Desert, Sea and Stars

Nine hours north of Santiago, centred around three rocky outcrops pounded by Pacific rollers, is the Humboldt National Marine Reserve. Wrapped up like arctic explorers against the sun (hot), the sea (wet) and the breeze (cool, yet with a penchant for turning gringa skin lobster red), we stepped into a boat, reminiscent of the kind played with in the bath as a child. In other words, it didn´t look up to the choppy conditions! I gave up being concerned that the boatman was doing last minute repairs to the engine as we set out, and that his mate was holding up a fuel line to keep the motor going, because I had spotted a fin skiing through the water towards us. It was joined by another, and then another, until an armada of bottlenosed dolphins surrounded us, skimming the bow wave in perfect unison. When the boat slowed the dolphins leapt out of the water to perform tail-swishing pirouettes, before flopping back beneath the waves for a spot of underwater ballet. They were so graceful, and every performance was accompanied by a heart-stopping smile.

The dolphins were replaced with zillions of fat-bellied sea lions flopping about on smelly rocks. We witnessed one guy who decided to take a swim, slither head-first down 20 feet of vertical rock before head-butting his way into the Pacific with a sound like a heavy weight boxer being decked. An incredibly rare sea lion (name forgotten) was then discovered doing roly polys that just broke the surface of the waves right beside the boat! First one frilly flipper would dangle above the swell before being twirled out of sight, and then the next flipper and so on (with this maneouvre, it looked like there was a never ending supply of differently frilled flippers rotating). They can do this for hours. What a life!

The boatman virtually stopped the boat and I heard him murmur something. Standing stock still on a rock ledge were six small penguins. Pingüinos de Humboldt thrive in the cold Humboldt current that washes the Chilean coast, but they´re very nervous and so the boatman had cut his engine and suddenly everyone was whispering. Even the slightest of loud noises can give pingüinos de Humboldt a heart attack. We stared at each other, penguin and human for a while, before the humans regretfully took our leave of these six perfectly frock-coated beings.

As we drove back from the Islas de Choros towards the Trans-American highway that runs the length of South America, we crossed desert scrub. The Atacama is slowly spreading south, just as the Sahara is creeping northwards. We drove along a dry river bed through a gorge of bare, copper coloured hills, not a tree to be seen, the only greenery provided by clumps of cactus that punctuated the flat scrub like exclamation marks. Some were in bloom with blood red flowers interspersed between their spikes. Our guide announced it would take two weeks to walk out of this desert (if you survived). Yet people live here! In the midst of this arid plain there was an oasis, an underground river, a bright green tangle of trees and plants that were like an “up yours” to the surrounding heat and dust. There was even a government scientific station growing aloe vera in very straight rows, a village school and a doctor´s surgery (the most remote in Chile).


We fell in love with the stars at Mamalluca Observatorio, high in the clear air of the hills bordering the Elqui Valley. With the naked eye we saw the hunter, Orion, disconcertingly upside down, with the three stars of his belt and his very bright and faithful companion, Cirrus, the dog. Opposite was the Southern Cross which doesn´t signal south at all (!), but which provides the wherewithall for working it out when you´re lost in the southern hemisphere on a cloudless night. The twins, Castor and Pollux, shone side by side and through the telescope we saw the rings of Saturn. What was one star by sight alone was transformed into fifty through the telescope. The International Space Station made two guest appearances, an improbable blob streaking through the heavens with its human cargo. Apparently it takes the brain three days to adjust to the discomfort of zero gravity and the internal organs floating about like lost souls. The Milky Way wrapped everything we saw in a silky scarf of stars until the horrid old moon rose and filled the night sky with unwelcome light!

Having taken you to the realms of desert, sea and stars, it is now time to visit the walled city of the dead - El cementario de Santiago. It´s massive and comes complete with people available to take your blood pressure as you arrive, lest you forget the temporary nature of existence! The cemetery clearly reflects the vicious nature of class-based society: the wealthy get fabulous detached houses, Greek temples, Egyptian ziggurats, vast, ornate catacombs to sleep the sleep eternal, whereas the poor get badly maintained, overcrowded concrete blocks, similar to the worst kind of run-down council estate. Honestly. Despite the size of the place, it wasn´t hard to find Salvador Allende´s memorial – just follow the singing. A band of Socialist Party followers were celebrating an anniversary there complete with red banners, red carnations and (by coincidence) a red-shirted me. We all sang ´The Red Flag´ afterwards. A few avenues beyond this, a Cuban band played a mean salsa beneath a portrait of Allende, and the twin flags of Cuba and Chile. Afterwards, everyone repaired to a bar outside the cemetery´s walls called “El Quita Penas” which translates roughly as ´Quit your pain´ or ´Drown your Sorrows´!

But my abiding memory of Santiago (as we get ready to leave for Quito), is of two octogenarian women freedom fighters, their grey hair shining in the afternoon sun, as they quietly discuss the next step the Fundación Victor Jara will take towards building a fair and just society.