Yo kids,
After a fair chunk of time since my last blog, the steady stream of quiet clammering for more blogging news on Australia has finally cajoled me into writing another entry. Leaving beautiful New Zealand behind and saying farewell to the Englishness of Christchurch, I arrived in Sydney to none other than the most English of weathers - rain. Definitely feeling the jet lag (or possibly it was a hangover from my last night in NZ as the time difference is only three hours!), I put my self straight to bed and happily awoke to a rather stunning sunny day, which I spent meandering around Darling Harbour and soaking in the Sydney vibe. The next week or so went whizzing by in a frantic search in more rain for a job. After being offered various sales roles in which I would either become one of those heinous door-to-door people who are universally hated or become a random street wanderer wanting to shoot myself on a minutely basis and harassing people with various contract sign-ups, I finally signed up to a few agencies to get me some 'proper' work. The small (read very scary) deficit in my bank balance did however force me into a small bit of handing out leaflets for a travel firm...a position in which I got to entertain tramps on the street, enjoy the slightly sunnier weather, be entertained by some random transvestites and be asked on numerous dates by inquisitive ozzies...as you do. So my first couple of weeks , to be honest, were pretty non eventful in comparison to the skydiving, dolphin swimming excitement of NZ.
With the agencies on the task of getting me a proper job, nevertheless, was able to spend my remaining hours buying clothes for bargainous prices, wading around in the rain and being overjoyed at snippets of sun, going to interviews, searching for flats, and all sorts of fun things. I also moved into a much cheaper backpackers where I met some utterly fabulous long-term room mates, and discovered the wondrous secrets of goon. Now ''goon'' is the slang for Australian wine in a box which can only really be described as so cheap and so bad that it can only be good. My new roomies, Lydia, Cole, Andy, Wayne and Sean spent a fair few nights on the goon talking travel and watching DVDs, staying up all hours and being generally backpakery. All this was a great contrast for me, until I managed to land a job with none other than Deloitte, who will be employing me when I get back to the UK next summer. A week of trying to get up at 7.30 after not being able to sleep in the hubub and party atmosphere of the hostel finally got me to move into a flat. I had been flat-searching with a rather lovely Irish girl I met, named Marian, but after viewing a lot of 6 person flats with 10 people in, rooms where beer was being dried out of the carpet with haridryers, 'double' rooms with scarcely enough room for a double bed, one flat where the asian lady was clearly running some kind of illicit business judging from the myriad boxes cluttering every square inch, and numerous apartments where people were sleeping in the lounge and even on the balcony (I kid you not) we agreed to search on our own. The flat I found is ideally located, 15 minutes walk from Deloitte (which is, incidentally, a very cool job) and 5 minutes from the restaurant I am waitressing in (which is a great job when the evil senior manager who threatened to fire me for turning up early for a shift is not working), and is cheap for the area, clean and modern. So after a few weeks of uncertainty, managed to land pretty happily on my little feet :-)
And since then it's been same-old, same-old. Luncheoning on Sydney harbour, working at Deloitte with my very friendly colleagues, having my very own Deloitte mug, getting lots of free cake and tea, enjoying the much better weather, working at the restaurant, going out, chilling out, passing out through sheer exhaustion at working so many hours...and also a few highlights to pot. One highlight was going to Darling Harbour on the King of Thailand's birthday with my Thai flatmates May and Nui and Ana (Croatian), Benny( Korean), and Lee (Ozzie - May's husband) to celebrate. We joined the throngs dressed in yellow, watched Thai dancers, marvelled at the sitting-in-lotus-position-power of the monks, held candles, listened to 81 repetitions of happy birthday wishes in Thai (the King was only 80, but they thought they would do an extra for good luck, bring the whole episode to a lengthy 20 minutes!) and had a splendid evening. I started to get itchy feet though and have thus been thinking ahead to new travels. Hopefully I'll be off again in February. Other highlights include the staff Christmas party trip to Rod Island and getting the ferry back in a thunderstorm, taking an office trip to Manly for lunch, and wandering Paddy's market, watching the ibis birds stalk around the harbour. Fun stuff.
Sorry this has been a bit of a boring blog. I'm afraid my life can't always be exciting. It should get a bit more exciting in the next couple of weeks though as Mum, Dad, Rachel and Sarah are coming out for Christmas and New Year. I am soooooooooooooooooooo excited. Even though the Australian attempt at Christmas is regretably shabby, consisting of a few holly sprigs and Christmas trees (which don't grow here) adorning a few random buildings, snow flakes (which are definitely not a feature in the 30 degree heat!) speckling some merchandise, and a few mince pies (which fear are only a token gesture to the season for the British contingency here in Sydney). At least with the family here I'll get the traditional family arguments! Haha. Oh well - it won't all be bad I suppose...I am sure we will seek out some yuletide spirit somewhere in the city, while obviously sunning ourselves on the beaches, enjoying all the cultural stuff and going to gardens and zoos and aqauriums and suchlike. So hopefully some more news in a couple of weeks. In the meantime, Happy Christmas everyone. Enjoy the cold weather for me in the rainy, dark depths of England (making you jealous yet?), and watch the tv on New Year's Eve to see the Sydney celebrations. I'll be among those masses. (Jealous now? Hehe ;-) )
Love and Christmassy goodness to all,
Helen xxxx
Friday, 14 December 2007
Friday, 2 November 2007
NZ South Island - The Beauty that Was the Land of the Long White Cloud
Morning all,
Well - it's been a beautiful, long and scenic ride in the south island of New Zealand, or Aotearoa ( in Maori), the Land of the Long White Cloud. The prettiness that is the south island started with a ferry crossing from Wellington to Picton across a rather gorgeous seascape (most of which I missed because I was asleep) which ended dramatically with sheer cliff faces rising from the sea (which I also missed, also due to my submission to seratonin). I saw the pictures though, courtesy of new-found amazing and lovely person James, and felt suitably silly for having failed to see it. The first stop in the south island, however, was stunningly picturesque as well, so i don't feel I missed out too much. Nelson, the supposed centre of New Zealand, is a vineyard paradise of sunny weather and pretty mountains and hippy organic foods, and just happens to be next to the Abel Tasman national park. After a wander to the centre point of NZ to so the touristy picture thing, the Kiwi Experience posse and I enjoyed a few quiet drinks in the most English pub outside England, The Prince Albert, and stayed in rather posh rooms with power showers :-) The following day saw the first activity of the South - I went kayaking in Abel Tasman along a coastline of picture perfect beaches and was lucky enough to kayak alongside seals and see penguins, which was pretty cool. A stopover in a hut in the park allowed me and my compatriots, Woody, Duncan and Alison, to trek back through the park the following day, which was also pretty cool. What was NOT cool, however, was getting bitten to shit by bed bugs in the hut. Not cool at all - and two weeks, 4 types of antihistamine, and an entire tube of aloe vera later, the 150 odd bites I was so lovingly given are finally disappearing. Still, I think I can call myself a traveller now - a proper, bonifide, bed-bug-bitten traveller. I am also a expert on bedbugs, which is great.
After the two-day Abel Tasman trek, we headed back to Nelson for a night out, followed by a mooch around Nelson's amazing market the following morning. There were crafts, jade stone, bone and paua shell jewelry, yummy organic foods, locally grown fruit and veg, and many very smiley and happy people being exceptionally helfpul. I love Kiwis. The next stop was in Westport, an old mining town on the West Coast, and was very uneventful, apart from watching England lose the rugby - never a good thing. So, a coach load of disappointed English set off for the next stopover, via a coastal walk along the nearest point to Australia. If you looked really, really hard on a very clear day, you'd still have no chance in hell of seeing Oz. Lake Mahinapua was the next pit stop, and as a place was as uneventful as Westport. However, due to the cunning plan of Steve - The Most Amazing Kiwi Bus Driver Ever - a party involving everyone dressing up in outfits entirely constructed from plastic bags ensured an evening of raucousness and revelry ensued. I dressed as a pirate (obviously), and I had a hat, and a hook like Captain Hook, and a parrot called Long John after Long John Silver, and a parchment of buried treasure. I looked oh-so-beautiful, and joined a horde of variously attired friends masquerading as skydivers, cows, mummies, zebras, Little Red Riding Hood, a cupcake, and other such delights. See the pics.
Continuining with the journey down the west coast, Franz Josef Galcier was next on the cards. Unforntunately my plan to hike on the glacier and get a close-up view were scuppered by the skiing injury to my knee, so I had to make do with being bed-bug-bite-covered and somewhat tearful at the hostel instead. I did get to hike up to the glacier, but I was still pretty disappointed not to be able to check it out properly. Ah well...I saw some pictures, had a lovely hike to it with Claudia the Columbian, and had some time to wash and dry all my clothes etc. to rid myself of the evil bedbugs. By comparison, the subsequent stop in Wanaka was darn groovy. Lake Wanaka followed in the trend of NZ scenic-ness by being utterly gorgeous, surrounded by mountains and blue sky and all that. We had yet another night out (see a theme emerging here?) and also got to go to Puzzling World where we were confused by the optical illusions and had our hung-over logic challenged by various puzzles and mazes. By comparison to Wanaka, nevertheless, next stop Queenstown was even more fabulous. Queenstown is marvellous. It surrounded by snow-capped mountains, has a serene lake, has gorgeous gardens to stroll around, the weather was great, the sky was blue, the birds were singing...the usual. Furthermore, Queenstown is filled with great bars, good places to eat, all the backpackers you could ever want, and is the activity hive of New Zealand. Adrenaline junkies can attempt skydives, bungi jumps, paragliding, parasailing, canyon swinging, and all manner of other exciting activities. I did luging - which is basically go-karting down a hill and racing people at dangerous speeds. Having nearly run out of money, though, I was restrained on the activity front and chose instead to spend my time and money imbibing various beverages with lovely people and navigating my way around a dorm room so messy it could have been a Tracy Emmins piece. But Queenstown was awesome. Sweet as...
In order to reach the final destination of my Kiwi Experience ticket, Christchurch, we embarked on an epic 8 hour bus ride and had a glimpse of Mount Cook en route. Apparently it's in Lord of the Rings. But I don't like Lord of the Rings, so I wouldn't know really. It was very pretty. It is the tallest mountain in NZ, fact fans. Even though Christchurch was my last official stop, I managed to get an add-on to head up to Kaikoura. Kaikoura was, again, very scenic and pretty - mountains, sea, blue sky, yada, yada, yada...but here I managed to do one of my favouritest things ever - swimming with dolphins :-) I got to dance with them, sing to them, look them in the eye, look oh-so-sexy in a wetsuit and have an unforgettable afternoon. Not being waterproof and thus not being terribly enamoured by the sea, my camera wasn't taken along with me so I have no pictures of the underwater shenanigans. But you can imagine the dolphins and what it's like to swim with them. And you can see pictures of me in a wetsuit!
Final destination, then - Christchurch. After hitching a lift back to Christchurch with lovely Phil from the hostel, I have spent the last few days whiling away the hours in Christchurch. It's about the least Kiwi city you can find in NZ - no activities, very few scenic views etc. However, it is very like England. There is a Gloucester Street, a Cambridge Terrace, and Oxford Street and Manchester Street. The river Avon winds its way through the city, complete with punts, and passing an arts centre which is so Oxbridge-college that the lack of toffee-nosed posh-types in it is almost disconcerting. That said, although almost everyone told me that Christchurch was boring and there was nothing to do, I have successfully managed to get my hair cut, see many art galleries, go to a cathedral and a museum, have a huge Hallowe'en party where my attempt to be a goth was thwarted by my blonde hair, wander the botanical gardens and try to plan how to earn money in Oz. I must earn money in Oz to relieve current state of destitution and vagabondery in an attempt to facilitate further travel...I will definitely miss NZ, land of incredibly beauty and amazing activities...I imagine that Sydney, where I will fly this afternoon, will be a very different experience to NZ - not nearly so exciting or varied...but we shall see, and I will inform you thereof anon...
Muchos loves to everyone
xxx
Link to Kaikoura and Christchurch pics - http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2179635&l=243fb&id=36900740
Well - it's been a beautiful, long and scenic ride in the south island of New Zealand, or Aotearoa ( in Maori), the Land of the Long White Cloud. The prettiness that is the south island started with a ferry crossing from Wellington to Picton across a rather gorgeous seascape (most of which I missed because I was asleep) which ended dramatically with sheer cliff faces rising from the sea (which I also missed, also due to my submission to seratonin). I saw the pictures though, courtesy of new-found amazing and lovely person James, and felt suitably silly for having failed to see it. The first stop in the south island, however, was stunningly picturesque as well, so i don't feel I missed out too much. Nelson, the supposed centre of New Zealand, is a vineyard paradise of sunny weather and pretty mountains and hippy organic foods, and just happens to be next to the Abel Tasman national park. After a wander to the centre point of NZ to so the touristy picture thing, the Kiwi Experience posse and I enjoyed a few quiet drinks in the most English pub outside England, The Prince Albert, and stayed in rather posh rooms with power showers :-) The following day saw the first activity of the South - I went kayaking in Abel Tasman along a coastline of picture perfect beaches and was lucky enough to kayak alongside seals and see penguins, which was pretty cool. A stopover in a hut in the park allowed me and my compatriots, Woody, Duncan and Alison, to trek back through the park the following day, which was also pretty cool. What was NOT cool, however, was getting bitten to shit by bed bugs in the hut. Not cool at all - and two weeks, 4 types of antihistamine, and an entire tube of aloe vera later, the 150 odd bites I was so lovingly given are finally disappearing. Still, I think I can call myself a traveller now - a proper, bonifide, bed-bug-bitten traveller. I am also a expert on bedbugs, which is great.
After the two-day Abel Tasman trek, we headed back to Nelson for a night out, followed by a mooch around Nelson's amazing market the following morning. There were crafts, jade stone, bone and paua shell jewelry, yummy organic foods, locally grown fruit and veg, and many very smiley and happy people being exceptionally helfpul. I love Kiwis. The next stop was in Westport, an old mining town on the West Coast, and was very uneventful, apart from watching England lose the rugby - never a good thing. So, a coach load of disappointed English set off for the next stopover, via a coastal walk along the nearest point to Australia. If you looked really, really hard on a very clear day, you'd still have no chance in hell of seeing Oz. Lake Mahinapua was the next pit stop, and as a place was as uneventful as Westport. However, due to the cunning plan of Steve - The Most Amazing Kiwi Bus Driver Ever - a party involving everyone dressing up in outfits entirely constructed from plastic bags ensured an evening of raucousness and revelry ensued. I dressed as a pirate (obviously), and I had a hat, and a hook like Captain Hook, and a parrot called Long John after Long John Silver, and a parchment of buried treasure. I looked oh-so-beautiful, and joined a horde of variously attired friends masquerading as skydivers, cows, mummies, zebras, Little Red Riding Hood, a cupcake, and other such delights. See the pics.
Continuining with the journey down the west coast, Franz Josef Galcier was next on the cards. Unforntunately my plan to hike on the glacier and get a close-up view were scuppered by the skiing injury to my knee, so I had to make do with being bed-bug-bite-covered and somewhat tearful at the hostel instead. I did get to hike up to the glacier, but I was still pretty disappointed not to be able to check it out properly. Ah well...I saw some pictures, had a lovely hike to it with Claudia the Columbian, and had some time to wash and dry all my clothes etc. to rid myself of the evil bedbugs. By comparison, the subsequent stop in Wanaka was darn groovy. Lake Wanaka followed in the trend of NZ scenic-ness by being utterly gorgeous, surrounded by mountains and blue sky and all that. We had yet another night out (see a theme emerging here?) and also got to go to Puzzling World where we were confused by the optical illusions and had our hung-over logic challenged by various puzzles and mazes. By comparison to Wanaka, nevertheless, next stop Queenstown was even more fabulous. Queenstown is marvellous. It surrounded by snow-capped mountains, has a serene lake, has gorgeous gardens to stroll around, the weather was great, the sky was blue, the birds were singing...the usual. Furthermore, Queenstown is filled with great bars, good places to eat, all the backpackers you could ever want, and is the activity hive of New Zealand. Adrenaline junkies can attempt skydives, bungi jumps, paragliding, parasailing, canyon swinging, and all manner of other exciting activities. I did luging - which is basically go-karting down a hill and racing people at dangerous speeds. Having nearly run out of money, though, I was restrained on the activity front and chose instead to spend my time and money imbibing various beverages with lovely people and navigating my way around a dorm room so messy it could have been a Tracy Emmins piece. But Queenstown was awesome. Sweet as...
In order to reach the final destination of my Kiwi Experience ticket, Christchurch, we embarked on an epic 8 hour bus ride and had a glimpse of Mount Cook en route. Apparently it's in Lord of the Rings. But I don't like Lord of the Rings, so I wouldn't know really. It was very pretty. It is the tallest mountain in NZ, fact fans. Even though Christchurch was my last official stop, I managed to get an add-on to head up to Kaikoura. Kaikoura was, again, very scenic and pretty - mountains, sea, blue sky, yada, yada, yada...but here I managed to do one of my favouritest things ever - swimming with dolphins :-) I got to dance with them, sing to them, look them in the eye, look oh-so-sexy in a wetsuit and have an unforgettable afternoon. Not being waterproof and thus not being terribly enamoured by the sea, my camera wasn't taken along with me so I have no pictures of the underwater shenanigans. But you can imagine the dolphins and what it's like to swim with them. And you can see pictures of me in a wetsuit!
