tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-353047332024-03-13T23:40:07.239+00:00Diary Of A GringoI created this blog to document my journey backpacking through South America and southern Africa during 2006-2007. I know, it's now been ages since my trip, but I still find myself coming back here every now and again to remind myself of people and places that I would otherwise have completely forgotten. I had a lot of fun producing this content, and even though you're coming across this blog years after the party's over, you may still find it a useful and interesting resource..http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517861099582946869noreply@blogger.comBlogger45125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35304733.post-17235143664876570262007-03-06T14:43:00.000+00:002007-03-06T17:01:27.443+00:00My Last Adventure<em>Facing the prospect of a boring week in Pretoria or Jo’burg pre-flying home I decided to head out on one last mini-adventure before returning to the UK…</em><br /><br /><div><div><strong></strong></div><div><strong>I GASPED as I checked my bank account online for the first time in nearly a month. “That’s even less money than I thought I had!” I said out loud to no-one in particular. I realized that with no money and no mysterious benefactor (unlike Pip in <em>Great Expectations</em>) I would have to come home slightly earlier than I planned. I was soon on the phone to Qantas and then appearing in person at the British Airways Ticket Office at Jo’burg Airport. To cut the tedious story of a dull afternoon short, I arranged to fly home ten days early, on March 4th.</strong> </div><div><br /></div><div>That left me a week or so left in South Africa. With no money to do a serious trip and not excited by staying in the Gauteng area (Pretoria and Jo’burg) the question remained; what to do? The answer came to me after a few other plans fell through. I couldn’t get hold of my friend Ebony who was getting a marriage blessing in Jo’burg the next weekend for which I had been provisionally invited. Don’t know what happened there. After that, a teacher from the school I spent my Gap year at said she would come down to get me and I could spend a week with her. But she never came down, I couldn’t contact her, and that never happened either. <div><a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Re2O6yMoZBI/AAAAAAAAAKY/IgNi7gJmZkc/s1600-h/Bob.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5038840698655761426" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Re2O6yMoZBI/AAAAAAAAAKY/IgNi7gJmZkc/s200/Bob.jpg" border="0" /></a></div></div><div></div><div><a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Re2O6yMoZBI/AAAAAAAAAKY/IgNi7gJmZkc/s1600-h/Bob.jpg"></a></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>Frustrated and exasperated (which may mean the same thing) with these failures I was feeling down on my luck when all of a sudden I was quite surprised to receive a message that President Robert Mugabe of Zimbabwe (right) had requested my attendance at a State dinner in the capital Harare in a few days. Incredible. Maybe I could travel in a limo?<br /><br />Actually I have a confession to make. The above paragraph is not really…ok, it’s a big fat lie. Could you tell? I’m not even sure that Bob Mugabe has even heard of me. But my friend Sarah, who is Zimbabwean and lived for a time in Plymouth last year, now lives back home in Harare and I decided to get in contact to see if I could go up and see her. Her cell phone really wasn’t working well when I tried it (which was A LOT), but I got through for long enough to ascertain that she was indeed at home. I tried many times to establish contact for longer but to no avail. </div><div><br /></div><div>Still, I had my mission. I decided to head up to Zimbabwe! </div><div><br /></div><div>Now, to fly or not to fly? That would surely be Shakespeare’s main question had he been a 21st Century budget traveller out of money and at the end of a long trip instead of a bloke from Stratford with a rhyming dictionary. In the end I boarded a lovely Greyhound bus for the blink-and-you’ll-miss-it 17 hour bus ride to Harare. </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>On the way I was reading a copy of South Africa's FHM (just for cultural research purposes, obviously). I was particularly interested in an article called '25 Reasons Why SA Rules!' Apart from things you might think of such as Nelson Madela, table moutain, Zulus, the world's greatest sausage, etc. they also included the ability to fight a lot, drink drive well and corrupt and easily bribed cops. Interesting. </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>There was difficulty at the border where the passport control man insisted (correctly) that a visa cost US$55. I had been under the impression that possibly it was free to enter. I said that the Zimbabwe Embassy in London told me it was free. I have, of course, never visited the Zim (as I will cabbreviate it) Embassy in London. We resolved that I would pay for the visa. Then he showed me that the visa sticker book that, like a book titled 'Great Songs by James Blunt', was empty. I said that if I was going to pay that much for a visa I wanted a big sticker. So I paid US$70 for a double entry visa, meaning I can go back anytime until August FOR FREE. Wow. I’ll start looking at brochures on Zim as soon as I get home. If there are any. </div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, I was into Zim. A whole new country. Arriving in Harare, I could see no sight of the hostel pick-up I was promised, but a kind Zim couple from the bus saw my concern and gave me a lift to the hostel themselves. They were lovely. In fact they even offered me a place to stay at their house but I decided in the end to stay at the hostel as we had arrived. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Re2SfyMoZII/AAAAAAAAALQ/VAaUdE2MTQ8/s1600-h/100_2628.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5038844632845804674" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Re2SfyMoZII/AAAAAAAAALQ/VAaUdE2MTQ8/s200/100_2628.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div>Small World Backpackers is located in the north-west of Harare near the Avondale Shopping Centre, if you know the area. The staff are quite friendly, especially a woman called Moreblessing, which I think is a brilliant name. I also met an Innocence. Fantastic. The hostel is nice, although the pool table has seen better days (left). Another interesting factoid of Small World is that in the lounge are every copy of National Geographic 1998-2002. I’m not sure what happened after 2002, but I’m sure it’s Mugabe’s fault. </div><div><br /></div><div>I was having trouble getting hold of Sarah, trying her phone and questioning my friend Neil back home for details of her address. But I didn’t want to spend all my time trying to get hold of her. So I went for a walk to the shops, then I got a taxi downtown to have a walk around the city. On the way we passed by State House (where the President lives). I called for him but they said he was sulking and didn’t want to come out. I then went to the city centre, saw only a few whites and subsequently feel I may have looked out of place. I passed the Parliament where the ‘democratic process’ takes place. It’s not a very impressive building, just a converted two-story hotel. </div><div><br /></div><p align="left"><a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Re2RUCMoZFI/AAAAAAAAAK4/rQX5KquvogU/s1600-h/100_2625.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5038843331470713938" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Re2RUCMoZFI/AAAAAAAAAK4/rQX5KquvogU/s320/100_2625.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><div><strong>Money, money, money, must be funny…<br /></strong><br />I decided to go to the cinema and at this point it’s best to mention the great currency issue of Zimbabwe. Officially US$1 gets you 250 Zimbabwe dollars. But if you go into a supermarket and look at the prices you'll see a carton of fuit juice costs ZIM$10,000. TEN THOUSAND. That’s US$40 for some juice, or 20 pounds sterling. For some juice! </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>By the official exchange rates, Zimbabwe is the most expensive country in the world. However, just about everyone changes money illegally on the black market (or through helpful hostels). On the black market you can get ZIM$5,000 or ZIM$6,000 for one US$1, thus making Zimbabwe one of the cheapest countries in the world. Economics is fascinating isn’t it? So I was able to get ZIM$560,000 for my US$200. Unfortunately a nice German staying at the hostel had changed US$250 at the airport at the OFFICIAL RATE. This makes him one of the poorest men in the whole of Africa. Things are cheap Zim. A cinema ticket or beer costs about ZIM$3,000, that’s 50c or 25p. Not bad. </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>After the cinema (I saw Lucky Number Slevin. I was impressed, it was entertaining, had an cool storyline and Ben Kingsley – sorry, SIR Ben Kinglsey – was really interesting weird, but isn’t he always?) I tried Sarah again. Still no luck, so I bought five different Zim beers and had a tasting competition joined by a nice Zambian guy called Marlon. </div><div><br /></div><div align="center"><strong>ZIMBABWEAN BEER TASTING</strong> </div><div align="center"><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5038842386577908786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Re2QdCMoZDI/AAAAAAAAAKo/WxYAOFd8rU0/s320/100_2636.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><div><strong>Name:</strong> ZAMBEZI<br /><strong>Tagline:</strong> 'Zimbabwe's own beer'</div><div><strong>Alc:</strong> 4.7%</div><div><strong>Context</strong>: Watching a Bob de Niro film. Not sure which one, though it looks to be near the end. Bob is distressed. He's saying things like, "I ws sure we could get the [important device type thing] to work." Can his career be saved? Only time will tell.</div><div></div><div><strong>Notes:</strong> Medium bodied and well balanced. Pleasant enough without any distinctive flavours. Sits well in the stomach. A good beer for a long session, I think.</div><div><strong>Verdict: A good start - 7/10</strong></div><br /><div><strong>Name:</strong> BOHLINGER</div><div><strong>Tagline:</strong> 'Cool, smooth and refreshing'</div><div><strong>Alc</strong>: 4.2%</div><div><strong>Context:</strong> Schlocky CSI episode. Location is seafront area, possibly Miami or Torquay. Sample dialogue; "You told the feds!" "I was having a drink with the feds, it slipped out." Rubbish.</div><div><strong>Notes:</strong> The link to the champagne of similar name is unclear, but Bohlinger is clean, crisp and stylish like the French tipple. Difficul to object to, and a fun label too.</div><div><strong>Verdict: Would go down well in England. Bolly is leading the field early on! - 8/10</strong></div><a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Re2VoyMoZJI/AAAAAAAAALY/0J45URxUCAc/s1600-h/100_2642.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5038848085999510674" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Re2VoyMoZJI/AAAAAAAAALY/0J45URxUCAc/s200/100_2642.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><strong>Name:</strong> EAGLE<br /><strong>Tagline:</strong> 'Celebrate our taste'</div><div><div><strong>Alc:</strong> 5% </div><div><strong>Context:</strong> Reading National Geographic. Did you know that the British island Monserrat in the Carribean has a capital called Plymouth? It's true.</div><div><strong>Notes:</strong> Ooh, a divisive one, this. Heavy, earthy flavours and a deep malty finish. Definately not for casual drinkers. </div><div><strong>Verdict: An acquired taste for seasoned beer guzzlers, not suitable for first timers - 6/10</strong></div><br /><div><strong>Name:</strong> GOLDEN PILSNER</div><div><strong>Tagline:</strong> Unknown</div><div><strong>Alc:</strong> Unknown</div><div><strong>Context:</strong> Watching Zimbabwe public television channel ZBC. Some soap is on. It's <em>awful</em>.</div><div><strong>Notes:</strong> I can't tell you too much about this one because I gave it too Marlon, but I had a sip and it tasted ok.</div><div><strong>Verdict: 'Not bad, worth a try', which is a completely unimaginative review on a par with writing 'hope you have a good time' or 'don't get too drunk!' in someone's birthday card - 6/10</strong></div><div></div><div></div><div><strong></strong></div><div><strong></strong></div><div><strong></strong></div><div><strong></strong></div><div><strong></strong></div><div><strong>Name:</strong> LION</div><div><strong>Tagline:</strong> 'Store in a cool, dry place'. Er, ok it doesn't have one.</div><div><strong>Alc:</strong> 5% </div><div><strong>Context:</strong> Marlon and I are watching Meet Joe Black. Marlon is very confused about what Brad Pitt is up to. Question - is that man <em>too</em> good-looking? Pitt, that is, not Marlon.</div><div><strong>Notes:</strong> Quite earthy and dull. Very dissapointing. I had big expectations for this one and I feel let down. One to bring out at the end of the night when everyone is too drunk to care.</div><div><strong>Verdict: An anti-climax. Also loses a point for not having a picture of a lion on the label. If I have a beer named after some great beast I want a picture of it to make me look more man-like as I drink it - 5/10</strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong>Conclusion</strong></div><br /><div>A worthwhile experiment. Suprisingly Bohlinger emerges as the best beer availablein the typical Zimbabwean supermarket, priced approximately ZIM$2,900, although due to inflation that will probably have changed by the time I publish this post.</div><br /><div></div><div><strong>Sarah. Finally.</strong></div><div><strong></strong></div><div></div><div></div><div>I spent the next few days trying Sarah and reading National Geographic. It’s a really good magazine when it’s on form. Not all the issues are that interesting but some are full of phenomenal adventures – tracking cloud leopards in the Indian forests or meeting indigenous tribes in the Venezuelan jungle, anyone? </div><br /><div>Two days before I went back to Jo’burg I got Sarah’s address and jumped in a taxi (it was actually more of a slouch, but I’m obviously trying to convey urgency). After a long drive around town (not stopping at some red lights – just like Jo’burg!) we found 27 Guys Cliff Road. Sarah (below) lives in a biiiiiiiiiiiig house with a swimming pool and built in bar in the house, etc. It’s her parent’s house, clearly. She’s only 20. </div><br /><div><a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Re2WSSMoZKI/AAAAAAAAALg/ogiP7hNS1-w/s1600-h/100_2658.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5038848798964081826" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Re2WSSMoZKI/AAAAAAAAALg/ogiP7hNS1-w/s320/100_2658.jpg" border="0" /></a>We had a cup of tea and a nice chat. She was unimpressed by my video of a large elephant herd. “But I see thet everydaay heeyah, Andeee, I’m from Africaar, hey” she said. She talks like that because she’s white. The whites here are called ‘Rhodies’, like ‘Rhodesia’ as Zim was formally known. So Sarah is a Rhody (not sure if that’s how you spell it) and has a funny accent. I can say that because she has only been on the internet about five times and will never read this. </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>I replied, “You see 100 elephants at a watering hole everyday in the suburbs of Harare?” To which she said, “Well, not everyday…but yaarrrh, you know, hey?” I didn’t know, but never mind. </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>She’s a lovely girl, but after a short while she had to go as she was going on holiday to Mozambique with her brother. A shame, but if I’d waited a few hours more I would have missed her altogether. Life’s funny, hey? Oh god now I’m doing it. She drove me back to the hostel, hence the picture of her at the wheel. I didn't force her to pose in her car for a picture. That would be weird.</div><br /><div>The last night and following day in Harare I hung out with two Germans. One was called Valentine and is a funky hat-wearing musician from Berlin. Everyone to him is “beautiful”. It’s endearing. We walked around Harare and went to the Botanic Gardens. The Shona people of Zim seem very friendly. I wasn’t in Zim long enough to get out into the countryside and really see any of the country. But in my last week I just wanted to relax and hangout somewhere different. So in that I achieved my goal, and I’m a happy camper. </div><div></div><div>On the bus going back to Jo’burg, to Park Station in fact, we watched the South African film <em>Tsotsi</em>, where someone gets mugged and killed in…Park Station. Thanks Greyhound. </div><br /><div>I’m now in Gemini Backpackers, the seventh or eigth hostel I’ve stayed at in Jo’burg. I'm awaiting my flight home. The hostel is ok. It has a full size snooker table, which is certainly not something you see in many other hostels. </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>None, in fact, now I think about it.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5038849176921203890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Re2WoSMoZLI/AAAAAAAAALo/E49ndBUkHCg/s200/100_2655.jpg" border="0" /></div></div>.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517861099582946869noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35304733.post-71927354530473848842007-03-04T15:10:00.000+00:002007-03-04T15:13:28.497+00:00Maps<a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Rerhpv1mLyI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/Md_7giIN5FE/s1600-h/750x750_southafrica_m2.GIF"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5038087240499474210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Rerhpv1mLyI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/Md_7giIN5FE/s400/750x750_southafrica_m2.GIF" border="0" /></a><br />Here is the route through southern Africa, with a few annotations. The map isstolen from Yahoo. Ssshh, don't tell them.<br /><div></div>.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517861099582946869noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35304733.post-38800145566323864702007-02-23T14:12:00.000+00:002007-02-23T17:23:15.035+00:00Coast to Coast<em>I travel round the coast of South Africa reunited with and rejuvenated by my girlfriend Laura. Join us on a journey through time and space as we explore the vineyards of Stellenbosch, stumble across a huge herd of elephants at Addo National Park and get woken up by monkeys in Zululand…</em><br /><br /><strong>AFTER NEARLY five months I finally see my girlfriend Laura again. She flew out to see me on February 9. Partly it was a holiday for her and a chance to see each other after a long interlude, but I also suspect she was checking up on me to make sure I was behaving myself and not up to any mischief.</strong><br /><br />Although I’ve been busy whale watching and trekking through canyons and getting sick and eating rodents I’ve really missed Laura. Especially the last few weeks when the date of her arrival approached I was getting really excited, apprehensive and even nervous.<br /><br />She flew into Cape Town where I had been waiting for two days to meet her, staying at the Ashanti Lodge. I had to wait another two hours for her as the flight was delayed. As it landed I excitedly scanned the disembarking passengers to see her. After waiting a while and not making a visual on her, I made a visit to the toilet and came back to find she was waiting <em>for me</em>. Disaster. I had failed in my boyfriend duties of officially meeting her off the plane. No chance to display my sign that read ‘LAURA BENNETT (the one from Suffolk)’. She wasn’t annoyed however, but tired, and we neded to go back to the hostel so she could have a rest.<br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034751922356486146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Rd8IMrhGAAI/AAAAAAAAAFE/5OJYkL7MSew/s400/003_3.JPG" border="0" /><br />It was dismally raining that day in Cape Town and Laura reminded me I had not delivered on my promise of sun in Africa. “But it was, like, 35 degrees yesterday,” I stammered, to no avail.<br /><br />The next day we hit the Waterfront and went up Table Mountain, although it was only clear to see anything for about 5% of the time we were up there, and that’s a generous figure. Still, what are you to do?<br /><br /><strong>Vino<br /></strong><br />It has been nice to share a romantic meal with someone other than a Swiss army captain. Laura and I ate a lot of prawns and drank cheap Sauvignon Blanc, which tasted really rough, but get what you pay for at three quid a bottle in a restaurant.<br /><br />From CT (that’s Cape Town, an abbreviation although I realize that by explaining that has taken more time than actually writing it in full) we made the short journey into wine country, staying at the robust Stumble Inn in Stellenbosch. Nice town. Very white. Forgot we were in Africa for a while.<br /><br />We hopped on a wine tour with some English girls, an Afrikaan couple and a honeymooning American couple from Atlanta, Georgia. The guy worked for CNN and talked <em>a lot</em>. </div><br /><div><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034756436367114258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Rd8MTbhGABI/AAAAAAAAAFM/tqILtXbvM-Y/s400/016_16.JPG" border="0" /><br />The tour was cool. Lot’s of wine consumed, of course. We popped up to Fairview Winery in Paarl, a producer that caused a lot of controversy by basing their wine names on French regions with the additional theme of goats (they make goats cheese) e.g. they have wines called ‘Goat Rotie’, ‘Bored Doe’ and ‘Goats Do Roam’ playing on Cote Rotie, Bordeaux and Cotes-du-Rhone. Some French wine makers tried to sue them and lost, merely confirming what many people have long believed - that the French have no sense of humour. Fairview also have a wine called 'The Goatfather’, however I don’t think Francis Ford Coppola has been in touch.