Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Final Destination - Colombia

Colombia is a wonderful place. Don't let any amount of horror stories tell you otherwise. Before we left for South America we were warned by everyone about how dangerous South America was, with Colombia being the worst (of course this was all by people who have never actually been there). Once in South America everyone on the backpacker trail told us how great it was. You HAVE to go there they all gushed, no matter how much time you have there, it won't be enough. They were right.  Aside from the hiccup on our second day in Colombia *cough*robbed-at-gun-point*cough* our time there was amazing and memorable.

Cali & Cartagena
We started our adventures in Cali, where we basically hung out, got robbed, went to the police station and flew out. From there we flew up to Cartagena, which is a charming town that is highly susceptible to lots of tropical rain, which the town isn't built for - so every time it rains the streets flood. This brought about the issue of crossing the instantly flooded roads. Well it wasn't an issue for us cause we'd just wade on through, but for the people in business suits (yes they exist - even on the Caribbean Coast of Colombia), wading really isn't an option. The best solution we saw to this was 2 young entrepreneurs (read potential extortionists) who had set up a series of crates, boxes and planks of wood from the curb to the middle of the road (where you could then safely walk to the other side puddle free)  in a busy area, and were charging charging people to use their bridge-like contraption. Gold. People were paying too! The prices we will pay for dry feet.

Playa Blanca
From Cartagena we took a slow boat out to Playa Blanca, Isla Baru. Life is simple on Playa Blanca. You hire a hammock to sleep in, you lay on the beach, you eat simple food, you swim in the sea and you drink cocktails out of coconuts. Lovely. Although this island leads a double life. During the hours of 10-4 this is a massive tourist spot. Latinos and foreigners alike flock to the beach on boats, 500 people cramming up in 2 tiny areas of the long beach, the Islanders trying to sell you everything from food, to clothes, to cocktails, to massages, to jewelry, to shade cloths and chairs - 'but today is a special promotion for you'. The beach is crowded and the atmosphere fun yet intense and busy. As the sun starts to go down, the boats leave, taking with them 500 people. The beach quietens, the whole vibe of the island flips. The Islanders sit down next to you and have a chat, repeating things many times without frustration so you can understand their Spanish. Everyone walks slower and breathes longer. The beach that was just crowded becomes calm and everyone breathes a sigh of relief. Night time brings hammock time and summer storms. Not the best of combinations, but something that can be easily forgiven to stay at this paradise during the quiet hours.

With no sense or need of time, we ate when we were hungry, slept when we were tired and woke to the crashing waves and sun in the morning. Our first night on the island only B and I were in our hammock-house (beach version of guest house), but we felt safe as we had the owner sleeping in the hammock beside us, and Luna the dog sleeping below us. At some hour in the morning I woke with a start. Something had just touched me. Maybe it was the dog? I reasoned. Something touched me again, through the hammock, but harder. Almost like a nudge. The fear of being robbed returned. Was someone feeling inside my hammock to see if i had valuables with me? I look around, something solid was beside me, but with no lights and the grass and plastic roof covering the moon I could not see. Then I saw it, a tail flicked. I had just been headbutted by a cow. The local friendly beach cows had decided to come check out what was up. Turns out they always live by the island philosophy, living in their own time frame.

After 2 nights in this paradise, feeling relaxed and recharged, we headed back to Cartagena to then move on Taganga.

Taganga
Taganga was were I spent my final 2 weeks in South America. We were told by travelers in Bogota that it was paradise. When we first arrived and saw the litter strewn beaches, the washed out dirt streets and cat calling locals we couldn't figure out why. But after a week I didn't want to leave. By the time it came for me to leave 2 weeks later, I had to wrench myself away.

The first week we spent chilling out, going into Tyrona national park overnight with new friends to swim at a beautiful beach and have rainforest time, exploring the area and partying. The second week we discovered diving - the reason I had wanted to go to Taganga initially. Diving - something I had only done once before- is amazing. No other word for it. For one, you're breathing underwater, and you can't get much cooler than that.  There is a whole world under the water that you never get to see. Vision and hearing is impaired, you are a weightless, floating being discovering things that you would never encounter on the land. The silence diving provides makes the whole experience more meditative, a silent personal discovery connecting with other people through hand signals when necessary. No matter how much we dived, it was never enough.

Ripping myself away from Taganga felt like I was snapping off an arm. I actually almost didn't catch the plane - they wouldn't let me get my bag back though, which is probably for the best. I will be back, I told myself, although I know it'd never be the same.

Seattle
3 days and 4 flights later (Santa Marta-Bogota-Fort Lauderdale-LA-Seattle) I landed in Seattle to see my favorite family in the States. I became a live in house fairy and enjoyed all the benefits of Western society - especially the food varieties I had forgotten to miss. My time in Seattle was spent sharing meals, doing travel art and yoga classes, having naked spas, dressing up like Pete Smith and chilling out. One day I walked through the streets of downtown Seattle and saw a man wearing a raccoon hat with a great big bushy beard, he was carrying a shopping basket and in the basket was a real live fox, the fox grinned at me. My life felt complete.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Diez Dias en Ecuador

Due to time constraints my time in Ecuador was veeeeeery short compared to my time spent everywhere else. With this is mind I packed as much as I could into 10 days.

After my previously described bus trip of doom, I spent 2 days in a town called Baños. Baños is funny as the literal translation in English is toilet. However, it can also mean hot springs, which this town has a lot of. My main reason of going to Baños was to organise a trip into the jungle. However while I was there I also managed to squeeze in some time to visit one of the towns namesakes. This was hilarious as I was there alone, with about 100 Ecuadorians and about 15 other gringos squeezed in. I then had to play the no eye contact game, which is harder than it sounds when everyone is semi naked, so there are only so many other places you can look. Haha.I managed to win the game and leave unscathed and un-hit on after I was done soaking.

From Baños I took an overnight bus up to a random small town to meet up with my group for 5 days in the jungle. Sitting in the back of a truck with 2 fellow passengers, sitting on all our bags, we were transported to Cuyabeno national park - deep into primary rainforest Amazon. Stunning.


Similar to the jungle in Bolivia, we were transported in a boat along the river to take us to our jungle lodge. From here we spent 5 days doing all sorts of activities including bird watching, day and night rainforest walks, visiting a local shaman, anaconda hunting, piraña fishing, village visiting, and heaps more. We got to see sloths, monkeys, an anaconda, TOUCANS (goal for the trip completed!), other snakes, multiple cool butterflies, insects and other bugs, birds and much more. Out of everything we did there, one of my favorite activities was chilling in the hammocks, listening to the rainforest sounds and talking nonsense with some of the other peeps on my tour. I had a really great tour group and make some great friends on that trip =)


After 5 days we had to pry ourselves from the jungle and take a bus to Quito to continue on our journeys. I'm not going to lie, when I got to Quito I was fairly sure I was going to die. Everyone I met had been robbed in Quito, some of them multiple times. So, at 11pm I arrived in Quito, with no hostel reservation. Being a Friday night all the hostels were booked out....shit! While looking for a hostel we witnessed people smashing bottles, random acts of violence and a guy walking around with a wrench. Freaked out, but still in once piece a hostel was found and sleep was had.

