El Juego Bonito

We dedicated much of the morning to calling home via Skype video to our respective families. It is impressive to be able to stay in touch from such a distance in such a remote location. Sometimes the Internet is a marvellous thing.

The sun has been getting progressively stronger and has rapidly melted the snow that fell in the mountains last week. A few days ago, the solar-powered water heater mounted on top of the roof of the hostel boiled over in the middle of the day, venting steaming hot water out of the overflow. We reduced the pressure by running the shower for a short while, which produced a spray of scalding water.

To cool down and take a break from catching up with these blogs, we took a walk to the market place and purchased two cups of mote con huesillo.

Mote con huesillo

This drink is typically Chilean and, while I first thought it included corn, it is actually made from cooked husked wheat (mote) and sun-dried peaches (huesillo). The peaches are rehydrated and boiled in a sugar solution, cooled and added to the wheat. This refreshing beverage is to be found sold everywhere in Chile and is such a part of the national identity that anything more quintessential is said to be "más chileno que el mote con huesillo".

As well as being able to make mote con huesillo, the ability to play (and general interest in) football is probably also one of the quintessential facets of the Chileno character. This fanaticism is not restricted to men, as our female Spanish teacher in Santiago was crazed for the 'national sport' and could not fathom our indifference to the approaching 'Copa América' and the sport in general (especially as English).

It is no surprise, therefore, that among even the limited facilities of San Pedro, there is a football pitch opposite the marketplace.

El juego bonito

Football is most often referred to as the hispanicised fútbol but can also be called balompié (balón = ball, pie = foot). Today there were a number of matches being played. The teams comprised young and old, fit and not so fit, but all were united by their passion for the 'beautiful game' (el juego bonito). How they manage to sustain a ninety-minute kick about in the searingly hot sun, I will never understand.

I have never seen anyone use the slightly less well appointed pitch near to our hostel, so I presume it is a former incarnation of the astroturfed, floodlit version.

Alternative pitch

For dinner, I put a selection of food together in an attempt to make a meal out of the sum of the parts in the fridge.

A meal of parts

Fried plantain met guacamole, tomatoes and goat's cheese, with quinoa to bind it all together.

Sandboarding in the Valley of Death

"Do you want to go sandboarding tomorrow?" asked one of the German guests at the hostel yesterday. "OK," said I, "where do we go?" "We just have to cycle through the Valley of Death to the dunes."

Wait. The Valley of What?!

La Valle de la Muerte is only a few kilometres out of San Pedro and could either be so named owing to the lack of flora and fauna there, or because of the ease with which one could get lost and perish in the arid environment.

The name of our destination doesn't seem at all ironic to the German guy, who is ten years younger than me and has snowboarding experience under his belt. As part of a group of three, he has recently been on an 80km round trip cycle ride into the Atacama desert. The idea of setting out on such a journey on a rented bicycle in dubious condition with no mobile phone reception rings alarm bells in my mind. Not so in his; he is the intrepid traveller, against which I often measure myself and find myself wanting. However, having missed the opportunity to sandboard in New Zealand, I was eager to give it a try. So, I agreed to go with him. K, wisely, stayed at home.

We hired bikes and sandboards from a shop in town, where he had previously rented those that withstood the epic desert journey, so I have some faith in their road worthiness. After having hired bikes in shocking condition before, these were surprisingly well maintained and even came with two new inner tubes and a pump. A couple of stray dogs, of the many in Chile, wandered into the shop and took an interest in what we were doing.

The equipment

The dunes are an easy five- or six-kilometre cycle ride from town. That said, nothing is all that easy at 2,400m elevation, especially physical exertion. With the boards strapped to our backs, we navigated the bumpy, dusty route through the red rocks of the valley and arrived at the foot of a 150m slope of sand. One of the dogs from the shop ran behind us the entire way, leading the way through the valley like our spirit guide.

A long way down

As we arrived, a group of people who had paid for an instructor and transport were learning on the slope. We made our way up to the ridge and looked down at the jeep that brought the others. Having strapped ourselves to the boards, the German leapt experimentally off and slid down. Tumbling off only at the end of the ride, his prowess at riding on snow clearly stood him in good stead. His complaint was that the ride was too slow on sand, owing to the higher friction. Attempting to get more speed led him to make an impressive head-over-heels descent of the slope.

Not so steep from down here

My first attempt was not without falling over - mostly overbalancing backwards as I reached any kind of velocity down the hill. The result was pockets, shoes, socks, ears, and nose full of sand. We were both dressed in jackets, hat, and trousers, despite (or because of) the desert sun. A pair of Frenchmen appeared, wearing little more than a pair of shorts and no top.

A Frenchman

Also being keen snowboarders, they demonstrated a reasonable level of competence on their first attempts. The faithful dog, having climbed to the top of the dune, chased one of them down, following the cloud of dust. In all, we managed nine trips up and down the slope, which felt like very few to gain competence in the sport. More, however, we could not have managed as the Sun rose and demonstrated why this area is desertified.