<br /><br /><strong>Mr. Good</strong><br /><br />After the wine tour we went for dinner at a friend from school’s place. Nick and his charming girlfriend Kate are living in Stellenbosch at the moment, working bars and cafes, with the ultimate goal of going to Durban and catching the boat the to India. I think. Contrary to reports from some circles Nick did not perish on a refugee boat from Ghana, this time he flew to Johannesburg, saving him weeks on a boat and days in hospital. This Nick is of course the great Nick Good of Plymstock School, an old chum who was brave/crazy enough to go to Accra, Ghana from England OVERLAND. There aren’t too many tourists or backpackers in Burkina Faso, apparently. Nick got malaria on his trip, and once paid about 30 quid for a five minute phone call but what doesn't kill you... etc. I feel the experience may have been good for him. </div><div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034758201598672930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Rd8N6LhGACI/AAAAAAAAAFU/rWz-76hLiGU/s400/023_23.JPG" border="0" /> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034759094951870514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Rd8OuLhGADI/AAAAAAAAAFc/WLjc_FtQUik/s400/019_19.JPG" border="0" /><br />The following morning my head felt several sizes too big, to quote Marv from <em>Sin City</em>. I vowed to stay off the wine for at least that morning and afternoon. We hopped onto the Baz Bus and made our way to Plettenburg Bay on the ‘garden route’. The Baz Bus is a famous backpacker minibus service that takes you door to door between hostels. Actually, that sounds kind of breezy. What actually happened is that the Baz Bus were an hour late picking us up, then we were delayed because they had overbooked the service and then we broke down and had to wait in a service station for about four hours for a replacement van from CT (which is Cape Town, remember). We should have taken a mini-bus taxi! </div><br /><div><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034759631822782530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Rd8PNbhGAEI/AAAAAAAAAFk/WAIdGtH8HY0/s400/025_25.JPG" border="0" /> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034760246003105874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Rd8PxLhGAFI/AAAAAAAAAFs/wpWyRLrSFPs/s400/027_27.JPG" border="0" /><br />In Plettenburg Bay we stayed at Albergo’s which is very friendly and enthusiastically run. We were there for Valentine's Day and went to the beach, swam, larked about and ate at a lovely place called The Lookout, although we didn’t see any dolphins, which I had promised Laura. I said we’d see them in Coffee Bay later on in the trip. Then we headed to the hostel and lounged in hammocks for a while as we awaited the Baz Bus.</div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034778254800978338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Rd8gJbhGAaI/AAAAAAAAAJA/Z0JbvTtKGDw/s400/033_33.JPG" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034761087816695906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Rd8QiLhGAGI/AAAAAAAAAF0/Yk89PVlfSAM/s400/040_40.JPG" border="0" /> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034762114313879666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Rd8Rd7hGAHI/AAAAAAAAAF8/TQqgNDStOm4/s400/047_47.JPG" border="0" /><br /><strong>Heffalumps and other animals</strong><br /><br />Sadly, we hung around in ‘Plett’ for only a night, and were once again at the time-consuming mercy of the Baz Bus. Thankfully we arrived in Port Elizabeth, or PE (as it really is called here) only an hour or so late, at Jikeleza Lodge. It was a whole evening of traveling and we were pretty tired out. The guy who ran the lodge was a guy named Mike. I’m not prejudiced in this area but I’m always a bit on edge when someone says to me, “A marvelous thing happened to me in church today.” It turns out Mike is part of a happy clapping, nay, prog rocking Christian movement in PE which is divided into ‘cells’, which each have a leader. I am not making this up. But Mike was a cool guy, very friendly and helpful.<br /><br />The next day was one of the highlights of my whole trip. If you’re in Africa you really need to see some wildlife. So we went on a trip to Addo National Park which houses up to 450 elephants. It was very exciting. At first we struggled to see any, but then our guide Peter got a tip-off and we turned around and headed for one of the park’s viewing points. We went through some wire door type thing where we were warned of the possible presence of lions, then walked for a few minutes up to a wooden fence. Upon looking out through the fence we could see an amazing and awesome sight. A massive herd of elephants, maybe more than a hundred, at one of the park’s watering holes. These are wild elephants, they are monitored by the park but not interfered with. It was a great sight to see.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034764059934064802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Rd8TPLhGAKI/AAAAAAAAAGU/b6f6fKNChWE/s400/058_58.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div>One of the guides said it was ‘as good as Addo gets’, which I can believe. Laura was very excited as she loves ‘heffalumps’ and has quite a few cuddly furry ones at home. I have promised to get her a baby elephant for her birthday. On the way out an elephant ran across the path of the car. Awesome.<br /><br />In the afternoon we went to Scotchia Private Reserve game park. It was very, very cool. Sitting in one of those open top land rovers we went through the big gates of the Reserve and into another world. Jurassic Park! </div><br /><div align="left">We saw beautiful kudu, impala and nyala (types of antelope), warthog, zebra, wildebeest, giraffe, buffalo and rhino. After some light refreshments we headed into the lion enclosure to see if we could spot the five cats they have there. We saw the new lioness and the three sub-adults but not the big daddy lion. He was hiding somewhere. Still, it’s exciting to be a car and not now what you’ll see or where you’ll see it. </div><div align="left"><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034763093566423186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Rd8SW7hGAJI/AAAAAAAAAGM/gxsaIpdQwQg/s400/077_77.JPG" border="0" /> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034773796624925010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Rd8cF7hGAVI/AAAAAAAAAIY/6q_l8jc-qIc/s400/054_54.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034764686999290034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Rd8TzrhGALI/AAAAAAAAAHI/gzMBdjp3U3s/s400/066_66.JPG" border="0" /> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034765524517912770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Rd8UkbhGAMI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/cDljL3Z3z_U/s400/068_68.JPG" border="0" /> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034766297612026066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Rd8VRbhGANI/AAAAAAAAAHY/uKF74GbR8_c/s400/070_70.JPG" border="0" /> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034767289749471458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Rd8WLLhGAOI/AAAAAAAAAHg/1TeSmwUhkrA/s400/087_87.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034768354901360882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Rd8XJLhGAPI/AAAAAAAAAHo/3rxx3AwLnJ4/s400/084_84.JPG" border="0" /><br />So in one day we saw four of The Big Five (rhino, elephant, buffalo, lion and leopard). Not a bad day. On the way back to PE our guide Peter pointed out drug dealers and hiding behind lamp posts we saw prostitutes, Peter describing them as ‘walking AIDS’. It was like we were on safari, albeit a strange city night safari. We gave him a good tip.<br /><br />After PE and the elephants and Mike’s ‘rocking for God’ organised cells we headed up to Coffee Bay, staying at Bomvu Paradise, a very relaxed place where there is tribal drumming every other night. It was a good experience, although we were molested by strong wind and sand on the beach.<br /><br /><div align="left">We made traveller small talk so much it hurt my head. The where have you been how long are you travelling where do you go next questions annoy me greatly. Boring, boring, boring! If you're sitting with someone it's polite to chat to them but if you are only going share someone's life for fifteen minutes why not at least make it interesting? Ask them about the death penalty, gay marriage, peadophiles. Something interesting. I'm guilty of this superficial chatting as well, but try to do it as little as possible in any situation in life.</div><div><br /></div><div align="left">We were at Bomvu for a couple of nights (it could easily have been a week) and bought some of their clothes. On our second and last night we met a guy called Eric who was very drunk and had some kind of shawl over his shoulder. Officially he made drums at the hostel but he told us he was a fortune teller. It is unclear whether he was able to foretell his own unfortunate dismissal the following day for anti-social behaviour. We left Coffee Bay having seen no dolphins, but I promised Laura we would see them at Umzumbe, our next stop.<br /><br /><strong>Treehouses</strong><br /><br />Umzumbe is on the KwaZulu-Natal coastline and is a lesser known hangout. We stopped for two nights at the Mantis and Moon which is my favourite hostel I’ve ever stayed in. As well as the usual things you hope for such being clean, safe, comfortable, friendly helpful staff, pool table – this place had it all. We slept in a treehouse where in the mornings monkeys would come and eat right outside the door, there was a rock pool, a Jacuzzi and a cool bar with poker playing facilities! Add to that it was all set amongst tropical type plants and the (empty-ish) beach was only a few minutes walk away. It was an awesome time. It doesn’t get much better than sipping beers in a Jacuzzi in Africa on a Monday afternoon in February. </div><div><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034771799465132338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Rd8aRrhGATI/AAAAAAAAAII/cEwFsIvX7Z0/s400/098_98.JPG" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034772611213951298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Rd8bA7hGAUI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/MtoIrkECs7k/s400/094_94.JPG" border="0" /> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034774470934790498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Rd8ctLhGAWI/AAAAAAAAAIg/eI5iQoOXFJA/s400/109_109.JPG" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034775282683609458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Rd8dcbhGAXI/AAAAAAAAAIo/itBlsMaBeOo/s400/107_107.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div align="left">One night myself, Laura and a couple, Dean and Jo, played some Texas Hold ‘em. At home I played almost everyday on t'internet, but out here I've only played a few times, once using tree leaves as poker chips. I was relishing the chance to get back amongst the cards. Well, after three hands Laura and Jo were both out and Dean and I played heads-up for the next hour. I thought I had him with a full house, tens and eights, but when we flipped over our cards Dean had exactly the same hand, forcing a split pot! I ended up short stacked and went all-in pre-flop with 7-4 of spades and wasn't surprised to lose to a pair of sixes. That lousy Dean! Afterwards Laura and I played. I won of course, but she has developed a skill at deception that I must remember to be wary of in future.<br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034768878887371010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Rd8XnrhGAQI/AAAAAAAAAHw/8AxxTGtsDyc/s400/104_104.JPG" border="0" /><br />The only downpoint to the Matis and Moon, apart from leaving, was that I got savagely sunburnt. I creamed up, but must have missed a few spots. The sun here in summer is like when Schwarzenegger was up against the alien in Predator and has to cover his body with mud so the creature can’t see him. If some of it comes off, he’s dead. So I have random burns all over. Nasty. Laura didn’t fare well with the mozzies here either. She got some bad bites and they bruised and blistered and got all swollen up. It looked awesome but she wouldn’t let me take a picture. </div><div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034769523132465426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Rd8YNLhGARI/AAAAAAAAAH4/17jQi4JYCZs/s400/105_105.JPG" border="0" /><br /><strong>The heat is on</strong><br /><br />From Umzumbe we moved onto Durban where I assured Laura we would finally see some dolphins.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034770158787625250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Rd8YyLhGASI/AAAAAAAAAIA/RKNG6nQ5ah8/s400/110_110.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div>We were in town for only one night but the temperature had moved up to nearly 40 degrees and Laura wasn’t coping well with the heat. After a spectacular meal at the Ocean Basket earlier in the evening she was sick. A lot. I was briefly panicked thinking it was the seafood, but it turned out it was just the heat and the prawns were as good as they tasted. It was a pity Laura only rented her food. The Sauvignon Blanc was still rough but again, for three quid... etc.<br /><br />And so before we knew it the time to leave was upon us. We caught the SA Roadlink bus up to Jo’burg. Having seen no dolphins in Durban even I was skeptical of seeing any in Johannesburg.<br /><br />Over here buses and plane flights between cities are incredibly cheap but taxis are ridiculously expensive. It cost us 100 Rand each (about seven quid) to bus from Durban to Jo’burg, a journey of seven hours, yet here in Jo’burg a ten minute shuttle to the mall costs the same amount. Madness. It’s because the different bus and domestic plane companies are in competition with each other, driving down prices. I said it cost R100 to bus from Durban to Jo’burg, well it only costs R219 to fly with Mango airways. Incredible.<br /><br />So Laura flew home yesterday and suddenly I am very alone. After spending so much time with someone and then having them leave is a big shock. The leg of the journey with Laura is over. Was a bit quick, but that’s all the time we had. Another two weeks would have been perfect. Still, really enjoyed it. </div><div><br />On our trip we met some people who were travelling on round-the-world type tickets like myself, but were doing the whole south-east Asia thing, then Australia, New Zealand, LA and home. Again, for me this route is a little boring. Wouldn't you like to go somewhere where you tell people where you're going and they raise their eyebrows and look at you like you're a bit strange and ask 'isn't it dangerous?' The further out of the way you get (I'm thinking cramped bus rides in Lesotho and Bolivia here) the more interesting travellers you meet, I think. You don't <em>have</em> to go overland through Burkina Faso, but somewhere a bit more intersting than New Zealand. It's just like the Lake District in Cumbria, you know. And it's got some bad places. Mordor is pretty rough. The coast of South Africa is lovely but very safe, especially if you are travelling on the Baz Bus, I think that's why you get more girls than guys travelling that area. </div><div><br /></div><div align="left">Wow, where did that rambling come from? Ok, I'm off my soapbox now. Asia is undoubtedly beautiful. Go there!<br /><br />I am staying at the Purple Palms lodge in Jo’burg, just hanging out, plotting my next move. I have no money left really so I need to maybe bring my flight forward a little. It’s scheduled for March 14 but that is about three weeks away. Don’t know if I need to be out that much longer. Not sad about that, I‘ve lived the life and now after almost six months I feel too tired out of doing ‘excursions and actities’ but just hanging out makes me feel like I’m drifting, not doing anything constructive. Also it’s quite tiring this traveling lark, I need a holiday. How do people do this for a year or longer? I don’t know. However, I’ve learnt in this game you never know what’s around the corner. So the trip might have a little more steam left in it.<br /><br />Like Sly Stallone said to me, (well he didn’t say it to me as such, it was in Rocky 6) - “it ain’t over till it’s over!</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034776725792620946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Rd8ewbhGAZI/AAAAAAAAAI4/yFjTDyLnm38/s400/036_36.JPG" border="0" /></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><br /><p></p><p></p>.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517861099582946869noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35304733.post-69142160651983211772007-02-08T18:42:00.000+00:002007-02-23T17:37:13.275+00:00Cape Town<strong>I AM in Cape Town awaiting the arrival of my girlfriend Laura, who flies in tomorrow from London Town. Exciting stuff.</strong><br /><br />But not as exciting as the fact that today, for the first time ever, I used a razor to shave rather than my electric shaver, which is officially lost as I hinted at in my last blog.<br /><br />The feel of cold blades pressed against my neck was odd and I had a palpable sensation of anxiety. Very palpable. So much PALP I was almost ABLE to touch it. It's funny when you break down words isn't it?<br /><br />Anyway, shaving with a razor made me feel like a man. I could have gone straight out and killed a chicken, or at the very least purchased one from the local rotisserie.<br /><br />I can now add this shaving experience to the new sensations of altitude sickness and jet-lag which I have experienced on this trip.<br /><br />Yes, I know, it's not exactly Booker-prize winning coming of age/quarter life crisis stuff is it? I should be more interesting. I'm trying. I'm reading classics at the moment. I read <em>The Great Gatsby</em> by F. Scott Fitzgerald, and now I'm onto Dicken's <em>Great Expectations</em> which, if the South Park adaptation is to be believed, climaxes with Miss Havisham fending off Pip and co with robotic monkeys. I can't wait.<br /><br />Actually, I didn't think Gatsby was that great. But The Mediocre Gatsby would be a bit of a hard sell, wouldn't it? Good God, with puns like that I could start work on the Daily Mirror tommorrow.<br /><br />After <em>Great Expectations</em> I move onto <em>Crime and Punishment</em> by the boy Doyvesto-, you know, that Russian bloke. Apparently it's 400-odd sheets of compelling Dan Brown-esque page turning plot perfection.<br /><br />When Laura gets here we'll be in Cape Town for a few days then moving on to Stellenbosch, to hit some wineries and maybe meet up with my friend Nick from Plymouth. And meet his girlfriend.<br /><br />He said she might be too good for him..http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517861099582946869noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35304733.post-72346050086841511442007-02-05T15:59:00.000+00:002007-02-07T13:36:45.275+00:00Back in South Africa<div><div><div><div><div><div><div><em>I return to SA and head south to Cape Town. Along the way I decide to pop into Lesotho, the Kingdom in the Sky...</em><br /></div><strong></strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5028779944525350450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/RcnQt0cKxjI/AAAAAAAAAAM/doeCS4PS2Vg/s320/38490108.JPG" border="0" /><br /><strong>AFTER FIVE years I'm back in the Republic of South Africa. Was a 13 hour flight from Sydney and I watched <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">toooooooooo</span> many in-flight movies including <em>The Queen, The Last King Of Scotland</em> and <em>Scoop</em>. I even got to watch <em>Snakes On A Plane</em>...on a plane! The addition of watching that film in context made it even more super-gripping than ever!</strong><br /><strong></strong><br />So I flew into Johannesburg and it's still dangerous but once again nothing bad happened to me - Andy 1 Law Of Averages 0. I stayed at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">Eastgate</span> Backpackers, which is not the place to stay in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">Joburg. B</span>ut it's only five minutes walk from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">Eastgate</span> Mall, which I have now been to more then any other shopping centre in the world, and that's a fact you can take to the bank, shopping fans. I've even been there more than <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">Meadowhall</span> in Sheffield, and I lived in Sheffield for three years! <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">Incredible</span>.<br /><br />After wondering for a while about where on earth I was going to go now I was back in South Africa, inspiration (from the <em>Lonely Planet</em>) hit me and I was soon on a bus to Bloemfontein, which has only one hostel in town. In fact I'm there now. In fact I've been here before. But I haven't stayed here<em> all</em> this time, I've been in the magical Kingdom of Lesotho, one of Africa's smallest countries. Interestingly it is actually landlocked entirely by one country, in this case South Africa, making it a bit like the Vatican City (except probably less corrupt - is that libelous? I wouldn't know, I get my religious knowledge and history from Dan Brown these days.)<br /><br />We didn't go to Lesotho last time we were here. I forgot my passport which people tell me is actually the number one thing you need when crossing an international border.<br /><br />Lesotho is home to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">Basotho</span> people, and the foundations of the nation were laid by King <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">Moshoeshoe</span> The Great. And he <em>was </em>great, folks, just so you know. He fought the Boers and the Zulus, just like Michael Caine, although history scholars are divided over his quip-ability.<br /><br />They speak Southern <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">Sotho</span> in Lesotho. Sample phrases include 'd<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">umella'</span> (hello), 'la <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">kae'</span> (how are you?), '<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">kea</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">leboha'</span> (thank you) and '<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">sala</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">hantle'</span> (stay well!)<br /><br />So I am fluent in the native language. Practically a local, really. In <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">lesotho</span> transport isn't a double-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">decker</span> cruise liner with meals and movies, it's a cramped minibus which is NEVER full. Why, just yesterday I was the only white person squeezed in with all these Africans, sweating away, 'listening' to house music blaring out the windows and all with some woman's child on my lap. It's the proper African experience! There's a romanticism to it all but a few hours is all I can take I think. Couldn't do a 12 hour stint in one of those.<br /><br />The capital of Lesotho is Maseru, fact fans. It's half the size of Plymouth and feels like a small <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">provincial</span> town. I travelled with a Canadian woman called Marcy and somehow we made it to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">Malealea</span> where they have a famous lodge that's really set up for touring groups and costs double what I usually pay but they have a few backpacker shacks and they let me stay (I now look very scruffy - my hair is even longer and I have a beard growing. I can' find my shaver. It's in my bag somewhere but my bag has started to smell. To solve the problem I have avoided opening my bag.)