Big Fat Heads!

We left Santiago feeling pretty excited as we were heading to the place that we had been travelling towards since the inception of our trip- Easter Island.  Most people have heard of the island, some people are familiar with the pictures of mysterious statues but the majority of people probably couldn’t point to it on a map. So we flew on a domestic flight for over 5 hours from the west of mainland Chile, where we landed at the most remote airport on Earth (next airport is 1800km away so the equivalent of flying from Liverpool to Ankara). An island of just 24 km across and with a population of about 5500.

We were greeted by our host, Christophe, who was a vibrant French character who's been on the island about 21 years, running his cabañas.  He kept forgetting what language to speak, lapsing between French, Spanish and English - which kept us on our toes.

We got ourselves Gareth's new preferred ride, quad bikes, and headed off to search for the BIG FAT HEADS!

Easter Island was settled by the Polynesians. The legend is that the King Hotu Matu’a was told that his island was going to suffer a catastrophic event, prompting him to send out 7 men to find a land which his shaman had seen in a dream. The men found Easter Island and reported back to the king, who then took his population and relocated to the island. Tradition holds that they landed at Anakena, which is a very beautiful beach. This occurred between 700 and 1100 BC

The heads are called Moai in the language of the islanders, the Rapa Nui.  There are many stories suggesting that the population spent all their time and resources building the Moai only to turn on each other when all natural resouces on the island were exhausted, and destroying the other tribes Moai. It is correct that they had chopped down most of the trees but they were good farmers and fisherman and so the lack of trees did not immediately affect their sustenance. However, as time went by they would not have been able to replace larger fishing vessels and the tree-less island would have been more susceptible to erosion. Although life might have become tougher a civil war theory does not appear to have any evidential basis. (Our Guide commented that if pushing over the Moai were acts of war, then surely efforts would have been made to right them)   Lacking a written record, many stories and theories about the island outside of the Rapa Nui's own inconsistent verbal history is speculation and hearsay.

But it does look like someone had a bit of a crisis of faith

Some time after settling on the island, the Rapa Nui came up with the idea of creating the Moai. Building these statues was not a tradition which already existed in their culture. Moai were created in the form of old Chieftains or other important people. The Rapa Nui used the statues to harness the power of the gods and the power assumed to belong to their deceased chiefs to look after them. Moai were generally placed on a platform that contained the remains of the VIP and were turned inwards so that they could watch over the clans.

A lot of the Moai around the island remain where they were pushed over. It is costly to restore the Moai, particularly given how isolated the island is. I am in two minds about whether they should all be restored: a significant part of the history is the fact that they eventually were pushed over by their creators (for whatever reason), but at the same time -historic temper tantrums to one side- they are all out in the elements which will mean that eventually the Moai will be eroded away to featureless rock to no-one's benefit, so there's an argument for restoring them in place or even removing some to a controlled environment.

By 1868 there are no reports of Moai standing. It is believed that quite simply the locals stopped believing in the power of the Moai and/or became angry with the Moai. This perhaps was prompted by their interactions with outsiders with far greater weapons, technology and prosperity. If the Moai were effective then why had they not provided them with the same things despite the Rapa Nui's total devotion? Why had the Moai not protected them?

"You guys suck"

The Moai were carved in a quarry called Rano Raraku, in and around the creator of a volcano. Most of the carving forming the head of body of the statue was done directly into the quarry wall, and then the Moai were cut from the rock and additional details carved on the back. They were then transported to where they were to be erected, probably by using logs from the local trees.  When they arrived on location,  their eye sockets were carved and the final details added.

However, when Easter Island ran out of trees, the Moai could no longer be transported. This didn't stop production, however.  The Rapa Nui responsible for the Moai carving were distinct from the transporters, who were distinct from the guys who built the plinths, who were distinct from the heavies who installed the figures in situ, who were distinct from the artisans who made the eyes out of coral, who were distinct from the whole other production system that produced, transported and installed the red 'topknot' decorations out of different rock from another quarry.  Orders were still coming in and the production continued, despite the inability to relocate the statues. By the time the islanders fell out of love with the Moai, there were 300+ figures waiting for collection from the quarry.

