Three small steps on the road to Santiago (third)
From Calama and "Northern oasis" mentioned above to the coastal city of La Serena where we arrived yesterday, there are a thousand miles. Given the length of the country, this distance is not great but we have more than ten days to travel by hitchhiking. Not that "travel to the finger" does not work well here, but an unexpected problem has forced us to stay a week stranded in Taltal. A port where there is shabby, I think there nothing else to do than watch the pelicans idlers on the pier in the best-case or worst-in-, to get drunk with nautical Unemployment in 
greasy spoon along the bay. For my part, I have done neither the one nor the other, since I stayed in bed for a week in the first pension came due to a terrible dental abscess. A period necessary to bring down the fever resulting from this problem and wait until my jaw can again function normally and that the gum a little deflated (Marie-Hélène compared me to Elephant Man ") I could not open his mouth and the only food they can still swallow me were yogurt and packet soups that I absorbed in straw. God thank you, Chilean pharmacists are competent people who examined me and advised me to Taltal antibiotic radical. It must be said that here, for obvious economic reasons, most people usually resort to the pharmacist rather than a doctor. Pharmacists can also deliver virtually all drugs 
conceivable without any prescription. Chile is why a true kingdom of self-medication. That said, and after some minor adventures along the way (an encounter with a suicidal young motorist who told us, just returned to his vehicle, that if his wife does not soon regained the marital home, he jeterait him and his car, the top of the cliff came first!), here we are at the Serena. From here you can venture easily by bus in the hinterland, to small villages perched on the foothills of the Cordillera. Among those villages, those of Vicuña and Pisco Elqui are interesting. Vicuña is even a small town. It is nestled in the
Elqui Valley and the climate is almost Mediterranean. It cultivates a very sweet grape variety whose flavor is reminiscent of Muscat. It is also with this grape that is manufactured alcohol national: Pisco. Purists and Peruvians claim that this is wrong because according to them, Pisco is an alcohol what is most Peruvians. But here we tell you otherwise. Moreover, the peasants believed the state that if the neighboring village called Pisco Elqui, not a chance. What we will not tell you is that this village was renamed after the alcohol it does not too long ago for obvious reasons of "marketing". Anyway, visit a Pisco distillery is always worth his weight in peanuts. The explanations of business guide Capel is certainly very technical and 
tedious, but the part reserved for the tasting of various products leaves a pleasant memory because there are many things to test: Pisco young, half old, very old-aged in barrels oak, the special wines, not counting the "mixtures" ready to use as the wonderful Pisco-Sour (with lemon juice, sugar cane, etc ...). In short, this afternoon, we were more extreme freshness to plunge us into the life and work of one of the greatest writers of the country (Price Nobel Prize for Literature in 1945), namely the poet Gabriela Mistral was born here and which can still visit the house in the heart of the town. 
(The birthplace of the poet Gabriela Mistral Vicuña)
Following the upstream course of the Elqui a distance of about 40 km is therefore village of Pisco. Significantly smaller than Vicuña, this entity has maintained a beautiful seal
rustic. The agricultural activity is of course especially fruit. Besides the vineyards that still occupy the foreground, there are also crops of plums, apricots and guavas. These are usually dried in the sun on rooftops to get the "huesillos (dried apricots). In the streets and alleys between the orchards, the scents are divine and smells of various fruits mingling produce a single heady fragrance.
Today we planted the tent near a stream in a place
planted willows. The weather suddenly became uncertain. We suffer a few showers and the sky remains covered much of the day. This is the first rain since the beginning Our journey into the lands of the north. One can hardly distinguish the snowy peaks encircling the village. We found refuge in a cafe run by Don Barboza. An old buccaneer that Don Barboza. Originally from Argentina, he has a lot of land in the corner and has always tried to monetize every square meter. Moreover, to get to the point where we make camp, you must pass by a road owned. To borrow we were obliged to pay us a right of way 800 pesos! This represents about renting space in a campsite ordinary "in the region. But Don Barboza also cultivates a form of nostalgia 
. To enliven his old cafe, when customers sit down, he likes to spend old 78 rpm Carlos Gardel on an authentic gramophone with horn struck with the effigy of "The Voice of his master! is beautiful than watching the rain fall on the countryside while listening to tango!
This morning it's still raining and everyone in the village is concerned about these late rains. Once again, we put it down to the "Bolivian winter" eternal "cream pie" weather, because of all the disturbances of the sky.
matter. We take our courage and our shoes walking boots for the day from the surrounding countryside.
Back in the early afternoon, a nasty surprise awaits us: we find our tent in a terrible state, but was defeated and downtrodden. The canvas is largely torn in several places .. It's a real mystery because nothing was stolen and the food was untouched. There are two horses in the vicinity of our camp, but it seems unlikely that they were those responsible for this carnage. Little encouraged by the prospect of a possible attack at night, we broke camp and decide to join the coast and continue our journey south.
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