<br /><br />Anyway in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">Malealea</span> I found peace. The local villagers are friendly and funny. One kid wanted to exchange a pound sterling some tourist had left as a present. So much for sentimentality! I gave him ten <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">Maloti</span> for it (the currency in Lesotho) which is actually much lower than the official exchange of 14.6 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">Maloti</span> to Gordon's pound but he got it for free (the kid I mean, not Gordon) so we're all happy campers. I now have SIX English pounds in my wallet awaiting spending back in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">Blighty</span>. Here that's a slap up meal and some beers, back home I suspect I will be lucky to get a coffee and a copy of Empire.<br /><br />Yes. Peace. In <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">Malealea</span>. Surrounded by <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">mountains</span> (not like the ones in Bolivia) it's really quite a postcard setting. As I mentioned earlier the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">Malealea</span> lodge caters to an older crowd, the average age must have been 45 or even 50. So it was a different crowd than I usually hang out with, but I'm no ageist! It was still an enriching experience. </div><br /><div>And every night the local choir performed (see below) and the Malealea Band performed. They are both very good. </div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5028784063398987426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/RcnUdkcKxqI/AAAAAAAAABE/OpUys_i2l68/s400/38490109.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>You can do hikes and pony treks from the lodge. I paid a kid to take me to the Botsoela waterfall (below) which was a nice scenic walk and a good four hour return trip, but apart from that I did nothing. I sat in the shade drinking Savanna ciders, I played pool in the village with some local kids, I read Dickens under a willow tree in the garden. It was all very quaint and charming. I felt happy and peacefull and relaxed for four days. Then it was back into a packed minibus and back to Maseru and then Bloemfontein. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5028783560887813778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/RcnUAUcKxpI/AAAAAAAAAA8/upBxF4tYPx4/s400/38490112.JPG" border="0" /><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5028782731959125634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/RcnTQEcKxoI/AAAAAAAAAA0/48xHRDemRV0/s400/38490113.JPG" border="0" /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5028782169318409842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/RcnSvUcKxnI/AAAAAAAAAAs/QZdb5E1D5uY/s320/38490114.JPG" border="0" /></span><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"></span><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5028780301007636034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/RcnRCkcKxkI/AAAAAAAAAAU/Bm0Q1n9_ZRU/s320/38490116.JPG" border="0" /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Oh, in Maseru I stayed at the Anglican Church Training Centre (I told you Lesotho wasn't set up for backpackers). I met a nice Korean guy called Lee (below). I thought I should mention him because we both discovered Hunter's cider together. It makes Gaymers and Magners taste like Swamp Donkey.</span> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5028781559433053794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/RcnSL0cKxmI/AAAAAAAAAAk/7GKgxTybyJI/s320/38490119.JPG" border="0" /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"></span><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5028781031152076370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/RcnRtEcKxlI/AAAAAAAAAAc/u8kpMRkHHvU/s320/38490100.JPG" border="0" /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected">It was a nice experience to be in Lesotho. It's a bit off the beaten backpacker track. No hostels, just lodges. Hardly any whiteys, people staring at you in the street or while you're in a minibus. Silly white man, what's he doing here? </span><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"></span><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Courtesys and greetings are very important here. 'Hello's' and 'how are you's' aren't just confined to the sticks. A ten minute walk through Maseru as a stranger can elicit twenty or thirty greetings. Some people even want to stop and chat. I might try it in London. </span><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"></span><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Lesotho is quite poor and AIDS, as in most of southern Africa, is quite a pickle. Many kids you speak to have lost at least one parent, and although you don't pry, it's quite likely due to AIDS. It affect all kinds of people even across different social groups. I don't know what the answer is, but I'm pretty sure it isn't the Teenage Chastity Ban as was inforced by King Mswati III of Swaziland recently. Despite that foolish policy Mswati is one of only three absolute monarchs left in Africa. He answers to no one, wears funk colours AND he has 13 wives! I can't be sure but I'm certain he's a big James Brown fan. You rock King M! </span><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"></span><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected">So I am back in Bloem' and tomorrow I get a (hopefully comfortable) bus to Cape Town. There I kick my heels for a couple of days and then Laura is flying in! Very exciting. Our plan is to travel up the coast and see monkeys and whales and live in treehouses. The treehouses I feel are very important. I can't strees the importance enough of such a house. In a tree. Brilliant!</span><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"></span><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected">I apologise if you feel the blog is boring with not enough pictures. I will remedy this tomorrow hopefully. Bloem must have a photo shop type place to make cd thingys. It's certain, I'm sure. </span><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"></span><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected">I feel very relaxed and happy at the moment. South Africa feels foreign yet familiar at the same time. I don't know if I will properly look up people from the old gap year teaching days or go back to St. Marks College in the Limpopo province. Maybe we should let memories be? Then again, maybe not.</span><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"></span><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Fingers crossed, then, for a safe trip to the Western Cape. </span><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"></span><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Oh, and that was a joke about the Vatican by the way, I don't want one of Pope Benny's assasins after me! Not that they exist. Or do they? Over to Mr. Brown...</span></div></div></div></div></div>.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517861099582946869noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35304733.post-46259930673830984322007-01-27T04:12:00.000+00:002007-02-23T17:40:57.628+00:00A short visit to Australia<span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Hanging out in Sydney, visiting Will in Newcastle and being in the land of Oz for 'Australia Day'...</span><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"><br /><br />I FLEW with LAN from Santiago to Sydney. It was an unremarkable trip. I sat next to a Brazilian called Bruno, who was travelling to Brisbane to study English. The entertainment program was pretty limited. I played 'Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?' seven times but never got above 32,000, damnit! I also watched a film called </span><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Little Miss Sunshine</span><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"> which is very good, really charming and funny.<br /></span><br />My bags were thoroughly searched when I arrived at Sydney International as I was forced to declare a box of Malteasers. After a close inspection it was decided that these wouldn't devastate the ecosystem and I was able to proceed.<br /><br /><div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5028786842242827954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/RcnW_UcKxrI/AAAAAAAAABs/y0v50Xcoiuc/s400/38490088.JPG" border="0" /><br />I've been staying in Sydney at the Harbour City Hostel, which is alright although I'm not keen on one of the fellows at reception. The hostel is full of Swedes and Dutch, some kind of company they fly with makes them stay there. Could be full worse nationalities I suppose.<br /><br />My first day here I was jetlagged like disorientated badger. I realised that 2pm here was about 4am body clock time! But I still managed a walk around Sydney harbour and the Opera House, of course. It's essential. The Opera House looks a bit dirty close up. Still good stuff, though.</div><div><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5028787280329492162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/RcnXY0cKxsI/AAAAAAAAAB0/Q0SZf3j4UIw/s400/38490075.JPG" border="0" /> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5028787851560142546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/RcnX6EcKxtI/AAAAAAAAAB8/DdAW7BgjMNk/s400/38490081.JPG" border="0" /><br />In fact those first two days I did lots of touristy stuff. I went to the Natural History Museum and up the Sydney Tower, which is a bit of a rip off and full of Korean younglings. The Natural History Museum had a great BBC Wildlife Photographer exhibition. It was cool.<br /><br />I've taken it pretty easily on the going out front. Everything here is super expensive compared to South America and I don't want to blow the last of my money on clubs that I could virtually go to back home. We went out one night to a terrible place called 'The Gaff' which was apparently THE PLACE TO BE! on that particular evening. Rubbish. Between 9 and 10 there was free beer, which is pretty cool, but not quite that pleasant. If you want to witness man at his most base level forget concentration camps, terrorism, the butchering of baby seals, look for a bar giving away free beer for a limited amount of time. It's like the end of civilization, people clambering over each other for a drop of the precious golden elixir. God help us if it was actually something you needed, like medicine.<br /><br />Anyway, on this evening while the free beer was (for the time being) flowing, they decided to have a game of strip musical chairs. Lower those eyebrows, for shame! The game consisted of about ten contestents; five guys, five girls. As you know, when the music stops the players find one of the chairs cruelly removed. When you lose though, you're not out, you just have to take off an item of clothing. The guys took to the game with relish. They all got naked pretty quickly. They didn't seem to care if they lost or not. In fact I think there was one naked guy not even in the game. The (sober) girls were a different story. One went down to a bra, but for the most part they just left when the lost a round. If I were single I's say that was dissapointing. Soon I was left staring at a bunch of naked DUDES. Great.<br /><br />Sydney is hot and a little humid. It's a nice city, very modern and everyone speaks English, which is nice. I keep feeling like saying "hola" or "que tal?" whenever I meet someone. I'm sure I said, "gracias" the other day.<br /><br />A few days ago I decided to go and meet Will, an Australian I met in Brazil fishing for piranhas. He lives in Newcastle just a couple of hours up the road. I hopped on a train and soon was having lunch with Will and some friends.<br /><br />Will's family are lovely and they have a very nice, modern house. His 14-year old brother Tom is a typical Aussie lad into his rugby and surfing and such. On my first of two evenings there we had a quiet night, eating barbied salmon steaks, drank some De Bortoli wine we sold at Direct Wines and all watched some <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Australian Celebrity Poker</span> before retiring to bed, which was a comfy double bed. Nice.<br /><br />I was in Newcastle on Australia Day, a celebration of all things Aussie. Well, really just an excuse for a party in the sun. It was bizarre, everyone decked out in Australian colours, sports tops, flags, hats, temporary tattoos, some people even had stickers saying 'fair dinkum' and 'you little beaut'. I don't think I've ever felt like such a gringo! Also, Will was the only 'native' on the continent I knew so the afternoon was a bit difficult, but by the evening I was flying, (we'd started drinking beer at 1pm), talking to random folks on the streets, my veins pumping alcohol and enthusiasm around my body. We went to party we were evicted from on account that we didn't know anyone. Fair dinkum!<br /><br />Some of Will's mates were so Australian think they were on the cusp of being a parody. It was very strange being surrounded by sooooo many Aussies. Too many if you ask me. I usually try and avoid them.<br /><br />Walking back to Will's to change to get into a club we were accompanied by a very attractive girl. Let's call her Brenda. Brenda had previously gotten romantic with Will's brother (not Tom) and was now being pursued by Will! She thinks he doesn't know about her and his brother. He does. As I stumbled drunkenly on ahead carrying a big bottle full of specially mixed coke and vodka they kept hanging back, stealing intimate embraces in the shadows. Naughty!<br /><br />By the time we got to the club we were drunk and tired. We stayed for a bit. I danced to some funky songs, then we grabbed a burger and headed back. It was good we got back early as we were up at 8.30am so we could drive to Sydney so Will and his dad could go to a stag party thing. That's a heavy weekend.<br /><br />So I'm flying to Johannesburg tomorrow. I'd like to do some travelling here but it's a lot more expensive than so much of the rest of the world. You'd have to do some working as you go. Not my usual style. I'm looking forward to South Africa. It's been nearly five years since I've been there. And it's been nearly five months since I last saw Laura.<br /><br />It's good to get reunited. And now here are some arty pictures of Sydney...</div><div> </div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5028788568819680994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/RcnYj0cKxuI/AAAAAAAAACE/NbLBoVupLEk/s400/38490096.JPG" border="0" /></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5028788886647260914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/RcnY2UcKxvI/AAAAAAAAACM/2XahBq8Bd78/s400/38490095.JPG" border="0" />.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517861099582946869noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35304733.post-1169236410637812872007-01-19T19:37:00.000+00:002007-01-22T23:27:32.924+00:00Maps<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/876938/map.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/400/382457/map.jpg" border="0" /></a> Ok, so this is the route I have taken through southern South America. Some of the lines are not completely accurate and are in fact the result of a faulty mouse drawing the lines in Paint. Still, gives a raw feeling to it all, which is fitting, don't you think?<br /><br />The blue line to the left shows my flight to Sydney, although I doubt I'll include a map of Australia as I'll only be there a week.<br /><br />But after that it's South Africa! You can bet I'm gonna be getting in on the map action for that one!.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517861099582946869noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35304733.post-1169234832628639652007-01-19T18:28:00.000+00:002007-02-07T14:00:09.917+00:00The journey to Santiago<em>The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round, round and round...</em><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>OK. THE simplest way is just to say it all. I left Arequipa at 5.15am on a bus bound for Tacna, on the Peru/Chile border. I got there about midday-ish, took a collectivo taxi through the border control with a Chilean naval oficer who had lived in Croyden (so bizarre) and spent the night in a depressing hostel in Arica, which is actually a pretty nice looking city. What followed the next day was a period of my life that I will never get back - a 32-hour bus journey.</strong><br /><br />We left around 11am one day and arrived in Santiago around 6pm the next day. Quite a journey. I slept about 4 hours during the whole time, owing to the crying baby in the seat next to me. Also it was hot. Really hot. The south of Peru and north of Chile is really just a desert, albeit a nitrate rich desert that the two countries and Bolivia fought over during the War of the Pacific (1879-1883).<br /><br />Yes, it was a long trip, my personal best so far, although I know people who have made 40-45 hour bus rides so I shouldn't complain.<br /><br />I finished Elmore Leonard's<em> LaBrava</em>, which was entertaining, and read THE WHOLE of Roddy Doyle's novel <em>A Star Called Henry</em> which is really very good and you should read it. I've never read a whole novel on a bus trip before. Afterwards I felt very special.<br /><br />When you arrive after a journey like that you feel really weird, like you've been spred too thinly over some toast. Or something.<br /><br />But, anyway, I'm now in Santiago, taking it easy at Hostel de Sammy, which is one of my favourite hostels I've stayed at. I've been to see the National Museum of Art but apart from that I really haven't done anything much at all in Santiago. It's not got a good reputation amongst travellers but I like the feel of the place. It's exotic, yet kind of European and familiar. The hostel is near some universities. It feels vibrant. And the other day I stood watching old men play chess in the main square. They finish games in ten minutes - no lie.<br /><br />So I like this place despite not having seen much of it. But with all the trekking, tripping, bussing and fussing it's nice to really relax for a bit. Stay in the same place for a while. It's a good place. They have cereal for breakfast, a real treat.<br /><br />And the weather here is great! Three days of sun and wrath. No rain! Fantastic. It's put me in a good mood. You can't help it, the sun does it to you. It's summer!<br /><br />Charles, the interesting owner of Hostel de Sammy, taught me how to play Chilean pool. It's slightly more complicated than regular pool but I think I like it. You basically arrange all the balls around the table cushions and must pot them in order. You then are awarded the value of that ball. If you knock in a higher value ball after first hitting the current number, you get the value of that ball! But if you foul you lose the points of the ball were trying to hit or the ball you hit instead! Interesting, no? It really rewards people good at setting up or escaping from snookers. At the end you subtract your negative points from your positive ones to get a total, just like with the gold and silver tickets inside the crystal dome on The Crystal Maze! Except in Chilean pool you don't<em> have</em> to wear shell-suits to play. I will teach it to anyone interested when I return.<br /><br />It's a nice crowd at Sammy. I'm mostly hanging with a crowd of Scandi's, Ozzies and English, for which I make no apology. We hang out A LOT in the hostel, playing pool, watching movies and drinking tea (which is free, hurray!) <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5028791437857834786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/RcnbK0cKxyI/AAAAAAAAAC4/aicfPlwAazc/s320/38490069.JPG" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5028790948231563026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/RcnauUcKxxI/AAAAAAAAACw/a047aoKHv9I/s320/38490070.JPG" border="0" /><br />I'm in a (nice) dorm with a Japanese guy called Rich. He can do karate, so I don't wanna get on the wrong side of him. He lives in Los Angeles and has sparred with Dolf Lugdren. Fantastic! He was offered $500 an hour to do some martial arts training for <em>X-Men 3</em>, but said he didn't do it because he didn't have the time. Fool! Below is a picture of me doing the Karate Kid 'crane' move on him. Take that! <div><div><br /><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5028789947504183042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/RcnZ0EcKxwI/AAAAAAAAACo/g59GueKrf0M/s400/38490068.JPG" border="0" /><br />Sadly the X-Box containing the movies is now broken, a tragic day for all but we get by...one day at a time, y'know?<br /><br />Another sad fact is that I've finally cracked after a run in with a rubbish book exchange and am now reading....Dan Brown's <em>The Da Vinci Code</em>! Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! Don't look like that! Don't! I've only just started and it seems fine. It's trashy, obviously. And prosaic. Lacks any kind of interesting character development. And at times it reads like an overly enthusiastic history homework assignment as if Dan is saying "look here, look how much I know about art and history and the geographical locations of Paris. I am clearly very clever."<br /><br />But apart from that I'm sure it'll be great. Maybe even "brilliant!" as it says on the cover. By someone I've never heard of. And never will.<br /><br />Yesterday I went to the Australian Embassy to get a visa. They gave me an Electronic Travel Authority thing, which is the same but no sticker in the passport - boo! Travelling is becoming less fun, soon there will be no stamps, no passports, just eys scans and DNA testing...if Blair gets his way!<br /><br />So today is my last full day in South America. I fly to Sydney for a week's stay tommorrow night at 11.10pm. I'm looking forward to it. I love flying. I like the take-off when you suddenly acelerate to speed and the plane goes chrrrrrrrowwwwwWWWWW...and then you're in the air and it's time for one of my favourite things ever - in flight entertainment! Sometimes I don't want to leave when the plane lands. I should really try to get some sleep and not watch films all night.<br /><br />Where was I? Yes, South America. It's nearly all over. Emotional. Lots of ups, a few downs, pretty much always interesting. Apart from 30-hour bus rides. They are less interesting. But the trip has been very nice. I've learnt a few things. What, I cannot say at the moment. Time and perspective is needed, to analyse, absorb and process these experiences. Yes, it's all about absorbtion.