La Paz photos

Sucre (photos)

'At the Copa, Copacabana....'

Yeah well not the same one, but whatever, I had that song stuck in my head pretty much the whole time I was there! And I was glad to actually get there really because my original bus (yep another bus story...) I´d booked crashed in the morning and so didn´t pick me up, and then apparently there were road blocks that meant no other buses were leaving until the afternoon. The one I did eventually take still didn´t go the usual route, and instead took us on several dusty backroads through many sleepy and traditional farming communities (it still amazes me that the women are out ploughing paddocks dressed in long skirts and sandals with their donkeys ).

The main attraction in Copacabana, other than the highest-navigable-lake-in-the-world thing, is the Isla De Sol, where apparently the Inca creation legend began. So one loooooong and cold (well it might not´ve been that long really...) ferry ride later I arrived at the island to see some ruins and take a 3 hour-ish walk from North to South to take it in the lovely views. Apart from feeling a little exploited by the numerous entry fees (even if they are pittance each) and two cheeky little girls wanting payment for photos, the actual walk was beautiful in the streaming sun and it was great to see some water again having been stuck in deserts for a while. The size of the lake made you feel like you could´ve been at the sea, it was very difficult to see the mountains on the other side in the morning, until the clouds lifted in the afternoon and the snow-capped peaks emerged. At one point though, I totally forgot where I was as the path took me through a grove of Eucalypts. Apparently old zoological habits die hard and I shook my head as I realised I´d been gazing into the treetops briefly in search of koalas!!!

My favourite thing in Copacabana though was stumbling across the local afternoon tea hangout. A cafe called ¨2 de Febrero¨ (all the cafes, streets etc have the same names pretty much: important historical dates, famous leaders or cities around the country), which was a big room lined around the edges with little stalls where women stood behind stacks of mugs stirring big pots of boiling milk, water and api, a sweet purple drink made with corn, cinnamon, cloves, lemon and sugar. The place was packed and I had to circle several times before finding an empty table to order a cafe con leche to warm up (it gets pretty freezing at night at these heights despite the warm sunny days!). As I was sitting there I was joined by two other families and found myself squeezed at the end of the table unable to get out until they too had finished their drinks and Bolivia style doughnuts smothered in caramel sauce (surprisingly good!). As I was working out my Spanish to ask the two teenage girls what exactly the api they were drinking is made of, I heard through the giggles that they were obviously working out their English to talk to me. So when I caught them say ¨where are you from?¨I replied entiendo (I understand) with a smile. And so with a bit of Spanglish I had a nice little chat with the girls before going on my way to dinner with a lovely couple from Manchester who I´d met on the boat.

And that, sadly, was my last stop in Bolivia. Next day I was off to Peru to see the other side of Titicaca and start the journey to Inca central - Cuzco.

La la lovely La Paz

I was a bit wary about going to La Paz, despite the white flag the name of this city appeared to be waving at me. It seemed that I was setting myself up for an extra concentrated shot of all the usual Bolivian concerns-food, altitude, theft and dodgy taxi drivers. But it is Bolivia´s capital, and it is a necassary stop-over on the way to Peru, and hence I knew that I couldn´t leave Bolivia without giving it a shot, so one more overnight bus ride later I found myself emerging from my cosy sleeping bag at dawn to a see thousands of lights twinkling up the mountains around me. It was one of those entrancing ´oh it´s so pretty´ moments that come when you´re still half dazed from the travelling and trying to uncramp your neck to look at a new place for the first time.

Arriving before 7am to a ´party hostel´ is also not a great way to allow yourself to freshen up after a long journey, and I quickly realised that trying to unpack my stuff in a 6 bed dorm full of hangovers with their stuff sprawled everywhere probably wouldn´t go down too well. So riding the enthusiasm of arriving in a new place I went for an early morning stroll, and I think that that was what sold La Paz to me. Despite all reputations, the sight of the early morning sun hitting the terracotta houses stretched up and around the surrounding mountains really was gorgeous, not to mention the view of the imposing snow capped peak of Illimani mountain watching over the city.