Final destination, then - Christchurch. After hitching a lift back to Christchurch with lovely Phil from the hostel, I have spent the last few days whiling away the hours in Christchurch. It's about the least Kiwi city you can find in NZ - no activities, very few scenic views etc. However, it is very like England. There is a Gloucester Street, a Cambridge Terrace, and Oxford Street and Manchester Street. The river Avon winds its way through the city, complete with punts, and passing an arts centre which is so Oxbridge-college that the lack of toffee-nosed posh-types in it is almost disconcerting. That said, although almost everyone told me that Christchurch was boring and there was nothing to do, I have successfully managed to get my hair cut, see many art galleries, go to a cathedral and a museum, have a huge Hallowe'en party where my attempt to be a goth was thwarted by my blonde hair, wander the botanical gardens and try to plan how to earn money in Oz. I must earn money in Oz to relieve current state of destitution and vagabondery in an attempt to facilitate further travel...I will definitely miss NZ, land of incredibly beauty and amazing activities...I imagine that Sydney, where I will fly this afternoon, will be a very different experience to NZ - not nearly so exciting or varied...but we shall see, and I will inform you thereof anon...
Muchos loves to everyone
xxx
Link to Kaikoura and Christchurch pics - http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2179635&l=243fb&id=36900740
Tuesday, 16 October 2007
NZ - the Kiwi Ezperience of the North Island
Hello again,
Firstly, thanks to those of you who dropped notes on my blog or emailed me. It's much appreciated and I now feel ever so slightly less as though I am going dippy by talking to myself. I have been doing a lot of talking to myself recently, though, mainly on account of doing various reckless and death-defying, and dippy stunts in New Zealand's north island, many of which have weird and wacky names, and all of which will be detailed below, henceforth, forthwith, something or other. Yes.
Soooooo - New Zealand. Just like home, but better! The first couple of days were spent relaxing with lil sis Sarah and Pete - braving the dizzying heights of the Sky Tower's revolving restaurant and chilling (literally) in the Minus 5 bar, where everything but everything is sculpted from ice at a chilly temperature (you guessed it!) of -5. The Aucklanders overwhelmed me once more by exactly how mean we Brits are in comparison to the rest of the world by being exceptionally friendly and helpful. The lady at the pharmacy insisted on giving me an entire bag of testers so I didn't have to buy products, just because I am travelling. How lovely! I didn't have too much time to mosey on down with the locals though before I booked myself onto the Kiwi Experience bus and scooted up north to the stunning Bay of Islands. The drive up there was pretty awesome - it can only really be described as Wales on Speed: rolling hills, green valleys covered in sheep, a few extinct volcanoes, hillsides with serated edges, palm trees dotted here and there. Just like home, but kinda trippy. Nice. Anyway...I teamed up with a few fellow Kiwi Experience bus buddies to take a trip around the islands on a super fast jet boat called the Excitor (cue exciting sounding music) before making a very quick departure and heading south again to Whangarei. Now Whangarei (pronounced Fan-ga-ray) was a rather special experience. I got to catch up with some old family friends, Jonathan and Jo, and their fantastic kids Zara, Caleb and Cheyenne. We had a 'bbq' (bring your own food and share it with loads of friends), I got to eat home made cake, Cheyenne and I had lots of hugs, Zara shamed me with her culinary brilliance by making The Best Chocolate Cake Ever (she also tried to bridge some gaps in my upbringing by showing me how to crochet - why didn't you ever show me that, Mum!?), and Caleb taught me some great Maori songs. In fact, Zara and Caleb were incredibly well informed for 9 and 6 year olds, respectively, and told me all about Maori culture and NZ'z native birds and trees. It was wonderful to have a day of normality in amongst all the backpacker bustle - and Zara, I will be sending you a postcard soon, promise!
I spent the last few hours in Whangarei getting sunburnt through factor 30 on a four hour hike on which I got lost by a river. Then I went back to Auckland to kill a day or so waiting for the next bus. I checked out Auckland Museum and had a 3 hour wander around the gardens in the Auckland Domain, and caught up on some kip before my early morning pick up to go to Mercury Bay. This little stopover got the group on the bus to gel a bit as we walked through a pitch black train tunnel by a river gorge, as you do, and walked down to Cathedral Cove to watch some waves and reflect on the world. Link to pictures below. After Mercury Bay, I spent a couple of days in Rotorua. And this is where the real fun begins :-) Firstly, Rotorua is a pretty exciting place in itself. Positioned on an area where the earth's crust is particularly thin, there is some rather cool volcanic activity happening there. Geysers, mudpools, steam holes, pools of laughing gas, thermal bathing pools, and, oh yes, a constant smell of sulphur EVERYWHERE. Aside from the perpetual smell of rotten egg/farts, however, Rotorua was also an adventure activity hub. There I commenced my road to insanity with agro-jetting, swooping and zorbing. Yup. You read them right. The Kiwis have indeed created three new sports all of which known by a name fitting to their wackiness and riskiness. Let me explain. Number one: agro-jetting. Speeding round a man made water maze in a speed boat going at 100 kmph. Crashing into every available corner compulsory. Number two: swooping. Being strapped into a sleeping back with 2 friends, hoisted up a 100m crane attached to a bungy, pulling a cord and being allowed to 'swoop' down perilously towards impending death (well, until the bungy kicks in). Panicked screaming inevitable. Number three: zorbing. Putting onself in a giant inflatable ball, filling with water and rolling down a hill. The most fun you can have with your clothes on. Apparently. I did all of these. The other highlight of Rotorua was learning about Maori culture. We got to go to a Maori museum, and take part in the Maori Experience. It was an albeit touristy but very informative evening in which we participated in hangi (pronounced hungi), a traditional feast cooked under ground, witnessed some Maori singing, dancing, weaving and a huka. The photos do the evening no justice, but it was rather fun - the best bit was getting roast dinner with stuffing and gravy!
After relaxing in some geyser pools in Rotorua, the next stop was Waitomo for a bit of caving. Black water rafting, as it is called, consisted of plunging into the icy depths of underground caves, floating around in inner tubes and staring up at the ceilings of night-time-sky-like glow-worms. Sane. And then we warmed up with some soup and bagels, saw a rainbow on the bus journey back and got cozy in the fabulously comfy chalet rooms of our hostel :-) Continuing the whistle-stop tour of the North, Taupo was next on the menu. It was here I saw fit to throw myself out of a plane 15000 feet in the air. Insane - but *incredible*. Definitely *the* best activity I have done. As I was garbed in an attractive blue jumpsuit, I was pushed out of a plane by Mike to experience an 80 second freefall. I saw Lake Taupo looming up at me, with the east coast of NZ to one side and the west to the other, and a big blanket of fluffy white cloud zooming towards me at 200 km per hour. The kookiest concoction of drugs floods into your brain - dopamine, adrenaline, seratonin - and you feel literally on top of the world. A little paraglide to bring you back down to earth, and you just want to do it again. It's amazing. Brilliant. Awesome. Fantastic. Dvd and pictures of My Suicide Attempt below :-D
Well, after Taupo's main event of My Suicide Attempt, aka skydive, the four hour hike new-found-friend Max and I went on to some natural thermal springs, the sublimely blue Huka Falls, a prawn farm and a hydor-electric dam topped the day of smashing-like. River Valley, our next stop, was a bit more subdued, however. Having spent a chunk of money on the skydive, I forwent the white water rafting (the water was cold too!) and instead busied myself with crossing the river by flying fox, hiking up the other side, playing trivial pursuits and giant jenga, and teaching Capitalism (card game) to the rest of the bored and restless in the lodge. With nothing more noteworthy to say about River Valley, I will pass onto our journey to windy Wellington. Here we stopped off at the little town of Bulls, where the locals clearly have far too much time on their hands (or a quirky sense of humour) as the police station was dubbed Consta-Bull, the bins labelled 'be reponsi-bull' and the antique store named 'collecti-bulls'. Hilarious. Anyhooo - next stop, Wellington. It is very windy. Anyone who values their hairstyle should not venture to Wellington, and visitors should consider wearing hard hats and heavy shoes in an attempt to combat the probability of being swept away and hitting one's head on a nearby lampost. This happened to me today. Other than the wind/head encounter, though, I had a nice day climbing up Mount Victoria, moseying in the botanical gardens, and being a culture vulture in the national musem, Te Papa. Lurvely.
And now, dear readers, I have reached the end of the tale so far, for the exciting adventures of the South Islands have not yet been written, and there is nothing for it but to post up the links to hundreds and hundreds of photos which you may or may not care to view. But please watch My Suicide Attempt. It validates my having done something death-defying to know people actually care whether I lived or not (which I evidently did, otherwise I wouldn't be writing this...but watch it anyway).
La Paz and Bolivia - http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2167055&l=f6975&id=36900740
The Salt Flats, Bolivia - http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2167058&l=af7bf&id=36900740
Paraguay - http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2167063&l=0d5d5&id=36900740
Iguazu Falls - http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2167071&l=27fa5&id=36900740
Buenos Aires 1 - http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2167078&l=a10a2&id=36900740
Buenos Aires 2 - http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2167085&l=572a3&id=36900740
Uruguay - http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2167089&l=13fa2&id=36900740
Bariloche - http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2167092&l=c43eb&id=36900740
Mendoza and paragliding - http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2174117&l=1de53&id=36900740
Possibly the most scenic journey in the world, Mendoza to Santiago - http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2174119&l=2cb93&id=36900740
Chile - http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2174120&l=0f1dc&id=36900740
Auckland, Whangarei, Bay of Islands - http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2174121&l=7f9c1&id=36900740
With Sarah in Auckland - http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2174123&l=4a72e&id=36900740
Mercury Bay, Cathedral Cove, Rotorua - http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2174126&l=ce3a1&id=36900740
Taupo - http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2174130&l=ff66e&id=36900740
My Suicide Attempt - 'official' photographs - http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2174132&l=99233&id=36900740
My Suicide Attempt (aka, SKYDIVE!!!) - http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2174128&l=aa204&id=36900740
SKYDIVE DVD - I have just been told by the internet man that I can't upload it here. I'll let your suspense brew a bit, and put in in the next blog :-)
Toodle-oo
H xxx
Firstly, thanks to those of you who dropped notes on my blog or emailed me. It's much appreciated and I now feel ever so slightly less as though I am going dippy by talking to myself. I have been doing a lot of talking to myself recently, though, mainly on account of doing various reckless and death-defying, and dippy stunts in New Zealand's north island, many of which have weird and wacky names, and all of which will be detailed below, henceforth, forthwith, something or other. Yes.
Soooooo - New Zealand. Just like home, but better! The first couple of days were spent relaxing with lil sis Sarah and Pete - braving the dizzying heights of the Sky Tower's revolving restaurant and chilling (literally) in the Minus 5 bar, where everything but everything is sculpted from ice at a chilly temperature (you guessed it!) of -5. The Aucklanders overwhelmed me once more by exactly how mean we Brits are in comparison to the rest of the world by being exceptionally friendly and helpful. The lady at the pharmacy insisted on giving me an entire bag of testers so I didn't have to buy products, just because I am travelling. How lovely! I didn't have too much time to mosey on down with the locals though before I booked myself onto the Kiwi Experience bus and scooted up north to the stunning Bay of Islands. The drive up there was pretty awesome - it can only really be described as Wales on Speed: rolling hills, green valleys covered in sheep, a few extinct volcanoes, hillsides with serated edges, palm trees dotted here and there. Just like home, but kinda trippy. Nice. Anyway...I teamed up with a few fellow Kiwi Experience bus buddies to take a trip around the islands on a super fast jet boat called the Excitor (cue exciting sounding music) before making a very quick departure and heading south again to Whangarei. Now Whangarei (pronounced Fan-ga-ray) was a rather special experience. I got to catch up with some old family friends, Jonathan and Jo, and their fantastic kids Zara, Caleb and Cheyenne. We had a 'bbq' (bring your own food and share it with loads of friends), I got to eat home made cake, Cheyenne and I had lots of hugs, Zara shamed me with her culinary brilliance by making The Best Chocolate Cake Ever (she also tried to bridge some gaps in my upbringing by showing me how to crochet - why didn't you ever show me that, Mum!?), and Caleb taught me some great Maori songs. In fact, Zara and Caleb were incredibly well informed for 9 and 6 year olds, respectively, and told me all about Maori culture and NZ'z native birds and trees. It was wonderful to have a day of normality in amongst all the backpacker bustle - and Zara, I will be sending you a postcard soon, promise!
I spent the last few hours in Whangarei getting sunburnt through factor 30 on a four hour hike on which I got lost by a river. Then I went back to Auckland to kill a day or so waiting for the next bus. I checked out Auckland Museum and had a 3 hour wander around the gardens in the Auckland Domain, and caught up on some kip before my early morning pick up to go to Mercury Bay. This little stopover got the group on the bus to gel a bit as we walked through a pitch black train tunnel by a river gorge, as you do, and walked down to Cathedral Cove to watch some waves and reflect on the world. Link to pictures below. After Mercury Bay, I spent a couple of days in Rotorua. And this is where the real fun begins :-) Firstly, Rotorua is a pretty exciting place in itself. Positioned on an area where the earth's crust is particularly thin, there is some rather cool volcanic activity happening there. Geysers, mudpools, steam holes, pools of laughing gas, thermal bathing pools, and, oh yes, a constant smell of sulphur EVERYWHERE. Aside from the perpetual smell of rotten egg/farts, however, Rotorua was also an adventure activity hub. There I commenced my road to insanity with agro-jetting, swooping and zorbing. Yup. You read them right. The Kiwis have indeed created three new sports all of which known by a name fitting to their wackiness and riskiness. Let me explain. Number one: agro-jetting. Speeding round a man made water maze in a speed boat going at 100 kmph. Crashing into every available corner compulsory. Number two: swooping. Being strapped into a sleeping back with 2 friends, hoisted up a 100m crane attached to a bungy, pulling a cord and being allowed to 'swoop' down perilously towards impending death (well, until the bungy kicks in). Panicked screaming inevitable. Number three: zorbing. Putting onself in a giant inflatable ball, filling with water and rolling down a hill. The most fun you can have with your clothes on. Apparently. I did all of these. The other highlight of Rotorua was learning about Maori culture. We got to go to a Maori museum, and take part in the Maori Experience. It was an albeit touristy but very informative evening in which we participated in hangi (pronounced hungi), a traditional feast cooked under ground, witnessed some Maori singing, dancing, weaving and a huka. The photos do the evening no justice, but it was rather fun - the best bit was getting roast dinner with stuffing and gravy!
After relaxing in some geyser pools in Rotorua, the next stop was Waitomo for a bit of caving. Black water rafting, as it is called, consisted of plunging into the icy depths of underground caves, floating around in inner tubes and staring up at the ceilings of night-time-sky-like glow-worms. Sane. And then we warmed up with some soup and bagels, saw a rainbow on the bus journey back and got cozy in the fabulously comfy chalet rooms of our hostel :-) Continuing the whistle-stop tour of the North, Taupo was next on the menu. It was here I saw fit to throw myself out of a plane 15000 feet in the air. Insane - but *incredible*. Definitely *the* best activity I have done. As I was garbed in an attractive blue jumpsuit, I was pushed out of a plane by Mike to experience an 80 second freefall. I saw Lake Taupo looming up at me, with the east coast of NZ to one side and the west to the other, and a big blanket of fluffy white cloud zooming towards me at 200 km per hour. The kookiest concoction of drugs floods into your brain - dopamine, adrenaline, seratonin - and you feel literally on top of the world. A little paraglide to bring you back down to earth, and you just want to do it again. It's amazing. Brilliant. Awesome. Fantastic. Dvd and pictures of My Suicide Attempt below :-D
Well, after Taupo's main event of My Suicide Attempt, aka skydive, the four hour hike new-found-friend Max and I went on to some natural thermal springs, the sublimely blue Huka Falls, a prawn farm and a hydor-electric dam topped the day of smashing-like. River Valley, our next stop, was a bit more subdued, however. Having spent a chunk of money on the skydive, I forwent the white water rafting (the water was cold too!) and instead busied myself with crossing the river by flying fox, hiking up the other side, playing trivial pursuits and giant jenga, and teaching Capitalism (card game) to the rest of the bored and restless in the lodge. With nothing more noteworthy to say about River Valley, I will pass onto our journey to windy Wellington. Here we stopped off at the little town of Bulls, where the locals clearly have far too much time on their hands (or a quirky sense of humour) as the police station was dubbed Consta-Bull, the bins labelled 'be reponsi-bull' and the antique store named 'collecti-bulls'. Hilarious. Anyhooo - next stop, Wellington. It is very windy. Anyone who values their hairstyle should not venture to Wellington, and visitors should consider wearing hard hats and heavy shoes in an attempt to combat the probability of being swept away and hitting one's head on a nearby lampost. This happened to me today. Other than the wind/head encounter, though, I had a nice day climbing up Mount Victoria, moseying in the botanical gardens, and being a culture vulture in the national musem, Te Papa. Lurvely.
