More News from Somewhere

Return to Patagonia; or The Ballad of Sam, Claire, Lena, Jacob, Bron and Elis

elis82 — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 10:39:00 GMT

From our trip to the deepest of souths in the Americas, we made our way back up. Beginning in Puerto Natales to see the world famous Torres del Paine National Park, we continued up to El Calafate, El Chalten and then west into Puerto Varas.

Torres del Paine – Man to man with the Towers of Pain(e)

Torres del Paine is one of the most famous treks kicking around, featuring everything that one might associate with Patagonia: near vertical mountains; bipolar weather with fierce winds; huge, deep azure lakes; wind-swept vegetation; glaciers and even the odd puma. Suffice to say, it was one of the hikes we had been looking forward to since day dot of this trip.

Torres didn’t disappoint. First day, we got the bus out to the National Park, around to the ferry boarding point to get to the western end of the ‘W’ Trek. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen winds quite like this: heading along the wooden jetty to the boat, with my pack on for extra weight, both feet planted on the boards, in hiking boots, and I was physically being blown across the jetty. The wind was creating waterspouts on the lake, and waves big enough to surf on, if you were prepared to brave a glacier generated lake. But this is what the ferry was made for, and it didn’t have any problems pushing into the fierce winds to our starting point.

Our first day was a short hike to Refugio Grey, which wouldn’t have been too bad if it wasn’t for the howling head wind, coupled with a constant mixture of rain, hail and sleet. Along the way, we were met with some incredible views of big chunks of icebergs floating in the water, until finally Glacier Grey came into view, pressing either side of a small island holding on grimly against the glacier monstering it from either side. It was a spectacular view, and improved even more when the clouds above the glacier cleared, leaving it glowing in the sun against the grey backdrop of clouds dominating the sky. As we continued along, we moved into the forest, which sheltered us from the winds. The weather kept on improving, and an hour later, the wind was all but gone, the clouds had cleared and it was all feeling rather summery.

Which led us to do something rather foolish, but with a great outcome. As part of our scavenger hunt of 10 items, we had to swim in an icy lake. By which we meant, it had to have actual icebergs in it. We figured at the refugio, with hot showers at hand, plus the sun out, there would never be a better opportunity. We asked another camper if she could take some photos for us, and she agreed. It was only then that it registered that we were in bathers, and it dawned what we would be doing. Anyways, it all went well, we ran in, dove and to be honest, it wasn’t as agonising as I thought it would be, probably thanks to our bodies going into shock. And it led to us meeting Claire and Sam, from England. Later on that night we also met up with Danes Lena and Jacob. And for the next 3 weeks, the six of us were pretty much inseparable.

The next day, the weather was a lot nicer. The same lake that had resembled a stormy ocean the previous day was now smooth enough to reflect the surrounding landscapes. The lookouts where we struggled to stand upright in the wind the previous day were right for chilling in the sun. What’s the weather’s deal? Anyway, it was a really nice day’s hiking. Doing Torres del Paine during the early spring season has its sweeteners – the wildflowers were amazing. We got our first glimpse of the ‘Towers of Pain’, crossed some beautiful rivers (albeit on some of the dodgier bridges you’ll encounter at major tourist attractions) and enjoyed more glacier fresh water.

Day 3 was the French Valley. We left our main packs in the tent and just had to climb up with a day pack. It was an excellent section: on our left were mountains, more glaciers cracking away and a gorgeous river. On the right, it rose up steeply to a range that included the Torres del Paine. Multi-hued wildflowers adorned the path. The sun was out and life was feeling pretty damn good. At Campamento Britanico at the top of the section, we all chilled out in the sun on rocks amongst the rapids on the river. Life doesn’t get much better than this. We learnt more about Denmark, the Danes learnt more about life in Australia and England, it was super. During the afternoon we hiked past more mountains and waterfalls, with half a dozen condors up above riding the winds. They’re made for this territory – they can cover what is 2 hours hiking in around 45 seconds of flying, and get a better view than any of us.

On the fourth day, we hiked around to the base of the lookout. This took us for a nice stroll along the lake, before cutting in towards the second valley. We had the leggy blonde of the camelids, the guanaco, strut and pose for us, spotted more condors and all in all just enjoyed the last leg of the W. Once we made camp at the last campground, we decided to hike up to the mirador. Sam, Claire, Lena and Jacob made the wise decision to eat half their dinner before undertaking the climb. Bron and I were keener to get climbing straight away, which backfired when my blood-sugar crashed halfway up, meaning I was climbing pretty slowly until some emergency snacks kicked in.

After 4 days hiking, we reached the mirador for the towers. Unfortunately there was a bit of cloud around but it was still a pretty glorious sight. But it was even better the next morning, when at 2:30am, Bron and I dragged ourselves out of bed whilst it was well and truly below zero, got dressed and hiked up to the mirador for sunrise. There was barely a cloud in the sky, and they only served to provide additional colour. It was a chilly wait, but we made up some hot drinks and cuddled up to keep warm. As the sun came over the obscuring mountain range the towers lit up bright red – amazing! We’d seen the pictures, but seeing it in the flesh was almost spiritual. Real tingles up the spine stuff.

Torres del Paine was one of those places where my already high expectations got blown out of the water. First day aside, we had real luck with the weather, and I’m actually glad that we got some real foul weather, because I genuinely think that is part of the experience and definitely part of the charm of the hike. And meeting some good friends (we travelled with Jacob, Lena, Claire and Sam pretty constantly for a few weeks following the hike) to travel with along the way certainly added something special to the trip. A final point on the trek, and travel in general: making the 10 item scavenger hunt was essentially an exercise to make sure we tried things travelling that we might not normally do. I have to say, it’s meant that we’ve done some really fun, odd things, and anyone undertaking this sort of trip, I strongly recommend it. Lots of fun, and the second most daunting of our items is now sorted, only 2 to go!

El Calafate – Because what’s not fun about seeing an office tower fall into a lake 3 times an hour

Let’s just be clear here. El Calafate is a one trick pony. There’s not a lot to like about the town and it’s expensive to boot. Given it lies in Patagonia, there isn’t the multitude of hiking/climbing/exploring opportunities present in many of the other tourist drawcards here. However, what a drawcard: Glacier Perito Moreno. If you’re in the area, you’d be a fool to miss it. Plus, you’re travelling: if a town’s not full of fun to be had, make your own.

In El Calafate, we were camping with Claire and Sam at a municipal campsite. Seen as there were no cheap food options, we loaded up on some wood and tried our hand at asado, but to mix things up, ours were mostly vegetable. Jeez I’ve missed nutrients. Wine’s still cheap, so we got lots of that, plus a few chorizo sausages and a bit of steak for meat for the non-vegetarians, and hey presto, delicious fun times ahoy!

But the glacier. At this point in our trip, we’ve been fortunate to see a lot of impressive sites, but it’s tough not to get moved by this. The glacier extends from way back into the ice fields, across the lake and right up to the other side of the lake. It stands, sheer-edged, around 60 metres out of the water, and a couple of hundred metres below it. Whole sections, the size of a 20-odd story office building in both height and area, collapse into the lake on a regular basis, accompanied by a hugely satisfying crash and splash, followed by waves pushing around the iceberg remnants of previous avalanches. This happens a few times an hour, while anxious photographers look on, trying to pick the next point to go.

The glacier itself looks like a monstrous, blue-tinted merengue pie, with whips of ice sculptures and cracks forming through the fast moving centre. We went trekking on it, but happily on the slow-moving, stable outside edges. Bron, Lena, Jacob and I all jumped on our boat for a very scenic trip across under the wall of the glacier (you could really start to appreciate the size of it down there…) across to the starting point, got fitted for crampons and we were on our way. The glacier was dotted with beautiful blue melting holes, rivers and grand, grand views. It was a gentle trek, although when we got thirsty there was plenty of super-refreshing glacial melt water to top up our water bottles, and at the end we were rewarded with scotch (served with ice of course) and Bron’s favourite biscuit, alfajores.

El Chalten – Rock-climbers: there’s a heaven, and it’s here.

There is something amazingly Patagonian about El Chalten, and it’s not just the changeable weather and furious winds. Argentina’s youngest settlement, it was founded in 1984 to ensure that the land around it remained Argentina. The rush to slap up something in next to no time at all has resulted in a poorly designed, un-attractive and under-equipped town. A poorly designed, un-attractive and under-equipped town that happens to be located in an achingly beautiful part of the world; surrounded by cliffs on three sides with some remarkable mountain peaks interspersed with glaciers forming the backdrop behind these. And lack of footpaths, access to a reliable ATM or affordable groceries aside, not without its own charm. In the last 4 or 5 years tourism numbers have absolutely exploded, meaning the town’s means of existence has switched from dirt farming to tourist farming, with apparently much more success.

The two major draw cards for El Chalten are Cerro Torre and Mont Fitz Roy, both of which form a striking silhouette as you approach the town. On the day we arrived, it was unusually clear, so we were treated to near perfect views, which was nice.

^{Sam and Claire thought so too}

Unfortunately, when we hiked out to Cerro Torre, the clouds had moved in, and we didn’t get a great look, but the hike out there and back was still a really nice one – lots of streams, trees and decent views over the town and the gorgeous valley.

We had more luck with the trek out to the mirador at the base of Mont Fitz Roy, a beautiful clear day. We left a bit late, so I decided to run the flat and downhill sections were it was safe to do – I wouldn’t recommend this for most people, it was really treacherous underfoot! But the views from the mirador were really incredible. Mont Fitz Roy is a really striking mountain (for those who’ve seen the Patagonia clothing label symbol, it’s the inspiration for their logo), and at the mirador it was possible to soak it all in up close, along with the meltwater lake at the base and a couple of small glaciers hanging off the sides. Well worth the effort getting too.

As a hiker, the area around El Chalten was fantastic. But if you were a serious climber, there is so much on offer here, you could (and people do) spend months exploring the area. Mont Fitz Roy is still one of the toughest ascents kicking around, the cliffs would offer up a lot of fun, and if you’re really game, you could even try an ascent of Cerro Torre.