The city itself didn´t need a lot of days to take in. The biggest attraction here is the touristy area known as ¨the witches market¨, where you can by any number of souvenirs (authentic or otherwise) or for something a little more unusual perhaps a llama foetus may take your fancy. Half the fun was walking around trying not to get runover by crazed motorists on multilane roadways and maintaining the energy to puff your way up the steep streets that rise either side of the central valley. A quick lesson in La Paz is don´t hesitate to blame anything and everything on the altitude. Feeling unfit? Couldn´t be the weeks of sitting in buses, must be the altitude. Feeling tired? Not the 3 hours sleep from staying up too late, must be the altitude. A little hungover? Didn´t have that much to drink, must be the altitude. And so it goes....

Also entertaining are the items for sale in some of the street stalls on the main drags, enough to make you wonder how on earth they make any money and how many people make such purchases walking to work in the morning. Some more bizarre examples included the stall of only safety pins, the seemingly 100 year old lady selling screwdrivers, and the man with a whole stand of padlocks, any and every size you could think of. But one great thing I did find for sale in La Paz was a proper, frothy coffee. Oh how I miss my lattes. The Italians might have brought pasta, pizza and icecream to Latin America, but they must have forgotten to teach them about coffee!

So from La Paz I moved onto Copacabana, or perhaps more recognisable as Lake Titicaca (supposedly the world´s highest navigable lake), of which I will tell you about next time. At present I am in Cuzco about to trek up to Maccu Pichu (and yes I will look up how to actually spell that at some point!). Back again soon amigos, hope you´re all well!

Sweet as Sucre

After Salta and the Salares it was time to sweeten things up a bit and hit Bolivia´s ex-capital city Sucre. Not in fact named after another favourite Bolivian white powder, the city´s name actually honours the revolutionary leader Antonio José de Sucre, and was Bolivia´s capital until the seat of government was moved to La Paz in 1898. Although it doesn´t have many major ¨attractions¨ as such, the city itelf has a lovely setting and its Spanish style white-washed colonial buildings make it an attractive place to wander about and relax.

Going there also gave me the opportunity to pass through Potosi, the highest city in the world and one with a shocking history of human abuse revolving around its greatest asset - silver- and the mines used to extract it. Thousands of slaves were forced to work in brutal conditions underground (many still do), and life expectancy was certainly not long. Even now, many miners don´t live past 40. As I had no intention of subjecting myself to the horrific underground conditions voluntarily, I happily passed through Potosi for the more pleasant surrounds offered by Sucre.

This second bus trip in Bolivia was certainly quite as eventful as the first, and even 12 or so hours bumping along dirt roads and making a frustrating number of inexplicable stops and delays it seems there is always something to keep things interesting, from the practically toothless Señora next to me chewing bubblegum and talking in incomprehensible Spanish, to the everchanging spectacular scenery and the ¨toilet¨stops involving men and women, young and old, exiting the bus to unashamedly relieve themselves on the side of the road in full view of everyone. Needless to say, my 2L bottle of water remained untouched the entire journey.

I couldn´t decide at first what I thought about Sucre. I passed a very nice morning wandering around the colourful (and very educational meat-wise) grocery street market, and had a nice walk around town taking in coffee shops, dulce de leche flavoured icecream and an impromptu street festival with marching bands and dancers in colourful costumes. I was also impressed by a visit to the weaving museum where I learnt just how incredible this craft is and how talented and patient the artists are. I single weaving of about 80 x 50 cm approx can take up to 6 months to complete!