And now, dear readers, I have reached the end of the tale so far, for the exciting adventures of the South Islands have not yet been written, and there is nothing for it but to post up the links to hundreds and hundreds of photos which you may or may not care to view. But please watch My Suicide Attempt. It validates my having done something death-defying to know people actually care whether I lived or not (which I evidently did, otherwise I wouldn't be writing this...but watch it anyway).
La Paz and Bolivia - http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2167055&l=f6975&id=36900740
The Salt Flats, Bolivia - http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2167058&l=af7bf&id=36900740
Paraguay - http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2167063&l=0d5d5&id=36900740
Iguazu Falls - http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2167071&l=27fa5&id=36900740
Buenos Aires 1 - http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2167078&l=a10a2&id=36900740
Buenos Aires 2 - http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2167085&l=572a3&id=36900740
Uruguay - http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2167089&l=13fa2&id=36900740
Bariloche - http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2167092&l=c43eb&id=36900740
Mendoza and paragliding - http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2174117&l=1de53&id=36900740
Possibly the most scenic journey in the world, Mendoza to Santiago - http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2174119&l=2cb93&id=36900740
Chile - http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2174120&l=0f1dc&id=36900740
Auckland, Whangarei, Bay of Islands - http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2174121&l=7f9c1&id=36900740
With Sarah in Auckland - http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2174123&l=4a72e&id=36900740
Mercury Bay, Cathedral Cove, Rotorua - http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2174126&l=ce3a1&id=36900740
Taupo - http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2174130&l=ff66e&id=36900740
My Suicide Attempt - 'official' photographs - http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2174132&l=99233&id=36900740
My Suicide Attempt (aka, SKYDIVE!!!) - http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2174128&l=aa204&id=36900740
SKYDIVE DVD - I have just been told by the internet man that I can't upload it here. I'll let your suspense brew a bit, and put in in the next blog :-)
Toodle-oo
H xxx
Tuesday, 2 October 2007
The End of South America
Hi-di-hi,
Oh dear. I think I may have jinxed myself with that last blog entry. I did indeed hit the slopes of Bariloche, and did indeed accordingly injure myself spectacularly while trying new sports, just as predicted. It's such a pity because it all started so well. Day one - Valerie the Argentinian and I had some amusing first lessons, falling over and causing general havoc on the beautiful white mountains of Catedral by bumping 'accidentally' into various good looking skiers, requesting politely to be aided to our feet and flashing winning smiles as we skied elegantly away (yeah, right!). Day two - I had a fantastic morning and most-part of afternoon testing out my new-found favourite sport, progressing from the green easy trails to the blue intermediate trails with ease and having an adrenaline-packed time stumbling gracefully down the pistes. Until, that is, disaster struck in the shape of bad visibility (it was snowing), me going one way, my skis going another, and my left knee making a break for freedom in a completely opposite direction. This all necessitated a pair of rather lovely Argetinian paramedics to come dashing to my rescue, and the whole day ended excitingly with me being carried down the mountain-side in a stretcher. Hmmm...
Despite the fact that the ski injury resulted in me having to change my plans quite considerably (not going south to the glaciers and to hike in Southern Chile, but staying in Bariloche for 10 days to nurse the knee), this turned out not to be such a bad thing after all. Thanks to the indomitably good company of Will and Pete, and the newly acquired friendship from my Bariloche Boys, Skylar and Adrian, I rather liked my untimely convalescence. I got to watch some DVDs, finally get to see Borat (whose catch phrases have now become part of my everyday vocabulary), get facturas filled with delicious dulce de leche bought for me by considerate companions, immerse myself in hostel culture (including a rather dubious dinner each evening), drink inadvisable quantities of fine, cheap Argentinian wine and test out some more of Bariloche's famous chocolate. It's a hard life! I did also, I should add, get out on a few trips once I could walk again. These included a horse riding expedition on Pampa, my sure-footed mare, up a mountain side, from which I saw some of the most spectacular lake and mountain views conceivable and bigged up my gaucha (female cowboy) status in true Latin American style (i.e. with a sultry smile and sexy side-kick). I chilled out with some Germans by the lake side, went on some light hikes to black glaciers. I managed a trip to Isla Victoria as well, where the obscenely gorgeous views were only marred slightly by the excessively commercialised boat-ride there. I even got to see some giant sequoia redwoods there which have been introduced from California. Bizarre! Reminded me of Yosemite, though - my favourite place in the whole wide world - and made me want to go back there badly.
It wasn't all chilling out in Bariloche though, learning to gamble through Texas Holdup and perfecting various other vices (don't worry Grandma - nothing too serious and nothing imprisonable) - I also went to nearby El Bolson for a day with Skylar the Californian rafting guide and Adrian the Ozzie exceedingly un-mathmo-ish mathmo. Whatthe Lonely Planet promised to be a hippy-loving, artisanal craft-fair filled, while-food loving beer-fest with a happening vibe actually turned out to be nothing too special. A few crafts here and there and a band in the main square was about all it summed up to and the bus breaking down by a picturesque mountain lake turned out the be the day's highlight! Still, a hotfooted return to Bariloche saw some more high-style fun and frolics (well, drinks in the bar and a visit to the Irish bar Wilkenny's and reggae club) and a return to some friends I met in BA, Katy and Laura. So not a bad way for things to turn out really. And a very welcome break to be able to spend time in one place and get to know some people and the town properly. Plus, it was warm. Argentina's massive gas reserves mean that all indoor places in southern cold climates are roasty as a toasty thing on a fire. Nice.
After Bariloche I headed straight up to Mendoza. A rather inspiring bus journey, through Mars-like red-rock landscape, watching a husky, dusty red sunset seep behind dusky mountains lit by a full moon looming whistfully above led me right to the heart of Argentina's biggest wine producing area. Accordingly, the first activity continued in the vein of my Bariloche exploits with me sampling the delights of the vine in various Mendoza wineries. With excellent wine, excellent company from Clare, Adam, Caiore and Jim, and an excellent chocolate factory visit to end the day, the first excursion was, well, excellent. The following day was yet more excellent, however, with a paragliding trip over the Andes. It was mindblowing. To see the mountains from a bird's eye perspective was exhilarating to say the least. There are definitely not enough mountains in the UK...I am currently masterminding my move (in later life) to somewhere more beautiful and mountain and river filled where I can do fun stuff and not be stuck in an office from 9-5 (pr 9-9 as I'm sure Deloitte will conjole me into enduring). Watch this space. I'll put up pictures soon and you'll see exactly what I mean :-)
Anyway - Mendoza was the last visit in Argentina, and the last bit of solo-travelling I would do in South America. Without getting all soppy and 'deep', I can honestly say that travelling on my own has been one of the best experiences yet. I met kinds of people I thought I would never meet, got taught stuff I never even knew I needed to know, landed in some unique life situations my life so far had no way of affording me...and all of it has been seriously challenging but in the best possible way. I'm definitely digging the travelling vibe (yeah, man...) Hmmm....sort of.
Last stop in South America was Chile, and the most mind-blowingly scenic bus journey to get there ever, ever, ever. Mountains, and more mountains, and snow, and more snow and mountains covered in snow...pictures to follow. I spent a day in vibrant Valparaiso with Pete and some friends from Buenos Aires, being aided at every turn by the exceptionally helpful and talkative Chileans, the best of whom was undoubtedly Juan, who befriended us in a bar and drunkenly chatted to us about how good friends Chile and England were for at least, oh, 4 hours! The next couple of days were spent enjoying Santiago with picnics and park-visits, rounding off the trip to South America. And now, dearest readers, if you are still reading by this point, I am, after a 13 hour flight and losing the whole of October 2nd through time-difference, sitting in Auckland, New Zealand...
...and the story will continue...soon...
love for now - Helen xxx
PS - drop a note on this if you've read it. Or drop me an email. I don't really mind talking to myself (in fact it's pretty usual really), but it would be nice to know...
Oh dear. I think I may have jinxed myself with that last blog entry. I did indeed hit the slopes of Bariloche, and did indeed accordingly injure myself spectacularly while trying new sports, just as predicted. It's such a pity because it all started so well. Day one - Valerie the Argentinian and I had some amusing first lessons, falling over and causing general havoc on the beautiful white mountains of Catedral by bumping 'accidentally' into various good looking skiers, requesting politely to be aided to our feet and flashing winning smiles as we skied elegantly away (yeah, right!). Day two - I had a fantastic morning and most-part of afternoon testing out my new-found favourite sport, progressing from the green easy trails to the blue intermediate trails with ease and having an adrenaline-packed time stumbling gracefully down the pistes. Until, that is, disaster struck in the shape of bad visibility (it was snowing), me going one way, my skis going another, and my left knee making a break for freedom in a completely opposite direction. This all necessitated a pair of rather lovely Argetinian paramedics to come dashing to my rescue, and the whole day ended excitingly with me being carried down the mountain-side in a stretcher. Hmmm...
Despite the fact that the ski injury resulted in me having to change my plans quite considerably (not going south to the glaciers and to hike in Southern Chile, but staying in Bariloche for 10 days to nurse the knee), this turned out not to be such a bad thing after all. Thanks to the indomitably good company of Will and Pete, and the newly acquired friendship from my Bariloche Boys, Skylar and Adrian, I rather liked my untimely convalescence. I got to watch some DVDs, finally get to see Borat (whose catch phrases have now become part of my everyday vocabulary), get facturas filled with delicious dulce de leche bought for me by considerate companions, immerse myself in hostel culture (including a rather dubious dinner each evening), drink inadvisable quantities of fine, cheap Argentinian wine and test out some more of Bariloche's famous chocolate. It's a hard life! I did also, I should add, get out on a few trips once I could walk again. These included a horse riding expedition on Pampa, my sure-footed mare, up a mountain side, from which I saw some of the most spectacular lake and mountain views conceivable and bigged up my gaucha (female cowboy) status in true Latin American style (i.e. with a sultry smile and sexy side-kick). I chilled out with some Germans by the lake side, went on some light hikes to black glaciers. I managed a trip to Isla Victoria as well, where the obscenely gorgeous views were only marred slightly by the excessively commercialised boat-ride there. I even got to see some giant sequoia redwoods there which have been introduced from California. Bizarre! Reminded me of Yosemite, though - my favourite place in the whole wide world - and made me want to go back there badly.
It wasn't all chilling out in Bariloche though, learning to gamble through Texas Holdup and perfecting various other vices (don't worry Grandma - nothing too serious and nothing imprisonable) - I also went to nearby El Bolson for a day with Skylar the Californian rafting guide and Adrian the Ozzie exceedingly un-mathmo-ish mathmo. Whatthe Lonely Planet promised to be a hippy-loving, artisanal craft-fair filled, while-food loving beer-fest with a happening vibe actually turned out to be nothing too special. A few crafts here and there and a band in the main square was about all it summed up to and the bus breaking down by a picturesque mountain lake turned out the be the day's highlight! Still, a hotfooted return to Bariloche saw some more high-style fun and frolics (well, drinks in the bar and a visit to the Irish bar Wilkenny's and reggae club) and a return to some friends I met in BA, Katy and Laura. So not a bad way for things to turn out really. And a very welcome break to be able to spend time in one place and get to know some people and the town properly. Plus, it was warm. Argentina's massive gas reserves mean that all indoor places in southern cold climates are roasty as a toasty thing on a fire. Nice.
After Bariloche I headed straight up to Mendoza. A rather inspiring bus journey, through Mars-like red-rock landscape, watching a husky, dusty red sunset seep behind dusky mountains lit by a full moon looming whistfully above led me right to the heart of Argentina's biggest wine producing area. Accordingly, the first activity continued in the vein of my Bariloche exploits with me sampling the delights of the vine in various Mendoza wineries. With excellent wine, excellent company from Clare, Adam, Caiore and Jim, and an excellent chocolate factory visit to end the day, the first excursion was, well, excellent. The following day was yet more excellent, however, with a paragliding trip over the Andes. It was mindblowing. To see the mountains from a bird's eye perspective was exhilarating to say the least. There are definitely not enough mountains in the UK...I am currently masterminding my move (in later life) to somewhere more beautiful and mountain and river filled where I can do fun stuff and not be stuck in an office from 9-5 (pr 9-9 as I'm sure Deloitte will conjole me into enduring). Watch this space. I'll put up pictures soon and you'll see exactly what I mean :-)
Anyway - Mendoza was the last visit in Argentina, and the last bit of solo-travelling I would do in South America. Without getting all soppy and 'deep', I can honestly say that travelling on my own has been one of the best experiences yet. I met kinds of people I thought I would never meet, got taught stuff I never even knew I needed to know, landed in some unique life situations my life so far had no way of affording me...and all of it has been seriously challenging but in the best possible way. I'm definitely digging the travelling vibe (yeah, man...) Hmmm....sort of.
Last stop in South America was Chile, and the most mind-blowingly scenic bus journey to get there ever, ever, ever. Mountains, and more mountains, and snow, and more snow and mountains covered in snow...pictures to follow. I spent a day in vibrant Valparaiso with Pete and some friends from Buenos Aires, being aided at every turn by the exceptionally helpful and talkative Chileans, the best of whom was undoubtedly Juan, who befriended us in a bar and drunkenly chatted to us about how good friends Chile and England were for at least, oh, 4 hours! The next couple of days were spent enjoying Santiago with picnics and park-visits, rounding off the trip to South America. And now, dearest readers, if you are still reading by this point, I am, after a 13 hour flight and losing the whole of October 2nd through time-difference, sitting in Auckland, New Zealand...
...and the story will continue...soon...
love for now - Helen xxx
PS - drop a note on this if you've read it. Or drop me an email. I don't really mind talking to myself (in fact it's pretty usual really), but it would be nice to know...
Saturday, 15 September 2007
Tales of Buenos Aires, Uruguay and chocolatey delights
Hello,
The Awesomeness of Buenos Aires. It is awesome in many ways, namely the steak, the wine, the people, the sights, the night life, the history, the steak, the travellers, the museums, the atmosphere, the tango, the steak, the wine, the steak...(guess what I have been mostly eating since I got here!) After a good two weeks in this most wonderful of cities I could proudly list for you the things which I have enjoyed most. However, such a list would entail only the repetition of two things on the above list: wine and steak. Which is not to say I did not enjoy the other things I did, which were also awesome. But the steak and wine were amazing. I realise, nonetheless, that you might also appreciate a little insight into the other excellent things about Buenos Aires. So here goes...
Buenos Aires is a pretty darned cool place. The atmosphere is very cosmopolitan, very European, very multicultural. In fact, due to the Spanish and Italian heritage it is almost an extension of Europe and certainly has a very different feel to the rest of South America. You can get shower gel, brown bread and other such western delights, and even (albeit terrible tasting as it is made in Brazil) Cadbury´s! And they know how to make a proper cup of coffee. Gone are the days of Ecuadorian ashtray-flavoured instant coffee with a sprinkling of powdered milk. Gone are the days of coffee gloop reminiscent of congealed soya-sauce found in Bolivia which had to be watered down and doused liberally with sugar to make it even partially palatable. And welcome the days when quality caffeine can be relied upon to cure the worst of red-wine hangovers. Beunos Aires is also pretty darned cool because it has so many different areas. For the first stint of my stay I resided in the Clan hostel in the microcentre. A rocking atmosphere and a selection of great new traveller friends were complimented by the great things to see in the neighbourhood. I checked out the Casa Rosada (Argentina´s pink answer to the White House) and saw the Madres (mothers) of the children lost in the Dirty War protest outside it, I saw the congress buildings, and dallied around the most expensive shopping malls salivating lustfully over beautiful leather bags. I also managed to catch a tango show in the rather swish Cafe Tortoni before branching out to visit the area of La Boca - the colourful home to Boca Juniors Football Team and historic birth place of the sultry dance of tango itself. With some new found Israeli friends and the lovely Norweigan Ida and German Claudia, I ticked off another area and sauntered around the middle class gardens of Palermo. Then, with Pete Ross safely sent to Patagonia, the arrival of Peter Goult and his friend Will brought a new selection of exciting things to be done. Firstly, an afternoon trip to see a polo match resulted in sneaking in the back accidentally, then taking full advantage, naturally, of the free wine and beer afterwards. And since then Pete and Will have been doing a splendid job of entertaining me. On Sunday Pete and I mooched around San Telmo (another area - cobbled stones, lovely little squares, rather quaint) antiques market, watching street artists and tango dancers. And on Monday they convinced me to go to Uruguay...
Uruguay. First stop, Colonia. One ferry ride at an unearthly time in the morning later, and we reached a pretty but overly quiet little place where there was little to do, and where it rained. All day. However, given that I have only seen rain twice in the last 3 months though, the novelty of rain only added to what actually turned out to be a rather enteraining day. Faced with next to nothing to do, the impromptu rental of a golf cart enabled us to see the city in style, as well as speeding recklessly at the maximum golf cart velocity of 20 mph, racing other golf cart renters and attempting wheelies and spins on gravelled areas. We found a deserted and dilapedated bull ring, saw a lighthouse, some ruins, and marvelled at the show piece 1.90m walls the guide book raved about. The day was topped off by dining in the excellently converted interior of a 1920s car in a rather eccentric restaurant. As you do. So all in all a good day. Which is more than can be said of Montevideo. Again, it rained. Again, there was nothing to do. We met some friendly South Africans, went to a none existent beach and saw an uninteresting museum of art. And then we went back to BA.