The next day I met up with B and we went sight seeing around Quito.... hiding all of our valuables at all times. When we left Quito a few days later to head for Colombia we breathed a sigh of relief, we had made it out of Quito unscathed... If only we new what was around the corner for us in Colombia...

Sunday, November 6, 2011

Equator Land - the journey to

My time left in South America was running out. Keen to maximise the use of this time, I left B at the beach (Mancora) in the north of Peru and set off solo to the depths of Ecuador. Thinking I had found a bus that would take me directly from where I was  to where I wanted to be (Baños) I proceeded to go out all night and spend my final night in Peru partying it up with my Mancora family. With minimal amounts of sleep, I packed my bags, said goodbye to friends and headed for the bus stop with plans of sleeping for most of the 15 hour journey. But as we all know, when travelling, things rarely go to plan. 


It all started at the Ecuador boarder crossing, where I was suddenly informed that I needed to take all of my possessions off the bus as I would be taking a different bus from there. Ok, can deal with that. Collect all belongings and stand in line for 30mins with my backpack on, being physically moved around by a lady from the bus company but never being told what was going on - apparently my Spanish was that bad that she didn't even try. Meanwhile the other people in the queue are amazed at this tiny fairy girl carrying a bag so big that she suspects she can actually fit in it. They would come up behind me and, without saying a word to me, lift up my bag (which is still attached to my back) to see how heavy it was, comment to the people around them and wander off...weird. 


Finally I get to the front counter and the boarder control personnel are less than impressed with my passport and form. So... where are you from? Inglaterra (England) And where do you live? Australia ...And where is this passport from? Inglaterra ... No this passport is from United Kingdom. Yeah...... They then proceeded to examine my passport and pass it around amongst themselves. Eventually they gave up trying to understand and just let me into the country. Finally getting stamped in, the lady from the bus company piled me and 6 other people into a taxi and hurtled us off to a bus station. 


At the bus station while trying to put my bag under the bus as instructed I discovered (through the kind translation of a random girl) that I would in fact have to change buses again, por supuesto. Now, on my own (everyone else was on different buses), and scared shitless that I was going to miss my next bus change I forced myself to stay awake. No easy feat when this leg of the journey started at 9pm and I had a maximum of 2 hours sleep the night before. However, this bus trip wasn't all bad, I did get to sit next to a rich, eccentric Ecuadorian lady for a few hours who chatted to me in basic Spanish, mainly about her ridiculously fluffy cat....which happened to be climbing all over me at the time. hahaha. Random times. 


At 4am we finally arrived at Ambarto, where I once again needed to change buses. Grabbing my bag, I realised that we were not at a bus station, we were just on a main road with not much going on. During this realisation I was informed that my next bus would appear on the other side of the road and that I should go over there and wait. No indication as to when or what company it would be. So, 4am, on the side of a highway in a random Ecuadorian town stood this fairy with all of her worldly possessions. Needless to say I decided to hell with the bus ticket and the correct bus, I'm hopping on the next bus that is going to Baños! Which is exactly what I did. The bus cost $0.80, I decided saving myself from potential death or kidnapping was worth that. 

At 5am I arrived to Baños, found a hostel and finally slept. Alive, physically ok and mostly sane. Nothing is ever easy in the life of bus travel and when things are hard nobody speaks any English!! 



Thursday, October 13, 2011

The inevitable

After something bad happens, you always seem to ask, ´what if?´

What if I had kept on running instead of waiting?
What if I hadn`t moved?
What if I had everything on me?
What if I was on my own?

You know all these ´what ifs´ are only that. What if?´s. No matter how many times you ask yourself questions it doesn`t change what happened. You can`t turn back time and make a different decision. You have to accept what happened and be grateful for what didn`t.

What if the gun was fake?
What if it wasn`t loaded?
But, what if it was?

No matter who it is that is in front of you. If they have a gun pointed at your chest, you will comply.



________


Disclaimer: B and I are fine. Just minus a few cameras. We were with 4 other people and were well looked after by a local man after the event who called the police for us and then drove us to the police station so we could make a report.  After a massive communal dinner, a few beers and a lot of jokes the 6 of us could see the better side of it. Am now on the other side of Colombia, about to start relaxing on the Caribbean coast =)

Sunday, October 2, 2011

Peru - Take 2

So I finally did it. I finally not only left Cusco, but I left Peru. I think in total I ended up spending about 4.5 months in that amazing country, and it was still not enough. With the coming doom that is my flight home fast approaching I had to force myself to leave Mancora in search of adventures further north.

The second attempt of traveling Peru I actually saw quite a few more places than in the first 3 months that I was there. During my first week back I took a solo trip down to Arequipa and went hiking in the Colca Canyon - memo to self - do not attempt to do this again when you`re wearing the equivalent of dunlop volleys. During the hiking expedition I got to do many amazing things. My two favorites are as follows: 1) Got to stay over night in an oasis at the bottom of the canyon (never been to one of those before) and 2) RIDE A MULE!!! Pretty much the most excited I had been in a long time. I also discovered that being a 6 hour walk from a road and hiking in altitude will not stop a brass band. Highly amused to see one of those hiking along behind us at one point. Random much.


After another 3 weeks in Cusco I headed up to Lima to be a spy at a hostel (free accommodation for the win). Got to actually explore Lima and catch up with some people that I`d met in Cusco who live in Lima, it was actually pretty good having some locals show me around. Also got to see a laser and water show at a water park which was pretty damn cool. Look up Parque de Aguas, Lima on youtube if you`re into that sorta thing. Some of its just lasers but other parts of it actually look like movies being projected onto the fountain.


4 days after I arrived in Lima, B and Yona came and met me and we headed up to Mancora. A chilled out beach town in the north of Peru. Here we got to catch up with a whole bunch of people we know and love from Cusco. Soooo great. It was the best way I could have spent my last week in Peru. Chilling with (relatively) old friends, making new friends, chilling by the pool, rediscovering my tan, living off fresh fruit and tasty smoothies, generally taking it easy. I even did a surf lesson - keen to do them again some time - sooo much fun! After a week, with that flight of doom date creeping closer I forced myself to leave. Time to explore Ecuador.


Peru, you`ve been amazing, inspiring and my home for the last 5 months.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Cusco - The real goodbye

The thought of leaving Cusco tomorrow is bittersweet. While it will be good for my to get back into adventure fairy mode, see new places, meet new people, experience new things - the thought of leaving everything and everyone I have here in Cusco is hard to comprehend.

Put simply, Cusco feels like home. It is nothing like any place I have lived before, I don`t speak the language or eat the local food (rice, 3 types of potato and meat), I don`t work and I don`t take classes, but just feel incredibly at home. I love that when I go out I will always see people I know. I love that when I visit bars I know the people that work there. I love that I have my own room in an apartment (not looking forward to going back to hostel life, dorm room fail). I love having regular places that I hang out at. I love that BB lives 1.5 blocks from my house, so we don`t always have to go somewhere to hang out.

