After months of waiting and wondering the Peruvian government kept their promise and re-opened Macchu Picchu and the Inca Trail on 1st April- a special birthday present for me! The grande finale to our trip had arrived after years of planning and months of travelling to get here. It had been nearly taken away again with Blakey´s freak illness but the shot to the spine saw his lips shrink to as normal as they ever do and us board a pleasant night bus for the long and overdue ride to Cusco. As ever we slept intermittently and were not quite prepared when we crawled off at 6am and a taxi took us to the hotel to meet our group. We had one hour to prepare our bags, grab some breakfast and hop straight on a bus for the Sacred Valley along with 14 other eager trekkers. As the mini bus whisked us through the hills we snoozed in an attempt to catch up on sleep- it seemed like ages since our last undisturbed night- and we were never quite ready when the time came to go and view some ruins.
We had read in Bolivia that travellers coming from Peru might be disappointed- so going the other way we were certainly impressed. The huge stands of terracing supported by the large carved stones were incredible. I felt guilty as I struggled to keep my eyes open to listen to our guide´s incredibly informative (though rather long) explanations of the civilisations that constructed these feats of farming. One particulalry impressive section went down many layers so that a significant change in temperature could be felt form the exposed top terraces to the sheltered, sun drenched bottom- this is where the Incas cultivated wild crops for farming.
Whilst wandering through the impressive sites we started to chat to our fellow travellers- all English speakers wth an Aussie couple and some Canadians thrown amongst the predominately British crew. We soon started chatting to a group of lads travelling together that bought to mind "The Inbetweeners"- a really nice group with just the right hint of geek- exactly our kind of people! There was also a young English girl on her gap year before starting uni in a similarly tired state to us, though hers was hang over induced! As we slowly started chatting to people, even in our bleary eyed state, it seemed we had a decent group of people to share this experience with.
As we progressed throught the Sacred Valley we also saw a colonial church, as decorative as ever with gold and ornate paintings adorning each surface and gruesome depictions of Jesus´s suffering. Carlos explained the fusion of Andean religion with Catholisism as we rested in the pews and then took us to the town where we would stay for the nght, Ollantaytambo. Here we were introduced to a huge Inca complex hugging the side of a mountain- almost a sneak preview of what to expect at Macchu Picchu. The Incas really knew how to make the most of their locations with snow capped mountains glistening in the distance and a winding river cutting a steep valley- stunning.
Finally the tours of the day came to an end and we had the evening to ourselves. Feeling guilty about spurning the "getting to know you dinner" we headed straight out to town for some food with dreams of an early night. Thankfully the boys had the same idea, as did all the Brits, and we returned to hot showers and an early night in preparation for the strenuous next four days.
Day 1 of the Inca Trail was fairly leisurely- a 7am get up followed by an hours bus journey to the start point. From here we began the famous hike though we were stopped every ten minutes or so by our ever informative guide giving us more facts to remember. I´d love to bring a school party out on a trip like this as I have learned so much over the last 9 months- but we were eager to start challenging ourselves. The scenery was pretty, though reminiscent of our Colca trek the previous week and the path rather flat- we were starting to question whether we had paid three times the price simply for its notoriety- the beautiful scenery not quite jsutifying the price tag at this point. We were also struggling slightly with the need for porters- having carried our own bags on a number of treks we had managed to keep our packs light- it would have been much easier to carry them on this path than it was on the Colca trek last week. When we arrived at the camp for lunch 40 minutes early and simply sat down to watch the porters oragnise tents and food we felt a little guilty and slightly underwhelmed- where was the challenge we had come for?
The afternoon followed in a similar way- the gorgeous weather bathing everything in a warm golden light, beautiful green hills rolling either side of us with donkeys grazing but the flat path making ofr a fairly easy trek that we could have managed without all the trappings that came with the price tag. We arrived at camp just before 3pm and had the rest of the afternoon to amuse ourselves- the boys having an impressive game of high altitude football in which the porters beat them by just 5-4 whilst Blakey and I sat on a picnic blanket overlooking a valley and confided our slight sense of disappointment at this stage. However, having a cook with us did lead to a delicious evening meal and then bed by 8pm when the valley turned pitch black save the millions of stars that could be enjoyed from here.
The next day was an earlier start and from what we had heard, a far greater challenge. Today we were to trek to the highest point on the trail at 4200 metres- Dead Woman´s pass. Right from the beginning we faced an uphil incline- this was more like it! The altitude had us all huffing and puffing in no time as our thighs pushed against the steep slope- we had 1200 metres to ascend. By the time we reached the camp for lunch today we felt far more deserving- and very glad of the wonderful porters that allowed us a few minutes rest as they organised food, having arrived well before us and lugging 25 kilos of weight on their backs- absolutely amazing!
Then came the afternoon and another 800 metres of altitude on a far steeper never ending path. It seems doing Colca Canyon the week before is the thing to do- though we all huffed and puffed Blakey and I soon found our stride and slowly but surely made it up the mountain. Most impressively, Blakey beat the whole group and reached the summit incredibly fast. He was followed by a few of the boys and then I was the first girl to get up. As the boys clapped my achievement I refused to stop until I reached the very top step- something that insantly rewarded me with the most (literally) breathtaking views. Looking out across the otherside was a beautiful blue sky, glistening snowy mountains stretching across the horizon and pretty wisps of clouds floating below us halfway up the peaks. This is what we paid for- it was utterly spectacular and even more stunnig for the effort we had made to get here. With the rest of the group still making their way up we had plenty of time to enjoy the peace and quiet- Blakey waited for over an hour for everyone to catch him up- though the tranquility was momentarily spoilted by one of the girls having a panic attack and demanding oxygen (though it seemed to us she was just pissed off that her boyfriend had left her trailing- unlike me who was glowing with pride at my super-human fiance!) Unfortunately the second guide was bringing the first aid kit with the last members of the group a little way behind, but after taking her through some breathing exercises she calmed down. I think Blakey was even more proud of me in comparison to her and the phrase "Get me some oxygen!!" will always bring a smug grin to ur faces! After lots of congratulatory photos we began the much easier descent to our camp for the night, though the uneven steps were fairly steep- a real challenge for the few knee and ankle injuries in our group (though my peg legs were dosed and strapped and on good form- I really was feeling smug!) We bounded down, inspired by the fabulous views and hit camp by 3pm again- it seems we were an impressively fast group! At the highest camp we sat on our sleeping bags with the tent unzipped, looking out across the valley at the clouds below. Another delicious dinner was followed by another early night and an even earlier start at 5.30am- we were building up to something here!
The early start the next day was in response to the greatest amount of trekking coupled with a number of Inca sites along the way, but we had our second mountain pass to conquer first. Again the steep incline was hard work for our lungs but our legs had been well trained and soon made it to the top (Blake at the head of the group again- my hero!) Slightly less strenuous than the day before the view was even more impressive and once again we had lots of time to enjoy our achievement. We had been ahead of our guide for the whole trek so far- we assumed the two months enforced holiday as a result of the landslides had made him a little complacent, but today it was clear he was really struggling. By the time he joined us at the peak his colour was tinged green and he was clearly ill. It seemed he had picked up a stomach bug so we administered some of Blakey´s antibiotics and paracetemol to bring his temperture down and kept moving guiltily- if a tourist was in the same state we´re certain they would be given more support.
After the mountain pass we had 3000 steps to take down again- this time through lush cloud forests. We had ben told of the wildlife that lives here- snakes, frogs (which we could hear but not see everywhere) and most excitingly, spectacle bears- Paddington! We didn´t see any but it was nice knowing that we were officially in deepest darkest Peru if Paddington came from here and we enjoyed the winding trek hugging the mountain face (thankfully the sharp drops were disguised by the foliage) in the company of the three lads who kept us amused with amicable chats. Once again we were the first five to reach the meeting point so took a detour up the hill to a nearby Inca site that we had entirely to ourselves (giving Blakey the opportunity to go to the toilet in the most ancient and significant place he probably ever will- how lovely). We sat at the top terrace, looking down to the river below and the little tents lined in our campsite for quite a while until talk of how good it would have been to bring a beer up with us drove the party back down to camp. This being the closest camp to Macchu Picchu it was the first site with an electricity supply allowing us a stop in the bar with nice cold drinks and the chance to pay for hot showers. Having gone for longer without we kept our money and our body heat as we snuggled down in our sleeping bags for the last sleep before seeing Macchu Picchu itself.
It was still pitch black outside when the porters bought a bowl of tepid wtaer to our tents at 4am for a quick wash and early breakfast. We had a short walk to join the queue for the check point which opened at 5.30am followed by 6 kilometres to the famous site. As an added extra we had the option to climb Wiñay Picchu, the steep mountian that offers aerial views, but with passes restricted to 400 per day and day trippers due to arrive before us we had to be quick to secure a permit. Though we stopped for a couple of photographs en route we pushed forwards with the hope of this last challenge.
