Life, it's a game of two halves

Yeah, I know. It’s a cliché. But then, life is full of them isn’t it? It’s only when something really happens in your life, and I mean REALLY happen, that you suddenly sit up, take notice and start paying attention.

Life really IS too short. A fact brought suddenly into focus when you lose loved ones. This is when the truisms captured within clichés really start biting you in the ass!

So, as I approach my 40th birthday I was suddenly hit, despite almost 40 years warning to prepare for it, with the realisation that I am most probably half way through my life. And that is hoping that I’m one of the lucky ones who get a good innings, to coin a(nother) cliché.

I’ve had a solid first half, done some amazing things, travelled the world, met many wonderful people of all cultures. But as I begin to mentally think through my half time team talk, I wonder whether I need to make any tactical changes, or substitutions to affect the full time score.

If I come out in the second half, play the same game as I’ve been playing, will I be happy with the final score? I will have put in a solid performance. A game I maybe should be happy with. But could I have done more? Did I really stretch myself? Did I live my dreams, or just my life?

What about that second language I always promised myself? Living in a foreign country, rather than travelling through? Didn’t I dream of owning and running my own coffee shop? Only I can make these pipe dreams a reality. And I can. If I decide that I don’t want to settle for a draw in the biggest game of my life. I can.

As the whistle is about to be blown for the end of the first half, I need to decide how I am going to play the second half.

It certainly is going to be some half time team talk.

What happened to Peru? - part 2

My last post had us at the end of my short stay in Arequipa, my first stop in Peru. I had heard so much about Peru that I came with very high expectations. Maybe too high. Depending on which direction people were travelling in, seemed to influence their thoughts on a country.

This wasn't just the case for Peru, it was everywhere I went. Travellers coming south from Colombia could not say enough good things about the place and everywhere else seemed to pale into comparison. Bumping into people who had come from Bolivia meant that anywhere that had a good bus service and decent food was Utopia.

I had travelled around and up through Argentina, a country that I absolutely love. A couple of weeks in Chile, including a blissful 4 days in Iquique, combined with Argentina probably wasn't the best preparation. I had become spoiled by two of the jewels of South America. So Peru didn't make the immediate impression on me that I expected.

Puno from afar.



And things didn't get any better when rocking into Puno after a 6 hour bus journey from Arequipa. What a hole Puno is and if it wasn't for the fact that it nestles the shores of Lake Titicaca, I doubt it would get any visitors at all. I got a taxi from the bus station and joylessly stared out the windows as I was driven to my hostel, Pirwa Backpackers. As with a lot of "budget" accommodation, I got a bad first impression of Pirwa, but the two days I had there were uneventful enough for me to forget my initial negative impression of the place. That said, there were no social areas so I didn't see any other backpackers, and the breakfast was beyond perfunctory.



But the purpose of my visit was to get out to Lake Titicaca and see the floating villages, which I did on day 2. A half day boat trip ticked all my boxes and I thoroughly enjoyed the excursion, and knowing that this is how the islanders make their money, I had fun bartering with the locals as they displayed their wares. I did think to myself though, "would ever buy one of those mobile decorations?", and I had my answer later that evening when meeting Vix and Hannah for dinner. You dumped them yet girls?

Whilst in Puno I also managed to tick off another item off my South American "must do" list. Eat cuy. Or more commonly known at home as guinea pig. I had to admit, it wasn't a thought I relished but it was something I knew I had to try whilst in Peru so in i walked and order guinea pig and chips. I kid you not. And the all important question. What did it taste like? Yup, you guessed it. Chicken. I kid you not!



Another night in the soulless hostel and we were ready to move on. To a place that I was genuinely excited about. Cusco. Home of the Incas and gateway to Machu Picchu. As i boarded the 7.30am Inka Express to Cusco I had the sudden realisation that I was soon going to be visiting one of the greatest places in the world, one that I had thought about for many years.

What happened to Peru? - Part 1, Arequipa

Indeed, a damn good question. What did happen to it? Here I am, back home in the UK reliving my trip through the blogs that I wrote when something starts to look amiss. I have Argentina, then there is Bolivia, oh, and a bit of Chile.

But, where is Peru? Nada. Nothing. I must have completely forgotten to write a blog post about it. I don't even have a draft saved anywhere in my files.

So here it is. From memory and from my notes. Apologies if I miss anything out and no doubt if I do, Spongebob and Squarepants (you know who you are) will correct the record.

My first stop in Peru was at Arequipa. When I finally got there. This was a trip in itself. Leaving Arica (on the Chilean side of the border) at 8am I had to share a collectivo (shared taxi) with 3 locals who were also heading into Peru. The first part of the journey took the best part of an hour, to the Chile border. We then had a long wait before clearing Chilean customs and off we went again to the Peru border, again for another wait. After finishing up with the formalities it was back in the collectivo and about an hour later we were in Tacna, the first town in Peru.



We got dropped off at the bus station and my first job was to find an ATM so I could get some Peruvian currency. After trudging around two bus stations I managed to find a working cash machine and got my all important Peruvian Soles. Now I had to lug my bag around the station as I found a bus that went to Arequipa, some 6 hours away.