Whitest Boy Alive: Puerto Varas

Whilst travelling through the Salar de Uyuni, we met up with a couple of lovely girls from Puerto Varas, in Chile. We promised to meet up with them when we headed to Patagonia; as it turns out it was our last stop there. Alejandra and Anna (who hails from Germany) took us under their wing, inviting us to a couple of asados and introducing us to a bunch of amazing people.

Chilean parties are fun things. Not surprisingly, they start off with a spot of mingling, followed by almost comically huge amounts of meat, where everyone bullies each other into eating just one more piece, just one more piece. Pretty much as soon as the food has settled, the dancing begins. The first half an hour or so is gringo friendly ‘free-style’ dancing. And then out came the big guns, starting off with some salsa. Our new friend Francisco tried to instruct as in the basic steps. Based upon the giggles from the others around us, we didn’t take to it too well. After that they cracked out the cueca – Chile’s national dance. The dance involves a lot of handkerchief waving and is all about the man trying to woo the female, who plays all coy. At the end of the dance, the man will kneel down before the woman: if he’s done well, she’ll rest her foot on his leg. Can I just say, I’m not sure I’m down with dances where my performance will be graded by my dance partner? Awkward moments ahoy!

It was a pity the weather didn’t clear up in Puerto Varas, because it looks like it would be amazing on a clear day, with perfect shaped volcanoes lying behind the lake. But to be honest, it was nice just to be able to focus on having a great time partying with Anna and Alejandra, and all their friends, without having to think about an early start. We had a great time, and got to see a side of the Chileans we hadn’t really seen yet, and left really happy for the experience.

^{Also, this happened.}

Photos: Patagonia Part 2

elis82 — Sun, 1 Jan 2012 19:25:00 GMT

El Calafate, El Chalten and Puerto Varas

Homage to Patagonia

elis82 — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 08:04:00 GMT

Since we arrived in Argentina, a lot of Argentinians have been asking us if we were planning to visit Patagonia. I guess that Patagonia is for Argentinians what the Outback is for Australians – a large, sparsely inhabited area, where life can be tough and those that make their lives there, even tougher. For us, it had been one of the areas we have been most looking forward to throughout our trip, with the remote windswept landscapes, snow filled mountains surrounded by glacial lakes and the unique vegetation that has developed in the area.

Patagonia is actually split between Argentina and Chile, with a rather arbitrary divide between the two countries that has been subject to a lot of conjecture over the years. And upon reflection, there is something significant here, at least for Argentinian Patagonians – land possession is a huge part of the regional psyche. Forming a border between Chile and Argentina has been a long and arduous process. Every Argentinian island will be marked with a giant Argentinian flag. Towns were settled just to ensure land ownership. Indeed, the region was originally settled by the Spanish to ensure they owned Patagonia. Any map you see in Argentina will go out of its way to include the Islas Malvinas (the Falkland Islands), marked as Argentinian territory. Territory is an important thing here.

I digress. We spent a while in Patagonia, so I’ll split it into two separate entries – this entry will cover Bariloche, Puerto Madryn and Ushuaia. Puerto Natales (and Torres del Paine), El Calafate, El Chalten and Puerto Varas will be done in a second entry.

Bariloche – The Argentinian Switzerland

Bariloche’s reputation proceeded it. A land of lakes, mountains, skiing, chocolate and food. And unfortunately, more recently volcanoes. Many people in the southern hemisphere may have been inconvenienced by the eruption of Volcan Puyehue, which disrupted flights in Australia for a while there. For Bariloche, and nearby Villa Angostura, it has been disastrous. The volcano still dumps a thick heavy load on the town on a nearly daily basis, wiping out forests, filling lakes with pumice and turning the picturesque villages into bleak, grey ghost-towns.

Despite the ash raining down, Bariloche is still gorgeous, described by one Swiss person in our hostel as ‘like Switzerland, only with bigger lakes and less people’. Teams of people remove the ash from the streets, keeping things pretty, although the ash is still easily seen around the town. We had a great day of riding around the area, with some amazing views of the forests and deep, snow-fed azure lakes (all-be-it with small patches of grey pumice floating on the surface), capped off with a beer at one of several local microbreweries, and an excellent picnic and nap at a lake beach where we didn’t see another soul. A walk up Cerro Otto offered different, but equally amazing views. Wind dependent, the country side around the town didn’t seem too badly affected, even if the airport remains closed.

Not too badly affected at least, until we hired a car and headed out of town on the Seven Lakes Circuit. The trip took us through Villa Angostura, once regarded as one of the prettiest towns in South America. The people of Villa Angostura look like they are at war. The streets are piled deep in ash, their majestic lake views obscured by thick clouds of ash, the people move around like ghosts in the street as the tourist dominated industries struggle to stay afloat. It was heart-breaking stuff, and you can only hope the volcano settles down soon for their sake. Further around, and further from the Puyehue, the drive took us to amazing lakes, crystal clear trout-filled waters, reflecting snow-capped mountains: truly Swiss scenes. We got around to planting trees in one of the park areas (another on our list of ten items on the scavenger hunt), and had an incredible day all up, followed up with a party back in the hostel.

The ash may be impacting upon Bariloche, but it’s still an amazing place to visit. The chocolate is really world-class, and complemented with some tasty game meat (local specialities are wild boar and venison) and delicious hand-crafted beers. The people are friendly, there is still a lot going on in the streets and it was an excellent 5 days or so, combining some nice outdoor time with some stomach-expanding relaxation. The weather was so warm we spent most of our time in T-shirts, enjoying the very long summer days. Given the number of services, the food options and the weather, it was hard to believe we were in Patagonia at all!

Puerto Madryn – Who’s Watching Who?

Initially, we weren’t sure if we’d make it to Puerto Madryn. It was a fair way out of the way from our overall itinerary, but after hearing some of the tales of marine wildlife spotting from a few of our friends who’d visited there, we decided it couldn’t be missed. We are so glad we didn’t skip this incredible place.

The primary attraction at Puerto Madryn is the wildlife, especially around Peninsula Valdez. It’s the only place in the world where orcas hunt by beaching themselves on the shore to take seals and sea lions. We arranged a tour out there. On our way out, we saw a pod of Southern Right Whales swimming out near the beach at Puerto Madryn – good start! After a quick stop at a little information centre, we headed to the dock for a whale watching cruise. In the promotional video, we’d seen footage of whales passing under the boat, and we were one part skeptical and one part uneasy about this – the idea of the boats approaching the whales so closely was one that we didn’t think was a good long term idea.

The boat motored out into the bay where the Southern Right Whales were resting from their migrations along the coast. The boat stopped, and we could see a whale swimming around and slapping it’s tale about 150 metres away. Within a couple of minutes, a couple of other whales surfaced nearby, with some more tale and fin slapping. Out of the blue, one surfaced up right next to the boat, and actually passed underneath it, looking up at us with one huge beady eye! At this point another whale was breaching in the distance. A mother with a white skinned calf was swimming alongside the boat for a few minutes. Several other whales were swimming up to, or under the boat, to check out these weird small critters hanging about in the bay. We couldn’t stop grinning, it was an amazing experience. Towards the end, it met its crescendo, with several whales playing around the boat at the same time; breaching, slapping, watching and more baleen fun and games. We didn’t know where to look! Really, really incredible, and it seems that the whales were as interested in us as we were to them. Huh.

Our next stop was at a penguin rookery, home of hundreds of Magellan penguins. Whilst the whale watching impressed me with its environmental sensitivity, this was much less impressive. The carpark ran right up to the nesting area, a two foot fence keeping humans on their side. A penguin standing guard of its nest didn’t seem overly impressed with the number of gawking visitors coming to within an arm’s length of its nest. Apparently a little while ago, someone was caught trying to steal a penguin and eggs to take out of the country. Poor carpark environmental design principles aside, it was fun to watch the penguins playing around doing their thing on the beach front, swimming and flapping around and the like.

We had a couple of stops to look at elephant seals, as well. The big males were all out hunting at this time of year, but we could see all the pups and mothers, as well as a few adolescent males, who were starting to develop their trunk. At the last place, as well as more of the elephant seals, we also got to spot an armadillo and, as we’d really, really hoped, but not expected: a pod of orcas! Admittedly, they were a fair way away, but still we got to see them hunting around, jumping and even catch a seal. A cool highlight to cap off a very nice trip.

Puerto Madryn has more going on than just Peninsula Valdez: the beach area is nice too. We went for a walk along the beachfront at sunset, and were treated to a really nice sunset, as well as continuing our habit of being the local street-dog whisperers, gaining some more faithful followers for the walk. We’re really glad that we decided to include Puerto Madryn into our Patagonian wanderings. The wildlife spotting was the best we’ve had since the Galapagos, and I’m not sure I’ll ever have a whale encounter like that again.

Ushuaia – At the World’s End

For us (and many other travelers), Ushuaia represented the end of a huge journey south: from Whitehorse, Yukon in Canada all the way down to the southern-most city in the world. Coming in, we weren’t completely sure what to expect, but Ushuaia, located in Tierra del Fuego (the land of fire) really does feel like you are at the end of the world. Pristine waters, oddly attractive bogs and snow-capped mountains combine with the famously strong winds to produce a place that really feels like the end of the civilised world. Finally it felt like we were truly in Patagonia.

Ushuaia, the city, is a strange creature. As the staging point for the vast majority of tourist trips to Antarctica, it caters for the more cashed up sort of tourist. In this harsh, wet and wild island, it is dominated by souvenir shops, cafes and parrilladas. The sun set sometime around 10:30pm, and it was light by about 3am, without ever being properly dark. The hostel was filled with people writing up their monuments to driving, bicycle or motorbike trips south from the north. Our (rather fraudulent) contribution was thus:

The fun to be had here is in getting out of the town (although it can get some amazing sunsets) and into the surrounding national parks. Some amazing walks reveal bogs, mountains, glaciers and trees. Others reveal the damage from a fairly unexpected feral species, causing massive environmental damage in the area: beavers. Yep, the little toothy bastards were introduced into the area in the 1940’s to create an alternative industry for the area. The unfortunate timing coincided with the death of beaver as a popular clothing material. Without any natural predators, they thrived, damming up many of the rivers and quickly reaching plague proportions.