With Carlos still ill he sent our second guide, Nephalie, ahead whilst he walked at the back of the group. Having got stuck behind a couple of people the three boys and Neph had disappeared from sight when we passed through the Sun Gate into the stunning Inca citadel. Having worried that the ruins along the way might make everything merge into one we were soon reassured- it was massive and spectacularly impressive. Nestled amongst a range of mountains the location could not have been prettier and the range of buildings just amazing. We allowed ourselves just moments to appreciate everything but had already encountered day trippers- if we were to climb Wiñay Picchu we had to move fast.
We started searching for Neph and the boys but they were nowhere to be seen- we assumed they had run ahead to gain their passes and so asked another tour guide what to do. We were sent to the entrance gate of the complex right down the hill and out of the citadel altogether. We rushed there to meet a particularly unhelpful official who made no attempt to slow her Spanish (in fact, I think she purposefully sped up) and asked for permits. She told us we didn´t need them- though we had been told to rush here solely to secure them. I waited there whilst she ignored me and chatted to her friend and asked again to once again be told no, go there and get them from your guide. It was so frustrating, but I decided to use the opportunity to run to the loo just outside the gates as we had come all the way down here, asking if it was OK first- we were desperate to get back up and enjoy the sun rising over the valley as soon as possible. I ran to the loos then back up passed the security guard who stooped me and asked for my ticket. I explained that Carlos had my ticket, that he wasn´t well and that he was coming more slowly but that I had done the Inca Trail. I proved it with the three passport stamps- all dated- that I had acquired along the way. Blakey, thankfully the otherside of the barrier, ran into the office to the officials we had spoken to and asked them to identify me and let me back in, but they refused! All that walking, all that rushing at the last moment and I had to send Blakey in with the camera so I could at leat see pictures of the sunrise whilst I sat on the steps, waiting. About 20 minutes later Neph arrived with the two boys, bursting for a pee, and explained the situation. Still, Carlos had the tickets so the boys were not allowed out and I was not allowed in. Eventually, over 45 minutes later Carlos arrived (as well as the blazing sun) and I joined the growing hordes of day trippers (who hadn´t worked as hard for the privilege in my opinion!!)
As I had sat on the steps the jobsworth security guards had changed their mind about the information they had given us and handed Blakey two permits to climb Wiñay Picchu- thank goodness! If I couldn´t see the sunrise then this was to be my new "grand finale" as the group came back together I learned from Neph that they had been equally unhelpful with him- hence his disappearance when we got to Macchu Picchu- they had sent him across the complex twice, running with the boys only to be handed a permit at the first place he asked after the wild goose chase. However, this meant us and the three boys were going to face the challenge of Wiñay Picchu together- great!
After a brief tour with Carlos of the complex (though very in depth- the paracetemol and antibiotics had put him back on top form!) we headed to the looming, near vertical mountain slope ahead of us. We had 300 metres to ascend and were told it would take around 1 hour. The boys soon headed passed me but even I over took enough people to reach the summit in just over 30 minutes. Having all been impressed with our speed so far they had timed us- they arrived in 24 minutes and Blakey in 28 (though I think I held him up at the start when he had helped me on some particularly trecherous passes) Bloody hell- we were good! However, the moment we stood on the top the reality of being perched a top a vertical hill hit- Macchu Picchu looked tiny below, directly below- this place was utterly steep. I held it together until we went a little further and the boys climbed onto an outcrop on tiny steps that hung over the edge- then I lost it. As overly confident people jumped precariously amongst the bolders at the top it was too easy to visualise accidents and my legs went to jelly. I nearly bit Blakey´s head off when he asked me to take a picture of him jumping. I didn´t.
Thankfully for me an Aussie girl was experiencing similar vertigo, so when the time came to descend an incredibly steep set of narrow stairs with a sheer vertical drop of around 500 metres to the right hand side the two of us sat on our bums as our legs lost all strength and our tummies turned upside down. Blakey slowly went ahead and a couple of guys from her tour group behind us, encouraging us to take our time and keep our confidence. For the second time that morning I could have cried but manged to hold it together as I slowly and surely made my way down- it was the greatest challenge of the whole four days. I was so pleased to be back on solid ground a the end and as lunch time approached we treated ourselves to an incredibly overpriced drink (the adrenaline had uterly drained me) and boarded a bus to Aguas Calientes. That was one of my greatest achievements over the whole trip!
That afternoon we had a long wait for the reduced train service (80% of the trains are stuck behind the broken tracks in Cusco) but whiled away the time in the hot springs that the town takes its name from. It was great to have the afternoon with the rest of the group- a really nice bunch to share the experience with- but many of us couldn´t keep our eyes open on the 9.30pm train out of there. After two further buses we arrived back in the town of Cusco at gone 2am. None of us were in a fit state to say a proper goodbye- we will have to send a few emails to make up for it later.
The next day our tuned body clocks woke up at 7am despite our tiredness. We indulged in a big breakfast then headed back to our room which we didn´t leave until 6pm that night, only when our bellies demanded it. After a day of TV, snoozing and blog writing we were just about ready to face the world again. We booked tickets to Nazca for the following night and were out like a light again.
Our one last day in Cusco should have been sight seeing, as we would have done on our first day had we not been stuck in Arequipa with an ill Blakey, but having seen the greatest highlight of Peru a couple of days before we opted to sit in the sunny plaza, overlooking a cathedral and sipping coffees instead. We have two weeks until we return to normality and now we intend to relax.
Wednesday 14 April 2010
Tuesday 6 April 2010
Colca Canyon
Sunbathing time drinking back crates of cold Corona was now officially over as at 3am we were sat on a coach getting driven down rumbling rocky roads on route for a lengthy three day trek in Colca Canyon, the second deepest canyon in the world.
Before descending into the 3191m deep terrain we were taken to Cruz del Condor where we would hopefully spot some Andean condors in flight. The moment we stepped out of the coach luck seemed to be on our side as at least six black winged gliders were in view over the jaw dropping canyon. However, things didn´t go quite to plan though as it was now 9.30am and our guide named Angel (a miniature superhero who would look just like Speedy González if given a Mexican hat) informed us that our included breakfast was actually not so included. Not only were all three of us starving but after our 2am wake up call we were desperately needing a caffeine fix- in particular Laura, who was more than a little grumbly. By the time we had squeezed our way through the biggest crowd of tourists gathered in one place in our entire 9 months over to a stall selling bananas, the condors had all simply vanished and they didn`t coming back.
Slightly gutted not to have seized the moment with the camera when we had the chance we drove onwards to the dusty streets of Cabanaconde where we were told we would finally get some food. Well unfortunately not, as the restaurant Angel was going to take us to was closed during Easter and all of the other places to eat that were actually open he deemed too expensive. Angel said that he would buy our lunch from a local shop and that we could dine in the canyon at 3pm. 3pm!!!? Our superhero guide really wasn´t giving the best of starts and with members of our group scattered over the plaza looking lost to who their actual tour was with, this trip came across like it would be a complete un-organised disaster. Angel then disappeared for twenty minutes so we made the most of it by running over to the nearest cafe for a damn good coffee and gather whatever snacks we could quickly find.
Another twenty minutes on and we were finally all gathered together and could now work out who we were spending the next 3 days with. In our group were Swiss brother and sister act Henry and Alex, who both had firm bulging leg muscles as if they do trekking for a living, a pretty and single Cornish lass (Toby`s eyes lit up) called Erica who had already somehow managed to loose her trousers, and Hilary and Anne-Marie, two madames from Canada. A real mixed bag but first impressions seemed great for us to all get along.
We set off on an easy stroll across a beautiful sprawling plain with the ever present snowy mountains around us and soon reached San Miguel. Unfortunately for Toby not a beer drenched paradise but an incredible view point over Colca and three villages that cling to the canyon walls of which two we would visit the following day.
Next up was our first proper workout as we headed on a steep three hour downhill climb to the village of San Juan de Chuccho where we would get some lunch. The crumbly hike past vast amounts of giant cacti around narrow cliff edges overlooking the sharp canyon drop below was far more spectacular then we could have imagined and the camera was in use on every corner. Our new Swiss companions were in predicted form as they both shot off miles in front while the madames kept behind struggling with the altitude.
Our hunger gave us a good pace though and soon we reached the gorgeous village which was overgrown with rich green plant life and welcoming inhabitants. We sat in a little wooden shack and began to get to know one another in our group whilst rapidly chomping through some tasty llama and chips (though Laura was rewarded with yet another omelet).
After lunch we made a gradual two hour uphill trek towards our accommodation for the night in the high village of Coshnirwa. Again it was another enjoyable walk over rickety bridges, past lush waterfalls cascading to the canyon deep below and lessons from Angel to what the various plants along the trail can be used for, which included the nasty acidic like white juice that seeps out of one plant named Piri-piri that local women mix with their tea to induce a miscarriage. Toby, Henry and I all made the mistake of spotting the fruit that grows on the top of the Tuna cacti before our guide did, which resulted in hundreds of almost invisible spiky hairs being pricked into our hands- we won`t be doing that again!
