TRAVEL HINTS
_Adopting Local Customs--Value of the Spanish Language--Knowledge
of People Obtained through Their Speech--English in
Trade--Serviceable Clothing in Different Climates--Moderation
in Diet--Coffee at its True Worth--Wines and Mineral
Waters--Native Dishes--Tropical Fruits--Aguacate and Cheremoya
Palatal Luxuries--Hotels and Hotel-keepers--Baggage Afloat and
Ashore--Outfits for the Andes: Food and Animals--West Coast
Quarantines--Money Mediums--The Common Maladies and How to
Treat Them_
To live as they live; to travel as they travel;--that is about
all there is to living and travelling in South America and on the
Isthmus.
All the customs will not be adopted by Northerners, nor all the
habits followed. More comfort will be demanded and more cleanliness.
But the general fact holds that the people living in any country
have acquired by experience the knowledge of what is required by
climatic and other conditions in regard to food, drink, dress,
shelter, and recreation. There is reason for all things, even for
the adobe tomb dwellings of the aboriginal Indians of Bolivia, or
the mid-day siesta of the busy merchant of Panama.
First of all, it is desirable to know the language. Spanish is
the idiom of South America, with the exception of Brazil. At the
outset let me say that the chance traveller who wants to go down
the coast or even take an occasional trip into the interior can
get along with his stock of English. In all the seaport towns are
English-speaking persons, merchants or others. On the ships English
is as common as Spanish, and in some of the obscurest places the
tongue of Chaucer may be heard. In one of the most out-of-the-way
and utterly forsaken little holes on the coast, I found the local
official who was sovereign there teaching his boy arithmetic in
English. He had been both in England and in the United States, and
while his own prospects now were bounded by the horizon of the
cove and the drear brown mountain cliffs that shut it in, he was
determined that his son should have a wider future. There are also
many young South Americans who have been educated in the United
States and some of whom are met at almost inaccessible points in
the interior.
I state this so that no one who contemplates a journey may be turned
away from it by any supposed difficulty in getting along through
inability to speak the prevailing idiom. He can do very well. Yet
with all his faculties of observation alert he will miss much through
his ignorance of the readiest mode of conveying and receiving
thought. To know any country it is necessary to know the people, and
the people are only known through the medium of their speech. Their
customs are better understood, their limitations are appreciated,
and their strivings for something better, if they have any, are
interpreted sympathetically. The paramount local topic becomes a
living theme into which the visitor can enter understandingly and
add to his stock of knowledge.
Let me say, also, that wherever trade is, there is the English
language, and as commerce grows it will spread. The terse English
business letter is the admiration of the Latin-American merchant.
Yet there is no wilder notion than that trade will advance itself
without the knowledge of the language of the country into which it
is pushing. Many native mercantile houses have English-speaking
clerks, or occasionally a member of the firm knows the idiom. But
the commercial traveller from the United States who does not speak
Spanish never will compete with his German rival who talks trade
in all known tongues.
This, in brief, is the commercial situation as to the English
language. The business man who waits for Spanish America to come
within its sphere as the world language, will not achieve success
in this generation.
For those who look forward to a future in South America, either
in trade or in industrial enterprises, there is only one word of
advice to be given: that is, to learn Spanish and to learn it at
once. Diffident as the North American is about foreign tongues and
badly as he speaks any language except his own, there is little
reason why his self-distrust or his contempt for other nationalities
should keep him from acquiring Spanish. “It is pronounced as written
and is written as pronounced.” Colloquially it is the easiest of
tongues to master. Since every letter is sounded and is always
pronounced the same, there is no trouble with the syllables and there
are no such difficult sounds as the German umlaut or the French
“en.” The high-sounding expressions, while they seem very formal
and complicated, are quickly acquired, and the habit of thinking
of the greetings of the day and similar commonplace topics in the
strange tongue comes more easily than is imagined. With practice
any fairly persistent person can get enough of Spanish to avoid
the cumbersome process of thinking in English and then translating
his thoughts. A vocabulary of 2,000 words is an ample one for the
purposes of every-day life.