To celebrate our arrival south, we headed to a parrillada to try the local lamb, which has a very good reputation. Most of the parrilladas here serve what they call a tenedor libre, a ‘free fork’, or buffet. This is the stuff of carnivore dreams – several types of animals, spit-roasting on open flames, before being pulled off and flame grilled. The result is succulent, delicious meat, accompanied by a good selection of salads. After months since our last taste of lamb, it was a real treat – we’d almost forgotten how strong the flavour is!

To best experience Tierra del Fuego, we hired a car for a couple of days, allowing us to camp and to access some more remote areas. This allowed us access to check out some glacier valleys, lakes and mountains that we otherwise wouldn’t have seen, and to camp at the gorgeous national parks.

It took us three places to find what we considered the ‘true’ Patagonia, but as soon as we found it, we were entranced. The wildness of it, the wind and cold, the unique trees and vegetation, the mountains. This is what we’d travelled so far south to see, and it sure is some place.

Photos: Patagonia Part 1

elis82 — Tue, 27 Dec 2011 03:05:00 GMT

Bariloche, Puerto Madryn and Ushuaia

Around Buenos Aires: Mar del Plata and Colonia del Sacramento

elis82 — Thu, 15 Dec 2011 23:29:00 GMT

As mentioned in my previous blog, we loved Buenos Aires. Another nice attraction of Buenos Aires is the amount of places within a relatively short distance. We didn’t make it to the well-spoken-of Tigre, but we did head down the coast to Mar del Plata (Mardel) to catch up with Maria and Mattias, our friends from our Panama to Columbia sailing trip, and caught the ferry across the Rio Plata to Colonia, in Uruguay. Mardel is a beach town super popular with Porteños in the summer, and Colonia, well, a little different.

Mar del Plata

Mardel was another classic example of amazing Argentinian hospitality. Mattias met us at the busport, drove us back to his mum’s house where he was housesitting. Being a Friday night, a bunch of their friends were coming around for an asado. One of their friends comes from a family whom run an organic goat farm, and they brought a whole kid for the asado, to go with the chorizo, empanadas, breads, cheeses, beer, wine and the rest of the trappings at the table.

Mattias and Maria’s friends greeted us like old pals, Argentinian style, and we were included all night. It felt just like a barbeque at home, with too much food, wine and beer. After the meal, we were introduced to the traditional Argentinian digestive Fernet, as well as the phrase that sums up Argentinian eating so neatly: “comer asado, tomar Fernet” (eat asado, drink Fernet). It’s good with Coke.

The next day, Maria took Bron to a friend of hers to get a haircut, and Matt took me to his apartment to get some stuff. It turns out Matt is an incredible artist, some amazing work, with a recurrent Pinocchio character present with all manner of personalities, and lots of mosaic style incorporated over excellent paintings. And he can play guitar. And cook. And he’s a doctor, for children, but takes one day off a week to make sure he can surf enough. What a guy!

After a drive along the coast checking out the coast (no waves; Mattias was bummed) we caught up with the girls, went for a drive through town and headed out for a picnic at a local hedge maze. We munched on tasty Mardel cheeses and salamis, tried walking on the not-so-tight-rope (I got within a step of the end, so close!), and tried to crack some of their puzzles. After lunch we hit up the maze, a really pretty hedge affair. Bron was the quickest mazologist. The local kids don’t really seem to get the point of the mazes, preferring to slip through gaps within the maze rather than, well, try to find the actual path.

Once we’d solved the labyrinth, we tried out their mini-golf range. Strangely, rather than the usual putter, we were given a driver and a pitching wedge. After about 6 holes, the setup got a little vague, so we invented our own hole to take advantage of the clubs we’d be given. This was going ok, until Bron’s first shot ended just behind a rock. She swung with the pitching wedge, drove the ball into the rock, and it sailed up, up, up… and down into the middle of maze. Once we figured it had landed safely enough, we collapsed in fits of laughter.

That night, we had a seafood asado for dinner. I’ve never seen a fish butterfly cut before, but it’s an excellent way to barbeque fish, I thoroughly recommend it. It keeps the moisture in beautifully and lets the smoke from the coals flavour the flesh nicely. Excellent with lots of white wine.

Our last full day in Mardel was spent at the beach. It was one of the first really sunny, nice days of the season, Mattias was chomping at the bit for a surf, and the rest of us were keen to check out the Beach Club where Maria and Mattias had just joined up. For the uninitiated, a Beach Club is a beachside mini-resort type place, where members get access to bathrooms, a nice sunbaking area (complete with hammocks, padded deckchairs, hot showers, a pool and cocktails – we had another asado just to keep our meat levels up...), parking and lots of other features. I’m not sure they’ll ever appear in Australia, but a different way to see the beach. It was great just to get some sun before our adventures in Patagonia, where we assumed sun exposure would be at a minimum.

It was great to catch up with Maria and Mattias again, such wonderful people. Definitely one of the absolute best parts about travelling for a long time is being able to meet people on the road, and then see them again in their hometowns (or show them around yours). We’ve been able to experience that twice within Argentina, and the hospitality on both occasions has been second to none, and highlights of our trip.

Colonia

Once we’d finished hanging out and eating assorted animals with Maria and Mattias (sorry to any vegetarian readers for all this, I do respect your choices, even if Argentina doesn’t!), we made our way to Colonia in Uruguay, just across the very wide Rio Plata from Buenos Aires. The fast ferry took a couple of hours to cross, to give you an idea of the width. The Lonely Planet for all of South America describes Colonia as one of the top 10 places to visit in South America because of the beauty of its old architecture. A big call, given gorgeous and colourful Cartagena didn’t make the list.

When I was a kid in primary school, we got taken to a place called Pioneer Village, in Armadale near Perth. It was set up to create a replica of what life was like in settler times in Western Australia, an interactive, if a touch uninspiring, museum. I guess Colonia is a bit like that, only stranger, a broader range of time periods represented and without an admission cost. Coming off the ferry was a little weird. The first thing we were met with was the local hire car companies, only instead of hiring cars to get around, they hired golf carts.

We grabbed some lunch, wandered down the cobbled streets and reached the port. At this point we were unimpressed. With the cost of the ferry and the overpriced accommodation, this was turning into an expensive 24 hour jaunt. Spirits were low.

But we kept on exploring. We saw the cobbled streets. We saw the old buildings. The olden style cars and carts placed thoughtfully amongst the bougainvillea bushes. We climbed up the lighthouse to enjoy the views over the city. A couple of hours at a gorgeous café, watching the sky change as the sun set, and slowly it started to grow on us. A couple of beers and a tasty meal in the warm air and a nice stroll along the water-front and we were there. This old, touristy city had grown on us. We even bought possibly our strangest souvenir yet: some house numbers for our place back at home. I wouldn’t say that we loved Colonia, or that it’s worth more than a night of your time (it’s very small…). However, it is pleasant. If you’re thinking of heading through Uruguay, then it’s definitely worth a visit, but as an overnight trip to and from Buenos Aires, it’s probably just not amazing enough for the cost. It’s just no Cartagena.

Photos: Mar del Plata and a night in Uruguay

elis82 — Wed, 30 Nov 2011 23:25:00 GMT

Visiting our pals Mattias and Maria, and 24 hours in Colonia

Photos: Buenos Aires. Ironically polluted, but still incredible.

elis82 — Mon, 14 Nov 2011 11:15:00 GMT

Being one-60,000th of a Professional Soccer Player, and Other Adventures in Buenos Aires

elis82 — Mon, 14 Nov 2011 10:59:00 GMT

Buenos Aires sure was a head-spinning week or so. We watched a game of soccer in a crowd famous for being the most fanatical and passionate in the world; we attended a local birthday at probably the biggest house we’ve ever been inside (as a guest); we ate a whole heap of meat; smelt rotting rich corpses; arrived from our longest direct bus trip yet; got tattooed; visited a kilometer long street market full of antiques and watched sexy dancing. That’s quite a bit, so let’s start at the beginning.

Story 1: Getting to the Party On-Time (or several hours late…)

Ok. So leaving Sao Paulo, we (despite Bebeto’s advice and efforts to find us a cheap flight) took a bus directly to Buenos Aires. Sao Paulo to Buenos Aires is a distance of 2,200km. The bus was scheduled for 36 hours, which is an awful long time, getting off only for food. It took 40 hours. They didn’t even show a movie. Even the Bolivian buses showed movies. Brazil buses, you guys are expensive lazy jerks.

So our bus ended up arriving at 2pm. We’d arranged with our Argentinian friends Arnie and Marusia, who we’d met in the Galapagos Islands, to get to their place around 2pm – it was their daughter Isabella’s 13^th birthday. So we headed to the CBD, dropped some stuff off at our hostel for the next night, grabbed a couple of empanadas for lunch and went to find a birthday present for Isabella. We found an awesome little gift store with all sorts of gifty things, but we could already see that BsAs has incredible shopping.

Finally, around 5pm, we got in a taxi and made our way to Arnie and Marusia’s. They actually live in a private gated community called Pilar, about 45km outside of the city. When we arrived at Arnie’s place, we were gobsmacked. The place was massive, and really beautifully done. The house utilised Mexican-influenced architecture with a gorgeous huge outdoor area, linked in beautifully with the adjacent rooms in the house: perfect for entertaining a 13 year old’s birthday party! We caught up with Arnie, Marusia and their lovely kids, and exchanged news from our recent past over some delicious caipirinha’s, while Arnie and their cook started to get their asado going.

Australian’s pride themselves on their barbeques, so do Americans. South Africans will talk for hours about how delicious a brai is. And all three are completely justified in their pride in their outdoor cooking prowess – they are all different and all delicious. However, none of them compare with the Argentinian asado. The asado is cooked on hot charcoals, and inevitably means bad news for several species of animal for each meal. An Argentine friend recently explained that when catering for an asado, you work on the basis of 500 grams of meat per person, plus a chorizo sausage not much smaller than their forearm.

