The final stop in Bolivia was Copacabana and the Isla del Sol, which are quite literally on the border with Peru. We arrived in a truck with a driver and his family, having had to hitch a lift with the help of some army officers when all the minivans heading from Huarina to Copacabana were mercilessly crowded. The crossing across Lake Titicaca occurs at a place called Tiquina- a very narrow part where everything- buses, lorries, and yes, the truck we were sitting in- is ferried across by ramshackle-looking flotillas. It was bizarre to sit in a truck with a view of water through all wide windows and feeling the gentle motion of the waves beneath!
Copacabana is small, brightly coloured and beautiful in the sun, with deckchairs and swan boats lining the water front- the perfect place to chill in the sun with a cold beer. We spent a relaxing afternoon after the hectic hitching, and then went on over to the promisingly-named Isla del Sol (Island of the Sun). First we clambered up the four flights of Inca steps past an Inca fountain- very hard work at the altitude, let alone with rucksacks like some crazy people were doing! All drinking water on the island has to be ferried across and then moved by donkies, so is very expensive, and although the water from the fountain is not drinkable, it is still sacred. We had time before sunset to do a hike to the southern tip of the island; the view of the calm lake in the sunshine and the majestic Andes behind was beautiful but it was the complete silence and stillness of the place that had the largest impact. That night we feasted on the local speciality- rainbow trout or ´trucha´- with the standard load of double carbs- heaps of rice and chips.
The crossing into Peru was very odd; it was only five minutes into our bus journey that we were all told to get out and get our passports stamped at a hut-like building, then walk across the actual border through a dimly lit archway and get stamped at another hut. Another passport stamp! Although Peru is by far the most boring looking stamp (Uruguay probably the best- with a bird and a sun in an oval shape).
First of all, we visited the famous Machu Picchu site, and no it did not disappoint even in the slightest. Bee and I being the tired and broken travellers that we are (ahem..lazy) we got a train and a bus up to the top of the hill, especially since we hadn´t booked six months in advance, so we cannot claim the glory of having completed the Inca Trail! But perhaps we appreciated it all the more since our eyes were not fogged with fatigue? It was quite a grey day- at one point it rained for an hour- but it was all the more atmospheric with the smell of wet grass and seeing the mist clinging to the huge grey Inca blocks of the ruins. It was very strange to imagine people living in the empty stone spaces and walking up and down the perilous stone steps- our guidebook said that very little is known about Machu Picchu- a lost city but whether it was abandoned before or after the Spanish invasion is unclear. Some of the stonework looked like it could have been cut with modern tools it was so precisely straight- and the fact that the site has stayed in such good condition for over 500 years without cement shows how good the stonemasonry really is! Later that evening we visited some hot springs, watching the sun set behind the silhouettes of mountains and smell of sulphur hanging in the air...Meals-wise things are definitely looking up: juicy grilled alpaca steak, and ´ceviche´- raw fish marinated in lemon, coriander, chilli and onions- delicious! And of course, pisco sours- a frothy white cocktail with a hint of cinnamon.
Next stop was Cusco, a big and beautiful city with as many cathedrals, churches and plazas as streets! We went on a really interesting walking tour of the city, learning a thing or two of interest:
-the cocoa bean is sacred, often given in offering with coca leaves and alcohol to the gods, including Pachamama (mother earth)
-jumping in the fountain in the main plaza will earn you three nights in jail
-some Chileans defaced an ancient and famous 12-sided Inca stone cut in the side of a 500 year old wall (plenty more of the incredible Inca stonework like at Machu Picchu), but did not get reprimanded owing to politics...but now nobody can even touch said stone block!
-anybody can buy a driver´s licence for 300 soles (exchange rate about 1 pound to 4.25 soles) consequently there are plenty of cameras around to catch the craziest and dodgiest of drivers
-teachers were striking at the time of our visit for higher wages- average monthly wage is about 650 soles
We bought tickets for bungee jumping at South America´s highest jump! But when we arrived the place was apparently shut because of the national May 1st holiday- biggest disappointment possible! Next time...
We then headed to Arequipa, on an incredible overnight cama bus: food! Blankets! Free headphones! The city is nestled in the shadow of three huge volcanoes, all of them about 6000m above sea level. It has lots of muted grey volcanic rock buildings, with beautiful carvings and frescoes- reminding me a lot of Sucre but without the flashy white brilliance. Both Bee and I have caught a virus so do not attempt to hike any volcanoes this time around! We went with a friend to see his friend to meet up with his friends who were practicing gymnasts- great to see them flipping and somersaulting in the park as if it was no big deal- and then had so much fun being hoisted into the air too when they stood me on their hands and also helped me into backflips!
