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
Tuesday, 16 October 2007
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...
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