Preface: In December 2010, I traveled over 4,000 miles by bus from Lima, Peru, all the way to the tip of South America in Ushuaia, Argentina. After my Peruvian leg, I took a break and hung out in Arica, near the Peruvian and Bolivian borders with Chile. It is a port town in the Atacama Desert, the driest place on Earth.
After a light-hearted moment at the border, in which I had to pantomime to customs officials what the beef jerky in my backpack was, I reached the extraordinarily clean city of Arica. After my stint in Peru, I grew accustomed to a moderate level of general filth. Arica’s prosperity became quickly apparent as I saw two metrosexual dudes zip past me in a BMW Z3 with the top down. Continue reading