Lakes District

Chile - La Serena and Valporaiso

Snow play

My latest adventures are joined together with a common theme that seems to have surfaced lately, all having been concentrated in somewhat colder circumstances than those in the deserts of the North. Dropping from 15· to 40· south does make something of a difference to the temperature! Difference enough in fact for some snow to fall and provide some great opportunities for fun and adventure!

First up: Skiing (Valle Nervado, Santiago)

I'd pretty much given up on being able to make the ski season while I was in South America this time around, so when I got to Santiago and found posters all around the hostel advertising that the season had been extended due to new snowfalls I jumped at the chance to go: half a day, half the runs open, half the price, all gear and transport included, and still cheaper than a lift ticket alone costs at home!!

So into a car with 2 Americans, a German, a Pom (fiercely denying he was practically Aussie after spending most his life there), a real Aussie from just around the corner from me in Melbourne and 2 Brazilian cricketers from the national team who'd never seen snow (and who new Brazil had a cricket team PS?? Funnier still was that they all had to learn English to play the game and on field they all talk in English rather than their native Portuguese-even to slag the opposition!).

The drive to the mountain was a little scary (as I have come to expect in SA) on a windy road, the quality of which left something to be desired considering it was the only major route to Santiago's premier skiing destination! The cause was not helped by the driver informing us that a woman and her child had died in recent mudslides/rockfalls over the road, and the numerous enormous boulders that still could be seen from these falls along the way. But the drive was very picturesque, and somewhat surreal what with snow capped peaks looming above as cactus continued to dot the mountain right up to the snow line.

Now for the end of the season, I was expecting a bit of snow, patchy cover, and maybe an ok run or two avoiding bare patches and rocks. I could hardly believe it when we arrived and there was nothing but white on all the runs, and the whole place was ghostly free of people. I thought that it was probably more snow at their season's end than I'd seen any of the times I'd been skiing in Australia and couldn't understand where all the people were and why we couldn't use the whole mountain!! My only thought could be that they are so spoilt during the season anything less than several meters isn't worth the trouble! I can't imagine how amazing it must be at peak season, but my first experience skiing in the Andes was enough to make me want to go back and see. Above the tree line, wide open runs and wonderful views to the valleys and mountains around, the fact that the sun was shining made it all the more beautiful.

Second: Climbing Villarica Volcano (Pucon, Chile)

I hadn't intended going into the Chilean South, but word from several people about the beauty of the place easily convinced me to check it out. One of the magnets of the Lakes District is Pucon, where it is possible to do pretty much any adventure activity you want. Top on most people's list is to climb up Villarica Volcano, one of the most active in Chile, about 2800m above sea level,, covered in snow and picture perfect (it also has a ski centre on it but again, closed despite the generous snow cover still present!).

Hiking in snow was much more difficult than I'd expected at first, and my feet felt like they had lead weights on them with the boots we'd been given. But it became clear that the road to the mountain was the hardest bit as it was so churned up and icy. Thankfully the lift to jump you up a few km had reopened for the first time in 2 weeks, so with a little head start we began our criss-crossing march to the top, a 3 hour journey not nearly as difficult as the first half hour had suggested! We had to use an ice pick for balance and stop every half hr or so for breaks, but the sun was out and I can't tell you how beautiful it was to look out over white snow to cloud covered valleys, enormous blue lakes, and several other snow-capped volcanoes and mountains in the distance. At the top you can hear the sound of water trickling over rocks as it melts into the deep crater (sometimes lava is visible), which puffs out consistant clouds of smoke that smells absolutely foul if you happen to get a whiff as the wind changes. It was probably one of the best views I've ever had over lunch!

But the fun wasn't over there. You may think that walking down a snow-covered mountain would be mighty difficult for fear of falling and sliding down...but actually, that's exactly the way to do it! Sit on your butt, use your ice-pick as a rudder and your feet for brakes and away you go!! You can even go in pairs or threes like a bobsled team, the front ones holding the feet of those behind. Three hours up and 20 minutes down, it was probably the funnest thing I've done so far and we were all giggling like kids in a candy store the whole way. Absolutely brilliant.

Three: Bariloche, Argentina

Bariloche is a well-known Argentinian ski destination, with one of South America's biggest ski centres located at nearby Cerro Cathedral. But this time of year, the weather is supposed to be much nicer in the low 20's, allowing some beautiful hikes around the surrounding landscape. Arriving in Bariloche was via a most stunning drive. The road between the Chilean and Argentinan border posts took us through ancient looking forests of Patagonian Cypress covered in wind whipped lichens, crystal clear rivers flowing into dazzlingly blue lakes, and of course the ever-present Andes standing over it all with their elegant dusting of white snow. Following this drive, I had high hopes of seeing the beauty of this region close-up with some walks around the renowned Nahual Huapi National Park.