Soooo, back in buzzing Buenos Aires, and we changed hostel to stay in Palermo, where I resumed culture vulture status by visiting the Museum of Belles Artes and the Evita museum, as well as finding a beautiful leather bag, and making a quick re-visit to the microcentre to see some churches. I also resumed my party-animal penchant for a couple of nights, once again consuming more steak than is strictly necessary and imbibing more red wine than is probably wise. Pete turned 23, in aid of which a few screwdrivers and various other cocktails assured he didn`t even make it out of the hostel. So I went out to a club instead to celebrate my last night in BA. Sigh.
And now - one 26 hour bus journey later - I am in Bariloche. The journey was rather scenic, passing expansive plains on which cattle grazed and finally melting into the rolling hills, snow-topped peaks and sparkly lakes of the Lake District. Bariloche itself is wonderful. It is just like Christmas. The streets are lined with log cabins and chocolate shops piled to the ceiling with delicious chocolatey goodness. Mmmmmm...And Bariloche is also a great centre for outdoor activities. Some of the things I would like to do are skiing, snowboarding, hiking, biking, paragliding and horse riding. Not that I will have time to do all of them, or that the (slightly cloudy and drizzly in the town, but nice and snowy in the mountains) weather or my finances will permit me to do everything, but I am having fun deciding which outdoor pursuit injury to acquire first. Watch this space for inevitably hilarious pictures of me failing spectacularly at various new sports (but doing so, naturally, in superlative style). I think I might hit the slopes tomorrow for my first skiing lesson, and in the meantime I will be taking full advantage of the sugary wares of Argentina`s chocolate capital.
xxx
The Awesomeness of Buenos Aires. It is awesome in many ways, namely the steak, the wine, the people, the sights, the night life, the history, the steak, the travellers, the museums, the atmosphere, the tango, the steak, the wine, the steak...(guess what I have been mostly eating since I got here!) After a good two weeks in this most wonderful of cities I could proudly list for you the things which I have enjoyed most. However, such a list would entail only the repetition of two things on the above list: wine and steak. Which is not to say I did not enjoy the other things I did, which were also awesome. But the steak and wine were amazing. I realise, nonetheless, that you might also appreciate a little insight into the other excellent things about Buenos Aires. So here goes...
Buenos Aires is a pretty darned cool place. The atmosphere is very cosmopolitan, very European, very multicultural. In fact, due to the Spanish and Italian heritage it is almost an extension of Europe and certainly has a very different feel to the rest of South America. You can get shower gel, brown bread and other such western delights, and even (albeit terrible tasting as it is made in Brazil) Cadbury´s! And they know how to make a proper cup of coffee. Gone are the days of Ecuadorian ashtray-flavoured instant coffee with a sprinkling of powdered milk. Gone are the days of coffee gloop reminiscent of congealed soya-sauce found in Bolivia which had to be watered down and doused liberally with sugar to make it even partially palatable. And welcome the days when quality caffeine can be relied upon to cure the worst of red-wine hangovers. Beunos Aires is also pretty darned cool because it has so many different areas. For the first stint of my stay I resided in the Clan hostel in the microcentre. A rocking atmosphere and a selection of great new traveller friends were complimented by the great things to see in the neighbourhood. I checked out the Casa Rosada (Argentina´s pink answer to the White House) and saw the Madres (mothers) of the children lost in the Dirty War protest outside it, I saw the congress buildings, and dallied around the most expensive shopping malls salivating lustfully over beautiful leather bags. I also managed to catch a tango show in the rather swish Cafe Tortoni before branching out to visit the area of La Boca - the colourful home to Boca Juniors Football Team and historic birth place of the sultry dance of tango itself. With some new found Israeli friends and the lovely Norweigan Ida and German Claudia, I ticked off another area and sauntered around the middle class gardens of Palermo. Then, with Pete Ross safely sent to Patagonia, the arrival of Peter Goult and his friend Will brought a new selection of exciting things to be done. Firstly, an afternoon trip to see a polo match resulted in sneaking in the back accidentally, then taking full advantage, naturally, of the free wine and beer afterwards. And since then Pete and Will have been doing a splendid job of entertaining me. On Sunday Pete and I mooched around San Telmo (another area - cobbled stones, lovely little squares, rather quaint) antiques market, watching street artists and tango dancers. And on Monday they convinced me to go to Uruguay...
Uruguay. First stop, Colonia. One ferry ride at an unearthly time in the morning later, and we reached a pretty but overly quiet little place where there was little to do, and where it rained. All day. However, given that I have only seen rain twice in the last 3 months though, the novelty of rain only added to what actually turned out to be a rather enteraining day. Faced with next to nothing to do, the impromptu rental of a golf cart enabled us to see the city in style, as well as speeding recklessly at the maximum golf cart velocity of 20 mph, racing other golf cart renters and attempting wheelies and spins on gravelled areas. We found a deserted and dilapedated bull ring, saw a lighthouse, some ruins, and marvelled at the show piece 1.90m walls the guide book raved about. The day was topped off by dining in the excellently converted interior of a 1920s car in a rather eccentric restaurant. As you do. So all in all a good day. Which is more than can be said of Montevideo. Again, it rained. Again, there was nothing to do. We met some friendly South Africans, went to a none existent beach and saw an uninteresting museum of art. And then we went back to BA.
Soooo, back in buzzing Buenos Aires, and we changed hostel to stay in Palermo, where I resumed culture vulture status by visiting the Museum of Belles Artes and the Evita museum, as well as finding a beautiful leather bag, and making a quick re-visit to the microcentre to see some churches. I also resumed my party-animal penchant for a couple of nights, once again consuming more steak than is strictly necessary and imbibing more red wine than is probably wise. Pete turned 23, in aid of which a few screwdrivers and various other cocktails assured he didn`t even make it out of the hostel. So I went out to a club instead to celebrate my last night in BA. Sigh.
And now - one 26 hour bus journey later - I am in Bariloche. The journey was rather scenic, passing expansive plains on which cattle grazed and finally melting into the rolling hills, snow-topped peaks and sparkly lakes of the Lake District. Bariloche itself is wonderful. It is just like Christmas. The streets are lined with log cabins and chocolate shops piled to the ceiling with delicious chocolatey goodness. Mmmmmm...And Bariloche is also a great centre for outdoor activities. Some of the things I would like to do are skiing, snowboarding, hiking, biking, paragliding and horse riding. Not that I will have time to do all of them, or that the (slightly cloudy and drizzly in the town, but nice and snowy in the mountains) weather or my finances will permit me to do everything, but I am having fun deciding which outdoor pursuit injury to acquire first. Watch this space for inevitably hilarious pictures of me failing spectacularly at various new sports (but doing so, naturally, in superlative style). I think I might hit the slopes tomorrow for my first skiing lesson, and in the meantime I will be taking full advantage of the sugary wares of Argentina`s chocolate capital.
xxx
Wednesday, 5 September 2007
On Salt, being a tramp, and the world´s best steak
Afternoon y´all,
Soooo - where was I? Salt Flats. Well, the journey there was a little more tricky than anticipated. What should have been an easy transfer to Uyuni turned into an impromptu stop-over in the tourist-hating hell-hole of Oruro, where we were ripped off, scammed, shunned and scorned and had a thoroughly unpleasant time. This was mainly on account of my inability to move any quicker than a pitiful hobble, thus causing us to missing two buses and me to be unaffectionately renamed ´limpy Longfils´. Anyway, when we finally arrived in Uyuni via nightbus we jumped straight onto a tour of the Salt Flats and sped away to one of the eeriest places in the world. Imagine being in a David Hockney picture entitled White/Blue. That´s the salt flats. Massive expanses (12000 squared km to be exact) of flat, white, 40 thousand year old salt, topped with cloudless blue sky, spreading out in a glittering, glaring, snow-like landscape. We had a lot of fun posing like idiots among the snow mounds, saw a train cemetery and some salt processing, and were whisked off to our salt hotel (a hotel made entirely of salt) by our inept, useless and bolshy guide to spend an afternoon awaiting dinner-time. And there was nothing to do there. After the initial 5 minute long novelty of staying in a salt hotel wore off, we explored the surrounding desolate desert and salt - akin, I imagine, to being on Neptune - to find only more desert and salt, and nothing of any more interest than a couple of unclimbable wannabe mountains. Nothing to do. Nothing. Absolutly NOTHING. Faced with such a predicament, (Grandma, do not read the rest of this sentence) there was simply no choice but to get *blind* drunk and entertain ourselves with a stuffed armadillo. We discovered said armadillo fortuitously on a window ledge and named him Kirky, after the illustrious Mr. Adam Kirk, esq.. Kirky was great.
The morning after the night before was spent nursing horrendous hangovers and trying to unravel the mystery of where-did-Kirky-go. (It turned out the hostel owner confiscated him and locked him in a room well out of harm´s way - (Spoil sprts!) - a room which, I should add, apparently underwent numerous drunken and thwarted break-in attempts to rescue Kirky by Pete and me). We were then taken to the Galaxias caves, where we shimmied through petrified cacti forests, marvelled at moon-like caves of ancient fossilised coral (which would have been underwater 40000 years ago when the salt flats were actually a lake), explored a cemetery in another cave, went to what was once an island and gazed out on its white sea of salt, and argued with our rubbish guide to make him take us to a volcano specified as a highlight of our tour. Numerous threats of reporting him to the Lonely Planet later, we got a good view of an awesome volcano, stumbled on a flock of flamingos and saw some (salt) water springs to pot. Not bad all in all.
And after Uyuni, the epic trek to Iguazu began. Commencing with an obscenely early bus (and a serendipitous view of a lunar eclipse!!) to Jujuy, our descent into trampery began. Wearing approximately 13 layers of clothing in a bid to ward off the subzero cold, not having showered for 7 days (too cold to undress!) and having slept and lived in the same clothes for 5 days solid (again, too cold!), we reached Argentina smelling terrible, looking destitute, and thinking we had finally attained tramp status. An overnight stop-over in a cash point with a bonefide tramp while waiting for a connecting bus proved us wrong, however. I now consider the true point of my acquisition of trampliness to be when I started to envy our tramp his cardboard box. Moving on...some 1700 km, a shower in Salta and several packets of Oreos (my favourite travel food - oooh, the chocolatey goodness) later, having passed through Paraguayan capital Asuncion and had a do-it-yourself city tour by Ruth, stopped over in the most corrupt city in South America, Ciudad del Este, we finally got to Iguazu. It. Was. Amazing. Utterly amazing. We spent a day on the Brazilian side (got stamped in, but forgot to get stamped out again...so I figure I will be in Brazil for the rest of my life??) and one on Argentina´s side. Got lots of photos. Got wet.
And one 17 hour bus journey later, and we are now in Buenos Aires. Perhaps my favourite place so far. We are staying in a funky hostel full of travellers, soaking up the sights, drinking red wine, seeing tango, and eating our body weight in the most excellent steak in the whole wide world. Mmmmm... Ruth and Matt fly home tomorrow, so one big night out tonight to celebrate our travels...and then it´s just me and Pete. Pete is currently masterminding a trip to Tierra del Fuego, Patagonia. Being adverse to the cold, however, I think I am going to stay put here in BA for the next while...and I will tango my socks off, eat meat, and let you know more about the awesomeness of Argentina´s capital next time.
Ciao for now
xxx
Soooo - where was I? Salt Flats. Well, the journey there was a little more tricky than anticipated. What should have been an easy transfer to Uyuni turned into an impromptu stop-over in the tourist-hating hell-hole of Oruro, where we were ripped off, scammed, shunned and scorned and had a thoroughly unpleasant time. This was mainly on account of my inability to move any quicker than a pitiful hobble, thus causing us to missing two buses and me to be unaffectionately renamed ´limpy Longfils´. Anyway, when we finally arrived in Uyuni via nightbus we jumped straight onto a tour of the Salt Flats and sped away to one of the eeriest places in the world. Imagine being in a David Hockney picture entitled White/Blue. That´s the salt flats. Massive expanses (12000 squared km to be exact) of flat, white, 40 thousand year old salt, topped with cloudless blue sky, spreading out in a glittering, glaring, snow-like landscape. We had a lot of fun posing like idiots among the snow mounds, saw a train cemetery and some salt processing, and were whisked off to our salt hotel (a hotel made entirely of salt) by our inept, useless and bolshy guide to spend an afternoon awaiting dinner-time. And there was nothing to do there. After the initial 5 minute long novelty of staying in a salt hotel wore off, we explored the surrounding desolate desert and salt - akin, I imagine, to being on Neptune - to find only more desert and salt, and nothing of any more interest than a couple of unclimbable wannabe mountains. Nothing to do. Nothing. Absolutly NOTHING. Faced with such a predicament, (Grandma, do not read the rest of this sentence) there was simply no choice but to get *blind* drunk and entertain ourselves with a stuffed armadillo. We discovered said armadillo fortuitously on a window ledge and named him Kirky, after the illustrious Mr. Adam Kirk, esq.. Kirky was great.
The morning after the night before was spent nursing horrendous hangovers and trying to unravel the mystery of where-did-Kirky-go. (It turned out the hostel owner confiscated him and locked him in a room well out of harm´s way - (Spoil sprts!) - a room which, I should add, apparently underwent numerous drunken and thwarted break-in attempts to rescue Kirky by Pete and me). We were then taken to the Galaxias caves, where we shimmied through petrified cacti forests, marvelled at moon-like caves of ancient fossilised coral (which would have been underwater 40000 years ago when the salt flats were actually a lake), explored a cemetery in another cave, went to what was once an island and gazed out on its white sea of salt, and argued with our rubbish guide to make him take us to a volcano specified as a highlight of our tour. Numerous threats of reporting him to the Lonely Planet later, we got a good view of an awesome volcano, stumbled on a flock of flamingos and saw some (salt) water springs to pot. Not bad all in all.
And after Uyuni, the epic trek to Iguazu began. Commencing with an obscenely early bus (and a serendipitous view of a lunar eclipse!!) to Jujuy, our descent into trampery began. Wearing approximately 13 layers of clothing in a bid to ward off the subzero cold, not having showered for 7 days (too cold to undress!) and having slept and lived in the same clothes for 5 days solid (again, too cold!), we reached Argentina smelling terrible, looking destitute, and thinking we had finally attained tramp status. An overnight stop-over in a cash point with a bonefide tramp while waiting for a connecting bus proved us wrong, however. I now consider the true point of my acquisition of trampliness to be when I started to envy our tramp his cardboard box. Moving on...some 1700 km, a shower in Salta and several packets of Oreos (my favourite travel food - oooh, the chocolatey goodness) later, having passed through Paraguayan capital Asuncion and had a do-it-yourself city tour by Ruth, stopped over in the most corrupt city in South America, Ciudad del Este, we finally got to Iguazu. It. Was. Amazing. Utterly amazing. We spent a day on the Brazilian side (got stamped in, but forgot to get stamped out again...so I figure I will be in Brazil for the rest of my life??) and one on Argentina´s side. Got lots of photos. Got wet.
And one 17 hour bus journey later, and we are now in Buenos Aires. Perhaps my favourite place so far. We are staying in a funky hostel full of travellers, soaking up the sights, drinking red wine, seeing tango, and eating our body weight in the most excellent steak in the whole wide world. Mmmmm... Ruth and Matt fly home tomorrow, so one big night out tonight to celebrate our travels...and then it´s just me and Pete. Pete is currently masterminding a trip to Tierra del Fuego, Patagonia. Being adverse to the cold, however, I think I am going to stay put here in BA for the next while...and I will tango my socks off, eat meat, and let you know more about the awesomeness of Argentina´s capital next time.
Ciao for now
xxx
Saturday, 25 August 2007
Rocking in Bolivia
Yo yo yo,
Ok - so I lied. Despite the plan of exiting Peru quick-style and heading for Bolivian territory which I stated in my last blog entry, due to another vicious attack of The Stomach Bug on Ruth, we actually spent a couple of days in Peru´s most famous Lake Titicaca-bordering town, Puno. And a very nice couple of days they were too (well, except for Ruth). The Lake itself was perfect. The 3820m altitude renders the air almost magically pure, creating a crystaline atmosphere and excellent light by which to admire the sparkling waters and experience stunning sunsets. The town itself was rather quirky, featuring a quaint little church by which we witnessed yet another ad-hoc band featuring many unexpected instruments. The highlight, however, was our trip to the floating reed islands of the Uros people. Bobbing merrily in the middle of the lake, these man made islands have been there for centuries, and many of the people are still living to the traditions of their ancestors. Matt and Pete managed to get a ride in a reed boat, while I managed to put my right foot through the island and sumberge myself knee deep in the lake. Fun.
Next stop was, as promised and (I´m sure) highly anticipated by my lovely readers, Copacabana. I won´t sing the song at you, but I will wax lyrical about the place. The views were fantastic, the food was divine, Matt, Pete and I conquered a near-by mountain with a shrine on the top, we visited the rather Aegean feeling Isla del Sol, an island on which the Incas believed the sun was born, and had a lovely little trip on a pedalow. All good. Check out the photos (link below). Copa, copacabana...