However, what really sold the city to me was a trip up to the mirador (lookout point). The weather was beautiful and sunny and a 30 minute trek up a steep hill to the suburb of Recoleta brought me to a lovely square with spectacular sweeping views across the whole city. Happily, a nice little cafe had decided to exploit the situation and had numerous tables set out with Pacific-island style reed umbrellas and lounge chairs overlooking the city below. In proper holiday style, I must have been up there for a couple of hours admiring the views with fresh juice in hand (they are fabulous here!) and company in the form of an English traveller I´d befriended on the bus on the way. So nice it was that I was nearly tempted into staying an extra day just to go there again!

Anyway, one month down and the trip is flying by. I´ll try and get pics of Sucre up soon, then next on the post-list is my second last stop in Bolivia - the impossible city of La Paz (Lady of Peace).

Chau for now!

The Altiplano, Tupiza to Uyuni

You know that feeling of dread you get before an exam you fear might go horribly wrong? Well that was pretty much how I felt as I signed on to a 4 day jeep tour to the remote altiplano in South West Bolivia: Travelling to freezing altitudes of 5000m into remote desert expanses crammed into a worn looking jeep with six strangers and a Spanish-speaking Bolivian driver with no means of bailing out? This, could go horribly wrong. Yet somehow the prospect of seeing flamingos, llama, endangered vicuñas, multicoloured lagunas, remote villages, geysers, hot springs and of course the world´s biggest salt flats was enough to pull me in, and before I knew it I´d been convinced by an enthusiastic guide who I became known to as ¨Felicidad¨ and five other travellers keen to fill a car and get a discount price to depart the following morning on the tour.

So it was time to test the wonders of modern medicine and despite the assurances from locals that a bit of coca would be enough to cure soroche (altitude sickness), I started on the Diamox and crossed my fingers that none of the worst-case scenarios I kept envisaging would come into play. And I´m happy to report absolutely no dramas at all, unless you count a particularly hairy river crossing involving some ice-breaking, but thankfully no wet feet! Happily I suffered no ill effects from the height and was able to thoroughly enjoy myself the entire tour!

I think there is too much scenery to describe in words, so perhaps it´s better to just browse the (many!) photos. I honestly never knew that mountains could come in so very many shapes and sizes, or that I could be so absolutely freezing cold whilst wearing about a 100 layers of clothing! But, we did have to be thankful that it was ´only´-3C at night, because two weeks prior the minimum had dropped to -20C. Yep -20C! I can barely even imagine how cold that is, knowing how I shivered my way through the nights at -3C. Anyway, here are a few brief highlights from the trip:

*the ever-changing picture-postcard worthy scenery. I honestly could´ve snapped away every minute or so but as it was decided to just sit back and enjoy it through my own eyes rather than a camera lens!
*Rocketing along to Bolivian folkloric music at sunrise.
*Seeing the flamingos at about a 5m distance was zoology heaven. As were numerous sitings of llamas, viscacha and endangered vicuñas.
*The toxic Laguna Verde where no animals can live but which looks spectacular amongst the black volcanic rocks and mountain backdrop.
*Not subjecting myself to the biting cold wind threatening to freeze people solid as they emerged from the hot springs at 4200m. Maybe next time...
*The Salt flats. ´Nuff said. Biggest in the world and one of the most bizarrely amazing things I´ve seen. Not to mention the fun and games taking photos playing around with the perspectives!
*Comparing deserts, Aus vs Bolivia. If you ask me, our deserts are paradise!! Literally zero plant life up here!
*The stars at night, though I wasn´t hard core enough to go out every night, even a short glimpse was enough to appreciate just how many there are. And oh yes, our old friend the Southern Cross shone bright as bright can be!
*A feast every night. Particularly good was trying quinoa in a few different variations, which is grown (only?) in South America at altitude and is becoming a major money earner in exports.
*Staying in a hotel made entirely of salt. Quite bizarre but surprisingly warm, quiet and comfortable!

So that´s it for now, hope you enjoy the pics! I have just arrived in La Paz after a few short days in the other capital, Sucre, which I will hopefully be able to tell you about soon.

Chau chau!

