Crossing The Andes

We could have flown from Mendoza to Santiago in a couple of hours but then we would have missed seeing the largest mountains in South America.  We would have also missed the most butt-clenching ride of our lives.

We were up at 6AM and in the bus station by 7:30.  We boarded the bus at 8:30 and were off for a nearly 8-hour tour of the Andes.  The bus had two levels with plush reclining seats.  The attendant started us off by serving hot coffee and biscuits as we made our way out of the city.  The bus’s windows were large and clean, enabling us to experience great views.  The Andes are large and rugged as the Rockies but completely devoid of trees.  Where there isn’t snow you can see the sagebrush and cacti.  The Pass was closed the day before due to snow at the 6000-meter mark.

 

Argentine Ski Resort Near the Summit

 The Chilean government doesn’t allow much to cross its border in the way of food.  Essentially it must be processed, nothing fresh. No meat, dairy, vegetables, fruit, nuts or seeds.  A bag of bugles had to carry us through. 

The border crossing at Los Libertadores was an experience.  When we arrived we had to disembark from the bus and line up to see immigration with our documents.  I wasn’t asked any questions as the agent handed me a stamped slip.  Deborah was asked if she was married.  I don’t know if the agent was hitting on her or just curious.  We then had to line up in three lines at Customs, shoulder to shoulder and looking forward in the same direction.  Our bags were unpacked from the bus and sent through an x-ray machine.  As suspect bags were identified they were held up and the owner had to come forward and watch the inspection.  When all the bags were cleared, we had to form a single file line with our carry-on and walk it through the same x-ray.  More calling out and inspections took place.  The final act was the passing of a plastic bag down the line of travelers with the request for a “propina”, Spanish for “tip”.  We watched the others and sure enough, everyone dropped a $10 pesos note in the bag and after was filled, it disappeared.

This Woman Had a Bag Full of Food Items

 The downhill drive from the border crossing is 10km of switch-back hair-raising descent.  Deborah got a couple of pictures between hiding her face from the view.  The entire slope is a ski area and the highway disappears in snow sheds to allow for ski runs overhead.  Judging by the slope you would have to be a very skilled skier to survive the mountain.

Wouldn't Want To Do This in Winter!

 We left the mountains and entered a valley inundated with vineyards and orchards as we drove the last 80kms to Santiago.

The first observation we made from the bus is that Chile appears to be a poor cousin to Argentina.  Nice new home subdivisions are interspaced with shanty shacks of obvious poverty.  We also noticed a difference in the Chilean peso.  Beer is advertised at $5000 pesos each.  We think that is about $10 Canadian.  That would make Santiago one of the most expensive cities we have been.  We will have to look into this further.

Our arrival at the bus terminal was a shit-show.  Everyone from the bus was crammed into a two-meter space between the buses to retrieve their luggage.  The man manning the luggage compartment of the bus demanded a “propina” before he would provide the bags.  I offered $15 Argentinean pesos.  He sneered at me and yelled something while clearly not giving me my bag.  A nearby person explained that I was giving Argentine money and he wanted Chilean money.  I yelled back at the guy that I clearly had just arrived in Chile (on his bus) and didn’t have any.  The yelling back worked and I got my bag.  Deborah waved an American $1 and got her bag.  Since there are about 750 pesos to the American dollar he should have been happy.

We settled into our hotel and went on the lookout for real food.