<br /><br />So my next entry should be from Sydney. I've only a week as I can't afford to do a whole trip there and never planned on travelling there as part of this trip. Sfter that it's South Africa again, baby! I hope Mandela doesn't die before I get there else it'll be REALLY depressing.<br /><br />Ok, so this is me signing off for Santiago, Chile and South America. I'm gonna miss the sights, sounds, smells, rain, steaks, colours, canyons, ruins, wines, smiles, buses, llamas, cold showers, language misunderstandings, good hostels, bad hostels...the whole thing. I'll be back hopefully.<br /><br />One day...</div></div>.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517861099582946869noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35304733.post-1169225451659996022007-01-19T16:40:00.000+00:002007-02-07T14:32:37.549+00:00Arequipa and the Colca Canyon<em>Trekking through canyons, eating guinea pig and spying on nuns...</em><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>IT'S BEEN a busy time doing touristy stuff in Arequipa (pronounced a-reh-kee-pa). The trip here was a comfy, uneventful overnight ride from Ica. Arequipa is a nice city, a change of pace a little from Cuzco. You certainly get hassled less. I was here to see a couple of city attractions and do a little excursioning, if in fact that is a word.</strong><br /><br />There's a big famous monastary that's 400 years old that was very nice and yielded some lovely colourful pictures. Different areas are painted their own individual colours and there are flowers and orange trees and it was really lovely and I can feel myself turning into a girl. Urghh! Er, football, war, bbqs, poker, cigars, Sparticus!...right that's better.<br /><br />The Monastary is called Santa Catalina and is made from the rock type 'sillar', if indeed anyone cares about such a thing. I clearly don't, because I'm a ruddy man! For many years rich families in Spain paid doweries so their daughters could go and live there, in relative luxury with servants and such. Basically they lived it up in a fashion they were accustomed to, I think. Then a strict nun, like the old girl from <em>Sister Act,</em> came in and straighted things out.<br /><br />The Monastary first opened up to the public in 1970 and the nuns there now live in a newer part of the complex. The whole site is huge, the siz e of a city block. It even has it's own street names and stuff. It was really interesting and I even spied a few nuns hanging out, looking kinds holy. I did enjoy the experience of walking around. Places like that have a really peaceful, relaxed feel to them, still a bit removed from the outside world. Check out the pictures below. I think they're pretty good.<br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5028794358435596114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Rcnd00cKx1I/AAAAAAAAADk/wVByFT6dy08/s400/38490014.JPG" border="0" /> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5028794976910886754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/RcneY0cKx2I/AAAAAAAAADs/TeuQxnv_6ms/s400/38490015.JPG" border="0" /> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5028795470832125810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Rcne1kcKx3I/AAAAAAAAAD0/PvOsuWPzfy4/s400/38490019.JPG" border="0" /> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5028796123667154818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/RcnfbkcKx4I/AAAAAAAAAD8/1c43ISBCUWQ/s400/38490028.JPG" border="0" /><br />After that I went to the Museum (whose name I momentarily forgot) which is all about Inca sacrifices. They put on a National Geograhic video, give you a tour showing artifacts like clothes, trinkets and even a mummy, frozen in a -20 degree chamber under low light. It's creepy but tastefully done.<br /><br />The Inca's used to offer the purest children as sacrifices to appease the mountain Gods and maintain the blance of nature, thus insuring a good crop harvest. Which is rubbish, obviously, but they believed it. And after young children were chosen they made a journey from the Inca capital, Cuzco, to the highest mountains (about 6,500 metres high!) in order to carry out the sacrifice. It took months to get there. Imagine the dedication. Incredible.<br /><br />Once there, they gave the children a seditive then bashed them over the head with some rock to kill them, which is, ironically, not very bashful. Then they buried the kids in graves with all the other gifts and trinkets. Because of avalanches and the temperature at this altitude (which is a bit nippy) the bodies were frozen and preserved for scientists/gravediggers to discover. Fascinating stuff. They even have the coat type cape thing of one of the mummies, Juanita, that was still covered in blood from where they struck the fatal blow. Scary.<br /><br />Being sacrificed was kind of like an honour, as only the purest and most beautiful children were chosen. It was thought you would go straight up into the heavens and become a god of sorts yourself. If you believed such things, of course. Otherwise I imagine you'd be pretty scared.<br /><br />It is though there are still many sacrificial burial sites out there waiting to be discovered/plundered.<br /><br />So Monastaries and museums were visited in Arequipa and I felt very cultured. The other big thing in/around Arequipa was a three day trek in the Colca Canyon, which is this really big canyon. It's famous too. Our guide was a very interesting guide called Luis. We were also joined by a Dutchman, a Scotch girl, and a couple who were from Austria and Germany. I wish them luck, although alliances between those countries have not suceeded in the past.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5028797012725385106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/RcngPUcKx5I/AAAAAAAAAEE/XHe_zs5Fhm8/s400/38490044.JPG" border="0" /> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5028797845949040546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Rcng_0cKx6I/AAAAAAAAAEM/haRW6Y9Grm0/s320/38490046.JPG" border="0" /><br />Anyway, twas a good group. The main purpose of the trip was to see the small communities that live in the canyon, to see who their lives differ from those in the big cities, etc. The walk down into the canyn took three hours, then a further hour and a half walking to a village along some paths and across a stream, crossing a makeshift bridge built by the villagers. There was a man from the village to meet us with a mule to carry one person, which I thought was a nice touch.<br /><br />So it took us 4-5 hours to get down into the canyon. I noticed that the family we stayed with had a really big fridge in their kitchen. You cannot access the canyon by car. I was confused. Apparently it took the family SIX DAYS to bring the fridge from the nearest big town, Cabanaconde. I think after I few days of carrying that thing i'd be like, "you know what guys, I don't mind if my beer gets warm, let's just leave it."<br /><br />But they didn't leave it, and that evening we enjoyed lovely cold Coca-Cola! Good job!<br /><br />There was a lot of walking on that trip. The company we went with, 'Land Adventures', promised that they 'go the extra mile'. The German guy said, "I fail to see how that is an advantage." Quite.<br /><br />The next day we were up for a pancake breafast at 7am, then we walked to the local museum a lovely woman called Doris had set up. The museum showcased local culture and was really interesting, especially all the examples of natural medicines. It's crazy, they spread melted donkey fat on broken bones and for birth pain they wrap a LIVE snake around the woman's abdomen. Apparently it helps.<br /><br />After the museum, (where Doris let us try cactus fruit which is nice but has lots of seeds in) we walked for a few more hours to a little oasis in the driest part of the canyon where we had a dip in a nice pool and ate Luis' spaghetti.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5028798704942499762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/Rcnhx0cKx7I/AAAAAAAAAEU/3weNcm4XOtc/s320/38490063.JPG" border="0" /><br />We then endured one of the hardest walks I've ever done - 1,200 metres up and out of the canyon. It only took two and a half hours or so but it very nearly killed me. It was so...so steep! And it started raining at three o'clock, as it does every day in the canyon in the wet season. It was an arduous challenge, and I can't say I particularly enjoyed that bit. My legs at times felt like they just wouldn't go anymore! But I did it. I made it. We all made it. The Scotch girl a little behind everyone else.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5028799357777528770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/RcniX0cKx8I/AAAAAAAAAEc/o5d-bF-JwMs/s400/38490062.JPG" border="0" /><br />The next morning we went to see some condors, which are famous for their role in Inca mythology. They are massive creatures and one of only three species of bird that can fly without flapping their wings, avian fans. However, they are also vultures, too slow to catch any prey or anything, so most of the time they sit around waiting for animals/tourists to die so they can eat them. In fact to keep the birds in the canyon, the villagers, still to this day, sacrifice a donkey every month for the condors. Poor donkey, but it's tradition so what can you do?<br /><br />The rest of the trip passed without incident. Luis told us about a quasi-religious novel/spiritual history book he was going to write and we went for a swim in some local hot springs.<br /><br />Back in Arequipa we all went our separate ways. I was staying in Bothy Hostel with Martin the Dutchman. He had an evening bus and I went out for dinner with three guys from New Zealand; Will, Andrew and Peter. We decided that we should try Guinea pig, which is a Peruvian delicacy. After making numerous jokes about what expression the guinea pig might have we were a little shocked to see that the animal was served pretty much intact, with it's head still attached and a full compliment of teeth, ears, eyes and whiskers. Yum!<br /><br />We tucked in. It's nice, slightly sweet and the skin was reminiscent of fried chicken. Not a lot of meat on the bones, though. My guinea looked up at me with what I interpreted as an expression of bewilderment. I enjoyed it, but I don't think I'd go for another one.<br /><br />We left the heads, but kids kept trying to sell us things (gum, chocolate, ciggarettes) so we managed to dispose of the heads by offering them to the working steet children. Friends, they looked at us as if we were mad, as if we were getting rid of the best part of the pig. We even tried bargaining a chocolate bar for the price of a guinea pig head. It was no deal, however.<br /><br />Following dinner we had a drink in a nice bar where I met up with a nice American guy called Matt who I had seen in Loki in Cuzco a week previously. By chance I had passed him in the main square. His friend had had her camera stolen and was upset but these things happen and you just gotta deal with it I guess. I haven't had anything stolen so far (although I have lost my mobile phone) but I think it's just a matter of time before I get something nicked. I might pay someone to rob me, just to get it over with and thus embrace the law of averages on my own terms. </div><div> </div><div>Maybe.</div></div></div></div></div></div></div>.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517861099582946869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35304733.post-1168389464630657862007-01-09T23:40:00.000+00:002007-02-07T14:08:22.944+00:00Huacachina<em>A few hiccups over transport and I find myself in the cute (if slightly smelly) desert oasis of Huacachina.</em><br /><strong></strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5028792842312140594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/RcncckcKxzI/AAAAAAAAADM/XApY01bixVo/s400/38490002.JPG" border="0" /><br /><strong>ONE DAY on my own following my separation from Beat and already I have run into trouble. I caught the 6pm bus from Cuzco intending to get off in the town of Ica. But there was no stop in Ica and I didn't know where it was, and fatally didn't ask anyone. Well, I was tired. It was a long journey and I didn't sleep that much. </strong><br /><strong></strong><br />So I missed Ica and went straight onto Lima, an additional four hours on top of the 15 I was supposed to travel. Lima has a KFC and Pizza Hut, I noticed. But Lima was not where I wanted to be. So I hopped onto another bus and hurtled four hours back down south along the Pacific Ocean. And this time got out at the right time. An uneccessary extra EIGHT hours of travelling spent eventually getting to Ica. Nightmare.<br /><br />But I had nothing elseto do, and besides, I was on Cruz Del Sur, the best bus company in Peru, and perhaps the world (they have their own private terminals!) Security is tight, too. They video you as you get on the bus. For security.<br /><br />On my intended 15 hour trip (or actually 19 hours as we've nowestablished) we watched no less than five movies, which were curiously all English language films dubbed into Spanish and subtitled in English. Confusing. Among our celluloid treats were Robert Redford's enjoyable melodrama <em>An</em> <em>Unfinished Life</em> (which has a bear in it that mauls Morgan Freeman, but by the end of the movie he's ok with it), Al Pacino playing the lovable meat-seeking Jew Shylock in <em>The Merchant Of Venice</em> and Tom Cruise battling his (fictional) alien demons in <em>War Of The Worlds</em>.<br /><br />And hey, it wasn't all bad missing my stop, I got to watch <em>Cheaper By The Dozen. TWO!</em><br /><br />So I arrived in Ica. But I didn't want to go there either! I caught a taxi the 6km to the little desert town of Huacachina (pronounced "whacka-cheena"). Here I've just been chilling out. Reading in a hammock or by the little lagoon. My room is/was a bit of a hole, with ants crawling up the wall and everything, but I just needed somewhere private and quiet to rest. Well, at least it was private.<br /><br />You can go on dune buggies here and sand surf, which of course I have not done. But you can do it. If you want.<br /><br />I have been doing to much travelling in the last few weeks. Too many cities. Stress. Needed to rest. So instead of engaging in adventure I have been reading about it. In particular I refere to <em>Endurance</em>, Sir Ernest Shackleton's ill-fated attempt to cross the whole continent of Antarctica in 1914. He would have been the first. That's why he wanted to do it, obviously.<br /><br />Well, what happened was old Ernie's ship, The Endurance, got stuck in ice and drifted in said ice for months before enduring no more. It was crushed and finally sank. What's an explorer and crew to do in such a predicament? Well, they lived on the ice for ages. And ages. Then they sailed to different islands to try and survive in what you can imagine was not pleasant weather. They lived on seal meat, some kind of dough balls and instant tea and coffee. INSTANT! Needless to say, it was not a jolly holiday. In fact at one point they had to shoot their dogs and eat them which, come to think of it, is probably more horrible than having to drink instant coffee, actually. But no-one died! And it could have been worse. They could have been in the fields of the Somme in France, say. I'd personally rather live on the ice floe!<br /><br />But seriously, they endured an awful lot. It was two full years before they were rescued. Two years! Thankfully now you can go on safer trips to Antarctica and they don't make you kill your own penguins and seals, which I think would put tourists off somewhat.<br /><br />Anyway, Huacachina is nice. But they need to employ some people to clean up litter.It smells of nasty stuff at some points by the Lagoon, distracting me from Shackleton. Photos are needed to fully emphasise the place, but if you 'Google-image it' you might find some nice pictures. Just imagine me there.<br /><br />I am now reading Nabokov's <em>Lolita, </em>which is actually a very good book, surprisingly funny and enjoyable, if it does drag over the second half somewhat.<br /><br />It is now at times like this when I have said everything I meant to say that various important questions come to mind, such as what is my Swiss amigo Beat doing right now? Who will Argyle sign in the transfer window? And what are Tom Hanks best films? With this latter matter I believe there are two schools of thought. Some prefer his earlier light-hearted works such as <em>Turner and Hooch</em>,<em> The Money Pit</em>,<em> Splash</em>, etc. Others prefere altogether 'worthier' fare, such as the Springsteen soundtracked <em>Philadelphia</em>, <em>Forrest Gump</em> or <em>Road to Perdition</em>. In my opinion Mr Hank's best films are probably <em>Big</em>, a coming-of-age comedy, and <em>Saving Private Ryan</em>, an, if you will, coming-of-death drama.<br /><br />And that is all I have to say about that, to quote Mr Gump. Tonight I'm bussing to Arequipa, 10-12 hours south of here.<br /><br />Goodbye.<br /><strong></strong><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5028793589636450114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_WnTZtYtVJD4/RcndIEcKx0I/AAAAAAAAADU/hiPae_NOqOM/s400/38490006.JPG" border="0" /><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong></strong>.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517861099582946869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35304733.post-1167943612671892052007-01-04T19:56:00.000+00:002007-01-05T19:45:01.213+00:00Macchupicchu and The Sacred Valley<em>At long last Beat and I get around to visiting THE sight of South America. Along the way we see a few other bunches of rocks and get annoyed with a tour guide called Reuben.</em><br /><br /><strong>GUIDES. I really hate them. Guided tours too. You feel like such an idiot and almost always realise you could have done things yourself. I feel this way because of one man; Reuben. We booked a two-day trip around some sights in the 'Sacred Valley' featuring many different Inca sites, and finishing with Macchupicchu.</strong><br /><br />Don't get me wrong, I do lot's of indie travelling too, but for ease we decided to take up a tour offer this time.<br /><br />First of all the tour was an hour late kicking off, and Reuben kept rushing us around. "You can have 20 minutes at this market." Twenty minutes! Around a market that you could have killed an afternoon in. Estupido.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/834194/100_2071.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/648970/100_2071.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Just above Cuzco we drove past a site called <strong>Sacsayhuaman</strong>, which means 'satisfied falcon' in Quechua. But when pronounced it sounds fantastically like 'Sexy Woman'! Ironically, no women sexy or otherwise would have lived there as it was an Inca fortress housing up to 5,000 warriors. We didn't stop.<br /><br />The trip was worth it, but in spite of the guide rather than because of him. We visited the Inca ruins at the sites of <strong>Pisac </strong>(left) and Ollantaytambo, both which were very cool, but it was too crowded going at tourist o'clock. It was just...argghhh. Stupid tours. Ten minutes later lots of tourists dissapear, you can get good pictures, but by then 'Reuban Group' has moved on. It's quite frustrating.<br /><br />Pisac is known for it's many terraces which the Incas used for agriculture, keeping them in full supply of corn and other foodstuffs. There's also evidence of living quarters, temples, sanitation and a water supply. At one site there is a circular ampitheatre type land structure, where apparently on each level crops had their own micro-climate. Clever people. As we ascended the path a delicate-looking child in traditional clothes played haunting pan-pipe music of the Andes to earn some pocket money. He needed practise. Lots.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/474069/100_2078.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/877322/100_2078.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><strong>Ollantaytambo</strong> (right & below) was a fortress and spiritual centre for the Incas. It sits high above a market town and was one of the only places where the Incas won a battle against the Spanish, firing down arrows, stones and (maybe) potatoes to thwart the advancing cavalry. Would have been fun to watch. Apart from all the death.<br /><br />But then the Spanairds came back with more men and this time won - boo, forcing the last Inca king Manco Inca to retreat to the jungle in Vilcabamba. The Spanairds tracked him down and killed him 8 years later. I've really got into the Inca history, especially the decline, which is the most interesting bit of any society. Just look at Hitler. When I get back I'm definately going to get a big book. A glossy one full of pictures. Of the Incas, not Hitler.<br /><br />Reuben rushed us round the site slicing our way through hordes of tourists, telling us how heavy all the stones were. He was an expert on the weight of stones and the altitude. Everywhere we went, he knew if it was 2, 897m or 3, 356m above sea level or if a stone weighed 15 or 25 tonnes. Of course he could have been making it up, we wouldn't know.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/70146/100_2077.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/254638/100_2077.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />But he didn't tell us enough of the context of the places. He didn't set the scene, put us in their place. I'm a man - I want to know about BATTLES and WAR. Rubbish Reuben.<br /><br />Opposite the Ollantaytambo site is an Inca prison. I'd like to go to Inca prison.<br /><br />We then hung around for a few hours and caught the train to Aguas Calientes, a town deep down in the mountains and a sort of base camp for excursions to Macchupicchu. I felt a bit like Michael Palin. Trains are definately more comfortable than buses. Less bus, less fuss. Good slogan.<br /><br />Agauas Calientes is quite petite and probably wouldn't be there if it wasn't for the ruins above. We stayed the night in Inkatambo hotel - everything there is called 'Inka-something' - and the next day got up at 5am to get up to the ruins early. After a half-hour bus ride we were in the ruins by 6.30am after paying a fairly extortionate price of $38 to get in. Well it <em>is</em> Macchupicchu. And we were there! Great, except one problem - it was so misty you couldn't see anything. And it was raining. In fact it was the worst weather possible!<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/682255/100_2094.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/234038/100_2094.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Things cleared but never enough for a good chance to get the classic Macchupicchu shot (right) overlooking the site with the towering Huayna Picchu in the background. Shame. Still, looks pretty cool.<br /><br />We ditched our large tour group early on as the thought of following a grown woman waving a purple flag shouting "Ana Celia's group!" was just too much after Reuben the day before.