We shelled out on a museum visit to see ´Juanita, the Ice Princess´, a girl of about 12 who had been sacrificed on top of the highest volcano- Ampato- to appease the gods about 550 years ago. For the Incas the mountains were where the gods lived, so any eruptions etc. meant that they needed to be appeased, in the form of child sacrifice. The children were chosen from birth, to be kept innocent, beautiful and unblemished, and it was a great honour for them and for their families, as to die in sacrifice would mean rebirth in the realm of the gods. All sacrifices found on the volcano (5 in total) were buried with miniatures and replicas necessary for the next life, including their umbilical cord, necessary for their rebirth. Seeing Juanita was surreal- she is 1m40 and weighs 35kg, and is so well preserved that her hair still looks shiny and combed, and her teeth are perfect white squares showing behind the shrunken lips- slightly unnerving but at the same time incredible that she has remained in this state, frozen, for so many years.
The final stop on our incredible tour around South America was Huacachina, a few minutes drive outside Ica. It is a surprising little village- about 100 permanent inhabitants- with only a handful of buildings around a beautiful lake, surrounded by huge rolling sand dunes. It seems to be perpetually sunny- strange to be back in fierce heat again, after so long bundled up in jumpers and jeans- nice to b able to get a tan back again before heading home! The moment we arrived we booked a dune-buggy tour- it was so much fun to bump about in a yellow cage (strapped in tight, don´t worry) tossed about with the majestic hills of sand all around. We made a few stops for sandboarding too- all the males of course trying to go down these ridiculously steep hills standing up and of course failing miserably, whilst the rest of us zoomed down on our stomachs- not without the pain of sand burns and a few bumps and scratches- health and safety is a very distant idea here! Then on to a tour of the oldest winery in Ica- hundreds of huge urns filled with wine and pisco fermenting- the wine tasting very sweet and the pisco tasting absolutely foul. The pisco is all made by hand there, and apparently many of the workers develop alcoholism and die young from having to taste the pisco every day to test it- a very sobering thought. Finally a last night out, dancing the night away- even after all this time I will never get used to dancing with men actually able to dance, nor my embarrassing inability to salsa!
Tomorrow we will head, bright and early, for the big bustling city of Lima, for a celebratory farewell south american meal (guinea pig perhaps?) and the final plane home....
Saturday, 5 May 2012
Tuesday, 1 May 2012
Bolivia
So having headed back to Argentina, to Mendoza on a beautifully long bus ride, we arrived on Easter weekend with no hostel booked. Clever, I know. After desperately walking about for about an hour we finally found room at a hostel, paying an extortionate price for one bed and one mattress on the floor, but beggars can't be choosers! Bee arrived back fresh from the snow in Canada, exhausted from such a long flight with various stopovers, but all very happy to be reunited. To celebrate Easter Sunday, Elle and I went to the local church for morning service (which was surprisingly empty for a country supposedly 80% catholic) then had an egg hunt with some friends- some hidden 'hilariously' in the pool....oh the waste of chocolate!
We just had time to cycle around some vineyards and taste some of the famous Argentinian wines, and have an all-important last steak before an emotional final farewell to Elle on her bus back to Buenos Aires in time for her flight home. Back to the orginial twosome!
With heavy hearts we left Argentina and somehow caught a bus all the way to the border with Bolivia, La Quiaca. The border was little more than a hut and a man with a stamp- easy to see how so much can be smuggled across- not that we got any ideas of course. It was interesting to see how the facial features of people changed so dramatically with broader cheek bones, darker skin, squarer jaws and oval eyes. Also the sight of women in multiple pleated colourful skirts, with beautiful embroidered blouses, two long thick black plaits down their backs, all topped off with a bowler hat! We stopped over in Tupiza for a night, a place famed for its red rock views and horseriding, feeling very much like something out of an old western film. Continuing on to Uyuni, we were ready for our Salt Flats tour.
It is impossible to describe in words the landscapes we saw on the three day tour, they simply could never do them justice. We saw miles of blinding white flat salt fields, lagoons filled with flamingos, baked red rock, craggy mountains and volcanoes, geysers, hot springs, and delicate flakes of snow at 4000m. It was absoutely breathtaking!
Arriving back to Uyuni that afternoon, we hopped straight on a bus to Sucre, arriving at 4am and sleeping on lovely comfortable plastic seats. Proactive as ever, we headed straight to the market in the hilltop village of Tarabuco- stunning scenery on the 2 hour bus ride there with low-lying clouds and green hills. There was an abundance of bolivian textiles and handmade goods- llama jumpers, armadillo-backed guitars, cocoa leaves (very important here) and piles of fruit and vegetables- considering that Bolivia has over 5000 different varieties of potato, you can imagine the colour and variety of the market! Sucre itself has some of the most beautiful architecture we have seen, with white colonial buildings everywhere that are absolutely dazzling in the sun- great sketching opportunities too. The cemetery was also beautiful, not on the scale of the Recoleta cemetery in Buenos Aires and definitely not as imposing, but it had rows and rows of white walls with windows filled with flowers which are changed regularly- large tubs of wilting flowers and petals where everywhere, giving a lovely perfume to the air.
Next stop was Cochabamba- itself quite a busy bustling grimy city- but has the largest most extensive market we had ever seen! We got lost in the meat section alone for about an hour, surrounded by large sections of skin hanging up, sheep heads, tongues, feet and lumps of steak with flies buzzing and the smell of flesh hanging heavily in the air. Only here would you find rows and rows of shoes for sale right next to the meat, or mattresses and cupboards next to enormous papayas and apples and juice bars side by side with television sets. Unsurprisingly we did get caught up in the heady commercial buzz of the market, investing in some DVDs, shoes, jewellery and some jumpers for the cold weather (apparently lots of the american clothes for sale here have been donated for people in need, but are brought over to Bolivia and then promptly bought wholesale and resold in the markets).