Shortly after returning home, the German contingent left for onward travel. This led to a much quieter environment come the evening. I was keen to cook an unusually naturally vegetarian (actually vegan) Chilean dish called porotos granados.

Porotos means beans and this dish is typically made in summer from fresh white tortola beans (similar to cannelini), fresh corn, zapallo - a giant pumpkin with a pale green skin and orange flesh - and basil (albahaca). The resulting stew seems rather a heavy dish for summer but was perfect for the chilly evening.

Full House

The communal breakfast table was full this morning, as all rooms of the small hostel are occupied. We swapped travel stories and plans with those present, many of whom were anticipating travelling over the border to Bolivia. However, this journey, as well as some trips to natural phenomena within Chile, require travelling through a pass at around 4000m elevation. For the last few days, this pass has been closed owing to snow and ice.

Today, the sun beat down with an intensity that made us incredulous that snow could persist anywhere in the region, even at such altitude. Indeed, the white covering of the mountains seems to be abating and, according to all reports, the pass over the mountains is open again.

We raided the artisan shops we had seen yesterday. Each shop is seemingly attended by a Atacameña and a child under the age of one in a pushchair in the corner. Far more than anywhere we have been thus far, the handiwork is tempting, especially since much is tailored to combat the cold weather experienced at either end of the day. We came away with jumpers and scarves that seemed ridiculous as we heaved the bags sweating in the midday desert heat.

After the spending spree, which went far beyond budget, we settled on a relatively cheap menú del día at vegetarian café La Estrella Negra. We were presented with a magnificently tasty and filling hamburguesa de soya with papas doradas.

Soya burger

Soya was again on the menu in the evening, as K concocted a flavoursome vegetarian 'bolognese' sauce to top off a bowl of pasta.

As at breakfast, so at dinner, as our meal coincided with those of other people in the hostel. We sank a fair amount of good Chilean Camenere and chatted with the fine folks. This has to be the friendliest place we have stayed.

Artisans at Work

It seems that San Pedro is a town of artisans. The streets abound with artisanal products, hand-made and eminently purchasable.

Artisan jumpers

We made our way through the tucked away stalls groaning under the weight of alpaca knitwear, decorations fashioned from wood or dried gourds, and natural remedies sourced from desert plants. For me it is the textiles that characterise the atacameño handiwork. Most are woollen garments designed to combat the chilling desert nighttime - scarfs, hats, long socks, gloves, jumpers - all are available in temptingly soft alpaca wool. In the purpose-built 'pueblo de artesanos', we found at least one woman at a loom, painstakingly producing chunky-knit ponchos.

Artisan village

Having had our fill of knitwear, we indulged in some artisanal ice creams. This time the shop came good with flavours sourced from local desert ingredients: algorrobo and chañar. Neither were bold flavours, and it turns out that alogorrobo is similar in many ways to carob, and so the ice cream had the same flavour as imparted by this ersatz chocolate, while chañar gave a subtle caramel note.

Artisan ice cream

Having been in email contact with the owner of Cervecería Saint Peter, I discovered that there was more than meets the eye to this hidden brewery. After a few words of halting Spanish to the ladies at Ayllu restaurant, we were met by the brewer and ushered behind the restaurant to visit the premises, which can be reached by invitation only.

The brewing premises were little more than a small room, but the brewer, who started the venture two years ago with his girlfriend, was happy to 'show us around'. In terms of artisan beer, he is certainly crafting from local ingredients but finds that the San Pedro water is not completely suitable and so uses the bottled variety. However, he highlighted a Chile-grown hop, Bravo, which makes up one of the seven in the Saint Peter Ascenso IPA.

While his customers in the vast majority prefer the golden ale he produces, flavoured with the herb rica rica, there were bottles of Ballast Point and Hertog Jan knocking around the brewery, so it wasn't a surprise to discover that he is a fan of big beers such as super-hoppy IPAs, Belgian tripels, porters and barley wines, as well as an experimental beer by Kross aged in Carmenere barrels, named Kuad. The line-up of Saint Peter beers reflect his adventurous palate. On recommendation we took away a few of his favourites for later. In terms of artisan credentials, table-mounted bottle-cappers were in evidence, and one of the bottles was grabbed from a box and labelled by hand as we purchased it.

Artisan beer

We congratulated ourselves on being able to sustain a conversation entirely in Spanish on such a technical subject. We can't claim to have understood everything, but, with confidence buoyed, we marched across the street to Queso y Olivias to source some queso de cabra (goat's cheese). As luck would have it, alongside artisan bread (natch), the 'emporio' also stocked soya mince.

With our newly procured artisan cheese, we arrived home to a much busier hostel than we left. Jostling for kitchen space, we crafted ourselves aubergine stuffed with soya mince, cheese and onion, alongside fried potatoes.

Exit Light, Enter Night

Incredibly for the desert, we were awoken last night by rainfall. If San Pedro only receives on average 100mm all year, it must have met this quota overnight.