So I checked into what turned out to be one of my favourite hostels so far: "1004". I had wondered about the strange name of the place until I arrived and found it was actually the address. Not the street address though, 100f actually stood for apartment 4, level 10. That's right, the penthouse! It has been turned into one of the friendliest, cosiest, homeliest hostels run by absolutely lovely staff, and has absolutely stunning views across Bariloche and the lake.

However, I actually only saw this view on the day I arrived, because the next morning I woke to a complete white-out to find that a snow storm had arrived, the weather was literally freezing, and a light dusting of powder had settled on the lovely alpine buildings characteristic of the town. It felt like christmas (or how I'd expect white christmas to be anyway!), and I didn't mind too much an excuse to sit indoors in the warm with a book and watch the snow flakes swirl in the wind past the window, and every now and then catch a glimpse of the icy churning lake, so charming and serene looking in the sunshine!

Reports were that the weather was to hang around a while, and I couldn't bring myself to head further south to Glaciar-land where it would no doubt be Antarctic. So vowing to return to the Lakes District to see it properly another time (or maybe even in true winter to hit the slopes!), I left on my last long-distance bus ride back to Buenos Aires.

And that is where I am now, sadly in my last week away but happily in much warmer weather! I've skimmed a few things in the blog which I might have time to backtrack and fill you in on. It's been so much fun writing for you all and your emails and comments have been fabulous to get and I'm stoked that so many of you have been reading- but more importantly enjoying reading- this blog. Thanks so much!! More photos will be coming up so look out for them soon.

Chau for now!

Chile: the cartographers dilemma

Chile can at times be a difficult country to get your orientation in thanks to the fact that all the maps of any useful detail in the guidbooks are split over several disconnetced pages, making locations of and distances between places difficult to asses. As such, when I decided to bee line straight from Arequipa to Santiago a few enquiries at the bus station quickly made it clear that a stopover was going to be needed unless I wanted close to 40 hours straight in the bus (though during one of those stops I did meet a girl who´d made her way from Ecuador to middle Chile, about a 3 day journey!).

So after a brief stop in Arica where I could finally set eyes on the ocean again and wave to my homeland from the other side of the Pacific, the next day I boarded my longest bus ride yet. My journey took me 23 hours south to La Serena, with nothing in between but mile after mile of endless desert-The Atacama desert to be precise-more famous as the driest place on earth. Yep, out here there is literally nothing but dirt, rocks and barren mountains covering about 1000km. Though spectacular in its own way, I gotta say brown does get a little bit dull after a while! By the time I got to La Serena even the modest colourings of the coastal desert (read cacti) took on an exaggerated beauty. However, travelling inland the next day there was nothing exaggerated about the beauty of the flowers to be found blooming in yet another tract of desert. A multitude of vibrant colourings and a wonderful diversity of shapes and sizes glowed as the sun set over orange sands and cacti fell into silhouette against the mountains.

It was a fitting floral end to what had mostly been a fauna oriented day, having taken a trip to the Damas Islands to see some of Chile´s marine life, and in particular the endangered Humboldt Penguins. Unfortunately the crystal clear blue waters and white sand beaches from the pictures didn´t have quite the same idyllic feel in reality as grey storm clouds threatened and winds chilled me to the core. But being joined by a pod of dolphins dipping and diving around the boat (and even jumping into the air to wave goodbye!) made it all worthwhile. Seeing seals, penguins, cormorants, boobies (the avian variety!), and even an otter was fine compensation for the bleak weather.

Unfortunately I was fast becoming aware that my travelling time was running out, and still with much to see in the rest of Chile I turned to yet another map page in my LP to determine my next destination in the thin country and again hit the bus station...next stop? Valparaiso, the shabby chic photographers dream...

Arequipa and Colca Canyon

Travel lessons from a gelateria

I´ve never been great at making choices. Faced with too many possibilities I'm easily overwhelmed into indecision. Like the gelateria in Rome I went to once that prided itself on having 100 flavours of icecream. I was a total wreck- how to choose between so many delicious possibilities?