We spent the next few days in La Paz, another crowded metropolis with crazy nightlife, having met up again with some friends from Sucre. The Witches Market after the market in Cochabamba was much less impressive and seemed very stagey for the tourists- although we will never get used to the sight of llama foetuses hanging up everywhere! Foodwise we have been feasting on plenty of empanadas (or techincally 'saltenas' for the savoury fillings) and had our fair share of llama steaks and alpaca steaks- deciding that of the two, alpaca is much juicier and flavoursome. We actually saw one woman on a bus carrying a baby llama on her back in a colourful manta as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world! Felt a slight stab of guilt when tucking in to the next steak we had....
After the business and non-stop rush of La Paz, we retreated to the northern side of Lake Titicaca, to Sorata, a small village perched on the side of a valley among the mountains, reached in a few hours in a cramped little minivan, with our huge packs strapped precariously to the top. Sorata has probably one of the most beautiful landscapes we have ever seen, with a river cutting through the middle of enormous hills on either side, lush with jungle. We set off on a hike without any proper directions, and found a mountain trail in the undergrowth, climbing high up and winding along by the river, finding some caves on the way. The scenery was absolutely stunning, so despite a slightly scary wade in the river, having to scramble on all fours up a side-stream to get out of the very strong current, climbing up the wrong side of the valley only to be rescued by a Bolivian heading to Sorata himself who took us all the way back down and back up again, it was so much fun- especially feeling like intrepid explorers. We earned ourselves a good hearty meal- chicken soup and then a huge bowl of rice, potatoes, vegetables and chicken- and all this for 10 bolivianos, about 90p!
We just had time to cycle around some vineyards and taste some of the famous Argentinian wines, and have an all-important last steak before an emotional final farewell to Elle on her bus back to Buenos Aires in time for her flight home. Back to the orginial twosome!
With heavy hearts we left Argentina and somehow caught a bus all the way to the border with Bolivia, La Quiaca. The border was little more than a hut and a man with a stamp- easy to see how so much can be smuggled across- not that we got any ideas of course. It was interesting to see how the facial features of people changed so dramatically with broader cheek bones, darker skin, squarer jaws and oval eyes. Also the sight of women in multiple pleated colourful skirts, with beautiful embroidered blouses, two long thick black plaits down their backs, all topped off with a bowler hat! We stopped over in Tupiza for a night, a place famed for its red rock views and horseriding, feeling very much like something out of an old western film. Continuing on to Uyuni, we were ready for our Salt Flats tour.
It is impossible to describe in words the landscapes we saw on the three day tour, they simply could never do them justice. We saw miles of blinding white flat salt fields, lagoons filled with flamingos, baked red rock, craggy mountains and volcanoes, geysers, hot springs, and delicate flakes of snow at 4000m. It was absoutely breathtaking!
Arriving back to Uyuni that afternoon, we hopped straight on a bus to Sucre, arriving at 4am and sleeping on lovely comfortable plastic seats. Proactive as ever, we headed straight to the market in the hilltop village of Tarabuco- stunning scenery on the 2 hour bus ride there with low-lying clouds and green hills. There was an abundance of bolivian textiles and handmade goods- llama jumpers, armadillo-backed guitars, cocoa leaves (very important here) and piles of fruit and vegetables- considering that Bolivia has over 5000 different varieties of potato, you can imagine the colour and variety of the market! Sucre itself has some of the most beautiful architecture we have seen, with white colonial buildings everywhere that are absolutely dazzling in the sun- great sketching opportunities too. The cemetery was also beautiful, not on the scale of the Recoleta cemetery in Buenos Aires and definitely not as imposing, but it had rows and rows of white walls with windows filled with flowers which are changed regularly- large tubs of wilting flowers and petals where everywhere, giving a lovely perfume to the air.
Next stop was Cochabamba- itself quite a busy bustling grimy city- but has the largest most extensive market we had ever seen! We got lost in the meat section alone for about an hour, surrounded by large sections of skin hanging up, sheep heads, tongues, feet and lumps of steak with flies buzzing and the smell of flesh hanging heavily in the air. Only here would you find rows and rows of shoes for sale right next to the meat, or mattresses and cupboards next to enormous papayas and apples and juice bars side by side with television sets. Unsurprisingly we did get caught up in the heady commercial buzz of the market, investing in some DVDs, shoes, jewellery and some jumpers for the cold weather (apparently lots of the american clothes for sale here have been donated for people in need, but are brought over to Bolivia and then promptly bought wholesale and resold in the markets).
