and everyone was dropped off at their respective places of lodging.  We had been a bit wary of taking any tour at all, but this one turned out to be a great experience!  And we even made a couple friends along the way.

Valle de la Muerte

When we woke up on Sunday, we felt that our legs had healed sufficiently from our first bike ride to give it one more go.  We had slept in a bit more than expected (probably due to the hiking a lot more than expected the day before), so by the time we got to the bike shop we had rented from before, there weren't any bikes left.  We found another one around the corner, but they were charging almost twice as much for less time!  We forwent that option, and went to a couple other shops, which were also sold out for the day.  We were about to give up when we came across a tiny shop in the back corner of the village.  The signs were very old and faded, and we weren't even sure it was open because the doors were all closed.  As we walked by, a couple came out of the building with some bikes, talking to the woman about how to pay.  They seemed like pretty satisfied customers, so we took a shot an inquired about renting bikes.

The woman told us that she only had one mountain bike left, but she also had one old, "strange" bike that she could let us use.  Not quite sure what a "strange" bike was, we agreed to rent anyways and figured we'd find out soon enough.  It turned out to be a great stroke of luck, because the rental rates at this place were about half the price of the place we had rented from on the first day.  And apparently, a "strange" bike is a hybrid, which is actually what I prefer anyway!  Leaning forward so much on the mountain bikes always makes me sore (well, more sore than usual).  Also, the hybrid bike was gold and sparkly, so it was pretty much the best thing ever.  The only thing that worried me a bit about this shop was that it was required that I leave my Chilean ID card at the store until we returned the bike.  It had been a bit of a hassle getting that card in the first place, and I didn't want to have to go through the process again.  I reluctantly handed over the card, and we began our journey into the desert.

Armed with the map we had received from the original bike shop, we headed out of town towards Valle de la Muerte (Death Valley).  After some initial difficulty with the bikes (we eventually figured out that the gears were set backwards), we rode down the main highway leading back to Calama.  The first stretch was a bit rough because it was all uphill, but we were rewarded with an excellent curving hill  to speed down on the final leg into the desert.  We came to a sign indicating the direction to Valle de la Muerte, and took a quick water break.  It was here that we discovered why it is called "Death Valley."

Scott was a bit disappointed that someone else had come upon the feast before we did, but we settled for some cookies as a snack and continued on our way.  Along the route we saw many people carrying sandboards, and lamented that we had forgotten to ask for one at the rental shop.  The interior of Valle de la Muerte has some huge sand dunes, perfect for sand surfing.  The ride to the dunes was supposed to take around 15 minutes, but as usual, we got distracted on the way.  The path to the dunes is surrounded on all side by large, solid sand and salt formations.  In one of them, Scott found an intriguing cave and had to investigate.

The view from our perch.  Notice the biker in the distance.

It turned out that the cave was not so much a cave but more a tunnel leading into a maze of sand formations. Obviously, we had to explore.  We left our bikes in the cave and climbed through.  On the other end we found a cluster of tall, formidable formations that just needed to be climbed.  We were a bit wary, unsure if the sand was stable enough to support the weight of people, so we proceeded slowly.  After ascending a few feet with no ill effects, we realized that the formations were much more solid than we expected.  We actually managed to climb all the way to the top of one of them.  It turned out to be the perfect place to spy on the people down on the path below.  It's quite interesting that people rarely ever look up, even when surrounded by impressive, towering structures.  We must have sat up there for about 15 minutes and saw dozens of people pass by, and not one looked at us.  Not even the girl who nearly fell off her bike after we accidentally started a small rock-slide in our attempt to re-position ourselves!

Once we'd had our fill (for the moment) of spying on other tourists, we climbed back down and through the tunnel and continued our journey.  We arrived to the dunes fairly quickly once we stopped getting distracted by caves and tunnels!  Unfortunately, sand dunes are not built for bikes, so we were a bit stuck.  We tried to bike through the sand, but it's not quite as elegant as it might seem.  A girl noticed our struggled and told us that there was a large rock behind which most people left their bikes while they went sandboarding.  Sure enough, there was a huge pile!  We decided to join the crowd, and left ours there as well.  However, that was about as far as our crowd-following desires went.

While everyone else headed to the right where the large sand dunes were, we veered left to another cluster of large sand formations.  It had been about half an hour since we had climbed anything, so obviously that meant that we had to find something new to climb, and quick!  Luckily, there is no lack of tall, strange structures in the Atacama desert.  We chose the tallest, steepest one we could find and began our ascent.  As we climbed, I was reminded of that common elementary school math problem--"if an ant is stuck in a foot-deep well and climbs up three inches every day but slides down one inch every night, how long will it take him to climb out of the well?"  I remember hating those kinds of problems, and wondering when I would ever need to use them.  Well, thank you Mrs. Murray, for making me do my math because now I understand.  Except that it seemed here that we climbed and fell at equal rates, indicating that we would never reach the summit.

I decided to take a different approach, and began to zig-zag back and forth.  This technique didn't prove much more efficient than the straight-up approach until I zagged right into a group of rocks that allowed me to get more of a hand-hold.  Unfortunately, the rocks weren't rooted very far into the sand, so I ended up just throwing most of them straight down the hill.  Eventually, I figured out that they could support my weight for about a second before breaking free, so as long as I planned my route and climbed quickly, I should be able to make it.  Aside from a few minor miscalculations (that resulted mostly in a lot of sand in my face), my approach worked quite well until the rocks ran out.  The last few feet up to the top were pure, loose sand.  I honestly don't know how I made it up that part, but I did.  I also don't really know how Scott managed to make it up at all, because he seemed to go straight up!  Even with all my zigs and zags, though, we both reached the peak at about the same time.

