Killing time in Antofagasta, a port city in Northern Chile. The bus we wanted was sold out, so we have to wait for one later this afternoon.

    The bus ride here was memorable (as most bus rides in Chile seem to be). Thanks to our refusal to sit outside to wait for the bus, we missed it. Sigh. The men at the ticket counter laughed and rolled their eyes, but they gave us the last two seats on the next bus out...right next to the toilet. Double sigh. From my window seat, I got a first-hand view of why this region of Chile is home to 3 major observatories. The stars are so beautiful here! I donīt know why they seem brighter here than anywhere else Iīve been in my life, but theyīre amazing. It looks like you could touch them. I stayed awake for hours, trying to remember astronomy facts. Is that W-shaped constellation Cassiopeia? Are the blue stars moving toward us, or is it the red ones? Just before I fell asleep, I saw my first-ever shooting star. It was a good one, the kind that remind you that shooting stars are meteors burning through the atmosphere. It hissed and lits up the whole sky, trailing red and yellow sparks behind it. If I didnīt know better, Iīd say it was a comet. I awoke at dawn and we were in a fog-shrouded desert. I could see the looming shapes of sand dunes in the distance. The fog was surreal. When we drove out of it, I could see it behind us like a thick white cloud on the ground, undulating back and forth.

    A lot of travelers told me they hated Antofagasta, but I guess Iīm a sucker for big dirty cities. From afar, Antofagasta is breathtaking: multi-colored houses pinned between arid desert, jagged brown mountains, and glassy green sea. Up close, itīs more of the wild west: low-slung tin-roofed buildings, dusty streets, and whitewashed churches. Saturday is market day. Most of the big stores downtown donīt have real walls - just a row of huge doors they throw open so everyone can see the merchandise. There were street performers, balloon makers, and a deranged mime who absolutely refused to leave Liz alone. On the way back to our hotel, we saw a group of singing Hare Krishnas. You know youīre a New Yorker when weirdos and crazy people just make you nostalgic for the city. When a homeless man growled at me the other day, I thought "awww...I miss New York." Our hotel has free HBO and Cinemax (in English!), so weīve spent our evenings soaking up American and British culture. Weīve seen "Dangerous Liasons," "Harry Potter," "Antz," and a cute British film about two lawyers (oops, barristers) who fall in love.

    Yesterday Liz and I took the bus to La Portada, a strange archway of rock in the middle of the ocean. We stood on cliffs that dropped straight into the ocean. Behind, all we could see was desert and jagged, desolate mountains. I donīt know how to describe it...it was one of those places so beautiful it made your heart beat a little faster, and every time you think it canīt get better, you walk a little further and it does.

    Here, as in most tourist sights and small towns in Chile, there is no proper bus stop. Buses do not even make scheduled stops. When it is time for us to go, we stand at the sign of the highway, watching for the bus we want. When we see it, we flag it down. During my first week here, I waved my arm above my head the way I would it get a taxi in New York. Since then, Iīve learned to boredly point a finger at the ground in front of me as if I donīt care whether the bus stops or not. I must have looked like such a spaz waving my arms at buses!

~Meredith