After a breakfast of a croissant and a bottle of Inka Cola I found myself on the 11.45am Tacna to Arequipa bus, run by Flores. My first taste of Peruvian buses. I had been recommended to use Cruz del Sur but that bus didn't set off til an hour later and I wanted to get back on the road.

The journey was pleasant enough, as much as a 6 hour (that becomes 8) can be and I was deposited in Areqiuipa bus station after night fall. This is where the fun began. I had read numerous stories, and been warned, about taking certain taxis in Arequipa. The town is renowned for taxi kidnappings, where you are taken to the nearest cash point and made to empty your bank account. The taxis to avoid were so-called "match box" taxis and I thought they would be easy to avoid. However, on arrival in Arequipa it seemed that all the taxis were of this variety. Shit, I'm gonna get kidnapped. It's getting late, it's dark and i'm tired. Please don't kidnap me.



So, with bag on back, off I went, out of the bus station, into the street to find a taxi that I hoped would take me to the hostel and not the nearest ATM. And I found one thankfully. A bit more expensive that I wanted to pay but I was grateful to arrive safely at Arequipay Backpacker House in one piece, and with all my money.

And what a welcome. The hostel was one of the best I have ever stayed in. It was a large, modern house with all the amenities one could ever hope for. Large reception, pool table, table tennis table (at which I was later to show my prowess - you reading Vix?), a large TV in the lounge and a 52" TV in the movie room. And wi-fi through the whole house. It was amazing and only a 15 minute walk to a large supermarket.



I was in a 3 bed dorm with two great English girls, Vicky and Hannah. It's fair to say that they were engrossed in their Kindles for most of the time but when they got bored, and wanted to chat, they were good fun. We found ourselves travelling on together from Arequipa to first Puno and then onto Cusco.

Arequipa itself is a town with some great looking buildings but if i'm honest, I was expecting a whole lot more after the way that some travellers had talked it up. Yeah, Santa Catalina monastery is amazing, and the centre had some amazing buildings, but again i was a little underwhelmed. It may have been a bit of fatigue, or a case of "No More Rocks" (read this great blog post) but I was slightly disappointed. Traffic mayhem, people and touts everywhere, it was a relief to chill in the hostel in the evening. A cold beer, a takeout and a movie. Bliss.

Colombia and why you should go

Colombia is one of those countries that seems to get over looked, passed over by a lot of people on the basis of misplaced notions of how safe the place is. Mention to anybody in England that you are off to travel around Colombia and you are greeted with a “are you serious?” face.

Won't you get kidnapped? Held hostage by FARC (Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia)? Forced to become a drugs mule? Be held deep in the jungles and be made to work on a cocaine refining plant?



Well, no. Actually you won't. At least I, nor any of the other travellers I met who visited Colombia did. And there was one recurring theme running through all the comments heard from people had had been to Colombia, “it is my favourite place in the whole of South America”. And you know what? I'm inclined to agree.

On first arriving in Colombia, after travelling through Argentina, Chile and Peru, I did experience a renewed sense of culture shock. Where were all the gringos that are synonymous with backpacking through South America? Maybe they had heeded the uneducated warnings received in their home countries about how dangerous Colombia is. Where are the buses catering for travellers that make life so much easier, such as Andesmar in Argentina and Cruz del Sur in Peru? And my first lunch stop highlighted how different and relatively untouched Colombia is from the tourist trail. Of all the food on display in the outdoor cafeteria, I could only recognise rice. I later discovered that the meal on offer was a Bandeja Paisa. A traditional dish from Medellin, a dish that I also discovered to be beautiful, cheap, plentiful (on every side street cafe menu) and filling.



South Americans do not speak much English. Why would they need to? But I also noticed that in Colombia, even the few words that were spoken in other, more visited countries, were missing. I really was on my own here, just me and my Spanish dictionary. And it times it was very hard which led me in the early days to feel that Colombia wasn't as friendly as the other countries I had visited. How wrong could I be? Colombians turned out to be probably the friendliest of all the people I met. You couldn't pass anybody without getting a friendly “hola amigo”, or a “que tal”, enquiring how you were. And always accompanied with a large beaming smile. I suppose they have a lot to smile about, they live in an awesome, beautiful country, one that I will definitely be returning to at some point in my future.



From the culture and numerous museums of cold, chilly and wet Bogota, through the beautifully preserved colonial towns of places such as Villa de Leyva, San Augustin and San Gil, upto the coffee zone and to amazing little places like Salento in the mountains, and further north, to the Caribbean coast where there are gems such as Cartagena and Santa Marta (home of Tayrona National park). Colombia really does have it all. In spades.

Yes, there is a gritty side to Colombia, how could there not be? Colombia still provides some 80% of the world's cocaine. There is still a large, underground drugs trade which brings its obvious associated issues. There are police with large machine guns almost on every corner. I should know, I spent half an hour on one such corner one day, under the glare of about 8 machine gun toting police whilst I tried to explain in Spanish why I didn't have a nice little identity card like all the Colombians had! That was fun!!!



And the drugs are plentiful. But if you go to a beautiful country like Colombia, and can't have an amazing time drinking rum, taking in the sights and enjoying the glorious sun without the need for illegal drugs, then you are inviting trouble on yourself.



Looking for a holiday unlike any other? Somewhere you will never forget? Go to Colombia, now.