We spent the next few days in La Paz, another crowded metropolis with crazy nightlife, having met up again with some friends from Sucre. The Witches Market after the market in Cochabamba was much less impressive and seemed very stagey for the tourists- although we will never get used to the sight of llama foetuses hanging up everywhere! Foodwise we have been feasting on plenty of empanadas (or techincally 'saltenas' for the savoury fillings) and had our fair share of llama steaks and alpaca steaks- deciding that of the two, alpaca is much juicier and flavoursome. We actually saw one woman on a bus carrying a baby llama on her back in a colourful manta as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world! Felt a slight stab of guilt when tucking in to the next steak we had....
After the business and non-stop rush of La Paz, we retreated to the northern side of Lake Titicaca, to Sorata, a small village perched on the side of a valley among the mountains, reached in a few hours in a cramped little minivan, with our huge packs strapped precariously to the top. Sorata has probably one of the most beautiful landscapes we have ever seen, with a river cutting through the middle of enormous hills on either side, lush with jungle. We set off on a hike without any proper directions, and found a mountain trail in the undergrowth, climbing high up and winding along by the river, finding some caves on the way. The scenery was absolutely stunning, so despite a slightly scary wade in the river, having to scramble on all fours up a side-stream to get out of the very strong current, climbing up the wrong side of the valley only to be rescued by a Bolivian heading to Sorata himself who took us all the way back down and back up again, it was so much fun- especially feeling like intrepid explorers. We earned ourselves a good hearty meal- chicken soup and then a huge bowl of rice, potatoes, vegetables and chicken- and all this for 10 bolivianos, about 90p!
Tuesday, 17 April 2012
A Bit Chilly in Chile
One of the best parts of travelling is the interaction with other travellers, meeting so many different people with different experiences from all over the world! Aside from the countries we have been in, we have met people from Canada, Sweden, Iceland, Germany, Australia, Denmark, Portugal, Holland, Spain, France, Switzerland, Poland, Belgium, Norway, New Zealand and plenty of Americans and Israelis (who seem to travel in groups of no less that 20 after having finished their military service).
The other great thing about meeting all of these people is their advice and tips for places to go or stay- that's why we popped into Uruguay, and in the same way, Elle and I found ourselves in Pucon, Chile. We had been told about the active volcano there called Villaricca, with a floating glacier, meaning it is possible to slide down parts of it on ice slides! Needless to say, we had to investigate.
Getting up at 5am was bad enough, but nothing compared to the treacherous steep path, with a constant fear of falling- and that was even before we had to start using crampons and ice picks on the glacier. Apparently two people had died just the week before on the hike- not something you want to hear when you are half-way up and not completely confident about completing the other half. After about 4 or 5 hours of the hike, we reached the top and felt absolutely EUPHORIC! The panoramic views were insane- stunning scenery all around (the only negative being toxic sulphur fumes issuing from the huge crater, made it hard to enjoy lunch!) The way down is always worse than the way up, having reached the goal of the summit, the pain starts to increase and exhaustion sets in....
At least there were ice slides then! There were only three of them, due to high temperatures etc, but even so, we slid about a kilometre down the side of the volcano. It was obviously great fun; we were instructed not to go too fast by using our ice picks as brakes- many people accidentally impaling themselves on them at the sudden stops- and we used protective mats which clipped round our legs to slide down on (although one of our group somehow managed to completely shred his, clearly wasn't using his ice pick enough!) Eventually made it to the base, coated in dust, breathing dust, swallowing dust- lots kicked up on the steep descent downwards, in parts you slip and slide down the slope with great plumes billowing behind- not the best fun if you are at the back fo the group. Elle was almost spritely when we got back to the hostel, although I don't think either of us managed to walk without pain for a good week afterwards. My boots clearly didn't fit well because the excruciating pain in my feet turned out to be my big toenails detaching from the nail bed- the left one coming off completely a few days later- one of the most disgusting things I've ever seen! It was a comfort to meet another woman a few days later who said the same had happened to her too. Even after all the pain, it was definitely worth it- how many people can say they climbed an active volcano and slid down it too?
The next few days were spent further north, in Valparaiso, a quirky bohemian port town with plenty of street art and winding streets with steep steps (slow progress on the battered legs!) We spent the day trying to take increasingly arty photos- my favourite building was one painted in the style of Mondrian- and the next day at Vina del Mar, a short bus ride away, relaxing on the beach and soaking up the sun rays (an acitivity we thought we had long since lost back in Brazil- so so nice to be back on sand!) Then it was time to move onwards, back into Argentina to Mendoza and meet Bee flying back from Canada....
The other great thing about meeting all of these people is their advice and tips for places to go or stay- that's why we popped into Uruguay, and in the same way, Elle and I found ourselves in Pucon, Chile. We had been told about the active volcano there called Villaricca, with a floating glacier, meaning it is possible to slide down parts of it on ice slides! Needless to say, we had to investigate.
Getting up at 5am was bad enough, but nothing compared to the treacherous steep path, with a constant fear of falling- and that was even before we had to start using crampons and ice picks on the glacier. Apparently two people had died just the week before on the hike- not something you want to hear when you are half-way up and not completely confident about completing the other half. After about 4 or 5 hours of the hike, we reached the top and felt absolutely EUPHORIC! The panoramic views were insane- stunning scenery all around (the only negative being toxic sulphur fumes issuing from the huge crater, made it hard to enjoy lunch!) The way down is always worse than the way up, having reached the goal of the summit, the pain starts to increase and exhaustion sets in....