After Copacabana, we went straight to the world´s highest capital city, La Paz (I say straight, but we actually had to re-enter Peru and then enter Bolivia for a second time as Copacabana is a little pokey bit of land which is technically Bolivia, but is disconnected from the mainland. We had to go by boat. The bus went on a boat too :-) ) The first sights of La Paz were breathtaking - quite literally, given the 3660m altitude - and displayed a sprawling city in a basin formed by towering mountains. Even once in the city itself, La Paz was still breathtaking, although in the less idyllic sense that the pollution was suffocatingly bad! Still, the waterfalls of cars, heaving traffic, comically horizontal traffic lights, busy, buzzy, bustling streets and masses of people were a welcome change from sleepy Lake Titicaca. The highlight of the trip, however, has to be mountain biking down the World´s Most Dangerous Road. According to the Inter-American Development Bank, this road from La Paz to Coroico is officially the most perilous the world has ever seen. In places it is a mere 3m wide, in the average year 26 vehicles fatally plummet over its sheer-600m-cliff-drop rough-hewn edges, and the worst accident in recent times was in 1983 when a bus and its 100 passengers slipped off the precipice into the abyss below. And I biked down it. I have a t-shirt to prove it. (And don´t worry, I am alive.) It was one of the best things I have ever done and was exhilirating for every metre of the 64km ride. Even though seeing the crosses by the roadside had a slightly macarbre feel, it didn´t detract from the excitement one bit :-) We spent that evening in pretty Coroico to eat cheap food and drink cheap drink, and headed back to La Paz the following day to soak up the sights, marvel at the Bolivian ladies wearing comical over-tall bowler hats, drink PG Tips in Oliver´s (English!!!!!!!!!!!!) Bar, meet up with some friends from Machu Picchu, and plan the next leg of our trip. The only thing I didn´t enjoy about La Paz was seeing the poverty. Some people were literally searching through rubbish to find food, while others had clearly been homeless for years. I found myself compelled to give money to several people I met - that some in the world have no choice but to live like this is deeply saddening. Bolivia is definitely the poorest place financially that we have visited. Conversely, I think it is one of the richest culturally. It is the only so far country which I definitely want to come back to. Due to it not being quite so set up for tourists as Peru or Ecuador, I feel that there is a wealth of culture and tradition beneath the surface which isn´t being dislayed. Additionally, the scanty amount of time we have here means that some places like beautiful judicial and symblic capital Sucre and the silver mines of Potosi will go unvisited on this trip. I´ll definitely be back some day.
Anyway - this is not quite it for Bolivia. We spent a few days in warm (!), low-altitude Cochabamba, where we discovered that Pete had stowed away a selection of Egg Shampoos from the previous hostel, and got all our clothes washed. Which would have been wonderful (because we all smelt terrible), except that we ended up booking a jungle tour for a couple of days, sans clothes, and possibly sans sanity. Armed with just one pair of trousers (all over which Pete kindly spilt Coke Zero), a bikini, a top, and a pair of tights over which I wore a pair of Pete´s boxers to protect (haha!!) my dignity, we sped off to Villa Tunari. Here we white water rafted in the Rio Spiritu Sanctu (Sacred Spirit River), went trekking, canyoning, waterfall jumping and rappelling, and saw animals in a sanctuary. The animals there had all been saved from adverse conditions - we saw parrots, a puma, a bear, and were attacked by a theiving pack of monkey who ate the seeds from then stole Ruth´s necklace, tried to groom Matt for fleas and peed on Pete. Lovely. The trip was generally quite fun, although it had the down side of me hurting my knee by jumping into a waterfall, spending the 4 hour journey back literally crying in pain, and testing out the Bolivian health service. I got some very exciting x-rays, had a chat with a lovely nurse, discovered nothing was broken and was instructed to rest in bed for 2 weeks. So I stayed in bed for a day. And have been taking a lot of heavy painkillers. I think I´ll pull through.
The knee-diversion was also problematic in that it meant we came to Oruro a day late, then missed 2 buses, and are still stranded here (it´s a horrible, Gringo-hating hole where everyone is mean, tries to rip us off, and is generally horrible) until this evening when we can get a night bus to Uyuni and the Salt Flats. I won´t ruin your eager anticipation of the next entry by telling you anything about the Salt Flats...but I am really looking forward to them!
If anyone would like to see photos of the trip so far, here are a load of links for your perusal:
Pisco, Ica, Nazca: http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2155964&l=6ff20&id=36900740
Cusco and Machu Picchu: http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2155966&l=d7370&id=36900740
Machu Picchu continued: http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2156104&l=36f54&id=36900740
Arequipa and Colca Canyon: http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2156104&l=36f54&id=36900740
Puno: http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2156111&l=8502d&id=36900740
Copacabana: http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2156112&l=edf13&id=36900740
I´ll try to get links to Ruth´s photos of Ecuador up on the next blog.
Also - please email me. Full marks go to the Standfields (and a small selection of friends), who have emailed me lots of lovely news. But the rest of you (extended family especially!) are rubbish. Send me news. Please. Now. :-) Thank you. (helensie@hotmail.com)
Lots of love for now xxxx
Ok - so I lied. Despite the plan of exiting Peru quick-style and heading for Bolivian territory which I stated in my last blog entry, due to another vicious attack of The Stomach Bug on Ruth, we actually spent a couple of days in Peru´s most famous Lake Titicaca-bordering town, Puno. And a very nice couple of days they were too (well, except for Ruth). The Lake itself was perfect. The 3820m altitude renders the air almost magically pure, creating a crystaline atmosphere and excellent light by which to admire the sparkling waters and experience stunning sunsets. The town itself was rather quirky, featuring a quaint little church by which we witnessed yet another ad-hoc band featuring many unexpected instruments. The highlight, however, was our trip to the floating reed islands of the Uros people. Bobbing merrily in the middle of the lake, these man made islands have been there for centuries, and many of the people are still living to the traditions of their ancestors. Matt and Pete managed to get a ride in a reed boat, while I managed to put my right foot through the island and sumberge myself knee deep in the lake. Fun.
Next stop was, as promised and (I´m sure) highly anticipated by my lovely readers, Copacabana. I won´t sing the song at you, but I will wax lyrical about the place. The views were fantastic, the food was divine, Matt, Pete and I conquered a near-by mountain with a shrine on the top, we visited the rather Aegean feeling Isla del Sol, an island on which the Incas believed the sun was born, and had a lovely little trip on a pedalow. All good. Check out the photos (link below). Copa, copacabana...
After Copacabana, we went straight to the world´s highest capital city, La Paz (I say straight, but we actually had to re-enter Peru and then enter Bolivia for a second time as Copacabana is a little pokey bit of land which is technically Bolivia, but is disconnected from the mainland. We had to go by boat. The bus went on a boat too :-) ) The first sights of La Paz were breathtaking - quite literally, given the 3660m altitude - and displayed a sprawling city in a basin formed by towering mountains. Even once in the city itself, La Paz was still breathtaking, although in the less idyllic sense that the pollution was suffocatingly bad! Still, the waterfalls of cars, heaving traffic, comically horizontal traffic lights, busy, buzzy, bustling streets and masses of people were a welcome change from sleepy Lake Titicaca. The highlight of the trip, however, has to be mountain biking down the World´s Most Dangerous Road. According to the Inter-American Development Bank, this road from La Paz to Coroico is officially the most perilous the world has ever seen. In places it is a mere 3m wide, in the average year 26 vehicles fatally plummet over its sheer-600m-cliff-drop rough-hewn edges, and the worst accident in recent times was in 1983 when a bus and its 100 passengers slipped off the precipice into the abyss below. And I biked down it. I have a t-shirt to prove it. (And don´t worry, I am alive.) It was one of the best things I have ever done and was exhilirating for every metre of the 64km ride. Even though seeing the crosses by the roadside had a slightly macarbre feel, it didn´t detract from the excitement one bit :-) We spent that evening in pretty Coroico to eat cheap food and drink cheap drink, and headed back to La Paz the following day to soak up the sights, marvel at the Bolivian ladies wearing comical over-tall bowler hats, drink PG Tips in Oliver´s (English!!!!!!!!!!!!) Bar, meet up with some friends from Machu Picchu, and plan the next leg of our trip. The only thing I didn´t enjoy about La Paz was seeing the poverty. Some people were literally searching through rubbish to find food, while others had clearly been homeless for years. I found myself compelled to give money to several people I met - that some in the world have no choice but to live like this is deeply saddening. Bolivia is definitely the poorest place financially that we have visited. Conversely, I think it is one of the richest culturally. It is the only so far country which I definitely want to come back to. Due to it not being quite so set up for tourists as Peru or Ecuador, I feel that there is a wealth of culture and tradition beneath the surface which isn´t being dislayed. Additionally, the scanty amount of time we have here means that some places like beautiful judicial and symblic capital Sucre and the silver mines of Potosi will go unvisited on this trip. I´ll definitely be back some day.
Anyway - this is not quite it for Bolivia. We spent a few days in warm (!), low-altitude Cochabamba, where we discovered that Pete had stowed away a selection of Egg Shampoos from the previous hostel, and got all our clothes washed. Which would have been wonderful (because we all smelt terrible), except that we ended up booking a jungle tour for a couple of days, sans clothes, and possibly sans sanity. Armed with just one pair of trousers (all over which Pete kindly spilt Coke Zero), a bikini, a top, and a pair of tights over which I wore a pair of Pete´s boxers to protect (haha!!) my dignity, we sped off to Villa Tunari. Here we white water rafted in the Rio Spiritu Sanctu (Sacred Spirit River), went trekking, canyoning, waterfall jumping and rappelling, and saw animals in a sanctuary. The animals there had all been saved from adverse conditions - we saw parrots, a puma, a bear, and were attacked by a theiving pack of monkey who ate the seeds from then stole Ruth´s necklace, tried to groom Matt for fleas and peed on Pete. Lovely. The trip was generally quite fun, although it had the down side of me hurting my knee by jumping into a waterfall, spending the 4 hour journey back literally crying in pain, and testing out the Bolivian health service. I got some very exciting x-rays, had a chat with a lovely nurse, discovered nothing was broken and was instructed to rest in bed for 2 weeks. So I stayed in bed for a day. And have been taking a lot of heavy painkillers. I think I´ll pull through.
The knee-diversion was also problematic in that it meant we came to Oruro a day late, then missed 2 buses, and are still stranded here (it´s a horrible, Gringo-hating hole where everyone is mean, tries to rip us off, and is generally horrible) until this evening when we can get a night bus to Uyuni and the Salt Flats. I won´t ruin your eager anticipation of the next entry by telling you anything about the Salt Flats...but I am really looking forward to them!
If anyone would like to see photos of the trip so far, here are a load of links for your perusal:
Pisco, Ica, Nazca: http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2155964&l=6ff20&id=36900740
Cusco and Machu Picchu: http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2155966&l=d7370&id=36900740
Machu Picchu continued: http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2156104&l=36f54&id=36900740
Arequipa and Colca Canyon: http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2156104&l=36f54&id=36900740
Puno: http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2156111&l=8502d&id=36900740
Copacabana: http://cambridge.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2156112&l=edf13&id=36900740
I´ll try to get links to Ruth´s photos of Ecuador up on the next blog.
Also - please email me. Full marks go to the Standfields (and a small selection of friends), who have emailed me lots of lovely news. But the rest of you (extended family especially!) are rubbish. Send me news. Please. Now. :-) Thank you. (helensie@hotmail.com)
Lots of love for now xxxx
Sunday, 12 August 2007
Cusco, Machu Picchu and Goodbye Peru
Dear all,
After the whirlwind tour of Lima, Pisco, Ica and Nazca we travelled on to Cusco, ancient capital of the Inca empire. With cobbled streets lined with alpaca-wool clothing selling Peruanas (Peruvian ladies), inca walls, colonial architecture and cosy restaurants, Cusco is the perfect place to spend few days acclimatising to the altitude before setting off on various treks to Machu Picchu, lost city of the incas. Despite there being more tourists than you can shake a stick at and it being freezing cold at night, I really loved Cusco as a city. Unfortunately, however, we contracted some kind of violent stomach bug there and Ruth, Pete and I spent two of the four days before our trek in bed. Matt was sadly so ill that we had to call a doctor out and he couldn´t join us for Machu Picchu. Such a shame, particularly as we had been organised enough to book our 4 day classic Inca trail in January!
Nonetheless, Ruth, Pete and I set out for Machu Picchu, rucksacks on our backs, cameras in hand, and still languishing from the illness. The first day was a designated ´training day´ - supposedly easy and reasonably flat, serving to whip us into shape for the following days´ hiking. And although it was easier than the following days, 8 hours of walking in high altitude with backpacks proved challenging to say the least! Still, in comparison with our porters, who carried towering packs of our stuff, tents, cooking equipment and goodness knows what else, and who ran ahead of us at super-quick speed to set up camp for us, the difficulty of our task seemed pretty laughable. The spectacular mountain scenery we witnessed and the company of a great group soon made our woes almost pale into insignificance. Over the four days we trekked through four ecosystems, including cloud forests, jungles and mountains, seeing snow-capped peaks and awesome river valleys. I got to see some rare orchids and was even lucky enough to have a humming bird hover by a flower just 6 inches from my face. Along the way we also met numerous llamas and alpacas, encountered some of the most ´interesting´ (read revolting) toilet facilities I have come across, and saw several inca remains. Some were simple lookouts, a few were shrines, and many included inca terraces. These rather splendid step-like constructions built into the mountain sides were used for agriculture. The incas used to plant seeds on different levels of the steps, experimenting with what could be grown at different altitudes. They would then transfer crops from site to site across the mountains as the plants adapted to different climates, altitudes and ecosystems - basically an early form of genetic engineering! Incredible! Once such terrace site was Wiñay Wayna, which also included a few inca houses and a collectiong of 16 ceremonial baths built down the mountain side. The water flowing through has been doing so since the baths´construction over five hundred years ago. Another highlight on the third day was taking part in a traditional ceremony to Pachamama (mother earth). We fanned out three sacred coca leaves, blew on them in the direction of each point of the compass to sk protection from the mountain spirits, and collected rocks and placed them in a pyramid form on a high mountain pass. It was nice to experience a snippet of the significance the trail had for the incas, and understanding something of their religion was enlightening.
On the fourth day we reached Machu Picchu. After three freeeeeeeeeeeezing nights (even investing in an alplaca sweater, llama wool hat and gloves and a sheep named Juan didn´t keep me warm!), several excellent meals (the cook deserves a medal, or at least the cordon bleu), Pete being attacked once again by the illness and forming ´Team Slow´ who ambled at a leisurely pace some 2 hours behind the rest of us, and being coerced into getting up at 3.45 so as to hit Machu Picchu before the crowds did, we finally got there. Even though I was knackered, sleep-deprived, cold, my knees hurt, my legs ached and I had caught a cold, it was well worth it. We arrived at the sun gate at around 7am, and walked down to the lost city, watching as the sun rose behind the mountains and illuminated the ancient buildings and streets. Inside the city were houses, temples, a factory area, a plaza, and much of it was constructed according to astrological and orientational significance. One temple has windows in it through which the sun shines directly at summer and winter solstices, another has a sundial carved with an eye, which is lit up at certain points of the year. I am still utterly awestruck by the sophistication of the inca culture, and the intensity of their faith in their religion, a faith which drew them not only to walk so far to reach the city, but to build it in its remote mountain location in the first place.
Anway, after a brief stop in Aguas Calientes we returned to Cusco to meet a more recovered but rather lonely Matt, to meet up again with Klaus and Patrick, say farewell to Hannah and mooch around the city for a day. I managed to find a ring with an Andean cross on it (a cross which signifies the upper, middle and lower worlds and the father, mother and spirits in incan religion) and treated myself to a massage for my legs (which felt as though they had been tenderised, repeatedly pummeled with a mallet and were ready for roasting). I also got some thermal trousers as my aplaca clothing fetish simply isn´t sufficient to withstand the night-time temperatures. The next stop was Arequipa, where I visited a rather eerie ice mummy called Juanita who was sacrificed to the gods some 500 years ago, nosed around a few churches and soaked up the white-stone architecture and splendourous main plaza. I also enjoyed seeing yet more Peruvian flags marking Independence Day, flags which are mandatorily dislayed on every building in the country. We also went on a 2 day tour to the Cañon del Colca, which is supposedly the world´s deepest canyon. It really was rather grand, particularly with the condors swooping majestically up and down it. Photos to follow soon. Other highlights of the tour included seeing some traditional dancing and relaxing in some hot spring baths in Chevay. Very nice.
And that, really, is it for Peru. Tonight we head to Puno by Lake Titicaca, where we will stay just for the night before bussing it to the other side of the lake in Copacobana, Bolivia. Peru, so far, is my favourite country - varied, beautiful, steeped in history and culture, and friendly. I am sure Bolivia will be great too though - I am already looking forward to being able to sing Barry Manalow´s ´Copacabana´ when arriving there!
The tantalising tales of your intrepid traveller continue next time....
xxx
After the whirlwind tour of Lima, Pisco, Ica and Nazca we travelled on to Cusco, ancient capital of the Inca empire. With cobbled streets lined with alpaca-wool clothing selling Peruanas (Peruvian ladies), inca walls, colonial architecture and cosy restaurants, Cusco is the perfect place to spend few days acclimatising to the altitude before setting off on various treks to Machu Picchu, lost city of the incas. Despite there being more tourists than you can shake a stick at and it being freezing cold at night, I really loved Cusco as a city. Unfortunately, however, we contracted some kind of violent stomach bug there and Ruth, Pete and I spent two of the four days before our trek in bed. Matt was sadly so ill that we had to call a doctor out and he couldn´t join us for Machu Picchu. Such a shame, particularly as we had been organised enough to book our 4 day classic Inca trail in January!