This time round in Cusco I have enjoyed simply living. I was lucky enough to have a friend lend me a room in his house. I relished in the fact I could watch movies in bed without using headphones, I could sleep until whenever because I didn`t have 10 other people in my room making extraordinary amounts of noise just to get dressed, I could leave food in the fridge without it being eaten by a stingy backpacker (not sure Rafael knows what a kitchen is, let alone a fridge, haha), I loved having a cupboard for my clothes instead of a backpack. I hung out with more latinos than western backpackers (although this didn`t help my Spanish at all!!). I partied waaaaaay too hard - I have seen the sunrise 50% of my nights here. I met more amazing people and made some really good friendships.  

I never committed to doing anything here as I was always convinced, even determined that I would be leaving in the next few days - at any given time. Now that that time has finally come I find myself wondering if I could somehow change my tickets. Stay for another 4 months. Get a job. Learn Spanish. But I know I can`t. I need new adventures, that is, after all why I came overseas in the first place.

I guess leaving this time is so much harder as I know it is for real. Last time I left, even if I wouldn`t admit it, I knew I`d be back. This time I know it is for good. Well.... this trip anyway. I can always come back on another adventure. Although if I lived everywhere I wanted to, Cusco, Nepal, Cambodia etc I`d never settle, I would need to move every few years - in which time I`d find more places I wanted to live.... hahaha.

Ciao Cusco, I love you.

Sunday, September 4, 2011

Bus Trip Blues

In recent times buses have been the bane of my existence. However, like every traveller on a tight budget, they´re pretty much your only option of transport.

While goats, lambs, chickens and dogs on buses appear unusual to the Western eye, they are generally not a problem - they just chill out and enjoy the ride. It´s the people that have eventually gotten to us. From a woman on a 40 hour bus ride stealing all of our food (Tengo hambre, tengo hambre..... Si, yo tambien!!!!). To children playing with our hair/clothes - or worse - constantly screaming. To families believing that 5 of them will fit in the 2 seats behind us (with their children kicking us in the back constantly for 12 hours). To everyone on the bus throwing up. The constant overcrowding with people leaning over us, using our heads as arm and bag rests. To people using our foot wells to store their excess of things. Slept on, leaned on, fallen on, buried, prodded, poked and in Bolivia, openly despised.

B summed it up well. Yes we know of personal space, we personally don´t believe in it.

My first solo bus ride this trip (Cusco to Arequipa), I was sat next to a Cholita and her young daughter - say maybe 9 months old, but it´s hard to tell. Flor her name was. Flor the baby may well be payback for when I cried for an entire plane flight. Having not slept (I decided it would be easier to go out all night than wake up at 4am for my bus), I was keen to get some sleep on my 10 hour journey. This idea was very much changed when Flor began wailing and didn´t stop for the next 2-3 hours. Her distraught mother tried everything she could for hours. Finally Flor settled and fell asleep. He head and hand resting on my knee (what personal space?). I knew at that moment there was no way I could move again until she woke up. Thank goodness I´d already peed.

Later on this bus trip I became the most uncomfortable I have been in a while. The cholitas things were all in my foot space. Her baby laying on top of said things so I couldn´t move my legs. The cholita decided this would be the perfect position in which to breast feed her dear Flor. So instead of moving the infant, she stuck her hand under my butt and leaned forward. Where she remained for the next 20 minutes. All I can say is, personal space what?

Luckily 8 hours into this journey I was rewarded for my surprising patience given the lack of sleep. She got off the bus and for the next 2 hours i had room to spread out.

Always looking for a silver lining

xx

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Underground Adventures - Potosi Mine Tour

The mine tour is the main reason travellers head to Potosi. Let me tell you now. It is definitely worth the bus ride there. After several recommendations from others we decided to go with The Real Deal tours. We chose them as the company is made up entirely of ex-miners, they know the mines better than anyone else would and they money goes directly towards helping out not just the guides, but other miners and their families. Our guide had been working in the mines for 21 years. First as a miner - starting when he was 13 - then as a guide for the last 11 years. He really knew his stuff.

The tour starts off with everyone getting into their miner gear. (Protective clothes. Hard hat with torch. Battery pack. Gum boots). Then it´s off to the miners market to buy gifts for the miners who you meet inside the mines. Appropriate gifts include coca leaves, ceibo (93% alcohol - surprisingly tasty), soft drinks and dynamite (with all the appropriate devices to make it active - all for just $2). To make us less nervous around the explosives we were holding our guide, Llama Face, decided to demonstrate to us how safe it was.....by holding a flame underneath them. Needless to say, I don´t care how many times he´s done it... it still made me nervous! Next stop was at the processing plant where we learned all about how silver is separated from the rubble.

I have to say, when it was time to enter the mine, I did become a little nervous. I reminded myself that in Brisbane I used to do this sort of thing for fun - without a  guide. Things will be ok. Take a deep breath. Turn on your head lamp and walk on in that mine.

Our guide explained to us that the mines are co-operatives, with no support from the government - hence the bringing of gifts. He also explained that the different groups working were all family groups. Brothers, uncles, fathers and cousins all working together in the mines. The miners were by far the happiest Bolivians we met. Due to being in family groups, they are constantly laughing and joking - with the motto in life ´anything is possible!´ Amazing people. Possibly also the only Bolivians we met that didn´t seem to openly dislike tourists - but were in fact happy to see us. We even had one group of miners who were on a brake share their ceibo with us.

The miners worship Tio, the devil and lord of the underground, as well as Pachamama (mother earth). The reason that they need to be friends with Tio, as he rules life under the ground. Due to this, there are many statues/shrines to Tio within the mines. When someone is hurt or dies within the mines, the miners say this is because Tio and Pachamama are thirsty for blood. To please Tio, and satisfy his need for blood, they leave offerings of llama foetus´ at his feet. Other offerings they leave include coca leaves and ceibo. Although it is common to give a small offering of these items every time you consume them - in or out of the mines.

Emerging safe and sound out the other side I felt like i´d really had my eyes opened. These men who work up to 15 hours a day underground, in what is considered appalling conditions had a better outlook on life than so many people who are much more fortunate. Amazing people indeed.

Thursday, August 25, 2011

12 Lessons learned in Bolivia

1) Bolivians don´t bargain - at least not with gringos - whatever price they tell you, that´s it. (With the odd exception of tour operators)
      - addition to said rule - you´re a gringo, you pay more. always.

2) Bolivians don´t queue. No matter where you are in line someone (or more likely many people) will push in front of you.

3) Soup is an amazing, varied and delicious food served before lunch and dinner. Generally it is much better than the actual meal.

4) Unless I am working in tourism, don´t talk to me - even then my friendliness is not guaranteed.

5) Bring toilet paper everywhere! Including hostels.

6) Never wait until you are really hungry to order food. You´ll be waiting a long time just to order, and even longer for the food to arrive.

7) If you have trouble crossing the road just look for your friendly local zebra at the zebra crossing - no kidding.

8) Brass bands are a must for every city. 5am is the perfect time for a street parade and fire crackers make the perfect accompaniment.

9) The perfection of the pressure Vs heat game in the shower. The less pressure the more heat - but if you have too little pressure the heating element stops. A fun filled sport for all players.

10) Bolivia is the only country in the world (of my knowledge) where you can pay with a note the is literally ripped in half (give them both halves) and they will accept it.

11) At altitude vacuum packed goods always explode (open away from you).