At least there were ice slides then! There were only three of them, due to high temperatures etc, but even so, we slid about a kilometre down the side of the volcano. It was obviously great fun; we were instructed not to go too fast by using our ice picks as brakes- many people accidentally impaling themselves on them at the sudden stops- and we used protective mats which clipped round our legs to slide down on (although one of our group somehow managed to completely shred his, clearly wasn't using his ice pick enough!) Eventually made it to the base, coated in dust, breathing dust, swallowing dust- lots kicked up on the steep descent downwards, in parts you slip and slide down the slope with great plumes billowing behind- not the best fun if you are at the back fo the group. Elle was almost spritely when we got back to the hostel, although I don't think either of us managed to walk without pain for a good week afterwards. My boots clearly didn't fit well because the excruciating pain in my feet turned out to be my big toenails detaching from the nail bed- the left one coming off completely a few days later- one of the most disgusting things I've ever seen! It was a comfort to meet another woman a few days later who said the same had happened to her too. Even after all the pain, it was definitely worth it- how many people can say they climbed an active volcano and slid down it too?
The next few days were spent further north, in Valparaiso, a quirky bohemian port town with plenty of street art and winding streets with steep steps (slow progress on the battered legs!) We spent the day trying to take increasingly arty photos- my favourite building was one painted in the style of Mondrian- and the next day at Vina del Mar, a short bus ride away, relaxing on the beach and soaking up the sun rays (an acitivity we thought we had long since lost back in Brazil- so so nice to be back on sand!) Then it was time to move onwards, back into Argentina to Mendoza and meet Bee flying back from Canada....
Birthday in Bariloche
Depleted to just two members (Bee having flown off to see her family in Canada for skiing), Elle and I took a lovely long bus ride down south to Bariloche. I say 'lovely long' because Argentinian buses are out of this world- tea, coffee, meals, films, music, blankets etc etc- and all this on just the most basic 'semi-cama' seats. On the Royal Cama Suites services there is champagne and whisky before bed, where the seats go fully horizontal and another part flips up to make an actual bed...so with all this luxury, you end up not wanting to get off at the final destination! This particular bus ride was about 20 hours (nowhere near long enough) down into Patagonia.
Our first thoughts on arrival in Bariloche was its resemblance to Switzerland- not only in the snow-capped mountains surrounding a curved lake (leading to the most incredible panoramic photos of sunset and sunrise with all the reflections and silhouettes)- but also in the alpine-lodge-like buildings, the numerous chocolate shops, ski shops and fleeces on display (felt a little out of place still in flip-flops with everyone else bundled up in thermals- clearly the coldness was a state of mind).
I celebrated my 19th birthday with some exhilirating white water rafting; we felt incredibly intrepid even when informed that the course was only a level 3 and the hardest level is a 5. Either way it was great fun- at one point we jumped out and floated feet first down the rapid- hard to breath with the coldness of the water and each surge of water coming milliseconds after the previous. Returning that evening, exhausted, probably resembling to some extent drowned rats, we indulged in dinner at a nice restaurant, which turned out to be owned by the brother of the Argentinian princess!
So, delicious food, good wine, complimentary champagne- what was our favourite part of the meal? The salad for starter. Our diets have become really terrible- too many carbs and not enough fresh fruit or vegetables (if any). On the plus side we now know that cooking with rice and pasta has limitless potential- plain, butter, salt, chicken stock, vegetable stock, noodle soups, garlic and oil......and all this generally free by taking full advantage of hostel kitchens (if you can withstand the horror of the other travellers!) It can get rather intimidating when somebody next to you is cooking an incredible stir-fry whilst you stir your rice cooked in chicken stock and optimistically call it 'risotto'....
Our first thoughts on arrival in Bariloche was its resemblance to Switzerland- not only in the snow-capped mountains surrounding a curved lake (leading to the most incredible panoramic photos of sunset and sunrise with all the reflections and silhouettes)- but also in the alpine-lodge-like buildings, the numerous chocolate shops, ski shops and fleeces on display (felt a little out of place still in flip-flops with everyone else bundled up in thermals- clearly the coldness was a state of mind).
I celebrated my 19th birthday with some exhilirating white water rafting; we felt incredibly intrepid even when informed that the course was only a level 3 and the hardest level is a 5. Either way it was great fun- at one point we jumped out and floated feet first down the rapid- hard to breath with the coldness of the water and each surge of water coming milliseconds after the previous. Returning that evening, exhausted, probably resembling to some extent drowned rats, we indulged in dinner at a nice restaurant, which turned out to be owned by the brother of the Argentinian princess!
So, delicious food, good wine, complimentary champagne- what was our favourite part of the meal? The salad for starter. Our diets have become really terrible- too many carbs and not enough fresh fruit or vegetables (if any). On the plus side we now know that cooking with rice and pasta has limitless potential- plain, butter, salt, chicken stock, vegetable stock, noodle soups, garlic and oil......and all this generally free by taking full advantage of hostel kitchens (if you can withstand the horror of the other travellers!) It can get rather intimidating when somebody next to you is cooking an incredible stir-fry whilst you stir your rice cooked in chicken stock and optimistically call it 'risotto'....