<br /><br />Finally we had what the Scottish wanted in 1147 - freedom. We wandered around in the rain exploring the nooks and crannies of the site on our own, although armed with a guide book. And if you want toknow more just hang around untill a tour group arrives and listen to the guide. It's a bunch of rocks of course, nothing happens. But probably it's the best bunch of rocks there is. The thing that makes the site so good is that it is so complete. Throw a roof on most of the houses and people could just move back in.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/630468/100_2116.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/650404/100_2116.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />It is thought that the city was abandoned and never discovered by the Spanish. There is no mention of it in Inca history or Spanish journals. So it lay forgotten by everyone bar a few Quechuas untill an American called Hiram Bingham (his name is everywhere) found it in 1911, thinking it to be the site of Vilcabamba which I mentioned earlier. So just like Chris Colombus, a lost explorer got lucky and hit the jackpot.<br /><br />A bit like Stonehenge, no-one really knows what Macchupicchu was all about. Spiritual centre? Royal retreat? A last ditch attempt to preserve the culture and hide from the Spanish? Some believe the site was abandoned before the Spanish arrived and others that it was a even pre-Inca society. So far no-one thinks it was an alien landing site. Yet.<br /><br />But with the impressive stonework and layout of the site it must have been very important and would have looked really awesome in it's day. On both sides it has spectacular views down into the Urabamba valley. Along the edges of the site are many steeped terraces which were used for agriculture. Along with animals like sheep, llamas and alpacas, the people who lived here would have been virtually self-sufficient. Which begs the question; if they were never discovered by the Spanish, why did the people of Macchupichu abandon the city?<br />I suppose we'll never know. Macchupicchu has been called 'The Lost City of The Incas'. From the HUGE amounts of people that really begin to arrive from about 10am onwards, you can be absolutely certain it's been found. Soon the site gets quite crowded in most of the good viewing points and it's almost impossible to take a photo whithout another person in it.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/665407/100_2139.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/451490/100_2139.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />So later in the morning Beat and I went for a walk along the steep narrow path to see the cliff-hugging Inca bridge (right), which you can no longer cross owing to the fact that it is too perilous, a fact supported by the fate of the last person who tried to walk across it. Which was death.<br /><br />About midday we decided we had been in the 'lost' city long enough and headed down the mountain. I think 5 or 6 hours is enough to spend at any archeological site (unless you are an archeologist, in which case I recommend staying longer). People were heading back in and the day cleared to be bright and sunny in the afternoon, but we were halfway down the mountain and couldn't be bothered to go back to take one or two better photos.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/187574/100_2155.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/366128/100_2155.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />In fact on the walk down we took some lovely photos of the Urubamba valley (left).<br /><br />We visited the town's hot springs, which were exceedingly hot, and stayed the night in Aguas Calientes before heading back early this morning (5.45am!) to Cuzco via train (Palin again) and taxi.<br /><br />I am now back at Loki and am wondering where to go. To Pisco, home of pisco? But I don't like pisco. Do I? Or I could go to Arequipa. I just don't know. I need to relax. Think. Maybe get a massage.<br /><br />Anyway, Macchupicchu was good, I enjoyed it. People say it's a must but if you have zero interest in ruins and history it's an expensive trip up a hill. Beat was less impressed than I. He gave it "5 or 6 out of 10." I don't know how he arrived at thatrating but he's from the contintent so I don't always understand him.<br /><br />Anyway, now I have to go as we bought a copy of Rocky VI (that's six) from the market and we need to watch it.<br /><br />Rocky's out of retirement for one last fight. Probably against arthritis..http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517861099582946869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35304733.post-1167940526983294232007-01-04T19:16:00.000+00:002007-01-05T19:59:12.810+00:00New Year's Eve in Cuzco<em>The New Year's festivities are spent in one of the tourist hotspot of South America...</em><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>PARTY HOSTELS are pretty hit-and-miss. 'Loki' is definately a party hostel and as such is full of a LOT of people that ordinarily I wouldn't rub shoulders with. It has a lot of folks that are a little too cool for school to be honest, and as such a lot of people aren't the friendliest. Reminds me of being in a pretentious club back home. Thankfully Loki is HUGE and well over 150 people were around for new year's eve, so lot's of nice people to chat to as well.</strong><br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/1628/100_2052.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/143070/100_2052.jpg" border="0" /></a>I spent most of the evening with an English brother and sister combo called Henry and Amber. I met them on the island hopping trip on Lake Titicaca. Nice people. Beat was preoccupied, having met up with a Peruvian woman that he had been 'communicating' with for several months over the internet. They are now very much in love and are going to marry and have loads of Inca children. Probably. She is called Maribel and lives in Lima. She flew all the way to Cuzco for new year, just to see him. Pretty desperate if you ask me. Still, true love, eh? It's marvilous.<br /><br />The new year's eve party was held in the hostel. Full to the brim like brimful of asha, the party rocked untill about 11.30, when everyone dissapeared to the main city centre Plaza to celebrate the arrival of 2007. It was slightly confusing as there was no definable countdown. Instead, around 12-ish everyone just decided it was pretty much new year and started throwing fireworks at each other. It was madness, so dangerous. Explosions everywhere. Memories of 'Nam started flooding back, which was weird because I've never been. Not even on holiday. I blame the movies for these quasi-PTSD feelings. Damn you messers Stone and Ford Coppola!<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/432816/100_2053.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/325/100_2053.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />After the 'celebrations' we headed back to the hostel where drinking and chatting was engaged in untill I felt it was my bedtime around half past three, having had my fun and feeling plum tuckered. I haven't actually been feeling too brillant recently. The stomach again. Still, 3.30 is a reasonable time to retire, right? I really need a holiday to get better. Recharge. Buses, hostels, excursions, different cultures, languages; these things are all very stressful. I need a break. I don't know where I'll go but it must be private and quiet.<br /><br />And I'd like cable TV. Actually it's essential.<br /><br />Speaking of entertainment, on the book front I recently read <em>Leviathan</em> by Paul Auster, whose imagination is so vast his main character is A WRITER CALLED PAUL <em>AARON</em>. Way to go Auster. Also I read <em>Indecision</em> by Benjamin Kunkel. It's a '28-year old coming of age' type thing. Very enjoyable. The main character is not called Benajamin, but Dwight. See, it's called FICTION Auster!<br /><br />I now have a strange mixed bag of books to read; <em>Lolita</em>, <em>The Best Detective Stories of Agatha Christie</em>, and <em>Endurance: The True Incredible Adventure</em> (which is the story of Ernest Shackleton's heroic trip across Antarctica. I'm actually quite looking forward to it. In fact I may read it first!).<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/931672/100_2164.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/64610/100_2164.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Hmmm, what about something cultural...let's see, Cuzco was the capital of the Inca empire, which stretched, well, all over the shop. Now it's a party/tourist city where everyone is trying to sell you something; "Bus tickets?...Machupicchu Tour?...Marijuana?..." Everything is for sale. EVERYTHING.<br /><br />Cuzco (right) has some nice Inca walls and restaurants and stuff. It's a South American tourist hotspot and prices reflect that. The competition between bars is so fierce that it's happy hour almost every hour. Some places offer 3 or even 4 drinks for the price of one to get you in. Incredible.<br /><br />It's a strange city. I don't know if I like it. Sometimes I just want people to leave me alone and not try to sell me a tour or massage or anything. It's annoying.<br /><br />Anyway, that's the end of this entry. Bye..http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517861099582946869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35304733.post-1167606947598384012006-12-31T22:08:00.000+00:002007-01-10T00:51:06.616+00:00Puno and the 'floating islands'<em>After an unexpected and prolonged stay in Bolivia, Beat and I move on along the shore of Lake Titicaca to Peru.</em><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>WE HAD no problems crossing the border into Peru. In fact if we hadn't stopped at the border I would never have even noticed. The idegenious peoples of Peru and Bolivia are very similar you see. The main difference is that things are much more expensive in Peru. It's 6 Soles to the pound, rather than 15 Bolivivanos. Outrageous. I'm going to have to think very seriously about spending now. People say something costs 2 soles, and I think that's really cheap, like 2 Bs, but it's not! It's 30p!</strong><br /><br />We were sad to say goodbye to Bolivia. It had been home for over 5 weeks. Such a fascinating country with the most amazing differences in landscapes and natural beauty and very friendly, colourful and humble people. Of course many try to seize the opportunity to rip you off, but on the whole they are very nice and helpful. It's a country rich in the currency of culture, but sadly poor in the actual currency of money. I hope some day this turns around and that if I ever return there will be less poverty begging and desparation in the streets of all the cities.<br /><br />But, anyway, I'm in PERU now. The biggest soft drink here is not Coca-Cola but 'Inca Kola', a local traditional soft drink since 1935. It's a fizzy yellow concoction that tastes of bubblegum. It would sell by the freight-load back home if marketed to kids, but it's been bought by Coca-Cola and they won't export it lest it becomes rival to it's main product. So you have to come here to drink it, unless I'm really resourceful and send some home. But let's face it, that won't happen.<br /><br />We arrived into Puno and stayed in a very weird place called Hostal Europa, which was incredibly recommended in the usually useful <em>Lonely Planet.</em> The theme of the hostal is supposed to be EUROPE, but over the map of Europe hangs flags of USA, Argentina and Brazil. Are Brazil in the E.U.? Also there was a big picture of Los Angeles on the second floor. Crazy.<br /><br />Basically the place was a hole. A Rat-hole as Beat likes to say. We never even properly checked in, and the woman behind the reception was breastfeeding when we arrived. We got the top floor room in a construction site and the floors were wet. Great. I hate staying in these hostals which are little more than rubbish hotels, not 'hostels' at all.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/63360/100_2038.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/901309/100_2038.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />But Puno (which is also a pretty rubbish place) was just a stepping stone for a trip to the famous floating islands of the <strong>Uros</strong> (left). There are about 40 different floating islands on Lake Titicaca made out of reeds that grow up out of the water. The people there eat the reeds as well. It was strange walking on the islands. They really do float and as you step on the reeds sometimes water seems up. They have to constanly replace the reeds as they rot away. The people on the island have lived there for hundreds of years, originally as a way of escaping from the aggressive Incas, who presumably couldn't build boats.<br /><br />The people of the Uros <em>can</em> build boats (below), great big reed boats with puma heads on the front. It takes 7 men a month to build a boat big enough to sail 30-40 people, stat fans.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/593786/100_2036.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/928078/100_2036.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />The islands themselves were, I have to say, not what I'd expected. Although the experience was interesting to witness these islands and to get a grip on how the people lived, the whole thing has become shockingly over-touristic to the point where it was a bit disapointing. Almost all the people on the islands have stalls trying to sell you things like cloths and models for a not-very-cheap-price. They almost harass you to buy stuff. I'd rather have paid more for the priviledge of coming onto the island and seeing them live their lives rather than the kind of over commercialisation that we found. There are some islands, we where told, that don't allow tourists on. Good for them.<br /><br />After that we stayed the night on the island of <strong>Amantani</strong>, which was a more orthodox island of 5,000 inhabitants that did not float. Just to clarify, it is the island that didn't float, I imagine most of the inhabitants would float, although I didn't empirically test this hypothesis.<br /><br />We were put into groups of 2-4 people and assigned a family to stay with, who made us lunch, dinner and breakfast. Very friendly people. They only spoke Quechua, a local language, and a bit of Spanish which made conversation a little difficult, but we had a beer with them and had a nice chat. Our host mother spoke no Spanish so drank very quickly. Not a cheap date.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/785660/100_2047.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/154676/100_2047.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />In our group (left)was myself, Beat, a Japanese guy called something like Mokita, and a guy from London called Nick. But the thing was, Nick had family in the south-west...and was a Plymouth Argyle fan! As if to prove it he had a blue Argyle t-shirt with the club crest on! Fantastic. I'd almost given up on discussing the shortcomings of Nick Chadwick while in South America. I tried with a Brazilian once but he just replied, ironically, "Who? Maradonna?" I said, "No, Nick Chadwick." He said, "I don't know this Neil Chadweh, I know Maradonna. Good player. Too many drugs." And that was that.<br /><br />In the evening on the island we were made to dress in local dress (for men wool ponchos and silly hats were the fashion) and dance with the locals. It was cringeworthily touristic, if that is in fact a real phrase, but quite fun. I mastered the basic if slightly repetitive dance moves quickly and blended into the local scene.<br /><br />The next day we headed to the island of <strong>Tequile, </strong>where the people speak only Aymara, another local language. Interestingly, there the man must learn to sew or he cannot get a wife. He must knit her 20 skirts or something before marriage. Also, the men wear funny hats that indicate they are single, kind like at a traffic light party in a student union.<br /><br />On the way to the island, we were struck by bad seas. The boat was tossing around like a boat in bad seas. Now, I haven't got a good stomach for these things, but I managed to keep my breakfast down. The same could not be said of some other passengers. One girl went outside straight away, another had to be carried out. A French woman of about 60 threw up on herslf inside the boat! One by one we were dropping like flies. People even threw up after they got off the boat. It was a proper horror show.<br /><br />On the way back to Puno I asked Bruno if I could drive the boat. The driver was on deck having his lunch. Bruno shrugged and said, "ok." He sat down, put on his headphones and closed his eyes. So I drove the boat for ten minutes, which must conflict with some kind of insurance policies or SOMETHING. It was a good ten minutes. Then we got too close to another boat and the driver came back in to take over. But he was a rubbish driver. He kept falling asleep. <br /><br />After the tour we were signed off by our enigmatic guide Bruno; "My friends, for two days we have been friends, you have asked me lots of questions. Now the tour is over and we are not friends." Quite.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/785891/100_2041.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/754188/100_2041.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />We stayed another day in the rat-hole of Hostal Europa in Puno. Just in case you ever go there is a good bar called something like 'Kamazariky' in Puno. Apart from that, hop around the islands and then get the hell out.<br /><br />In our case we have headed to Cuzco, the former capital of the Inca Empire and now the biggest tourist city in South America after Rio, possibly. We are ther for the new year and then we will head out to see some sights in the 'Sacred Valley' and possibly even Macchupicchu, the BIGGEST sight in South America.<br /><br />Happy New Year! The picture above is me and Nick with our host 'father' on Amantani. He looks happy..http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517861099582946869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35304733.post-1167600578011146762006-12-31T21:15:00.000+00:002007-01-05T20:56:42.530+00:00Copacabana and Isla Del Sol<em>Festivities take place in the small town of Copacabana, which shares it's name with that beach in Rio de Janeiro.</em><br /><strong></strong><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/121773/100_1978.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/939049/100_1978.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><strong>I SPENT Christmas in the small town of Copacabana on the shores of Lake Titicaca in Bolivia. We were actually in a hostal overlooking the lake. Some great sunsets (left). Titicaca means 'grey puma' in the local language. Bolivians crudely claim that out of the grand shared lake, they got the 'Titi' and Peru got the 'caca', which means, well, you can guess what it means. Copacabana is nothing special, but a nice quiet place, a good change from La Paz. But before all that, Beat and I headed to Isla del Sol, or 'Island of the Sun' for four days to check out the place and look at some piles of rocks.</strong><br /><strong></strong><br />The Incas believed that the first Inca, and also the very sun, moon and stars were born on the island, out of Titicaca Rock (sort of right and below-ish). That's this rock that looks (alledgedly) like a puma, and all these things emerged mysteriously out of it's mouth. Science seems to refute this creationism, but it makes for some very interesting mythology.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/467096/100_1964.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/53934/100_1964.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />The Incas had a big thing for pumas. In their society (around 1100 - 1550 AD, history fans) the main animals in their mythology were snakes, representing the underworld, pumas representing this world, and condors representing the world above. How clever am I? I could be a professor of mysterious old stuff.<br /><br />Titicaca Rock is set on a very scenic part of the island. This place must have held a great deal of importance for the Incas. It's a beautiful spot. You can camp on most nice spots on the island for free in fact, or stay in a hostel for little over a quid (as we did. In fact just to mention we stayed in Templo Del Sol Hostel which was run down, but had character. There we met many Germans, one of whom was a priest who had been travelling for 3 years and slapped a bus driver who mistreated his luggage. Incredible. You meet really interesting people travelling).<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/761482/100_1957.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/7777/100_1957.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Opposite the 'puma' mouth is the sacrificial stone table where the Incas killed Llamas, and hopefully also people, in honour of the God's. It's a nice structure, very interesting and is also a great picnic table. It reminded me of the death of Aslan in<em> The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe</em>. Very sad. But he came back to life! Just like Jesus. Strange...<br /><br />Down from this place are the main ruins, Chincana (below), I believe they are called. Very impressive. We were alone so we had a nice chance to explore all the nooks and crannies and to really feel the vibe of the place. The rooms, windows and doorways are all still well preserved and laid out. Cool. It was really sunny too, which suits the name of the island. Lots of these ruins have waaaaay too many tourists around so if you get a chance to walk around them on your own it's nice. Beat had to go to the toilet , but we couldn't find the appropriate room so he went outside the ruins.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/70701/100_1940.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/756399/100_1940.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />The exact purpose of these ruins is unknown (to us at least), but I believe it may have been some kind of Inca King holiday home. In fact close inspection of the earth on the ground of the ruins indicated the Incas seemed to wear size 8-10 Merrell walking boots. What an advanced society! I await a better theory from historians. Come on Robinson, get your Time Team together and tell me.<br /><br />Their are some less impressive ruins on the south of the island but we had fun playing with some children, games of 'hide-and-seek' and so forth. The children here are much cuter and quieter than kids back home. I've decided I'm going to adopt an Inca child when I get back and call it something that means 'Sun Child' in an indigenious language. (A South American indegenious language, of course, not English. I don't know what 'Sun Child' is in Cornish).