12) There is no sense buying agua con gas (sparkling water) at high altitude, as it only stays fizzy for 5 minutes, and then you´re stuck with odd flavoured water.

Have legs, will climb - salt flats tour

No matter where you are on the salt flats tour, you can bet that 3 people in your car plus half of the gringos in the other 4wds will attempt to climb on, through or over it. Maybe it is a case of restlessness caused by several hours of being trapped in a 4wd. Or maybe it is some primal desire, to explore and conquer anything new.

Rusty old trains. Climbed
Rock canyons. Climbed
Rock formations. Climbed
Abandoned rusty buses. Climbed

Ok well the last one was only by me and B while we waited at the Bolivia/Chile boarder crossing.


The salt flats tour definitely gave a lot to this explorer fairy. Aside from climbing on many different objects, we experienced: lagoons of many different colours - mostly frozen; flamingos/pariwanas (although more dead than alive); hot springs; volcanoes; geysers; the Salvador Dali desert; salt flats; salt piles; salt hotels; cactus islands; photographic fun times; snow covered everything; beautiful sunrises and star filled skies.

Definitely a highlight. Though something much better described in pictures (to be added at a later date.... )

Thursday, August 18, 2011

Operation: Be Brave, Get Naked!

Name of Experiment: Be Brave, Get Naked!

Introduction: During my time in La Paz, I happened to have a conversation with a girl about the methods of being warm in a sleeping bag. She enlightened me with a theory that had been shared with her. It entailed the following: The less you wear inside your sleeping bag, the warmer you will be. The theory behind this being that the sleeping bag reflects the heat off your body, thus wearing clothes disables this process. The words of encouragement that came with this advice were "Be brave, get naked".

Bianca and I decided to test this theory during our time in Uyuni, Bolivia. We discovered upon that you could indeed be very cold inside your sleeping bad whilst wearing warm clothing - no less than 2 pairs of thermals, winter jackets, socks and jumpers. Both of us were quite shocked at this revelation.


Hypotheses: Sleeping in a sleeping bag naked will provide a warmer nights sleep than wearing clothing.


Equipment:
1 sleeping bag
1 cold night
1 private place to sleep (preferably)
1 set of warm clothes


Method:
1) Wait until one night that is exceptionally cold

2) Take off all of your clothing (underwear is permitted) and get inside your sleeping bag

3) Make sure the sleeping bag is completely closed up. Tighten the elastic ties around the hood and neck of the sleeping bag so that cold air cannot enter and warm air cannot escape.
NOTE: Do allow enough space so as not to disrupt breathing or circulation!

4) Proceed to sleep as normal

5) Observe results via comfort in body temperature levels throughout the night.
NOTE: Do not wake up purposefully to observe temperature. Allow this to happen naturally.

6) Repeat exercise wearing warm clothing

Process & Results: We tried this theory twice during our time in Uyuni and the surrounds. The first night of the experiment we stayed in a hotel entirely made out of salt - including our beds. It was indeed a very cold night. Gingerly we took off all the warm clothing we were wearing - to say the least it was unpleasant. Quickly we jumped into our sleeping bags and silk liners, shivering and waiting for the bags to warm up.

After the initial warming period it was indeed warm inside the bag. Although my skin was cool to the touch. I chose to continue to wear my socks, B however did not - which she highly regretted. In the morning we awoke to find that yes, we had been warm all night. Well, B was warm after she decided that socks were in fact a good idea.

The next night was considerably colder. We were in a very basic hostel at around 4300m above sea level surrounded by snow. We repeated the process and achieved similar results.

Conclusion:
This experiment proved the hypothesis that "Sleeping in a sleeping bag naked will provide a warmer nights sleep than wearing clothing". However, there are a few potentially confounding factors that need to be acknowledged.
1) We had been drinking rum both nights we trialed the experiment, but not on the day we were trying to sleep with our winter clothes on. However the amount of alcohol consumed was not significant.


2) Both nights of the experiment we had a few thin blankets on top of the sleeping bags, however not on the control trial.
Antagonising the confounding factors is the fact it was considerably colder the 2 nights of the experiment than it was during the control trial.
To be sure of the results this experiment would need to be repeated with fewer variables. However I hypothesise that the results would be similar.
So next time you're spending a cold night in a sleeping bag, remember this motto. Be Brave, Get Naked!
Editors note: To avoid embarrassment and possible arrest: Avoid trying this experiment on an overnight bus or company camping trip.

The Pampas

Our time in the Pampas seemed to be another point in our trip doing things that never seemed to happen. This time it was mainly due to the abrupt cold and wet snap that the pampas experienced upon our arrival. Regardless of this it was still an amazing and fun 5 days.

 Upon our arrival to Rurrenabaque (or Rurre' for short) we were so happy to be at sea level after 3.5 months in  high altitude we were practically giddy with excitement - although this may have been the overload of oxygen our bodies were feeling. The weather was humid and smelt like rain - reminding us how close we've been to the equator this whole time that we've been hiding away in the mountains.

The first night I woke to a tropical storm beating down upon us. I lay in bed smiling, thinking of summer storms in Australia. A few hours later I woke with a start *BANG* gun shot? *BANG* dynamite? *BANG* .... the distant sound of a brass band grew louder. Por supuesto I thought, finally awake enough to comprehend the noises. It was 5am, a brass band was parading down the streets, so people were letting off fire crackers in the hostel courtyard. Por supuesto. I closed my eyes and repeated to myself, 'I love Bolivia' until I fell back asleep.

When we awoke 2 hours later the temperature had dropped significantly and the tropical storm had turned into drizzle. Middle of an English winter type weather, something I was entirely under prepared for. Not deterred we set off to Fluvial for our tour. 3 hours drive, lunch with a play fighting monkey and dog and a 3 hour boat ride in the rain later we arrived in the Pampas, partly jungle but mostly wetlands. On the banks of our camp we became acquainted with Hank. The 1 eyed, 3 footed alligator that claimed that part of the river. Although we were informed that he was mostly harmless, we all made sure to exit the boat from the other side.That afternoon we were supposed to do an activity but it was too wet. We obviously were not too put out by this as I actually have no recollection of what the activity was.

The next morning we went in search of anacondas. Although, as our guides suspected, it was too wet and cold to find any. Regardless, donned in rain coats, gum boots and war paint (mud), BB and I still had a great time exploring. At one point one of the guides called us over to a tree. Thinking he had found a snake, BB and I eagerly ran over. The guide indicated to a big hole in the tree a few meters off the ground. BB climbed the tree and looked in the hole, claiming she couldn't see anything. I climbed the tree and looked in the hole, I could see something big and black that wasn't the hole. A bird? I asked the guide. As BB didn't see anything she asked me to take a photo for her - so balancing on a branch and leaning on the tree I took a photo. Suddenly the big black thing was no longer stagnant, but flying upwards - with my face being the the only thing between it and the exit. I will admit, I let out a girly scream, much to the delight of BB and the guide. But to be honest, I was impressed I didn't fall out of the tree or drop BB's camera. Looking inside the tree again I saw 2 massive eggs. What a crap parent, I proclaimed, at the first sign of danger it abandoned their nest. After I climbed down, the still in hysterics B and Mario (our guide), explained that it was a vulture nest and that he had tapped the tree to startle it, and thus startle me! Once my heart had returned from my throat I found it hilarious as well.