Arriving later at another perfectly set village 2,450m up we were greeted by an adorable little boy with a pump action water gun which inspired Toby and I to be kids again by diving behind oil cans and doing cam mo rolls across the floor with our pretend finger pistols. Needless to say the young kid absolutely loved our war game antics and was in fits of giggles. An hour later when we strolled up for dinner the boy had recruited his friend and older sister to join in for a second shoot out, although this time they came armed with sticks which they swiped us with- not quite as fun.
The evening was spent with Toby, Laura and I dangling our feet off of the balcony of our mud hut gazing up at the brightly star lit sky that shined down upon the stunning scenery around us. Whilst we nattered over a good vodka and coke life couldn´t have been any better, until Laura noticed that both of her rings had gone missing. This led to a lengthy hunt of the grounds asking anyone and everyone in the village if they had seen them. Laura thinks she probably left them in the bathroom for what must have been twenty minutes after she washed her hands but either way they never turned up. A real shame but at least it wasn´t the bling engagement ring!
The next morning we had good motivation to get up and hike fast down the canyon as we were heading for the Oasis Paradise resort of Sangalle, complete with palm trees overlooking swimming pools next to a bar full of booze and food. Whether it was Toby´s competitive steak or the thought of alcohol that made him blast off and keep up with the fit Swiss duo I don´t know, but the three of them were first down to the wondrous setting lapping up every second of it. A blissful couple of hours were spent playing ball games in the pool, eating huge mounds of spaghetti, sunbathing like sea lions on the rocks and swinging in the relaxing hammocks.
Our following challenge was the hardest task of the whole three days as we had to ascend to the the top of the insanely steep Colca wall in front of us. It was going to take three tough hours to reach the summit and with the sun baring down upon us at this easy going resort we were a little hesitant to head off.
We soon left though with Toby and Henry challenging each other to run up the mountain as fast as humanly possible. The group then dispersed far apart for the climb which lead to our guide showing us his Speedy González skills racing up to the front and back of our group repeatedly checking if we were still all OK- Angel was really starting to shine and surely must have down twice the work that we did. A sweaty yet beautiful hike saw the boys finishing top in an impressive 1 hour 45m, myself in 2 hours 15m and Laura and Erica 15 minutes later- I´m not sure about everyone else´s time but we were chuffed with our efforts!
We trekked back to the town of Cabanaconde along a small path that weaved a pretty way through fields of crops and checked into a hotel with the best hot shower in a very very long time. After a lovely final meal out together we all crashed out in some equally satisfying beds.
The next day before taking the long coach journey back to Arequipa we had one last quick walk thirty minutes out of town to Mirador Achachiwa. This view point was one of the most special sights of the trek and plenty of photos followed.
It was time to bid farewell to the canyon and it`s unbelievable surroundings. After such a rocky start to the tour it really did turn out to be a fantastic highlight of South America and was the ideal pre-work out for our massive upcoming Inca trail trek to Machu Picchu.
Arriving early evening back in Arequipa we wanted to go out and celebrate the end of a brilliant three days with our new hiking buddies. Not only that but it was Toby`s last night with us already. However, with the madames needing a good sleep, Henry falling ill and Laura with a sudden bad case of things spurting out both ends at the same time, it was only Toby, myself and Erica who met up for a drink. Despite the lack of party go´ers, the dark psychedelic club called Deja Vu, full of fast spinning red and green laser lights over a banging dance floor, along with the arrival of a lively guy from Iran that we had met on the bus back from Colca and his new mate (the muscle bound Mr Arequipa 2009) our one drink turned into a great handful more.
Within an hour of eating some fine giant pizzas and necking back some mohitos Toby was up first to shake his money maker in the club, which was now rapidly filling up with large groups of single looking women who must have outnumbered the men by ten to one. The rest of us soon followed after we heard the dance floor loudly cheer Toby on. Being the only white males along with a single Erica it has to be said that we got a lot of winks and cheeky smiles from both the women and the men. One group of guys with ´TECHNO¨ tattooed on their biceps were more then a little excited to see me as they thought I was a famous electronica artist from Argentina. When I told them that I wasn´t the same guy but I was a musician who played that sort of music I´m not sure if they understood as they were even more keen to repeatedly offer me drinks. Thinking that they were nice lads but I wasn´t in for a possible night of date rape man on man action I declined. The rest of the night was a blur of thumping cheesy tunes and hilariously bad dance moves.
We stumbled back to our hotel around 3am where Laura was in a bit of a sorry state. She had been sick at least three times since we had been out and looked completely out of it. Had it have not been Toby´s farewell night I would have stayed in to rub her back or something. But I did go out and frankly, it was amazing and a totally brilliant end to a totally brilliant Toby filled week. Unfortunately at 4.30am things didn´t quite end how I would have liked as I awoke in extreme agony with my ribs feeling like they were going to collapse. After quite amusingly calling out Laura´s name repeatedly for five minutes (in an old man´s voice- ¨Laaaaurrrwwraaa, Laaaaauwwraaa¨) and not realising she had ear plugs in and Toby thinking that I was talking in my sleep, I took my watch off and aimed it at her head, or pillow should I say. Either way, I hit the wall instead, so I struggled up and leaned over grabbing the corner of her bed sheet which I yanked back and forth until Laura woke up from a dream in which she thought that she was in the middle of an earthquake. With the lights on it turned out that I also had a big puffy tongue and lips three times their normal size. After Laura gave me some antihistamines I calmed down and feel back asleep.
Early the next morning fearing that I might have meningitis or a serious heart condition Laura called the local doctor. Within an hour I had a Peruvian Karl Kennedy at my bedside. Just a few minutes later and he had me roll over on the bed and pull down my pants for what I had expected to be a painful prick in the bum- instead he inserted his honking sized jab stick straight into my spine. Quite possibly one of the most intense pains my body has ever experienced- and he didn´t even wop out his acoustic guitar and sing to make me feel better. However, by the time to doc was about to leave after a very efficient check, I could actually feel my lips and tongue again. He took a blood sample and would return a few hours on to give the results but with a high temperature and an indescribable fever he warned me against attempting our trek to Machu Picchu. This really didn´t look good. Not just that, but frustratingly annoying for Laura, I had completely trumped her illness.
I said a frail good bye to Toby that I can hardly remember and then an hour later the doctor returned. I awoke feeling much better with my temperature and face back to normal, but with the test results showing that I had some form of intoxication but everything was still inconclusive the doctor insisted that I was to wait a further 24 hours and see him again the next day.
Whatever was in that needle it certainly did the trick as the next morning I was in top form, almost too good to be true. At 5pm Laura and I headed over to the surgery out of town where the nurse signed a form saying that I was fit enough to hike the Inca Trail- we were more than a little chuffed and excited! That night we boarded a night bus to Cuzco for our last challenge of our journey. With such anticipation along with an incredible build up, would Machu Picchu be everything that we hoped it to be?
Before descending into the 3191m deep terrain we were taken to Cruz del Condor where we would hopefully spot some Andean condors in flight. The moment we stepped out of the coach luck seemed to be on our side as at least six black winged gliders were in view over the jaw dropping canyon. However, things didn´t go quite to plan though as it was now 9.30am and our guide named Angel (a miniature superhero who would look just like Speedy González if given a Mexican hat) informed us that our included breakfast was actually not so included. Not only were all three of us starving but after our 2am wake up call we were desperately needing a caffeine fix- in particular Laura, who was more than a little grumbly. By the time we had squeezed our way through the biggest crowd of tourists gathered in one place in our entire 9 months over to a stall selling bananas, the condors had all simply vanished and they didn`t coming back.
Slightly gutted not to have seized the moment with the camera when we had the chance we drove onwards to the dusty streets of Cabanaconde where we were told we would finally get some food. Well unfortunately not, as the restaurant Angel was going to take us to was closed during Easter and all of the other places to eat that were actually open he deemed too expensive. Angel said that he would buy our lunch from a local shop and that we could dine in the canyon at 3pm. 3pm!!!? Our superhero guide really wasn´t giving the best of starts and with members of our group scattered over the plaza looking lost to who their actual tour was with, this trip came across like it would be a complete un-organised disaster. Angel then disappeared for twenty minutes so we made the most of it by running over to the nearest cafe for a damn good coffee and gather whatever snacks we could quickly find.
Another twenty minutes on and we were finally all gathered together and could now work out who we were spending the next 3 days with. In our group were Swiss brother and sister act Henry and Alex, who both had firm bulging leg muscles as if they do trekking for a living, a pretty and single Cornish lass (Toby`s eyes lit up) called Erica who had already somehow managed to loose her trousers, and Hilary and Anne-Marie, two madames from Canada. A real mixed bag but first impressions seemed great for us to all get along.