Although many of these look like they are only heads, all of them are whole body Moais, albeit buried up the shoulders over time by nature.

One particularly interesting Moai has a ship carved on it’s tummy which appears to coincide with the Island’s first visit from Europeans, when the Dutch Admiral Roggeveen arrived on Easter Sunday 1722.  The sculpter on shift at the time looked down the mountain at the strange vessel and thought he'd record that for posterity.

"We haven't invented paper"

Pausing for just a second to reflect on this production line: The tallest Moai was called Paro, who was almost 10 metres tall and weighed 82 tons, and was erected about 8km away. The distance from the quarry to Ahu Tahai (to the north of Hanga Roa, picture below) is about 18km. These people had no cranes, horses or other beasts of burden and yet they transported the Moai these huge distances, on rough and hilly terrain. Actually how they did this remains the subject of much speculation but no one knows the answer, although it is believed that trees were a fundamental part.  We were told that they were transported upright, as befits their status, but also to reduce stress on the fragile narrow of the neck.
They were actually in the process of building a 20 metre example, but he was never removed from the quarry wall.

Middle of the picture, lying on his back.  Gareth walked past it twice. 

The quarry has the only example of a non-standing Moai, in that it has a kneeling statue.  It's unknown why it was made, our guide speculated it might've been a prototype for a new series of statues.

As I mentioned above, most of the Moai were adorned with a red coloured rock which would represent the “topknot” of the chieftain. These were made in another quarry, a product of a different volcano. 

An American archaeologist called William Mulloy was a regular visitor and in the 1960's decided to restore some of the Moai. His intentions were good, but he did just put some random Moai together at Ahu Tahai which don't actually belong there, from different eras - hence the divergent styles.

He also decided to cement the eye sockets of another Moai and paint on the eyes so that everyone could see what they look like. It does add another dimension to the Moai and makes them even more enigmatic. However, half a century later his methods are a bit irritating especially when you think that technology could have replicated the coral eyes accurately by now. There is a tribute to Mr Mulloy in Hanga Roa and from discussions with our guide, it is clear that he is still held in high regard by the Rapa Nui.

They gave him his hair back, too

A better restoration can be found at Tongariki. This was funded by the Japanese, who also provided the necessary cranes to lift the Moai. This is the go-to place for sunrise on the Island. The banner at the top of this blog is now a photo that Gareth took. This is the largest group of Moai and it was enthralling to stand in front of them.

We returned for a second visit later in the day, to get a less dramatic look.

On our final day on the island we booked a group tour but it turned out it was just the guide and the two of us, which was excellent. We had the opportunity to ask our Rapa Nui guide loads of questions. Aside from the conventional academic research into the history and conservation of the island, he's made it his work to glean as much of the oral history as possible by interviewing the island's older generations and comparing their accounts.

As mentioned, we don’t really know why the population fell out of love with their Moai, but when they did they then came up with a new plan to “channel” the gods: the cult of the birdman.
There is a migratory bird, the sooty tern, which nests on an islet off Easter Island. It only lays one egg a year. It was decided to hold an annual competition to collect the first of these eggs to decide the leadership of the island.  Tribal chieftains would nominate champions to enter the competition, and the winner's sponsoring chieftain would become the head shed for the following year.  Beforehand, all competitors hung out in these huts -kind of an Olympic village- in the weeks prior to the event.

Cozy

When the race started they would run/climb/fall down a sheer cliff. I should mention at this point that attempts to take out your opponents, a la Dick Dasterdly, were expected, encouraged and allowed until the opponent was in possession of an egg, at which point it was hands off.

So assuming you didn’t fall to your death or run into your opponents fist, you would make it to sea level. Of course you might have a few cuts from your opponents or the rocks but they were inconsequential as it wasn’t like you were going to have to swim 2 km through shark infested waters or anything…..oh.

The one at the back

When they got to the islet they would have to search for the egg, which might take weeks. Once the egg was in your posession your opponents couldn’t attack you, but you still had to swim back and get up the cliff whilst making sure your egg didn’t break. First guy back with an unbroken egg wins. What reward could be worth all of this? Well in addition to the gratitude of your Chief, you would also be given the beautiful virgin that they had stored in a cave in a volcano for the last 3 months. Yes, really.