Then we realized that we would have to figure out how to get down.  I have to say that it's been great to find a partner who enjoys the same sort of things I do, like spontaneous rock climbing.  Unfortunately, another thing we both have in common is a lack of planning.  I guess that's something we're going to have to work on, eventually.  For the time being, however, we just enjoyed the view.  

The picture does not do justice to the view!  Or the elevation!  I tried to take a picture that would show just how high and steep the slope was, but nothing turned out.  Just trust me, it was scary.  Although I must say I'm doing a pretty good job seeming relaxed in the photo, no?  Also notice how much darker I am in this photo than in the one from day one.  Yes, this is me with a tan.  I know, so gringa...

Anyway, we relaxed at the top of the peak for a while, trying to decide the best way to get back down.  As we pondered, we watched the sandboarders in the dunes below.  We talked about maybe going back into town and renting boards ourselves to try it out later.  Assuming, of course, that we ever figured out how to get out of our current predicament.  And then it dawned on us--we could do both things, right now!  What better way to get off a high sand structure than to surf?  True, we didn't have any boards (or really anything at all), but we could improvise!  Searching around, we found the slope with the least amount of rocks and other sharp objects, and prepared ourselves for the descent.  Scott went first.

All I know is that there was a lot of yelling and a lot of sand in my face.  For a second, I wondered if he had fallen into a hole or gotten sucked into the sand!  Once the dust cleared and I got most of the sand out of my face, I looked down to see a very dirty, but very proud, Scott standing at the bottom of the hill.  Now it was my turn.  I was a bit tentative at first, and tried to get off to a slow start.  The sand had other ideas.  All of a sudden I was sliding down at what seemed like hundreds of miles per hour, with sand and dust billowing to all sides.  I couldn't see much of anything, and just hoped that I was continuing in a straight line, and not into the sharp formations to either side.  After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably less than a second, I caught my balance and managed to get into a pretty good surfing position.  Back in control, the rest of the way down was actually pretty fun!  Although I ended up picking sand out of places where sand really shouldn't be for about a week afterwards.  Totally worth it, though!

A bit tired out from our adventure, we decided to take a quick rest at the bottom of the dunes to watch the sandboarders.  We were almost tempted to see if we could join in, but found it much more entertaining to watch people wipe out.  There were some pretty spectacular face-plants!  In the end, we decided that our surfing experience was much better, anyway!  Although not quite as entertaining in terms of falls.  After our break, we noticed that a tour group had stopped at the top of the next dune so we quietly walked over to see if we could join in unnoticed.  I'm not sure that we were unnoticed, but we weren't sent away, so we stayed by an listened.  The tour was almost over, but we did learn one interesting tidbit--the name of the valley is not actually it's intended name!

The valley was discovered by a French Jesuit explorer who thought that the area looked like the surface of Mars (this was before we had actual photos of Mars, of course).  The sand does have quite a red hue, and the formations are quite unique, so this is definitely understandable.  Why, then, do we currently call it "Death Valley?"  Well, as we all know, French people have strange accents.  So, when the explorer told the Spanish-speakers of Chile what he had discovered, calling it "Valle de Martes" (Mars Valley), they heard "Valle de Muerte" (Death Valley).  Once word got around, the name stuck and there was nothing the explorer could do to change it.  The guide did assure us that there have been no recorded deaths in the valley (apparently our friend at the entrance doesn't count).

Relieved to know this, we once again went off on our own for a bit more exploring.  We took an easier route this time, and had no trouble climbing up or down.  Eventually, the sun started to set and it began to get cold very quickly.  I hadn't expected to be gone so long, so I'd left my sweatshirt down by the bikes.  Luckily, Scott is very much a gentleman and let me borrow his.  We hurried a lot more on the way back (when it gets cold in the desert, it gets cold).  By the time we got back to the bikes, there was just enough sunlight left to get us back into town.  We watched the sun set as we rode home. 

When we got back to the bike shop, my fears were realized when the woman couldn't find my ID card.  She had a bait box full of them, but mine was nowhere to be found.  She searched the entire desk, but to no avail.  She even went next door and searched that desk, but with no luck.  I was about ready to throw in the towel and just say, "forget about it," when she reached into her pocket.  Guess what she found there.  Yep, my ID card!  Whew!  I really was not looking forward to waiting in line at Registro Civil again!

We headed back to the hostel, ate a quick dinner, and collapsed into bed, exhausted from our adventures.  Plus, we had planned to take a tour the next day and wanted to make sure we got enough rest to get to the bus on time.  Unfortunately, the other guests at the hotel had a different idea.

Pukara de Quitor Ruins

Atacameño Warrior

After our longer-than-expected bike ride the day before, we decided to take it a bit easier the next day.  When we rented the bikes, we had initially been trying to get to some ruins that the owner of the store pointed us to (but of course, we're in Chile, so we were pointed in the wrong direction).  Luckily, we had since had time to find some of the landmarks on our map and figured out which direction to actually go.  We also figured out that the ruins were only 3 km away--we wouldn't even have to bike (our unaccustomed legs were a bit sore after our day one adventure)!

After another breakfast of toast and fruit, we slathered ourselves in sunscreen (something we had neglected the day before--notice the difference in skin shades between day 1 and later pictures), and headed into town to get some water.  Scott is very good at pretending he understands things, so when I sent him in to buy the water, I forgot that he couldn't read the labels.  Only after we started walking (and shaking up the bottles) did we realize that he had accidentally gotten carbonated water!  We both lost a good portion of it when we stopped for our first water break.  At least it was refreshing to get splashed in the face...