We set off on an easy stroll across a beautiful sprawling plain with the ever present snowy mountains around us and soon reached San Miguel. Unfortunately for Toby not a beer drenched paradise but an incredible view point over Colca and three villages that cling to the canyon walls of which two we would visit the following day.
Next up was our first proper workout as we headed on a steep three hour downhill climb to the village of San Juan de Chuccho where we would get some lunch. The crumbly hike past vast amounts of giant cacti around narrow cliff edges overlooking the sharp canyon drop below was far more spectacular then we could have imagined and the camera was in use on every corner. Our new Swiss companions were in predicted form as they both shot off miles in front while the madames kept behind struggling with the altitude.
Our hunger gave us a good pace though and soon we reached the gorgeous village which was overgrown with rich green plant life and welcoming inhabitants. We sat in a little wooden shack and began to get to know one another in our group whilst rapidly chomping through some tasty llama and chips (though Laura was rewarded with yet another omelet).
After lunch we made a gradual two hour uphill trek towards our accommodation for the night in the high village of Coshnirwa. Again it was another enjoyable walk over rickety bridges, past lush waterfalls cascading to the canyon deep below and lessons from Angel to what the various plants along the trail can be used for, which included the nasty acidic like white juice that seeps out of one plant named Piri-piri that local women mix with their tea to induce a miscarriage. Toby, Henry and I all made the mistake of spotting the fruit that grows on the top of the Tuna cacti before our guide did, which resulted in hundreds of almost invisible spiky hairs being pricked into our hands- we won`t be doing that again!
Arriving later at another perfectly set village 2,450m up we were greeted by an adorable little boy with a pump action water gun which inspired Toby and I to be kids again by diving behind oil cans and doing cam mo rolls across the floor with our pretend finger pistols. Needless to say the young kid absolutely loved our war game antics and was in fits of giggles. An hour later when we strolled up for dinner the boy had recruited his friend and older sister to join in for a second shoot out, although this time they came armed with sticks which they swiped us with- not quite as fun.
The evening was spent with Toby, Laura and I dangling our feet off of the balcony of our mud hut gazing up at the brightly star lit sky that shined down upon the stunning scenery around us. Whilst we nattered over a good vodka and coke life couldn´t have been any better, until Laura noticed that both of her rings had gone missing. This led to a lengthy hunt of the grounds asking anyone and everyone in the village if they had seen them. Laura thinks she probably left them in the bathroom for what must have been twenty minutes after she washed her hands but either way they never turned up. A real shame but at least it wasn´t the bling engagement ring!
The next morning we had good motivation to get up and hike fast down the canyon as we were heading for the Oasis Paradise resort of Sangalle, complete with palm trees overlooking swimming pools next to a bar full of booze and food. Whether it was Toby´s competitive steak or the thought of alcohol that made him blast off and keep up with the fit Swiss duo I don´t know, but the three of them were first down to the wondrous setting lapping up every second of it. A blissful couple of hours were spent playing ball games in the pool, eating huge mounds of spaghetti, sunbathing like sea lions on the rocks and swinging in the relaxing hammocks.
Our following challenge was the hardest task of the whole three days as we had to ascend to the the top of the insanely steep Colca wall in front of us. It was going to take three tough hours to reach the summit and with the sun baring down upon us at this easy going resort we were a little hesitant to head off.
We soon left though with Toby and Henry challenging each other to run up the mountain as fast as humanly possible. The group then dispersed far apart for the climb which lead to our guide showing us his Speedy González skills racing up to the front and back of our group repeatedly checking if we were still all OK- Angel was really starting to shine and surely must have down twice the work that we did. A sweaty yet beautiful hike saw the boys finishing top in an impressive 1 hour 45m, myself in 2 hours 15m and Laura and Erica 15 minutes later- I´m not sure about everyone else´s time but we were chuffed with our efforts!
We trekked back to the town of Cabanaconde along a small path that weaved a pretty way through fields of crops and checked into a hotel with the best hot shower in a very very long time. After a lovely final meal out together we all crashed out in some equally satisfying beds.
The next day before taking the long coach journey back to Arequipa we had one last quick walk thirty minutes out of town to Mirador Achachiwa. This view point was one of the most special sights of the trek and plenty of photos followed.
It was time to bid farewell to the canyon and it`s unbelievable surroundings. After such a rocky start to the tour it really did turn out to be a fantastic highlight of South America and was the ideal pre-work out for our massive upcoming Inca trail trek to Machu Picchu.
Arriving early evening back in Arequipa we wanted to go out and celebrate the end of a brilliant three days with our new hiking buddies. Not only that but it was Toby`s last night with us already. However, with the madames needing a good sleep, Henry falling ill and Laura with a sudden bad case of things spurting out both ends at the same time, it was only Toby, myself and Erica who met up for a drink. Despite the lack of party go´ers, the dark psychedelic club called Deja Vu, full of fast spinning red and green laser lights over a banging dance floor, along with the arrival of a lively guy from Iran that we had met on the bus back from Colca and his new mate (the muscle bound Mr Arequipa 2009) our one drink turned into a great handful more.
Within an hour of eating some fine giant pizzas and necking back some mohitos Toby was up first to shake his money maker in the club, which was now rapidly filling up with large groups of single looking women who must have outnumbered the men by ten to one. The rest of us soon followed after we heard the dance floor loudly cheer Toby on. Being the only white males along with a single Erica it has to be said that we got a lot of winks and cheeky smiles from both the women and the men. One group of guys with ´TECHNO¨ tattooed on their biceps were more then a little excited to see me as they thought I was a famous electronica artist from Argentina. When I told them that I wasn´t the same guy but I was a musician who played that sort of music I´m not sure if they understood as they were even more keen to repeatedly offer me drinks. Thinking that they were nice lads but I wasn´t in for a possible night of date rape man on man action I declined. The rest of the night was a blur of thumping cheesy tunes and hilariously bad dance moves.
We stumbled back to our hotel around 3am where Laura was in a bit of a sorry state. She had been sick at least three times since we had been out and looked completely out of it. Had it have not been Toby´s farewell night I would have stayed in to rub her back or something. But I did go out and frankly, it was amazing and a totally brilliant end to a totally brilliant Toby filled week. Unfortunately at 4.30am things didn´t quite end how I would have liked as I awoke in extreme agony with my ribs feeling like they were going to collapse. After quite amusingly calling out Laura´s name repeatedly for five minutes (in an old man´s voice- ¨Laaaaurrrwwraaa, Laaaaauwwraaa¨) and not realising she had ear plugs in and Toby thinking that I was talking in my sleep, I took my watch off and aimed it at her head, or pillow should I say. Either way, I hit the wall instead, so I struggled up and leaned over grabbing the corner of her bed sheet which I yanked back and forth until Laura woke up from a dream in which she thought that she was in the middle of an earthquake. With the lights on it turned out that I also had a big puffy tongue and lips three times their normal size. After Laura gave me some antihistamines I calmed down and feel back asleep.
Early the next morning fearing that I might have meningitis or a serious heart condition Laura called the local doctor. Within an hour I had a Peruvian Karl Kennedy at my bedside. Just a few minutes later and he had me roll over on the bed and pull down my pants for what I had expected to be a painful prick in the bum- instead he inserted his honking sized jab stick straight into my spine. Quite possibly one of the most intense pains my body has ever experienced- and he didn´t even wop out his acoustic guitar and sing to make me feel better. However, by the time to doc was about to leave after a very efficient check, I could actually feel my lips and tongue again. He took a blood sample and would return a few hours on to give the results but with a high temperature and an indescribable fever he warned me against attempting our trek to Machu Picchu. This really didn´t look good. Not just that, but frustratingly annoying for Laura, I had completely trumped her illness.
I said a frail good bye to Toby that I can hardly remember and then an hour later the doctor returned. I awoke feeling much better with my temperature and face back to normal, but with the test results showing that I had some form of intoxication but everything was still inconclusive the doctor insisted that I was to wait a further 24 hours and see him again the next day.
Whatever was in that needle it certainly did the trick as the next morning I was in top form, almost too good to be true. At 5pm Laura and I headed over to the surgery out of town where the nurse signed a form saying that I was fit enough to hike the Inca Trail- we were more than a little chuffed and excited! That night we boarded a night bus to Cuzco for our last challenge of our journey. With such anticipation along with an incredible build up, would Machu Picchu be everything that we hoped it to be?
Monday 5 April 2010
Toby or not Toby?
A slow, uncomfortable and seemingly endless bus journey saw us stripping off the layers as we headed back down to sea level for the first time in weeks. Suddenly we realised that the huge conical volcano that had been in view for what seemed like hours already was the iconic Misti, towering over the sprawling suburbs of Arequipa. Once again the bus dropped us off in a drab part of town but the quick taxi drive to our Bed and Breakfast a few metres from the central plaza took us past beautiful town centre with magnificent churches, pituresque arches running down the streets and bright white buildings decorated to a state of grandeur. Add to this the excitement of Toby´s imminent arrival and Blakey was nearly peeing himself.