The people eventually gave up on the birdman as well. This appears to coincide with the majority of islanders (all of them save about 100) being taken away by Peru as slaves. Unfortunately many died in captivity, including their last remaining scribes and historians, hence why Easter Island is such a mystery. There are surviving texts, but no one can read them.

The next visitors were Christian missionaries and Tahitians, who are close relatives of the Rapa Nui.  These days, the Islands have now embraced Christianity as they are regular church goers and it seems that not going to Church regularly (read: every day) is very bad. However, I was quite taken aback when we visited the Church as to the influence the islanders' previous religious inclinations have on their Christianity.  Figures and symbols reminiscent of the Moai and the Birdman are etched all over the Christian iconography.  Lapsed-catholic Gareth counted about 14 different types of heresy.

Jesus shown here with the traditional Birdman crown...wait, what?

No idolatry here, move along.

Our accommodation was superb and the host, Christophe, was top bananas. Accommodation and flights are expensive on the island but we had some nice meals and we thought the prices were on par with Santiago. We do keep foolishly ordering a main meal each, though.  The local cerviche could feed four. I also see it as my duty to experience the local culture wherever I go through their national drink.  This is still Chile, so it was a pisco sour as an aperitif, starter, to accompany my main and as a dessert.

Easter Island is part of Chile but there is a group of Islanders who wish to be independent. Apparently Chile annexed the Island following a suggestion from...guess who? Yes, Britain, to make sure France didn’t get it. The problem is that the people thought they were signing a friendship agreement (the document was only in Spanish) instead they were effectively giving up their sovereignty. In the 20th century, the government leased the island to a sheep company who basically stopped the population from going anywhere on the island. It is only relatively recently that the islanders have felt supported from Chile. In fact it was Pinochet’s government who was the most progressively supportive, and even now the population of Easter Island remain quite loyal to him.

The island is very pretty, it is just strange looking out to sea knowing that the next bit of inhabited land is over 2000km away.

Easter Island is now dealing with the double-edged sword of tourism. You are basically able to wander over the whole island. There aren’t any huge barriers preventing you from getting near the Moai, the place relies on people doing the right thing. Unfortunately people can’t really be trusted and you could see the carelessness of people in places through plastic bottles, carving names etc. Visitor numbers were only about 4000 a decade ago and last year 70,000+. There is also the question of  the actual value of visitors to the island. It is possible to stay on a campsite for $20 per night. You only have to pay the national park fee if you visit the quarry or the birdman site. You can eat a filling meal for less than $10. Yet the cost, financial and environmental, of visitors- transport, rubbish, electricity use (bearing in mind pretty much everything is imported), travelling to the Moai is far more than this. Additionally, the last few years has also see record numbers of mainland Chileans moving to the island which has had an impact on infrastructure.

Visiting the home of the Big Fat Heads definitely felt like the trip of a lifetime.

Tahiti

Can't even maintain their jetties around here. Tsk

Okey doke, we're presently in New Zealand.  There's not been any updates recently as you and I are waiting for Chantelle to write about Easter Island.   So I'll jump ahead and write about all the staggering nothing we did in Tahiti afterwards.  She'll catch up in a couple of weeks or so.  I did replace the stock image at the top of the blog with an Easter Island picture of my own though, so that's nice.  Not that you lot noticed 

Just awful

We got off the plane at 2am to be greeted by these stalwart local representatives from the tourist board.  It was a bit odd to breeze in on an EU passport though.

Bonjour

It turns out I'm as adept at gesticulating my way through French as I am in Spanish.  It's a knack. 

I'd avoided getting a haircut through all of South America, with the intention of waiting until New Zealand, but it was an untenable situation - my mop was becoming sentient and raiding the minibar while I slept.  Anyway, 'twas resolved by a local barber with minimal misunderstanding and with both ears intact.

Godawful

Anyhow, we spent four nights in a resort doing next to bugger all aside from sitting by the pool and snorkeling.  We  did manage to test the waterproof capabilities of Chan's phone (Sony Xperia Z - advertised as IP67; adverts feature underwater photos being taken) to destruction, which thus far has been fine with being taken in the bath etc.  Apparently the sea does bad things to rubber seals and the phone dropped dead right as I was taking some awesome photos of some coral and trigger fish. Oops.