El tren a los nubes photos

Valles Calchaquies (photos)

Bienvenidos a Bolivia

Buenas tardes chicos!

Sorry for my absence over the past few days, but I have been gallavanting around the Bolivian altiplano sin electricity and so have not had a chance to update the blog!

As you can gather I have said goodbye for now to the lovely Argentina, and crossed North into the less certain territory of Bolivia. Thankfully the border crossing was a relatively simple affair consisting of a 1km walk to the Argentinian side, where I enjoyed listening to Los Beatles as the sun rose and my passport was stamped, before crossing a bridge and entering a tiny little office to complete the Bolivian formalities. It was quite amusing being amongst about a dozen other foreigners and as many backpacks trying to squeeze into a 2 by 2 metre space and dance around the holes in the floor to fill out forms and get stamps!

The change between Bolivia and Argentina was instantaneous. The differences are everywhere- you can see it in the people, hear it in the language, and smell it in the air. Bolivians speak softly and slowly, making them seem gentle and maybe even a bit shy. The streets bustle with traders selling brightly coloured alpaca wool scarves, bags, beanies, gloves and the warmest looking socks I've ever seen! Women with long black plaits wearing bowler hats, bulky knee length skirts, tights and sandles )with or without leg warmers) march along carrying cloths on their backs like slings filled with goodness knows how heavy-a load, and men pass by with balls of coca leaves bulging from their cheeks. Peddlars selling fruit, humitas, smoothies and icecream call out their products over the trilling of flute-filled folk music echoing from the shops. Although the border town of Villazon is no picture, and despite the evident poverty, litter in the streets and my hesitation at travelling alone through a country with a bit of a security reputation shall we say, meeting this culture clash I was so glad I'd gone ahead with it.

And so began Bolivia, as I found myself squeezed into a smelly bus seat next to people jostling in the aisle for standing room, bumping along what was supposed to be a road )I'm pretty sure it was actually a river bed at one point) for several hours en route to Butch Cassidy territory and the 2900m high town of Tupiza, mourning the loss of the fantastically comfortable Argentinian buses with their wide and almost fully reclining seats, hot meals, blankets, pillows and movies.
Next post I will tell you all about the last few days in the Altiplano including my victory over altitude sickness, the biggest salt flats in the world and why one should be grateful that it 'is only'-3C.

All my love and chau for now!

Iguazu Falls (photos)

Llama on the menu

In the provinces of Salta and Jujuy where I have spent the last week or so, the regional specialty is llama. A little disconcerting at first since they´re so iconic to South America, but I suppose it´s a bit like us Aussies eating kangaroos. Anyway, we figured that we should try some llama meat, and we got it in a few forms...

First, we took a shot at a pretty delicious sounding dish of llama steaks cooked in peach sauce accompanied by potatoes, parsley and goat´s cheese, as well as a bottle of the local viño tinto (red wine). Well, don´t know what happened to the sauce, parsley and goat´s cheese (maybe the truck went awol off one of those crazy roads...), but the potatoes were good and the llama actually was really nice! A little tougher than other meats, but tasty nonetheless.

Another variation was that of the regional specialty locro, a type of soup with pretty much anything I think such as beans, corn, pulses, vegies, and meat (yes, including llama). It´s really nice, and makes a change from the usual meat-and-salad combination! Plus, it´s a bit more warming on those cold, high-altitude nights.

Thirdly, I don´t think I´ve mentioned Empanadas before, but these are another Argentinian obsession. They´re pretty much pastries filled with carne (meat), pollo (chicken), verduras (vegetables), queso (cheese) or yep, you guessed it, llama! If nothing else, you can always be guaranteed to find empanadas on the menu at any eatery in the country! Not sure I could tell the difference between llama empanades and the normal carne, but maybe the blocked nose got in the way!