We awoke to snow covering much of the distant mountains, which until now only had a dusting on their summits. We heard that trips requiring travel over the pass have been cancelled, including those to Uyuni in Bolivia.

Snow!!

Staying in close proximity to San Pedro, we took a walk to Pukará de Quitor - the ruins of a fort - just 3km north of town along the Río San Pedro.

River San Pedro

The fort was constructed in the 12th century by the Atacamenians in order to protect themselves from other bellicose tribes living in South America, most notably their neighbours the Aymara. The ruins still retain the walls of what would have been around 200 living spaces, where the people worked raising livestock, growing corn and collecting fruit from the algorrobo and chañar trees.

A series of small walls

Sadly, this lifestyle came to an abrupt end in the mid-16th century with the conquesting arrival of the Spanish, most notably Pedro de Valdivia, who had a habit of sacking entire villages and beheading the elders. For this reason, the place is also known as "town of the heads".

Heads

Speaking of history, K and I walked the round trip to the top of the hill and back home while drilling the conjugation of the Spanish past preterite tense. We had learned none of this during our two weeks intensive course in Santiago, but conversation quickly becomes dull when we cannot speak about things that have happened in times gone by. In typical Spanish style, there is not one but two 'simple' past tenses (ignoring the composite ones): the preterite, which is used to talk about completed actions and events, and the imperfect, which can be used to relate background context and undefined time periods. For example, "I learned to walk when I was two years old" would be translated as "aprendí (preterite) a caminar cuando tenía (imperfect) dos años". Super.

A quick meal was required after our walk, so I threw together some vaguely 'Chilean' rice. This was basically a pilaf of rice with onion, garlic, tomatoes, chilli, and courgette.

At 8pm, just as the sky had darkened, we were picked up by local Atacameño and amateur astronomer, Jose Corante, for an evening stargazing. He drove us and a small group out into the desert, where he had several telescopes installed in his garden. Sat, snuggled under a warm blanket in the rapidly cooling desert air, we listened as he explained the history and principles of astronomy.

Jose explained the history of the theories surrounding planetary movement and the motion of celestial bodies, from Aristotle and Ptolemy's geocentric movement of the spheres, through the heretical heliocentric model proposed by Copernicus, which demoted God's creation from the centre of the Universe and was not taken at all well by the Catholic church, up to Kepler and Newton's observations of elliptical orbits and proof of the role of gravity in shaping them.

While it is certainly not clear how ancient cultures managed to predict the motion of large bodies, such as the Sun and Moon, for ceremonial and agricultural purposes without such sophisticated equipment as reflecting telescopes to make observations and derive elaborate theories and models akin to those in newly 'enlightened' Europe, there is evidence that they understood and managed to harness the seasons.

Once the Atacamenians settled and began to raise livestock and cultivate crops, they set their agricultural calendar by the position that the Sun rose over the horizon. At winter solstice, the Sun rises directly over Mount Licancabur, while the summer solstice and equinoxes coincide with two other significant peaks visible from the Atacama desert.

While much of this theory might be school-level science for some, Jose presented it in such an entertaining and enthusiastic manner, that we barely noticed the encroaching numbness of our toes. Fortunately a cup of deliciously spiced hot chocolate was presented just at the right moment to defrost us.

Milky Way

With such an expansive view of the southern sky at this latitude, and with little light pollution save for the brightness of the Moon itself, Jose's lecture was set to the unparalleled backdrop of the Milky Way. He equated navigation of the night sky using sky maps to locating a position on Earth using coordinates of latitude and longitude. The difference being that four coordinates - azimuth, elevation, right ascension, and declination - enable astronomers to more easily track bodies as they move, or rather as the Earth turns.

So often, we forget the magnitude of the visible Universe and experience our galaxy and those beyond it as a two-dimensional 'blanket' of stars. Jose's visual explanation - complete with a green laser pointer that seemingly reached into the infinity of space - gave us a three-dimensional frame of reference, in which adjacent stars of equivalent brightness might be four and four hundred light years away, respectively.

Thoroughly conversant with our place in things, we probed the Milky Way courtesy of Jose's telescopes: four 'Dobsonian' telescopes, which simplify the operations to two axes - elevation and azimuth - and two more Newtonian telescopes with control over all four parameters. One of these was motorised, allowing objects to be tracked, as we noticed that, without recalibration, the simple scopes quickly lost sight of the area of the sky on which they had been trained.

Being in the southern hemisphere, the bright North Star is not visible and in the equivalent location in the southern sky, there is nothing remarkable. However, Jose pointed out the southern cross - four stars forming a cross - which was used by navigators, as well as the false cross, which misled them when the southern cross was below the horizon.

Although seemingly familiar with all 88 constellations in the sky, Jose trained the telescopes on the closest stars, as well as distant open star clusters, which burst out of seemingly empty areas of the sky, binary systems, nebulae, planets - the rings of Saturn and the moons of Jupiter were clearly visible - and, of course, the closest body to us: the Moon.

Lunatics

It was an incredible and awe-inspiring evening.