We gritted our teeth and bore it

Otherwise, it was no hardship here.  It was expensive as hell though, regardless of where you ate, drank or shopped.  The insistence on using products flown in from France (Carrefours abound) can't help.

We popped into town briefly to see what there is of Papeete, which doesn't take long.    Here's some more photos:

So that was a pleasant, if uneventful stop.  If we were on a specific trip here, rather than on the way to New Zealand, we'd see the other islands and pick up a jetski or something.  As it was, we caught our breath in preparation for the next big road trip.

Kurzfassung auf Deutsch:  Wir haben Tahiti besucht. Es war sehr schoen aber wir haben nur ein wenig gemacht. Das geht weil wir entspannen und bereiten für unsere nächste große Straße Reise in Neuseeland konnten. 

Street Dogs, Crazy Tapas and Autocracy

The last stop in South America was Santiago.  We actually stayed here twice: one night before Atacama, and three nights after we flew back.

The first night we popped out for a Indian meal. Despite the country's name, they really don't like spicy food in Chile and so the curry was a bit mild, but was definitely one of the better I'd tried since leaving the UK.  No poppadoms, though.  I managed to struggle on.

We had a chance to bimble about town for a bit before catching our flight.  This here is the Palacio de La Moneda, the seat of their government.  It was half destroyed in the military coup of 1973, but was restored in the 80s.  Generally not accused of stupidity, General Pinochet built a bunker underground the palacio in case in anyone ever returned the favour. 

The guys on horses outside had a bloke who's only job, it appears, was to follow them around, cleaning up after the horses.  I'd still rank it above being an estate agent. 

I've not really mentioned before the sheer number of stray street dogs we've encountered in South America.  It's been a phenomenon everywhere but nowhere as pronounced as Chile.  In Chile there are near a million street dogs, half of whom are in Santiago.  They are largely either abandoned by their owners for a variety of inexcusable reasons, or are a product of a culture that doesn't spay or neuter its pets.

Most of the dogs you encounter in the street are friendly, as they are often fed and watered by local people.  They often have cardboard kennels put out for them, or are given knitted doggy cardigans during the winter.  They are universally streetwise: catching buses and getting off at particular stops or waiting at lights to cross the road. The dogs that loiter outside of the government buildings often join in whenever political demonstrations congregate in front of La Moneda, loyally following whatever group is energised that day and barking enthusiastically at the police.

"Vive whatever this guy says"

I like dogs, so the occasional mutt of four different heritages that fell into step with us was no hardship, but I don't like seeing so many dogs going without a home. Especially when there are no real animal cruelty laws here, and where there aren't a million cardigans to go around during the often fatally bitter winters.

This guy followed us into a restaurant and hid under the bench when they tried to shoo him out. 

One old scrote we saw was going around with a cute Labrador puppy, using the admirably direct call of "Money, money, money. I want the gringo money. You give me money." while holding said pup aloft.  I was quietly bemused until Chan pointed out that he would no doubt abandon that pup when it got too old to be lucrative.  I hope he gets mauled by an avenging pack of vigilante labradoodles.

On a positive note, I learned of a great initiative in one of the city's poorer areas, Maipú, which accounts for 200,000 of the 500,000 dogs in Santiago.  The local council recruited 12 street dogs into the Canine Brigade: an initiative to take street dogs who've had pretty terrible backgrounds and give them crime prevention training so that they can can patrol the streets.  This way they serve the dual purposes of providing security and demonstrating how any dog can be trained and given a home. They patrol in shifts and are looked after by the municipality for the rest of their lives when they get old.

This is Jimmy: a St Bernard/Akita mix.  He is a good boy.

Getting back on track - the second time we stayed in Santiago (after we got back from Atacama), we rented a flat in one of the city's innumerable apartment blocks.  Santiago is a bit of a monster: of the 18 million in Chile's population, 7 million (38%) live in the Santiago area.  This means the town tends toward the vertical.

