Wednesday 2 September 1992


Devils valley

Somewhere in Argentina, we boarded the bus

A beautiful route through the Andes, they promised us

hundreds of hairpins later we began to think

Should have flown and had a drink

A border we crossed, in mountain peaks

Santiago we;d spend the next few weeks

The morning commuters drank at cafes

I ate a breakfast burrito on my first day

Enricas family welcomed us home

They treated us steaks and Chilean vino

A VIP bus tracking the coast

Then a steep road it climbed to the altiplano

The air became thin, the desert was high

I smelt the volcanoes as the clouds left the sky

In Calama there had been no rain for 10 years

But the day we arrived god shed his tears

3 inches of rain just in one day

All the Roofs leaked. In puddles kids played

San pedro de atacames’, we acclimatized

We Trekked through the devil's valley, Ate black beans and rice

But we needed to cross the great desert plain

3 days in a carriage On the world's slowest train

The red desert hue passed slowly by

We drank vodka with lemon and ate bread to survive

I spoke with the people we met everyday

I studied their language. Their culture I craved

They asked; “are you married? si? oh why not”?

Did I believe the word of god?

I laughed and I thought if we don't choose a faith

Just believe in yourself and respect those who pray

In a town the train stopped - no name that I saw

I was sent by the travellers to the alcohol store

I came out of the shop - with the supplies

To see the train pull away to my surprise

I sprinted behind the train without shoes

Brad hung out the back and said “pass me the booze”

Finally arriving at the dusty border town

The guards entered the train, we knew to calm down

Checking our passports for a visa to pass

We entered Bolivia in backpacker class

San Pedro de Atacames
Cafe in Santiago

Crossing the Andes by bus

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