Out of all of the specified activities, we didn't really fulfil any of them. We looked for anacondas but didn't find any, we fished for pirañas but didn't catch any, we went to swim with pink dolphins but they swam away and we didn't do the other thing that i can't remember. Despite all this I had an amazing time. I got to feed wild monkeys; see pink dolphins and many other amazing creatures I'd never encountered before; met some people from Chile who had an incredible outlook on life; and shared some rare moments with 3 of the guides and another guest one night around the campfire after the others had gone to bed. The guides shared folklore stories and beliefs of the area with us - which was kindly translated for me by a very patient Chilean. It's rare moments like this that I really cherish when I travel. The experiences that you don't pay for.

Back in Rurre we spent our last night hanging out with the 2 other people in our group. We sat around a fire, in the outdoor area of a bar in the rain. All 4 of us wishing we were back around the fire in the Pampas.

Monday, August 15, 2011

The Pilgrimage

At the moment I am about a third of the way through Paulo Coelho´s ´The Pilgrimage´ (1987). This book has resonated with me on so many levels. While, as with all of Coelho´s book, the book is more about the message than the story itself, there are some parts I really want to share.


¨The ship is safest in the port, but that´s not what ships were built for."¨ p21


¨When you travel, you experience, in a very practical way, the act of rebirth. You confront completely new situations, the day passes more slowly, and on most journeys you don´t even understand the language the people speak. So you are like a child coming out of the womb. You begin to attach much more importance to the things around you because your survival depends upon them. You begin to be more accessible to others because they may be able to help you in difficult situations. And you accept any small favour from the gods with great delight, as if it were an episode you would remember for the rest of your life. 
    At the same time, since all are new, you see only the beauty in them, and you feel happy to be alive.¨ p32


I feel that this paragragh really explains why it is I love travel. Everything is new and exciting and a little scary. But at the same time most people you meet are in the same situation, so they are more open and welcoming than they may be at home. I feel that travel brings out the best in people. Travelling, through giving us knew stimuli, helps keep us alive instead of meerly living. 




It is the pleasure of searching and the pleasure of the adventure.  You are nourishing something that’s very important-your dreams.  We must never stop dreaming.  Dreams providenourishment for the soul, just as a meal does for the body.  Many times in our lives we see our dreams shattered and our desires frustrated, but we have to continue dreaming.  If we don’t, our soul dies…

…The Good fight is the one we fight because our heart asks it of us…
…The Good fight is the one that’s fought in the name of our dreams.  When we’re young our dreams first explode inside us with all of their force, we are very courageous, but we haven’t yet learned how to fight.  With great effort, we learn how to fight, but by then we no longer have the courage to go into combat.  So we turn against ourselves and do battle within.  We become our own worst enemy.  We say that our dreams were childish, or too difficult to realize, or the result or our not having known enough about life.  We kill our dreams because we are afraid to fight the good fight.
The first symptom of the process of killing our dreams is lack of time… The Busiest people I have known in my life always have time enough to do everything.  Those who do nothing are always tired and pay no attention to the little amount of work they are required to do. They complain constantly that the day is too short.  The Truth is, they are afraid to fight the good fight…
The second symptom of the death of our dreams lies in our certainties.  Because we don’t want to see life as a grand adventure, we begin to think of ourselves as wise and fair and correct in asking so little of life.  We look beyond the walls of our day-to-day existence, and we hear the sound of lances breaking, we smell the dust and the sweat, and we see the great defeats and the fire in the eyes of the warriors. But we never see the delight, the immense delight in the hearts of those engaged in the battle.  For them, neither victory nor defeat is important; what’s important is only that they are fighting the good fight.
And, finally, the third symptom of the passing of our dreams is peace.  Life becomes a Sunday afternoon; we ask for nothing grand, and we cease to demand anything more than we are willing to give.  In that state we think of ourselves as being mature; we put aside the fantasies of our youth, and we seek personal and professional achievement.  We are surprised when people our age say that they still want this or that out of life.  But really, deep in our hearts, we know that what has happened is that we have renounced the battle for our dreams-we have refused to fight the good fight.
When we renounce our dreams and find peace, we go through a period of tranquility.  But the dead dreams begin to rot within us and to infect our entire being.  We become cruel to those around us, and then we begin to direct this cruelty against ourselves…What we sought to avoid in combat-disappointment and defeat-came upon us because of our cowardice.  And one day, the dead, spoiled dreams make it difficult to breath, and we actually seek death.  It’s death that frees us from out certainties, from our work, and from that terrible peace of Sunday afternoons.”  pg 50-52
Never stop dreaming and never lose courage to follow those dreams!

Friday, August 12, 2011

El Choro Trek

La Paz is nothing like Copacabana. It is more like a larger, poorer, dirtier, less friendly version of Cusco. Like Cusco´s ugly older sibling. The cityscape is random and there are massive rock formations dotting in between the suburbs. A place you really have to see for yourself to truly grasp. Deciding we didn´t want to spend much time there, we booked ourselves in to do the El Choro trek, as it was recommended by some friends. We had it on good authority that it was all downhill....it´s not.

The hike starts in sparse mountainous landscapes at 4860m above sea level. We were surrounded by snow and frozen lakes, accompanied only by our guide, his wife - who we dubbed cholita, and 3 other hikers (2 french girls and a german guy). I suddenly felt that i had severely underestimated the amount of warm clothes i had brought with me, even though i had brought ALL of them (despite the fact this was the first time we´d done a trek where we were required to carry all of our belongings - except for tents and food - but everything else - sleeping bag, sleeping mats, water, clothes etc was on our backs for the 3 days). However within 2 hours of walking we were stripping off jumpers and second pairs of pants as the mid day sun and hiking heated us up. By the end of the first day, we were in green fields next to a river and up until this point it was true, the hike was basically 6 hours of downhill.

Our guide (who only spoke spanish), explained to me that we would be staying at the small campsite as we needed to get some good sleep before another day filled with 6 hours of walking. This seemed to be going according to plan. They starting cooking dinner, BB and I did some yoga by the river to ease our muscles from a day of hiking, the sun began to set, all was tranquil... until. Suddenly, appearing in the darkness we saw 10 Bolivians, around the age of 16. The next time we looked this had doubled. More and more young Bolivianos appeared, carrying next to no equipment, until suddenly in our tranquil campsite we had a whole school group of Bolivianos plus a few teachers. In total they had one 3-person tent between about 30 of them. Over dinner the 7 of us found great amusement in watching them try and figure out some form of campsite, involving two roles of orange plastic. Although school kids being school kids, our campsite was tranquil no more.

The next day we got up early and started out again. All of us grumbling about the amount of noise we´d been exposed to the night before...getting old much??? We were warned that there would be ´20 minutes of uphill´that day. There was. It was about 80º up. We soon discovered that when they say there will be some uphill they only count it if the hill is on more than a 70º angle. Despite them lying about whether the walking would be mostly up or down hill, the scenery was beautiful and had changed dramatically since the previous days hiking. We spent most of the day hiking through cloud forests, past waterfalls and viewing a lot more bird life. That night we were lucky enough to once again share a campsite with the school group - although this time we were much further away from them. We also shared the campsite with a 6 year old girl who lived there. She, like all 6 year olds, needed to know everything we were doing at all times. To the point where she even joined in while i was doing yoga, pretty funny. Even funnier was when she followed Bianca to the (extremely open air) bathroom - which consisted of a wooden see-through hut, a hole in the ground and a few planks - at least it was well ventilated!