The Holy Grail(s) of South America

Planning this trip, it was suggested that I was heading to South America to search for the Holy Grail. But the question I often asked was, the Holy Grail of what? You see, it can mean many things to many people. We all have different wants and needs in life so one man's Holy Grail could be another man's............well, just about anything.

This got me thinking, how about searching for my personal Holy Grail in a number of categories? As I travelled through the great continent that is South America I knew that I would be seeing some amazing sights, be having some amazing food and maybe, just maybe, also having a few drinks, just to complement the food you understand!

So, with the trip slowly becoming just a memory, here are my thoughts on my Holy Grails.

Holy Grail of......food

Without doubt, Patagonian spit roasted lamb. I had this in a restaurant in Ushuaia, ordering from the menu, as opposed to the “all you can eat” offer that was slightly above my backpacker budget. Taken fresh from the open BBQ, a hunk of meat was hacked off and served up. And as I tasted it, it was divine. Heavenly. Words could not adequately describe the taste as the lamb, so tender it fell off the bone, slowly melted in my mouth. And as I finished, the waiter asked, nay insisted, that I have second helpings. Go on then, I don't want to be rude.




Holy Grail of......tourist sights

I could have gone for the obvious option, and it would have been here on merit, but the breathtaking sight that is Machu Picchu is a little too obvious. Instead, I am going for a place that I had never even heard of until I arrived in Argentina. The Glacier Perito Moreno is amazing. It is 3 miles wide and 19 miles long and is one of only 3 Patagonian glaciers that is actually growing. From the various viewing platforms in the National Park you get great views, which are at once peaceful and at the same time thunderous, as large chunks of ice regularly crash off the glacier as it continues to move.



Holy Grail of......wine

I hope there are no Chileans reading this, knowing the intense rivalry between the two very important wine growing countries, but Argentina just nicks it for me. The Carmenere grape grown in Casablanca, Chile is a very quaffable alternative but my vote goes to the Argentinian Malbec.
I had plenty of opportunity to sample a few Malbecs in my 7 weeks in Argentina, which included a cycling tour of the wineries in Mendoza, the home of Malbec. Bacchus Bike and Wine tours of Chacras, a 40 minute bus ride from downtown Mendoza. There are other bike tours of the various wineries of Mendoza but the others cater mostly to young backpackers and offer lower quality wines, focussing on getting the travellers inebriated. For me, it is all about the wine, and if you are going to drink only one, make it Malbec.



This post could have been so much longer, a top 5, a top 10, etc etc etc. And there are so many things that could have been included but I had to draw the line somewhere.

The things that have not made it into this top 3 include the beautiful women of South America, be they the flawless wonders of Argentina or the created, pneumatic beauties of Colombia; the friendliness of the Colombian people; and finally, the tackiness that is Hooters, that pervades picturesque cities such as Buenos Aries and Medellin. You understand that I only visited for research purposes, to benefit you guys, my readers.

Pablo Escobar's Medellín

I couldn't come to Medellin without paying a visit to it's most famous son. I didn't actually see him but his grave is one of the stops on the Pablo Escobar tour. A lot of you will have heard of Pablo Escobar, many may not, but prior to this trip my knowledge was drawn from the well written, and researched “Killing Pablo” by Mark Bowden, seeing Pablo depicted in the Johnny Depp movie Blow, and also that Pablo managed to make Medellin, and Colombia one of the most dangerous places in the world through the 80's and early 90's as a result of his management of the billion dollar Medellin drug cartel, trafficking cocaine all over the world. At one point, there was alleged to have been approx 1 million people directly working for the Medellin cartel, all under the rule of Pablo Escobar.



Since his death, a day after his 44th birthday in 1993, Medellin is a city transformed. No longer afraid of being shot down in the street or being blown up by one of the many car bombs of the period, the locals have taken to the streets and now can be seen in one of the cities many sidewalk cafes, bars and restaurants. I have to agree with the current tourist slogan about Colombia. “The only danger you face is that you may not want to leave”.

The tour was run by a local couple who run Paisa Road tours and do the twice daily tour (min 4 people) from the Casa Kiwi hostel in the Zona Rosa. Incidentally, a fantastic hostel, if you are in the neighbourhood. Picking us up at 10.30am, I had one of the most interesting 3 hours of my life. We got an unbiased take of the rise and subsequent fall of Escobar, straight from the mouth of a Paisa, a local of Medellin. I make this point as there have been numerous other books, painting Escobar in various lights from a Robin Hood type character who just tried to help the poor, to a worldwide criminal who was merciless in killing anybody who dared to stand in his way. With police, politicians and generally anybody who opposed him, his motto was “plata o plomo”, a Spanish phrase meaning silver (money) or lead (bullet), a simple choice in the world of Escobar.

We travelled around Medellin visiting various sites and buildings of interest. Escbar left a big legacy in Medellin in bricks and mortar. Always white buildings too, his homage to the white cocaine he traded in. As Tony Soprano cleaned his dirty money through a “waste management” company, Escobar had his own construction company. And most of his buildings remain, including the first apartment building he built solely for his family. Aside from his security, he only had his 5 family members living here. This was until a drug cartel from a rival city, Cali, planted a car bomb outside and destroyed a lot of the building. It was then taken over by the police but Escobar left a lasting reminder, paying a couple of guys to spray the building with machine gun fire as it was occupied by the police. The bullets hole sprayed across the outside of the building can still clearly be seen from the road.



