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Lonely Planet says there's not much to see as you travel through the desert between La Serena and Antofagasta, suggesting that a night bus is a good idea. The guidebook can be helpful but is so wrong on this account. The entire trip was fascinating as the vastness of the Atacama Desert, the driest place in the world, unrolled around us.
We spent the first night of our trip in La Serena, where we have visited twice before, a lovely town about seven hours north of Vina del Mar. The next day we climbed out of the city and watched the ocean fog lace the top of the hills. El Parque National Bosque de Fray Jorge is located south of La Serena and is the only rainforest on Earth where it never rains. The dense camanchaca provides enough moisture for unique trees and plants to grow. Fog is a common companion to the coast of northern Chile, modulating the heat and creating moderate temperatures along the edge of this desert.
Outside of La Serana, the hills are speckled with cactus which look like cousins to the Suroro in Arizona. They shrank as our bus went inland and away from the fog, until only mesquite was left.
Even these became more sparse and disappeared.
Memorials like this are seen every few miles.
Soon the desert was "empty." Sand stretched beneath mountains molded through geological ages. Volcanic ridges rippled at their feet.
Mining in the north of Chile, especially copper mines, is what makes the Chilean economy churn. Copper prices have dropped dramatically over the last year, but there still is profit in it. We passed several operations, the only human interruptions in hours of moonscapes, and then finally arrived late in Antofagasta. The city is huge, stretching for several kilometers along the coast. Antofagasta was founded in 1869 by Bolivia to serve as its main outlet for its mining industry. Chile seized it a decade or so later, and it's still referred to as "captive province" by Bolivians. According to Wikipedia, the city receives only 4 millimeters of rain a year on average, and for forty years it never rained at all.
It was close to midnight, but the bus station and the streets were thick with crowds, car alarms, diesel fumes and barkers selling you-name-it. We dragge
We swore off Chilean pastry in Puerto Varas. We'd had the good experience of finding a decent cake in Valdivia, but this was rare. We've had delicious meals at the homes of friends, but restaurant cuisine in general (except for the places my husband calls "working man cafes" that serve up darn good pollo asado and papas fritas), and pastries and sweets in particular, have left us underwhelmed. They are not very sweet, don't have much flavor and are made with an incredible amount of doughy dough. But since we had success with the Valdivian bakery and hoped that the German pastry influence had found it's way down to Puerto Varas, we thought we'd give it a try. We went into a coffee house with a good solid German name and ordered a slice of pie de lemon. Two inches of dough and a sliver of lemon flavor later, we made our resolution.
The picture above is of Lago Llanguihue (pronounced yawn-KEE-way), a huge lake that puts the size of Clear Lake (the lake near our house in . . . duh . . . Lake County, California) to shame. Behind it is Volcan Orsono. If we'd had more time (and if it hadn't started to rain), we would have explored the small towns around the lake or taken one of the all day cruises. The town has a little over 30,000 full time residence but in January and February all of Chile siphons down to it. I would think that the town would be incredibly peaceful and slow-paced the rest of the year.
Puerto Varas is pleasant and pretty. The views are incredible with not only Volcan Orson to see in the distance, but two others volcanos as well: Calbuco and Tronador. The shrine below is just below the Catholic church, very typical of the ones that are all over Chile.
My favorite part, though, was being at the Hostel Compass del Sur, a friendly, very clean old house where we met Shelly, from Vancouver, Canada, a chef who had tried a gig in Buenas Aires and was now traveling until it was time for her next job as a private chef in Hawaii. My husband, who has done a great deal of cheffing, had a lot to talk to her about. We all met in the kitchen, naturally. We'd gone to Puerto Montt for the day. Bill cooked up the salmon filet we'd bought there and we shared our white wine with her.
Later, we shared her red wine as the three of us had a card game with an Anglo-Indian cancer researcher with whom I'd watched the ending to Van Helsing earlier in the day. He talked about how drug companies didn't want to cure diseases because where is the profit in that? Instead, he said, their interest is in maintaining patients for life. The next day he was off on the Navimag to backpack around the Torres del Paines National Park.