<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/819969/100_1931.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/894538/100_1931.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />The best bit of the island was walking around. True, carrying 25 kilos up a hill at 4,000 metres nearly gave me a heart attack, but it only takes 4 or 5 hours to walk the entire length of the island, with a smaller 'day' bag. Much walking on this trip, there is.<br /><br />Life on the island is very different to the mainland. Less poverty, no begging, although everytime you go past some kids with a donkey or llama they instinctively adjust into a tourist friendly pose in front of it. They know exactly what you want. Then after you take the picture they run up to you shouting "pagar mi, pagar mi," ("pay me"). A fun game is to take a picture from reasonably far away, then run away from them. They can't leave their sheep so, haha, I win!<br /><br />But in all seriousness I really liked the island and it was a definate highlight to the trip. Things are what you make of them and we had a really good time walking around and seeing stuff.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/282725/100_1990.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/622211/100_1990.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />For Christmas I had a rubbish beef type thing in an apparently wizard themed restaurant in Copacabana, where we were waited on by a child. Children do a lot of waiting tables and general working in Bolivia. Bizarre. Children bringing and opening beers for you is an experience I can't imagine much happening in England. Beat had a squashed hamburger. He was very upset.<br /><br />There are lots of hippies in Copacabana, selling all manner of nick-nacks and trinkits. Not my thing, really, although girls may be interested.<br /><br />Apart from that what is there to say? We stayed in Copacabana in Hostal Leyenda, with a nice view over the lake where you can get nice shots of the sunset. We climbed up the hill next to the town to see sunset one day but it was a non-event. At least we had wine and cake to enjoy the mood of the late afternoon, and there were some good photo-ops..http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517861099582946869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35304733.post-1166457023422402762006-12-18T15:07:00.000+00:002006-12-31T23:28:05.806+00:00La Paz<div align="left"><em>Interesting days in the Bolivian capital as Beat and I visit the city's Coca Museum and risk our very lives on The World's Most Dangerous Road...</em> </div><div align="left"><br /></div><em></em><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/400/88654/DSC00610.jpg" border="0" /><br /><strong>LA PAZ, like a drawing by a third-set art student, is nothing special to look at. It's noisey, crowded and polluted. In short, not one of my favourite cities ever. It's also at 3,600m above sea level and is kind of built on a long slope, making walking any distance uphill a real effort. The place is kind of like one big market with stalls everywhere and of course the usual people begging and the like. If someone, child or adult, offers you some chewing gum or chocolate it makes sense to help them out and buy it even if you don't want it. At least they are working and not asking for money flat out for nothing. </strong><br /><strong></strong><br />But it does have some good things going for it. First up was the Coca Museum, which is actually my favourite museum I've visited while I've been in South America. It was small and pokey but had loads of information and photos and models and stuff.<br /><strong></strong><br />The museum takes you from the ancient societies of South America that chewed the coca leaf to colonialisation, where coca leaves are grown, how they affect you, how they are used, chewing technique and cocaine processing and drug addiction. All fascinating. To chew you roll some leaves into a ball and stuff them in the corner of your mouth. After 10 or 15 minutes the leaves soften and the alkaloid properties are released and you swallow the resulting juice. They taste foul, of course, but the desired affect is worth the displeasure. Coca leaves were, and still are, an integral part of the societies that live in this region of (mainly) Ecuador, Peru and Bolivia.<br /><br />Coca is used to cope with the high altitudes endured by the Andean people living in the mountains. There is simply less air up there (here) and chewing the leaf desensitizes you to altitude, pain, hard work, hunger, thirst, tiredness. In other words it was used extensively by the Spanish to work the natives to death. Horrible.<br /><br />Even today miners in the silver city of Potosi won't go into the mines without coca and spend about 12% of their yearly income on the leaves!<br /><br />The place really interested me. The more recent history of cocaine being used as an anesthetic, pain killer and even soft drink was fascinating. Coca-Cola was invented by a pharmacist in 1886 and contained caffiene and cocaine untill about 1912 or 1914. Imagine the buzz that would give you! Apparently Coca-Cola still use tons of coca leaves to flavour the drink. The 'cola' bit comes from the cola nut of Ghana, if I remember rightly. In the museum there were cool adverts and posters advertising 'Kokaine' when it was still legal, as a substance to smoke or as a remedy for toothache! Fantastic.<br /><br />But the really interesting aspect of the last few days was our trip on the World's Most Dangerous Road, or 'The Death Road' as it's also known.<br /><br />First, some facts. The Death Road is the teacherous pass between La Paz north to Coroico. It descends from 4,700m to 1,200m in just a length of 83 km of road. That's a drop in altitude of 3,500m! So you go from the snowy ice capped mountains down to humid tropics in just a few hours. Incredible.<br /><br />It's called 'The Death Road' due to the number of accidents every year. Annually, 26 vehicles plunge over the edge of the road into the abyss on average, killing between 200-300 people. The reason for this is usualy bad/drunk drivers, terrible visability and weather conditions making the road unstable. Also, at points the road is only THREE METRES wide with no barriers, and drops of over 1,000 metres! It's really quite dramatic.<br /><p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/400/495785/PICT0063.jpg" border="0" /><br />Now I know what you're thinking, this sounds kind of dangerous right? In addition to the countless vehicles that sucumb to the perils of the road every year, 9 bikers have died cycling the pass. But riding the Death Road is actually one of the biggest tourist attractions in Bolivia, and there are many different companies that offer the trip. The biggest and 'safest' companies, such as Gravity, charge about 65-75 US Dollars. Gravity in fact took out their last group on 9th December, as they state as their professional opinion that during the wet season (December-February) it is TOO DANGEROUS to take people down the road. Rubbish! Our company, El Solario, charged 35 US Dollars and said they go out all year round, rain or shine. Rock on!<br /><br />And we found them to be a very good company indeed; safe, organised, friendly. The day we went out was bright and clear. Perfect. We were a group of 6 with me and Beat joined by two more Swiss, two Ozzies, our guide Christoph and driver Alberto, who has to drive The Death Road everyday. Lucky him. Beat was happy as he coud speak Swiss-German all day.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/613710/DSC00591.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/343705/DSC00591.jpg" border="0" /></a>I was a little nervous before starting off. I'm no adventurer, I don't even like going on the fast rides at theme parks. This was one hell of a ride, however. The first part of the road is all (icey) asphalt but really pretty safe. It's only when you descend down into the foresty areas you can see the dangers of driving the road in poor conditions. You ride through waterfalls along gravelly, stoney surfaces. While all this is quite fun, the pinch of reality hits when you see literally loads of crosses marking places where vehicles have fallen away over the side. Occasional tires and pieces of metal come into view just below the edges of the road.</p><p>I, of course, suffer badly from vertigo. But riding takes alot of concentration. Although we stopped every so often, there's no time to caually observe the various drops beyond the road in front.<br /><br />It took about 4-5 hours cycling from start to finish. The road is virtually all downhill, the few km uphill were a killer at that altitude. I was by far the slowest member of our group on the actual dangerous bits of the road, but it's not a race! You just have to go at you own pace. Rather that than end up a statistic.<br /></p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/400/704589/PICT0064.jpg" border="0" /><br />The trip is advertised on the danger/adrenaline aspect but we found that the most enjoyable aspect of the day was the amazing scenery and the way you plummet from Andean cold climate, wearing jackets, gloves and trousers to the humid valleys wearing t-shirt and shorts and getting bitten by damn mosquitoes.<br /><br />After the last leg of the trip we all enjoyed one of the best cold beers I've ever had. I was sweating and sore and had really had my fun by that point. Any further and the experience would have been pure endurance.<br /><br />We then had a nice lunch and Alberto drove us back up the death road to La Paz, which was more nerve-wracking than cycling down as you have no control. I did NOT sit on the side of the mini-bus which overlooked the precipice. No way. When we hit asphalt again I breathed a huge sigh of relief.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/319107/DSC00612.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/655172/DSC00612.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Although the road seems dangerous it's relatively safe to cycle. People who get hurt push their limits too far. Same goes for the drivers that fall victim to the road. You have to know what you're comfortable with and stick to that!<br /><br />Of course after every such 'adventure' excursion you get a free 'I biked/survived the blah blah blah...' t-shirt. The one from El Solario was particularly bad. I don't get the sizes over here. I just got an 'Inca Kola' t-shirt that's a medium and it's bigger than my Death Road T that's an XL. "Go Figure," as our friends from the colonies would say.<br /><br />They have actually just opened the new 'safe' road from La Paz to Coroico so the traffic taking on the Death Road will drop dramatically. Only buses and cars for people who live in houses and villages along the pass will still be using the road. Along with thrill-seeking tourists of course. But the number of deaths on the road will virtually drop to zero, which will actually be <em>bad</em> for business for biking companies. It's a funny old world.<br /><br />So I am safe and sound in La Paz. I'm staying at The Adventure Brew Hostel. It's quite good; comfy, nice building, internet, dvds, book swap and they make their own 7% beer which is really quite nice, especially at 6 Bolivianos (40p) a go.<br /><br />Yesterday Beat and I went for an excellent but extortioate Japanese lunch. We had fantastic sushi with soup and vegtables and other bits and bobs. However, the wine we ordered was not 40Bs but 120! Back home 8 quid for a bottle of wine in a restaurant is fine but here it makes your head spin. Still, it's nice to live like a king on the money of a pauper.<br /><br />Tomorrow we head to Copacabana and the Isla Del Sol, where the Incas believed people were created by the Sun Gods, or something. We'll find out more later. Hopefully we'll be on the island for a few days then spend Christmas at a nice place overlooking Lake Titicaca.<br /><br />Today I have nothing to do especially. I got the bus tickets, swapped some books, had a pancake breakfast. So all the important things taken care of. I might go to the modern art museum or the cinema. Not sure. I'd like to write more emails but have got really into this blogging and if I spend too long in an internet café my brain starts to turn to musha and I start telling people in Spanish that I don't speak English. Yeah.<br /><br />Take care.<br /><br />Hasta a vista.<br /><br /><p align="center"><strong>Some more pictures from The Death Road...(including our driver, Alberto)</strong></p><p align="center"><strong><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/400/934946/PICT0017.jpg" border="0" /></strong></p><p align="center"></p><p align="center"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/400/819485/PICT0015.jpg" border="0" /></p><p></p><p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/400/879703/PICT0068.jpg" border="0" /> </p><p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/400/654027/PICT0089.jpg" border="0" /><br /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/400/325329/DSC00616.jpg" border="0" /><br /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/400/106731/DSC00618.jpg" border="0" /><br /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/400/163812/PICT0041.jpg" border="0" /><br /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/400/815131/PICT0050.jpg" border="0" /><br /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/400/215230/PICT0079.jpg" border="0" /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/400/473307/PICT0061.jpg" border="0" /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/400/896752/PICT0085.jpg" border="0" /></p><br /><p align="center">Our group at the end of 'The Death Road'. Six surviors out of six! </p>.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517861099582946869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35304733.post-1166217099113002002006-12-15T20:48:00.000+00:002006-12-15T21:13:49.886+00:00Maps<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/506527/map%20bolivia.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/400/840764/map%20bolivia.jpg" border="0" /></a>I thought it was time for a map update. The top one shows the Bolivia journey in detail. It doesn't look like I've covered much ground in Bolivia, does it? But half of the country is in the Amazon basin, which is full of malaria, scary animals and cocaine processing plants, so I've not ventured too far into the jungle. I've taken the trouble to label just a few things of interest in the country. Perhaps it will encourage others to visit? Also, I have included a map of the whole of South America, to show The Big Picture.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/311769/map.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/400/742304/map.jpg" border="0" /></a>.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517861099582946869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35304733.post-1166215313953084162006-12-15T19:58:00.000+00:002006-12-15T20:45:43.820+00:00PICTURES<div align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/757533/DPSCamera_0017.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/400/37533/DPSCamera_0017.jpg" border="0" /></a> Sucre, Bolivia's prettiest city.<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/358601/DPSCamera_0009.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/400/591725/DPSCamera_0009.jpg" border="0" /></a> An example of some colonial architecture which is evident everywhere in the city.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/145067/DPSCamera_0004.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/400/427137/DPSCamera_0004.jpg" border="0" /></a> Getting up in Backpackers Sucre, 'fresh' for some Spanish lessons.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/648237/DPSCamera_0029.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/400/794721/DPSCamera_0029.jpg" border="0" /></a> Ruins in Samaipata. Bunch of stones.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/58085/DPSCamera_0032.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/400/680776/DPSCamera_0032.jpg" border="0" /></a> Beat takes five.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/198958/DPSCamera_0041.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/400/322726/DPSCamera_0041.jpg" border="0" /></a> Me at one of the Las Cuevas waterfalls in Samaipata.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/290047/DPSCamera_0042.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/400/965466/DPSCamera_0042.jpg" border="0" /></a> The other waterfall. Pretty nice, don't you think?<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/627182/DPSCamera_0045.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/400/617284/DPSCamera_0045.jpg" border="0" /></a> "Woah-woah-woah, mysterious girl, I want your..." That video was in a waterfall, right? If you squint hard enough you can see Peter Andre in his mid 90's heyday.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/545836/DPSCamera_0062.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/400/47889/DPSCamera_0062.jpg" border="0" /></a> Hmmm, another little waterfall in the jungle in Villa Tunari.</div><div align="center"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/400/211995/DPSCamera_0060.jpg" border="0" /></div><div align="center">This was taken just before me and Indy found the Golden Indian Head and he was crushed by a giant boulder.</div><div align="center"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/400/52960/DPSCamera_0074.jpg" border="0" />Beat makes a new friend.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/601581/DPSCamera_0075.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/400/986771/DPSCamera_0075.jpg" border="0" /></a> I think this monkey just looks really funny. Look in his eyes!<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/284055/DPSCamera_0081.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/400/966221/DPSCamera_0081.jpg" border="0" /></a> This monkey is one of the cutest things I've ever seen.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/389844/DPSCamera_0082.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/400/735693/DPSCamera_0082.jpg" border="0" /></a> Villa Tunari at sunset... </div>.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517861099582946869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35304733.post-1165940525074157682006-12-12T16:05:00.000+00:002006-12-12T16:43:18.553+00:00Cochabamba<em>Back up in the sky.</em><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>I'M ANNOYED. There seems to be some kind of virus on my photo memory card. Of course I can get a new one but I've loads of great pictures on there. Maybe they will be a shop that can sort it out, with some kind of anti-vral software type stuff. I'm not really very good with these things. If anyone has any ideas...</strong><br /><br />But what will happen will happen, there's nothing you can do about it. I'm in Cochabamba for a few days and there's not too much to do <em>here</em>. Plenty of excursions to 'pile of rocks' type ruins but my appetite for that has waned, gonna save it for a crack at Macchu Pichu. There are, however, some nice cafe/bars and Beat and I are rejecting beer these days for rum and cokes, or as they call them here, 'Cuba Libres' (Free Cuba!). Excellent.<br /><br />The ride here was a pretty authentic South American journey. A long twisty trip in a squashed seat up through the lush misty mountains in the rain on a bus with sometimes two kids in one seat and people sitting in the aisles. They always say you have to travel How The Local People Travel. It's like some kind of travelling rule. It's Bad if you fly or take a comfy bus. I personally think if you can find a comfy bus you should be rewarded for ingenuity.<br /><br />The city here seems pretty standard. Plaza, parks, university...oh, and a big Jesus on the hill, but I've seen one of those before. There's a big market here that we'll try to get to hopefully. We're out of the Amazon basin here. Cochabamba is around 2500-3000 metres above sea level so it's not too difficult getting around and it's cooler and less humid than the low-lands.<br /><br />My camera problem has thrown up an activity for tomorrow, else I'll try to get it fixed in the capital La Paz, our next stop in a few days.<br /><br />It's weird thinking about people getting ready for Christmas back home. There are a few decorations popping up here and there but otherwise it's a low key affair in Bolivia. If I were a super-organised traveller I suppose I could have cards and presents arriving back home, but unfortunately that's not me. If it was me, then I wouldn't really be <em>me</em>, would I? Be real to yourself. Didn't someone say that once? Think about that.<br /><br />Have I any general thoughts? Not really right now. I'm a bit worried about my camera. And it's frustrating as I can see the pictures on the card on the camera screen but can't put them on a CD or upload them. Arrghhh!<br /><br />I'll report back..http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517861099582946869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35304733.post-1165939486493442922006-12-12T15:46:00.000+00:002006-12-15T19:56:41.506+00:00Villa Tunari<em>Thieving monkeys and Spanish speaking parrots...</em><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>THIS IS a one-dog kind of town. Actually there are in fact several dogs, but you get the idea. Beat and I are here to see some animals in the nearby Parque Macchia. It's a place where for a reasonable fee you can volunteer to look after rescued monkeys and birds and big cats for 15 days. Beat and I do not have 15 days, so we're just wanting to have a look around.</strong><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/56603/DPSCamera_0055.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/553950/DPSCamera_0055.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Our plans are initially thwarted by a downpour that last abot 18 hours. We got wet. Quite wet. We are not allowed to go into the park as the animals are hiding from the rain and the trail is dangerous. So we wait. And wait. Altogether we wait for well over an hour and a half. But then we didn't have anything else to do. At least we dried off.<br /><br />Eventually we were let in and we walked around seeing some birds (parrots that speak Spanish - quite strange), met some volunteers and walked through the rainforest type forest. Good walk, getting good views of Villa Tunari and the BIG river next to it and the mountains. At the end of the trail is a little cascada (another waterfall). They're everywhere, these waterfalls.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/322151/DPSCamera_0077.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/293312/DPSCamera_0077.