Nonetheless, Ruth, Pete and I set out for Machu Picchu, rucksacks on our backs, cameras in hand, and still languishing from the illness. The first day was a designated ´training day´ - supposedly easy and reasonably flat, serving to whip us into shape for the following days´ hiking. And although it was easier than the following days, 8 hours of walking in high altitude with backpacks proved challenging to say the least! Still, in comparison with our porters, who carried towering packs of our stuff, tents, cooking equipment and goodness knows what else, and who ran ahead of us at super-quick speed to set up camp for us, the difficulty of our task seemed pretty laughable. The spectacular mountain scenery we witnessed and the company of a great group soon made our woes almost pale into insignificance. Over the four days we trekked through four ecosystems, including cloud forests, jungles and mountains, seeing snow-capped peaks and awesome river valleys. I got to see some rare orchids and was even lucky enough to have a humming bird hover by a flower just 6 inches from my face. Along the way we also met numerous llamas and alpacas, encountered some of the most ´interesting´ (read revolting) toilet facilities I have come across, and saw several inca remains. Some were simple lookouts, a few were shrines, and many included inca terraces. These rather splendid step-like constructions built into the mountain sides were used for agriculture. The incas used to plant seeds on different levels of the steps, experimenting with what could be grown at different altitudes. They would then transfer crops from site to site across the mountains as the plants adapted to different climates, altitudes and ecosystems - basically an early form of genetic engineering! Incredible! Once such terrace site was Wiñay Wayna, which also included a few inca houses and a collectiong of 16 ceremonial baths built down the mountain side. The water flowing through has been doing so since the baths´construction over five hundred years ago. Another highlight on the third day was taking part in a traditional ceremony to Pachamama (mother earth). We fanned out three sacred coca leaves, blew on them in the direction of each point of the compass to sk protection from the mountain spirits, and collected rocks and placed them in a pyramid form on a high mountain pass. It was nice to experience a snippet of the significance the trail had for the incas, and understanding something of their religion was enlightening.
On the fourth day we reached Machu Picchu. After three freeeeeeeeeeeezing nights (even investing in an alplaca sweater, llama wool hat and gloves and a sheep named Juan didn´t keep me warm!), several excellent meals (the cook deserves a medal, or at least the cordon bleu), Pete being attacked once again by the illness and forming ´Team Slow´ who ambled at a leisurely pace some 2 hours behind the rest of us, and being coerced into getting up at 3.45 so as to hit Machu Picchu before the crowds did, we finally got there. Even though I was knackered, sleep-deprived, cold, my knees hurt, my legs ached and I had caught a cold, it was well worth it. We arrived at the sun gate at around 7am, and walked down to the lost city, watching as the sun rose behind the mountains and illuminated the ancient buildings and streets. Inside the city were houses, temples, a factory area, a plaza, and much of it was constructed according to astrological and orientational significance. One temple has windows in it through which the sun shines directly at summer and winter solstices, another has a sundial carved with an eye, which is lit up at certain points of the year. I am still utterly awestruck by the sophistication of the inca culture, and the intensity of their faith in their religion, a faith which drew them not only to walk so far to reach the city, but to build it in its remote mountain location in the first place.
Anway, after a brief stop in Aguas Calientes we returned to Cusco to meet a more recovered but rather lonely Matt, to meet up again with Klaus and Patrick, say farewell to Hannah and mooch around the city for a day. I managed to find a ring with an Andean cross on it (a cross which signifies the upper, middle and lower worlds and the father, mother and spirits in incan religion) and treated myself to a massage for my legs (which felt as though they had been tenderised, repeatedly pummeled with a mallet and were ready for roasting). I also got some thermal trousers as my aplaca clothing fetish simply isn´t sufficient to withstand the night-time temperatures. The next stop was Arequipa, where I visited a rather eerie ice mummy called Juanita who was sacrificed to the gods some 500 years ago, nosed around a few churches and soaked up the white-stone architecture and splendourous main plaza. I also enjoyed seeing yet more Peruvian flags marking Independence Day, flags which are mandatorily dislayed on every building in the country. We also went on a 2 day tour to the Cañon del Colca, which is supposedly the world´s deepest canyon. It really was rather grand, particularly with the condors swooping majestically up and down it. Photos to follow soon. Other highlights of the tour included seeing some traditional dancing and relaxing in some hot spring baths in Chevay. Very nice.
And that, really, is it for Peru. Tonight we head to Puno by Lake Titicaca, where we will stay just for the night before bussing it to the other side of the lake in Copacobana, Bolivia. Peru, so far, is my favourite country - varied, beautiful, steeped in history and culture, and friendly. I am sure Bolivia will be great too though - I am already looking forward to being able to sing Barry Manalow´s ´Copacabana´ when arriving there!
The tantalising tales of your intrepid traveller continue next time....
xxx
Tuesday, 31 July 2007
Trujillo, Caraz, Lima and beyond
Peru has been living up to the high expectations which were set in Mancora. After another day of the sunshine city, we jumped on a night bus (and were highly entertained by Spanish Jackie Chan) and headed down to the arid desert of Trujillo. Here it is perpetually hot, getting a mere half an inch of rainfall in the average year, but gets a deluge of rain every 40 years or so called El Niño. The rain is apparently comparable to the flash floods Britain has been getting recently, or so said our guide, and it´s every bit as destructive. Nonetheless, the ruins of the ancient Chimu culture we checked out were being well conserved and were fascinating. We got to see the palace of Chan Chan on the first day, which is an enormous maze-like structure - we would have got very lost without our guide Michael (who originally came from Yardley, so we had a good bit of Brummie chat). From ceramics and textiles found there archeologists have been able to find out a lot about the culture and religion, including a gory penchant for human sacrifice. In the site of El Brujo, the remains of a Moche shrine which we visiting the following day, we were treated to some incredible wall art which depicted the ritual slaughter of teenage girls and slaves which was supposed to appease the rain gods to prevent the onset of El Niño. Apparently the Moche culture (which came after the Chimu) drugged their human offerings with psychedelic drugs so that they haemorraged, thus providing more blood, and hallucinated, thus being unable to distinguish between reality and their induced delirium. Great stuff!
The next day was less bloodthirsty. We got a day bus to a beautiful town called Caraz, which is set amongst the great black mountains of the Cordillera Negra and is a stone´s throw away from the Cordillera Blanca. The journey there was very scenic if longer than we expected. The driver fell off the roof while loading bags onto it, so we had to wait a bum-numbing extra 2 hours on top of a 7 hour journey while a co-driver was found. Still, I think he was alright (if a bit peaky) as he managed to drive us half way there (true hard-core Peruvian style). After an evening of Independence Day festivities in Caraz, the next day was spent trekking around an incredible mountain lake called Lago Paron. I have never seen any natural wonder so beautiful. The water of the lake was bright azure blue and crystal clear, and was set like a gem in the centre of looming snow topped mountains and dazzling white glaciers. The sky was cloudless and pure blue and the air was as fresh as a super fresh daisy. Thanks to a mate de coca (a Peruvian speciality tea meant to help with altitude sickness and made from cocaine leaves - yes, grandma, it´s legal here!) the first 2 hours of walking were a piece of cake. The following 2 hours, however, had us seeing spots, gasping for breath like asthmatic goldfish again and staggering around in state of perpetual bloodrush. It was fun - sort of! Unfortunately that night we had to leave Caraz on the night bus so that we could meet Matt and Pete in Lima. Not having accounted for the Independence Day holidays we couln´t get a bus-cama (sleeper bus) so had an ordeal of a journey on a tiny, freezing, packed, noisy, bumpy bus sat at the back right next to the vomit-inducingly-smelly toilets. It was foul. And there was no Jackie Chan.
Having arrived 2 hours early, woken the guys up at 5am, kipped on their floor and forgone breakfast in order to book bus tickets for the next few days, our one and only day in fog-filled Lima wasn´t the best. We did get to meet Hannah though, who accompanied us for the next leg of our travels, and we found ENGLISH TOFFEE! Real, pedigree, original English Toffee. Well, so the packet said. Anyway, in addition to the camera, credit card, deet and MARMITE the boys brought with them, this eased the pain of the day somewhat. We hotfooted it out of Lima that afternoon to get to Pisco, where we went on a boat trip to the Balletas Islands to see sea lions, penguins, various birds and a national park whose desert landscape was rather reminiscent of being on Mars. Not that we have actually been to Mars, you understand, but it was red, rocky and pretty cool. We entertained ourselves by taking ´space´pictures of us, climbing mountains, staging the death of Matt off a precarious looking cliff edge, and acquainted ourselves properly with Klaus, a lovely Austrian guy who shared a dorm with us and consequently made our group up to a numerous six. Pisco and Paracas, no matter how diverting, were no match for the following day´s activities. The six intrepid explorers journeyed yet further south, braving death by eating suspicious mystery chicken dishes, defying all laws and common sense by squeezing into just one taxi and risking developing nausea through drinking luminescent Inka Kola (it´s bright yellow, tastes like rotten irn-bru, is definitely not cola and was absolutely definitely not drunk by the Incas), and reached the town of Ica. In Ica we drank yet more Inca Kola, found some salty tasting Fanny jam (this is seriously it´s brand name, and it does taste salty), and happened upon some ´Traditional English Cola´ which was red and, again, tasted like off irn-bru. (Fact fans, Peru is the only place in the world where something sells better than Coca Cola, and it is Inca Kola. Makes you wonder. Another fact, in one square metre of Peru you can find more species of ant than in the whole of England...interesting stuff...) From Ica we went to Huacachina. And this is where it got very, very cool. Cooler than Mars (so to speak), cooler than the mountains of Caraz (in terms of fun-factor) but hotter than Brad Pitt eating vindaloo on a hot day (in temperature). Huacachina is an oasis in the middle of some superb desert sand dunes, and we went dune buggying, driving down vertical dune slopes in a pink and yellow dune buggy, and sand-boarding. It was an amazing experience...´supergeil´, as Klaus called it (he was pretty darned good at it, having done a lot of snowboarding in Austria, and with a pretty darned buff body to prove it) or ´awesome´, as we called it. Later Klaus and I climbed to the top of a dune to take pictures of the oasis before running barefooted down again and burying ourselves in the sand, just to make sure it had got into every conceivable crevice and orifice before jumping into the nearest sqimming pool. Awesome :-) !!!
Sadly our next stop in Nazca had a lot to live up to and failed to provide the highs of Huacachina, despite us being up in an airoplane as our main activity. We flew up in a teeeny 6 seater plane to see the Nazca lines, which are various designs etched into the desert floor thought to have been created by the Nazca people and only visible from the air. The lines might have been great, but I wouldn´t really know as I got horribly travel sick and hated every second of the 35 minute flight. I managed to get a couple of pictures of the monkey, condor and astronaut before losing all feeling in my limbs, but the rest of the lines I can only experience vicariously through postcards. A shame, and all in all it wasn´t worth the $50, but Pete, Matt and Klaus loved it. I, however, am NEVER going in a small plane EVER again. That night we got a horrifically hot night bus to Cusco, where we are now, and chilling out for a few days before hitting the Inca Trail and Machu Picchu. Hannah has returned to her school, and we have a new adition to the group in the shape of Patrick, a German from Stuttgart. So for the next few days I´m going to soak up the sun by day, freeze by night, and immerse myself in Inca culture while proudly wearing my new alpaca sweater, hat and gloves.
Laters...xxx
The next day was less bloodthirsty. We got a day bus to a beautiful town called Caraz, which is set amongst the great black mountains of the Cordillera Negra and is a stone´s throw away from the Cordillera Blanca. The journey there was very scenic if longer than we expected. The driver fell off the roof while loading bags onto it, so we had to wait a bum-numbing extra 2 hours on top of a 7 hour journey while a co-driver was found. Still, I think he was alright (if a bit peaky) as he managed to drive us half way there (true hard-core Peruvian style). After an evening of Independence Day festivities in Caraz, the next day was spent trekking around an incredible mountain lake called Lago Paron. I have never seen any natural wonder so beautiful. The water of the lake was bright azure blue and crystal clear, and was set like a gem in the centre of looming snow topped mountains and dazzling white glaciers. The sky was cloudless and pure blue and the air was as fresh as a super fresh daisy. Thanks to a mate de coca (a Peruvian speciality tea meant to help with altitude sickness and made from cocaine leaves - yes, grandma, it´s legal here!) the first 2 hours of walking were a piece of cake. The following 2 hours, however, had us seeing spots, gasping for breath like asthmatic goldfish again and staggering around in state of perpetual bloodrush. It was fun - sort of! Unfortunately that night we had to leave Caraz on the night bus so that we could meet Matt and Pete in Lima. Not having accounted for the Independence Day holidays we couln´t get a bus-cama (sleeper bus) so had an ordeal of a journey on a tiny, freezing, packed, noisy, bumpy bus sat at the back right next to the vomit-inducingly-smelly toilets. It was foul. And there was no Jackie Chan.
Having arrived 2 hours early, woken the guys up at 5am, kipped on their floor and forgone breakfast in order to book bus tickets for the next few days, our one and only day in fog-filled Lima wasn´t the best. We did get to meet Hannah though, who accompanied us for the next leg of our travels, and we found ENGLISH TOFFEE! Real, pedigree, original English Toffee. Well, so the packet said. Anyway, in addition to the camera, credit card, deet and MARMITE the boys brought with them, this eased the pain of the day somewhat. We hotfooted it out of Lima that afternoon to get to Pisco, where we went on a boat trip to the Balletas Islands to see sea lions, penguins, various birds and a national park whose desert landscape was rather reminiscent of being on Mars. Not that we have actually been to Mars, you understand, but it was red, rocky and pretty cool. We entertained ourselves by taking ´space´pictures of us, climbing mountains, staging the death of Matt off a precarious looking cliff edge, and acquainted ourselves properly with Klaus, a lovely Austrian guy who shared a dorm with us and consequently made our group up to a numerous six. Pisco and Paracas, no matter how diverting, were no match for the following day´s activities. The six intrepid explorers journeyed yet further south, braving death by eating suspicious mystery chicken dishes, defying all laws and common sense by squeezing into just one taxi and risking developing nausea through drinking luminescent Inka Kola (it´s bright yellow, tastes like rotten irn-bru, is definitely not cola and was absolutely definitely not drunk by the Incas), and reached the town of Ica. In Ica we drank yet more Inca Kola, found some salty tasting Fanny jam (this is seriously it´s brand name, and it does taste salty), and happened upon some ´Traditional English Cola´ which was red and, again, tasted like off irn-bru. (Fact fans, Peru is the only place in the world where something sells better than Coca Cola, and it is Inca Kola. Makes you wonder. Another fact, in one square metre of Peru you can find more species of ant than in the whole of England...interesting stuff...) From Ica we went to Huacachina. And this is where it got very, very cool. Cooler than Mars (so to speak), cooler than the mountains of Caraz (in terms of fun-factor) but hotter than Brad Pitt eating vindaloo on a hot day (in temperature). Huacachina is an oasis in the middle of some superb desert sand dunes, and we went dune buggying, driving down vertical dune slopes in a pink and yellow dune buggy, and sand-boarding. It was an amazing experience...´supergeil´, as Klaus called it (he was pretty darned good at it, having done a lot of snowboarding in Austria, and with a pretty darned buff body to prove it) or ´awesome´, as we called it. Later Klaus and I climbed to the top of a dune to take pictures of the oasis before running barefooted down again and burying ourselves in the sand, just to make sure it had got into every conceivable crevice and orifice before jumping into the nearest sqimming pool. Awesome :-) !!!
Sadly our next stop in Nazca had a lot to live up to and failed to provide the highs of Huacachina, despite us being up in an airoplane as our main activity. We flew up in a teeeny 6 seater plane to see the Nazca lines, which are various designs etched into the desert floor thought to have been created by the Nazca people and only visible from the air. The lines might have been great, but I wouldn´t really know as I got horribly travel sick and hated every second of the 35 minute flight. I managed to get a couple of pictures of the monkey, condor and astronaut before losing all feeling in my limbs, but the rest of the lines I can only experience vicariously through postcards. A shame, and all in all it wasn´t worth the $50, but Pete, Matt and Klaus loved it. I, however, am NEVER going in a small plane EVER again. That night we got a horrifically hot night bus to Cusco, where we are now, and chilling out for a few days before hitting the Inca Trail and Machu Picchu. Hannah has returned to her school, and we have a new adition to the group in the shape of Patrick, a German from Stuttgart. So for the next few days I´m going to soak up the sun by day, freeze by night, and immerse myself in Inca culture while proudly wearing my new alpaca sweater, hat and gloves.
Laters...xxx
Friday, 20 July 2007
¡Chicos!