The oaths need not be learned. The English expletives are expressive
enough not to need translation, and they lack the suggestive
obscenity of the Spanish objurgations. It is good to learn
“_Caramba!_” in all the tones and inflections and to stop there.
The phrase-book may be studied without ridicule, and every
opportunity be taken for putting its precepts to the test. I do not
mean from this to indicate that a thorough knowledge of Spanish can
be gained in such manner, or that the Yankee ever will master the
noble and stately literary language of Cervantes, Calderon, and Lope
de Vega. He will not need to use the literary language. If he have
a chance to secure his first training in Bogota or Lima, that will
be an unusual advantage, for it is in those capitals that the purest
Spanish of the New World is spoken. But this is not necessary, and
if it be his misfortune to learn the rudiments through an uneducated
Chilean or Argentine source, even that harsh and choppy Spanish
will be understood. By all this I mean the practical tool of the
tongue in common use, and not the melodious Castilian that may be
desirable in polite society.
It is a very decided advantage to know enough of the written language
to read the newspapers, an occasional book by a native author, the
steamship schedules, the railway time-tables, the proclamations
and official decrees, and the advertising posters. All serve their
purpose to the man who has business or who would be in touch with
his surroundings. It is true that in the interior the Indian tribes
adhere to their own dialects and the majority of South American
Indians do not understand Spanish. But the officials everywhere speak
it, and in the Indian villages there is a head man, or _cacique_,
who knows the idiom of the master race. If they are not familiar
with Spanish, the sounds of English are even more strange to them.
Dress for sea voyages is easily determined, but clothing for land
and sea is a more difficult question. My own experience, and I think
it is the experience of other travellers, has been that woollens are
the most serviceable in all climates. In the cold regions they are
essential. In the tropics, when loosely woven, they are comfortable.
Where the pure wool is disagreeable to the wearer, a mixture of
cotton in the garment may serve. Flannels are the best protection
against an overheated body and quick changes of temperature. These
hints apply to all places, all times, and all conditions.
For the rest, although the Anglo-Saxon newcomer sometimes assumes
otherwise, the people of all the West Coast cities are civilized and
accustomed to the usages of polite society. Men wear the conventional
dress suit, or _traje de etiqueta_, on formal occasions. The six
o’clock rule does not hold in Spanish-American countries. Official
functions, weddings, and similar social gatherings call for the
dress suit as early as ten o’clock in the morning. But the visitor
in this matter may consult his own convenience to some extent,
regardless of local customs. The professional classes, doctors and
lawyers especially, have a habit of upholding their dignity by
wearing the tall hat and the frock coat in the hottest seasons.
It is rather a tradition than a requirement of good breeding. The
traveller may ignore it without losing social caste.
In the matter of eating and drinking moderation is a rule which
slowly impresses itself on foreigners. As to drinking, the Englishman
on the West Coast has not yet learned temperance. He absorbs vast
quantities of brandy and soda, or of whiskey and water, with the
soda or water always in infinitesimal amounts. He has his excuse for
it,--the loneliness of his exile, the climate, and so forth. But
he also has a counter-irritant for the drink habit in his fondness
for the manly outdoor sports which he practises as regularly as at
home.
French wines may be procured anywhere in South America, but it is
not always well to trust the labels. A fair native wine is made in
Peru, and Chile produces an unusually good article. If the quality
of the claret is not quite equal to Medoc, it is good enough for
any one except a connoisseur. English ales also are to be had, and
of recent years bottled St. Louis or Milwaukee beer can be obtained
at all the larger places. I have found St. Louis beer up in the
Cerro de Pasco mining regions of Peru. All of the countries have
local breweries, but Americans do not like the brew.
Mineral waters, which are to be had everywhere, in time come to
pall on the palate. They may be alternated with the wines or other
beverages satisfactorily. There is a native drink called _chicha_,
a distillation of corn fermented in lye, which is refreshing and
strengthening and tastes like fresh cider. The subjects of the Incas
refreshed the Spanish conquerors with this drink. It is celebrated
in song,--“_O nectar sabroso._” Yet a word of warning--to enjoy
_chicha_ a second time and other times, make no inquiry and take
no thought of how it is prepared. Always imbibe it from a gourd.
