A series of seemingly meaningless events came together in order to bring me to this place. I chose to stay in Arica for a few more days rather than share a rental car with three other people in order to take a three day trip accross the National Park. I met a man in the plaza in Arica who tried to sell me an expensive tour, but instead told me about a man in Putre named Oriol who is the most talked about guide in the area. I made a reservation in Hostel Cali in Putre but when I arrived I received a cold, harsh reception and chose to look elsewhere. I asked a man on the street, and he told me that he has a hostel and tour company and that I should come see if I like the rooms—his name was Oriol! The hostel was filled with three other people, a young french couple and an older Chilean, who all wanted to visit the park together. It started out perfectly, and it got better and better.
For one, the hostel itself was perfect. I haven`t written too many entries on my experiences in hostels because I have been moving so much and sleeping in so many different places that it seems silly to comment on them all. But this place was different. It wasn`t that it was particularly clean or sparkly; there was no free breakfast and the showers weren`t always warm. But the buena onda (good vibes) of this place were so special and so unique, and I doubt I will be able to top it. It felt like home. I could come and go as I please. I had full access to the kitchen and we would spend our meals and free time around the dining room table, talking about current events and sharing opinions. The nights were spent playing dominoes around the fire, and laughing over silly things and lucky plays. And Oriol, the distinguished guide, gave me endless suggestions and contacts on where to go and who to see throughout the rest of my time here in Chile. Simple. And wonderful.
And then there is Alberto, a Chilean in his late forties. After years of working and even more years of dreaming, he finally was able to take his ideal vacation to Putre. I am so lucky to have had the opportunity to see this place through his excited, open eyes. His enthusiasm was contageous, and it allowed me to truly appreciate the unique beauty of Putre and Lauca National Park. Without him there, I may have been too numb and overwhelmed to really notice. Even more than his reaction to this beautiful place, his overall attitude truly impacted me in a positive way. He lives in Santiago and works in an office job; but he has avoided being wrapped up in the fast pace, individualized, passive-thinking, consumer culture. He believes we are all the same, and doesn`t prejudge people before meeting them. He greats everyone with a smile, whether he knows them or not, because he believes a smile is contageous and that your simple gesture can change someone`s life. He talks about difficult subjects like the dictatorship, the current Chilean government, and our environmental state and he shares his valid, deep opinions in the hopes that people will become uncomfortable and informed enough to develop their own opinions. He believes he can choose his attitude, and is grateful for those moments when he is bothered or annoyed (like when people talk loudly on cell phones on the bus) because it gives him the chance to overcome his negative state and find his calm center. He reads people and he empathizes with them. He rediscovers his city by wandering the streets, finding new places, and paying attention to tiny details like smells and textures. He can spend the whole day sitting on a park bench and watching people. He learns to listen to himself, and to what he wants to do. He has spark. He smiles. He has just the energy I need in order to truly enjoy the next month of my travel.
And then there are the mountains. Oh my...the mountains here. Putre, a small town at 3500 meters (a little less than 11,000 feet ), is a three hour drive from sea-level Arica along a windy mountain road. We climbed and climbed and climed along this engineering masterpiece that, in reality, is built along a route that has transported people for centuries and centuries, evidence of the giant geogliffs lining the cliffs, the crumbling walls spotting the valleys, and the old churches at each village. Once we broke through the coud line, we entered a completely new world—fields and fields of dry mountain tops reflecting every shade of brown, orange, and yellow; deep gorges where streams trickle through occasional green vegitation; hillsides of small wildflowers, cacti, and guanacoes; large snowcapped volcano tops in the distance; and believe it or not farmlands of corn and alfalfa crops. This is where the mountains meet el campo. Using the same methods, and at times the same infrastructire, as indigenous groups centuries ago, the people hadterraced the mountain side making the cliffs and hills stable and well irrigated places to grow corn and alfalfa. Just like the rice farmers in Sapa, Vietnam who had terraces the green hillsides, these places were I walk and hike were places where these people work and live. What a sight and what an experience. I had the freedom to walk through fields along mountain sides and to peak mountaintops following sheep herding trails. I could take in the scenery with every available sense—the smell of the flowers, the sight of the mountain fields, the sound of trickling streams, the touch of the prickly cactus and the soft sand, the tast of the fresh crisp air. Everything was so fresh and so crisp. Between the high altitude and the overpowering sense of the grandness of nature—I felt high, I felt free, I felt humbled, I felt happy.
I don`t know what this means for the rest of my travels. Maybe it reaffirms my desire to spend my time in el campo. Maybe this is a way for me to transition back into my desire to hike forests and peak mountains. Maybe this is a reminder of how spending my days in small towns and in nature makes me much happier than walking through city streets. But I am here now, and all I know is this place is magical and I am the luckiest person in the world.
¨Asì es la vida...lo que busca, encuentra.¨
¨This is the life, here. What you look for, you find.¨
-Goat Herder I met while hiking
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