Since the wonderful waters of Baños, Ruth and I have spent a bit of time slumming it. Our first endeavour was to trek the Quilotoa loop, which is a trail connecting several tiny villages in the central highlands of rural Ecuador. From the Lonely Planet´s description it sounded pretty darn good; remote indigenous villages where homestays are the norm, treks of only a few hours to get between villages, picturesque mountain scenery complemented by deep canyons and an akaline though magnificent lake formed in a volcanic crater. Obviously, as two girls on a tight budget the homestays would be fine and the trekking would be simple - we are officially Jungle Ruth and Mountain Helen, after all. However, it was problematic. First problem - transport. There were pretty much no buses, and for some unknown reason those buses which did run left at the obscene hour of 3am. This meant we had to hitch some rides with guys who tried to overcharge us ridiculously. Second problem - homestays. While very interesting to see the cultura differences between urban and rural Ecuador, our mediocre spanish prevented easy communication with our hosts. And we got fleas. Or at least we think we did. And still have. Nice. Third problem - treks. The altitude as simply too high after living it up as jungle warriors in the Amazon basin and we spent about two hours staggering up a slight incline gasping for breath like asthmatic goldfish out of water. So yeah. Bit of a disaster really. Despite the fact that we cut our trip from 3 days to 1 and a half, we did get to see some awesome scenery though in Zumbahua, Quilotoa and Chugchilan.
Following our aborted trekking trip, we thought it best to nurse our mosquito and flea bites in Riobamba for a couple of days while waiting to take the infamous Nariz del Diablo (devil´s nose) train from Riobamba to Alausi. I have to say, for a town where ´not much happens´ (Lonely Planet), Riobamba was a good place to chill out for a couple of days. We were transported there in a bus presided over by a huge poster of Jesus (most of them are!), which meandered through mountain tracks, by the side of which the occasional shrine to Mary appeared (they are all over the place - bus stations, roadsides, hotels, swimming pools...these people take their Catholicism seriously). In Riobamba itself we encountered no less than three parades. One, continuing in the religious theme, which was in homage to Mary and Christ, and had dancing, singing, chanting, buses topped with shrines, kids kneeling in prayer, and took a good 30 minutes to pass. Another was something to do with the hospital. And one which we have no idea about. It was colourful. The shoe shiners on the street that we encountered in Quito resurfaced, still pursuing Ruth and I down the street with a plaintive ´por favor´ (even though Ruth was wearing flip flops and I was wearing gold ballet shoes - what on earth did they think they could polish? Our toenails? Honestly!) Other than the parades, Riobamba seemed to have a superfluity of trainers shops, pharmacies and photocopying shops. We are not sure why, but the best theory is that they do a lot of sport, repeatedly injure themselves and have to go to the pharmacy, then have to photocopy the documents to send to the insurance. If they have insurance, that is...hmmmm. There were many singing rubbish trucks (really) which, like the deathly buses of Quito, announced their arrival cheerily with a tune. There were also two impressive snow topped volcanoes in Riobamba. And, of course, the main reason for being there, the train. The train took five hours, zig zagged through mountains, and had to perform a switchback (whereby the train goes forward on one track, then reverses up another track in a ´devil´s nose´ style (?)) to get up a fairly sheer rock face. Ruth and I sat on top of the train :-) Fun!
From Alausi we went straight to beautiful Cuenca, which is a colonial town and utterly gorgeous. Unfortunately we spent very little time there in our hurry to get to Peru, but both of us said we would love to return. The route across the border was an interesting experience. The bus from Cuenca to Machala, then Machala to Huaquillas was uneventful. But getting from Huaquillas (Ecuador) to Tumbes (a mosquito filled hole of a town in Peru) was a pain in the proverbial backside. Firstly we had to get a taxi to the immigration office with the only taxi driver around, who did not have a marked taxi and swore he would only charge us $1. This resulted him recruiting his friend, a plain clothes immigration officer, who insisted on ´helping´us by doing our forms for us, at which point I panicked about not trusting them and demanded to stand in line like everyone else, then I confiscated the taxi driver´s car keys so he couldn´t run off with our stuff. After immigration, we ended up in the taxi again (there were no others!) trying to get to Tumbes to catch our bus to Mancora, when the driver tried to get us to pay $30 for the journey (the guidebook says it should be $5-7), which we managed to get down to $18. And when we arrived in Peru he demanded it in soles (Peruvian currency), not dollars, then drove us to a cash point so I could pay in soles. By this point we knew we could trust the guy, but still knew he was going to rip us off. We thought our troubles were over, but Peruvian buses are an ordeal too! We had to wait half an hour to have seats allotted, then had fingers prints takes, video footage made, *and* had to stop at a checkpoint to have our bags searched!! At least we know we weren´t on a bus with muggers or smugglers. A really annoying experience, but hey, we got here.
Our first stop in Peru is Mancora, Peru´s answer to Ibiza. It´s hot, sunny, sandy, full of backpackers, surfers and westerners, and jam-packed with mototaxis and seafood. Loverrly. Today we chilled on the beach, tonight we´re going out (a novelty as it´s the first place safe enough for us to go out on our own at night) and I am loving it. I´m a little sad to leave Ecuador, land of singing rubbish trucks, but very excited about Peru...more to come soon!
Hasta luego xxxx
Since the wonderful waters of Baños, Ruth and I have spent a bit of time slumming it. Our first endeavour was to trek the Quilotoa loop, which is a trail connecting several tiny villages in the central highlands of rural Ecuador. From the Lonely Planet´s description it sounded pretty darn good; remote indigenous villages where homestays are the norm, treks of only a few hours to get between villages, picturesque mountain scenery complemented by deep canyons and an akaline though magnificent lake formed in a volcanic crater. Obviously, as two girls on a tight budget the homestays would be fine and the trekking would be simple - we are officially Jungle Ruth and Mountain Helen, after all. However, it was problematic. First problem - transport. There were pretty much no buses, and for some unknown reason those buses which did run left at the obscene hour of 3am. This meant we had to hitch some rides with guys who tried to overcharge us ridiculously. Second problem - homestays. While very interesting to see the cultura differences between urban and rural Ecuador, our mediocre spanish prevented easy communication with our hosts. And we got fleas. Or at least we think we did. And still have. Nice. Third problem - treks. The altitude as simply too high after living it up as jungle warriors in the Amazon basin and we spent about two hours staggering up a slight incline gasping for breath like asthmatic goldfish out of water. So yeah. Bit of a disaster really. Despite the fact that we cut our trip from 3 days to 1 and a half, we did get to see some awesome scenery though in Zumbahua, Quilotoa and Chugchilan.
Following our aborted trekking trip, we thought it best to nurse our mosquito and flea bites in Riobamba for a couple of days while waiting to take the infamous Nariz del Diablo (devil´s nose) train from Riobamba to Alausi. I have to say, for a town where ´not much happens´ (Lonely Planet), Riobamba was a good place to chill out for a couple of days. We were transported there in a bus presided over by a huge poster of Jesus (most of them are!), which meandered through mountain tracks, by the side of which the occasional shrine to Mary appeared (they are all over the place - bus stations, roadsides, hotels, swimming pools...these people take their Catholicism seriously). In Riobamba itself we encountered no less than three parades. One, continuing in the religious theme, which was in homage to Mary and Christ, and had dancing, singing, chanting, buses topped with shrines, kids kneeling in prayer, and took a good 30 minutes to pass. Another was something to do with the hospital. And one which we have no idea about. It was colourful. The shoe shiners on the street that we encountered in Quito resurfaced, still pursuing Ruth and I down the street with a plaintive ´por favor´ (even though Ruth was wearing flip flops and I was wearing gold ballet shoes - what on earth did they think they could polish? Our toenails? Honestly!) Other than the parades, Riobamba seemed to have a superfluity of trainers shops, pharmacies and photocopying shops. We are not sure why, but the best theory is that they do a lot of sport, repeatedly injure themselves and have to go to the pharmacy, then have to photocopy the documents to send to the insurance. If they have insurance, that is...hmmmm. There were many singing rubbish trucks (really) which, like the deathly buses of Quito, announced their arrival cheerily with a tune. There were also two impressive snow topped volcanoes in Riobamba. And, of course, the main reason for being there, the train. The train took five hours, zig zagged through mountains, and had to perform a switchback (whereby the train goes forward on one track, then reverses up another track in a ´devil´s nose´ style (?)) to get up a fairly sheer rock face. Ruth and I sat on top of the train :-) Fun!
From Alausi we went straight to beautiful Cuenca, which is a colonial town and utterly gorgeous. Unfortunately we spent very little time there in our hurry to get to Peru, but both of us said we would love to return. The route across the border was an interesting experience. The bus from Cuenca to Machala, then Machala to Huaquillas was uneventful. But getting from Huaquillas (Ecuador) to Tumbes (a mosquito filled hole of a town in Peru) was a pain in the proverbial backside. Firstly we had to get a taxi to the immigration office with the only taxi driver around, who did not have a marked taxi and swore he would only charge us $1. This resulted him recruiting his friend, a plain clothes immigration officer, who insisted on ´helping´us by doing our forms for us, at which point I panicked about not trusting them and demanded to stand in line like everyone else, then I confiscated the taxi driver´s car keys so he couldn´t run off with our stuff. After immigration, we ended up in the taxi again (there were no others!) trying to get to Tumbes to catch our bus to Mancora, when the driver tried to get us to pay $30 for the journey (the guidebook says it should be $5-7), which we managed to get down to $18. And when we arrived in Peru he demanded it in soles (Peruvian currency), not dollars, then drove us to a cash point so I could pay in soles. By this point we knew we could trust the guy, but still knew he was going to rip us off. We thought our troubles were over, but Peruvian buses are an ordeal too! We had to wait half an hour to have seats allotted, then had fingers prints takes, video footage made, *and* had to stop at a checkpoint to have our bags searched!! At least we know we weren´t on a bus with muggers or smugglers. A really annoying experience, but hey, we got here.
Our first stop in Peru is Mancora, Peru´s answer to Ibiza. It´s hot, sunny, sandy, full of backpackers, surfers and westerners, and jam-packed with mototaxis and seafood. Loverrly. Today we chilled on the beach, tonight we´re going out (a novelty as it´s the first place safe enough for us to go out on our own at night) and I am loving it. I´m a little sad to leave Ecuador, land of singing rubbish trucks, but very excited about Peru...more to come soon!
Hasta luego xxxx
Friday, 13 July 2007
Hey hey,
As predicted, Mitad del Mundo was a knockout experience. The northern and southern hemisphere collided dramatically, marked out by a line painted on the gound in a theme park style get-up with a massive monument of the world right in the centre. We soaked in the party atmosphere while drinking cervezas (beers) and listening to a 9 piece salsa band on the Mitad del Mundo central stage. We just about caught the quick sunset too before we got on the 90 minute long bus ride (which costed a measly 40p) back to Quito.
Our last morning in Quito before heading down to Tena was equally dramatic, but for totally different reasons. After an early morning salsa lesson (still the Meaning of Life), we chanced upon a procession in town rather like the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace. There were soldiers everywhere, a brass band which included saxophones and some large circely instruments I didn´t recognise, and an appearance from Ecuadorian President Rafael Carea himself. Pretty exciting for a Monday morning. But, to add to the dramatic procession and a dramatic church I visited where the entire interior was gold (seriously, 17 tonnes of the stuff!), I had a wonderful and dramatic experience with an Ecuadorian man. Quite often, being white, blonde and western, Ruth and I get people staring at us, saying ´hi´, ´hello´or ´hey baby´, or whatever English they know (sometimes it´s quite rude!). This particular man, however, walked up to me, took my arm, and said in a delightful manner, ´Luke, I am you father´. How hilarious is that!? Hahaha.
Anyways, Quito behind us, we took a rather rickety 7 hour bus journey on chillingly precarious mountain roads down to the depths of Tena. Here we booked a jungle tour which started the following morning and was for three days. And. It. Was. Awesome. Utterly awesome. And I am proud to say I have emerged alive, if ravished by millions of mosquitos (40 plus bites on my legs alone!), and have honed some valuable skills to assist me in my piratical mission to captain the seven seas. The lodge we stayed in for the first 2 days consisted of wood cabinas built on different levels right atop a cliff overtowering the Rio and Napo rivers. Just looking down made me feel very Indiana Jones, but the first morning´s activity almost convinced me I had accidentally fallen into an adventure film. We trekked through the rainforest, were taught by our guide, Alex, about medicinal plants and materials used by indigenous Quechua tribes, encountered yellow spiders with spines and shimmied around poisonous snakes. We made crowns from jungle plants, were given ´earrings´ (really just spirally tendrils which stayed on your ears) by Alex and ate lemon ants (yes, I really ate ants and they really tasted like lemon :-) ). We also did some canyoning, which involves using your hands and bum and legs to lever yourself up between tiny rock crevices. Very exhilirating. And I think there might be some truth in karma, as I ripped my trousers, probably in payback for setting fire to Ruth´s pjs :-S
That afternoon we went swimming in the river and panned for gold. We posed for a few photos in the style of a Herbal Essences advert (for this is exactly the kind of setting we were in). The following day involved a trek through torrential rain to an indigenous community and a hair-raisingly scary boat trip back across the swolen river to the lodge (Alex crossed himself and looked skywards before rowing us across a phenomenal current). I tried some traditional foods such as chicha, a drink made from yuka, and boiled plantain, and I had my face painted warrior-style with the juice from a flower´s seeds. In the afternoon we went tubing (drifting down the river in big inner tubes) and the high water made for some great white water fun. All memorable experiences, but one thing I will never forget was the sky on the first night. Without any light pollution at all, I was shocked at how many stars there are in the sky that we don´t usually see. The milky way was clearly visible, the plough was the wrong way up (because of being in a different hemisphere) and stars actually twinkle!!! I spent at least 2 hours just marvelling at the twinkling little lights in the velvety black sky, singing ´twinkle twinkle little star´ to myself in a hammock. Stunning!
The last day involved a change of scenery as we went to a rustic family owned lodge 40 minutes away. Riding in the back of a truck, Ruth and I got a pretty bumpy ride there, but it was worth it. There were dogs and kids running all over the place, 2 parrots who chose not to imitate words but the screaming cries of the 2 month old baby. The two of them squarking in unison was hysterical. That morning we went on another trek, I ripped my trousers and lost all the remaining dignity I had, we climbed up vertical waterfalls (honestly) and descended the rainforest slopes in a the manner of a Tarzan-esque ´controlled fall´, swinging between trees and gripping onto roots for dear life. The afternoon was spent at a laguna, posing for more orgasmic Herbal Essences photos, jumping off rocks 10 feet above the water and sliding down fast-moving waterfalls on our bums. We have video footage to prove it. Oh, yes :-) Yesterday evening we went out in Tena with Alex (the guide), drank more cervezas and piratey cocktails and had 2 hours sleep before catching the 6am bus to Baños, which is where my fabulously exciting tale is being penned (or typed, to be more accurate). I´ve spent most of today in the naturally occurring hot volcanic mineral baths after which the town was named. I showered under another waterfall, and slept, and wandered around a bit. And now I am just about to finish this entry and have some dinner. Lovely.
xxxxxxxxx
As predicted, Mitad del Mundo was a knockout experience. The northern and southern hemisphere collided dramatically, marked out by a line painted on the gound in a theme park style get-up with a massive monument of the world right in the centre. We soaked in the party atmosphere while drinking cervezas (beers) and listening to a 9 piece salsa band on the Mitad del Mundo central stage. We just about caught the quick sunset too before we got on the 90 minute long bus ride (which costed a measly 40p) back to Quito.
Our last morning in Quito before heading down to Tena was equally dramatic, but for totally different reasons. After an early morning salsa lesson (still the Meaning of Life), we chanced upon a procession in town rather like the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace. There were soldiers everywhere, a brass band which included saxophones and some large circely instruments I didn´t recognise, and an appearance from Ecuadorian President Rafael Carea himself. Pretty exciting for a Monday morning. But, to add to the dramatic procession and a dramatic church I visited where the entire interior was gold (seriously, 17 tonnes of the stuff!), I had a wonderful and dramatic experience with an Ecuadorian man. Quite often, being white, blonde and western, Ruth and I get people staring at us, saying ´hi´, ´hello´or ´hey baby´, or whatever English they know (sometimes it´s quite rude!). This particular man, however, walked up to me, took my arm, and said in a delightful manner, ´Luke, I am you father´. How hilarious is that!? Hahaha.