Arnie’s asado was predictably excellent, he’s the sort of person who takes pride in everything he does, and doesn’t leave things to chance for turning out how he’d like. While cooking and chatting, it was great to see all the kids playing sport in the backyard, they’re all little athletes! We got to meet a bunch of Arnie and Marusia’s friends and family, all lovely folks too, and everyone made us feel like old friends. It was super to catch up with those guys, we’re really touched that they invited us into their home, and really hope we get to return the favour in the future.

Story 2: That’s Quite a Market

In BsAs, we were staying in the region of San Telmo, which used to be the abode of choice for all the brightest and best of Buenos Aires, until some plagues put large parts of the brightest and best 6 feet under the ground, meaning a move to higher ground at Palermo. Some time after the rich moved out and the plumbing was improved, it became a Bohemian artist district. Now it’s becoming yuppy town again, filled with boutique clothes stores, art stores and dozens of antiquaries.

Each Sunday in San Telmo, there is a market that runs down one of the streets running north to south for about a kilometer. The street is closed to traffic, and venders of mate cups, clothes, artwork, food and all other manner of things move in. Street performers and buskers ply their trade to the thousands of tourists and locals alike wandering through looking for something special. The highlight (aside from some delicious choripan – Argentina’s entrant for Miss Hot Dog) was the antique market. Argentina celebrated its bicententary last year, and in that 200 years, apparently nobody in Buenos Aires has thrown anything out, instead selling them in San Telmo. You could find everything from house numbers to instruments to old Playboy magazines and everything between. Pretty cool stuff, you just don’t see it in Australia.

Story 3: ¡Yo Soy Boca!

Argentina is generally regarded as having the most fanatical soccer fans in the world. Within Argentina, the most fanatical supporters are from Boca Junior, where the fans are known as Jugador 12 (player number 12) and the club where Diego Maradona played. We found ourselves in the most fanatical part of the crowd, on Maradona’s birthday (he was at the game), in a top of the table clash. We got there pretty early to get a decent spot, and saw most of the reserves game too.

As the main event got closer, the local supporters piled into the stadium, and toilet rolls and ribbons started flying, flags dropped down over our head and everyone around us started singing, dancing and climbing up anything that might let them get a better view of the game. Which was strange, because once the game started (and especially after Boca knocked in 2 quick goals) no one around us really seemed to be watching the game. They were more interested in singing and dancing and making sure everyone else was doing the same. The pushing and shoving started to feel like a little bit like a mosh pit, but all good natured. We did our best to get the hang of the words, but mostly we were just singing the tune, but the locals seemed to appreciate the effort. The atmosphere was like nothing I’d ever experienced before; like a major sport event mixed with a punk rock concert, but all happy. People were doing things that would get them kicked out of any sporting event in Australia. Half the guys that we could see around us had tattoos with the club logo. These guys (and it was almost entirely guys in this section of the crowd) really know how to get into a sporting event.

Boca ended up winning 3-1, which was a relief to the riot police and firemen at the ground who would have to clean up the mess afterwards. There were hundreds of riot police there, armed with batons and occasionally shot guns (is that really an appropriate crowd control weapon?). But all the punters were happy, and we made our way on to the pub to celebrate, chowing on pizza and drinking beer with a few of the other guys from the game. We ended up leaving at around 1am, passing a couple shagging in the street (colourful BsAs!), and Bron and I found a place to grab a bite to eat.

Story 4: One prick and you’re committed

Over the last few months, I’ve been thinking more and more about getting a tattoo. Eventually, I made a decision that when we were in Buenos Aires I’d get one done, on the basis that it’s probably likely to be more regulated and cleaner and blood-transmitted-infection-free than, say, Bolivia (not that I’m implying that tattooists in Bolivia are hepatitis ridden cowboys using old bamboo for their work), but still, from what I’ve read, around a quarter of the price of Australia. Over time, Bron and I developed a design that we were happy with, although we were still finalising some of the final details 20 minutes before walking into the parlour, and worked out exactly where I wanted it (right calf as it turns out). Even at that point, I wasn’t positive I could follow through with this, it was pretty nerve-racking. Combined with the fact that I wasn’t sure I’d be able to find an English speaking artist (our Spanish is decent, but this isn’t the sort of thing where one wants a misunderstanding), and never being tattooed before, I wasn’t completely sure what to expect.

After a search on the internet, we found a highly recommended parlour called American Tattoo in the very cool Bond Street Complex, a shopping centre/homage to all things underground, full of tattoo parlours, music shops, piercing parlours, graffiti and the scent of weed. I could not have been more impressed by this outfit. They had an excellent waiting area, complete with a chandelier and cool artwork; their receptionist and a few of the tattooists spoke excellent English; it was hospital clean; none of the guys working there looked like they were on parole. The quality of their art all seemed excellent. They made sure I saw that all of the needles were auto-claved and that I was all disinfected before being pricked. Within minutes of arriving we were completely at ease, and feeling good about things. My artist, Nacho, gave us some really good advice on how to improve the design, with the introduction of shading, and using a font for the words that will age well (rookie tip: cursive writing is only good for BIG writing). While he prepared a final template of the design, Bron and I wandered around the shop; Bron ended up replacing her belly ring with a nice new shiny number.

I was surprised how quickly the actual tattooing process took. It took around an hour, and with the exception of the odd place here or there it was pretty painless (the soft skin near the knee was the sharpest), and a few times I almost dozed off. A tendency to kick or jerk sometimes when I’m about to fall asleep meant that this could have been disastrous, not to mention uncomfortable.

Although it’s still in the healing stage, I’m really happy with the outcome. The shading is developing nicely, the lines are really clean, and I (and importantly, Bron) both think it looks good on me. So yeah, if thinking of getting a tattoo in Buenos Aires, rest assured: they’re clean, they’re good at what they do (hell, pretty much everyone in Argentina seems to have tattoos) and they’re good value.

^{Here's the final product, though still healing, so it'll keep improving!}

Story 5: Why I Never Want to be Buried in a Tomb

South America is resplendent with massive tourist attractions. The Galapagos Islands, Torres del Paine, Salar de Uyuni, Iguazu Falls, the Amazon. Cartagena, Machu Picchu and Christ the Redeemer are all great examples of more anthropocentric attractions. Definitely one of the stranger major attractions we’ve seen is the Necropolis of Recoleta, where those best and brightest whom escaped San Telmo were placed when they died, in giant tombs of ornate splendour. Which is great, except when your family stops visiting you, the stained glass window breaks, and eventually the wooden coffin you were put in becomes a little less airtight - resulting in the occassional wiff of, well, yeah. The result is (and bear in mind this walking through a place where generations of families put each other in boxes, and stuff them on top of each other, kind of like spare clothes in a storeroom) a little disturbing.

Malodors aside, it was still a strange place. Some nice statues and beautiful mausoleums mingled with buildings 150 years old that were in clear neglect, where across the path, a family would be inside their families tomb changing the flowers and dusting up a little. There was a queue to walk past Evita’s tomb; it’s possible to see her coffin looking through the glass. As interesting a sight as this is, and if you go to Buenos Aires, I’d recommend an hour or so of your time is in order, I’m not sure I’d want to pay a huge amount of money to be shelved in a tourist attraction.

^{Dr Jose Carallero's (it means Knight) family didn't spring for the long lasting monument.}

Story 6: Tango ‘til they’re Sore – A Tom Waits Reference

Buenos Aires is the city of tango. It was invented here, and is easily the most popular dance. So whilst in BsAs, we caught a tango show. Nothing over-the-top (and there are some incredibly over-the-top shows), but it was still a remarkable experience.

Neither of us ‘know’ dance, but the athleticism, precision and speed of the dancers was pretty incredible. There was a small orchestra and singer which added to the atmosphere and we were close enough to hear the dancers’ feet on the wooden boards. The costumes were amazing, the girls pretty and lithe, the guys greasy and sleazy, all the dancers amazing, and it really was a hell of a lot of fun.

Each dance was a story. Some romantic, some funny, some burlesquish - celebrating tango's invention when drunk men danced together. They were well orchestrated, well told and allowed the dancers to show just how damn good they were.

The orchestra deserves a special mention. They had the best piano accordian player I've ever seen kicking around providing a super backdrop, whilst the singer managed to add a real extra element to proceedings whilst also sounding like he had 2 kilograms of testicles. Superb stuff.

Round Up

A while ago, after claiming that Santiago was winning the most livable city in South America contest, a friend, whose opinion I trust, politely told me to shut up until I’d seen Buenos Aires. Henceforth, I’ve had pretty high expectations for this city. And happily, it has lived up to and exceeded these expectations. The food is good, and actually pretty varied. The infrastructure is good. The city is safe, vibrant and fun. There is loads to see, there is nice weather, and lots of good day trips.

One last thing, and I apologise, this has been a long entry. Argentinians, and the people from Buenos Aires, have a reputation for being arrogant and a little standoffish. From our week or so there, and our experiences travelling, we’ve found it completely the opposite – they are welcoming, proud to show you their city, and itching to feed you a whole heap of meat. Some city.

Brazil - It's Big

elis82 — Tue, 8 Nov 2011 22:27:00 GMT

After a longer than planned stay at Puerto Iguazu waiting for our Brazilian visas, we crossed into Brazil. All of a sudden, our hard earned Spanish was next to useless, as the language turned to Portuguese (I bitched about this until I realised that given the population of Brazil, Portuguese may be the dominant language in Latin America, or at least South America), Iguazu became Iguaçu, and the national dress code became 6 inch high-heels, dresses and a load of makeup (for the women). We had a couple of hours to visit the falls from the Brazilian side: this side offered a more panoramic view of the falls, although it wasn’t as spectacular as at the Argentinian side, just due to the proximity of the falls. Still, incredible is incredible.