We checked into our hostal and after much debate as to whether we were going to scare Mr Woodfine with our eagerness for familiar company decided to screw what he thought and get a triple room- there was no escaping us. We were taken to a gorgeous wooden floor-boarded space with a huge window that framed the infamous volcano perfectly and three neat little beds. Now all we had to do was wait for his late arrival.
After taking a shower and wandering out for a bite to eat (followed by chocolate strawberry cake- mmmm) we were sat on our beds taking it easy. Each time the hostal´s doorbell rang Blakey´s ears pricked back like a dog awaiting its owner. In the exact same manner he mystically predicted the doorbell that was Toby. A few moments later a knock at the door was followed by a grinning cheeky face. Our first taste of home in 8 months!
After much hugging the oher little tastes of home were unfortunately stuck somewhere between London, Madrid and Lima- Woodfine´s bag had been lost en route with some tasty treats promised by Blakey´s Mum. However, we still received the visual treat of some video messages sent form Walnut House via Toby´s iPhone (a week with its music and apps has us both coveting one now) Smiles were particulalry broad at Patrick´s rendition of "How Much is That Doggy in the Window?" with the lesser known second verse included- the thought of seeing everyone in the flesh in exactly one month became more appealing than ever.
As excited as we all were Toby´s 18 hour flight and our pathetically early bedtime (which hasn´t been so embarrassing when it was just the two of us) left the rest of the catching up and gossip for the next day. We soon snuggled down to get some sleep- lovely.
Excited at the prospect of showing someone else our adventures Mr Blake had prepared a host of activities to keep us all entertained, his study of the Lonely Planet having turned him into a human Sat Nav as he took us on a tour of the city he following day. First stop was right opposite our hotel at the Casa Cultura- a university run museum housing artefacts from three child sacrifices recovered from the nearby volcanoes 15 years ago. After watching an excellent 20 minutes documentary detailing the Inca civilisation and the prestige associated with becoming a human sacrifice a guide took us through the many artefacts and their significance which were displayed in dimly lit cabinets. It was expertly managed- the truth of the age and wonder of each item was conveyed to bring a real sense of history being placed in front of our eyes. The tour finished with a viewing of one of the mummies- a 15 year old girl called Sarita. The snowy conditions had preserved her extremely well as the small figure sat cross legged in front of us- a small dent on her skull where a priest had hit her head after drugging her- the end of a long and tiring walk from Cuzco to the top of the mountian this far South. It was incredibly eerie- especially knowing it was right across from where we were sleeping- the idea of the life before this was so easy to comprehend. We all left feeling we had seen something incredibly significant.
After a delicious lunch at a cafe hand picked by Mr Blake again we headed to another place that ought to be revered and treated with respect, the convent of Santa Catalina. This huge walled nunnery housed women guarded from the outside world for four hundred years and was only recently opened to the general public. As such a holy place it ought to have been respected, but knowing that the first nuns that lived here had a reputation for hedonism and being accompanied by two of the least mature English blokes in Peru saw a fun visit. Toby joined the last supper, Blake got his bum out in a nun´s garden and every small space that could be climbed into was. A short stop for refreshments in a little plaza gave Toby his first, last and rather disappointing taste of coca leaves- not as strong as he would have liked it seemed.
After an action packed day we returned to our little room where I decided to stay for the evening (I intend to stop being sick soon- but the night before I hadn´t slept well when the chocoalte strawberry cake didn´t like my tummy) I left the boys to head out into the night to sample some of Peru´s best woodfired pizzas and managed to sleep through what I am told was a huge parade outside our window! The Easter celebrations here saw hordes of people hauling huge effigys of Jesus through the streets with candles lit and petals scattered under the feet of the 16 or so army men struggling to hold the statue aloft. I woke briefly when the giggling boys burst back through the door- they had just had their pictures taken with a guy who has stood on our street every night we have stayed here in a different coloured santa outfit wishing "Buenos Noches" to all who pass. They seemed thrilled- a pretty good night then!
The next day was up early again and the first taste of real activity for Toby as we headed up the hill out of town for a morning of white water rafting. The glorious sunny day saw us joined by 8 Spanish speaking tourists, one of whom joined the English for the strenuous paddle down the twisting nestled at the bottom of a beautiful canyon, all lorded over by the ever impressive Misti. A brief safety and instructive chat got us nervously excited at what we were about to embark on- the element of danger impressed upon us by the guide as he warned of the sharp rocks and the strong currents. He also told us that there were two areas that were classed higher in the grading system of rapids and that we would have to get out and carry the boat passed them on our novice course.
However, the moment we took to the water we did England proud! Our paddle technique was completely in-sync- much to our guide´s delight and genuine surprise it seemed (seeing us in wet suits before can´t have done much for his confidence- not the prettiest of sights!) The local girl added her all, but the Hampshire trio had this pegged! We hit out first set of rapids with suitable enthusiasm and wound up at the bottom with huge grins and a whooping celebration- oars in the air, led by our guide Tito. We were naturals. In fact, we did so well that Tito decided we could tackle one of the danger spots and put us all to work as we strenuously kept the raft steady, hit a swirling dip in the river and all ducked inside as the current took the dinghy straight towards a large rock. As we ricocheted off and regained control our descent of the rapid appeared expert- particularly when compared with the other two groups- one of which got stuck and then unable to fight the current, requiring Tito to drag them back on course and the other capsized- it wasn´t as easy as we made it look then!
We continued with our expertise down larger (though easier to navigate) waterfalls until the rapids we were not allowed to tackle when we walked along the bank, but before getting back into the raft Tito walked us up a large rock face and pointed to a deep spot across the river for us to jump into. Toby headed straight out- full of confidence (or no sense, depending on how you look at it) Blakey built himslef up a little more slowly, having seen the after effects of the idiots that jumped into the shallow waters in Laos and sported bandages for the rest of their trips. An utter dislike for heights and the nervousness of the other girl we were with saw me slink back down the rock face but Toby grabbed me and marched me back up. I was only allowed back in the raft if I jumped- which I did. The cold water I landed in saw me gasp and splutter for breath but I was glad to say I had done it.
After a full morning of rafting we came to the end of the trail. We had managed each challenge with no mishaps and were all planning a future trip that would involve trickier rapids. We headed back to town buzzing.
As the sun continued to beat down on us a holiday vibe defiantely kicked in. Toby´s endless taste for beer saw a quick trip to the supermarket for a crate of Corona, some limes and fresh fruit salad. We headed to the roof terrace of our hotel where sun loungers allowed us to luxuraite in the gorgeous weather, over looking the spires of the city´s many churches and cathedrals. We laid back and supped our nice cold beers and even spotted a condor circling overhead. When the sun went down we dragged ourselves out for dinner, but after an action packed morning and with all the excitement of the next day ahead we were soon tucked up again- listening to Father Christmas wish a "Buenos Noches" as Easter approached..
The next morning I woke up a little excited- it was my birthday! After a couple of well wishes from the half asleep boys when the sun first blared through our window we were bought to consciousness at 7.30am with a call from the airport- Toby´s bags had finally arrived! He rushed off to grab them as Blake and I enjoyed a mini lie in and then returned with a great pile of cards and a few little presents from home. Surrounded by all my notes and with a pink balloon in hand I felt as spoilt as I would have been in England- although I will be spoilt again on my return as a parcel sent by Danni "To Laura, via Toby Tiptoes" was held by some jobsworth at a Portsmouth Post Office- something for me to look forward to later.
The boys then disappeared leaving me to reread all my lovely meaages and returned with a huge delicious breakfast that was topped opff by the jar of marmite sent by Sara to us both- a real treat with just a month to go- no rationing!
The previous afternoon had been so idyllic that the first part of our day was spent on the roof allowing me to get stuck right in to Profdessor Layton´s mystery that Blakey had bought for me and we indulged in the fresh fruit that the boys had got for breakfast, along with rocky road and cornflake cakes from Blighty. Food was to become a significant part of the day as we then headed out for a delicious birthday meal at a recommended creperie (pointed out to us by the most cheerful traffic conductor in all of Peru- an absolute legend who is so smiley he has won tourism awards!) We ate an amazing meal accompanied by champagne and I topped it off with a raspberry laden pudding- it was turning out to be a great birthday!
But then a small disaster struck. We had intended to head out to one of Arequipa´s many bars or clubs for the evening but I was told that it was all closed for Good Friday. Earlier in the day Toby had been told he couldn´t buy any beer in the supermarket, but we assumed that was because he was trying before breakfast (I know). Here we were with the cheeky feeling of champagne lining our tummies, ready to make the most of this excuse to indulge and no one else in Peru was drinking. We managed to get a sneaky bottle of champagne and another of vodka under the counter and headed back to party at the hotel instead.
