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| Mi casa para 3 dias! - San Pedro de Atacama |
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So, I tried practicing my Spanish by journaling in the language instead of English. Only publishing the English translation here, because it's far less embarrassing.
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| Mi vista de la cafe Iko-Iko a la plaza |
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I put all my things away in my bedroom at mi nueva casita, and walked with Marlen, my hostess's friend, to the pueblo, a.k.a. the center of the town. When my bus pulled in, I was hungry and exhausted and was extremely hot because of the adrenaline and bus's heating system. Marlen suggested we walk to the pueblo after she made me coffee and I had a shower, and I nearly leapt on her I was so thankful for the suggestion. She pointed out the best coffee place in town - had I been that desperate for coffee back at the house? - and we parted ways after a Ciao! and kiss on the cheek.
Now, I'm sitting at the cafe Iko-Iko, looking onto the plaza, eating a wonderful sandwich with queso de cabra y champinones, and a cappuccino. I try not to wolf it down like the American animal I am.
Already, I can see that San Pedro de Atacama has a ton of stray dogs and a ton of tourists. I'm sitting next to a table full of them (tourists, not dogs)! I hope I make some friends here.
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| After I realize the tourists next to me aren't going to ask me to hang out and be friends forever, I walk myself down Peatonal Caracoles to book a tour to see El Geyser del Tatio the next morning, then back to the plaza to repose in the afternoon sun and read more Wild by Cheryl Strayed. |
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I'm interrupted by a biker-man who plops himself down a few paces from me to fix his bike wheel. My mind instantly flits to Peter back in MKE, and I hope he's doing okay. I'm brought back to reality by this Chilean biker-man with a man-bun, who's asking me in Spanish if I have a lighter. I must have given the same I-have-no-F'ing-idea-what-you-just-said-to-me-but-I'm-going-to-try-to-be-polite-and-smile look to him, and he asked me in English again. I say, "No, sorry," and he walks around to a few others in the vicinity to ask them. I turn my attention back to my book, but then a few a minutes later, he's asking me the first of what I will later call the 'typical tourist trifecta' of questions [De donde eres? Cuanto tiempo va a viajar? Desde donde viajes?/A donde vas despues?]. I tell him I'm from New York. The next question is not Cuanto tiempo va a viajar? or Desde donde viajes?/A donde vas despues?, though, but it's, "What are you doing right now? Are you busy?"
Completely thrown off, and a little intrigued that biker-man-bun-dude just asked me this, I pause for a second and size him up. He's rugged, attractive in that I'm-Latin-but-have-green-eyes-and-light-hair type of way, and seemed harmless. I respond, "I'm just reading. I'm not really that busy....", and we decide to go buy some beer to drink at his house now that he's done with work. I have no idea what I'm getting myself into, but the feeling is exhilarating. I decide to trust my instincts and go with it.
We end up at his house about 20 minutes later, the whole walk we're chatting about our backgrounds, our university degrees, our passions for the environment, etc. He opens the door to his house, and immediately apologizes for how messy it is. I say it's fine, my place back in MKE looked similar, and perch on a wooden bench. He flops on his bed, adjacent to said bench, and proceeds to show me some photos of the landscape around San Pedro, around Concepcion (where he grew up), etc., which led me to wonder if phone-photo-sharing being a new big part of Latin American culture my guidebook had failed to tell me about.
It's 10 PM by the time I tell him I need to go home, I have an early tour to the geysers in the morning. Thankfully, he lends me a jacket assuming I'm ill-prepared for the mountain cold at 6 AM (he's right, I am), and drives me home on his bike (never having ridden two to a bike before, let alone on unpaved, rocky desert roads, this is awesome and frightening at the same time) - but not before pointing out some major constellations I've never seen in my life - and we make arrangements to meet up the next day.
Dazed, confused, and happy about how I'd spent my first day in San Pedro de Atacama, I lay out my clothes for the next day, turn on my heated blanket and Seinfeld, and fall asleep.
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