The third day, once again, we were lied to about the amount of uphill we were to endure. We had to get up extremely early and start hiking in the dark so as to avoid the mid day sun. By 6am we were on the track - however this meant we were able to watch a beautiful sunrise over the mountains. Most of the third day we walked through jungle type landscape, it was incredible to think we were in such a humid climate when 2 days of walking prior we were surrounded by snow and ice. Around 1pm we arrived at a small town where we ate lunch and then took a bus to Coroico, to get another bus to La Paz.

While the hike wasn´t what it was promised to be (all down hill), it was thoroughly enjoyable and not too strenuous - the uphill parts were definitely a relief for my knees by the end of the second day. The scenery was beautiful and the constant change of landscape meant you didn´t tire of it. I got a lot of thinking done on the trek - as all of the walking was done in silence. During the three days I felt like I figured out all my plans for the next year or so, or at least a rough guide. I feel I gained a lot of perspective on this hike, something that I am very grateful for.

Sunday, August 7, 2011

Reflecting on Lago Titicaca - The Bolivian side

Our real love affair with Lago Titicaca didn´t really start until we crossed the boarder into Copacabana, Bolivia. Copacabana itself is much prettier than Puno, and Isla del Sol is just amazing.

Our time in Copacabana was short, but we hiked up a mountain to a Christian monument to look out over the lake and try to watch sunset (one of our many clouded over attempts to watch sunset). Despite the clouds, the view was beautiful and it was nice to walk to up the mountain. We even got to see a wedding outside a crumbling pink church, where they had a collectivo van as their wedding car. Classy. But they looked very happy.

The next day we took a boat over to the north part of Isla del Sol, on the advise that the south was for tourists and the north was for hippies. Our friend had recommended a guest house to us, so upon arriving at the island we asked at the info desk were we could find ´Alfonzo´. To which, the man pointed to the mountain and told us ´es la ultima casa´, por supuesto (of course) we thought. Already happy with our decisions to leave most of our belongings on the mainland, we hiked up to the guesthouse. Huffing and puffing (altitude is a bitch), we arrived at Alfonzo's guest house, an unassuming place to crash, but very cheap, private rooms and full of inspiring people. To add to this our bedroom door opened up to uninterrupted views looking over the lake. All this for $2 each a night, can´t complain!!

That afternoon we spent exploring the north of the island, with a US hippy and a crazed Chilean, trying our hardest to avoid ticket booths so that we didn´t have to pay an entrance fee. It´s not that the Chilean was really crazed, but he just happened to be holding a knife (he was carving things while walking) and really liked running down hills - and wouldn´t pt the knife away in between - so for anyone else he just looked like a madman running with a knife, hahaha. We explored the island for about 5 hours, embracing the spirit of the region of trying to see pumas, condors, snakes and people in every island and rock we could see, before the sun started to set and we called it a day. After seeing the ruins we were glad that we had indeed avoided paying entrance fees.

The next day there was a festival on the island - which started at 5am. The brass band, that we had heard practicing all the day before, played in full gusto all day - sometimes during the time the other band was playing. We went to the main square to see everyone in their traditional costumes. Groups of cholitas sitting around in groups gossiping and sharing beers, giggling like school girls (It really surprised me how many of them were missing most of their teeth...). On the outskirts of the square men and women sat and drank and occasionally got up to dance. A very fun experience to watch.

Later that afternoon I was determined to go swimming. Bianca, Noah and I took to the beach, bottle of rum in hand. The day wasn´t exactly warm as it was and the water was colder. A few shots of rum later I decided it was now or never, stripped off my warm clothes and got into the sacred lake. I wouldn´t say I lasted more than 10 minutes. But the water felt amazing (despite the cold) and I felt a new surge of energy from the experience. Sharing a few precious ´Gracias Pachamama´moments with the sun and water before I retreated to the beach.

The whole time we were on Isla del Sol I had to keep reminding myself that it was in fact a freshwater lake and not the ocean. It is huge. HUGE. Islands off in the distance, no mainland in sight. An amazing sight to see and to think that people have been seeing a similar sight for thousands of years. No wonder they thought of the lake as sacred.

The next day we hopped on a boat back to the mainland, followed by a bus to La Paz - starting the next part of our adventure.

Reflecting on Lago Titicaca - The Peruvian side

Our love affair with Lago Titicaca (the sacred lake) began in Puno, Peru. When we arrived in Puno we decided straight away that it was a dump and thus decided to book an overnight adventure on the lake straight away.

Our first stop was the Uros floating islands. Whilst now more of a tourist attraction these islands have housed families for thousands of years since they took to the water fleeing attacks from both the Spanish and the Inkas. Floating islands are constructed entirely of reeds (and a little rope), we were given a brief demonstration on how they are constructed - so if the need ever presents itself, we´re set. Whilst very touristy, it was still pretty cool to see.

After the floating islands we sailed out to Amantani Island to meet our host families for the night. It´s times like this that I really which I could speak more Spanish. What we discovered over lunch via my dodgy Spanish was that the main girl watching over us was 20years old, she made handicrafts and sold them on the island, she was still studying Spanish at school (their native language was Ayamata), she rarely left the island and she isn´t interested in getting married. To keep the conversation going I told her i´d be interested in seeing the things she made - although as I rightly suspected the items were similar to what we had seen in Cusco. This was of course also a big mistake as I was then trapped in the kitchen being pressured to buy from her (´you don´t want to buy anything?´). Luckily I found some presents for people, and at least I know the money is going to the person who made the items.

Late that afternoon we walked to the top of a mountain to see the outside of a PachaTata temple that we were not allowed to enter and watch a very clouded sunset. After which we returned to our houses for dinner.

Over dinner 7 of us sat around the kitchen. Bianca and I at the table, the 3 men of the house on tiny stools near the stove, the mother in the pantry and the daughter serving everyone. The men chatted amongst themselves in Ayamata and the mother and daughter were occupied - Bianca and I were left to our own devices. We alternated between silence with staring and giggle fits about the situation - which continued to feel more awkward with every minute. Every 10 minutes or so everyone else would turn to us, as though they´d just remembered that we were there, laugh and go back to their devices. At one point I turned to Bianca, ¨I bet you they actually speak English and this is some weird kind of social experiment¨, turns out at least one of them did. Hahaha.

After dinner we were dressed in traditional costumes of the island and taken up to a hall for the evenings activities - which consisted of listening to local music and learning a strange style of dancing. The dancing consisted of holding hands in groups of 2 or 3, swinging your arms and moving your feet with no discernible rhythm. Every now and again the small groups would join together and continue this rhythmless dance as a big group. Random, but highly amusing.