South America has sometimes felt like that gelateria. Often I find myself faced with so many enticing options that deciding on where to go next can be quite the dilemma. Cuzco was one of the most difficult crossroads as I was forced to finally decide: North vs South, Equatorial sun vs the wilds of Patagonia. In the end, the lure of the southernmost point in the world won out, and I found myself en route to Arequipa, my last stop in Peru where another of South America's '-est' attractions awaited.

Whether it be the biggest, longest, highest, driest, most dangerous (est) etc, everything in South America seems to have an ´-est´ attached to it. In Arequipa, it´s the deepest. The deepest Canyon in the World: Colca Canyon. Such is the size of Colca that looking into it from the top, the whole view (top to bottom) didn't even fit on the screen of my digi camera! After soothing our tired feet in the cooling river at the bottom of the canyon, we arrived in what seemed like a little slice of paradise after a long trek. The little town we came to was surrounded by fertile fields sown with all number of crops and groves of fruit trees. In quaint stone walled paddocks donkeys were mulling over juicy grass as we walked along Inkan canals to the little straw rooved huts in which we would spend the night. Sitting on the grass watching the sun set over the canyon could only have been better with a fresh gin and tonic in hand!

Though idillic in setting, life in the canyon is by no means easy. Alcoholism is high and consequently male machismo often turns to violence, of which wives are usually the primary victims. A stop to the local medical centre brought the problem to life. The centre serves a dozen towns within the canyon, but as access to all of these can only be by foot or donkey, there is nothing speedy about medical treatment. The most distant town takes 1 and a half days to reach by foot, a round trip of 3 days for anyone requiring medical attention.

Prior to the centre having an oven for sterilization, the story was recounted of a woman waiting patiently for sterilized equipment to be returned from hours away, while her severed finger hung from her hand. Risks in childbirth too become a problem when women fail to make the journey to attend regular check ups throughout their pregnancies given the distance and the time out of their duties required to make the appointments, resulting in many preventable deaths of mothers, babies or both. These are some of the poorest people in Peru, but also some of the loveliest. And though medical provisions are vastly lacking, the saving grace is the fertile lands mean that no one here goes hungry and tradition medicines can often be employed to treat some ailments.

So after an educational trek and a lazy afternoon lounging in swimming pools at the canyon's oasis, it was time to walk back up that horribly steep hillside with its four hours of torcherously steep switchbacks-well, if you're a sucker for punishment that is... The smart ones? The smart ones ride a mule! So we saddled up our noble steeds and let them do the work, as their master trotted along behind on foot with unbelievable fitness for his age encouraging his charges along with shouts of mules, mules, vamos! (let's go!) the entire way. I think Juan was more concerned for the welfare of his mules after carrying the guys with their heavier weights and packs, because for him the climb was "no problemo", and even after the 2 hr steady climb he'd barely raised a sweat!

And with that came the end of my time in Peru, where I felt like I got back to Pachamama (mother earth) with some fantastic outdoor experiences and incredibly beautiful natural wonders. But even though I'd decided to leave Peru from Arequipa, I found myself again with that 100-flavours feeling of indecision and as I boarded my bus into Chile, I still hadn't decided where exactly I was going to stop. San Pedro? Arica? La Serena? Valparaiso? Chocolate? Hazlenut? Berry? Lemon? When it comes down to it, you can't really go wrong no matter what you choose. In South American terms, sacrificing one amazing site is only going to be rewarded with another spectacular experience so typical of almost every option available to you on this crazy/beautiful continent, and so you can never lose by deciding on a last minute whim the location of your next journey. All it depends on is time, money, and how many hours at a time you can stand sitting in a bus...

So until next time chicos, keep well and stay tuned for Chile!

Cuzco and Machu Picchu (photos)

Machu Picchu

The traditional Inka trail trek is so popular that you have to book a place several months in advance if you plan to do it. I didn't, so an alternative was always on the cards. I wasn't much up for gasping my way through thin air and days of leg burning hikes, so signed up instead for a different tour called 'Inka Jungle' which offered a bit more variation and a bit less exertion {well, supposedly}.

Though terribly disorganised the activities we did actually do were all fantastic, starting with a bike ride where we desended about 1500m from freezing altitude to warm jungle, the air temperature noticibly increasing with every turn on the 2 hour down hill ride to the town of Santa Maria. Although La Paz has the "world's most dangerous road", I think this could have come in a close second. The bends were sharp, the passing trucks were large, the road was narrow, and the drop off the side unthinkable. More scary than the bike ride though was the taxi journey between Santa Maria and Santa Theresa afterwards, where we were destined to spend the afternoon soaking in some hot springs. Well I'm glad we made it as our driver zoomed along a windy dirt road twisting and turning with no apparent need to use the brakes. I think he was entirely reliant on others hearing his tooting at every bend and giving way, because he certainly favoured the horn!!