The aboriginal thirst of the Indians and also of the _mestizos_, or
half-breeds, is for raw alcohol. This thirst is satisfied by the
_aguardiente_, or cane rum. It demoralizes the native population,
and is a curse with which the governments are unable to cope. When
the rum cannot be obtained, some other form of alcoholic spirits
is provided.
The Continental custom as to meals obtains both in the tropical parts
of the West Coast and in the colder climates, as in Bolivia and
Chile. There is simply breakfast, or the mid-day meal, and dinner. In
the morning coffee and rolls--or with most of the Spanish-Americans,
coffee and cigarettes--are the sole refreshment which is expected
to carry one through till noon. Americans, however, usually procure
fruit and eggs. Coffee-making and coffee-drinking are arts unknown
to the Yankee. Travel in South America is a liberal and much-needed
education in this respect.
The _almuerzo_, or mid-day breakfast, is fully as substantial a meal
as the six or seven o’clock dinner. Both begin with soup and fish,
the best of the latter being the _corbina_. At the breakfast eggs
invariably are served, and usually rice. The latter is prepared as
a vegetable with rare art, retaining the form and whiteness of the
grain. Meat courses, beginning with the fowl, follow in procession,
and a salad always may be had.
The Spaniard and his descendants in South America approach roast
pig as reverently as Charles Lamb did. For them it is a poem. A
very good dish transplanted from Spain is called the _puchero_, and
is something like a New England boiled dinner, having a variety of
vegetables cooked with the meats which are its foundation.
In the interior, where reliance has to be had on the Indian
population, the standard dish is the _chupé_, though it bears
different names. This is a rich soup, highly seasoned by dried
red peppers, with plenty of vegetables, and with a meat stock as
the basis. Sometimes the meat is the vicuña or llama, sometimes
goat, sometimes mutton, and once in a while beef. It is wholesome
and satisfying. The only caution to be observed is not to see its
preparation by the Indian women.
Two luxuries among the fruits of the tropics make oranges, bananas,
and pineapples seem commonplace. These are the alligator pear and
the _cheremoya_. The Northern appetite cloys at the preserved
sweets which the tropical palate demands, but it never loses the
enjoyment of these fruits. The alligator pear (_Guanabanus Persea_)
in the West Indies and in Mexico goes by the name of _aguacate_ or
_avocat_. In South America it is called the _palta_. It is eaten
as a salad, and French genius never concocted a delicacy equal to
this natural appetizer.
[Illustration: Banana Grove]
[Illustration: Pineapple Garden]
The _aguacate_ looks like a small squash rather than a pear. It
has a kernel, or hard stone, as big as the fist. The flanks are
laid open, the stone removed, and the fruit is ready to serve
in its own dressing. Some prefer it with just a pinch of salt.
Others add a touch of pepper. Many like a little vinegar with the
salt and pepper, and a few even prefer a regular French dressing
with oil, though that is apt to spoil the natural flavor. Epicures
like it with sugar and lemon juice. The _aguacate_ is one of the
undisguised palatal blessings of the tropics and the semi-tropics.
It should be sought after and insisted on at every occasion. The
imported fruit loses the poetic savor. The most careful packing
and tenderest care cannot preserve its delicate taste. I tried it
once in bringing some from Honolulu to San Francisco. They looked
well, but something was lacking in the taste. A similar experience
between Jamaica and New York was the reward for my efforts. I was
convinced after these experiments that the _aguacate_ is one of the
real luxuries which it pays to go abroad in order to enjoy. Young
persons who travel will be interested in knowing that it is said
to germinate the tender sentiment.
The _cheremoya_ is not unlike the pawpaw of the temperate climates.
The fibre is harder and not so juicy. But the fruit is very rich, so
rich that the palate does not crave much. A mouthful lingers like
the dream of the poet. The _cheremoya_ is called the _anona_ in
Cuba. Several varieties of it differ from one another only in the
delicacy and richness of the flavor. Cracked ice is the complement
of the fruit. They should be introduced to each other an hour before
serving.