By early evening we were already fairly merry- we can count on one hand the number of times we have raised a glass out here, and once again the boys vanished on a mission. A few minutes later Blakey pulled me out of our room, camera in hand, for the most surreal "Happy Birthday" ever. As Toby held a large cake covered in candles a room full of strangers sang the familiar song, all looking to Toby when the tricky part that involved my name occured. Blakey and Toby sang "dear LAURA" extra loud to cover this slight embarrassment, which only made it seem more special!
After fits of giggles back in the rrom as we all recalled the "heartfelt" atmosphere, Toby strapped the camcorder to my head making me look like Terminator in a turban, placed a large knife in my hands and the sliced cake in the other- I went to each of my new friends in the hostal, menacingly holding the knife and asking in a way reminscient of Julie Walters in Dinner Ladies "Cake?!" Only the receptionists took us up on the offer, but after putting it in the kitchen for 30 minutes we returned to find it all gone- not one of us had taken a slice!
The evening continued just the three of us in our room chatting about anything and everything as we supped our bubbles and challenged each other to tests of strength of flexibility. It ended slighty abruptly when my sickness bug kicked in again (not an excuse- I really have been poorly- I didn´t even manage a glass of vodka) but it was no longer my birthday in Blighty by then and we really had enjoyed a great day.
One last day in Arequipa before heading to the Colca Canyon for some hard core trekking. We had always intended to take it easy this day which entailed moving as far as our favourite spot on the roof and exposing our pasty bodies to the fabulous sun. This was made all the more exciting by a couple of phone calls from Danni- the first time I have spoken to her since I got engaged and then she burst straight into tears and couldn´t manage more than 4 minutes chat! Today I was treated to two conversations with her- a pre and post bottle of wine duo, again making the prospect of seeing everyone again soon all the more appealing. Other than that it was extra early to bed as we had a 3am pick up the following day. So far Arequipa had been a lot of fun!
We checked into our hostal and after much debate as to whether we were going to scare Mr Woodfine with our eagerness for familiar company decided to screw what he thought and get a triple room- there was no escaping us. We were taken to a gorgeous wooden floor-boarded space with a huge window that framed the infamous volcano perfectly and three neat little beds. Now all we had to do was wait for his late arrival.
After taking a shower and wandering out for a bite to eat (followed by chocolate strawberry cake- mmmm) we were sat on our beds taking it easy. Each time the hostal´s doorbell rang Blakey´s ears pricked back like a dog awaiting its owner. In the exact same manner he mystically predicted the doorbell that was Toby. A few moments later a knock at the door was followed by a grinning cheeky face. Our first taste of home in 8 months!
After much hugging the oher little tastes of home were unfortunately stuck somewhere between London, Madrid and Lima- Woodfine´s bag had been lost en route with some tasty treats promised by Blakey´s Mum. However, we still received the visual treat of some video messages sent form Walnut House via Toby´s iPhone (a week with its music and apps has us both coveting one now) Smiles were particulalry broad at Patrick´s rendition of "How Much is That Doggy in the Window?" with the lesser known second verse included- the thought of seeing everyone in the flesh in exactly one month became more appealing than ever.
As excited as we all were Toby´s 18 hour flight and our pathetically early bedtime (which hasn´t been so embarrassing when it was just the two of us) left the rest of the catching up and gossip for the next day. We soon snuggled down to get some sleep- lovely.
Excited at the prospect of showing someone else our adventures Mr Blake had prepared a host of activities to keep us all entertained, his study of the Lonely Planet having turned him into a human Sat Nav as he took us on a tour of the city he following day. First stop was right opposite our hotel at the Casa Cultura- a university run museum housing artefacts from three child sacrifices recovered from the nearby volcanoes 15 years ago. After watching an excellent 20 minutes documentary detailing the Inca civilisation and the prestige associated with becoming a human sacrifice a guide took us through the many artefacts and their significance which were displayed in dimly lit cabinets. It was expertly managed- the truth of the age and wonder of each item was conveyed to bring a real sense of history being placed in front of our eyes. The tour finished with a viewing of one of the mummies- a 15 year old girl called Sarita. The snowy conditions had preserved her extremely well as the small figure sat cross legged in front of us- a small dent on her skull where a priest had hit her head after drugging her- the end of a long and tiring walk from Cuzco to the top of the mountian this far South. It was incredibly eerie- especially knowing it was right across from where we were sleeping- the idea of the life before this was so easy to comprehend. We all left feeling we had seen something incredibly significant.
After a delicious lunch at a cafe hand picked by Mr Blake again we headed to another place that ought to be revered and treated with respect, the convent of Santa Catalina. This huge walled nunnery housed women guarded from the outside world for four hundred years and was only recently opened to the general public. As such a holy place it ought to have been respected, but knowing that the first nuns that lived here had a reputation for hedonism and being accompanied by two of the least mature English blokes in Peru saw a fun visit. Toby joined the last supper, Blake got his bum out in a nun´s garden and every small space that could be climbed into was. A short stop for refreshments in a little plaza gave Toby his first, last and rather disappointing taste of coca leaves- not as strong as he would have liked it seemed.
After an action packed day we returned to our little room where I decided to stay for the evening (I intend to stop being sick soon- but the night before I hadn´t slept well when the chocoalte strawberry cake didn´t like my tummy) I left the boys to head out into the night to sample some of Peru´s best woodfired pizzas and managed to sleep through what I am told was a huge parade outside our window! The Easter celebrations here saw hordes of people hauling huge effigys of Jesus through the streets with candles lit and petals scattered under the feet of the 16 or so army men struggling to hold the statue aloft. I woke briefly when the giggling boys burst back through the door- they had just had their pictures taken with a guy who has stood on our street every night we have stayed here in a different coloured santa outfit wishing "Buenos Noches" to all who pass. They seemed thrilled- a pretty good night then!
The next day was up early again and the first taste of real activity for Toby as we headed up the hill out of town for a morning of white water rafting. The glorious sunny day saw us joined by 8 Spanish speaking tourists, one of whom joined the English for the strenuous paddle down the twisting nestled at the bottom of a beautiful canyon, all lorded over by the ever impressive Misti. A brief safety and instructive chat got us nervously excited at what we were about to embark on- the element of danger impressed upon us by the guide as he warned of the sharp rocks and the strong currents. He also told us that there were two areas that were classed higher in the grading system of rapids and that we would have to get out and carry the boat passed them on our novice course.
However, the moment we took to the water we did England proud! Our paddle technique was completely in-sync- much to our guide´s delight and genuine surprise it seemed (seeing us in wet suits before can´t have done much for his confidence- not the prettiest of sights!) The local girl added her all, but the Hampshire trio had this pegged! We hit out first set of rapids with suitable enthusiasm and wound up at the bottom with huge grins and a whooping celebration- oars in the air, led by our guide Tito. We were naturals. In fact, we did so well that Tito decided we could tackle one of the danger spots and put us all to work as we strenuously kept the raft steady, hit a swirling dip in the river and all ducked inside as the current took the dinghy straight towards a large rock. As we ricocheted off and regained control our descent of the rapid appeared expert- particularly when compared with the other two groups- one of which got stuck and then unable to fight the current, requiring Tito to drag them back on course and the other capsized- it wasn´t as easy as we made it look then!
We continued with our expertise down larger (though easier to navigate) waterfalls until the rapids we were not allowed to tackle when we walked along the bank, but before getting back into the raft Tito walked us up a large rock face and pointed to a deep spot across the river for us to jump into. Toby headed straight out- full of confidence (or no sense, depending on how you look at it) Blakey built himslef up a little more slowly, having seen the after effects of the idiots that jumped into the shallow waters in Laos and sported bandages for the rest of their trips. An utter dislike for heights and the nervousness of the other girl we were with saw me slink back down the rock face but Toby grabbed me and marched me back up. I was only allowed back in the raft if I jumped- which I did. The cold water I landed in saw me gasp and splutter for breath but I was glad to say I had done it.
After a full morning of rafting we came to the end of the trail. We had managed each challenge with no mishaps and were all planning a future trip that would involve trickier rapids. We headed back to town buzzing.
As the sun continued to beat down on us a holiday vibe defiantely kicked in. Toby´s endless taste for beer saw a quick trip to the supermarket for a crate of Corona, some limes and fresh fruit salad. We headed to the roof terrace of our hotel where sun loungers allowed us to luxuraite in the gorgeous weather, over looking the spires of the city´s many churches and cathedrals. We laid back and supped our nice cold beers and even spotted a condor circling overhead. When the sun went down we dragged ourselves out for dinner, but after an action packed morning and with all the excitement of the next day ahead we were soon tucked up again- listening to Father Christmas wish a "Buenos Noches" as Easter approached..
