09.3 Crossroads

At nine-thirty, they passed Calama and climbed Route 24 heading north. Dry desert on both sides and endless highway in the front and miles behind. Mountain dust covered the car as they stopped to fill at Chiquicamata.

They continued on non-stop driving on Wednesday, keeping on cruise to brush off the electricity transmission towers on the sides. Long hours on the road and on a warm engine, they reached the intersection before dusk. At that point, Marina opened the window to feel cold air. Madeleine asked a truck driver for the small commune of María Elena and drove off the highway on Route 5 to catch the road eight kilometres down south.

When she turned towards the signpost, the sun was setting right in their eyes. Desert and flatland around the mining town.

“Beautiful!” cried Marina, “What is this town? Broad empty roads and nobody is living here!”

This beauty turned into rubbles later in 2007 when hit by an earthquake.

“We came this far and not a bump on the road,” said Madeleine, “Smooth as silk! It’s the highlight of the crossroads…and now I am starving.”

They found a bunk in a container room among the rows and an eatery under a pergola in the foreground. After a wash, they sat there joking and chatting. Madeleine began to sing a song that never faded from Marina’s ear.

“Does that song have something to do with this town?” asked Marina.

“A Mexican king dedicated this song to his wife,” replied Madeleine.

There came their drinks. “Pisco Sour!” a young waitress labelled, “this is the Chilean version with Pica lime.”

“Pisco!” chuckled Marina.

“Hold my finger!” Madeleine picked her finger and they drank Pisco holding each other by the middle finger across the table. The lawn lit in bright lights under the pergola.

On the peak of chatter and tease, Madeleine senselessly spat across the table on Marina’s face. “Oh no!” cried Madeleine with rolling big eyes and ran around the table to wipe off the saliva, “Sorry! I didn’t mean to do that!”

“Wow! Plentiful!” Marina cursed in an effort to rub it off her face.

Madeleine dropped on the bench next to Marina straddling her legs, “Let’s play pisco! It’s a cute game.”

“How do you play the game?” enquired Marina enthusiastically.

“Face me!”

Marina dropped her legs on both sides of the bench and faced Madeleine who dipped her middle finger into the glass of Pisco.

“Now suck it! Pisco!” Madeleine directed into her mouth.

“Now my turn! Pisco!”

“PISCO!” that maid stomped a foot on the ground setting a table ready for dinner.

Temperature dropped at 12°C and the couple retired to the bunk in a drunken state, drinking Piscola and singing those two lines of the song followed by a sequence in a hum.

Halfway, at the check point in Quillagua, they spent two hours because of traffic; huge trucks rolling through the check point. Chilean police only checked their papers and passed them through.

They found a hotel on Panamericana in the town of Pozo Almonte and decided to stop for the day; three-ten in the afternoon. Rooms come with single separate beds and they chose a room with a tiny double bed. It was a boring unanticipated stop but helped in some way to restock and clean the vehicle.

Next day, they had early breakfast and set on the journey, crossed the rivers over the bridges and stopped at another check point near Camarones. It did not take long. The roof of the Toyota was capped with dust.

They cruised to reach Arica for lunch. Stopped at a Japanese Restaurant to taste fish, sushi and at last the Pacific in clear blue and salty breezes.

“Pejerrey!” chanted Marina.

“We want them fried and brine!” cried Madeleine to get it off the broth.

In the afternoon, they cruised to cross the border which was uneventful, their papers ready to visit Peru, and head course through Tacna, miles of desert land on both sides.

“It’s a lovely day! Clear visibility! Isn’t it nice weather!” As soon as she expressed, dark clouds in shoals blanketed the vista and daylight switched off briskly. However, with help of the Etak Navigator, they didn’t take a wrong turn.

“Bless your tongue!” uttered Marina at the wheel and slowed down passing through the beautiful coastal town of Ilo.

Soon it cleared and the track dried up. Then it was water on one side and dry land on the other. They tumbled into more rain on the way. And the road began to curve and climb, hanging over the ridges for miles. They came to a place called Punta de Bombom after dark and slept in a peaceful hotel room.