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />After the walk back we go to the monkey house and that really made the trip worth it. There's loads of monkeys all ages jumping on you. It's great fun. Sometimes they curl up and go to sleep on you, it's quite charming. But you have to be careful, these monkeys are mischevious and clever little things and are experts at searching your pockets, even undoing zips. I presume they were after food. I can't think what use they'd have for money. It was all going quite well, then Beat sat on the bench that I was on and it collapsed dropping us into a sandy pool of water. Wet again. But it was worth it.<br /><br />We didn't get to see any of the pumas or anything. That's in the refugio part of the park where the vounteers are. It would have been cool to work at the park and look after all the animals but unfortunately time simply doesn't permit. Beat and I must move on, and get back on the road. I think that a few more months more in South America would be good, but you can't do everything and it's always possible to come back to different countries on holidays and see places you didn't see this time round.<br /><br />Villa Tunari doesn't have many great restaurants but we managed to find some battered fish that I assume must have come from the river or something. We also found a bar with no-one in apart from 3 guys watching a Steven Seagal movie. I don't know which one. They're all the same. The bar had a great sloping pool table so we wracked up a few games. Needless to say I was victorious over the Swiss..http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517861099582946869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35304733.post-1165938347961564922006-12-12T15:22:00.000+00:002006-12-15T19:58:39.703+00:00Samaipata<em>More waterfalls. And are fascinating archeological sites really just a pile of stones?</em><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>THE LITTLE town of Samaipata is two and a half hours drive from Santa Cruz. Beat and I arrived here to...actually I wasn't sure what we were doing there. It was supposed to have some cool stuff. We were staying in Hostal Andorino, which served the best breakfast I've had in South America so far, fresh fruit and everything. Usually you have to make do with stale bread and dulce de leche.</strong><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/123245/DPSCamera_0026.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/39333/DPSCamera_0026.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />We met up with another guy from Jodanga called Alan and went on a day-of-fun type excursion together. First we headed up to El Fuerte(left), which has some pre-Incan ruins. Apparently, if the badly translated info sheet is to be believed, the site dates back to 1500 years BC. BC! That's a lonnnnng time. It was used as a meeting/market type place I think. Or possibly a spiritual ceremonial site. Or maybe it was used for sacrifices. There's this European guy who thinks it was an alien landing site, but I don't think he has any infomation to back this up.<br /><br />Anyway, so the site has carvings, nooks, crannies and some discovered ruins of buildings and houses. But really, when it comes down to it, it's just a pile of rocks, I think. But it was fun to walk around! And it was something interesting and cultural to do rather than watching dvds and that's important. Don't get me wrong, I think ruins and stuff are impressive and interesting, but maybe they need to be more complete to be more compelling and fascinating.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/118238/DPSCamera_0034.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/704196/DPSCamera_0034.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />After the pile of (interesting, pre-Incan) rocks we spent the afternoon at Las Cuevas, a lovely area with two amazing waterfalls. I slipped on a slippery rock and hurt my arm but it was nothing serious. Nothing could dampen this really quite beautiful little spot. The two waterfalls are conected by a little river/stream which I walked down. Really fun, felt like a jungle explorer, especially when you leg sinks down in sand up to the knee. Bit weird. I didn't have have any swimming stuff but it was so hot that I just ran in in my shorts, which meant I was wet all the way back but it was worth it. And waterfall water is quite powerful stuff. I alsways thought I could survive falling over a waterfall but now I'm not so sure. And these were <em>tiny</em> waterfalls, too.<br /><br />I also got quite burnt that day. But again, it was worth it. Really good day, really great scenery. Some of the rides in cars and buses here just yield the the most amazing views of valleys and stuff. Going through the hot, humid rainforesty areas you get all the mist floating through the trees and everything. It looks epic and totally cool, like you're in a documentary or something. I'm trying to underplay it all to emphasise how amazing it is. I don't know if it's working..http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517861099582946869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35304733.post-1165936900081221312006-12-12T14:44:00.000+00:002006-12-15T19:43:06.420+00:00Santa Cruz<em>I venture east into the humid tropics of the Amazon basin to see Bolivia's rischest city...and watch lots of dvds.</em><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>THE JOURNEY to the city of Santa Cruz was one of the worst trips EVER. Fifteen hours on a rickety old bus bumping up and down the whole way on scary mountain roads. Add to that the prescence of a fat man taking up half my seat and you can see I was not a happy bunny. I was also not happy that I couldn't stay in 'Busch Hostal', which I was recommended by a guy from Santa Cruz. It turned out that the hostal didn't actually exist. Which is a slight problem.</strong><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/777840/DPSCamera_0021.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/259790/DPSCamera_0021.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Anyway I ended up at Jodanga Hostal which was very nice so it was all good in the end. Jodanga had a pool and a big TV. Also, it had Adam, a Kiwi with a ton of 'fake' dvds of current films in cinemas. Surprisingly good quality. So during my time in the hostal we watched Scorcese's new movie <em>The Departed</em> and a film called <em>The Illusionist</em> with Ed Norton and Paul Giamatti. It is interesting that <em>The Illusionist</em> is out the same time as <em>The Prestige, </em>starring Christian 'The Professor' Bale and Michael Caine, which is also about illusionists. This happens often it seems. One studio decides to make a film about bugs or volcanoes or astoroids hitting the earth and another thinks 'great ideam we'll do that too.' Well movie/illusion fans I can report that <em>The Prestige</em> is the superior film. It even has REAL magic in. Although they both utilise the magic of cinema, so I guess everyone's a winner.<br /><br />But what of Santa Cruz? It's a nothng city really. After Sucre it's a complete let down. Lots of beggars, and really humid. Sata Cruz is kind of on the edge of the Amazon basin so it's sticky and sweaty with lots of angry mosquitoes, so the pool in the hostal is a life saver. My left leg has been savaged by blood-sucking insects recently, it looks 'orrible.<br /><br />Much of the time at Jodanga it was either too hot and humid or too wet to go out so...why not watch some more dvds? I remember watching a bit of an animated Spanish movie about an egg. Think <em>Finding Nemo</em>. But with eggs.<br /><br />The reason for the wetness is that although it is summer here in South America it is also the rainy season. So every other day there is some kind of tropical downpour. It's cool, but sometimes annoying.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/884483/DPSCamera_0027.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/389015/DPSCamera_0027.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Beat (left), my new travelling buddy, arrived at the hostal a day after me. A couple of interesting points about Beat; he's a Capatin in the Swiss army (he even has a Swiss Army Knife), and he's a full time pant-wearer. To address the first point, in Switzerland they have to do military service despite the fact they haven't had a war in 140 years. They even have a navy. To address the second point he says he doesn't like boxer shorts "because you're not in control of things." I don't know exactly what that means but it amused me greatly. I cannot confirm whether wearing pants in Swtitzerland is compulsory, like the army.<br /><br />One interesting happening in Santa cruz was a big protest in the main plaza one night. The President Evo Morales has had a law passed that any land not being used that is privately is to be given back to the indigenious people, who make up about half the population. The two main groups here are Quechua and Aymará, although it's very complicated. President Evo is himself an indio. People in Santa Cruz are angry about this law firstly because many people in Santa Cruz are rich and own land and secondly because you need two thirds of the vote to pass the bill and they didn't get it but the law went through anyway. South America, eh? Apparently in Bolivia they have had 40 Presidents in 50 years or something silly like that. I don't know what keeps the country running. Good luck Evo!<br /><br />It's very strange the contrast of the rich living so closer with the very, very poor. Honestly, so many people here have nothing, living on the streets. But it's an education, a learning experience definately. It puts countries like Argentina into a lot of perspective..http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517861099582946869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35304733.post-1165262084310720002006-12-04T19:00:00.000+00:002006-12-15T19:37:58.573+00:00Sucre<em>I visit Bolivia's prettiest city for 10 days and try and learn some Spanish while I'm at it.</em><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>THE JOURNEY here was not pleasant. After the Salt Lake trip I came down with a touch of something I will describe as 'travellers stomach'. Interpret that as you will. I made the 10-hour overnight trip on a bus with no toilet. Great.</strong><br /><br />As I arrived into Sucre I had the hassle of trying to arrange a room at a hostel at 5.30am, which wasn't a lot of fun. However, from this dark cloud emerges a becon of light. For it transpires that Sucre is, in fact, a beautiful, charming colonial city. The hostel, Backpackers Sucre, is an olden days style 18th century type place with a courtyard, patio, trees and all the other 18th century trimmings. Best of all, for the last 10 days I've had a quiet, comfy private room with cable TV (hearing Darth Vadar dubbed into Spanish is really quite an experience) for less than three quid a night. Pretty good.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/531609/DPSCamera_0001.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/652260/DPSCamera_0001.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />My main reason for being in Sucre was to learn some Spanish. I am a complete beginner and felt pretty stupid learning how to say the alphabet (the Spanish alphabet of course. I know the English one). It was like I'd been in a car crash, lost my memory and was having to relearn everything again like the words for chair and spoon.<br /><br />But it needed to be done. Every weekday afternoon from 2.30 to 6.30 I learnt my verbs, adjectives and pronouns with my teacher Carla, a Sucre local. She was nice enough, but I never felt completely relaxed with her. Someone else said the same thing about her. Strange. The school only charged 6 dollars an hour. Three quid an hour for a tutor would be hard to find back home.<br /><br />It was weird being back at school. I had a exercise book with a cartoon mouse on it. I noticed the mouse was playing basketball, which is completely implausible.<br /><br />I had homework as well, which was interesting. I thought of all the hours and years wasted learning German, which is spoken only by Germany, Austria and the Swiss pretty much. Instead I could have learnt Spanish which is spoken by, pretty much the WHOLE OF CENTRAL AND SOUTH AMERICA. And Spain of course. And a few other places for good measure. Madness.<br /><br />It was intense with all this learning. I woke up one night shouting out loud, "conjugate the verb, CONJUGATE THE VERB!"<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/823853/DPSCamera_0003.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/858443/DPSCamera_0003.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Outside of school I have been socialising with a nice group of people at the hostel here. There was Jenny from England, Sig, Mads and Mie (right) from Denmark and Patricia from Italy to name a few. Nice people. They have all since left and I have befriended a new group briefly. Importantly in this new group is a guy called Beat, a 34-year old ex-banker from Switzerland. No he really <em>was</em> a banker. Is. He's not sure what he'll do when he goes back home. (He speaks English as well as German!). He is going the same kind of route as me so we're going to be travelling together for the next few weeks. I'm leaving here a day earlier than him, going to Santa Cruz tonight. We've been recommended a place called Busch, but I'm not entirely convinced it exists, which would certainly make checking in problematic. Another option is Jodanga Hostel which has NO CABLE OR PRIVATE ROOMS. But it does have a pool. It's a bit pricey (almost 3.50 pounds a night) but it looks the best option.<br />Hopefully we'll do some day trips and then go to Cochabamba and then up to La Paz. Our aim is to spend Christmas at the town of Copacabana on Lake Titicaca, before heading to Cusco in Peru for New Year's eve. That's the <em>plan</em>, anyway. Things can always change. But it's a rough idea. From then on, who knows, although I fly to Sydney on Jan 22nd-ish (must check) so won't see much in Chile.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/622147/DPSCamera_0010.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/776918/DPSCamera_0010.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Sucre is a lovely place, 'spoilt' only by an abundance of beggars. It's simply a fact of life as Bolivia has a great amount of poverty. Walking around the city is fantastic. They have great Churches, houses and a walk up to overlook the city which is really quite splendid. There's an impressive cemetary and a park with a miniture Eiffel Tower.<br /><br />It's a really nice place to spend time and I now feel fairly at home here. We've been out to different restaurants and cafès. I've discovered I have a weird ordering problem in restaurants in that if something looks unusual I have to have it. This is a good thing when you get something called 'Mondongo', a nice traditional dish, but GOD HELP YOU if you go for the 'Bolivian Surprise'. It's supposed to be the dish-of-the-week, but basically it's whatever the chef has left over; pasta, potatoes, chicken legs, and really, really HOT sauce. Not good for poorly Andy's stomach. The 'Bolivian Surprise' has now become a code word for...bad things.<br /><br />Laura quizzed me on the dress over here recently. Like most young people in South America, in Bolivia the young people wear western style jeans, t-shirts, trainers and the slightly older people wear suits. But the old indio women wear crazy patterns and bowler hats and their hair in plats. I'm getting used to it but it's still pretty odd. I want to get lots of pictures but they always ask for money, so it's difficult. Hopefully I'll get some pictures up soon.<br /><br />The Bolivians are very different from Argentinians. About half the population here has indigenious ancestors and they seem more passive and quieter than the Argies. I'm glad I came to Bolivia, it's a fascinating place. Really feels like <em>real</em> South America.<br /><br />So my time in Sucre is almost up. I'm almost over my stomach thing now. Strange that in one of my favourite places I've visted I've felt the worst on the trip so far. When you feel weak and unwell everything seems like an effort. But I'm better now and I've really enjoyed it. The hostel, people, travellers, classes and everything has all been good.<br /><br />On the book front I've finished <em>Charlie and the Chocolate Factory</em>. Still prefere the Gene Wilder film version, and now I'm onto <em>Freakonomics</em>, a book about, er, freaky economics. I've also got an interesting book by a Japanese writer called <em>Norwegian Wood</em>. Hmmm. My reading has suffered from classes, cable and general socialising. I'll crack on now.<br /><br />Right I'm off to get my bags and head off to Santa Cruz. It's only 12-15 hours.<br /><br />I wonder if the bus will have a toilet?.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517861099582946869noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35304733.post-1164642866234675522006-11-27T15:26:00.000+00:002006-11-27T17:02:10.576+00:00PICTURES<div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/234683/andy%20053.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/149794/andy%20053.jpg" border="0" /></a> The charming little town of Tupiza, where we started the Salt lake tour.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/308143/andy%20054.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/400/820486/andy%20054.jpg" border="0" /></a> The wild west type valleys we had to navigate through.<br /><div align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/286204/andy%20056.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/558369/andy%20056.jpg" border="0" /></a> Michele and Lynn in the back of the Jeep.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/973528/andy%20067.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/659291/andy%20067.jpg" border="0" /></a> Franklin, a boy in one of the TINY towns we stopped at.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/881299/andy%20069.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/112102/andy%20069.jpg" border="0" /></a>Farmers.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/861047/andy%20081.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/400/83117/andy%20081.jpg" border="0" /></a> Clive on a photo mission.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/857396/andy%20079.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/400/952285/andy%20079.jpg" border="0" /></a> Ahh, lots of nice reflections abound.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/491695/andy%20084.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/400/99144/andy%20084.jpg" border="0" /></a> A strange light blue lake. What's it called again?...<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/666821/andy%20083.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/144025/andy%20083.jpg" border="0" /></a> Hot springs! Relaxing.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/673597/andy%20093.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/400/548850/andy%20093.jpg" border="0" /></a> Geisers. Dangerous to jump over.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/433427/andy%20095.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/956759/andy%20095.jpg" border="0" /></a> Back a little, back a little...<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/817520/andy%20097.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/905728/andy%20097.jpg" border="0" /></a> Michele and Clive.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/608780/andy%20101.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/400/110225/andy%20101.jpg" border="0" /></a> Mmm-hmm.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/689662/andy%20112.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/400/189605/andy%20112.jpg" border="0" /></a> The bizarre 'rock tree'.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/476283/andy%20125.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/759682/andy%20125.jpg" border="0" /></a> The view of our lodgings just outside the salt flats.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/545837/andy%20127.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/457397/andy%20127.jpg" border="0" /></a> Our group climbing up the cactus hill.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/908021/andy%20129.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/741543/andy%20129.jpg" border="0" /></a> Dinner time eating Margarete's lovely food.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/761332/andy%20130.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/700509/andy%20130.jpg" border="0" /></a> Carlos getting emotional. And drunk.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/932508/andy%20132.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/424271/andy%20132.jpg" border="0" /></a> We slept on salt beds.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/184494/andy%20133.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/965920/andy%20133.jpg" border="0" /></a> Sunrise over the salt lake.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/922538/andy%20136.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/244968/andy%20136.jpg" border="0" /></a> View from the island in the middle of the salt lake.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/354384/andy%20138.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/406509/andy%20138.jpg" border="0" /></a> Dead Cactus.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/659112/andy%20144.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/459402/andy%20144.jpg" border="0" /></a> A little pond. Quite salty.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/671263/andy%20141.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/648600/andy%20141.jpg" border="0" /></a> The endless horizon. That's Clive in the background.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/669027/andy%20145.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/49028/andy%20145.jpg" border="0" /></a> Me triumphant with a massive lump of salt.</div></div>.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517861099582946869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35304733.post-1164489022074049992006-11-25T20:29:00.000+00:002006-11-26T15:57:32.776+00:00Salar de Uyuni trip<em>I've had an interesting time on a 4-day tour of the south-west of Bolivia, climaxing with the reaching of the 'Salar de Uyuni', the famous salt lake which is supposed to be one of the highlights of travelling in South America. Along the way we encountered beautiful alien landscapes, amazing scenery, altitude sickness, drunk tour guides and coca leaves...</em><br /><br /><strong>THE TOUR does not get off to a good start. I had no money in the tiny town of Tupiza and the only way of getting cash was to get a Mastercard advance, involving commisions and interest. Fine, except the swipey stripe on my Mastercard wasn't working, so for the entire trip I was in debt to everyone for Bolivianos. I actually had a tab with Lynn.