Knock, Knock. Who's There? No Bodies

San Pedro is home to a small museum covering the history of life in the Atacama desert, which was set up by a Belgian priest Gustavo Le Paige. Having been sent over to Chile to help another priest, only to discover that he had died several months previously (presumably why they thought he might need help), Le Paige eventually settled into a pastoral role in San Pedro.

Le Paige

Aside from looking after the well-being of the town and its people, he also took a keen interest in archeology. Alongside the pots, baskets, tools, weapons, pipes, and snuff trays that he discovered buried under the dust and sand, he also exhumed several mummified bodies of Atacameños (people of Atacama). These were, until very recently, on display in the museum. However, understandable concerns were raised by the current Atacameño community - who only recently seem to have been given a voice - about the dignity of displaying the remains of their ancestors to gawping tourists.

Snuff tray

Whether right or not, the museum heeded the indigenous people's request and removed the bodies. However, now the central pit, which previously housed the mummies, has been hurriedly converted into a simulacrum of an archeological site, complete with tape measure, trowel, and safety glasses.

Empty pit

During our travels, I like to pick up unusual ingredients with which to cook. This can sometimes threaten to backfire - such as the poisonous beans in Thailand - but mostly ends in delicious results. We picked up some unusual-looking corn at the market the other day - larger than usual and mottled white and purple. After soaking the kernels overnight and observing no change, we went back and asked the friendly market stall holder for advice. From her gestures, more than her words, we understood that the corn was meant for popping. Unlike the usual variety, which turn themselves inside out with the force of the escaping steam, these kernels puff only slightly but made for a tasty snack.

Kernels: before and after

Trying to cook local dishes using produce at hand is sometimes a challenge. Chilean cuisine has not inspired me a great deal, porotos granados aside. However, this evening, K had the marvellous idea of stuffing tomatoes with quinoa (a grain of Andean origin, but still surprisingly expensive).

Stuffed tomatoes

The tomatoes exploded somewhat but, served alongside a ratatouille of vegetables, fried plantain and (of course) avocado, they made a filling and tasty meal of local ingredients.

Chilling, Chilly and Chilli in Chile

Some cloud has arrived over San Pedro. Being the desert, there is little chance of rain (apparently less than 100mm per year on average) but it certainly makes a difference to the temperature. With the warmth of the sun's rays blocked, the air temperature does not rise above the chilly nighttime lows. However, the cloud adds texture to the skies above already spectacular scenery.

We have been cooling our heels for the last couple of days in order to acclimatise to the altitude, before setting off on any adventures. However, we have noticed that everything gets covered in a thin layer of dust if it sits still too long. The screen on which I am writing this needs a wipe down every hour or so. To prevent this happening to us too, we took ourselves into town for a delicious ice cream.

About town

The shop promised some unusual atacamenian flavours - rica rica, chañar, quinoa - but sadly did not have these in today. Fortunately, the black forest (selva negra) and fig (higo) flavours were packed full of real fruit (and cake) and reliably tasty.

We enjoyed the ice creams while people watching in the main square, Plaza de Armas, while the sun had deigned to come out. A large sign bearing "cuidemos el medio ambiente" exhorted us to care for the environment.

Back at home, we drew on another staple recipe in the vegetarian's arsenal: black bean chilli.

Chilli

The green chilli pepper we sourced from the market proved to be underspecified in Scoville's (Chilean cuisine lacks much in spice for my tastes), so we pepped things up with the ubiquitous merquén - a mixture of smoked pepper and coriander.

San Pedro

Breakfast at our lodgings largely comprises bread and jam. The Chileans are bread crazy and eat it with practically every meal, even if they also eat rice. There are many different kinds of bread, the one which we ate this morning comes in small sturdy rounds with dimples in the top, and is called pan amasado - literally 'kneaded bread'.

Pan-demonium

As we leave by the front door, we are confronted by the imposing presence of the volcanic mountain, Licancabur, its bulk split between Chile and Bolivia (unevenly in favour of the former), as it rests on the border between the two countries.

Licancabur

The mountain's peak rises to an elevation of almost 6km (at 5,920m it is around two-thirds of an Everest). Its summit is well beyond the limit at which people should suffer from oxygen deprivation and potentially pass out. This is around 15,000 feet (4,572m), the altitude at which I last year leapt out of a plane. The reason for not ascending higher was that low pressure would cause us to pass out in the unpressurised cabin of the plane. However, climbers make the ascent far more gradually than an aircraft, acclimatising as they go, meaning they can climb beyond this limit, even if they eventually need oxygen tanks at the summit (as in the case of Everest).

At an elevation of only 2,400m, altitude sickness can still cause problems. However, a departing German couple gave us some dried coca leaves and sweets with essence of coca, in case we have trouble ascending farther. The coca leaf is the same as is processed to produce cocaine, but the alkaloids are present in such low amounts in its raw form that it shouldn't be habit forming. Nevertheless, it is illegal to take the leaf across borders.