The next morning I woke up a little excited- it was my birthday! After a couple of well wishes from the half asleep boys when the sun first blared through our window we were bought to consciousness at 7.30am with a call from the airport- Toby´s bags had finally arrived! He rushed off to grab them as Blake and I enjoyed a mini lie in and then returned with a great pile of cards and a few little presents from home. Surrounded by all my notes and with a pink balloon in hand I felt as spoilt as I would have been in England- although I will be spoilt again on my return as a parcel sent by Danni "To Laura, via Toby Tiptoes" was held by some jobsworth at a Portsmouth Post Office- something for me to look forward to later.
The boys then disappeared leaving me to reread all my lovely meaages and returned with a huge delicious breakfast that was topped opff by the jar of marmite sent by Sara to us both- a real treat with just a month to go- no rationing!
The previous afternoon had been so idyllic that the first part of our day was spent on the roof allowing me to get stuck right in to Profdessor Layton´s mystery that Blakey had bought for me and we indulged in the fresh fruit that the boys had got for breakfast, along with rocky road and cornflake cakes from Blighty. Food was to become a significant part of the day as we then headed out for a delicious birthday meal at a recommended creperie (pointed out to us by the most cheerful traffic conductor in all of Peru- an absolute legend who is so smiley he has won tourism awards!) We ate an amazing meal accompanied by champagne and I topped it off with a raspberry laden pudding- it was turning out to be a great birthday!
But then a small disaster struck. We had intended to head out to one of Arequipa´s many bars or clubs for the evening but I was told that it was all closed for Good Friday. Earlier in the day Toby had been told he couldn´t buy any beer in the supermarket, but we assumed that was because he was trying before breakfast (I know). Here we were with the cheeky feeling of champagne lining our tummies, ready to make the most of this excuse to indulge and no one else in Peru was drinking. We managed to get a sneaky bottle of champagne and another of vodka under the counter and headed back to party at the hotel instead.
By early evening we were already fairly merry- we can count on one hand the number of times we have raised a glass out here, and once again the boys vanished on a mission. A few minutes later Blakey pulled me out of our room, camera in hand, for the most surreal "Happy Birthday" ever. As Toby held a large cake covered in candles a room full of strangers sang the familiar song, all looking to Toby when the tricky part that involved my name occured. Blakey and Toby sang "dear LAURA" extra loud to cover this slight embarrassment, which only made it seem more special!
After fits of giggles back in the rrom as we all recalled the "heartfelt" atmosphere, Toby strapped the camcorder to my head making me look like Terminator in a turban, placed a large knife in my hands and the sliced cake in the other- I went to each of my new friends in the hostal, menacingly holding the knife and asking in a way reminscient of Julie Walters in Dinner Ladies "Cake?!" Only the receptionists took us up on the offer, but after putting it in the kitchen for 30 minutes we returned to find it all gone- not one of us had taken a slice!
The evening continued just the three of us in our room chatting about anything and everything as we supped our bubbles and challenged each other to tests of strength of flexibility. It ended slighty abruptly when my sickness bug kicked in again (not an excuse- I really have been poorly- I didn´t even manage a glass of vodka) but it was no longer my birthday in Blighty by then and we really had enjoyed a great day.
One last day in Arequipa before heading to the Colca Canyon for some hard core trekking. We had always intended to take it easy this day which entailed moving as far as our favourite spot on the roof and exposing our pasty bodies to the fabulous sun. This was made all the more exciting by a couple of phone calls from Danni- the first time I have spoken to her since I got engaged and then she burst straight into tears and couldn´t manage more than 4 minutes chat! Today I was treated to two conversations with her- a pre and post bottle of wine duo, again making the prospect of seeing everyone again soon all the more appealing. Other than that it was extra early to bed as we had a 3am pick up the following day. So far Arequipa had been a lot of fun!
Wednesday 31 March 2010
Uros Floating Islands
Arriving late afternoon in Puno after a super quick border crossing into our final country of Peru we received one of our most warmest welcomes yet. A lady worker at Kusillo´s Hostel named Roxanne greeted us like we were old friends showing bucket loads of cheer and a huge smile to match. Within a minute of us being shown up to our cosy room she brought us in a tray of hot water and along with a cracking selection of tea- something that instantly earned her top brownie points. Our new country was already off to a lovely start.
Three cups fulls later and we headed out to type up the last few blogs of Bolivia and by the time we had finished early evening was setting in. Back at the hostel we had planned to quickly freshen up and set out to find some dinner when our host brought us in another tray of wonder with a hot water bottle for Laura thinking that we were ready for bed- it was only 8pm so we must have looked incredibly tired! We didn´t want to seem rude so snuggled up for an earlier than planned lights out quite satisfied with yet more tea.
To make up for our lack of supper last night the next morning we were given one of the best breakfasts in a long while, with fresh crispy bread, pancakes, juice, coffee and fried eggs. It certainly cheered up Laura who had had another rough night´s sleep with the snore monster, and to my defence I was pleased to finally hear from the mother of the household that it is because of the high altitudes that I am snarling dinosaur noises twice as loud than usual.
Seeing as we had four days here until we needed to leave for Arequipa to meet Toby (our first friend from back home to come and visit us) we spent our first full day in Puno in complete leisure strolling around the streets of the small port town. We bought our last postcards for home which tingled our insides with mixed emotions. As insanely excited as we are to finally return home and see friendly faces the actually reality of this mind blowing trip now ending feels somewhat devastating. For the meantime though we enjoyed just sitting back in our chairs under the blazing gold sunshine eating some delicious llama kebab on scewers drizzled in a red wine sauce (Laura obviously taking the non alpaca option).
Our second day in Puno was far more productive, as we got in a minivan with fourteen others and drove to the port where a boat would take us for a two day voyage around the different islands on Lake Titicaca. Within an hour we had docked at one of the astonishingly unique Uros floating islands inhabited by one of the five families that live there. Almost everything from the Uros people´s homes, puma-headed rafts and spongy floor is made from the totora reeds which sprout up in the waters of the lake. The inside stem of the reed is also used as a source of food, which when eaten helps clean their teeth at the same time- who needs toothpaste! We had a mildly tasty chomp on one whilst our guide demonstrated to us how the artificial islands are built from scratch. We were then shown around the small vicinity of the floating village, looking at the trout filled farm and into the tiny insides of the homes where Laura was chosen to dress up in typical bright pink and luminous green Uros clothing, making her look a bit like a giant lollipop.
There was a slight pressure to buy the locals handmade crafts and after La Paz we really weren´t in a position to spend any more money. We made up for not purchasing anything by paying for a relaxing puma boat taxi ride over to the other fascinating family homes. As we set off, the women on the island all lined up and bid us farewell by cheerfully clapping and singing local traditional songs (and an amusing version of ´row, row, row the boat!´)
About 10 minutes later and we reached our second island that had tame pet flamingoes walking around cheeky grinning teenage girls sat in a circle cooking up something that smelt incredible. They seemed more than happy for me to take a picture of them, although the cutest girl here (all of about 5 years old) was far more shy, and spent her time running away from the camera behind the different reed huts. Despite the high surge of tourists sailing in by the boat load here, with the Uros people naturally taking full advantage attempting to make some extra money by selling their embroidered clothing and crafts, this really was one of the most truly remarkable places we´ve visited.
We contined our journey at a slow boat ride pace over Titicaca to Isla Amantani where we would spend the night with one of the islanders. Once we had arrived we were greeted by a group of identically dressed women wearing black vales and christmas green coloured dresses. We were divided into pairs and sent off with our new mums to their different homes spread across the island. Our family consisted of a friendly cowboy hatted dad, two gorgeous little girls who looked like they had been playing in the mud all day, and their grandma, who spent the afternoon sat infront of the garden crops brushing her long grey hair away from her face that surely could have told a thousand stories.
At 3pm we still hadn´t eaten lunch, and when mumsy said that it would still be an hour off, Laura and I went to speed things up by helping to prepare the food. I´m not sure if Laura´s potato peeling skills using an old knife instead of an efficiant English peeler actually helped out that much but it was nice to make an effort. It felt so special though, as we sat in their minature stone kitchen with mum giving us big smiles, dad smoking out the entire room building a fire to cook upon and the two girls happily running around outside gathering more wood- it was a surreal treasured moment that will stick with me for a long time to come.
For lunch we were also joined by two other guests staying there, one swiss girl and an old guy with a big character from Berlin (we´re bad at remembering names). We finally all got to eat, though the mountain full of dry rice, dry boiled potato and fried cheese was a bit of an anticlimax.
The four of us were then taken by mum to meet up with the rest of our tour group in order to trek up one of the two high green terraced hills which overlook Amantani. After a slightly breathless one hour climb up narrow streets through farms and stone archways we made it to the top of the hill named pachamama- a beautiful setting, graced with ruins from the Tiahuanaco culture. We stayed there and watched a stunning sunset fall over the sparkling waters of Titicaca before returning back to our family homes.
