Friday 23rd
They really are heads!!
Not only did we get the bizarre cocktail snacks, but in the morning, the new love of my life, the manjar biscuit, accompanied by a carton of peach nectar. Luxury.
After emerging a little dazed and disappointed with the change in weather from desert sunshine to Lake District-esque grey cloud, we set off, packs on, to walked to Maria’s Casa, our hostel in La Serena. We were greeted by one of the hostel owners, who was apparently waiting for other people, but his directions seemed so convoluted and took us down a dodgy street, that we began to wonder if he was some weirdo who hangs around the bus station and enjoys sending tourists off on wild goose chases.
It turned out not to be the case though, and we found the hostel only two roads back from the terminal. It was Maria’s house – literally – and as such, very homely; plants and nice furniture, a lovely kitchen. Outside, the walls were painted a cheerful yellow, and picnic benches lined the passageway to the abundant and meadow-like garden. Our room was at the furthest end, looking out with huge French windows onto the garden; a lovely little bolthole, if slightly damp!!
Our first priority was laundry as San Pedro was way too expensive to wash anything there, so off we trotted with a bag of clothes, and a mission to find the Tur Bus office and buy some tickets, before we started to explore the town. Our chores complete, we visited the ubiquitous Santa Isabel supermarket and got lunch – rolls, cheese, snickers and water. As we sat in the beautiful park chowing down on our feast(!) David was approached by an older woman who looked decidedly gypsy-esque: long skirt, hobnail boots, floaty scarf-thing and gold teeth. A bit of a giveaway. Being the polite and kind-hearted guy he is, he humoured her for a little while, and then her mate came over to me; to whom I gave short shrift, as by now the first one had pulled out tarot cards and I was suspicious about how she was going to try and fleece us…. At that point though, a Chilean bloke came up to us and said ‘I’ve been looking for you everywhere!’ As a girl, you become accustomed to rescuing friends from dodgy men, and so I immediately recognised the strategy and thought he was offering to ‘save’ us from the gypsies. After his interruption, they soon b*ggered off, and he told us that the women always hang around the park and were really ‘dangerous’ because they were adept pick pockets.
We thanked him and decided to exit the park to avoid being accosted further, and I felt such happiness at his gesture – to come and help us when there was no imperative for him to do so other than sheer altruism – made me believe again in the kindness of strangers. I wondered how many Londoners would do that for someone in Trafalgar Square if they saw them getting harrassed? I hope some of them would. After thinking about the state of British society, the more uncomfortable question was much closer to home: would I have done that for strangers if I had been in the Chilean’s shoes?
In our hurry to get out of the park, and forget about our spoiled picnic in the bit of sun that la Serena could muster, we found ourselves near the Museum of pre Columbian Art. It was on our ‘to-see’ list, so we seized the moment, and ventured in. I have to say, the museum was small and not exactly ground-breaking in its revelations or aesthetics, but the real highlight for me – albeit a slightly morbid one – was getting to see mummies and shrunken heads! I’d heard tell of these in Cusco, but the museum which had them in was closed when we wanted to go, and then we discovered that you needed the expensive boleto turistico to get in, so we didn’t manage it in the end….
After the long walk home in the greying drizzle, we reached Maria’s Casa and the weather brightened up for us, so we sat in the gorgeous garden and had bread (I managed to find brown bread for the first time since the UK – woohoo!) and salad – with the addition of peppers and olives to the usual cheese, onion and tomato, it was our best one yet!
allysadventuresinwonderlands 