A delusion which the adventuring North American should get rid of
is that no decent hotels are found on the West Coast and in the
interior. Everywhere are passable ones and in some of the cities
exceptionally good ones. In the ordinary coast towns they are not
much more than stopping-places, yet almost invariably an excellent
breakfast or dinner can be obtained. As to the lodging conveniences
the old Spanish tradition still obtains that a place to sleep in
is all that is called for, and clean linen and similar comforts
should not be demanded by the traveller who is moving on. But even
in this respect improvements are being made.
Most of the hotel-keepers are of foreign nationality,--French,
Germans, Italians, and Spaniards. It is rare to find anything of a
higher grade than an inn kept by a native. The best hotels are those
under the control of the Frenchmen, and when a choice is to be made
they should be given the preference, for there is not only good
eating but cleanliness and some consideration for the conveniences
of life. A Frenchman keeps the hotel at La Paz in Bolivia, and it
is a good one. Another passably fair house of entertainment in the
same place is kept by a Russian. At the mining-town of Oruro a North
American of German descent provides excellent accommodations. In
the remote town of Tupiza in the fastnesses of the Andes, where of
all places one would hardly look for a foreigner, I found a Slav
hotel-keeper and a decent kind of a resting-place. The proprietor was
from one of the Danubian provinces. In Lima a very well appointed
hotel is managed by an Italian. In Santiago the best one is under
the control of a Frenchman.
In the interior palatial inns are not to be expected, though a young
French mining engineer who came out telegraphed along the Andes trail
which he was to follow to have room with bath reserved for him. The
telegram is still shown. Such inns as exist are called _tambos_.
Even in the poorest of these, while the lodging is wretched, a good
meal usually can be had.
The practice obtains nearly everywhere of charging separately for
the lodging, but in some of the larger cities the hotels now are
conducted on the American plan. The visitor is apt to be puzzled
by the annexes. Naturally he assumes that the annexes to a hotel
are part of it, but usually they are separate and under a distinct
management. In Valparaiso there are a Hotel Colon and a Hotel Colon
Annex, a block or two apart and altogether different. In Santiago
are the Hotel Oddo and the Annex to the Oddo, and so on. This causes
confusion, and the traveller should make inquiry in advance so as
to know where he is going. While the sanitary conveniences in most
of the hotels are poor, improvements are being made, and there is
something of an approach to the demands of civilization.
A simple rule as to baggage holds good. Take as little as practicable
and pack it as conveniently as possible. That means a good deal
of loose luggage; but since trunks are charged by weight and very
few of the railroads make any allowance for free baggage, it is
desirable to have one’s belongings arranged so that they can be
piled up around him. One soon becomes accustomed to this and to
providing himself with an armful of rugs and blankets.
Railroad fares are about one-third less than in the United States.
The accommodations are not luxurious, but they are fair. Night trips
are unknown. Chile is the only country on the West Coast which
provides a through night train with a sleeper. This is on the line
between Santiago and Talca.
An addition to the regular expense of travel is that for embarkation
and disembarkation. It is not covered in the steamship ticket, and
since, with few exceptions, in the different ports the vessels do
not go to wharves of their own or put their passengers ashore in
lighters, each makes his choice of the small boats and pays the
bill. These charges are not high, yet in the course of a long voyage
they mount up, and it always is desirable to make the bargain with
the boatman in advance.
For travel in the Andine regions it is necessary to provide one’s own
outfit. For those who have to go about much it is not practicable
to have their own pack and riding animals, though occasionally a
mining engineer will keep a pair of horses or mules and transport
them from place to place. Usually the mules and burros, or donkeys,
have to be hired. In every case it is advantageous to own the
_montura_, or saddle, and other accoutrements, with especial regard
to the capacity of the saddle-bags. Though in the United States the
McClellan is the favorite for hard travelling, Americans engaged
in mining or in exploration work in the Andes prefer the Mexican
saddle. A mining company in southern Peru after various trials
discarded everything except Mexican saddles, and had these made
especially in San Francisco. In my own experience I found them the
most comfortable.
The _petacas_, or leather trunks, are used by all the South
Americans. These are small, and a pair of them balance nicely on
either side of the pack animal. Yet during a long mountain journey
I managed to transport an ordinary trunk. The Andean mule is bred in
northern Argentina. It is not the society pet that is its cousin of
the United States Army, and it will carry a burden of two hundred
pounds in the upper altitudes.