Pablo Escobar came from humble beginnings but as a child always declared it was his ambition to be rich. It is fair to say that he achieved this. In 1989 Forbes magazine had him as the 7th richest man in the world. He once reputedly burned $2million in US dollars just to keep warm. At his peak, he offered to strike a deal with the president of Colombia. He would repay the national debt to the US in return for impunity against his drug trafficking. An offer refused.

An expert in people management he knew how to get the local community on his side. He built new houses for them and gave them away for free. He built new schools and football pitches. People from the street loved him. However, the other side to Escobar was how went about building his empire and disposing of his enemies. He is credited with inventing the concept of “sicarios”, hit men who prowled the streets of Medellin on motorbike, killing policemen. Reportedly paid $1000US for every policeman they killed, one year saw over 400 policemen murdered on the streets, often by corrupt colleagues who saw it as easy money.

The tide started turning against Escobar when he blew up a passenger jet on a domestic Colombian flight. His target was a high ranking politician, who incidentally didn't take the flight. The bomb on the plane exploded, causing the death of nearly 100 innocent Colombians. As well as at home, he was also attracting interest from the US due to the fact that 80% of the cocaine being used in the US was being sourced directly through Escobar in Colombia.

The net started closing in on Escobar in December 1993 with a task force of Colombian police and the CIA from the USA. A day after he celebrated his 44th birthday, police flooded the city of Medellin in the search for him, and using sophisticated telephone tracing technology, he was tracked down to his aunt's house in a middle class barrio of Medellin. The photos show the outcome as Escobar and his bodyguard, “Lemon” tried to escape by jumping out the window at the back and escaping over the roof. The guy in the red t-shirt is an American CIA agent.





Still in debate to this very day was how did he actually die? He vowed he would never be taken alive, preferring “a grave in Colombia than a cell in America”. Family of Escobar insist that he committed suicide, whilst the security forces took great delight in claiming the scalp of Escobar. However it happened, he was finally dead and Colombia could start the very long process of rebuilding.

Salento - The coffee zone, Colombia

My guide book, The Lonely Planet (my bible), describes Salento as a “must see” destination. As it's a bugger to get there I hoped it was going to be worth it.

An early start from the Casa Bellavista hostel, I had a one hour cab ride to the bus station in Bogota, 8 hours on the bus to Armenia and then a 1 hour bus to Salento, and I was finally here. Tired, slightly grumpy and ready for a good nights sleep at the Plantation House, the “only” place to be in Salento, according to my bible.



On arrival, finding a receptionist who didn't speak a word of English, my first hostel WITHOUT wi-fi, and also my very first hostel where breakfast is not included, I was ready to rip up my Lonely Planet and use it as toilet paper. A commodity I sorely needed as toilets in South America do not supply it. Thankfully, I refrained, and after a good night sleep, and one of my very own jam sandwiches for breakfast, the world felt a much better place.

Salento is in the coffee zone, (Zona Cafetera) in the hills of Colombia. There is only one road in and out. And where I was staying, The Plantation House, is a working coffee farm, with fresh Colombian coffee on the go all day in the kitchen. My kind of place. The town is picture postcard material. And you should see the bars, replete with Colombian men in their ponchos and big cowboy hats sat drinking beer. And not for the tourists. This is really how they live. A slice of real Colombia. Life slowed down by quite a few notches.





My first morning I took one of the jeeps from the Plaza in Salento to Cocora, a lush, palm tree filled valley some 30 minutes from Salento. There are a number of treks in Cocora, the longest being approx 7 hours, but I decided on a much shorter one, having a 3 hour stroll in the valley. And it was paradise. For much of the time the only people I passed were tourists on horseback, most of the time spent in solitude. Obviously something other people thought too. As I took a breather on a rock, soaking up the sun, I got the most pleasant surprise. Walking around the corner came a girl who was completely topless. I tried to divert my eyes, I did, but had to look again to make sure I wasn't dreaming. No. She definitely has no top on and was completely naked to the waist. It took her a few moments to realize that I was there and the look on her face was priceless! I certainly didn't expect that kind of scenery when I set out this morning.



Arriving back in town, I picked up a couple of beers and sat on the verandah of the Plantation House reading my book. The building is over 100 years old and sitting on the wooden deck, with views out over the coffee farm, would have been so relaxing. IF it wasn't for the annoying young fools behind me spending the last 2 hours talking about philosophy and the reason for being. You are young, away from home for the first time, just bloody enjoy yourself!

Saturday evening in Salento. Wow! What a spectacle. Even for me and I have spent many a night in Halifax. It seems that on weekends, locals from the neighbouring towns come to Salento to let their hair down and put on their dancing shoes. The women, and girls, spray paint on their tightest jeans and seem to get as much breast on show as physically possible. Little beer tents are erected around the main square, music is blasted out, and the Colombians have a ball. And when a song comes on that everybody seems to know, we have mass karaoke. Has to be seen to be believed.