That evening, we caught a night bus to Sao Paulo, known to the locals as Sampa. Sao Paulo is huge. With 19 million people, it almost has the population of Australia in the space of a single city. It’s the economic powerhouse of South America (and probably the only place in South America where there is a real powerful work ethic as part of the culture), the biggest city in the southern hemisphere and seventh largest city in the world. Interestingly, there aren’t any huge skyscrapers in the city, but hundreds of thousands of mini-skyscrapers, topping in at around 20 stories, sprawling across the city as high density suburbs. It has the biggest Japanese population outside of Japan, a huge Italian and Arabic population, and a real immigration culture, complete with the benefits this brings of delicious food.

We checked into our hostel (the excellent LimeTime Hostel, run by the equally excellent Bebeto) got some food at one of many tasty ‘by the kilogram’ restaurants, spent the afternoon working out our plan of attack, and tried some of the pizza Lonely Planet claimed was better than Naples (it was good, but I’m going to back the Italians in on this one). The next day we headed out, Bron bought a sexy new Brazilian bikini, and then we headed to the Municipal Market.

South America has a lot of good points, but variety of food just isn’t one of them. This possibly made the Municipal Market seem such a tasty godsend. Forgive the dramatics, but we were almost having to wipe back tears of joy as we meandered through alleyways devoted to pork, scores of suckling pigs hanging from the roof, hams and racks of ribs as long as my arm; choked back gasps as we passed the delis, resplendent with French cheeses and wines, salamis of all manner and pools of marinated olives, artichokes and feta; goggled at the fresh looking salmon and cod at one of six fishmongers and soaked up the colours, shapes and aromas of all the (surprisingly expensive) tropical fruit stands. For lunch, we grabbed a mortadella sandwich about the size of your head, with 2 inches of delicious ham, mixed with sundried tomatoes and cheese. Our risk of coronary disease may have sky-rocketed, but we regretted nothing.

That evening, we headed out with Bebeto and a few others from the hostel to taste Sampa’s nightlife. A word on Bebeto. Bebeto has adopted Sampa as his own, and is super proud of his city. He moonlights as a DJ, and after meeting a bunch of Australians in the hostel, and getting along well with them decided to visit Australia. Long story short (you can find the long story here: http://garfolino.tumblr.com/post/4431086691/deported), he’d arranged to DJ for a friends party in Australia, and customs got wind of it. So as he entered Australia, he got questioned by customs, and they contacted his friend he was DJing for and asked if he was getting paid at all; turns out they were going to pay him $50, which earned him a night in a detention centre before being deported back home. To this day, he’s still got a white jacket with the Australian coat-of-arms on it, as well as ‘Deported from Australia’ in big letters on the back. He’s also got a Cut/Copy (see below) shirt he bought from the Brazilian version of Target before he’d ever heard of the band. Nowadays, his main work in the guesthouse involves showing guests how to have fun in Sampa (i.e. clubbing 7 nights a week, where he appears to know everybody in the city), administrative work in the hostel, and maintaining an incredible afro. I digress.

We started off at the Puma Social Club, a temporary bar set up by Puma, the sportswear brand. We had a couple of beers, and stopped for some pizza. The pizza joint had all the normal suspects, but also included some tasty chocolate and m&m options. Surprisingly edible! The second bar was Vegas, which was part of the Smirnoff nightlife exchange project, the idea being to create an experience of a bar from a different part of the world. In hindsight, this may not have been the most effective way to sample Sao Paulo’s nightlife, but it was fun anyway. Good night out.

The next day was the birthday of Jason, an old workmate of mine. By chance, Australian band Cut/Copy were playing in Sao Paulo, so we were all heading out there. Jase used to work at LimeTime when he first arrived in the city, so we all met up there (after Bron and I gorged on an incredible lunch of All-You-Can-Eat Japanese), and then Jase’s lovely girlfriend Roberta drove the four of us to the stadium, where we met a bunch more of Jason and Bebeto’s mates. Cut/Copy put on an amazing show, really cool. After months of Reggaeton and Andean folklorica (panpipe) music, this was a nice change of scene. The show finished up around 1-ish, and it was time to hit the clubs.

At the first club (the Fun House), Bebeto arranged a free birthday drink for Jase. We’d already had a bunch of Smirnoff Ice’s at the concert, and then Jase got hit with a cocktail made of big shots of rum, tequila and absinthe. This progressed his night along somewhat. The rest of the night was spent drinking and dancing at an indy bar (ooh I just remembered it was called the Lab). Around 5am, we decided it was time for some dinner, and we went to a huge 24 hour bakery which was packed with revellers from the night, as well as the odd business man in a suit making an early start. Bron and I shared a giant sandwich, so good. So unhealthy.

The next day, we were off to Rio de Janeiro. We ended up arriving around 9 or 10 in the evening, and then once we arrived at our hostel in Ipanema, we realised that we’d left our passports with the bus driver when we’d checked on. This was a bad thing. The hostel called the bus company for us, but it took a day of chasing (and the hostel staff were amazing with this: they kept calling the company throughout the next day without us following them up) until they turned up, in the bus maintenance depot, late in the afternoon. That evening, we got a taxi out to the depot, which predictably wasn’t located in the nicest part of town. Initially, the driver wanted to drop us off at a bridge so we could walk to the depot, where there was a big favela (Favela’s are Brazil’s versions of project houses: dangerous slums, run by drug dealers, with lots of violent crime). A cop car was parked there, and both the offices had automatic weapons sitting on their laps, just in case they needed them. It took a while to explain to the driver that we’d really prefer to be dropped off at the depot, if it was all the same, and ideally have him wait to take us back to Ipanema, rather than walk through this neighbourhood, being all whitish and robbable. Eventually we found the depot, and got our passports back, a massive relief.

The rest of Rio was spent as time at Rio should be spent. The beaches are lovely there (I still rate Western Australia as having the world’s best though!), with a real energy, although the water was really cold. There is no shortage of beautiful women wearing next to nothing for the guys, or athletic guys wearing not much either for the girls, vendors selling beer, chips, cocktails and chairs, Brazilian’s proving their skills at soccer or volleyball, surfers and sun. Basically, the Rio beaches do everything they claim on the packet. And after three or four months in the Andes, it was just what the doctor ordered. Sitting on Ipanema Beach, eating a picnic dinner and drinking beer, watching a gorgeous sunset backdrop behind a 6 Star Surf Competition isn’t something I’m likely to forget in a hurry.

We did most of the other sights that one needs to do in Rio: Christ the Redeemer, the Madness (a whole bunch of steps covered in tiles from around the world), the rain forests; and they were all great, but this place is about its beaches.

From Rio, we returned to Sampa for the night before getting an onward bus to Buenos Aires. We caught up with Jason and Bebeto, and headed to the Outback Steakhouse, an Australian themed restaurant, in the manner of so many other themed steakhouses. The menu was worth a laugh, containing gems such as Adelaide Chicken, Bloomin’ Onion and the like. We also learnt that porterhouse steak was a typical Melbourne dish, and that cheese fries (chips with cheese, bacon and ranch dressing – anyone who ever visited a Lonestar Steakhouse will know what I’m talking about) is a traditional Australian dish. ¿Que? Take nothing away from them though, they could cook some good ribs.

Brazil was fun. It really is a massive place. To give you an idea of how big Brazil is, they have a soccer club with 35,000,000 fans in Brazil: one and a half times more people call themselves a fan of Corinthians Football Club in Brazil than people call Australia home. It was also expensive: we spent more per day in Brazil than we did in New York City, mostly thanks to expensive buses and gorging on food in Sao Paulo. But I’m not going to bitch about the cost, because it was worth every penny, and we’re definitely coming back in the future. After-all, we’ve only just put the tiniest scratch into the surface of one of the biggest countries in the world.

Northern Argentina: Shake Hands with Beef

elis82 — Thu, 3 Nov 2011 01:12:00 GMT

Coming from the intensity of Potosi in particular, and 3-odd months in Peru and Bolivia, Argentina seemed a bit of an oasis. The roads weren’t terrible, you could (safely) drink the water, butchers decided to spring that bit of extra cash on refrigeration and for the first time in a long time, we weren’t 3000+ metres above sea level: basically, it was suddenly all so easy. Our first stop in our short trip through northern Argentina was in the city of Salta.

Salta is smack-bang in the middle of Gaucho territory. Gaucho’s are the Argentine equivalents of cowboys. So it was, that we decided (after a couple of days of relaxing, eating empanadas and drinking beer and cheap Argentinian wine) that we would try out horse riding. We’d been recommended Sayta Ranch by some other travellers, so we got in contact with them and arranged a half-day trip.

Now, I’m not really a horse person. I don’t really trust these walking glue-pots, and find a couple of hours in the saddle anything but a comfortable experience. But the thought of guiding (using the term loosely) a few hundred kilo’s (is that what a horse weighs?) of horse flesh across rivers, fields and valleys, under the watchful eyes of someone who knows what they are doing: that sounded too good to pass up. We arrived at the ranch mid-morning, had some breakfast and met our fellow apprentice gauchos, before being assigned our horses. I felt mine looked friendly enough – no psycho eyes, he didn’t try and bite me, so all good. I hopped on and stayed on: maybe this wouldn’t be so tough after all.

The trail took us through some great scenery: we passed a bit of farmland, before veering off into a creek bed, all the time pinching mulberries from the trees aside the pathway. Over time, I felt more comfortable in the saddle, and even decided to try my hand at trotting. Bron (who’s a little more experienced with horses) explained you needed to rise once for every two steps, which made trotting a lot more enjoyable, and by the end we were trotting as much as walking. After a wee bit, we stopped, and led by the guides, we got to try galloping! Needless to say, I was shitting myself, but trying not to show it. I was in the third pair to go: I held on tight, don’t think I breathed for the whole stretch, but when we stopped, I was still attached to the horse, and I had a massive rush of excitement. We then had our second gallop: Bron’s technique was good enough that she was allowed to gallop on her own, but I still needed the horsey training wheels of the guide keeping one hand on my reins. I was ok with this. The second time was much more comfortable: at no point did I feel imminent death approaching.