Sunday, 15 April 2012
The Big BA
It was incredibly disorientating to arrive in such a HUGE city after a small sandy village! Our stay kicked off with St Patrick´s Day celebrations- lots of green and glitter and beer in the streets around the irish pubs, and plenty of film crews too (maybe if you search hard enough you will find a clip of us dancing and chanting and generally giving travellers a rowdy reputation).
We managed to pack a lot into our days, highlights include:
-exploring all of the markets in the different areas of BA, leading to an enjoyable but exhausting 10 hour walk around between and back from the markets
-visit to La Boca, area where all the huildings are painted to the point of true graphic design and street art, also `La Camanita´ where the houses become individual blocks of coloured corrugated iron, they are so vibrant they almost seem to emit life!
-the cemetery in Recoleta, huge tombs with ornate carvings and statues, forming a labrynth at once beautiful but solemn and imposing- also Evita´s tomb
- a hugely funny tango class, followed by a professional tango show (we could have given them a run for their money...definitely...)
-a mound of the juiciest steak imaginable
-visiting a ranch, horse riding and riding with gauchos, watching an incredible horsemanship display (cantering up to a stand and sewing a needle through a ring the size of a bottle cap)
-football game at the BOCA stadium! BOCA juniors vs. Lanus (ended in a draw) but now a die-hard fan, got the football jersey and everything...
-obviously the crazy nightlife! people start to party at 2am, making it back to the hostel in time for breakfast, having danced as hard as the Argentinians
We managed to pack a lot into our days, highlights include:
-exploring all of the markets in the different areas of BA, leading to an enjoyable but exhausting 10 hour walk around between and back from the markets
-visit to La Boca, area where all the huildings are painted to the point of true graphic design and street art, also `La Camanita´ where the houses become individual blocks of coloured corrugated iron, they are so vibrant they almost seem to emit life!
-the cemetery in Recoleta, huge tombs with ornate carvings and statues, forming a labrynth at once beautiful but solemn and imposing- also Evita´s tomb
- a hugely funny tango class, followed by a professional tango show (we could have given them a run for their money...definitely...)
-a mound of the juiciest steak imaginable
-visiting a ranch, horse riding and riding with gauchos, watching an incredible horsemanship display (cantering up to a stand and sewing a needle through a ring the size of a bottle cap)
-football game at the BOCA stadium! BOCA juniors vs. Lanus (ended in a draw) but now a die-hard fan, got the football jersey and everything...
-obviously the crazy nightlife! people start to party at 2am, making it back to the hostel in time for breakfast, having danced as hard as the Argentinians
Tuesday, 3 April 2012
Rio to Buneos Aires!
One of the last activities we did in Rio was a favela tour- favelas are similar to slums but with much more structure and are more like a neighborhood than a nuisance. There are about 2 million inhabitants in favelas in Brazil in total, this particular favela (Rocinha) had about 30,000. The police had just started a `pacification-process´- flushing out all the drugs and guns etc.- in this favela, and similar operations were being carried in others, in preparation for the Olympics.
There are tiny little alleys for streets, winding between (and sometimes under) the houses packed closely together, with all electricity lines and pipework on the outside of buildings, so there is a constant jumble of wires overhead. Apparently all the locals have free internet, electricity and cable tv by breaking open the locked access boxes and wiring them up directly to avoid the metre- officials do not prevent the tampering from fear of local drug lords [At one point a man walked past who, we were later told, worked for the drug lords, and was used by them to punish domestic violence in the favela- by scalping!] People can rent the `houses´- more like rooms- which costs close to if not all of an average monthly wage, so most build their own. In the favelas, if somebody finds an area of open space it is theirs to build on. Obviously with so many people crowded, space isn´t available, so roof space can be sold instead, and building goes upwards, with four or five houses on top of eachother. With no real foundations or structural support it´s very easy in mudslides for houses to collapse- we saw one eerily empty gap among the houses with the hep or rubble left there. Rubbish is also strewn about; in theory it is collected every three days by the government but salaries are paid by standing order and nobody checks if collectors do their jobs, so in most cases, it is just left. Sewage systems run under the alleys, but with mudslides, heavy rain and all the rubbish clogging, there were parts which flowed across the street.
After a few more days of sun, sand and samba, we took another 24 hour bus to see the famed Iguazu Falls. It´s possible to see the Falls from both Brazil and Argentina- and hotly disputed which one is better- but we crossed the border into Argentina and first saw then heard the water at `Garganta del Diablo´- The Devil´s Throat. The sheer sound and scale was absolutely breathtaking- especially with the water vapour rising into the air- so despite all the photos looking like generic downloads from google images, it really was awe-inspiring. We walked round all the other waterfalls too and later took a boat underneath one, getting soaked and chafing all the way back to the bus. Next stop was Florianopolis, or technically the Isla Santa Catarina,.further south back in Brazil. Lovely beaches and atmosphere, dearly remembered by all who have been there and for good reason! We were there for International Women´s Day and celebrated with a self-navigated kayaking excursion to the lagoon (felt the endorphins almost immediately!) followed by Notting Hill and then a half-price-for-women all-you-can-eat curry for the equivalent of about two pounds. Heaven.