In the last few days before we left, Santiago had become much cooler with the transition from autumn to winter. San Pedro, however, has cold mornings and nights, but an intense sun that heats up the ground and walls of the buildings. We soaked up some of the sun we had been missing before taking a walk into town.

Aside from the main square, with the currently being restored church and high-profile police station for the Carabineros, the main street in town is Caracoles.

Ever since yesterday, I've been seeing this shape

The volcano looms over the town and manages to insinuate itself into any view. Practically every place in town is a restaurant, tourist agency, or artisan craft shop. Or craft beer brewery!

Atacama craft beer

Actually, there is only one brewery, Cervecería Saint Peter, which seems to be tucked away somewhere on Toconao, but which appears to be fronted by the restaurant Ayllu. This stocks bottled beers by the brewery that claims that "el desierto no es tan seco" (the desert is not as dry) since they have been in operation.

I'm not sure where they source their water, as there isn't much in the arid desert, but the adjuncts certainly have a local flavour. When we were there, three beers were available, each unique to Atacama as they use ingredients native to the region: A golden ale with rica rica (a verbena-like herb that gives a lemony, soapy, sorachi-hop taste), a Scotch ale with chañar (a fruit that is processed into a sweet dark molasses), and a Porter with algarrobo (a green pod-like fruit that is also used to produce an atacamenian liquor for celebrations).

Despite only stopping by to sample a couple of beers, we were given a small plate of rice to eat. We thought this was the waitress mothering us, so that we didn't drink on an empty stomach, as she was also concerned we would burn sat outside. However, it transpires that proprietors in San Pedro are nervous of serving drinks without food, since the authorities shut down a number of unlicensed venues where tourists were routinely getting drunk.

To be honest, we probably would have eaten a meal, but San Pedro is expensive by Chilean standards. Prices seems to be roughly 1.5 to 2 times as dear as Santiago (the beers were 4,500CLP, versus 2,800 for similar artisan ales in the capital, while a plate of chorrillana would have set us back 12,000, and could be had in Santiago for under 6,000). Given this, we approached the local market to get some produce for cooking at home.

The vegetables were good quality and we simply threw together a medley of tomato, aubergine, onion, and courgette on rice, set off by a guacamole made from the most magnificently ripe and tasty avocados. After weeks of eating bread and stodge in Santiago, it is a pleasure to tuck into a plate of fresh and tasty vegetables.

Vegetable medley

Avocados are abundant in South America and delicious. I believe the taste is so good because they are allowed to ripen on the vine, rather than being cold-shipped as green bullets to the UK, where they sit in the fruit bowl for two weeks before being forgotten about and turning brown.

Atacama Desert

We left Santiago this morning to make our way north to the small town of San Pedro in the Atacama desert. Chile is a remarkably long country, especially after it annexed parts of Bolivia and Peru in the early 20th century. Given its geography, the bus journey takes a solid 24 hours. Unwilling to spend a whole day (and night) on a bus, we opted for a flight to the nearest big town, Calama.

West coast Chile

After flying over 1200km north, we still found ourselves within the same country's borders, but the landscape was very different. The ground came up to meet the aircraft, as we had taken off from a 500m elevation only to land at 2,400m above sea level.

A bus connected us via the one road through the desert to San Pedro de Atacama, passing through strange red-white landscapes, dominated by a range of volcanic mountains.

"Hello? Civilisation?"

The snow-capped peaks aside, it was though we had landed on Mars. The small town of San Pedro was the first sign of civilisation we encountered in the 100km journey from Calama.

San Pedro has the appearance of a wild west settlement - the one-storey adobe buildings forming narrow dust-filled alleyways barely wide enough for cars. In fact, every surface is coated in a thick layer of terracotta dust. The town largely survives on the interest in the natural wonders showcased in the surrounding environment.

After The Fall

We checked in to our small lodgings just outside of town. In fairness, it is only a ten-minute walk to the main square, but San Pedro is so tiny that our accommodation more or less backs onto the open desert.

Home in the desert

The place itself is a small courtyard surrounded by five bedrooms and a space for communal breakfast. The building is an adobe-covered space full of natural wood branches holding up the shade, with a couple of hammocks slung casually between them.

Hot in the day, cold at night

We ventured into town to find sustenance. For a dusty town in the desert, San Pedro offers a far greater variety of dining choices than we had imagined. Without much thought, we stumbled into the first (and I suspect only) all-vegetarian restaurant we came across.

Stuffed pepper

Estrella Negra is only a few tables and chairs in the corner of a much larger restaurant sharing the same space. However, they served up a filling menu of soup and pimentón relleno (stuffed pepper) and even had a soya hamburger for K to enjoy.

School's Out

The results of Wednesday's Spanish test were released today. Despite my naysaying, I managed a pleasing 95%. This grade has to be taken in the context that it was the most basic level of exam possible in a foreign language. A pass at A1 level means little when tested on the mean Chileno streets of Santiago, where people fire words indiscriminately and don't have the patience or practice of listening to beginners fumble to construct a sentence.