And dinner was quite an experience. I sat down in a local joint and was asked if I wanted the menu. Si, senor, I replied. Trucha o Churrican? The menu consisted of only two items. Well, I knew trucha was trout, so I plumped for the other one, not knowing what it was. Macaroni senor? Hmm, this could be interesting. Si, I replied. Well, what a dish. Takes some describing but it was delicious. Grilled sausages, on a bed of macaroni, with rice, tomotoes, fried potato cake and a grilled banana. I kid you not. You would never put these together but it was tasty and filling. All for $6000 Colombian pesos, which was £2. Bargain!

As the music got louder, and the dancing raunchier, I took the sensible option. Picked up a couple of beers and joi...........had a slow walk home.

Buenos noches amigos.

Iquique - Northern Chile

After 4 days in the Bolivian desert, in accommodation that would struggle to be called basic, and with food that I never want to see the likes of again, I was happy to be heading to my next destination. Iquique on the coast of Northern Chile. A surfside beach town that promised some well needed r&r.

It's funny how you end up in places when you travel. When I left the UK I really did not have a plan. I made a bit of a joke about it, but I literally had the first 6 days planned, all in Buenos Aires. After that I had no idea where I would go and end up. Some of my destinations came from browsing my Lonely Planet, but many, as was the case with Iquique came from chatting to other travellers in the hostels.

I knew of one place in Chile before I came to South America, and that was the capital, Santiago de Chile. However, chatting to travellers is an invaluable resource and through this I discovered the identity of towns in Northern Chile such as San Pedro de Atacama (see previous post) and Iquique. A place that I was looking forward to for weeks whilst on the road. Beach time!



Getting there wasn't very relaxing. I had a 8.30pm night bus for 2 hours and then I needed to wait an hour before changing to a 6 hour overnight bus. I eventually rolled into the bus station at Iquique at the ungodly hour of 5:30am. Tired and grumpy, the taxi driver picked the wrong man to try and rip off that morning. He was all nice and friendly in the cab, jabbering away in Spanish, but on arrival at the hostel he tried to charge me way over the odds for what was a very short cab ride. What followed was a quite heated argument, me in broken Spanish telling him that I wasn't born yesterday, or words to that effect. And that he could sing for his $4000 pesos. Again, I didn't use those exact words but I did babble something in Spanish whilst raising my voice for effect. And I told him that he was getting $3000, no more. I firmly gave him the money, thanked him for his services and went into the hostel, leaving him muttering to himself on the side of the road.



Arriving in a new place at 5:30am is never good but it makes such a difference when you get a friendly welcome as I did at the Hostal La Casona. Granted, it was a welcome all in Spanish but between us we managed to determine that my room wouldn't be ready until much later, but I could have a blanket and sleep in the lounge. An offer I gratefully accepted. La Casona turned out to be a great hostel. A few blocks from an amazing beach. A fantastic supermarket almost on the doorstep. And great areas to sit in the sun and chill with a beer (or 2).



Iquique was the place that I did my parapenting. My first time and what a great experience. Taken high up in the hills surrounding Iquique to the spot where I would take a running jump off a cliff. Thankfully strapped to a chap who did this for a living. As it turned out he had been doing it for 11 years so I was greatly comforted. The experience was amazing as we caught the warm thermals and glided high above the city, climbing higher and higher. The flight lasted about 30 minutes and was so peaceful with amazing views and on the way down we drifted over high rise apartment blocks before softly landing on the beach. Amazing.



My four days in Iquique passed very quickly. Despite it being a small town I never felt that I needed to find something to fill my time with. Sat in a hammock drinking beer, reading my book in the sun, or just munching quality empanadas on the beach, the time I spent there was a real tonic. And just what I needed as I faced into my next challenge. Getting into Peru and negotiating another overland border crossing. Thankfully it would be my last as I am flying from Peru into Bogota due to the massive distance between the two countries.

Bolivia - Salar de Uyuni

Bolivia wasn't a country that I had read much about, let alone planned to visit. However, there is one place in Bolivia that you must not miss whilst in South America, the Salar de Uyuni (Salt Flats of Uyuni), the world's largest salt flats, sitting at 3653m above sea level and covering an area of 12,106sq miles it truly is a sight to behold.

Once I started reading up on this trip and the various companies I wondered how safe it actually was. If I had known then what I learnt through the course of the next 4 days I might have re-assessed the “need” to actually go on this tour. But more of that later. For now, I had a good recommendation of a tour operator from a Canadian friend who had done the trip the week before. Reassuringly, the Bolivian drivers for this company didn't drink at the wheel or fall asleep whilst driving. And yes, I'm being very serious.



So, with a tour company I felt I could trust, and a 4 day tour that started and ended up back in San Pedro de Atacama, Chile, I was all set. An early start saw us filling up two 4x4s with a real mix of nationalities. Aussies, Irish, Norwegian, German, French, Swiss and Dutch. Thankfully, Christophe who was travelling in my 4x4 had just studied Spanish for the last 3 months so became our official translater as the Bolivian drivers do not speak any English.



