borders, chile, iquique

Gratitude, let's start there because the tempation is to let the enshitification of much of our world get the better of me. How amazingly, friggin fortunate am I to have been able to set myself up for this life of travel and leisure. It was a group effort of circumstance, opportunity, luck, personality, environment and other factors that I am probably forgetting.

But here I am (or was), in Iquique, the "Miami" of Chile (beware the comparisons of a famous place to its supposed doppelganger elsewhere as it is never even close. I remember having to travel to Saskatoon for my work a few years ago and reading that it was known as the Paris of the praries. Hahahahahaha, what the fuck were they high on whoever came up with that comparison? I think it had one street with a couple of bistros. Anyway, not to take anything away from Iquique, it's fine, but obviosuly not Miami.  

I am grateful to have arrived safe and sound after a three-bus trip from Arequipa, Peru. First it was an overnight bus from Arequipa that suddenly pulled over to the side of the highway at about 4 in the morning. I woke up to find people piling out and when I asked what was going on, people just said that we have to get off, and get on one of the two other buses that had stopped in front and in back of our stranded bus. I stumbled out, half asleep, and like everyone else, scrambled to get my luggage out of the out of commission bus, and onto one of the other two buses. Both of these buses, by the way, were full, and none of drivers were in the least bit helpful, so we were left to our own devices to choose a bus, get our luggage on board, and find a place to stand or sit. I remember just standing there in the nighttime desert looking back and forth between the two buses, trying to guess which one I should make a break for. I kept seeing people going back and forth between the two, some with a young child in their arms, trying unsuccessfully to get help from any of the bus drivers. I went right, changed my mind, pivoted left and caught the eye of the driver who had just closed the luggage compartment. He reopened it, I threw my backpack in, hopped onto the bus just seconds before the door closed and we roared off. I was lucky enough to be one of the last ones on and was able to sit on a step for the rest of the journey, on to  the Peruvian border town of Tacna, thankfully only about a half hour away.

From Tacna, I had to cross the street to another bus station where the buses left for Arica, the border town on the Chilean side. Buses leave every half hour or so, so the wait wasn't too long. The border crossing was a bit of fun - go to this window, go to that window, fill this form out, pay this small fee, take your bags out, put them back on, ask the customs officials to, "por favor, habla mas despacio", which got a good laugh from them.

I think I've said this before but being a bit tramatized and toughened from my many Canada to USA border crossings when I was in my teens and twenties, any other border crossings pale in comparison for me. I've crossed sketchy borders from Laos to Vietnam, Guatemala to Mexico, Mexico to Guatemala, a bunch of other countries in Central America, Turkey to Syria, Jordan to Israel (OK, that was one was pretty bad). Israel to Egypt, and many more, but none of them fill me with the sense of nervousness and foreboding that the US border gives me. Fuck those fuckers.  

So after the fun times at the Peruvian-Chilean border, we continued our trip to Arica. Finally, I'm in Chile! Again, I had to walk a wee bit to another bus station to get a bus from Arica to Iquique and here I am!

I quite liked Iquique. It's a small to mid-size coastal city in the north of Chile. It's mostly chill, not too busy, the main beach, playa Cavanche is nice - light sand, no rocks, clean looking, refreshing water, a bit cold but not overly so. The beach was pretty packed it being the weekend when I arrived but even on the Monday it was busy. I think it's a popular vacation spot for many Chileans and maybe Peruvians too since it's not very far from the border. The other place I spent most of my time was Calle Baquedano. Walking down this wide, pedestrian-only street leading into the centre of town, it has a bit of a Wild West feel. The train tracks running down the street’s centre provide proof of the old street cars that used to run on it and the faded, wooden, saloon-style architecture is reflective of Iquique’s mining history, an instrumental part of the city’s establishment. Calle Baquedano is a great street to wander on for a bite to eat or a drink in the sun.

If Iquique is anything to go by, I love Chilean driving and etiquette. Of course  they drive fast, there's no escaping that fate, but they stop at red lights, at stop signs and most shocking, at crosswalks! Unlike Peru or Colombia where cars have first, second and third priority, where you always have to look carefully even, or especially when, you think you have priority because you don't really, in Chile, you do! They'll stop at crosswalks every time to let you walk through. It took me a few times to get used to it and make sure they weren't just baiting me and when I walked started walking, bam! No, they meant it. They stopped, looked at me, waited a bit, saw I was hesitating and waved me through. They were probably thinking, poor bastard, he's been traumatized by those crazy Peruvian drivers.

It's on the San Pedro de Atacama now...Read more