Checking in was a bit of a cluster, to be honest. Absolutely no-one spoke English, which I generally have no problem with - it is their country and I'm the visitor- but not when you're advertising to foreigners *in English*, advertising that you speak English.  But we eventually managed to the right person, who lived in another flat and apparently managed about 20 flats in the building, going by her jailer's key chain.  The view was nice, though.

The general lack of English acumen in the service industries in South America has been surprising, actually.  Any Europeans, Americans or Asians who're not from Spanish- or Portuguese-speaking countries will try to get by in English, but many places we've visited speak very little of it.  Not a complaint, just a surprised observation.  You'd think it'd be in their own interests.  It'd certainly be in mine; I have enough problems speaking English to Americans.

Back to Santiago.  We cooked for ourselves while we were there, since we were now in possession of a kitchen. The cost and volume of things in the local supermarket was a lot more in line with what we expect in Europe, rather than the vast volumes of everything you'll find in the U.S that made cooking a single meal for two so uneconomic. There were some odd things, though.  Several items were behind locked glass - in the same way that razor blades frequently are in the UK- specifically: instant coffee, sardines and butter.   They weren't particularly expensive or short in supply (this isn't 70s Poland), but you had to ask someone to get them for you.  Odd.

On the coffee note:  They don't like coffee in South America.  Or rather it isn't even close to as popular as in the U.S and Europe. Brazil exports the most coffee in the world, but in São Paulo you will get Nespresso in restaurants.  Similarly in Chile - all you will find here is sachets of Nescafe instant and hot water at breakfast. What they do have in Chile is this:

They call it Café con piernas - coffee with legs - and it is a bit tragic.  Basically, your middle-aged businessmen come down to these coffee shops at lunchtime to be served bad coffee by provocatively dressed women, who are often on a slightly raised platform in order to facilitate a better view.   These places range in tawdriness, from the mildly offensive minidress-focussed place above, to de-facto strip joints where you buy coffee from girls in bikinis in UV-lit dark rooms. Terrible, expensive coffee at that. Chile is actually quite socially conservative, so these places are a bit out of character.
The funny thing is that Starbucks is a bit of a driver for social change in that Women can go there and drink indifferent coffee in an environment that isn't overtly objectifying.

Keeping it upbeat, we visited the Museo de la Memoria y los Derechos Humanos (Museum of Memory and Human Rights), a museum commemorating the victims of the military dictatorship of General Augusto Pinochet from 1973 -1990.

Brief summary for those not up on Chilean history: The socialist government of Chile was overthrown by the combined armed forces and the national police in 1973.  They took over and ran the country for seventeen years.  They spent apparently most of that time imprisoning, torturing and killing anyone left-of-centre who was too noisy about it.  They conspired with the other military dictatorships of South America to cooperate in killing each others' targets abroad too - a notable example being the car-bombing of a political enemy in Washington state.
This being the cold war years, and the Pinochet regime being not-communist in a continent that is playing with Marxism, Chile was supported to a greater or lesser extent by the UK and US.  Indeed, prior to the coup, the CIA spent money sabotaging the economic efforts of the socialist government by paying agitators to be industrially disruptive. 

The museum states its mission is that of learning from history and providing a resource for future generations in order to prevent this kind of awfulness happening again.  I think in that respect it fails. It does a grand job of detailing the abuses of the Junta and providing a chronology to its outrages, but provides almost nothing about the causes or the run-up before the coup.  Nothing on the political and economic situation in the early seventies.  Nothing of the Pinochet government's policies beyond the violence (I think the relative economic success of the country today probably doesn't mesh too well with the message of the museum).  Very little detail is provided about the regime coming to an end - which it did voluntarily after a plebiscite went against them in 1988.

I think if you're trying to educate in order to prevent another couple of decades of murder, you'd be best detailing the causes as well as the effects, especially as the regime did (and does) have a lot of support from the populace.  That plebiscite was only lost by 44% to 56%, even after it came out how many people they'd killed, so there's probably an issue there they should address.  

Now that that's set the mood, we're going a bit foody again.  Chan was reading in the in-flight magazine for Sky Airlines about this Spanish Chef named Sergio Barroso and his slightly demented tapas restaurant in Santiago.  Sergio is a bit of an experimenter, previously trained at the triple Michelin-starred "molecular gastronomy" (my eyes just rolled so hard that I need to sit down for a bit) restaurant El Bulli.