The first stop was the Bolivian border. As you can see, there is not much too it. Just a cabin with a lone official who is there to check your documentation and give you the all important entry stamp into Bolivia. With that done we were off for the long drive through the Bolivian desert to the first national park. As we ascended higher and higher, a few of us started to feel the effects of the altitude. This is where the famous “Coca” leaf comes in. This is the plant from which cocaine is derived but for all Bolivians it is a natural as drinking a good old cup of tea. You take some of the coca leafs, stick them in the side of your mouth and let the leafs do their stuff. The theory is that as the minute levels of cocaine are extracted, it deadens the effect of altitude sickness. I have to admit, I did feel better but was never really sure whether it was the leafs actually working or whether it was more of a placebo effect.

Over the next 4 days we saw some of the most amazing landscapes, many of it surreal, like something you imagine to be on the surface of the moon. We visited active geysers, many natural lagoons, saw more flamingos than you could shake a stick at and the coup de grace on the first day, a dip in thermal hot springs. I was in two minds whether to strip off and get in, as it was damn chilly in the Bolivian mountains, but how glad am I that I did? It was amazing, so so good. Despite knowing I was at a hot spring, the temperature was a very pleasant surprise. I just wish we had longer than the 25min bathe we had. More fun was had afterward, trying to get dried off and back into our clothes, al fresco, with my silly little travel towel. Try that whilst maintaining your dignity.



The accommodation for the trip was basic to say the least and some of the food left a lot to be desired. Some of the guys on the trip really enjoyed it but a salad on a bed of cold fries was not my idea of good tucker. And have you tried drinking Bolivian wine? A warning. If you like wine and don't want to be mentally scarred, stay away. Stick to the ubiquitous Coke that is served with every Bolivian meal. I was mightily glad to be back in San Pedro at the end of the week, tucking into a juicy hamburger, chips and cold cerveza.

So, what did I learn about the Salt Flat tours through the course of my trip. Well, in the last 2 years at least 18 tourists have been killed in accidents directly attributable to bad driving, drunken drivers and a blatant disregard for safety. A very sobering moment awaited us as we finally reached the Salt Flats. A memorial to 12 tourists, and their drivers who died in 2008 when the two 4x4s they were travelling in collided head on, exploded and everyone burned to death.

Considering that the Salt Flats are so huge, and so flat, the mind boggles as to not only how could two jeeps crash into each other, but what speeds must the drivers have been going to cause the deaths of everybody in both jeeps. It's frightening.

That was why I was glad to have discovered this at the end of the trip, and was glad to be back safe and sound. I for one will continue to sing the praises of my tour company, Estrella del Sur, for their good, sober, very friendly drivers.

San Pedro de Atacama

Another early start saw me on the 7:00am Pullman bus service from Salta to San Pedro de Atacama, across the border in Chile. I hadn't originally planned to visit San Pedro. Truth be known, I had never even heard of the place. However, after speaking to various travellers in the weeks I have been away I decided that San Pedro was the best option for me to visit the Salt Flats (Salar de Uyuni) in Bolivia. That was, I got to see this amazing landscape, but ended up back in San Pedro rather than Uyuni. And now, after visiting Uyuni, boy did I make the right decision.



The journey from Salta was 11 hours, which was surprisingly painless. It was the 2 hour wait at the border in Chile that did me in. A long day sat on the bus and literally 10 minutes walk from the central plaza in San Pedro we had to wait to clear the customs formalities. Hot, dusty and painfully slow. This would test the patience of a saint, something I have never claimed to be.

Finally I recovered my bag and walked the short distance into town, looking for my hostel. As San Pedro is small, and only has a few main streets, this didn't prove to be too difficult. What concerned me more was that the warnings in the Lonely Planet about the ATMs in town being very unreliable proved to be true. I had a grand total of $4000 (approx £5) Chilean pesos leftover from my earlier visit to Chile. This clearly wasn't going to get me very far. And to make matters even worse, after visiting all 4 ATMs in the town, I still had no money. Apparently they were all empty until the morning. Whoever maintains those ATM networks needs to find alternative employment.



So there I was, tired, grumpy AND skint. Maybe a lie down was what I needed. That's when I saw the vertiginous 3 level bunk beds! My god! There were 2 bunks left in the dorm. The one at the very top and the one in the middle. I was asked which one I wanted. Really? You need to ask? I flopped on the middle bunk feeling very sorry for myself and wondered whose idea was this trip. Oh yeah, that would have been mine. Maybe a shower would help my mood. Well, I better make it quick. San Pedro is one of the driest deserts in the world and the showers in the hostel were only available through the day, and you had to adhere to the hand written sign on the shower door, "3 minute showers only!". Later that night, I took my $4000 pesos and had coffee with cherry pie for dinner. And I can't tell you how happy it made me. After such a long, tiring, trying day, a little thing as a piece of pie but a big smile on my face.

The next day, after a very good sleep, everything in the world was good again. I was told at the bank that there would be money after 12pm, and there was. I think the security guard was a little concerned by my little jig of delight as my pesos came out of the machine. I could eat. And more importantly, I could pay for my Salt Flats tour, the reason I came to San Pedro in the first place. Trip secured, and money in my pocket, I went to explore San Pedro.





My guidebook, albeit a year old, states that the population of San Pedro (altitude 2440m) is 3200. From what I have seen today, most of those appear to be tourists. There were more tour and travel agencies than I have seen in a very long time all vying for the tourist peso. The biggest draw seemed to be the Salt Flats but there were also sandboarding, trips to the Valley of the Moon and very early geyser visits. If all this tires you out there are numerous eating and drinking places in town, ranging from little take away joints, to plush restaurants and everything in between.