Puerto Montt, a bus ride away, is the gateway to Patagonia. We looked into taking the Navimag to Puerto Natales for t
This is our dear friend Pamela leaving Vina del Mar last year for what she thought would be a job as a nanny in Santiago. First she went home to the Lake Region in southern Chile to spend a month or so with her family, but now she's decided to stay, attend preuniversario and then marticulate to university or technical school in 2010.
Pamela and me in my front yard
From Valdivia, Bill and I took a bus to La Union. The bus was full, every seat taken and many people were standing in the aisle. We were entertained by a couple of little girls singing songs and squeezing back and forth from their abuelita who sat in the back seat, through older sisters listening to MP3 players, to where their mama and papa stood, holding on to their packages and the backs of seats.
Outside the window, the trees grew even more densely here than they did on our way to Valdivia, bearing witness to the stories we've heard so many times of the mammoth rains that occur in the Region de Lagos during most of the year.
Pamela and her cousin Karen cooking lunch for us!
La Union is in a valley, reminiscent of the lumbermill towns my family passed through when I was a child on vacations to the Pacific Northwest. Pamela met us at the bus station, and we were off in a taxi to la casa de su abuelita where she spends the weekdays, saving the weekends for her mother's place in Rio Nuevo.
Pamela's cousins Karen, Carolina, Gabriela, her Tio Harry, her grandmother (abuelita)Elcira, and two of her brothers, Cesar and Felipe, were all there to greet us. Many besos (kisses) later, I was offerred the use of their computer to check on my mom in California.
Cesar sat down with my husband, apologizing for his ingles, which was far better than our espanol, wanting to find out what Bill thought about Obama. He explained that he was very concerned about Obama's position on abortion. The family is Pentacostal and very worried that abortion is legal in the U.S. Bill said that Obama supported a woman's right to choose what to do with her own body and then added that, personally, he felt making criminals out of these women was not a good idea. Cesar, in a very softspoken and careful manner, asked wasn't God the same God everywhere? Then he said that since we were guests in his country he would not argue with us and we should stop discussing the matter and enjoy the almuerza.
After lunch, we took a walk with Pamela, two of her cousins, and Felipe to a park where in the heat of the afternoon a river seemed to beg to be waded in. However, even this isn't encouraged as it's contaminated with wastes from the mills and local dairies. We then walked to the plaza de armas. Earlier in the day, we saw a funeral processio
I love Valdivia. It reminds me of Arcata, California with its university feel and clapboard houses. But it also feels like Seattle, though it's not right on the sea. The commercial and university areas are divided by the sapphire blue band of the Rio Valdivia. Streets are wide. The town is clean. The Plaza de Armas is expansive with many benches beneath shade trees.
A young mime entertained the entire plaza by putting on a performance that could rival Charlie Chaplin's, stopping cars as he "tried" to pick up his hat only to have it skip away from him, humorously escorting old ladies across the street, giving deadpan looks at people ignoring him, and taking hats off of the heads of the most distinguished gentlemen.
My husband, once upon a time a redhead and still sensitive to the sun, needed a good hat. This store has been in the same place since the 1930s and walking in was like stepping back in time. I loved the wood walls and the elegant cases. Bill found just the right Panama-style sombrero. 
You can also take a sunset cruise and look for black-necked swans. Bring a jacket, though, because you'll need it coming back. 
Southern Chile was settled by immigrants from all over Germany. Many Prussian families came in the 1890s because their sons were being forced to serve in the army. The architecture, street signs, breweries and bakeries reflect the German influence. Overall, we haven't been impressed with Chilean bake goods, but we went to one pasteleria/chocolateria whose name I didn't write down. Darn . . . it's in the downtown section which only covers about eight blocks by eight blocks . . . a trip to olfactory heaven. We bought an amaretto cake that was light and melt-in-the-mouth good.
My favorite places, though, were the three-story mercado central where we found beautiful earrings and bags and the large outdoor market across the street where all sorts of fresh sea food (some still alive) could be found. Salmon, salmon, salmon, salmon. Cooked with a little butter and lemon . . .ah! We were not to buy any off a truck as salmon robberie
Just so you won't miss it (next to the bus station in Temuco, Chile)
There are certain mysteries about Chile that as guests to the country my husband and I have decided we'll probably never solve. Why does a country rich in vineyards and wonderful inexpensive wine have raisins that cost an arm and a leg? Into which black hole does the mail disappear? Why do you need to talk to the pharmacist to buy Rolaids?