Anyways, Quito behind us, we took a rather rickety 7 hour bus journey on chillingly precarious mountain roads down to the depths of Tena. Here we booked a jungle tour which started the following morning and was for three days. And. It. Was. Awesome. Utterly awesome. And I am proud to say I have emerged alive, if ravished by millions of mosquitos (40 plus bites on my legs alone!), and have honed some valuable skills to assist me in my piratical mission to captain the seven seas. The lodge we stayed in for the first 2 days consisted of wood cabinas built on different levels right atop a cliff overtowering the Rio and Napo rivers. Just looking down made me feel very Indiana Jones, but the first morning´s activity almost convinced me I had accidentally fallen into an adventure film. We trekked through the rainforest, were taught by our guide, Alex, about medicinal plants and materials used by indigenous Quechua tribes, encountered yellow spiders with spines and shimmied around poisonous snakes. We made crowns from jungle plants, were given ´earrings´ (really just spirally tendrils which stayed on your ears) by Alex and ate lemon ants (yes, I really ate ants and they really tasted like lemon :-) ). We also did some canyoning, which involves using your hands and bum and legs to lever yourself up between tiny rock crevices. Very exhilirating. And I think there might be some truth in karma, as I ripped my trousers, probably in payback for setting fire to Ruth´s pjs :-S
That afternoon we went swimming in the river and panned for gold. We posed for a few photos in the style of a Herbal Essences advert (for this is exactly the kind of setting we were in). The following day involved a trek through torrential rain to an indigenous community and a hair-raisingly scary boat trip back across the swolen river to the lodge (Alex crossed himself and looked skywards before rowing us across a phenomenal current). I tried some traditional foods such as chicha, a drink made from yuka, and boiled plantain, and I had my face painted warrior-style with the juice from a flower´s seeds. In the afternoon we went tubing (drifting down the river in big inner tubes) and the high water made for some great white water fun. All memorable experiences, but one thing I will never forget was the sky on the first night. Without any light pollution at all, I was shocked at how many stars there are in the sky that we don´t usually see. The milky way was clearly visible, the plough was the wrong way up (because of being in a different hemisphere) and stars actually twinkle!!! I spent at least 2 hours just marvelling at the twinkling little lights in the velvety black sky, singing ´twinkle twinkle little star´ to myself in a hammock. Stunning!
The last day involved a change of scenery as we went to a rustic family owned lodge 40 minutes away. Riding in the back of a truck, Ruth and I got a pretty bumpy ride there, but it was worth it. There were dogs and kids running all over the place, 2 parrots who chose not to imitate words but the screaming cries of the 2 month old baby. The two of them squarking in unison was hysterical. That morning we went on another trek, I ripped my trousers and lost all the remaining dignity I had, we climbed up vertical waterfalls (honestly) and descended the rainforest slopes in a the manner of a Tarzan-esque ´controlled fall´, swinging between trees and gripping onto roots for dear life. The afternoon was spent at a laguna, posing for more orgasmic Herbal Essences photos, jumping off rocks 10 feet above the water and sliding down fast-moving waterfalls on our bums. We have video footage to prove it. Oh, yes :-) Yesterday evening we went out in Tena with Alex (the guide), drank more cervezas and piratey cocktails and had 2 hours sleep before catching the 6am bus to Baños, which is where my fabulously exciting tale is being penned (or typed, to be more accurate). I´ve spent most of today in the naturally occurring hot volcanic mineral baths after which the town was named. I showered under another waterfall, and slept, and wandered around a bit. And now I am just about to finish this entry and have some dinner. Lovely.
xxxxxxxxx
Saturday, 7 July 2007
¡Hola mis amigos!
I have arrived in Quito, the capital of Ecuador, and it is amazing! The journey here was fairly eventful, involving sitting next to an Israeli tour guide called Moshe for a 12 hour flight, who advised me of Peru´s unmissable sights, and befriending a rather befuddled and flustered American named Paul who had lost his group and spoke no Spanish. Paul and I wiled away 8 freezing night-time hours in Quito airport while I waited for Ruth´s flight to arrive and he waited for the phone booths to open. I bought him hot chocolate with my scanty Spanish and he made me a wire sculpture of a dragon fly in return. What a story, huh?! The best bit of the journey, however, came just as I was flying into Lima airport. It was 5.30 pm and suddenly the massive red rock tips of the Andes loomed up above the clouds, every fold and crevice of their magnificent mass catching the late afternoon sun. I am really looking forward to seeing them properly in a couple of weeks when we head down to Peru.
But for now, back to Ecuador. The Ecuadoian Andes may not be as stunning as the Peruvian, but Quiot is AMAZING! The city itself is comprised of a colonial old town and bustling new town nestled in amongst the Andes and three volcanoes. The people are exceptionally friendly and the food is great. It tends to revolve around chicken and rice, but there have been some interesting surprises, such as chicken feet in soup, cheese and banana toasties and fried green banana salted crisps. Surprisingly tasty actually, in case you were wondering :-) We chose to splash out a bit for the first few days while we acclimatise and recover from jet lag. We are staying in a hotel in the old town called the hotel San Francisco de Quito. It has a jacuzzi, steam room, sauna, lovely rooms, internet access, and the best eggs i have tasted in a long while for breakfast. And all for the equivalent of 7.50 a night. Bargain! We are using it as a base until Monday, and have so far seen the various cathedrals of Quito, heard the marching band which only seems to play in the middle of the night, had near death experiences with the buses which only signal their lethal proximity at the last second with a siren resembling a curious blend of ´Three Blind Mice´ and ´Blind Date´, been to the Plaza Grande, and seen the Virgin on the Panecilla (a statue of Mary with eagle wings, a crown of stars, standing on a globe which is chained to a dragon, as you do, and all atop a mountain which translates as ´the bread roll´). We also headed up Quito´s answer to Notre Dame - possibly the deadliest overhead view of Quito to be braved. The gothic basilica cathedral is decorated with, not gargoyles or saints, but, wait for it...iguanas and tortoises. Despite this amusing Latino architectural twist, we still felt rather Quasimodo-ish as we clambered through the eaves of the cathedral on a rickety wooden causeway, and climbed the vertical steel ladders to the top of the bell towers. The view was stunning. The Cotopaxi volcano shone bright white in the distance, framed by the mountains and slopes on which the outskirts of Quito are built. As a little gift to celebrate our safe return to firm ground, the entrance guide made us friendship braclets from what he assured us was marijuana (otherwise known as hemp). Other highlights have been the weather - gorgeous, but then we are on the equator pretty much - seeing shoe shiners on the streets of Ecuador, and salsa dancing. And, after very little consideration or reflection, I can declare confidently that Salsa is the Meaning of Life. Fact.
Apart from sightseeing in Quito, there have been a couple of other exciting stories to report. Yesterday saw our first small disaster in the form of me setting fire to Ruth´s pj bottoms. It was an accident, honestly, and it is only mildly possible that the alcoholic blackberry smoothie I drank caused this rather tragic occurrence. It really wasn´t my fault that Ruth left her trousers in the lamp and told me to leave the light on, and it wasn´t really my fault that we had a small fire to deal with and the smell of burnt toast to inhale all night. Obviously Ruth will propagate the story in the fashion of ´Helen was blind drunk and set fire to my trousers in a fit of inebriated rage´. But you know it isn´t true. You heard it here first.
Today brought the second disatser of the trip, in that my camera and purse were stolen. They were in my bag when we were on a bus to a town to the north of Quito called Otavalo. They must have been taken by an extremely skilled thief as we were being careful - but obviously not careful enough! Fortunately there were only 20 dollars in the purse and the camera can be claimed for on the insurance. Still, a lesson learned the hard way, unfortunately. I am not even cross at losing possessions, as the people here really are significantly worse off than us Brits. I am more annoyed that I feel I have now lost trust and confidence in the people, who have otherwise been absolutely wonderful. Even so, I tried not to let it ruin my day in the massive indiginous markets of Otavalo. We saw some intricately made crafts and indiginous vendors in traditional clothes, and even had to stop the bus on the way to let past a group of marching indiginous tribes people who were protesting to save their territory. I bought some lovely stuff, and the end of today saw Ruth and I honing our somewhat inept Spanish skills at the Police Station when reporting the theft. Up until today we had only managed to perfect our Spanish swear words and Catherine Tate impressions ( - am I bovvered? Look at my face. Do I look bovvered? Bovvered - ¡estoy molestardo? regarde mi cara...etc.) but now we are fluent in criminal language of a different and more acceptable kind :-) Hopefully tomorrow won´t bring any more mishaps. We are going to see the Equator. The Ecuadorians call it the Mitad del Munde, the middle of the earth, but I shall affectionately bestow it the Tolkien title of Middle Earth, and tomorrow I shall knock myself out with the excitement of hopping between hemispheres.
All for now - love as ever...
I have arrived in Quito, the capital of Ecuador, and it is amazing! The journey here was fairly eventful, involving sitting next to an Israeli tour guide called Moshe for a 12 hour flight, who advised me of Peru´s unmissable sights, and befriending a rather befuddled and flustered American named Paul who had lost his group and spoke no Spanish. Paul and I wiled away 8 freezing night-time hours in Quito airport while I waited for Ruth´s flight to arrive and he waited for the phone booths to open. I bought him hot chocolate with my scanty Spanish and he made me a wire sculpture of a dragon fly in return. What a story, huh?! The best bit of the journey, however, came just as I was flying into Lima airport. It was 5.30 pm and suddenly the massive red rock tips of the Andes loomed up above the clouds, every fold and crevice of their magnificent mass catching the late afternoon sun. I am really looking forward to seeing them properly in a couple of weeks when we head down to Peru.
But for now, back to Ecuador. The Ecuadoian Andes may not be as stunning as the Peruvian, but Quiot is AMAZING! The city itself is comprised of a colonial old town and bustling new town nestled in amongst the Andes and three volcanoes. The people are exceptionally friendly and the food is great. It tends to revolve around chicken and rice, but there have been some interesting surprises, such as chicken feet in soup, cheese and banana toasties and fried green banana salted crisps. Surprisingly tasty actually, in case you were wondering :-) We chose to splash out a bit for the first few days while we acclimatise and recover from jet lag. We are staying in a hotel in the old town called the hotel San Francisco de Quito. It has a jacuzzi, steam room, sauna, lovely rooms, internet access, and the best eggs i have tasted in a long while for breakfast. And all for the equivalent of 7.50 a night. Bargain! We are using it as a base until Monday, and have so far seen the various cathedrals of Quito, heard the marching band which only seems to play in the middle of the night, had near death experiences with the buses which only signal their lethal proximity at the last second with a siren resembling a curious blend of ´Three Blind Mice´ and ´Blind Date´, been to the Plaza Grande, and seen the Virgin on the Panecilla (a statue of Mary with eagle wings, a crown of stars, standing on a globe which is chained to a dragon, as you do, and all atop a mountain which translates as ´the bread roll´). We also headed up Quito´s answer to Notre Dame - possibly the deadliest overhead view of Quito to be braved. The gothic basilica cathedral is decorated with, not gargoyles or saints, but, wait for it...iguanas and tortoises. Despite this amusing Latino architectural twist, we still felt rather Quasimodo-ish as we clambered through the eaves of the cathedral on a rickety wooden causeway, and climbed the vertical steel ladders to the top of the bell towers. The view was stunning. The Cotopaxi volcano shone bright white in the distance, framed by the mountains and slopes on which the outskirts of Quito are built. As a little gift to celebrate our safe return to firm ground, the entrance guide made us friendship braclets from what he assured us was marijuana (otherwise known as hemp). Other highlights have been the weather - gorgeous, but then we are on the equator pretty much - seeing shoe shiners on the streets of Ecuador, and salsa dancing. And, after very little consideration or reflection, I can declare confidently that Salsa is the Meaning of Life. Fact.
Apart from sightseeing in Quito, there have been a couple of other exciting stories to report. Yesterday saw our first small disaster in the form of me setting fire to Ruth´s pj bottoms. It was an accident, honestly, and it is only mildly possible that the alcoholic blackberry smoothie I drank caused this rather tragic occurrence. It really wasn´t my fault that Ruth left her trousers in the lamp and told me to leave the light on, and it wasn´t really my fault that we had a small fire to deal with and the smell of burnt toast to inhale all night. Obviously Ruth will propagate the story in the fashion of ´Helen was blind drunk and set fire to my trousers in a fit of inebriated rage´. But you know it isn´t true. You heard it here first.
Today brought the second disatser of the trip, in that my camera and purse were stolen. They were in my bag when we were on a bus to a town to the north of Quito called Otavalo. They must have been taken by an extremely skilled thief as we were being careful - but obviously not careful enough! Fortunately there were only 20 dollars in the purse and the camera can be claimed for on the insurance. Still, a lesson learned the hard way, unfortunately. I am not even cross at losing possessions, as the people here really are significantly worse off than us Brits. I am more annoyed that I feel I have now lost trust and confidence in the people, who have otherwise been absolutely wonderful. Even so, I tried not to let it ruin my day in the massive indiginous markets of Otavalo. We saw some intricately made crafts and indiginous vendors in traditional clothes, and even had to stop the bus on the way to let past a group of marching indiginous tribes people who were protesting to save their territory. I bought some lovely stuff, and the end of today saw Ruth and I honing our somewhat inept Spanish skills at the Police Station when reporting the theft. Up until today we had only managed to perfect our Spanish swear words and Catherine Tate impressions ( - am I bovvered? Look at my face. Do I look bovvered? Bovvered - ¡estoy molestardo? regarde mi cara...etc.) but now we are fluent in criminal language of a different and more acceptable kind :-) Hopefully tomorrow won´t bring any more mishaps. We are going to see the Equator. The Ecuadorians call it the Mitad del Munde, the middle of the earth, but I shall affectionately bestow it the Tolkien title of Middle Earth, and tomorrow I shall knock myself out with the excitement of hopping between hemispheres.
All for now - love as ever...
Tuesday, 3 July 2007
Getting set to jet across the ocean blue
To all my lovely friends and family (and any other randomers who wish to read),
Finals came and went, graduation has been and gone, and now, with memories of Girton already dwindling into the vaguery of nostalgia, I am just about to set off on yet another gap year. Having sent and received endless travel emails in the past (endless in frequency and length!), largely filled with inane anecdotes few care to read, I decided this time to write a blog. It may also be filled with endless inanity, but you can at least choose to log in when you wish, if you wish (or not, as the case may be), to keep a track on me and my travels and keep in touch...
...I am officially ready to go. The tickets are booked, the travel guides bought, I have hassled the post office for travellers' cheques and dollars three times, and I have endured multiple jabs for various diseases and have attained superwoman status (well, maybe not superwoman, but as I can no longer get typhoid, hepatitis A or B and maybe C, and will not become rabid or yellow with fever, I figure I am as near to invincibility as I'll ever get). I have more or less everything I need. Probably more, in fact. I say this as I am still currently surrounded by an assortment of odd-looking contraptions (such as my beautiful red 'spork' [a spoon, knife and fork in one multi-purpose piece of plastic - snazzy!]) which I have not yet managed to fit into my annoyingly unexpandable 70 litre rucksack. Once I have resumed and won the fight against the bag, however (while continuing the ongoing fight against anti-malerial-tablet-induced-nausea), I will be properly ready to get set to jet and sail the seven seas.
Tomorrow I fly to Ecuador, where I will spend two weeks salsa-ing around with Ruth before heading into Peru. After meeting Matt and Pete on 26th in Lima (Peru's capital), Bolivia, Paraguay, Argentina, Uraguay and Chile are on the itinerary. After this, Pete and I will carry on to New Zealand, Australia, Bali, Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand, Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam. Fun, fun! I'm a little bit scared, quite sad to leave family and friends for so long, but very excited! If it all goes to plan, in a year's time I will come back suntanned, proficient in Spanish and ready to kickstart my career in consulting with Deloitte. If I do not return, however, it is probably because I will have become pirate somewhere off the coast off Australia and will be pursuing my mission for world domination through various piratical endeavours. I will let you know if this is the case and send you pictures of me in a hammock with rum.
I think I'd better go and battle the bag again...but watch this space for more news soon - and do email/post in response. Emails make me happy :-)
Lots of love to all...
Finals came and went, graduation has been and gone, and now, with memories of Girton already dwindling into the vaguery of nostalgia, I am just about to set off on yet another gap year. Having sent and received endless travel emails in the past (endless in frequency and length!), largely filled with inane anecdotes few care to read, I decided this time to write a blog. It may also be filled with endless inanity, but you can at least choose to log in when you wish, if you wish (or not, as the case may be), to keep a track on me and my travels and keep in touch...
...I am officially ready to go. The tickets are booked, the travel guides bought, I have hassled the post office for travellers' cheques and dollars three times, and I have endured multiple jabs for various diseases and have attained superwoman status (well, maybe not superwoman, but as I can no longer get typhoid, hepatitis A or B and maybe C, and will not become rabid or yellow with fever, I figure I am as near to invincibility as I'll ever get). I have more or less everything I need. Probably more, in fact. I say this as I am still currently surrounded by an assortment of odd-looking contraptions (such as my beautiful red 'spork' [a spoon, knife and fork in one multi-purpose piece of plastic - snazzy!]) which I have not yet managed to fit into my annoyingly unexpandable 70 litre rucksack. Once I have resumed and won the fight against the bag, however (while continuing the ongoing fight against anti-malerial-tablet-induced-nausea), I will be properly ready to get set to jet and sail the seven seas.
Tomorrow I fly to Ecuador, where I will spend two weeks salsa-ing around with Ruth before heading into Peru. After meeting Matt and Pete on 26th in Lima (Peru's capital), Bolivia, Paraguay, Argentina, Uraguay and Chile are on the itinerary. After this, Pete and I will carry on to New Zealand, Australia, Bali, Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand, Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam. Fun, fun! I'm a little bit scared, quite sad to leave family and friends for so long, but very excited! If it all goes to plan, in a year's time I will come back suntanned, proficient in Spanish and ready to kickstart my career in consulting with Deloitte. If I do not return, however, it is probably because I will have become pirate somewhere off the coast off Australia and will be pursuing my mission for world domination through various piratical endeavours. I will let you know if this is the case and send you pictures of me in a hammock with rum.
I think I'd better go and battle the bag again...but watch this space for more news soon - and do email/post in response. Emails make me happy :-)
Lots of love to all...
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