For me? I was going back for some more of that cherry pie and fabulous coffee.

Cordoba, Argentina

Now, if anybody is paying close attention, or is even reading these blogs, you may notice an anomally with today's posting. A careful look at the map of Argentina clearly shows that Cordoba is before Salta, if heading north. Yet my Salta blog was last week. Yeah, yeah I know, just bear with me. I don't even know what day it is sometimes, let alone remember what town I'm in.

So, let's deal with Cordoba. A city I was highly anticipating due to the fact that it is a colonial town that has preserved many of it's buildings from that period.

The trip from Mendoza once again took myself and Grace through Andes and another brush with the border control. Although these are fairly painless, it always takes longer than it should and seems so inefficient. The process definitely needs a LEAN or Six Sigma approach applying.

The journey from Valparaiso entailed a 10 hour bus journey to Mendoza, a 6 hour wait in Mendoza, then an 11 hour overnight bus to Cordoba. Those buildings better be bloody breathtaking to make all this worthwhile. And the abiding memory of the journey? The obese, badly dressed, builder's arse showing bloke on the seat opposite, snoring like a trooper. It got so bad at one point Grace actually shook him, woke him up and shouted at him. The look of surprise on his face! Priceless. With his shirt riding over his ample stomach, and the bouncing of the bus, we had a constant “truffle shuffle” to keep us entertained.

We arrived at 8am and got a cab to Palenque Hostel, which turned out be a very friendly hostel, just indicative of most city hostels in that there were not many places to chill with a book or a beer. The favourite activity of most of the backpackers there seemed to be to watch telly, loudly, from 9am in the morning. Honestly, kids, there is a whole wide world out there! And yes, despite claiming in previous blogs that I was finished with dorms, in Cordoba I shared a 6 bed dorm with 5 attractive Dutch girls. Worse ways to spend 3 days. I suppose!!



Cordoba did in fact turn out to be a good example of an old colonial town, with well preserved buildings and churches scattered around the centre. That said, the development in the town, not all good, overshadows some of the amazing architecture. The main square, Plaza San Martin, is surrounded by shops and cafes with the biggest, ugliest billboards you will see. Hardly an aesthetic contrast to the Igelisa Catedral, begun in 1577 and crowned with a Romanesque dome.

Day 2 in Cordoba we decided to head into the hills, to Alta Gracia, 35kms from Cordoba. A colonial mountain town and home to an adolescent Ernesto “Che” Guevara in the 1930's. His home from that time, Villa Beatriz now houses the excellent Museo Casa Ernest “Che” Guevara. The museum documented his trips around Argentina and South America, the most famous being the one that made it onto the big screen as “The Motorcycle Diaries”. It also showcased many photos from his childhood and, from later years, copies of very moving letters that he sent to his children whilst he was overseas, mostly in Cuba, freedom fighting.





Also in Alta Gracia we visited the Iglesia Parroquial Nuestra Senora de la Merced, built by the Jesuits between 1643 and 1762. Amazing to walk amongst the various buildings, imagining people all those years ago walking the same path.



In all, we had a very good 3 days in Cordoba but I was looking forward to heading off, on the road again, in search of something that captures my imagination just a little bit more.

And it was the end of the travel road for myself and Grace. End of a very enjoyable two weeks. A two weeks in which we had established a familiar drinking routine, both of us enjoying a drink. We would have the litre before dinner, as a “sharpener”, have dinner, then have more beer, to see out the evening. Who will I say “salut”, or “un ronda mas?” with now Graciela?

Oh well, such is the traveller's life, always transient. We said our farewells as I got into a cab for my overnight bus to Salta, whereas Grace was headed back to Buenos Aires and a flight back to Holland. Not all sad for Grace though, three days at home and she was heading back on a plane for a holiday in Cuba. Thats the life!

For me, well you know what I did. If you read my previous post that is. I went to Salta! Next time, I hope to have my blog posts in order, so we should be reading about San Pedro de Atacama, one of the driest deserts in the world.

Chao chicas!

Salta, northern Argentina

For those of you that follow both my pictures and blogs on Facebook, apologies. I have been very remiss in the posting of blogs and now they are a few weeks behind. Today's blog concentrates on my visit to Salta.

I reached Salta, northern Argentina, after another painless, dare I say enjoyable, overnight bus ride from Cordoba. I rocked into the Terminal de Autobuses at 8:30am, jumped in a cab and within a few minutes I was at the Hostel Las Heras. Despite being too early to check in, I got a friendly welcome and was able to store my bags whilst I went off, new map in hand, to find somewhere for strong coffee and breakfast (desayuno). My immediate impressions, confirmed over the next couple of days, were that I was going to enjoy my stay there. A great homely feel to the place, good outside seating options and only a couple of blocks from the main plaza.

Salta turned out to be one of my favourite places in Argentina. A city but with a small town feeling. Beautiful, large plazas. Great restaurants and cafés. An amazing cathedral and the most ornate church I have ever seen, the Iglesias San Francisco (church of Saint Francis).