</strong><br /><br /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/252412/andy%20063.jpg" border="0" /><br /><p><br />So we got off to a late start on Monday, setting out into the nothingness at about 10am. Ours was a group of four, consisting of myself, Lynn, a Canadian stockbroker called Clive and an Italian called Michele. We also had our driver/guide Carlos and our cook, Margarete. There were two other groups leaving from Tupiza earlier that day, but we soon caught up with them as Carlos is one of the best drivers I've ever seen, which is a good thing as at some points we were driving along gravel mountain roads with no barriers or anything. I have to admit that despite the amazing scenery I felt quite nervous.<br /><br />That first day we mainly drove around the mountains and stopped at some tiny little towns where they have only recently got a couple of cars to drive the 3 or 4 hours to Tupiza for supples instead of making the week-long journey on llamas. Apparently on Sundays a preist comes from Tupiza in a 4x4 truck to do services across the area.<br /><br />In these small towns you really wonder what the hell these 150 or so people <em>do</em>, hours from anywhere in a car (and that's in the dry season when the roads are passable). I was told there is a bus. Once a week.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/755387/andy%20057.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/200/848808/andy%20057.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Llama farming seems to be a popular job. Carlos told us about a man up in the mountains with no wife, no family, just a few hundred llamas. What does <em>he</em> do most of the time?<br /><br />When we stopped that first night I started to feel the altitude. We were at about 3,500 metres and walking around was literally a breathtaking experience. Our cook Margarete, a lovely woman, made us dinner. She served us breakfast, lunch and dinner each day, with some pretty decent food for the Bolivian desert.<br /><br />The next day we awoke at 5.30am to get started. There was a huge amount of driving that day, as we didn't finish untill about 6pm that evening. During the second day we realised the Bolivian/Peruvian mix tapes that Carlos used were insufficient for our long drives, resulting in the repitition of many songs that drove me to the point of madness. One of the songs was about some people celebrating because the village cow was fat and nearly ready to eat. They were going to have a party. Because of the cow, you see.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/803207/andy%20086.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/927232/andy%20086.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />It was around this time that it was explained to me that Coca leaves are helpful for altitude sickness. So we all started chewing and though they tasted disgusting, they did the trick. Apparently it's all to do with opening up blood vessels to allow more oxegen to get through the blood stream to the brain. Coca leaves are totally legal to buy and everyone chews them at altitude here in Bolivia. Well, not everyone, but you know what I mean. You can have them in tea, a popular drink being Coca Maté. Cool. It's nice. Quite stimulating, so I don't recommend it before bedtime.<br /><br />I was quite sick that second morning, what with the motion of the truck as well as the altitude. It got better later in the day, but that was a bad few hours.<br /><br />During the day we saw a cool ghost town. I don't know what it's called but back in the 1600s this town mined for silver and became so rich they went a bit mad. The story goes that the devil came to the town and soon people were building houses with wheat instead of proper cement mixture stuff, some people got married 3 times in one day and the women used llama meat to sew things instead of your typical sewing stuff like string and thread.<br /><br />Then a plague came and killed them all off. And that was that. Interesting, eh?<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/965344/andy%20089.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/369233/andy%20089.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />We stopped at a hot spring for lunch and later that day we travelled up to see some geisers at 5,000 metres! It was insane. Nothing was growing up there. The geisers were impressive. I heard a story of some tourists who were JUMPING OVER the geisers as some kind of dare-based situation and a Frenchman fell in one. Stupid boy. He was burnt all up to his waist. Nasty. Some people have to learn the hard way.<br /><br />The landscapes we were seeing during this trip were quite out of this world. Desolate and unforgiving terrain was crossed over many hours. I wouldn`t have liked to break down out there.<br /><br />The sleeping arrangements were basic. Very basic in fact, but not horrible. I mean we didn't have showers at the first two places we stayed but still it was fine, what with the hotsprings and all. Quite refreshing.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/861474/andy%20100.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/330942/andy%20100.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Our third day we saw loads of lagoons with strange colours and amazing reflections and flamingoes. But more impressive were the strange rock formations we walked around a few hours later. Apparently there are little or no formations like this in the world. The famous bit is the 'rock tree' but all of it was strange and somewhat magical. Spiritual almost. These crazy rock shapes set in some kind of quasi-Marsian landscape.<br /><br />There was a lot of driving that day too. Some roads that didn't even qualify as roads. Carlos did a superb job not only keeping us on the road, but keeping us ahead of the other groups, which is more important I think. In fact we lost one group, Tupiza tours, and never saw them again. I'm sure they're ok.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/44811/andy%20122.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/744881/andy%20122.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Our last night proved most interesting. We stayed at a lodge type place with beds and floors made from salt. We hiked for an hour up the nearby hill where we had a superb view of the salt lake and the nothingness beyond. The hill was covered with cactai. Very strange. At the top of this hill was the quietist silence I've ever heard. No wind or anything. Then I said aloud, "this is the quietist silence I've ever heard," and a great crack of thunder answered back that it was time to go. It was really surreal, like a cliche in a film. Bizarre.<br /><br />At this point I feel I should explain more about the 'salt lakes'. Basically they were real pre-histric lakes that one day just dried up. Well, not one day, but it happened, ok? Anyway, left behind was this salt terrain landscape that looks completely alien. Like desert, but more bizare. Lifeless, endless, and, er, salty. Very salty in fact. I tasted it. People mine the lake for salt and refine it.<br /><br />Apparently a few years ago a truck of tourists just disappeared in the slat lake. The theory being that an earthquake opened the ground and swallowed the truck then sealed up behind them. Fascinating, but chilling!<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/380435/andy%20131.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/61703/andy%20131.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Now the really interesting bit of that last night. Drivers in Bolivia are notoriously known for being drunk. Our guy, Carlos, was completely fine. Untill that last night. We had an excellent dinner of soup, chicken, potatoes and salad prepared by Margarete. We were drinking some beer and wine and Carlos and Margarete joined us for drinks. It soon dawned on us - Carlos was wasted! We were his brothers, fathers and friends. Lynn was a potential lover untill she was downgraded to a sister. It was a deep, touching session. Carlos went on and on about how this was a great group, and I was 'muy tranquilo' (very relaxed and calm), probably because I couldn't unserstand much of what Carlos was saying. He spoke no English you see. He does speak two other indigenous languages, but that doesn't help because my Quechua is pretty rusty.<br /><br />The lights stayed on past the alotted time of 10pm because Carlos claimed people knew him and were fearful of him (he is about 5'6).<br /><br />Now, we all went to bed soon after as we were getting up early to see the sun rise over the salt flats. Well, not all of us. When we got up at 5am, it was apparent that Carlos had not gone to bed and had stayed up partying and drinking with some others at the complex! He was a happy camper, and we had the hilarious and strange experience of driving around this alien landscape under the rising sun, at 6am, in Bolivia, with a drunk driver who was having a party with us in his truck. <a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/208220/andy%20134.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/513290/andy%20134.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p>Now you might think this was somewhat irresponsible of our Carlos, but the truth is that on this salt lake there is literally <em>nothing</em> to hit. Someone with no arms could drive the lake. Carlos proved this by driving with his thighs for ten minutes.<br /><br />At the centre of the lake is a bizarre island inhabited by more cactai which offers an amazing 360 view of the salt lake. You can see some mountains from the top but apart from that it's salt, salt, everywhere.<br /><br />One of the cactai (spelling?) was 1200 years old. That's what the sign said. It was old. And really big.<br /><br />So we drove around the flats as Carlos sobered up and we took loads of pictures and did that perspective photo thing where it looks like you're holding the truck in the palm of your hand. Michele took lots of those photos. In fact he took loads of pictures generally during those few days. He said he took 300 pictures over the trip time and I believe him. Everywhere we went he wanted to "make a picture." We made lots of pictures.<br /></p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/400/248961/andy%20139.jpg" border="0" /><br />After a couple of other stops we were finished our trip. The last day was bitter-sweet. It was the climax to our trip but I had to say goodbye to all the guys. In Uyuni, where the trip finished, we managed to find an international ATM and I settled all my debts before boarding a rickety and bumby bus to Sucre. Clive went to La Paz with Michele and Lynn went to Buenos Aires where she has an exam sometime soon. Carlos had to drive back to Tupiza, where I imagine he went to sleep pretty fast.<br /><br />I understand that this whole drunk driver thing seems a bit alarming. But Carlos was genuinely a nice guy and I think he probably got wasted at that point quite often, as he knew he could handle the drive across the salt flats. If he was drunk on those mountain roads it would, er, be quite a different story. In fact one group complained to their agency because their driver was drunk quite a bit. Obviously this is unacceptable. In fact we had a good tour company. It's an insane business these 3 or 4 day salt flat tours. We paid a bit over the odds (130 US Dollars) as there was only 4 of us in our car on the trip. Other people paid about half what we did in Uyuni, the characterless town where most tours go from. However, I think it was worth it as our tour was along a better route, we were alone more often and not in a herd of 10 or 15 cars from Uyuni and our tour was 4 days whereas some people paid 65 US Dollars for 3 days. I've heard of some bad stories from Uyuni tour groups - Drunk drivers, fallings out with drivers, only one cook per 18 people, 7 folks being squeezed into a 6 person max truck.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/530274/andy%20080.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/537020/andy%20080.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Sometimes it's better to pay a bit more for a trip you really belive is going to be good. I would recommend anyone going from Tupiza on this trip rather than Uyuni and going with Salar or Valle Hermoso (our group). It was a great trip and I was really happy with my group.<br /><br />So now I am in Sucre, at Backpackers Sucre on Colon and Loa. It's a nice place, with nice courtyard type stuff. I have a comfy, private room with cable TV for about 2.80 pounds a night. There's another bed but even if it gets taken there'll still be loads of space. It's like being in a hotel, which is bad for socialising but great for relaxing and having some privacy.<br /><br />I've been having a poorly stomach these past few days but there are far worse places to relax and take it easy after the crazy trip up to Bolivia and the following tour. Last night I watched <em>Silence of the Lambs</em> and <em>Roxanne</em>. Today I watched<em> Shakespeare in Love</em>. Cable is great. I've gone from watching no TV for ages to indulging completely. I've watched quite a lot of comedy shows too.<br /><br />But I'm not bedridden! I've been out and about and I'll be in Sucre for a week or so as I've signed up for some Spanish lessons. Four hours a day for five days. Hopwfully I'll get some basic syntax understanding about sentence forming rather than my broken attempts like, "Hola, que tal? Quisiero, er, medicine para, er, malo, um, stomach," where I mix up English and Spanish for good measure.<br /><br />This is an epic entry, and I think I'll probably add more to it later. Hopefully I should have loads of pictures up tomorrow. That's my sole thing to do tomorrow - upload pictures! Ahh, it's a hard life.<br /><br />Another positive of the last couple of days is that the lovely tax people have paid me over a thousand pounds, so although I was getting a bit concerned about money I should be able to finsih my intended trip and not come home early. So it should be sometime in March I come home. That's a good 6 months away. I don't think I'd want to away to much longer on my own. It's great meeting, tripping and travelling with people but I think I'll be ready for home around March!<br /><br />This salt trip has been fantastic. Good folks, good experiences, photos, stories, everything. My journey though Bolivia continues. After here I'll head to Peru for Christmas and new year, then down through Chile then flying to Sydney 20 January-ish, then after my short Australian stoppover, onto South Africa where I hope to visit a couple of old friends and meet Laura and do some travelling with her.<br /><br />It's all very crazy and exciting. Suddenly time looks shorter. Days slightly more important. But I've still got a month-ish left in Bolivia, then 3-ish weeks in Peru, then, er, a bit in Chile. Then my stoppover in Oz, then Africa.<br /><br />I now realise that this has not value of interest to read at all, I'm just sorting things in my head but out loud effectively.<br /><br />Well, it's nice to have a bit of a plan.<br /><br />I'm meeting English and French girls later, possibly for dinner, then an early night and possibly more cable! And, yes I <em>am</em> getting into the culture. Most of the channels are in <em>Spanish</em>, so you see it's all research.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/1600/631897/andy%20143.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/3376/3743/320/372287/andy%20143.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Just for good measure, here's a picture of me sitting on furniture made entirely from salt.<br /><br />Drop me an e-mail. Chao for now.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><em><strong></strong></em><br /><br /><br /><br /><em></em>.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517861099582946869noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35304733.post-1163970305780025222006-11-19T20:22:00.000+00:002006-12-08T22:51:19.600+00:00Journey into Bolivia<em>"Borderline...feels like I'm going to lose my mind."</em> - Madonna.<br /><br /><strong>YES. BOLIVIA. I never thought I'd be here. Not on this trip. Not ever. And yet here I am, in a town a couple of hours north of the Argentina/Bolivia frontier.</strong><br /><br />The trip across has been relatively straightforward. It's kind of like this. At 12.30am I took the 6-hour bus to La Quiaca, partially having to endure the emetic Hollywood chick-flick <em>The Perfect Man</em>, starring Heather Locklear<em>.</em> I'm travelling with an American girl called Lynn. Lynn is from Michigan and has never heard of scotch eggs or jaffa cakes. Incredible. The US is a backward country, it really is.<br /><br />At La Quica we walked through the immigration control and took care of all the passport document stuff. From there we caught another (more rustic) bus up to Tupiza. We were trying to get to the city Uyuni, but the buses only go every OTHER day. The jeeps and trains were booked up so we checked into Villa Hermoso Hostel. It's HI, but unlike the last place it's clean, comfy and the staff are friendly. Well, the staff were friendly in the last place but this is just <em>nicer</em>.<br /><br />The purpose of coming up to this part of Bolivia is to tour around the Salt lakes of Uyuni. The highest and possibly biggest in the world. We wanted to go from Uyuni but got such enthusiastic feedback from people returning from the trip, from other reviews and the woman at the hostel that we're now going from here in Tupiza tomorrow at 9am. It's a 4-day tour including (reportedly good) food, accomodation, guide, transport etc. I think it's a bit more expensive than some tours in Uyuni but it's so heavily recommended I think it's a good choice. It also means we don't lose a day in a hot, cramped jeep for 6 hours getting up to Uyuni. Apparently we get to see other cool stuff like geisers an volcanoes but I don't want to think about it right now lest I build the trip up in my mind and get disappointed. No doubt I'll write a full report when I finish the trip in Uyuni and I'll try to get photos up as well.<br /><br />Tupiza is like an old wild west town. Dry, dusty and with a browny beige colour scheme that may not be intentional. It's also close to the spot where Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid died. I'm glad we stopped here.<br /><br />Bolivia looks like it's going to be an interesting place. The older women especially wear really strange clothes. It's like stepping straight into a guidebook. I want to take pictures but don't want to seem like a stupid annoying tourist. Must be subtle. Stealth-like.<br /><br />I have a pocketful of Bolivianos. It's about 15 to the pound. The hostel is only 20 Bolivianos for a nice dorm bed. That's only 1.30 in proper money. Excellent.<br /><br />I'm quite excited about my trip. There's just going to be 6 of us travelling around with our guide I think, and because we're going from a less popular town to start we'll be on our own for a couple of days before we hit the salt lake and joining the other tourists. Hmmm. It's all very interesting. As we leave tomorrow I'll finish in Uyuni on Thursday so might blog it Friday and then leave for Potosi or somewhere. As ever, I'm pretty much making it up as I go along.<br /><br />It's cool travelling on your own, meeting people all the time. You definately get in some interesting situations that you wouldn't if you were with a big group of friends. But I'm not one of those people that says 'travelling alone is the only way to go man'. No, every travelling scenario has it's pros and cons. Solo travelling makes you accesible, you make new friends easily because you <em>have</em> to talk to people. If you have an established group or long term travelling buddy it's easy to not do things as you still have someone to talk to. But then sometimes it can be lonely moving to a new place and no-one speaks good English, only Spanish or Hebrew! Likewise travelling with a friend or partner is great because of the whole 'shared experience thing' (which will be great when Laura comes out to visit me), but long-term, think of the compromises to possibly make, and the tensions that could develop. Ah, in the end it's all good experience. If you travel alone you have to be social, form groups and friendships whenever you can and go on trips with your new friends. If in a group or with a partner just be as accessible as you can, I guess.<br /><br />It's nice travelling with Lynn. Despite her ignorance of classic British snack food she's a lovely girl. She's been in Buenos Aires studying for 5 months which of course is a great specific insight into a place. Living in a place is the only way to get to know somewhere really well, like I feel I did in South Africa. But you can't do that in every country you want to visit! It's best to get a mixture of experiences I think. Oh, and Lynn speaks very good Spanish. Which helps in Bolivia. Because I don't think many people here speak great English.<br /><br />My last day or two in Salta were interesting. Iwent to the MAAM museum which is all about the discovery of the mummies of 3 Inca children in 1999. The children were 500 years old and the best preserved mummies, pretty much ever! There were photos, info, documentaries about it all at the museum. Apparently they were found over at 6,700 metres up an Andean mountain near Salta. They had travelled there as part of an Inca sacrifice ceremony. Crazy. Google it, it's really interesting.<br /><br />My last meal in Argentina was suitably an <em>Asado, </em>a bbq with more meat than you can shake a stick at. What' s more when I went to pay they said "don`t worry about it." Amazing.<br /><br />There were a few late nights in Salta, reminded me of being ing Buenos Aires. I liked Salta. Interesting architecture, museums, bars, and good exursions by all accounts (I didn't go on any).<br /><br /><br />Arrgghh, James Blunt is playing! <em>You're</em> bloody<em> Beautiful</em>. In a wild west town in Bolivia! He seems to seep through the tectonic plates like a disease, or maybe even like that slimey stuff from <em>Ghostbusters 2.</em> He has infected the planet and invaded every pore of the world. It is the end. There is NO ESCAPE!<br /><br />Book update! I have just finished Kurt Vonnegut's bizarre novel <em>Timequake</em>. There's no plot to it. It's kind of part biog, part fiction. Very funny and strangely thought provoking. At one point in the book Vonnegut declares that he actually knows how many people in the world have lives <em>worth</em> <em>living</em>.<br /><br />It's 17% apparently.<br /><br />Next I'm moving onto either <em>Charlie and The Chocolate Factory</em> or a book about The Yorkshire Ripper, aka Pete Sutcliffe.<br /><br />Right, gotta go. Will report back later in the week.<br /><br />Chao..http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517861099582946869noreply@blogger.com1