After a small 'graduation' ceremony for those passing and/or leaving the school, all that was left for me was the individual conversation class. In this, we discussed the merits and pitfalls of travelling solo, how to meet people, and how to avoid moving through a country in a cultural bubble full only of other non-native travellers. Unfortunately, while cheap and with good amenities, hostels often suffer from this kind of monoculture. Staying in Santiago has been our first experience of hostel living on this trip and part of me wishes we had taken the time to organise a homestay with a family.

During our discussion of cultural norms and stereotypes, I learned that Chileans are considered to be the English of Latin America. This is put down to their aversion to confrontation and their reserved nature, at least relative to the fiery temperament of their neighbours. While queue-jumping piques their sense of fairness, nobody will stand up to the transgressor. This. Is. Chile.

And that was it. School's out forever. I toasted my success with a well deserved beer or three at favourite watering hole, Café 202.

Bottles!

We finished the day with a peculiar Chilean concoction, called chorrillana.

Mock meat mountain

Chorrillana is a mountain of chips more suitable for four people, which, as though this weren't enough cholesterol, is then topped with fried onions, sliced beef, and eggs (or in the case of this veganised version, mock beef gluten and tofu). Farewell Santiago.

The Glorious Navy

Today is a national holiday in Chile in honour of the nation's navy, or more specifically the naval glories, as it is known as El Día de las Glorias Navales.

However, the day chosen, 21st May, commemorates a less-than-glorious event - the Battle of Iquique - on the same day in 1879, in which a Chilean ship blockading the Peruvian port was destroyed.

This battle was among the first of the initial naval campaign in the 4-year-long War of the Pacific between Chile, Bolivia, and Peru.

This battle, and the war of which it was a part, was ostensibly caused by a controversial 10 cents tax hike imposed by Bolivia on Chilean mining operations in territory mutually agreed to belong to Bolivia, but from which it would receive tax revenue. In reality, there were already simmering border disputes around the nitrate-rich Atacama area - nitrate was used both as fertiliser and in explosives - and the treaty-busting tax increase catalysed all-out war.

Peru entered the fray as it was allied with Bolivia through a previously undisclosed treaty and refused to declared its neutrality. This led to Chile occupying the Bolivian mining town of Antofagasta and blockading the  Peruvian port of Iquique to prevent them gaining command of the sea. Despite the losses on 21st May, Chile's subsequent land assault was eventually successful and boundaries between the three countries were redrawn in a peace treaty, allowing dominant Chile to annex both of the above-named towns, leaving Bolivia landlocked - a subject which is sore until this day and which is currently being taken to the World Court by president Morales to once again give Bolivia access to the sea.

In Santiago, all of these skirmishes seemed an age away - the Bolivian corridor to the sea across Chilean land is rarely mentioned. The day was cloudy and rather cooler than of late, but still warmer than most British summer days with a high of 20°C. Still, the local Chileans were duffled up even if they were running or cycling up St Cristóbal hill - the mount that overshadows much of the centre of town.

We joined the well wrapped-up folk on their day off for a jaunt up to the summit. Although rising to 880m above sea level, the climb is only a few hundred metres up a dirt path to the peak. Still, there is a funicular for those not inclined or unable to make the ascent.

View from the top of San Cristóbal

The hill was for a while privately owned, during which time the rock was quarried for construction in Santiago. The highest point is now surmounted by a large statue of the Virgin Mary and an amphitheatre for outdoor ceremonies.

Gran Torre - the tallest building in Latin America

Having 'summited' the small cerro, we attempted a different route down that would lead us to the east side of town, away from the access point in Bellavista. A few unsuccessful attempts led us down steep dirt tracks, which were gleefully being used by local downhill mountain bikers. Eventually we discovered the less trodden Sendero de las Grandes Travesías, which brought us out into the affluent and residential area around the autumnal tree-lined Av. Pedro de Valdivia.

Autumnal avenue

A few streets from here, we found El Huerto - an upscale vegetarian restaurant (commensurate with its surroundings), which was not only open on the public holiday but doing a roaring trade. The waiters and waitresses were run off their feet attending to the flood of customers demanding all-vegetarian dining. I was flabbergasted that this kind of venture could not only survive, but thrive in meat-obsessed Chile.

Middle-class vegetarianism

K and I both plumped for the 'Anatolia' menu of the day, which included a Turkish potato soup, spinach pancake, babaganoush, hummus, olives and roasted carrots, followed by baked pear and a cinnamon-spiced compôte. The food was well presented and reasonably tasty, but slightly overpriced owing to the location.

La Prueba

The end of our 2-week Spanish course is in sight. A test (una prueba) usually accompanies the graduation from the course, traditionally taken on the last Thursday. However, since tomorrow is a national holiday (feriado), the test fell today.

The morning started dark, with an unusually overcast sky and light drizzle. I have made it a habit to walk to school wearing a T-shirt, drawing askance looks from the Chilean passers-by, who are muffled up for winter. The temperature at this time of the morning is usually healthily in the teens, but even I donned a jumper in this morning's chill. The streets were also relatively empty, presumably as the exodus for the holiday weekend begins. Thursday is the only official day off, but many will make a four-day weekend and flee the city.

