August 28, 2012, Chile. Antofagasta’s business district, centered around Plaza Colón, was surprisingly pleasant. In the middle of the square stands a clock tower donated by the British in 1911, said to resemble a miniature Big Ben. Entering from the southeast, you pass along Paseo Peatonal Arturo Prat, where you’ll find the Intendencia Regional (the regional administrative seat), the CorreosChile headquarters, and the lovely Parroquia San José. With a population of around 360,000, Antofagasta is the largest city in northern Chile and closely tied to mining—primarily copper. Despite having the third-highest GDP in Chile, the average monthly salary is only about 180,000 CLP (roughly $380 USD). It’s surprisingly expensive here—on par with the San Francisco Bay Area in terms of food and household goods, though rent is a bit more affordable.

Having now spent time in Peru, I felt disheartened by Chile’s militaristic stance toward Bolivia and Peru. Antofagasta was once Bolivia’s main port, with a railway linking it to La Paz. It served as a key hub for exporting silver and saltpeter. The War of the Pacific was supposedly sparked when a saltpeter company refused to pay a Bolivian tax. Yet after Chile seized Antofagasta and all the territory north to Arica (including Tacna, which they occupied until the 1926 plebiscite), they imposed the same tax. So much for “liberation.”

Further north in Arica, at the top of Morro Rock, a Chilean military museum now stands where a Peruvian fort once was. It proudly recounts the Chilean conquest and praises the soldiers who stormed the cliffs. The usual sword-waving. I found it distasteful—I’ve never liked nationalistic or militaristic rhetoric.

I also visited the naval museum, which glorified the sacrifice of Arturo Prat, the captain of a Chilean warship during the Pacific War. Though his ship was underpowered compared to the Peruvian and Bolivian fleets, he managed to board the enemy’s ship before being killed—guaranteeing his place as a national hero. From there I wandered to the beautifully constructed wooden railroad station, built using ballast from British ships and once the terminus for the rail line from La Paz. According to local lore, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid once hid a safe full of money in one of the cars now on display, only to later be caught and killed in Bolivia.

From Antofagasta, I headed inland to San Pedro de Atacama—a five-hour bus ride toward the Andes, or la cordillera as they call it here. Unfortunately, I got very sick during the trip and developed a severe bronchial infection that spread to my sinuses and inner ear. I’m still battling the ear infection three weeks later, now on antibiotics and steroids.

San Pedro is an authentic Atacameño town, though these days more foreigners than locals roam the streets. It feels a bit like a desert-themed Disneyland. Still, I met two interesting travelers, both riding motorcycles solo across the Americas. One had even written a book about his previous around-the-world trip—something I’d love to do someday, though I’m not sure what form it would take.

While there, I had the chance to witness a two-day local celebration in honor of Santa Rosa de Lima. The baile osado(bear dance) featured dancers in polar bear costumes and others dressed as an ostrich-like bird native to the region. I was too sick to stand for long, so I planted myself inside the beautiful adobe church and watched the ceremony unfold. It was a rare opportunity to glimpse the real community—locals gathering to honor their saint.

At the market, I bought a syrup made from chañar, a native tree that somehow survives in this arid climate. San Pedro is technically an oasis, thanks to water from the San Pedro River. But as in so many places around the world, mining companies have been draining underground aquifers, leaving locals struggling for even basic access to water—let alone enough to sustain tourism. I spoke with a resident about the situation. It echoed what I’d seen in El Bolsón, Argentina, where I joined a march to protect water rights. Same story, different country.

I spent nearly a week in San Pedro trying to recover before finally returning to Antofagasta, hoping that the return to sea level would help. After a couple of days, Claudio and I continued north to Iquique, a duty-free zone and the main entry point for imported cars in Chile.