It was nice to have a relaxing, relatively flat walk over to the ruins.  We were also quite glad that we had decided not to rent bikes, because there were only two types of terrain on the path--deep sand and sticky mud.  Luckily, there were also lots of large rocks that made it easy to navigate these obstacles by foot.  It was also quite entertaining watching the tourists who did rent bikes try to get through.  I think we passed the same group of people two or three times--they'd pass us by on easy terrain but get caught up by sand or mud just long enough for us to catch up with them and continue the cycle.

As we walked, we talked about our plans for the future.  In case you haven't heard, Scott is on his way to England to teach middle/ high school for the next couple years.  I have 5 more months left on my contract here in Chile, and then I have no idea what I'm going to do!  I'm thinking of getting a "real" teaching degree (I just have TEFL right now), so I'm working on figuring out the prerequisites for that.  Of course, England has some of the most demanding requirements!  We also talked about wanting to one day start our own business.  Now we just have to figure out what kind of business.  Our ideas include art, education, and popcorn.  I think we should just roll them all into one.  Also, sheep.

Stampede!

Speaking of sheep, I forgot to include this awesome photo we took on our way back yesterday--there was a traffic jam on the road into town, and we couldn't figure out why (there really isn't a high population concentration in San Pedro, especially since it's the low season right now).  We wove our way through the buses and trucks stopped on the road and discovered the reason: Sheep/ goat stampede!  Followed by three large sheep dogs and one very tiny, very fluffy dog.  The fluffy one took his job very seriously and was quite aggressive when we got too close to his goats!

Anyways, after about a half and hour, we came to a large, forbidding hill that looked formidable even before we could see the fortress climbing its sides.  This one is called Pukara de Quitor, "pukara" being the indigenous word for "fort," and "Quitor" being the name of the closest village.  The ruins are not in the best shape (it doesn't look like much conservation/ restoration has been attempted), but even with just the skeleton of the the structures visible, one can imagine why the ancient Atacameños chose this site for its strategic location.  The site has a very long (and of course violent) history.  It was originally constructed in the 12th century by some of the original inhabitants of the Atacama desert (theories vary, but it is estimated that the Atacama desert was first inhabited by hunter-gatherers around 9000 B.C., and that permanent settlements began to arise around 1500 B.C.).

Though Chile was conquered by the Incas and then the Spaniards, this impressive fortress predates both.  It is perfectly located on a cliff next to the San Pedro river, making it the perfect location for the collection of essential resources.   The position of the fortress atop the cliff makes it nearly impregnable (until, of course, more sophisticated technology is introduced, but we'll get to that later).  The fort was built during a period of conflict between various indigenous groups in the region caused by a growth in population and lack of resources in the most arid place in the world.  New tools and technology had allowed the people to exploit areas which were previously undervalued, such as the cliff where the Pukara de Quitor was built.  It was originally built as a purely defensive structure by the San Pedro group of people to protect them in the conflict against the Tiwanaku people, but eventually was used as a place of settlement as well.

Pukara de Quitor Ruins

The site is deceptively large, and divided into different sections according to intended use.  The exposed side of the cliff near the river is the defensive area.  The structures on that side are irregular and seem to have no pattern to their arrangement.  Although we couldn't find any information about this at the site (or on the internet), we wondered if this may have been to confuse the enemy if he ever managed to get inside of the structure.  There were paths that seemed to go right into walls, or straight off the other side of the cliff.  This may be due to the age and damage of the ruins, but maybe it was also how the builders planned the structure--to tire out the enemy before they even came into combat?  I'd love to find out more information, but like I said, cannot find much more than basic information on the site.  If anyone knows more, I'd love to hear about it!

In the middle of the fortress are large storehouses and stables for supplies and animals.  The first animals were domesticated in the area around 1000 B.C.  Plants were also domesticated around this time, but there is not much evidence that the Atacameños grew anything in the fortress (considering it is built out of rocks, on top of a rock, this may have been quite difficult).  There is, however, evidence of cultivation closer to the river, giving more credence to the theory that the fortress also served as a permanent residence.  Other evidence that the site was used for residence is the presence of "houses" on the far side of the structure.  These "houses" are more like small apartments terraced right up the cliff.  Each has a relatively large living area (about the size of a large American bedroom), and a smaller room near the entrance that is believed to have been used for storage or cooking (perhaps both!).  As we walked through the ruins, I tried to imagine what it would have been like to live in this place, while Scott tried to imagine what it would have been like to fight there (a testament to our opposite personalities?).

The view of the San Pedro River from atop the fortress

The Atacama region, along with the Pukara fortress, was conquered by the Inca around 1450 A.D.  They never actually settled the area, but did insist on assimilating the cultures they conquered and using the structures built by them.  The fort was used on a few occasions by the Inca and their allies to fight off enemies in the area who were attempting to interfere with their new road network.  This is about as far south as the Incas reached, and they held the area for less than a century before they were themselves conquered by the Spaniards.  The Spanish decimated the indigenous population, leaving the fortress abandoned for centuries until it was declared a Chilean National Monument in 1982.  Like I said, I'm not sure how much research has been done about the site, as it has been difficult for me to find more information on it.  It is maintained and run by the people of the Quitor village, descendants of the original Atacameños trying to preserve their cultural history.