The test proved much more difficult than I had imagined. Instead of testing solely the knowledge we had gained in class, which has largely focused on use of the present tense, the article offered for comprehension and subsequent questioning included constructs unfamiliar from the teaching material.

The subject of the afternoon conversation class was sparked by a newspaper article on how the majority of genes of the average Chilean come from Europeans - versus indigenous Latin American people or from Africa. While the 'discovery' by Chilean geneticists was incidental to their search for a cure to certain diseases suffered by Chileans, my teacher considered the tone of the article (or at least the motivation behind its particular spin) to be symptomatic of deeply entrenched racism in the country. She's radical like that.

I had to agree, even with my shaky grasp of the article's contents, that the subtext behind the headline was, at best, suspect and, at its ugliest, a celebration of the Chilean people's ethnic purity and an attempt to distance the 'average' Chileno from indigenous Americans with associations of poverty and poor education, and, by extension, to align themselves with affluent, developed, white-skinned Europe. It was a nasty window into a world that seemed all too familiar to me from reading the British press and listening to received opinions on immigrants, their doubtful qualities and their apparently deleterious effect on British society.

The subsequent text presented for comprehension revealed a similar set of erroneous beliefs about immigrants and exploded the myths one by one. Immigrants to Chile are predominantly Peruvian, are better educated than many Chileans, and do not seek to burden the public infrastructure, paying for their use of the education and health systems as any other. However, stereotypes and prejudices cause specious logic to take root in the public consciousness. Immigrants from neighbouring countries with a higher percentage of indigenous people and questions over an individual's racial composition co-mingle in a way that leaves a bitter taste in the mouth.

The teacher was surprised to learn of similar, if not identical, concerns from a certain camp in Britain (naming no Ukip voters). She wondered how such negative stereotypes of immigration could persist after decades and centuries of cultural mixing on the island. I conjectured that it was an attitude born of fear of change and difference, in which each new generation of Britons (themselves descended from immigrants) may fear and resent the effect that the newly arriving immigrants will have on their established society.

Inside-out rolls

As if to underline the cross-cultural influences, the area around the school abounds with sushi restaurants. I'm not entirely sure how the archetypal Japanese dish arrived in Chile, as there does not appear to be a large Asian community. I suspect its popularity came by way of California, as the offering is almost exclusively the filled and sliced rolls that have sparked a slew of variations in North America.

A little digging revealed a local enterprise serving up an inventive vegetarian and vegan take on the California rolls. WunjoSushi does not have shop premises - the owner makes and sells the sushi directly from their apartment. Having placed an order (pedido), I arranged to pick it up in the evening. Finding the flat was simple enough, but being buzzed in to exchange cash for sushi felt more like making a shadier exchange and I left wondering whether I would be picked up by the Carabineros to investigate the contents of my bag.

The mixed box contained three varieties of 'inside out' rolls, with the nori on the inside, leaving the outside ready for a variety of treatments. We had palta, tomate envuelta en almendras (avocado and tomato rolled in almonds), sevillana, zanahoria, queso en sésamo mixto (pepper, carrot, cheese in mixed sesame), and champiñón, palmito, queso en ciboulette (mushroom, palm hearts, cheese in chives). Each was delicious and reminded us of how much we miss Asian food.

The Sky is Blue, Your Argument is Illogical

There was more thinking about language today as Spanish school continued. Classroom and book learning, in contrast to real-life practice, necessarily leads to absorbing a lot of meta-language - i.e. those words and phrases that are necessary to talk about learning the language. So, among the simple first sentences that we learn ("I want to buy a cake"), we are soon able to talk about the parts and structure of the language, knowing that the ostensibly simple sentence contains a subject and object, a personal pronoun, an indefinite article, and a noun, as well as a periphrasis comprising two verbs, one conjugated into the first person singular form of the indicative present tense and the other in the infinitive.

Given that language teachers have a background in linguistics and, presumably, a love of language, it is easy for them to forget what an additional burden learning these concepts and the Spanish nomenclature (verbo conjugado, etc.) is for the beginner.

Fortunately I share their fascination with grammar and, armed with knowledge of a couple of other foreign languages, many of the concepts are familiar to me. However, others in the class are rightly baffled when asked to conjugate an irregular reflexive verb into the third person plural.

The theme of language as a determining factor in how one interprets the world, constructs a mental model of it, and ultimately interacts with it, continued in the afternoon. My teacher introduced the subject by way of an article claiming that the constructs of the language one uses can have an effect on one's behaviour, such as the propensity to save versus spend money - apparently those people whose mother tongue does not so easily allow them to express desires about the future, tend to hold on to their money. Similarly, simple, regular words for numbers allow for better mental arithmetic, while bad language (garabatos) has been shown to cause a stress response in people, while euphemisms do not.

