Chile, Day 8: Lluvia en Copiapo

While hanging around the hotel door, waiting for my ride to work this morning, I noticed that the sidewalk outside was wet. This, in itself, is not such a big deal because business people wash down the sidewalks in front of their places every morning (what with the dogs and all). But then I noticed that the street was wet too. And that water was still dripping from the hotel roof. It took a while for me to realize that it had actually RAINED. Apparently this monumental event happened between 5:30 and 7:30 this morning and somehow I slept right through it.

At the college, people all over were dealing with the rainfall. All of the furniture in the main office had been moved to one side in order for the staff to deal with a big leak in the roof. The carpeting was soaked. In my little office the water was also dripping steadily into one corner. I went to talk to a colleague down the hall who was checking the news on the internet. "Siete millimetres!" He was shaking his head in disbelief. For a place that barely gets 12 mm of rainfall in a year, 7 mm is a lot of precipitation for one day. (For comparison: any place with less than 250 mm per year is classified as a desert. Cranbrook gets almost 400 mm.) "When was the last time this happened?" I asked. He thought for a few moments but couldn't remember, exactly; maybe about 10 years ago.

I recalled a conversation I'd had with Clayton, the fellow with whom I'd had meetings in Santiago last week. He was telling me that when rain falls in the Atacama, it's a problem for people. Some communities, especially, are simply not set up for rain. There is no drainage. House builders do not worry about making the roofs watertight. Many cars don't have functioning windshield wipers. Why bother? The problem is that when it DOES rain, it virtually immobilizes the community. Something like when it snows in Victoria I suppose.

But although it's a problem for people, it's apparently not a problem for all living things. My colleague was telling me that after a big rain like this morning's, the desert becomes alive with flowers. It's a rare event and it takes some time to materialize, but it's astoundingly beautiful. It turns the area into a world-class destination.

Later, I went for a walk around town to have a look. Sure enough, I noticed that none of the buildings have eaves and the puddles don't really drain from the streets. The electricity was out in the shopping mall across the street and there was no running water for a while. But the air was clean and moist and invigorating. I stopped for some coffee and had a piece of 'tres leches', a kind of special cake made with three different kinds of milk. It was very moist -- almost a pudding -- and very delicious.