Getting there was a bit of an adventure.  It's called Restaurant 040 because it's at 040 Antonia Lopez de Bello.  So there we are, ten minutes early at 40 Antonia Lopez de Bello and all we see is a blue roller-shutter door.  After some vacillation, we call the restaurant up and they tell us that we're at 40 whereas we should be at 040, which is beyond the next junction, in a different district and therefore where they start counting again.  Of course.

Anyway, after they dispatched the sommelier to come find us, we're sat down and told that there is a set meal tonight of 8 dishes and 2 desserts. It was something else.   Brace yourself for the food portraits:

Snail with avocado - not to my preference but was very good. Don't eat the gravel.

Blowtorched clams with miso.  Gravel optional.

This is a local fish in ravioli made from thinly-shaved slices of avocado, with gazpacho. 

Teriyaki cookie with rice and shrimp

Octopus nigiri on polenta

Right, zoom in on this one.
This is Silverside fish on brioche with bones on top.  It tastes better than you'd expect.

Chan came in with snapshots of the original article to make sure we got this one.
This is a creamed potato, egg and pancetta thing served in quail's egg shells

Brioche with beef and caramelised onions

This was Churros made from a banana and coffee meringue with whisky and white chocolate mousse

I think this was orange sorbet covered with caramelised orange on a stick.

So, yeah. It was good.  What was better was access to the restaurant's exclusive speakeasy -Room 09- on the roof.  We proceeded to get heroically (but classily) shitfaced.  Pisco featured. As did gin. When we came to leave, we descended the spiral staircase just to find that it goes beyond the ground floor and directly into the swimming pool. So Chan is standing there for a good five seconds, wondering why she is wet to the knees. Our non-English-speaking Uber driver (I was in no condition to explain where the flat was, so the app did the work for me) listened to Chan giggling all the way back, bemusedly.

We trusted you!

The following day I was monstrously hungover. Chan - who does not get hungover- took us to the museum of contemporary art. In the cafe there, I inadvertently had the ideal hangover meal as I was at the mercy of the set menu.  So after accidentally drinking two bowls of wholesome veggie broth, a fresh-pressed juice and somehow eating a salad of chicken and Quinoa (they grow it here, so it doesn't make you a twat to order it), I felt pretty good.

Santiago (St James) himself.

The last thing of note was another walking tour we joined.  Our guide was occasionally upstaged by a Labrador/(possibly)Collie street dog that always follows his tours, but who was very friendly.

We picked up some local facts, he pointed out those creepy-as-fuck cafés up the page and gave us some history of the people and of the architecture.

This is to do with the native tribes being displaced or something

The local parks have a lot of gift installations from around the world, the largest being from Germany.  East Germany (being a touch socialist themselves) took in a load of left-wing exiles during the unpleasantness.

America sent a bust of old Abe.  He gets a bit of a hard time with graffiti and whatnot, as the U.S support for Pinochet does not go unremembered.

So with that ends our stint in mainland South America.  Chile was an agreeable place to finish.  It is better developed than Brazil and less dysfunctional than Argentina, although both those countries had their own charm.   Everyone (pretty much without exception) has been very friendly all over the continent, and we've seen things I genuinely hadn't imagined before. It was the section of the trip I was most reticent about - knowing next-to-nothing about most of these places, beyond guidebook warnings of violence and theft in darkened alleyways- but it's been really rather special.

But now we must leave as we have an appointment with some big fat heads...

Kurzfassung auf Deutsch:  Santiago war Scöhn.  Wir haben in einem Wohnung geblieben, aber dass ein bisschen chaotisch war.  Es gibt viele Straßenhunde hier. Ich mag Hunde, aber wenn ich sie ohne Familien sehen, es macht mich traurig.  Wir haben eine fantastische und aufwendigen Mahlzeit gegessen. Es war eine geheime Bar im Obergeschoss, wo Chan und ich bekam sehr betrunken. Sie ging in den Pool nach!  Jetzt müssen wir Südamerika verlassen. Wir haben einen Termin mit einigen großen, fetten Köpfe...