And then there's the Tur Bus food mystery.
The United States could learn a lot about public transportation from Chile. You can journey from one end of the country to the other and know that buses will generally be clean, comfortable and on time. Most people can afford to travel on them. (Though using the bathroom while in transit is an adventure in itself. It's best to bring tissues with you just in case). When traveling distances we usually take Tur Bus and are generally pleased. However, there's the food issue.
The first time we went to La Serena, about seven hours to the north of Vina del Mar, everyone was served lunch: a dry sandwich, some cookies, and a coke. Not delightful, but at least it filled us up. On the way back, we found two women in the seats we had reserved. They were elderly, and we told them not to worry and sat in theirs. Come lunch time, everyone on the right hand side of the bus were handed bags with food, including the women. We kept waiting and watched the ladies eat ours . . . evidently the left hand side wasn't in favor that day. On a recent trip to La Serena, the bus stopped at a new lunch facility built by Tur Bus. We had a decent hot dog on the way up and then coming home an even better empanada at a food stand across the street. So there should be something similar in place for a much longer trip, right?
There must be some sort of Chilean bus traveling meme that we just haven't connected to where the food supply is concern. Vina to Valdivia is a 12 hour trip. There was two five minute stops and then a ten minute one in Temuco where I had just enough time to grab some crackers. We got to Valdivia after 10 at night and were starving.
Enough of that. Here's the good part, the scenery:
Everything was very dry leaving Santiago. The area around the city is more or less desert and without the snowmelt from the Andes, it would be hard for a city of over six million to exist. 
Chile is a first world country,yet scenes like this one of the horse and cart picking up a supply of gravel are common. This picture was taken not far from subways, fast cars, high fashion and skyscrapes.
But in a little while, the campo became verdant. We'd arrived in the core wine growing region of the country, passing kilometer after kilometer of vineyards. Our home in California is in the upper region of the wine country; at this point I felt I could have been traveling down the Napa Valley to San Francisco. The green leaves were a welcome sight.
Detail of mural, Concha y Toro Barrio, Santiago Chile
Santiago in the summer is hot; unlike Los Angeles which has a similar latitude, there is less smog than in winter . . . I chalk this up to how things are just different in South America like dealing cards right to left and putting guacamole on hot dogs because . . . well, I'm not sure why. Chilenos don't understand why we gringos find completos unappetizing. 
Complete Mural
There's also the chorrellano, a meal of saugage, beef and chicken covered with greasy French fries and an egg sunnyside up that people love here. Just looking at it makes your arteries want to close up.
The Completo 
I'm more used to Santiago in winter when everyone is bundled up with scarfs over their mouths, babies are thoroughly wrapped in blankets, and hostels and restaurants are quite cold as there is little central heating. In summer, the pace is just as fast, but a veneer of sweat stays with you until the evening. After a long subway ride or being in a stuffy bus, I look forward to the helados aguas, fruit popcicles that are incredibly rich in flavor, the best I've ever had; so much better than soda to quench a thirst. I was surprised to find that manzana (apple) flavored ones are sold along with ones you might expect: moro (berry), naranja (orange), pina (pineapple), fruitilla (strawberry) and, on lucky days, frambuesa (raspberry).
Evenings are wonderful, and there are plenty of sidewalk cafes (albiet the majority with smokers) to sit and linger in. The murals above were taken in one of our favorites places, the small barrio of Concha y Toro, near Barrio Brasil, where the neo-colonial architecture has been preserved. We had orange cake and coffee on a terrace overlooking the Plaza Libertad de Prensas. Lovers, including two young women, kissed on the benches that surrounded the fountain below, while the little daughter of the owners of the tienda circled the plaza on what might have been her Christmas bike.