And very friendly locals. Not to mention a fantastic museum. Now, I must admit, culturally I have been a bit bereft on this trip. I tend to think that once you have seen a museum, you have seen them all. However, that was before I went to the Museo de Arqueologia de Alta Montana (www.maam.org.ar). A museum dedicated to the finding in the 90's of 3 perfectly preserved Inca children mummies. It was unreal. During an archeology expedition in the Andes around Salta, these mummies and their burial site was stumbled upon. It turns out that the Incas believed that if they sacrificed the children, buried them alive with Inca treasures, then no harm would befall their Inca tribe. And these 3 unfortunate children were the ones sacrificed. The 6 year old girl was in a display cabinet, a bit eerie, and was preserved down to the last detail, including her teeth that were baked into a grimace. Fascinating to witness, but I have to admit, I needed a beer after.

Also in Salta is the Cerro San Bernardo. A hill that gives awesome views all over Salta. For my first visit I decided to walk the 1070 steps to the top. Wow, was that a good idea? I was pissed through in sweat by the time I reached the top. The views made it all worth while. I even walked back down after but made a return visit the next day, this time on the chairlift, Complejo Telefrico Salta, for $25AR. A much more relaxing day, but equally enjoyable.





On my last night in Salta I had planned to have no booze and an early night as I had a 7:00am bus to San Pedro de Atacama the next day. Now as this was an 11 hour bus ride I thought a good nights sleep was the perfect preparation. However. This was before I discovered that there was an asado planned for that night in the hostel. And being the sociable sort, I thought I would join them. And what an asado! Beautiful steak, as much as you wanted. Chorizo sausage and heaps of fresh salad, all washed down with carafes of regional wines. And there was a great bunch having the asado. A couple from Dublin, a couple from the Yukon in Canada (near Alaska apparently, where they regularly contend with -40 degree temperatures) and a couple from Denmark, together with a couple of locals who worked at the hostel.

As I left the hostel to walk to the bus station, in the dark at 6am the following morning, I just wished, just a little bit, that I had a soupcon less wine. Oh well, life is for living.

Until the next time chicas.

Valparaiso - Chile

Valparaiso, commonly known as Valpo, is a UNESCO heritage city a couple of hours from Santiago. A port town that is famous for its hills and the old school funiculars that are there to transport you up the said hills.

Myself and Grace had got the early afternoon bus to Valpo and headed for our accommodation, Casa Valparaiso. This was a hostel in an old house and we were staying in a 7 bed dorm. Rather unusual for dorms as you more commonly get either 4 or 6 beds (bunks) but for some reason we had an additional single bed in the room. This was very friendly hostel albeit a bit ramshackle and rough around the edges. Great views from the bedroom window though.



Without further ado we went off to investigate Valpo and started with lunch. We plonked ourselves down in a great old style cafe that we later discovered is one of the cafe gems of Valpo, Bar Cinzano. Old school waiters, a fabulous long bar and a menu of traditional Chilean meals and drinks. I ordered grilled chicken with rice and also ordered my first “pisco sour”. I didn't know what it was either, other than it is the national drink of Chile. And when it arrived it looked a little odd, but let me tell you, it tasted sublime. Absolutely gorgeous. A mix of pisco (some strong liquer type drink), fresh lime juice and sugar. If they weren't so strong I could have sat there and drank them all day. I'm glad I didn't though as they might have ended up all over the little boat that we got on later to sail around the harbour.




The boat trip was nothing too exciting but was a good way to spend a bit of time in the sun and on the water. By the port you can jump in a little “collectivo”, a small boat, along with about 30 other people, and for $2000 pesos (less than £3) can sail around the harbour. The trip only lasted about 30 mins and I didn't understand a bloody word of what the guide was saying, but it was great just to sit in the boat, soak up the sun, and see Valpo from a very different perspective.



In the evening we met up with George and Mildred (Richard and Alison) and went out for pizza to Allegretto. This is run by the same Englishman that runs the B&B that they are staying in. And what a treat the pizzas turned out to be. Truly authentic, thin crust pizzas, just like they come in Napoli. Mamma mia!

The next day we took ourselves off on the bus, along with another traveller, Anna from Germany, to Casablanca, a very important wine region of Chile. We had a fantastic day visiting 3 wineries and having a tasting at each. The weather was glorious, the wines delectable. Oh what a day. In the evening we took advantage of the BBQ at the B&B and made ourselves steaks to go with the wine purchased from the wineries.




Day 3 was spent at the beach in Vina del Mar, a short train ride from the city. Again we were blessed with beautiful sunshine and we secured loungers on the beach and just whiled away the hours, sunbathing, reading, eating, drinking and listening to music being played by buskers on the beach. I could get used to this life :-) As Alison asked Richard if he had had a good day, I once again heard the, by now, very familiar refrain of “yes dear”.

I really enjoyed Valparaiso, more so than I even expected. Truth be told I could have quite happily extended my stay there. However, the road was calling and early on Friday morning we were in a taxi to the bus station for the long slog to Cordoba. Back through the Andes, through border control and to Mendoza (8 hours). Then a 6 hour wait in Mendoza before we boarded the bus for Cordoba which would be a journey of approx 10 hours.

Oh, the life of a traveller.