The next day we said goodbye to our host families and were shipped off to Isla Taquile, a neighbouring island which we were told was much more touristy and busy. We were dropped off on one section of the island and proceeded to do a 1 hour walk, which was pleasant, finishing in the town square, which only contained tourists. We determined during this time that the only reason this island was touristy was because they brought tourists there, whether they wanted to come or not.

After 15minutes of ´free time´ we were walked to the place where we were to have lunch (not included in the price). The guide refused to let us know the deal about the lunch (even though several of us asked) until after he had given us a detailed explanation of different hats worn by men on the island - after a tiny breakfast (one small pancake) we were highly hungry and impatient. Finally he finished and told us that lunch was 20 soles for soup and an omellet! MUY CARO (very expensive)!!!! A similar meal in Cusco would be 8 soles maximum. 8 of us decided this was not on and trekked back to the main square in hope of cheaper food. Not only was this wish granted but the main square had been transformed. No longer full of tourists, but a group of school children practicing for a flag parade they had coming up. Full and entertained we reboarded the boat to Puno.

Saturday, July 23, 2011

Ciao Cusco...

Ok...I´ll be the first to admit, i´ve been really slack in the blog department during my 2.5 month life in Cusco. It´s not that there is nothing to write about, I have done many amazing things in my time in beautiful Cusco. I couldn´t say what it is. Maybe i felt too relaxed there. Too at home. So all the amazing things i did, I didn´t really feel the need to write about. Who knows?

So now that i have left my Pariwana work and home. Now that i have finally moved on to not one but TWO other places in the last 5 days (unheard of for us!), i finally feel like i should at least say something to conclude my time in my surrogate home.

I met many amazing people in Cusco, many of whom remain there now. Which gives Bianca and I the incling that we may end up dropping by to see them on our way back through Peru after Bolivia.  These people made me feel so at home that I never wanted to leave.  Had money, visas and flight dates not been there, maybe we never would have left. We also met many amazing people who came and left. Instant friendships were made, ones that will not be forgotten.

When I tell people I spent 2.5 months in Cusco, people generally ask ¨but what on earth did you do for that long?¨, to which my general reply is ¨I wish I could tell you¨. But this is a lie. We did many amazing things during our time in Cusco. (Aside from working, trying to learn Spanish and doing the Inca trail.) To make this point some of my favorite activities undertaken in Cusco that i haven´t mentioned in this blog previously (i think) include: 9 of us Pariwanaeers hiring out motorcycles and riding around the Sacred Valley for the day. Very worth it! Soooo beautiful and highly recommended! White water rafting with some of my favorites. 3 days of rafting was incredible, but these guys & girl made it soooo much better! Also highly recommended. Exploring Inca tunnels that no one seems to know about. Hanging out in the chocolate museum drinking chocolate calientes. Sitting in the plaza people watching. Dancing on bars lit on fire. Hiking up to Christo Blanco and looking out over Cusco and much much more.

I gained jobs, lost jobs, quit jobs. Gained books, water bottles and other items that just seemed to brake or disappear. I had my torch and alarm clock stolen. Lost single socks and gloves. Gained many funny memories. Lost a few brain cells on all nighters. Gained some different perspectives and hopefully lost some negativity.

I am very grateful for the time I spent in Cusco and wouldn´t change it for anything. To the people I met, friends I made and fun times I had. Thank you! It was my time to move on, but i have no doubt in my mind that one day i will return. Maybe sooner, maybe later.

Gracias Pachamama!

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

lifetime vacation

At what point does a trip turn from a holiday into a lifestyle? This is a question I have been pondering since i have become really settled in Cusco.

We are coming up to the end of our 6th week in Cusco and still do not have any plans to leave soon. If you asked me what it is i love about this place i couldn´t really tell you. It was just a feeling as soon as we arrived. We knew. It was certain that we would spend a lot of time here.

It has been really great settling down in once place for a long time. We have friends who also live here. We have jobs (in return for free beds). We have things that we like to do here. For a few weeks I took Spanish lessons (still unable to speak spanish however - but am still trying!!) and said we would leave after that. These lessons finished over a week ago. I am now volunteering for an organisation that is run by my Spanish school. Part of me thinks this may be just looking for excuses to stay, or so I can say that I am actually doing something with my time in Cusco - when I could be exploring new places. When it comes down to it, we just don´t want to leave. I think what will finally push us to move is our visa expiration date - coming up in another 6 weeks time.

But to go back to the original question...At what point does the trip turn from a holiday into a lifestyle? When people ask me of my plans they never involve going back to Australia. Of course I will make it back there at some point, but I have realised it doesn´t figure in my plan at all. My plan currently ends with going to England, working and travelling around Europe. Does this mean that travelling is now my lifestyle? When people ask me what I do at home should I be the wanker that says ´the world is my home´? If i´m working does that make this no longer a holiday? If í´m going to be away for an unforseeable amount of time does that make this my lifestyle, as by rights a holiday should involve going back to something? Is travelling my fulltime job? hmmmmm.......

Just a thought.

Thursday, May 26, 2011

The Inca Trail

Our private tour bus drove smoothlessly down the roads that had caused us so much grief and entertainment on our hot springs adventure. Gliding through small Peruvian towns in our cylindrical white capsual that as safely protecting us from the outside world.This is all too easy I though to myself, is this really clasified as travelling at all?

The doubt I was feeling disolved into a feeling of sheer patheticness on the first day of hiking. We were applauded by the porters as we arrived to our lunch spot. The very same porters who had carried all of our bags, tents, kitchen equiptment, food etc and sped infront of us down the trail to ensure the lunch tent and food was ready for our arrival. I felt like I was cheating - eating a hot 2 course lunch on a table and chairs, especially after only a few hours of easy walking.

Arriving at our campsite that afternoon the impending guilt continued. We were given individual bowls of hot water to wash our hands in and were sent to pick out our pre-set up tents to freshen up before ´snack time´. The porters were always in good spirits, but I still felt like a princess being waited on hand and foot. Especially in the mornings when hot water and tea was brought to each of our tents to wake us up.  

The second day of the Inca trail is rightfully refered to as ´The Challenge´. The first 4 hour are straight up a valley leading to dead woman pass, at 4200m above sea level (we had started at 3000m that morning). I developed a rythym in my walking - walk for 30 seconds, rest for 5 - with longer breaks every 5-10minutes. Walking on my own I had to remind myself, just keep walking, one foot in front of the other. As I reached the top, I was cheered on by group members who had summited before me. A bittersweet feeling as you realise all these eyes are watching you and you can no longer stop.

At the top of the pass we rested, waiting for others to come into sight and cheering them on. After about an hour we began what was supposed to be a 1.5-2 hour walk back down the other side of the mountain range. I was so excited to get to the bottom I practically ran to the bottom. 45 minutes later I surprised myself and the porters by being the first to arrive at camp. To be perfectly honest, by the time we arrived at camp that second day I was more than happy for someone else to have taken care of my eating and sleeping arrangements for me.


With the afternoon free and muscles that needed some serious TLC I held an impromptu yoga class for whoever wanted to join in - our group leader Ozzie joined us in the hour of yoga - much to the amusement of the porters and the guys in our group.