We spent two days in Santiago before heading to the Lake District and Isla de Chiloe. As we travel, like the good consumers we are, we dream of an export business and are drawn into stores and artesan workshops. There are two ferias we know of in Santiago: one more centrally located across from Cerro Santa Lucia, which, generally is more inexpensive than El Pueblito San Dominico, larger and more upscale, in the Los Condes area. It is here that those large buses pull up filled with tourists with plenty of cameras and VISA cards. If you don't have time to explore more of the country, handicrafts are represented here from all over the country. But if you do have a chance for more travel, buying things from the areas they are actual
Bill and I went to Mendoza, Argentina this last weekend. Mendoza is the center of the wine region of Argentina, a town of around 100,000 people. Coming into it, I thought of Albuquerque, New Mexico. The whole area on the other side of the Andes as we came from Chile reminded me of the southwest.
Mendoza was very warm, a bit humid, but absolutely lovely with tree lined streets, good food (yes the steaks ARE good, but be sure to say you don't want it well done if you prefer it that way), and it's famous for being a shopper's paradise. The stores were stocked with yerba mate cups which resemble honey pots with silver straws that strain the herbs as you drink the tea. Beautiful reasonably priced leather goods are everywhere, as well as artisan stands in several areas around the main part of town. Women used fans as they walked along the streets at night, and everyone seemed well dressed. I had a bit of a fashion melt down in my denim shorts, golf shirt, anklets and tennis shoes, but I got over it.
At dinner, we were approached by several people for money, something I'm slowly getting used to. We've been approached for the same thing in Santiago, but not quite so often. There are times when they just stand there after you say no. More often, though, they put cards . . . small calendars, saints, etc. on your table and then come around to collect money, no hassle if you don't want to buy anything. We got two Gemini cards from one young girl who wasn't older than ten or eleven.
Going over the Andes was incredible . . . you need to do this. They're similar to the Sierras as they were formed by the coastal plate lifting up the contenintal plate. One passes fairly quickly through the foothills and the mountains rise very fast. No trees though except in some of the valleys. Plenty of waterfalls. We were able to sit in the front of the double decker bus on the way to Argentina and had a huge window to look out of. The bus driver was crazy, passing on curves. My husband has posted a video of what it was like on his blog. Click on Travels beneath Good Links, then go to the Transportation in Chile posting. Scroll down to the third video. (If you want to know what it's like to ride the micro (public transit buses), check out the second video.
On our way back, just before we got to customs (eat your cheese before trying to enter either country) and not ten minutes after passing Mt. Aconcagua, the highest mountain in the western hemisphere, I saw a glimpse of a condor. I thought at first it was a hang glider, and then realized what it had to be. The split second made me realize how huge these birds are. He flew so that people on the other side of the bus got a better look.
Now for the unpleasant news. Right outside of Santiago, five boys (don't know their age as I didn't see them) threw rocks at the bus. One of them hit the window across the aisle from us. Fortunately the woman sitting there saw them and ducked. Glass (safety glass) sprayed everywhere. I felt a small piece whiz by my face (I ducked as well and covered my eyes). No one was hurt, thank goodness, but it was scary. Evidently this section of the road has had problems like this . . . but so does Los Angeles, unfortunately.
Anyway, I'll let the pictures do the talking now:
Lonely Planet says there's not much to see as you travel through the desert between La Serena and Antofagasta, suggesting that a night bus is a good idea. The guidebook can be helpful but is so wrong on this account. The entire trip was fascinating as the vastness of the Atacama Desert, the driest place in the world, unrolled around us.
Oh, Alethea! I've never been to Chile, and only for a week to Colombia when I was a Fellow in International Development through a leadership grant with Partners of the Americas.
But, I can so picture each phase of your journey here. You are so right: guidebooks, even the "Lonley Planet" can be so wrong on so many things. It's a matter of taste...and, sensibility.
You are right, too, that the desert--every desert--teams with life. Even in stretches where there are no humans, there are close to secret life and death dramas going on with the animal and plant societies there.
I love dry places--like New Mexico,like the northern part of most countries such as Ghana and throughout Western Africa. I love the savanah regions.
I traveled widely in the Kalahari Desert in Botswana. The desert is such a challenge and not always comfortable, but well worth it. I'm so glad you were able to learn some of its secrets here.
Janet Riehl
www.riehlife.com