Behind the ruins is a trail that curves around the side of another hill, leading up to a modern monument for the indigenous people of the Atacama desert.  We were told that the vista from atop the monument was one of the best in the region, so we decided to take a quick hike up there before heading back into town for the night.  Although it ended up being more than a quick hike, it was definitely worth the trip!  We were welcomed to the vista by a beautiful archway through which we were given a glimpse of the great view ahead.  From the top of the hill, we could see all the surrounding mountains, the river flowing for miles in both directions, and even Valle de la Muerte!  And we timed it perfectly so that we could see the sunset as we climbed down.  Even though our "easy" day hadn't turned out quite so easy, it was definitely memorable!

Biking Adventures

As tired as we were from our adventures traveling the previous day, we decided just to sleep in and see how things went when we got up.  We ended up sleeping until about 11:00 am.  We probably could have slept longer, but I think the worker at the hostel noticed us shuffling around and knocked on the door to see if we wanted breakfast.  She was such a sweet lady during our whole stay, and I feel kind of bad because I don't even know her name!  I'm not even sure I ever knew what it was.  But she knew mine from day 1 and was always helping me out and chatting.  She is actually from Bolivia--I think she has gone back now, too.  She comes to San Pedro for three months at a time (the time of a tourist visa) to get short jobs at hotels and such to earn money to send back to her family.  Anyways, she insisted on making us breakfast, and wouldn't even let me make my own coffee!  We were surprised that the hostel included breakfast--I had thought that I had read that it did at some point during the reservation process, but I wasn't counting on it, especially at the price for the room.  But it did, and it was actually pretty good (in size at least)--We were each served six (yes, 6) pieces of toast with butter and jam, an entire package of saltine crackers, a large bowl of fruit salad, and unlimited amounts of coffee and tea.  Not the most exciting breakfast, but definitely filling and a good start for an active day. 

After consuming as much breakfast as we could manage, we headed into town to see what sorts of things we could do.  We discovered that most of the most famous "San Pedro" attractions are actually located between one and four hours away, so unless you have your own car or are in incredibly good shape, the only good way to see them is to pay for a tour company to take you.  Of course, the companies take great advantage of this fact, and many of the tours are quite expensive (I believe the cheapest one I saw was $16 for a 2-hour excursion to an attraction that turned out to be only 2 km away from the village in the first place).  We decided to do a little more research on the tours before committing to one, and instead thought we might explore the area ourselves at first.  We found one of the more well-know bicycle-rental shops in town on the main street and went for a half-day rental ($7 for 6 hours).  We'd initially thought we would head towards Valle de la Luna or the ruins that were supposed to be nearby, so the worker at the shop gave us a map and pointed us in the right direction.

He actually should have pointed us to the left, because we headed off in the completely opposite direction of the ruins.  I have absolutely zero sense of direction, so I just went with it.  Scott did say some things about the sun being in the wrong place in the sky considering where we were supposed to be headed, but it all sounded Greek to me (and he mistakenly believed that I had actually understood the directions given to me by the worker), so we continued in the same direction away from San Pedro until we came to a highway.  This was the first time we had really seen the mountains without a ton of buildings or smog blocking them, so we stopped to take some pictures.  We were beginning to get a bit nervous that we had misunderstood our directions, so while we were stopped, we pulled out the map and tried to figure out where we were.  Unfortunately, there is a sad lack of large landmarks in the desert, so this turned out to be a much more difficult task than we had anticipated.

Luckily, a passing taxi driver noticed our confused looks and stopped to ask us where we were headed.  We said we didn't really know, so he took the opportunity to suggest that we head towards Laguna Cejar and pointed us into the direction of the salt lake (which happened to be in the exact opposite direction of where we actually intended to go, but were in the same direction that we were actually heading).  We couldn't find the lake on our map, but we figured that if a taxi driver couldn't be trusted to tell us where things were, no one could.  We got back up and headed out into the desert.  It is at this point that we discovered that bikes are not really meant to be ridden in the desert.  Especially not on sand dunes.  After a couple minutes of trying, we were forced to get off the bikes and walk them across the sandy stretch until we reached the next road.  

At that road, we decided that going to the right was as good a choice as any (mostly because the sun was shining from the other direction, and even with sunglasses it was pretty blinding).  After about fifteen minutes, we saw a sign on a road that forked off of the one we were on, and headed over to check it out.  It indicated that we should follow a dirt path to get to Laguna Cejar, or that we could continue on a paved one to get to "Beter."  Since the Laguna was mostly an attraction for swimming and we didn't have our suits, we decided to check out this other attraction and see what it had to offer.  I'd remembered reading an article a few days before about "hidden gem" villages around San Pedro, and I though I'd remembered something with a name like "Beter" on it.  We figured it might be fun to head to a "quaint, little town," on our first day and get a view of the authentic life in the desert.   

So we headed out towards the mountains and pedaled away.  And then some more.  And a bit more.  We were beginning to get a bit discouraged because it seemed like we were just going around in circles.  Up ahead we saw that the road was blocked, and as we got closer, we noticed that there was a large "Do Not Pass" sign, along with another that noted that the detour was back in the direction that we had just come from.  We were about to give up and just go back to the town when we noticed that there was a small dirt path off to the right of the road.  A bit further down on the path was another sign indicating an attraction, so we followed the path to see what the sign said.  It said "Beter," so our hopes were once again awakened and we continued on, feeling that it couldn't be too much further to our destination.

Soon the road began to wind excessively, and we even rode through a small "forest" (or the closest you can get in the middle of the desert).  At the other end of the forest was a barbed-wire fence and a small, deserted (although very new-looking) house.  There didn't seem to be anything else in any direction for miles.  It was starting to get late and we knew that it would start to get cold soon, so we decided to end our search for the mysterious quaint town and head back to San Pedro for dinner.  Of course, before we could go we had to stop for a water break and photo opportunity.  Turning around to get a better view of the forest we had just passed through, guess what we saw?  Yep, welcome to Beter!