Following the advice of some friends we made in Rio, we decided to make a little detour into Uruguay for a few days. The bus arrived at the border between Brazil and Uruguay at 7 am, and it was quite surreal to be sitting in the middle of an avenue with Brazil on one side, with signs and shop names in Portuguese, and then Uruguay and spanish on the other! It was here that we had our first experience of `Maté', a herbal tea drunk from a special gourd through a silver spoon called a bombilla, and shared among a group, all drinking from the same cup. We felt privileged to share in the custom with one local and two fellow travellers from Spain (who luckily did most of the talking). We walked the 2km across the border to our next bus stop and the border control for the all-important passport stamp, walking along the side of the road with cars, lorries and horses and carts driving past, it felt very strange to be suddenly in a different country with a different langauge and a noticeably different landscape- lots of flat green fields. We spent a few days in Punta del Diablo, climbing boulders along the beaches and sand boarding (a friend at our hostel decided to teach us; we weren´t exactly quick learners, it was exhausting, there was sand in our teeth for days afterwards, but most importantly it was so much fun!) We watched both the sunrises and also the moon rise out of the sea- initially blood-red and triangular, poking up out of the waves, then slowly growing and fading in colour. The stars were beyond belief- never seen such clarity or brightness before or since- and we could even see the Milky Way.
We headed next to a town called Cabo Polonio; a town with sand roads flanked on both sides by untouched beaches, and supposedly with no electricity. It was really beautiful with lots of little painted houses and lighthouse, and at night the candlelight emitted a bewitching glow from all the windows. Elle and I met a man whose godfather ran a radio station and we were invited to be interviewed, and so we made our international radio debut in Uruguay! (Ok..Cabo Polonio...with about 40 listeners...we said about two words in spanish since we tried to be polite and make an effort...we got told we ''could have done better''....) Later that night we danced around a bonfire on the beach with three musicians singing and playing guitars/wooden blocks, under the stars with the sound of the waves providing a background ostinato...
Very sad to leave Uruguay, we caught the bus to Montevideo and then the overnight ferry to Buenos Aires, arriving on Paddy´s Day and completely unprepared for the excitement waiting for us!
There are tiny little alleys for streets, winding between (and sometimes under) the houses packed closely together, with all electricity lines and pipework on the outside of buildings, so there is a constant jumble of wires overhead. Apparently all the locals have free internet, electricity and cable tv by breaking open the locked access boxes and wiring them up directly to avoid the metre- officials do not prevent the tampering from fear of local drug lords [At one point a man walked past who, we were later told, worked for the drug lords, and was used by them to punish domestic violence in the favela- by scalping!] People can rent the `houses´- more like rooms- which costs close to if not all of an average monthly wage, so most build their own. In the favelas, if somebody finds an area of open space it is theirs to build on. Obviously with so many people crowded, space isn´t available, so roof space can be sold instead, and building goes upwards, with four or five houses on top of eachother. With no real foundations or structural support it´s very easy in mudslides for houses to collapse- we saw one eerily empty gap among the houses with the hep or rubble left there. Rubbish is also strewn about; in theory it is collected every three days by the government but salaries are paid by standing order and nobody checks if collectors do their jobs, so in most cases, it is just left. Sewage systems run under the alleys, but with mudslides, heavy rain and all the rubbish clogging, there were parts which flowed across the street.
After a few more days of sun, sand and samba, we took another 24 hour bus to see the famed Iguazu Falls. It´s possible to see the Falls from both Brazil and Argentina- and hotly disputed which one is better- but we crossed the border into Argentina and first saw then heard the water at `Garganta del Diablo´- The Devil´s Throat. The sheer sound and scale was absolutely breathtaking- especially with the water vapour rising into the air- so despite all the photos looking like generic downloads from google images, it really was awe-inspiring. We walked round all the other waterfalls too and later took a boat underneath one, getting soaked and chafing all the way back to the bus. Next stop was Florianopolis, or technically the Isla Santa Catarina,.further south back in Brazil. Lovely beaches and atmosphere, dearly remembered by all who have been there and for good reason! We were there for International Women´s Day and celebrated with a self-navigated kayaking excursion to the lagoon (felt the endorphins almost immediately!) followed by Notting Hill and then a half-price-for-women all-you-can-eat curry for the equivalent of about two pounds. Heaven.