A supply of canned goods and similar provisions is essential, for
it is not possible to rely solely on such wayfaring entertainment
as may be had at the Indian huts, even when the trip is short
enough to keep within the limits of human habitation. _Charqui_,
or jerked beef, is the mainstay of the stomach for a long journey,
but dried mutton sometimes may be had, and is less likely to become
unpalatable. _Chuni_, the dried and frozen potato which nourishes
the Bolivian Indians, has nutritive virtues, but palatability is
not one of them.
The chief problem in mountain travelling is fodder for the animal
rather than food for the man. In the valleys and part way up the
_punas_, or table-lands, fresh alfalfa may be had. But in the higher
sierras this is lacking, and it is necessary to carry a stock of
barley. In some places where barley can be raised it runs to straw
and does not mature into the grain, so that the local supply is
not to be depended on.
A hammock is useful in the forest regions. A tent and other camping
outfit are sometimes desirable, yet where it is possible to keep
within the range of population it is better to risk shelter in the
Indian huts, the traveller carrying his own blankets or sleeping-bag.
A Western frontiersman or miner has little difficulty in outfitting
for the Andean regions.
The quarantine is one of the serious annoyances of travel on
the West Coast, though the interruption which it causes often
is exaggerated. At times one may have to postpone a landing or
a departure because of the restriction, and in that case there
is nothing to be done but go on to the next open port and wait
in patience. The regulations of the different governments are
similar, though they are not always enforced with discretion and
common-sense. Yet they are no more severe than the regulations of
New Orleans or other Southern ports of the United States. Their
purpose of self-protection is justifiable. The objection is that the
application of the measures taken is unreasonable. The steamship
companies insist on the exaction of charging the passengers an
extra sum for the time in which the vessel is held in quarantine.
So many sorts of money are in circulation that it is impossible
for the traveller not to lose through exchange. The United States
dollar is known well enough, but it has not yet made its way down
the coast sufficiently to insure being taken for its full worth.
Letters of credit and bank drafts would better be in English money,
for the banks and exchange houses insist on counting the $5 gold
piece as equal only to the pound sterling, or $4.85. It will take
some years for the full result of the Panama money system to be
felt on the West Coast, though ultimately that will help to extend
the use of United States currency.
A calculation is made every quarter by the United States Mint of
the value of the coins representing the monetary units of the
various Latin-American countries. This serves as an index of values,
though in actual transactions it cannot always be insisted upon.
The universal coin on the West Coast is the Peruvian _sol_, equal
to 48½ cents gold. It is the size of the American silver dollar.
Since Peru has the gold standard and coins a Peruvian pound called
the _inca_, exactly the weight and fineness of the English pound
sterling, there is no fluctuation. Ten _soles_ make a pound. For
local purposes along the coast the Peruvian _sol_ is therefore the
best medium of exchange.
I have left for separate consideration the subject of the diseases
incident to West Coast travel and residence. Their mention frightens.
Why, I do not know.
Pneumonia and typhoid in the temperate climates cause greater
ravages than tropical diseases in their field, nor is malaria in
its manifold manifestations limited to a given area. Fever and ague
in the United States, _calentura_ in the West Indies, _terciana_
in the forest regions of the Andes,--it all is essentially the
breakbone fever. Quinine and calomel remain the tonic preventives.
Tropical dysentery is to be guarded against by common-sense in diet.
The social vices bring their inexorable penalty more swiftly than
in the North, but their remedy is the moral prophylactic. Yellow
fever, since the demonstration of the mosquito as the active agent
in its propagation, is losing its terrors, but its avoidance comes
under the sphere of epidemic quarantines rather than of individual
measures. The exceptional conditions which will prevail on the
Isthmus during the Canal construction and the exceptional means
adopted to combat disease are not to be taken as representative of
the West Coast. Yet the benefit of this experience will be great.
But whether along the coast, on the plateaus of the Andes, or in
the tropical valleys, one general rule is more valuable than a
medicine chest. It is that of a healthy, fearless mind which does
not magnify ordinary ailments and which keeps its poise in the
shadow of more serious illness.