San Pedro de Atacama

So, the plan was to write about San Pedro as I was there, but I got a little distracted.  Also, the internet was not the most reliable in the world, so you probably would have ended up with some interestingly disjointed entries (although that's probably not too different from what you get now!).  Anyways, so I'm going to at least try to get down some of the trip today, because tomorrow we're off on another adventure to Easter Island!  This trip will only be for 4 days (we lucked out being able to go at all; it's usually prohibitively expensive just to even get there), but I'm excited nonetheless.

Anyway, back to San Pedro.  We had reserved a shuttle to get us to the airport for our 11:20 flight, but when you reserve, they ask you only what time the flight leaves, not what time you want to be picked up.  Consequently, their reservation system slotted us to be picked up at 8:00 for an arrival time at the airport of 9:30--I guess they want to be safe in case of any delays or anything, but we were actually the last group to be picked up on that shuttle so we got to the airport around 8:40.  That was fine--the benches were actually pretty comfortable so we could rest a bit before our flight.  There was even an awesome shop called "Britt Shop Chile"--I felt quite honored!  It's a coffee/chocolate company, and they were offering free samples of both in the store, so we even got a nice breakfast while we waited. 

We walked around and checked out the other shops for a bit, then decided to find our gate.  Originally, we were scheduled to leave from the bottom floor.  We left during one of the coldest days in Santiago, and for some reason, many of the doors on that level were left open.  Let's just say it wasn't the most relaxing place to try to take a nap.  Even Scott had to get all bundled up!  Luckily, they soon changed the gate and we moved upstairs where it was a little warmer.  We even got to sit next to a Dunkin' Donuts and enjoy the delicious scents of fresh doughnuts.  That didn't last too long, either, and soon it was announced that the gate was changed once again.  At least we were getting some exercise that morning!  We were getting a bit nervous because by the last gate change, it was only about 10 minutes until the flight was scheduled to take off.  But we got to the gate and there was still a large crowd milling around (in a nice, straight line, of course.  This is Chile), so we didn't worry too much.   There were no more announcements, but no one seemed to be too concerned so we grabbed a coffee and sat down to wait.  Finally, about 10 minutes after our scheduled departure time, there was an announcement that the flight had been delayed.  Oh, well; that just gave us more time to enjoy the coffees.  Another half hour later (and with everyone still in nice line formation) another announcement was made that we were to go to yet another new gate.  Oh, and hurry, because this time we really mean it--we're leaving SOON!  Of course the new gate was about as far away from the current one as it was possible to get in this airport. Everyone got out of line and headed to the new gate.  This time, the line was not as orderly as the original.  We lined up to show our boarding tickets, and were then herded onto a line of buses waiting to transport us out to the plane.  We were on the last bus, and by the time we got on the plane, it was nearly 1:00.  We were definitely ready for a nice, relaxing flight to San Pedro.

Unfortunately, the wind had different ideas.  The entire flight was incredibly turbulent--which was especially fun because there seemed to be more than the usual number of infants and first-time fliers on this flight.  Of course, every time we hit a patch of turbulence, the babies began to cry and there were great shouts and screams from the newbies.  At least it wasn't as bad as my flight into Santiago, when the man behind me was so nervous that he kept grabbing the back of my head.  Even with all the delays and distractions, we successfully made it to Calama by about 3:00.  Of course, we still had an hour ride to get to San Pedro itself.  We could have gotten a taxi into the town center of Calama and then taken the city bus to San Pedro, but we decided to save ourselves the hassle and just take the shuttle directly from the airport.  It was a bit more expensive, but it would be more efficient and relaxing.  Or so we thought.  

We were the first couple on the shuttle, which meant that we got to pick the "good" seats.  Unfortunately, it also meant that our luggage was the first to be put into the tiny storage area in the back.  I had a soft duffle and Scott had a backpack--not exactly mean to be squished under large, hard suitcases.  Oh, well--this is a small, rustic, backpacking town, right?  How much luggage can everyone else be bringing, right?  Apparently, a lot.  There was still a while before we were going to leave, so I took a quick bathroom break and while I was gone, two families also bought tickets for the shuttle.  One was a family of five and another a family of three.  The family of five had about two suitcases each, so even though they arrived at the same time as the smaller family, they stayed behind to help arrange them in the storage area.  The shuttle was getting pretty full, and the smaller family had a child who looked to be about 8 or 9 years old, so they tried to get in and get seats together.  Apparently, however, the larger family had somehow "reserved" all the seats in the last three rows (which, by the way, was a grand total of 8 seats), so when they boarded the shuttle and saw the boy sitting in "their" seat, they were not pleased.  

Even though the mother of the smaller family was obviously unhappy about not being able to have the whole family sit together, she did have her son get up and move to a different seat.  She made a comment under her breath, saying she didn't realize that seats could be reserved and that she didn't think it was such a big deal.  The larger family, believing that they were far superior to the rest of us, could not stand for this kind of treatment, and the mother and father both began to yell at the mother of the smaller family.  She didn't really want to argue, so she just told her son to be quiet and behave in the back seat while she moved up to the front to get away from the conflict.  Because there was not more room in storage, she left a small briefcase with her son in the back.  This meant that it had to be near the father of the large family, so he did not have as much leg room as he had probably hoped for. Again, the larger family felt that they did not deserve such treatment, but this time took their complaints to the driver of the shuttle.  