By the time we got to the hot springs we definitely needed to wind down, and so spent an hour or so lying in what felt like a large warm bath under the stars watching the bats zoom by overhead. Bliss! After celebrating a birthday on the tour with some Peruvian pisco sours {pisco, lime juice, ice, sugar and egg whites. mmm.}, the next day we walked along the train line to the town of Aguas Callientes, the jumping off point to Machu Picchu. A tough climb up steep steps and long wooden ladders gave us a fantastic overview of the entire Machu Picchu site in the afternoon that not many seem to take in, and built the anticipation some more for getting there the next day (and the dread at the hundreds of steps you could see cut into the hill to get there).

At 4 in the morning as we began the first of what felt like a million of those steps leading up to Machu Picchu, I was well and truly looking forward to meeting the place in person. It really does feel a bit mystical as you get there {despite the hoards of tourists you're competing with}. As the mist finally rose and the city came into view, surrounded by towering peaks you've gotta wonder what possessed them to build a massive stone city in such a place. We joked that the architects and builders must've been begging the king to reconsider "seriously your highness, building up mountains is so BC". But royalty always gets its way, and I feel for the messengers who used to have to run, repeat run, between Machu Picchu and Cuzco daily {about a 3hr-ish drive} getting energy only from Coca leaves! But the exhaustion of the climb for us mere mortals is worth it because the city the Inka's left behind I found to be truly worthy of the hype that surrounds it, and was one of the most amazing things so far!

Though sad to leave Cuzco, of course more fun awaited in the South. The worst thing is always having to say goodbye to the great people you meet along the way. But on to Arequipa, the deepest canyon in the world, and a little touch of paradise...

Chau chau amigos xox

Proxima para; Peru

From one side of Lake Titicaca to the other, from Copacabana I crossed into Peru to the nothing-to-write-home-about town of Puno. Of more interest here than the town itself are the unique and unbelievable floating islands, still inhabitated by what looks to be the final generation of the Quecha speaking fisherman culture, now entirely reliant on tourism to survive. A trip to the islands is worth the feeling of exploitation however, just to see with your own eyes that the impossible sounding engineering actually works-everything in the village, even the 'land' upon which it's built is artfully constructed using the reeds at Lake Titicaca. But you wouldn't want to be in a hurry for the toilet, which is on a separate island a 10 minute boat trip away!!

The feeling of exploitation continued a little when a guy at the bus station messed me around with my bus to Cuzco, resulting in me paying money for services I didn't actually get (we were meant to stop at some interesting places along the way but my new ticket didn't include the entry costs because he switched my voucher for a ticket on his company instead of the one I booked!!). But it's funny how things work out, and I ended up meeting an Aussie girl who I spent the next week or so with in Cuzco where we had such a blast!! There are some places that attract hoards of backpackers and Cuzco +Loki hostel is definitely one of them! On a hill overlooking the beautiful city of Cuzco with it's Inka walls and terracotta rooves, the puffing climb up the hill to Loki was well worth it, and after about a week there I found myself seriously tempted to take up their offer requesting workers. I don't know if it was the people, the place or a maybe a bit of both but it was a really fun week-- not to mention the activities around Cuzco outside bar-hours!

From Cuzco stretches the Sacred Valley, right up to the pinnacle of Inka ruins-Machu Picchu of course. But before seeing the main event, it's nice to take in some of the lesser known places such as Sachsaywaman {'sexy woman' to the tourists!} and the churches around Cuzco which were built by the Spanish on sacred Inkan sites, but still contain elements of the Inkan constructions and beliefs cleverly incorporated by the slaves the Spanish used for their construction. But wandering around looking at ruins can get a bit dull after a while, so for a different view I decided to take to the air and signed up for paragliding with Linda. Let me tell you, I don't think there is a better way to see the Sacred Valley than sitting up there taking in the view of snow capped peaks rooted in a lush green valley dotted with towns and surrounded by ruins of ancient times past. It was totally chevre {cool}!!

So the anticipation was building to see Machu Picchu, and the talk at the hostel is all about "have you been? When are you going? What trek are you taking?". So it was time to get going, and the next day we were picked up at 7 to start the journey to the most impressive Inkan ruins around....

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)