Close Call

On Friday, I got on the bus headed south to Caldera, a beach town 12 hours away. After my run-in with the bus lady, an apparent follower of Voldemort, I was a bit nervous that I wouldn´t make it out of San Pedro. Mostly because she didn´t actually give me a new ticket, she just wrote the new time and seat number on the old one. I asked if I needed a new one, she said it wasn´t necessary, and I certainly didn´t want to insist on a new one. No need to upset the beast.

The journey was supposed to take 12 hours, but that didn´t happen. First of all, our bus disappeared for an hour in Antofagasta, for reasons unknown. We were all made to get off the bus, then the bus left and did not return for over an hour. I´m very grateful that it did, as all I had was my messenger bag, but at least that meant I had Lonely Planet and my camera. Money belt with money and passport were, of course, under my clothes.

The bus actually dropped me off in Copiapo, 40 minutes from Caldera. From there, I took yet another bus, which was supposed to leave 5 minutes after I arrived, but 5 minutes became 35 minutes. By the time I arrived in Caldera, it was midnight.

Caldera is a beach resort town, but despite the warm weather year-round, was completely deserted as it is winter. I knew that coming in, but I wanted to go to a beach that wasn´t socked in by cold fog caused by the Humbolt Current. On Saturday morning I packed a beach backpack and headed for the water. The beach was a bit industrial looking, so I took a collectivo to the next beach over in Bahía Inglesa, where the sand was white and the water true blue. The sun was warm, but the breeze chilly. I didn´t actually strip down to my bathing suit, but it was nice to sit on the beach with a book, and explore the rocky coastline down the beach.

For lunch, I went to an empanada joint across the street from the beach. I ordered beef, chicken, and cheese, and took it back to the beach for a picnic. After about 3 bites, I still hadn´t gotten any meat, so I peeked inside. In it was something pink. Pink... pink? Uh-oh. It couldn´t be... shrimp?! It was shrimp! Can you imagine? What if I had taken a bite of the other side first. Oh the horror! I may have learned to eat a few new things this year, but seafood is and will never be, one of them. I went back to the empanada shop. Just after I handed him back my seafood tainted empanada, another man walked in with one missing a bite. Presumably my meat and cheese. Eventually, I got the right one, and all was right with the world. Especially because it was a ridiculously delicious empanada.