Speaking of, I´ve been sick for over a week now with a cold, hopefully not Swine Flu (which resulted in a month of holidays here in Salta and there are signs EVERYWHERE in Argentina about being hygenic etc). It was funny going to the Doc here, who thankfully did speak English. This is the first time I´ve been prescribed oxygen 3 times a day and Ivy leaf extract as part of my treatment! Anyway, I´m spending a few extra days in Salta to recuperate fully before returning to self-inflicted sickness at altitude. A good opportunity though to take some Spanish lessons and catch up on the blog and photos!!

Have finally managed to get the photos into photobucket, and have added the links in the sidebar on the right if you´re keen and want to check them all out! Otherwise, I´ll post them as slideshows over the next few days so they aren´t all in one chunk (many many photos!!).

Hasta la proxima!

Recolletta and San Telmo Market (photos)

¨...Beep beep, beep beep, yeah!¨

Ok, so the road trip continues...

To the rest of the world, it must seem a little strange that Britain and its derivitaves such as Australia drive on the left-hand side of the road. But we all know we´re the normal ones! So my first experience driving on the wrong side of the road certainly took some getting used to. For starters, my left hand had to learn to hold the wheel straight on its own, something which it´s apparently unaccustomed to doing - but, once I´d worked out that the door handle didn´t help to change gears and that windscreen wipers weren´t particularly good indicators, I think I got the hang of it pretty quickly (with a few reminders from the backseat on unlined roads and intersections!!).

I think we´ve travelled the equivalent of Melbourne to Sydney and back in the last few days, about 1600km anyway. But unlike the lovely, smooth, well-signed Hume Highway with its possum bridges, we´ve instead had to slow down for llama crossings and attempt to negotiate the unpredictable and often frustratingly illogical Argentinian road system, which is in dire need of some signage and repair. We´ve driven on anything from straight and loooong two lane paved roads, to corrugated gravel tracks, salt pans, and windy mountainous passes better suited to bike-widths than cars (or trucks for that matter...).

Particularly difficult to understand is what makes a stretch of road worthy of being sealed. I´m not sure how these decisions are made, but it makes no sense to me that you can be for example, driving along a seemingly main road between places that switches any number of times between gravel and sealed (if you can call it that when there are HUGE potholes to be avoided! But it has been nice to be in a car again on the open road, driving through fields of cacti backed by rugged mountain ranges, and being able to stop at leasure to take in the silence and stillness and snap photos of everything from the ever-changing landscapes to donkeys, llamas, goats, horses, cowboys and shephards.

Particularly nice was the stretch through the National Park de los Cardones. Though it didn´t feel like we were climbing that high, by the time we reached the highest point on the drive we were about 4000m above sea level. At the top there was a small church, and the most spectacular view across the sunshine drenched valley below. Breathtaking (literally)!

The way down took us back towards Salta, where there is a traintrack built unashamedly for touristic purposes that winds its way ¨a las nubes (to the clouds)¨ of the Andean plateau through the Quebrada del Toro, a spectacular journey and popular attraction. If only it were actually running once in a while! It has been closed for a few years, and in recent times has been sporadic at best but thankfully there is a road following close to the same route allowing you to experience the same spectacular scenery en route to the seen-better-days desert town of San Antonio de Los Cobres, 3700m above sea level. If you´re lucky like we were, you might even pass a film crew on the road with a poor girl wrapped in a towel in the freezing wind waiting for her cowboy to come along!

The piece de resistance of the train track is a bridge that extends between two mountains which seems incredibly high and narrow. If I hadn´t been flattened by altitude sickness, I could have appreciated this engineering masterpiece a little better, but as it where I could only manage to step out of the car for about 3 minutes to take a photo and go ¨wow¨. Altitude sickness sucks, let me tell you, and is not helped by having a cold at the same time! The headache is splitting, the nausea debilitating, and loss of appetite unhelpful. Thank goodness it is easily fixed by descent!