The driver apologized for having to put the extra luggage in the seating area, but explained that trying to put it in the back with the rest of the luggage could create a safety issue (the only place to put it would have been in a place where it was likely to fall on the heads of the people in the back seat).  He told the boy that he could not place it directly in front of the door as he had done, but that it could stay in the seating area as long as there was still room to exit the vehicle in case of an emergency.  Finally, fed up with this horrendous treatment they were receiving, the parents of the larger family both left the van in a huff.  Their three teenage children remained in the van, entitled as ever, ignoring the rest of us who just wanted to get on our way after already having been delayed at the airport.  

fauerzaesp.org

Shortly, the parents returned to the shuttle, this time with the police.  If any of you have ever seen Chilean police, you know that they can be pretty intimidating, especially for people who are not used to such heavily armed guards.  They always seem to be carrying at least one gun, and often wear bullet-proof vests and even helmets just for routine activities.  While this made us and the other gringo foreigners a bit nervous, it seemed to have no effect on either of the two feuding families.  In fact, at this point, the argument became so fierce that more police were called over until there were the two couples arguing, surrounded by four police officers.  By this point, they had been pulled out of range of the shuttle, so I could no longer hear what was being said.  The argument continued for a few more minutes, when suddenly we were surprised to see the back of the shuttle opening (it was mostly surprising because we were all so focused on the scene off to the side to notice that the driver had walked around to the back).  

The mother of the large family yelled something from afar, and the teenage children got out of the shuttle and began to help (i.e. shout orders to) the driver as he removed their suitcases from the back of the van.  Another driver from the same company came over and transferred these bags over to another shuttle.  We were all a bit confused as to what had just happened, but I, for one, was relieved that the family was leaving--I had been concerned that their heavy luggage on top of my duffle bag was going to break some of the fragile contents inside (like my camera!).  And after all this drama, we were definitely ready to just get out of there!

So, the entitled "rich" (but apparently not rich enough to get private transport) family headed off to another shuttle, and the rest of us spread out more in ours with the extra seats and finally departed to our destination.  The ride was just over an hour long, but at least it was quiet and relaxing.  We passed through the Valley of the Moon on the way in.  We didn't really manage to see much of the rest of it during our stay (it was a bit far to bike to, and the tours were really expensive), but don't worry; we saw lots of other neat things during our stay!

www.laskanas.com

The shuttle dropped us off right at the door to our hostel (no easy task since it was situated at the end of a very narrow alleyway).  I was a bit nervous about our accommodations, because I had chosen the most economical option and the reviews were not all the best.  As the week progressed, though, we were pleasantly surprised that the hostel more than exceeded our expectations (except for one memorable incident that we will get to later.  And that wasn't the fault of the hostel, it just happened to occur there).  We checked into our room, dropped off our stuff, and walked the short distance into town to get our bearings.  Even though it was only about 5:30, we were pretty tired out from the day's events, so we decided to grab an early dinner.  The restaurant we found was on the main street, but was dug into the ground so that when you sat at the table, your head was about at the level of the street.  This is probably to keep it cool during the hot summer days in the desert.  Unfortunately, this is winter, and it was starting to get dark.  I ate dinner dressed in all my layers (including long underwear!).  They lit the fireplaces just as we were leaving (that's what we get for being early diners, I suppose). 

After dinner, we walked around a bit and bought some necessities at the convenience store on the main street (we weren't sure if breakfast was included with our room or not, and besides, you can never have too much tea and oatmeal).  We checked out some of the shops, which mostly sold imported artisan crafts from Peru and Bolivia, and then headed back to the hostel.  The internet was out that night, so we watched a couple of episodes of "Cheers" that Scott had brought with him, and were in bed by 9:00, ready to begin our adventures the next day.  

School's Out!

I’m free!  For a couple weeks at least… Tuesday was the last final for English (there are make-up tests in a week but I still don’t know if I have to proctor those or not).  Right now I’m sitting in the airport waiting for my flight to Calama, from where we’re going to catch a bus to San Pedro de Atacama.  I should have some new adventures to tell soon!

Wednesday I had the first real opportunity to break from my routine.  One of my Chilean coworkers also teaches English to workers in a small tourist town, Pomaire, about an hour outside of Santiago.  It’s part of a university-sponsored program to help get the town and its people back on their feet after the losses they suffered from the 2010 earthquake.  Nearly their entire economy is based on traditional pottery and the tourism generated by its sale.  The town itself and the people were largely unharmed by the earthquake, but the majority of the ovens used to produce the pottery were destroyed.  In Chile, municipalities cannot apply for grants from the government but universities can, so the director of the economics program at university (I’m not sure which one, it might be the same one I work for, but there are so many branches of that one that it’s hard to tell.  Either way, it’s a major university) applied for a grant to study the makeup of the town and to create a proposal to improve it.

The director (whose name I forgot but actually happened to work with the same study abroad program that I came to Chile with) brought his students to the town to do a survey (census) of the people and find out more about their economic status.  There actually is currently a nation-wide census being carried out this year, but unlike in the United States, the results are not published.  So, to make a proper proposal, the university students had to do their own study.  They just finished and are expecting the results in a few months.  Based on their findings, they will make recommendations to the townspeople as to how to improve their lives while maintaining important cultural traditions (like pottery-making).

