Amiable Arica

Aríca nestles in the crotch of sandy mountains sloping down to the Pacific.

It's really weird to lay on the beach, cerveza in hand, and look to the left or right and see mountains touching the ocean.

But, as with Iquique, Aríca spreads out along the Pacific, with the Andes surrounding the city.

The Andes dips a big toe into the Pacific.

The big piece of rock pictured was the site of many a historic battle in Chile. The top hosts a museum and several pieces of ancient military hardware. Good viewpoint, but the path to the top is almost straight up.

With it being got as hell here, getting up there was too easy. It's not too bad in the shade, where the temperature is around 74 degrees. But the sun is unbearable. And the path to the top, and everything up there, is lies naked under the sun.

In the city, everyone walks in the shade -- one side of the street is empty, one side is full -- the side with the shade.

The biggest part of Aríca lies north of the big rock. To the south lies this small resort area, which is a little more relaxed.

Stayed in a hostale, somewhere in between a hotel and a hostel (which is more like a dorm party place for young backpackers), run by old French folks. Kind of weird talking in Spanish to someone with a French accent. Especially troubling was when they threw an English word into the middle of a sentence.

The first night, I was talking to the owner. He was saying my Spanish was very good, as a courteous and overly generous business would say to a tourist. A little chit-chat ensued, and I asked why he thought my Spanish was good, as I had only just arrived. He was talking about my e-mail to him requesting a reservation. I was following him pretty well -- and then bam -- he dropped a word that stopped the conversation. I didn´t understand and he couldn´t get around it, so we moved on. I got my key and went to my room.

About 15 minutes later, it hit me. He was saying, as he was speaking Spanish in a French accent, e-Ma-el. I was searching for something in Spanish similar to it, but couldn´t find it. The problem is, they pronounce all the vowels down here. He wasn´t saying e-Ma-el, he was saying e-ma-il, only the i sounds more like an e in Spanish.

It's happened a few times -- English words said with a Spanish accent thrown into the middle of a Spanish sentence knocked me for a loop every time.

On Sunday, the only commerce taking place during the day was the obligatory outdoor market.

Just like Iquique, most of Aríca takes Sunday off. A couple of Internet places are open, a couple little shops and the gas stations. Otherwise, everything else is closed until the restaurants begin to open in the late afternoon.

Unlike Iquique, Aríca has a market about a half-mile long. Nothing but these little tented joints selling all kinds of cheap stuff.

Pretty much spent my time here lying on the beach drinking a cerveza, eating, lying on the beach, touring the market, lying on the beach. It was tough.

Chillin' in Chile

Ahh, this is the life. Lying on the beach, cerveza in hand and the Pacific at one's feet.

After hours of sand and rock, the bus descends rapidly down to Iquique, on the northern Chilean coast. A most welcome sight -- a city and surf.

Five-star hotels litter the center of Playa Cavancha, Iquique also boasts a gigantic duty-free port center, and most everything is insanely cheap.

Have no idea what they are, except that they´re carrion fowl -- and they dig chilling on the coast.

Stayed at the Hotel del Profesor, a dingy little joint costing $15 a day set up by the University of Chile for its professors who travel. Didn´t see any.

Did find the pub across the street, serving lomo saltado sandwiches. Some kind of sliced pork on a giant bun -- $2.50. Cerveza? Pint drafts of Cristal, a giant South American brewery, went for 75 cents.

Tsunami warning posters hang inside many places in Iquique, and street signs point the way to safety -- most point up hill.

Met three Chilean kids, somewhere around 20, as we were all leaving the same beer store with more or less the same purchases. Same on benches in a plaza, replete with fiesta of some sort and required too-loud music, a couple blocks from the hotel.

Iquique apparently gets a lot of Bolivian tourists, a few Peruanos and a bunch of Chileans, but few Americans or Europeans. The kids were fascinated that an old gringo could talk a little Spanish, drink a lot of beer -- and would talk to three kids.

This is the plaza I drank with the kids at, the next day.

The youths fiercely disputed my claim that Paraguayan women were, on the whole, better looking than Chilean women. They didn´t dispute the claim in relation to the other countries I mentioned.

Sunday was amazing. EVERYTHING was shut down until almost 3 p.m. A few tiny convenience stores started opening, and a couple of Internet cafes. A bunch of restaurants opened about 5. Otherwise, everything else remained closed. Chileans put the chill in chillin´ out.

Just deserts

The road from Paraguay to Chile runs through the pampas of Argentina and up the Andes into Chile.

Who knew? Not me, sure as hell.

There´s a gigantic stretch of desert that runs through most of northern Chile into southern Peru.

This desert spans much of the Andes, and the altiplano, or mountain plains, from Bolivia and Argentina west to the sea.

Sand and heat. More sand and heat. And the sun is strongest down here in the late afternoon.

Actually, Wiki says it´s two deserts -- the Sechura desert in Peru and the Atacama desert in Chile. According to NASA, National Geographic and other sources, Wiki says, the Atacama is the driest desert in the world.

I had the obviously enviable please of riding a bus from Salta, Argentina, to Calama, Chile. The run crosses the pampas of Argentina until it begins climbing the Andes.

Rocks! After hours of sand, rocks were a welcome sight.

It was actually pretty awesome. Hours and hours of sand, sand dunes, sand mountains. Then some rocks.

Occasionally, dusty little towns pop up -- and when the bus stops, three or four people pile in selling drinks, empanadas, ice cream and fruit.

The view screamed photos, but they´re tough to take from a bus.

After passing all this, I got to Calama, a small town with a plaza and cheap beer and food. Otherwise, there´s not much to mention about it -- except that it´s the launching pad for the ride to Iquique, and the beach.