Now lastly today, a little request to everyone reading to make yourself known to me by leading the pack and becoming a follower! It´s been great getting all your messages and I´m so glad to hear everyone´s enjoying the blog so much, so it´d be great to have you following so I can keep track of who´s reading! Signing up is really easy, under followers click ´follow´ and ´create a google account´, type in your current email and password, and that´s it! This will also allow you to leave comments on the blog, or otherwise please continue to email/facebook me directly because it´s great to hear from everyone!

Once again I´ve well and truly filled a post, so llamas will have to wait for next time, as will the final part(s) of the drive and my latest experience with the Argentinian healthcare system.

Chau amigos!

The desert wilds

Hola amigos!

Feel like I haven´t written in a while, but I guess sometimes you need time to have the adventures before you can write about them!! And over the last week, there have been plenty of adventures! From getting kidnapped at the bus station by some crazy Europeans to suffering the effects of dizzying altitudes in the Argentinian highlands, the last few days have taken me through some of the most captivating scenery I´ve ever seen. I only hope I can do it justice in both describing and showing you (again, photos waiting on a computer capable of uploading them!)!!

It all started after a 24 hour bus ride from Iguazu (which will be a whole nother story in itself!), and me arriving somewhat dazed at the bus station in Salta, approached within minutes by some dude claiming to be my transfer to the hostel which I hadn´t arranged. As I was trying to work out whether he was trying to scam me for all I have (100 pesos and some dirty laundry at that stage!), I bumped into my friends from the football match in BA who were on their way to rent a car for the week and drive around some of the towns in the area. Sounded like a pretty good idea to me, as there is lots to see and tours are expensive, so cancelled my hostel and jumped straight in the car with them (hadn´t had enough driving for the day apparently!).

We were headed south to the town of Cafayate, along route 69 which snakes its way through the Quebrada de Cafayate, and some absolutely spectacular scenery. I´m a bit of a fan of arid landscapes, and this was definitely a dry place to be, but the changing colours, shapes and textures seemed to create a new picture-postcard opportunity at every turn. I think this would be a geologists paradise, but as I´m no expert on the subject my best description is that it looked like someone had taken to the place with a giant jackhammer. All the rock strata were poking out at strange angles and I´m sure all those colours etc tell of some interesting geological story as to how the place came to be, but that might be a job for google at another time.

Cafayate itself is quite bizarre, as having come through a seemingly dry and hostile landscape, you pop up in this small little town of adobe houses surrounded by vineyards in what is apparently one of Argentina´s best wine producing regions. We thankfully had a lovely hostel to stay in, with a Señora who was so friendly and motherly (and concerned we had hot water!) giving us kisses and god-bless-yous goodbye it made me want to stay more than just one night!

But alas, much more to see, and from Cafayate we went to Quilmes, some Inca ruins further south. I couldn´t get used to the contrast of the imposing, barren mountains as a backdrop for lush vineyards, but apparently it works! The ruins themselves were impressive, all stone walls reminiscent of Yorkshire fields that extended right up the mountain like an ampitheatre. Unfortunately the English translation in the booklets was absolutely impossible to understand so don´t really have any idea what it was about. As in any foreign country translations (or lost in translations) are quite hilarious here sometimes. The combination of words tends to make absolutely no sense, presumably plucked straight from the internet by someone with zero English. If I can find the brochure, I´ll put some extracts up for a laugh!

The drive on took us through more mountains and little villages (sometimes consisting only of a signpost. Or a donkey!). Unlike BA, the people here are much darker, and culturally they are worlds apart. This is apparently one of Argentina´s poorest regions, but even in mudbrick houses the small farming communities seem to work. The towns are pretty, clean and quite quaint, with immaculate plazas that suggest to me a level of pride amongst the very friendly people (that thankfully speak a little slower up here!) despite their lack of financial wealth. And, the adobe houses make for lovely photos in the setting sun!

So that is the first half of this week´s adventures I won´t push your reading limits. I will save the altitude stories and llama cuisine for next time.

Adios amigos!