Part of the initial stage of the betterment program is better preparing the townspeople to deal with the tourists.  Right now, most of the tourists are Chilean, as the town is still a bit of a “hidden gem,” but part of the improvement plan is to increase recognition of the town and its products, hopefully even becoming a globally-recognized name in pottery production.  Currently, the town is mostly a destination for Santiaguenos looking for a relaxing day trip.  There are some restaurants, but it is mostly small shops.  There is no entertainment, or even lodging.   Plans are underway to build a visitors’ center and a hostel, and to advertise these attractions more widely, encouraging foreign visitors to stop in the town.

Typical Pomaire Shop

One important factor in dealing with foreigners in the tourism industry is a basic command of English.  For this reason, my coworker was hired to teach bi-weekly English classes to townspeople who work in tourism-related trades.  She has been giving the classes for a few months, and at the end of the semester she thought it would be fun to introduce her students to “authentic” English speakers.  She invited me and the three other new TIPS (native-speaking teachers) at my school to help teach her class for a day.  

A mini-bus picked us up from our campus at 1:30pm, and we were off on the one-hour trip into the countryside.  It was so nice to be in a private bus, not packed up against hundreds of strangers on public transit!  On the way there, we talked about our experiences teaching English (let’s just say that we were all ready for the break), and our plans for the future.  The Chilean teacher that took us has traveled quite a bit, and has relatives in the U.S. and in Europe, so she gave us some good travel advice.  I’m lucky enough to be able to visit Easter Island in a couple weeks, and she gave me a bunch of insider tips on what to do there.  She’s actually had a lot of interesting experiences!  We haven’t really had the chance to talk in-depth with any of the Chilean teachers at our campus, so it was nice to hear one of their stories and see where they’re coming from!  She actually used to teach elementary school, but once got the opportunity to teach teachers, which inspired her to go back to school for a Master’s so that she could teach in higher education.  I don’t know how old she is, but she definitely seems to have way more experience than her years warrant!

We arrived in Pomaire just after 2:30, and immediately stopped at a restaurant for lunch (provided free by the program!).  While we waited to order, we prepared for the class.  We were to be divided into small groups in which we would do practice exercises with the students.  The class was planned to be an hour and a half long, but the teacher was so prepared—she had 4 planned activities and 2 extra in case we ran out of time.  She told us that these students had only just started to learn English, so they weren’t very advanced yet.  The games we had involved information they would need to know in their jobs—prices, objects, basic questions, etc.  The class didn’t start until 7:00 pm, so we packed up the materials and got down to the most pressing matter—lunch.

The waiter was apologetic because he said that their chicken pieces were much smaller than usual and he was concerned that we would be hungry.  Also, three people wanted mashed potatoes for their side, and he once again apologized that they only had two portions left.   He said he would see if he could stretch it a bit, and if not, he would bring baked potatoes.  We agreed and sat down to wait for the meal.  Luckily, I didn’t have to worry about and of the waiter’s concerns, as I had ordered “carne mechada,” slow-cooked beef stewed with vegetables.  I also decided to forgo the potatoes, and ordered rice instead.

As we waited for the meal, we were served with fresh-made “pan amasado,” rustic baked buns, and a small salad.  We hardly had time to let the bread cool before our main course came out.  We were quite surprised to see that the chicken pieces each took up half of the large plate, and the two portions of potatoes had successfully been divided among three people, and that each portion was still larger than both of my fists!  I had ordered rice, believing that it would be the lighter option of the two sides, but the mound of it covered the entire plate, with the meat piled on top.  It was perfectly cooked and very tender.  It wasn’t really seasoned, but it was so juicy and flavorful on its own that it didn’t need anything else!  After the meal, we were served peaches and cream for dessert with coffee and tea.  By the time we finished our extravagant lunch, it was nearly 4:30!

We headed out towards town to explore a bit and meet some of the students in their shops before class.  Considering how much we had all just eaten, this was a bit of a chore, but after a few wrong turns, we made it to the town center, which was full of small shops of pottery and other artisan goods.  We first stopped at a pottery shop owned by one of the students—they were so excited for our arrival that they had been waiting out front for two hours with a sign that said “SPOKEN ENHGISH.”  We were amazed that they introduced themselves fully in English, and even answered our basic questions about their products in English.  It was probably more difficult for us to realize that we didn’t need to speak Spanish!  The pottery was all gorgeous and really high quality, but unfortunately, as pottery tends to be, it was all quite heavy and therefore difficult to transport (especially back to the U.S.).  We all wanted to buy a bunch of things, but we settled for small bowls as a memento (only 250 pesos, too!).

Crucifix made from recycled fork 

We spent the next couple hours walking around the town and meeting some of the students at their shops.  I wish I could have bought something from all of them, but unfortunately I’m not yet the stereotypical rich American that most people seem to expect.  We were all continually amazed that everyone willingly (and happily) greeted us in English and some even had short conversations with us!  One of the shops we went to was a jewelry store owned by a husband and wife.  The husband made jewelry from silver—there were some really awesome pieces that were made from recycled spoons and forks!  The wife made jewelry from leather and clay.  She was so excited for our visit that she gave each of us some handmade earrings with tiny clay pots!  And she gave the Chilean teacher a beautiful leather hairclip in the shape of a flower.  It was such a refreshing change to be greeted so warmly by so many people, and to even receive gifts!  There really is a different world outside of Santiago…

After our exploring, we headed back to the restaurant for “onces” (teatime).  Even though it had only been a couple hours since lunch, we were offered sandwiches and empanadas, which we politely declined.  They couldn’t just let us have simply tea, though, so we were once again served fresh “pan amasado” with real butter.  There, we met with the owner of the restaurant and the director of the university program, where he explained his goals.  We also got to talk to the owner of the restaurant, who is apparently a bit of an archaeology buff and was quite excited to learn that I had worked in that field at one point.  He told us that the town has been continuously settled since around 700 BC and that there have been some archaeological findings, but that most of it has ended up in private hands.  He was hoping that I could set something up to look for more stuff that could be put into a public museum or something.  I think that's a bit above my training (for now at least), but it's definitely a good idea!  Maybe in the next phase of the university project, they could do something like that!  And I wouldn't be opposed to helping out...