During the 3 hours riding, I felt I’d been transformed. I get why people enjoy riding now. I really think it’s something that, given the opportunity to practise and learn, I could get into. That’s not a particularly likely scenario, but still, maybe we’ll get some more chances further on in South America. The best bit was still to come. After the ride, we were treated to a massive asado (Argentinian barbeque), with loads of salads, half a dozen types of beautifully cooked meats and all the wine we could drink, while we sat around and chatted about travel, life and politics in a food coma.

Later that afternoon, we had a night bus to Puerto Iguazu, stopping at San Ignacio Mini: some old Jesuit ruins. The ruins were interesting, and it was refreshing to see some European history where the settlers didn’t come across like assholes. Basically, the Jesuits tried to instil Christianity onto the natives, whilst also respecting their traditional beliefs, and cultivating a culture of art and music. They fought the other Europeans to try and prevent the enslavement of the native people. Not surprisingly, the powers that be ended up removing the Jesuits, and sending them back to Europe. Oh well. The ruins were nice - different from everything we'd seen so far.

Our last stop in our foray into northern Argentina was Puerto Iguazu, the town servicing Iguazu Falls. As well as seeing the falls, we had to arrange a Brazilian visa: not a difficult thing to arrange, but due to a combination of our arrival late in the week and stupid opening hours for the receipt of visa applications, our intended 2 day stay turned into a 6 day stay.

The Iguazu Falls are truly amazing. From the Argentinian side, you see the falls piecemeal, starting with some of the smaller isolated falls, and ultimately coming around to a view point where you can see the falls stretching out in front of you for hundreds of metres. The waterfalls are around 2.7 kilometres wide and an average flow rate of 1750 kL/sec. When we were there, they were particularly high water conditions (flow rates maybe 3 or 4 times average): amazing! Standing in the walkways, you get drenched with mist, both Bron and I couldn’t stop giggling like school children. The final point is the Devil’s Throat – almost like a sinkhole in the middle of the falls, with water thundering down on three sides around you. The site was so amazing, we visited it twice.

As well as the waterfalls, the national park is full of animals. Whilst walking along the paths, we saw coatis (one of whom stole a packet of pretzels out of Bron's hand), toucans, vultures, eagles, thousands of butterflies, monitor lizards and all sorts of other birds and reptiles. Monkeys and caiman live in the park, although we couldn’t spot either. The songs of birds mingles with the roar of the falls to create an atmosphere that makes it easy to forget the thousands of tourists at the site. The walkways within the park are beautifully thought out – this really is a special place, and one of the best sites we’ve visited on our trip.

Photos: Brazil

elis82 — Thu, 3 Nov 2011 00:03:00 GMT

Our time in Sao Paulo and Rio

Bolivia, Potosi: And You Think Your Job Sucks

elis82 — Thu, 27 Oct 2011 09:43:00 GMT

After a 2 night monster bus trip from Huaraz, Peru to La Paz in Bolivia, we stopped for a day of rest to send some packages, eat ice cream and drink beer. From there, we were back onto another night bus en route to Potosi. Potosi is historically one of the most important cities in Post-Colombian South America. It is one of the world’s highest cities, and was established by the Spanish in 1546, to access the incredible mineral wealth of the adjacent Cerro Rico (rich mountain). Cerro Rico was the main source of silver that funded Spain’s empire, and Potosi quickly grew to be one of the biggest and richest cities in the world, with a mint, mines and streets paved in silver. The symbol of the Potosi mint is even thought to be a possible origin of the $ symbol.

The mining came at a cost: a huge amount of slave labour was used in the mine, and an estimated 8 – 12 million deaths occurred as a result of mining activities at Potosi, from a mixture of exposure, cave ins, silicosis and mercury and arsenic poisoning. Mining continues today, although the mining is run by co-operatives. More on this later.

Our first taste of Potosi’s history was at the old mint, now a museum. The museum minted coins which were then transported back to Spain to fund their entire empire. A lot of the old infrastructure is still in place, and it was really cool to see the similarities and differences in the equipment as it changed from mule powered, to steam and finally to electric. The museum also had one of the best rock collections we’ve ever seen. Bron was right in her element, but even I was enthralled by the diversity and quality of the collection, made from all parts of the world.

The next day, we hit the main event: the Potosi mine tour. Originally, we’d been unsure whether this was something that we actually wanted to do. Were we likely to be killed or exposed to dangerous chemicals? Was this an ethical thing to do? Were we empowering miners to do significant harm to themselves (anecdotally, the average life expectancy of mine workers is around 40, versus 66 for Bolivia)? Ultimately, we decided it was probably safe enough for a few hours, and that given both Bron and I work a lot in the mining industry at home, seeing how bad this industry could be would be valuable life experience.

First stop was the miners market, to buy gifts for the miners we were going to visit. There was Bron, an Englishman called Malcolm and myself on the tour, and we each bought 2 big bottles of juice and a big bag of coca leaves. Additionally, we picked up a couple of 500mL bottles of 96% drinking alcohol and the biggie: for $2, you could buy a stick of dynamite, a detonator cap, ammonium nitrate and fuse wire. Between us, we bought 2 kits. As a funny aside, the President was visiting Potosi later that day, and the miners were all heading down and throwing bits of dynamite in his direction as fairly loud fireworks. From the market, we headed to check out one the several refineries outside (and in a few cases inside) the town. Suffice to say, these probably wouldn’t get environmental approval to be constructed in Australia.

From here, we headed to the mountain, and met a couple of teams of miners. The miners ranged in age from 15 to maybe 50 (although you age pretty quick in there, so that’s a very rough guess). Before the miners head in each day, they drink some of the horrifically strong drinking alcohol, mixed with juice or water, and chew coca leaves, while having the only meal they will eat on their shift of up to 24 hours. Once in the mine, the presence of arsenic means that food is a no-no. We got chatting with the miners, and one of the guys invited us to a cock fight at his place the next day. We thanked him for the offer, but suggested we probably wouldn’t be able to make it. After leaving a few gifts of coca leaves and gloves, we headed on into hell.

And hell it was. Incredibly cramped, I’d have been lucky to get away without concussion if I hadn’t been wearing my helmet. For a good part of the mine, I was bent over double, listening for the shout that informed us that some guys were coming pushing a trolley of ore. That’s two guys, plus one guy steering, pushing a cart that weighs 250kg empty, plus maybe 750kg of ore. Pushing it a few hundred metres, on rickety old tracks. Below a roof often less than 4 feet high. Moving a minimum of 20 tonnes of ore per day. With virtually no water. The two gifts most valued are juice and coca leaves (which supresses fatigue, hunger and thirst). Malcolm and I tried pushing a full cart for maybe half a run. It’s harder than it sounds. These guys have jobs that are harder than all other things.

To get to the current workings areas for this team, we had to scramble up a steep scree gap in the rock, with a 3 metre drop off under the beams we were using for leverage. These guys were pulling pneumatic drills, dynamite and construction materials up, and then dumping ore back down. With the exception of the pneumatic drill and dynamite (and in some places, electric winches to lift up ore: if no electricity is available at that point, the ore’s moved up by the good old fashioned arm-strong method) everything is done by hand. Shovelling the ore into wheel barrows, dumping, re-shovelling the ore into carts, sorting, moving the material, it’s all done by hand. In cramped, dusty conditions. Shitty work my friends. Shitty work indeed.

After heading around the mines for a couple of hours, leaving gifts for our hard-working miners, our guide detonated some dynamite for us. He’d previously worked as a blaster in the mines to pay his way through university (and still moonlights as a shot-firer pretty regularly), so I guess he was as qualified as anyone gets down here, which is to say that someone showed him how to do it, and he did it and survived. The fuse had a burn time of about a minute. We didn’t know how loud it would be, or exactly when it would go off, and it was pretty nerve-racking waiting. When it finally went off, it was loud. And that was only 1 stick: for a normal blasting, 8 is typical.

Our last site was a shrine to Tio: the devil-like god of the under-ground, the Quechua’s male counterpart to Pacha Mamma (mother earth). Tio sat resplendent on his throne; red skin, big horns and his larger than life member standing proudly up – miners (and, ahem, some tourists) touch Tio’s penis to bring sexual power and fertility. Tio was introduced by the slaves hundreds of years ago to protect them from the Spanish, and he still plays an important part in the day to day religion of the miners, protecting or killing them, rewarding them with high quality ore, or punishing them with low yields.

This tour certainly wasn’t a nice experience, but it was an amazing one. For all of the miners’ works, they earn the equivalent of about $400 per month. So for sacrificing around 25 years of their life, they earn the equivalent of a high school dropout flipping burgers in McDonalds in Australia. This is a good (not amazing) income in Bolivia, but still. It makes me feel happy to be going back to a consulting job, where the only safety concerns I have are trying to prepare safety plans detailed enough to satisfy BHP. Where my career span is about the same as the lifetimes of those working in Potosi. Where a bad day is one where I realise a job might go over budget or I can’t get a model to work. If you’re in a position to read this, thank your lucky stars.

Photos: Argentina: The North

elis82 — Thu, 27 Oct 2011 07:38:00 GMT

Cowboys, Jesuits and Waterfalls. And meat.

Photos: Back to Bolivia: Potosi

elis82 — Thu, 27 Oct 2011 07:11:00 GMT

Our flying return trip through Bolivia, stopping at the world's deadliest mine, Potosi.

Peru, Huaraz – Touching an Area Near Something Sort of Voidish?

elis82 — Fri, 21 Oct 2011 10:09:00 GMT

After our horror afternoon and night in Lima, we got the first bus possible the next morning to head to Huaraz, where we were looking at undertaking a couple of hikes within the Andes. We arrived late in the evening and made our way to a comfortable guesthouse to rest and recuperate. The first morning, we had a big sleep in and skyped family and some friends to let them know what happened and assure them that we were ok, although it took a couple of days of downtime to start to feel even close to 100%. The guesthouse was really nice though: comfy beds, a rooftop dining and lounge area with great views of the surrounding mountain ranges, a tasty breakfast, a big fireplace and friendly staff.