Day 3 was an easy hike - after the first 2 hours. The group split and I found myself walking alone for most of the morning - only passing two or so people along the way. Walking alone, I felt like an explorer, discovering the path for myelf - instead of feeling like a worker ant, marching in a line, like on other parts of the trail. That afternoon Ozzie took us on two optional extra exploration hikes to some Inca ruins in the area. Only about 6 people came along so it felt way more intimate and fun instead of trudging away.


The last day Ozzie had us wake up at 3am. He was determined that we would be the first group at the front gate - which we were. We then has to sit at the front gate for 1.5 hours until it actually opened..... The hike to Machu Picchu was mostly easy. We sat at the sun gate as a group and watched the sun rise over the magnificent ancient city - which we were then let loose to explore.


Waiting for the train home I saw so many familiar faces. People I had never met but had crossed paths with so many times on the trail. These people who we had shared the highs and lows, blood and sweat of the Inca trail with. An unspoken bond that somehow connected all of us - seperating us from people who had simply taken the train there that morning. Nods and smiles were shared. We´d done it. Despite the porters and the royal treatment, we´d done it. We´d walked the Inca trail and no one could take it off us.

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Hot springs - Warming the cockles

During our time on the Gypsy train we seemed to be on a fruitless mission for hot springs. This mission was so fruitless infact that Alex even wrote a blog about it, which can be read here: Hot Springs. So when a casual invitation came our way to join some people who work at our hostel on a hot springs adventure we jumped at the idea.

The next day, knowing nothing of where we were actually going or how long it would take to get there (except for vague (false) rumours of a 1hr bus ride, followed by a 3 hour hike), we met our companions for the journey. There were 8 of us all together, and the people we had met before we knew vaguely at best.

Excited, and severely underestimating how long it would take us to get there, we piled into 2 taxis and sped off to the bus station. From there we took a mini bus to Calca, about an hour away from Cuzco. This is where our first problem arose - there were no more busses headed to Lares that evening. Negotiations were made with taxi drivers until we found one that would rip us off the least. Desparate to get moving and not spend the night at the bus station we agreed to pay the extortionate rate of Sl. 250 (approximately $85) to get there, in a 5 seater car. With no other options the 9 of us, and all of our bags, piled in: Two in the boot with the bags, 5 in the back seat and one in the front with the driver. Once everyone was as comfortable as they were going to get, our 3 hour taxi ride began. We wound up and up and up a mountain road in the dark, sometimes acutely aware of the sharp drop off on one side of the road.

The tiny car which was obviously not designed for 9 people sat low to the ground and the never ending roadworks seemed to be working against us. A collective cringe was shared every time something scraped the bottom of the car, with each of us feeling each bump and scratch within our own bodies. At least 10 times during the trip we all had to pile out of the car so that the taxi could drive over gravel or water - or at one point so it could drive up a hill without all of us weighing it down.

At one point a policeman pulled us over ¨we´re screwed¨ BB and I thought, there is no way they´ll let us keep going. One officer took the taxi driver out of the car, the other stuck his head in the passenger window and had a conversation with the guys in Spanish that went something like the following:
            Hey where are you guys from? - Peru, USA, Argentina, Australia, Italy
            Where are you off to? - Lares Baño Thermales 
            How many of you are in the car? 8 
            (policeman laughs) Ok have fun
 The taxi driver gets back in the car and we drove off. Times like that really remind me that i´m not at home.
After 3 long and unconfortable but hillarious hours - that included being introduced to Nebus´ inner Russian (in Russia, first we have sex with the cow, then we kill it, then we eat it / in Russia we drink vodka and kill people) - we arrived at the hot springs, 5 minutes before they closed. We talked our way in - Yes sir we are all Peruvian - set up our tents and spent the night floating in hot water, drinking wine and staring at the stars. Bliss!
Early the next afternoon we reluctantly left as some of the group had to work that evening. We managed to take the last local bus of the day to Calca - which was ridiculously cheaper than our clown car taxi the night before, but equally as squishy as we had to share seats (Oh i sold your seats so now you 5 will have to stand). The bus took about 5 hours - including a one hour at a road block on a mountain for no apparent reason, and we still had another 1 hour bus ride from there.
Sleepy and already feeling like the benefits of soaking in hot water all night were erased by the jouney home we vowed that next time we would take Nibus´ truck and that we´d leave much earlier so we don´t spend as much time in transit as we do at the actual destination. 

The whole experience was hillarious and amazing. It always seems to be that the random adventure that find us are the most fun. Once again I am so happy about our casual travel style that allows us to jump on such adventures.

Thursday, May 5, 2011

The Gypsy Train - Last part of the journey from Mendoza to Salta

After a hugely deserved sleep following our re-introduction to mountaineering, we headed off in the direction of the Quilmes Ruins, Calchaqui Valley. The sun was shining and we were all not-so-secretly pleased that we did not have to wear our hiking boots and thus continue working on the blisters of doom we had procured on our hiking adventure.

The Quilmes were a pre-Incan civilisation and the site we visited is the biggest of its kind. This is about all the information we gained from the information brouchure they supplied us with as the rest of it was anti-Argentinian government propaganda. Regardless of the lack of information, the ruins were interesting to explore. It was also really great to go to an attraction that didn´t cost an arm and a leg to look around!

Here is a link to a dodgy wikipedia page about Quilmes http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quilmes_people





Quilmes Ruins


The next day we headed on up to Cafayate to drive through the spectacular red canyons. Very similar to the ones a previous national park had wanted to charge us a large amount of Pesos to drive though - except free and we could go at our own pace (not going to a national park for the win). The massive red rock formations were spectacular - with the added humour of all the names that had been allocated to them by Argentinians about what they are supposed to look like, our favorite was the toad. The two most amazing formations we thought were the natural amphitheatre and the devils throat. Both were massive holes that have formed in the rocky landscape due to wind and water. Both of them had people playing instruments in them as the acoustics were amazing.
Being toads infront of ´The Toad´
Red canyons - Cafayate



That night we found ourselves a campsite in the midst of this amazing natural wonderland and woke up the next day with the mountains glowing a fantastic red.

Our campsite in the red canyons (little white bit is the gypsy train)


The next few days were spent in Cafayate town, enjoying more wine tasting, meeting up with Jo - our friend who joined us from carnival and spray painting stencils onto the gypsy train. When considering wine tasting in Argentina, Mendoza is the area that springs to mind. Cafayate in Salta province however is sooo much better. As we were attemping to do tastings on Easter Sunday, only a few wineries were open. However the ones we went to were arguably much better than the wineries in Mendoza. The tastings were free, the wines we were able to try were of a decent quality (instead of the cheapest lines in Mendoza) and the staff were unjaded by Western tourism.
Cafayate

Emily with one of her stencils


Alaena and her stencil
Stencil by Bianca


Our last night on the gypsy train we spent on a lake just outside of Salta. More stencilling was done, goats cheese was eaten, wine and beer was drunk and we spent a reflective night sleeping cowboy style under the stars.

Stencil by me
Once in Salta we spent a few days all together, chilling out. I was lucky enough to celebrate my birthday with this great group of people i have come to know and adore getting massages, eating sushi and sharing drinks. At 4am Bianca and I said our goodbyes to the gypsy train crew and hopped on a bus to Lima, sad for goodbyes, but ready to start the next leg of our adventure.