After "onces," we headed over to the local school where the classes were held.  Each of the four of us native speakers were given a large card with a number written on it.  In an envelope, the Chilean teacher had made small pieces of paper with the same numbers.  As the students entered, they reached into the envelope and chose a number, indicating with native speaker they would work with for the evening.  I was grouped with four students--two women and two men.  One of the men worked as a taxi driver (and therefore already had pretty decent English), and the other worked at a tool company as a salesman.  One of the women was older and worked as a homemaker, while the younger of the two owned a jewelry shop in the town (she had been one of the people we had visited earlier during our exploring).  I was so amazed at how friendly and talkative they were (even though they'd only had a couple months of English--they tried everything in their power to communicate with me)!  The Chilean teacher had told them that we didn't know any Spanish, so we only had to speak English for the entire class.  We actually managed to do it, too!  I can't imagine that ever happening in my other classes!!  Before we started on the activities, we just conversed a bit about everyone's jobs and interests--in English!!

The class was schedule to last for an hour, and much to my surprise, nearly everyone arrived on time (early, even!).  Only a couple people were late, and they received much heckling from the rest of the group.  We started class right on time, and it was so wonderful to have excited, engaged students who actually wanted to learn.  We played some games to practice some of the things they had been learning during the year, and I didn't even have to explain the rules in Spanish!  We started off with a simple BINGO game to go over the alphabet.  Each of the students had a board with various letters of the alphabet, and I had the whole alphabet on cards  inside of an envelope.  We started out just going over the names of the letters that each person had on their card, and they got most of them without problems (and they didn't even have to sing the song to remember--I'm not even sure I'm at that point yet)!  As we played, they even began to call out names of words that began with each letter--what a great idea!  I wish I'd thought of it!  But again, it was so great to have eager, willing students!  It's so much easier to teach a class when the students want to be there!!

I had been worried that I would run out of activities for the hour and a half class, but they were having so much fun that I actually only got through two of them.  I had prizes for the BINGO game, which the students appreciated, but it was not the motivating factor in playing the game--much different than I am used to!  They even wanted to keep playing just for more practice!  After the BINGO game, we played a matching game with pictures of merchandise (bags, jewelry, clothing, etc).  Even though they hadn't heard a lot of the words before, they caught on really quickly and guessed every single one of them without me using a word of Spanish (I did have to use some interesting hand gestures at some points though).  They got really competitive with the matching game, but were still friendly with each other, and even helped each other out.  They were genuinely having a good time and wanting to learn!  They even wanted me to correct their mistakes, even the most minor of them!  I could not (and still cannot) get over how wonderful it was to have active, friendly participation in the classroom!

The last game that I got to with my group was a fill-in game.  Each student had a piece of paper with pictures of the merchandise that we had just learned about.   For example, both had pictures of a backpack and of pens, but one had the price of the backpack while the other had the price of the pen.  They had to practice asking and answering questions about the prices of the objects--something that will be very useful to them in everyday life (and that some had even already gotten the chance to practice earlier in the day when we went around to visit).  This was the only activity that I had some difficulty explaining in English, but with an example conversation, everyone got it.  They were so great at paying attention to detail--correcting each other when they forgot the verb "to be," and even helping each other with minor pronunciation errors.  I butted in a couple times to ask and answer questions so that they could get practice with a native accent, but they really didn't need my supervision at all--they were happy learning and practicing just for the sake of it.  In fact, my group actually got scolded a bit by the Chilean teacher because they wouldn't even stop practicing even when she announced that class was over!

My students and me after class

When everyone was finally pulled away from their practicing, the Chilean teacher announced that class was over and we all magically knew Spanish now so that we could all converse freely over tea.  Many attempts were made to corral us into the kitchen, but first pictures had to be taken of each teacher with their group.  A few of the male students insisted on having their picture taken surrounded by the four of us (young, female) native teachers, saying "no one will believe I was with four beautiful gringas unless I have proof!"  So, there are probably a couple dozen photos of us and the group floating around somewhere, I'm sure you'll get to see one at some point!  After the photo session, we all went to the kitchen for (another) onces of tea and "palta" (avocado) sandwiches.  We chatted with the students for a while in Spanish (or Spanglish).  

By 9:15, everyone was getting tired from the long day and our bus driver was back waiting for us, so we said our goodbyes (which took a while, as we had to fit in a few more photo ops, plus the customary good-bye kiss for each student), and headed back across the plaza for the ride home.  On the way over, we stopped for a quick thank you from (and to) the director of the program.  It was such a success that they're already making plans to do another similar experience next semester!  I hope I can be involved again, it was such a refreshing experience!  

We all got on the bus, glad for the heating system, as it had gotten quite cold in the town once the sun went down!  On the way back, we talked about our experiences and our plans for the winter vacation.  We arrived back at our campus around 10:30, and the Chilean teacher was kind enough to drive us all home (we all live within three blocks of each other).  I was exhausted, but so excited that I ran inside to tell Scott about the experience.  Then, we quickly packed up for our trip to San Pedro the next day and headed off to bed.  Hopefully I'll have some great adventures there to tell you about soon!