The first trek that we undertook was the popular Santa Cruz trek in the Cordillera Blanca. Probably the most popular trek in the area, it is normally done in 4 days with donkeys and guides, but to save money we were heading out on our own, and we were a bit short on time trying to squeeze it in with the Cordillera Huayhuash circuit, so were aiming to complete the trek in 3 days. The hike passes through snow-capped mountains and glaciers, and has a single pass at 4,750m.

We started the hike in the town of Vaqueria; by the time the bus arrived it was 12pm. On the way up we’d passed through some bad weather, so we were relieved to see that the weather had cleared nicely. We passed pigs, goats, chickens and a guinea pig farm through the friendly town, a nice start to the trek. During the afternoon, we passed our first glaciers for the hike, and at our campsite we were able to see watch the sunset behind a glacier; it would have been lovely except for the millions of sandflies trying the steal all our blood. To escape, we hid in the tent and played cards until it was dark enough for those guys to head to bed.

Day 2 was the tough one, having to walk the best part of two days distance and climb up the pass. We got up at 5am to try and get moving before the midges woke up. The first couple of hours was pretty unremarkable; although the walk is within a National Park, a lot of the land through here is farm land, with lots of cattle, donkeys and sheep. As the morning passed though, the sides of the valley rose up and we were treated to views of glaciers and snow-capped peaks poking through the persistent cloud layer. The climb up the pass was hard work, but the trail rewarded us for our effort: on the other side, the weather was pretty clear, and there were gorgeous glaciers and glacier lakes on either side of the valley. As the cherry on top, just after we came over the pass, a big Andean condor flew overhead!

It was the evening campsite that was the real reward though. Coming down through the valley, we decided to camp at the beginning of a series of a couple of trout-filled lakes, located between the normal day 2 and 3 campsites. As we approached the lakes, on each side of the steep valley, there were tall waterfalls generated from the glacial mountains above. The lake was a gorgeous green colour, and reflected the sun that was just beginning to set behind it. A group (band? pack? flock? family?) of horses were running around on grassland, and some curious donkeys came up to watch us set up our tent. It was a gorgeous sunset, and the sunrise/moonset were even better! Down the valley from behind us, was a lovely view of the pass and the glaciers out that way. It’s hard to imagine a more magical campsite, I could have spent a couple of days there (especially with a fishing rod…). Incredible.

The last morning was about 1200 metres of descent, along the valley. Some nice lakes, rapids and waterfalls lined the way, although after two long days walking, we were starting to feel the pinch a little.

After the first hike, we had a rest day in Huaraz, which consisted mostly of arranging logistics and eating food. The next hike consisted of a much more optimistic 9 day circuit of the Cordillera Huayhuash. The circuit consists of 9 passes between 4500 metres and 5000 metres, and the majority of the hike is above 3800 metres. Huayhuash is home to the second highest mountain in the America’s, Nevada Yerupaja. It also houses Siula Grande, which was the setting for ‘Touching the Void’. Going in to the hike, we were a little nervous. Probably only 20% of hikers do this trek without a guide, and most of those still use donkeys to carry their supplies. However, we’d done quite a few warm-up hikes, were as adjusted to the conditions as we were going to be, and I felt confident that we could do it.

The next morning, we got a bus to Chiquian, where we were to get a second bus to Llamac, the trailhead. Only problem was, the town had declared a general strike for the day, which included blocking the roads. We sat in the park playing some cards while waiting to see if it would clear up later, before heading to the Huayhuash Hotel, run by the incredible Fredy, one of the friendliest hotel managers you’re ever likely to meet. He gave us a load of advice regarding the trek and transport, invited us to lunch with his family (which included me eating roast guinea pig head, starting accidentally with the eyeball, but otherwise tasty enough) and helping us forget our frustration at the mornings delay.

The next morning, we were off in earnest. The first day was a slog along a mining road, carrying 9 days of food and all our other belongings for the next week and a bit on our backs. We made the mistake of patting a local’s dog (we christened him Old Greg); he then, despite all attempts to get him to return home, followed us doggedly for the rest of the day, about 12kms from where we met him. When we finally hitched a ride with a local mine truck, we thought we’d managed to shake him. We set up our tent, had our dinner, and then to our shock, Old Greg sauntered up to the tent. Fortunately our continued goading managed to get him to connect to an English couple who were doing the trek guided by a local and a team of 8 donkeys. Dog-thieving guilt averted. A couple of condors and a nice sunset over the mountains were our entertainment for the evening.

The next day, we began climbing up our first of 2 passes that day and 9 for the entire circuit. The start marred by passing a horse that had died 2 days previously on the way up to the pass after the trail collapsed beneath it. Some of the companies save money by overloading donkeys and horses: whether or not that killed this one I couldn’t say; but still not a nice sight. The pass wasn’t too difficult, although we had to climb up about 700m to 4,700m, our legs felt fresh and the trail was a nice grade. We took an alternative route from the trail so we could get in closer to the mountains. The track became poorly defined and hard going, but we did pick up some nice views of the glaciers. As a result of taking the alternative trek however, we missed a checkpoint area, where locals make you pay to pass through the trail. This only came to our attention when we started the climb to the second pass, and we heard some shouting. Looking back, we saw a local guy chasing us, carrying a (scarily homemade-looking) shotgun. Suffice to say, we paid the toll. After finishing the second pass, we had an incredible view, watching the sunset lighting up a series of five or six 6000+ metre mountains, while we rushed to reach the campsite before it got too dark. When we finally made camp, we were setup by the river, and went to sleep to the sound of glaciers cracking in the distance, mixed with local dogs fighting.

Day 3 took us through the most spectacular scenery of the trip. We walked past a series of glacial lakes, all different colours, as four separate glaciers were cracking and avalanching. We spent a couple of hours enjoying the view, before commencing our hardest pass of the trip, not the highest but a 1000m climb at about a 1 to 1 grade. As we approached the pass, it started to hail, and then snow. By the time we reached the pass, it was snowing pretty heavily, and we had to navigate by compass as visibility dropped and the trail was concealed.

The fourth day was pretty unremarkable terrain, we passed one lake and then reached the hot-springs. It was a Sunday and the guys running the place were having a family barbeque at the site. We were just getting ready to boil some water to make soup for the fourth time in five days when they asked us if we would like to join them. Roast lamb, sweet potato and potato roasted in coals? Yeah, I think we’ll join you. We had a great time, chatting with the locals about the area and farming – it was the best lamb we’ve had since we left Australia (possible exception Kypriaki’s at Whistler?). Once we’d finished being force-fed lamb and potatoes, we joined the local guys in the pool, playing a drinking game that involved passing around a 1 litre bottle of beer, taking a swig and passing on to the next guy – if you finished the bottle, you had to buy the next one. After a couple of buys, I realised the rules of the game and was able to avoid having to buy more than my fair share (to be fair, I think the locals were happy enough with that arrangement too). It turned out to be a really fun day, and after we posed for photos with and for everyone, we headed back to the tent to enjoy another nice sunset and some pasta with tuna.

The next day we had our highest pass – and Bron’s first time hiking to 5000m. The view was good for the entire climb, but incredible at the pass. Glaciers so close you felt you could touch them balanced precariously over glacier lakes and bizarrely shaped rocks, twisted from the forces of glaciers long since gone. To the distance were other lines of mountains, standing proud in the clear blue sky. We were on a high after the climb (possible as a result of the thin air?) and as we scrambled down to our campsite we started to invent what might be the world’s highest altitude crimp (different to a crump, or a cramp, and who would have thought – two Mighty Boosh references in one entry!). Record to be verified. The rest of the day was a really nice and relaxing walk down a valley, with our nicest campsite of the trek, and another great sunset.

We had a couple of grinding days hiking, with long steep climbs followed by long steep descents. Our last night was spent at another trout-filled glacial lake (the porter from a guided group that had a rest day pulled out over 50 that day, showing there sure were a lot of trout there, if not for long), a 6km long glacier and steep sided valley. The only downside was an aggressive dog that charged at Bronwyn, causing her to fall when she turned to face it. There were a few angry dogs along the trek, something that did impact upon the enjoyment of the hike.

The Huayhuash Circuit is an incredible hike – some of the most amazing scenery you could hope to see. It certainly wasn’t easy (Bron rates it as the hardest thing she’s ever done, and she’s a trooper!), and if doing this trek I’d recommend either doing the work at altitude beforehand or going with a guide and letting a donkey do all the work for you. But the sense of reward from completing it, on our own, and the ability to see unique landscapes without seeing another hiker between days 2 and 7 of the trek, is pretty damn special.

We got back from the trek the day before my birthday. To celebrate (and recuperate) we headed to the Way Inn Lodge, about 30 minutes outside of Hauraz. After a couple of weeks pretty much solid hiking, this was perfect. Beautiful grounds, a room with a giant bath and fireplace, incredible food, trout ponds with massive trout, coca liqueur and a super massage. Huaraz was great.

The Good, Bad and Ugly of Peru in Parts: Part 1 – Arequipa, Cusco and a Day of Hell in Lima

elis82 — Fri, 7 Oct 2011 13:04:00 GMT

We ended up spending considerably longer in Peru than we’d intended, with hiking taking up the vast majority of the time. To try and avoid an overly cluttered entry, I’ve split Peru into two. This blog will tackle Arequipa, Cusco and Lima, and all of our hiking around Huaraz will be covered in the second.

Arequipa

Our first stop in Peru, Arequipa is famous for being the access point to two of the world’s deepest canyons with great Andean condor spotting; having the lovely Volcan Misti and Chachani Mountain as a backdrop and for a gorgeous centre square. After Bolivia, we were pretty stuffed when we arrived at Arequipa.

Chachani

First major action around Arequipa was a hike up Chachani Mountain. Bron was still recovering from a bad case of food poisoning from Bolivia, so I was on my own for this one. With a summit of 6,095m, this was my first attempt at hiking to over 6,000m, so it promised to be a different sort of challenge – hopefully my acclimatisation in Bolivia would help…

After base camping at 5,200m, our group of 5 gringos played some cards after our guides headed to bed just before sunrise. By the time we went to bed, it was bloody cold, and the air was so dry that whenever I touched the tent during the night the static charge was so strong I could see blue sparks on the tent wall! Welcome to altitude, Elis. At 2am, we got up. I was feeling pretty nauseous, and managed one bite of my slightly stale cheese sandwich before accepting food wasn’t an option. Within about half an hour, we were off.

