48. From brownish Atacama Desert to the white salt flats of Bolivia

By Filipe Morato Gomes	Where is San Pedro de Atacama?
I entered the sad landscapes of Atacama Desert, Northern Chile, where everything is completely dry and brown. I then visited some astonishing lagoons on the Andes, horse rode thought the sand of the desert, warmed up in geothermic geysers and appreciated the elegance of flamingos. And then white colour started to dominate the scenery, preannouncing what I'll meet at the amazing Bolivian salt flats of Uyuni.

Desert. According to a dictionary, it is “an extremely dry region, with very few and rudimentary vegetation”. Right, but for me, just arrived from Central Chile, Atacama was much more than that. It was a huge change in the landscape, a new sensation, a gust of fresh air. I had just entered one of the driest places on Earth and the astonishment I felt could not have been greater.

A view from San Pedro de Atacama, Northern Chile

From the bus window to Northern Chile, the landscapes I could see had a distressing beauty. Everything was brown, almost unchangeable, sad but touching, remembering the moon surface I've seen in films and pictures. The soil was totally broken in pieces because of the shortage of rainy water. People say that it never rains in Atacama. It's not hard to believe.

One of the few exceptions, San Pedro de Atacama, is a small village which travellers use as the main gateway to the natural attractions of the region. It is an oasis in the middle of the desolation. San Pedro is located in a green-spotted area, covered by that brown all over the village. The houses are made of adobe, which give the streets a special and unique charm. The rhythm of life is slow and lazy, ideal for a couple of days resting from the South-American parts of all worldwide travellers' journeys. San Pedro de Atacama is indeed is one of those small spots where, despite the differences from being at home, a traveller feels comfortable, as if he were on holidays from a long trip. There are some places like that spread all over the world. Yangshuo, in the Chinese province of Guangxi, and Pai, in the north of Thailand, are comparable examples I visited a few months ago.

In spite of the tranquillity, there was an extraordinary paradox in San Pedro de Atacama. On one hand, the income of the population comes mostly from tourism. Hostels, restaurants, internet cafes and travel agencies abound in its bystreets, competing for gringos attention. On the other hand, I was told that the atacameños - natives of Atacama region -, very proud of their origin, do not cohabit smoothly with foreigners and compatriots from other regions of Chile that moved thereto. “I've been living here for seven years and I'm still seen as a stranger; in some shops people like me are still looked down upon”, a Chinese worker at a hostel told me. Xavier, driver and tourist guide, confirmed the discrimination. “I'm an engineer from Santiago, and I came here when I lost my job. I am a foreigner in Atacama”, he assured.

Flaminos at National Flamingo Reserve, Chile

This contradiction is likely to have historical origins. In a lecture during a visit to the region, Xavier explained: “The atacameños tried to resist the Incas' advance when they arrived in Atacama, in their process of territorial expansion. They cooperated with the Spaniards, thinking that this second invader would be more propitious to the preservation of their culture. They must have been deceived by the Spanish intentions. The marks of the cultural adaptation process the autochthons were the target of, make them show, even today, strong resistances concerning the foreigners”, he concluded. However, this is something not shown in the friendly relation they keep with tourists.

For a couple of days I went on with my visit to the surrounding regions. What I could observe was absolutely amazing. I spent days immersed in the freaks Nature had presented Atacama with. Tatio Geysers, for example, at 4.200 metres high, impressed anyone due to their visual exoticism. Blowers strove to heat the glacial and rarefied air of a dawn at the heights. At twilight, the skies lit the mountainous contours with a fluorescent white colouration I have never seen anywhere else.

Miñiques, a lagoon located at Andean uplands, Chile

A horse ride along the desert landscapes revealed itself as an excellent way to penetrate into the brown desolation of the desert. A journey to Miñiques and Miscanti lagoons, located in the Andean uplands, was a delight for the senses, in spite of the breading difficulties height caused. In another lagoon, situated in the so called National Flamingo Reserve, I could observe the synchronized elegance of the flight of those rose-coloured creatures. And the white, simple, beautiful, church made of adobe in the tiny village of Machuca, just at the foot of a hill, was a wonderful view. The Quebrada del Jerez, on its turn, was another radical change in the landscape, where stony slopes hid a fertile depression, with water running with relative abundance in a medium-sized stream.

At last, an incursion to the salty ground of Atacama - the third biggest salt flat on the planet - revealed a new and fascinating monochromy. I left the deadly brown of the desert to penetrate into the bright white of the salt. The exact same white that is waiting for me in Southwest Bolivia.

(originally written in Portuguese)

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