In Spanish, a clear distinction is drawn between two shades of blue - the light blue of the sky (celeste) and a darker, deeper blue (azul). Both these terms are in common use and, while English has many specific terms for shades of blue - indigo, violet, turquoise, cyan - we tend not to use them in everyday speech. The article claimed that labelling the spectrum of colours in one's mind and speech enriches the direct experience as well as communication with others.

This interaction between world and beholder of the world, in which one's perceptions are filtered through a net of one's memories and experiences, and coloured by the palette of language we have at our disposal with which to express ourselves, reminded me of the Wallace Steven's poem that K is often telling me about. She says that the Blue Guitar is a metaphor for how reality and imagination are inextricably intertwined, the one changing the other in such a way that no one person can ever objectively perceive reality.

Things as they are

Away from such highfalutin concepts as the nature of reality, the Chileans have a charming use of language that seems to defy nutritional logic. A hot dog is locally known as a completo. This is - I am told - because it represents a 'complete' meal, containing, as it does, meat (the dog), bread, and vegetables - tomatoes and chucrut (sauerkraut), or tomatoes, avocado and mayonnaise if you indulge in an 'Italiano'.

I read the free metro newspaper to see how my perception of UK news would be changed when viewed through the veil of Spanish language and reporting.

El periódico

A short article reported on the recent general election result (a surprise Conservative majority) but seemed most concerned that Cameron's government had increased the percentages of women, homosexuals and ethnic minorities. In fact, the statistics show that it will be the 'gayest' government in the whole world. The Queen's opening of Parliament next Wednesday was mentioned, in which the head of state was referred to as Isabel II, which I though was rather sweet. I wondered whether this was a reference to the historical Spanish monarch.

Some naughty beers were had at Café 202 after school, and then on to Bellavista for some food at recommended Restoran Galindo. This turned up a surprise in the form of their own cerveza artesenal among a long list of good brews.

Porotos granados

A Galindo stout went down rather nicely with a bowl of traditional porotos granados - a stew/soup of white beans, corn, pumpkin and basil.

Replica

Spanish week 2 began today. We were granted a brief reprieve, and a lie-in, as lessons didn't start until 10am - after the new cohort had taken their placement test.

With some new joiners in the class - while others had left - I feared that we would end up repeating last week's curriculum and exercises. Fortunately, this was not the case. While last week focused principally on nouns and adjectives, this week was all about the verb.

For such a progressive school, the lesson today bore all the hallmarks of the traditional image of a Latin teacher's drilling verb conjugation, especially given the similarity of Spanish to the dead tongue. At one point we found ourselves reciting the conjugation familiar to many a schoolboy - amo, amas, ama, amamos, amáis*, aman.**

* vosotros form (informal second person plural) not actually used in Chilean Spanish.

** Observe the following Latin conjugation for the similarities to Spanish: amo, amas, amat, amamus, amatis, amant.

The afternoon's conversation class largely revolved around the differences we could expect to find when travelling north to Bolivia and Peru. Chile - especially Santiago - has seemed very familiar and, without being told, we could easily think we were in a Spanish city in Europe. Farther north, we are told, there is a higher concentration of indigenous people and we can expect a much different landscape. Our teacher believes, rightly in some cases, that many Europeans see Latin America as a homogenous culture, a hot-blooded vida loca full of fiestas, tango and salsa dancing. Chile is actually much more understatedly European than its neighbours. While I have heard 'latin' music being played, I haven't seen a single person dancing.

Being Monday, tonight was welcome drinks for the new joiners. This meant terremoto - the odd Chilean pineapple ice cream cocktail named 'earthquake'. Apparently the second round of terremoto is called the replica - 'aftershock'. With replicas in hand, we tried to imagine that our Spanish was any better than a week ago.

Cordillera de la Costa

Just an hour or so northwest of Santiago, close to Valparaíso, lies the cordillera de la costa - a tiny mountain range in comparison to the vast, overshadowing silhouette of the Andes to the east. However, in contrast to the arid, snow-capped peaks of the Andes, the Parque Nacional La Campana is a (relatively) lush microclimate, replete with the distinctive Chilean wine palm.

Chilean wine palm

These palms, which at one point were almost rendered extinct, have been reintroduced and flourish in the natural oasis of the national park.

Leg or (tree ) trunk

Their distinctive trunk, grey and with the leathery look and shape of an elephant's leg, dot the hills and valleys of the park, which is overlooked by the eponymous La Campana (climbed by none other than Charles Darwin).

La Campana

Humidity from the sea gets trapped here, allowing the palms, cacti and many other kinds of trees only seen in the south to flourish. The particular microclimate created here brings some of the verdant south to this arid area of Chile. There are no rivers and streams here - the only moisture being brought in from the sea - and yet there is a waterfall.

Microclimate

With a small organised group from the school, led by the indomitable Jacqui, we took an 18km hike across the park, climbing briefly to enjoy the stunning view of the waterfall emerging from the cactus-strewn rocks. The views on our return leg were particular impressive, as an afternoon mist had veiled the distant hills.

Cactus country

Tired, we drove towards home, stopping briefly to recharge our batteries with an enormous and fresh empanada de queso al horno.