Chachani is supposed to be a relatively easy climb for a 6000m mountain. And it’s fair to say to hike itself isn’t technically difficult, with only a couple of steeper sections and no real crevices to speak of. But I say without exaggeration – this was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Somehow, I managed to keep getting one foot in front of the next, and despite a couple of close calls, keep last night’s soup down, with lightning flashes in the distance and a nice sunrise over the surrounding ranges a good distraction. After a few hours, we all reached the summit, about an hour ahead of schedule to our surprise! Incredibly rewarding, and decent views to pay off for our efforts.

The Good: Pretty simple climb; only 2 days to complete; Fun descent running/skiing down the scree

The Bad: Banging your head on the 4WD roof if you’re in the back

The Ugly: Altitude nausea

Colca Canyon

Bron and I headed to Colca Canyon around 2am the morning after I got back from Chachani (possibly risky call, but it worked out ok). Colca Canyon is one of the deepest canyons in the world; about twice as deep as the Grand Canyon, and has been inhabited since pre-Inca times. Our first stop was for a below-par and under-catered breakfast, although it was exciting to see our first cacti-topped earth-bricked walls there – a common style in Peru, and infinitely nicer than using razor wire or the more common smashed glass to secure a wall.

After a nice drive along the canyon, we stopped at the Cruz del Condor, one of the best places in the world to spot Andean condors, a member of the vulture family, and with a wingspan of over 3m, the biggest wingspan of all land birds. We got lucky, and spotted a couple of condors, with a flyby directly over our heads! Very cool. At Cruz del Condor, it’s 1200m from the edge of the valley to the river at the base.

Not surprisingly, the first days hiking involved a lot of descent. Once we got to the bottom, we grabbed some lunch at our guides family’s restaurant, before continuing on for a couple of hours to ‘el Paradiso’, a bunch of touristy complexes, but nice, where we indulged in our reward Snickers. We played some cards with a cool Spanish couple David and Laura, before some dinner and an early night. The next morning was the 1,100m climb back to the top of the canyon. We resisted the temptation to take a mule up the top. Both Bron and I managed to climb up the top without a break, which we were happy with, and got to enjoy some more nice views over the canyon.

Once we’d breakfasted, we headed along to the hotsprings for a gorgeous soak, then had lunch at a delicious Peruvian buffet, which included some delicious Cuy Picante – pieces of guinea pig cooked in a nice curry sauce. The trip back included some stops at some cool viewing places for the canyons, and for lots of llamas, alpacas and vicuñas, before getting back to Arequipa.

The Good: Condors; Incredible views; Nice weather; Pre-Incan terraces being farmed to this day

The Bad: Mule teams trying to knock you off the mountain; Descending on bad knees; Cold ‘hot’-springs at El Paradiso

The Ugly: Souvenir touts at Cruz del Condor; Littering locals (and tourists…)

Cusco

Cusco City

From Arequipa, we made our way by nightbus to Cusco. Peru has incredible buses, cheap and excellent quality, and it makes those unavoidable long distance trips a much more pleasant experience, and we were feeling pretty rested up when we arrived at Cusco just after sunrise. We checked into a hostel, found an excellent place for breakfast (if visiting Cusco, breakfast at Jack’s Cafe is a must!).

Walking through the streets, we got mobbed by the masses of touts trying to flog massages, restaurant menus and cocaine. After a couple of streets, it became hard to even make the effort of saying ‘No gracias’ every 5 seconds or so. We sorted out our stuff for the Inca Trail and the rest of the time in Cusco was spent bouncing between cafes and checking out local handicrafts.

Cusco could be an excellent destination in its own right, and is very popular with hordes of backpackers, hippies and wealthier travellers. As the old Incan capital, there are some excellent old buildings, which have been nicely incorporated into modern day Cusco. The people are friendly. There is a lot of Incan history to explore in the region. But it’s so damn touristy, and has been for too long. The streets are basically a mixture of gringos and vendors trying to take their money. There are shabby operators everywhere, and everything is very expensive. One interesting tidbit was that the world’s highest Irish-owned Irish Pub is there – only thing is, it doesn’t stock Guinness. ¿Como?

The Good: Nice food (honourable mentions to Jacks and Los Perros for their incredible fresh spring rolls); Good shops to stock up for hiking (gear and food); History

The Bad: Relentless touts; Expensive; Shoddy tour operators

The Ugly: Lots of steep streets at altitude for tourists straight off the plane

The Inca Trail and Machu Picchu

The Inca Trail and Machu Picchu was one of the top few highlights we were looking forward to coming to South America. We arranged to travel with United Mice, a Cusqueñan company, highly recommended by our friends Matt and Alicia who used them a few years ago. There were a few driving reasons: they were locally owned (apparently foreign companies operating in Peru are tax exempt, for reasons I am unclear on); they travel further on the first day meaning you miss the vast bulk of the crowds; and they are about half the price of the big international companies.

I am pleased to say that the Inca Trail, Machu Picchu and United Mice all lived up to our expectations. The food was exceptional, there were only four of us (me, Bron and our new Belgian friends Frank and Lynn) in our group meaning we could make excellent time and had a lot more freedom and time to relax than the big groups, our guide was charismatic and well informed, an excellent story-teller – thanks Jaime! Our porters (like all the porters on the track) were troopers. So company wise, I couldn’t recommend United Mice enough (although online credit card payment would have made booking whilst on the road MUCH easier…).

The Inca Trail took us through many different terrain types, including cloud forest, Andean tundra and jungle. There are incredible views throughout, with the snow-capped mountains and Rio Cusichca at the start, several Incan ruins (including our favourite Wiñay Wayna – a gorgeously situated ruin in amongst terraces looking down a huge valley). Jaime explained that in establishing a new settlement, the Quechua (what are normally called the Incas, only the Inca was specifically the king of the Quechua, so it’d be like calling the English, for example, The Regent or The Queen – or at least so I’m told) the aesthetics of the location were as important as its agricultural potential or other considerations.

Machu Picchu was incredible. Due to the small size of our group, we were able to overtake all the big groups despite a slightly later start on the last morning, and were one of the first at the Sun Gate – just as well, because a couple of minutes after arriving at the top, the clouds moved in for a bit. Most of the day we had excellent weather; lots of sun. The Machu Picchu ruins were really incredible, amazing stonework and some incredible design with regards to hydrology and sunlight. The llamas wondering around the place to eat the grass was a nice touch. The only drawback is the number of tourists, although by about 1:30 or 2pm, most of those had headed out. Definitely a must do in South America, it lived up to the hype.

The Good: Amazing views on the trail and at Machu Picchu; No touts; Incredible food; Excellent guides; Great ruins

The Bad: Loads of tourists, especially at the ruins; Very expensive food at Machu Picchu; Aguas Calientes

The Ugly: Deterioration of the track and ruins from tourists; Porters being overloaded by some operators, and forced to move too fast with heavy loads

Lima

We’d only planned an 8 hour stopover in Lima between Cusco and Huaraz. We had to send some packages home, get some proper food after a 20 hour bus trip and wait for our bus out – you’d be hard pressed to find a Peruvian, even from Lima, who’d recommend a visit. The package sending bit went off without a hitch (assuming the package arrives – time will tell there, but we’re confident). It was getting fed we hit a snag.

Wondering around the Plaza de Armas (normally a city centre is pretty decent for tourists, but apparently not in Lima) we found a place just off the street that did reasonably priced set menus. We went in and sat down and a guy came up and started chatting to us, all very friendly. A little bit later, his friend came up and joined us as well. They insisted we tried the local pisco sours, which they insisted were different to the Chilean variety (the origin of the Pisco Sour is almost a matter for fist fights between the two countries). They ordered some from the waiter and four huge jugs of pisco sour arrived at the table. We finally managed to order some food, but after a bit we realised we weren’t feeling quite right. All of a sudden, six people from the restaurant came up to the table and presented us with a bill for 420 soles (about $140). We had our day packs with all our valuables with us, and weren’t really in any state to try and resist – they’d spiked our drinks! We paid and got straight out of there, and headed to a coffee shop to try and recover.

Within minutes of getting to the café, I’d passed out on the toilet floor. Fortunately, some locals had seen something was wrong, and came up and helped Bron, looking after our gear whilst they went to identify the restaurant (which didn’t turn out to have a name, although a neighbouring shop described it as a dangerous place, and gave the girl their name), and then get the police. The police came to the café and took us to the hospital, where I was put onto a drip and given something else, and after about 6 hours was considered well enough to be discharged, from where we spent 2 hours in a taxi looking for a hotel that had a vacancy until 2.30am. We’d missed our bus, but fortunately in the morning, we were both feeling well enough (although still very weak) to travel. Lima, go to hell.

The Good: Free medical treatment for foreigners, although you have to buy your own drugs; Helpful locals for drugged tourists; Patient taxi drivers; the soccer stadium looks quite nice

The Bad: No central bus station, making comparing options difficult; Spending a night there

The Ugly: Dangerous; Getting drugged and robbed by restaurateurs

Photos: Peru - Huaraz and the Cordillera Huayhuash

elis82 — Thu, 6 Oct 2011 09:20:00 GMT

A big 9 days in 8 trek without guides or donkeys through the incredible Cordillera Huayhuash, one of the most beautiful hikes in the world

Photos: Peru - Huaraz and the Cordillera Blanca

elis82 — Thu, 6 Oct 2011 09:00:00 GMT

Our hike through the Santa Cruz trek in the Cordillera Blanca

Photos: Peru - Cusco, the Inca Trail and Machu Picchu

elis82 — Thu, 6 Oct 2011 08:27:00 GMT

One of the world's most famous hikes - it lives up to its rep!

Photos: Peru - Arequipa, Chachani and Colca Canyon

elis82 — Thu, 6 Oct 2011 08:11:00 GMT

Floating around fun Arequipa, climbing my first 6000m mountain and dropping into one of the world's deepest canyons