Following the advice of some friends we made in Rio, we decided to make a little detour into Uruguay for a few days. The bus arrived at the border between Brazil and Uruguay at 7 am, and it was quite surreal to be sitting in the middle of an avenue with Brazil on one side, with signs and shop names in Portuguese, and then Uruguay and spanish on the other! It was here that we had our first experience of `Maté', a herbal tea drunk from a special gourd through a silver spoon called a bombilla, and shared among a group, all drinking from the same cup. We felt privileged to share in the custom with one local and two fellow travellers from Spain (who luckily did most of the talking). We walked the 2km across the border to our next bus stop and the border control for the all-important passport stamp, walking along the side of the road with cars, lorries and horses and carts driving past, it felt very strange to be suddenly in a different country with a different langauge and a noticeably different landscape- lots of flat green fields. We spent a few days in Punta del Diablo, climbing boulders along the beaches and sand boarding (a friend at our hostel decided to teach us; we weren´t exactly quick learners, it was exhausting, there was sand in our teeth for days afterwards, but most importantly it was so much fun!) We watched both the sunrises and also the moon rise out of the sea- initially blood-red and triangular, poking up out of the waves, then slowly growing and fading in colour. The stars were beyond belief- never seen such clarity or brightness before or since- and we could even see the Milky Way.
We headed next to a town called Cabo Polonio; a town with sand roads flanked on both sides by untouched beaches, and supposedly with no electricity. It was really beautiful with lots of little painted houses and lighthouse, and at night the candlelight emitted a bewitching glow from all the windows. Elle and I met a man whose godfather ran a radio station and we were invited to be interviewed, and so we made our international radio debut in Uruguay! (Ok..Cabo Polonio...with about 40 listeners...we said about two words in spanish since we tried to be polite and make an effort...we got told we ''could have done better''....) Later that night we danced around a bonfire on the beach with three musicians singing and playing guitars/wooden blocks, under the stars with the sound of the waves providing a background ostinato...
Very sad to leave Uruguay, we caught the bus to Montevideo and then the overnight ferry to Buenos Aires, arriving on Paddy´s Day and completely unprepared for the excitement waiting for us!
Wednesday, 14 March 2012
Downtime Then Downtown (Feb 23rd- March 4th)
The exhaustion hit hard following the apocalyptic week of carnival, so Bee and I decided to head south to a very relaxed beach town called Itacare. (We are slowly realising here that everybody does the same route around Brazil or in reverse, so the friends we made in Salvador had been there before carnival, and the people we met in Itacare had been in Salvador previously. It sometimes feels like there is no such thing as originality or individuality!) We spent three days on the most beautiful beaches- the description ´picture postcard´ doesn´t even come close- which are all laid out next to the other like perfectly manicured fingernails on a hand, each one favoured for different reasons- surfing, bar/food, beach sports. We were lucky enough on our last night to see a capoeira show. Capoeira is a kind of fusion of martial arts and dance which was (we were told) developed by African slaves in Brazil who wanted to maintain a standard of strength and agility for fighting without making it obvious. The fighters/dancers all wear white and spin about at ridiculous speeds, launching high kicks which look terrifying at such close proximity! The show was performed by a school, so it was also very cute to see little children trying in their own way to mimic the movements.
It was hard to leave such a beautiful and charmingly relaxed town, but our two friends were flying into Rio in two days and time was of the essence! Onwards south.
Our first long-distance bus journey was horrific, putting it mildly. We had half-reclining seats right at the back by the toilets, so quite smelly after a while, we were right over the engine, so the tainted air and heat were awful and the windows wouldn't open. We were slowly cooked alive for 24 hours. But after all that complaining, we had reached Rio! Coming out of the bus station we could see a tiny pin-sized statue of Christ the Redeemer in the far distance which was just a little underwhelming but regardless, photos were taken like the tourists we are. Found a hostel in Ipanema (IPANEMA!) three blocks from that little-known beach, in an off-street called Hostel Row, where there are about ten hostels packed side by side in this one little alley, so a great atmosphere and lots of lovely people from all over the world. Finally Lily and Elle arrived! There was a moment of sheer blinding excitement to have them here with us at long last, but also very strange to have such a large group of four after only being a twosome for four weeks. Girls being girls there was much giggling and shrieking but we did eventually manage to calm down....
Ipanema Beach is a stretch of sand for strutting and exercising, of epic proportions. There is a very shallow bank at the edge of the water, meaning the waves crash high and thunder downwards, making it very hard to swim- Elle bravely attempted and lost her bikini bottoms in the process. Just a note for fans of skinny dipping- it is very strongly frowned upon here and most beaches in Brazil and we even heard a story of a group of Brits being beaten with sticks by locals after being discovered! It seems very strange that complete nudity is forbidden whilst the tiniest thread-like bikinis and speedos are paraded with such pride everywhere.
We decided to grab the bull by the horns, so to speak, and did a tour of all of Rio´s most famous sights in one day. Needless to say, we were exhausted by the end!
The tour started at the Christ the Redeemer statue, where we took lots of airplane-pose photos and also the stunning landscape all around. The statue itself had been undergoing restoration work a few years before and looked absolutely pristine and gleaming in the sun. Next stop was the neighbourhood of Santa Tereza where we would spend our last night in Rio- very pretty architecture coexisting in surprising harmony with the graffiti (actually like artwork) adorning the streets. Next stop, Sugarloaf, thus named after the Portuguese thought the shape of the hill looked like bread that the locals baked. There we watched the sun set over Rio and it was beautiful, if not slightly marred by the number of people crammed up against the railings trying to take the perfect photo.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
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