For the evenings activities we were given a choice to either go to bed or dance at a nearby fiesta. All of us were totally nackered but didn´t want to miss out on anything special, and with the party only lasting one hour we decided to get ready. Our jeans and T-shirt approach weren´t deemed suitable by the family, so we were taken back up to our rooms where our German friend and I were dressed in alpaca hats and snazzy ponchos, but Laura and swiss amiga had to wear layers of thick traditional colourful clothing which must have given them an extra stone in weight. The heavy black vale must have weighed a few pounds alone and it wasn´t the most attractive or comfortable item for a night out dancing. With no disrespect to the islanders, we all looked and felt ridiculous, and all prayed that the other families had dressed up their guests the same or we were in for an embarrasing night.
We arrived to a very dim lit unparty like hall around 90% full of tourists (thankfully adorned in similar clothing) and 10% locals who looked bored to death with having to put on this event on every single night of the week. Even though the evening felt incredibly cringeworthy it didn´t stop us from having a bit of fun taking our mum´s hand for a dance to the pan pipe, charango folkcore melodies onstage. I´m not sure if you could have called it dancing though as all we seemed to do was hold hands and throw eachothers arms back and forth whilst spinning around in a circle clockwise for about five minutes and then anticlockwise for another. With our thick layers on it was some sweaty hard work and we were relieved everytime the band stopped for two minutes. To be really honest we were even more relieved when the fiesta ended so we could all go to sleep. Perhaps if the locals put this evening on once every month instead of every night, painted the grey walls and instaled some light bulbs, then maybe a sense of excitement and atmosphere might arise once in a while- still, it was worth a go!
After some dry pancakes with a stingy pot of jam for breakfast we packed up and said goodbye to the family and got back onboard our boat which then took us over to the island of Taquile. We spent a couple of hours hiking over the plump hills over towards the main plaza where we could view and buy the islanders intricate woven clothes in the textile factory. Our guide explained to us the unique weaving techniques which go back to the Inca, Pukara and Colla civilizations and how that every man here must wear a chullo, a knitted hat with an earflap, in which the colour of it represents if they are single, married or a leader on the island.
Our set lunch of Titicaca trout and chips certainly satisfied my ever present hunger, although Laura´s constantly given overly eggy omellette vege dish is starting to really do her head in. After food we trekked down over 500 knee jarring uneven steps back to the port and set off for our long return journey to the mainland.
By the time we had returned to our warm pad in Puno and slurped down a welcoming tea we were shattered, so sleep naturally followed.
For our last day we took a rather pensioner filled minibus day out to see the extraordinary ruined chullpas of Sillustani. Set high on a plateau surrounded by the shimmering Lake Umayo are the remains of huge funerary towers built by the Colla people who are buried in the fetal position within. These dramatic stone blocks adorned with carvings of snakes and pumas reach up to 12m high and certainly impressed us beyond our expectations. Although engulfed by wrinklies, the afternoon out was well worth it- the amazing scenery was capped with an impressive sky and the ruins really captured our imagination. The short day trip made for a pleasant and interesting end to our enjoyable time in Puno and it was probably the last bit of culture we would take in for the next seven days.
We bid a very fond farewell to our fantastically welcoming and warm hosts at Kusillo´s. We were so grateful for their mothering like kindness that we bought them a box of chocolate biscuits as a thank you- as we handed it over they handed us some chocolate bars to keep us satisfied on the bus trip ahead and made us promise that we would come back with three children. We were sad to say goodbye but were starting to get tingles- a certain Toby Woodfine arrives later for a guranteed week of trouble and mischief in Arequipa.
Three cups fulls later and we headed out to type up the last few blogs of Bolivia and by the time we had finished early evening was setting in. Back at the hostel we had planned to quickly freshen up and set out to find some dinner when our host brought us in another tray of wonder with a hot water bottle for Laura thinking that we were ready for bed- it was only 8pm so we must have looked incredibly tired! We didn´t want to seem rude so snuggled up for an earlier than planned lights out quite satisfied with yet more tea.
To make up for our lack of supper last night the next morning we were given one of the best breakfasts in a long while, with fresh crispy bread, pancakes, juice, coffee and fried eggs. It certainly cheered up Laura who had had another rough night´s sleep with the snore monster, and to my defence I was pleased to finally hear from the mother of the household that it is because of the high altitudes that I am snarling dinosaur noises twice as loud than usual.
Seeing as we had four days here until we needed to leave for Arequipa to meet Toby (our first friend from back home to come and visit us) we spent our first full day in Puno in complete leisure strolling around the streets of the small port town. We bought our last postcards for home which tingled our insides with mixed emotions. As insanely excited as we are to finally return home and see friendly faces the actually reality of this mind blowing trip now ending feels somewhat devastating. For the meantime though we enjoyed just sitting back in our chairs under the blazing gold sunshine eating some delicious llama kebab on scewers drizzled in a red wine sauce (Laura obviously taking the non alpaca option).
Our second day in Puno was far more productive, as we got in a minivan with fourteen others and drove to the port where a boat would take us for a two day voyage around the different islands on Lake Titicaca. Within an hour we had docked at one of the astonishingly unique Uros floating islands inhabited by one of the five families that live there. Almost everything from the Uros people´s homes, puma-headed rafts and spongy floor is made from the totora reeds which sprout up in the waters of the lake. The inside stem of the reed is also used as a source of food, which when eaten helps clean their teeth at the same time- who needs toothpaste! We had a mildly tasty chomp on one whilst our guide demonstrated to us how the artificial islands are built from scratch. We were then shown around the small vicinity of the floating village, looking at the trout filled farm and into the tiny insides of the homes where Laura was chosen to dress up in typical bright pink and luminous green Uros clothing, making her look a bit like a giant lollipop.
There was a slight pressure to buy the locals handmade crafts and after La Paz we really weren´t in a position to spend any more money. We made up for not purchasing anything by paying for a relaxing puma boat taxi ride over to the other fascinating family homes. As we set off, the women on the island all lined up and bid us farewell by cheerfully clapping and singing local traditional songs (and an amusing version of ´row, row, row the boat!´)
About 10 minutes later and we reached our second island that had tame pet flamingoes walking around cheeky grinning teenage girls sat in a circle cooking up something that smelt incredible. They seemed more than happy for me to take a picture of them, although the cutest girl here (all of about 5 years old) was far more shy, and spent her time running away from the camera behind the different reed huts. Despite the high surge of tourists sailing in by the boat load here, with the Uros people naturally taking full advantage attempting to make some extra money by selling their embroidered clothing and crafts, this really was one of the most truly remarkable places we´ve visited.
We contined our journey at a slow boat ride pace over Titicaca to Isla Amantani where we would spend the night with one of the islanders. Once we had arrived we were greeted by a group of identically dressed women wearing black vales and christmas green coloured dresses. We were divided into pairs and sent off with our new mums to their different homes spread across the island. Our family consisted of a friendly cowboy hatted dad, two gorgeous little girls who looked like they had been playing in the mud all day, and their grandma, who spent the afternoon sat infront of the garden crops brushing her long grey hair away from her face that surely could have told a thousand stories.
At 3pm we still hadn´t eaten lunch, and when mumsy said that it would still be an hour off, Laura and I went to speed things up by helping to prepare the food. I´m not sure if Laura´s potato peeling skills using an old knife instead of an efficiant English peeler actually helped out that much but it was nice to make an effort. It felt so special though, as we sat in their minature stone kitchen with mum giving us big smiles, dad smoking out the entire room building a fire to cook upon and the two girls happily running around outside gathering more wood- it was a surreal treasured moment that will stick with me for a long time to come.
For lunch we were also joined by two other guests staying there, one swiss girl and an old guy with a big character from Berlin (we´re bad at remembering names). We finally all got to eat, though the mountain full of dry rice, dry boiled potato and fried cheese was a bit of an anticlimax.
The four of us were then taken by mum to meet up with the rest of our tour group in order to trek up one of the two high green terraced hills which overlook Amantani. After a slightly breathless one hour climb up narrow streets through farms and stone archways we made it to the top of the hill named pachamama- a beautiful setting, graced with ruins from the Tiahuanaco culture. We stayed there and watched a stunning sunset fall over the sparkling waters of Titicaca before returning back to our family homes.
For the evenings activities we were given a choice to either go to bed or dance at a nearby fiesta. All of us were totally nackered but didn´t want to miss out on anything special, and with the party only lasting one hour we decided to get ready. Our jeans and T-shirt approach weren´t deemed suitable by the family, so we were taken back up to our rooms where our German friend and I were dressed in alpaca hats and snazzy ponchos, but Laura and swiss amiga had to wear layers of thick traditional colourful clothing which must have given them an extra stone in weight. The heavy black vale must have weighed a few pounds alone and it wasn´t the most attractive or comfortable item for a night out dancing. With no disrespect to the islanders, we all looked and felt ridiculous, and all prayed that the other families had dressed up their guests the same or we were in for an embarrasing night.
We arrived to a very dim lit unparty like hall around 90% full of tourists (thankfully adorned in similar clothing) and 10% locals who looked bored to death with having to put on this event on every single night of the week. Even though the evening felt incredibly cringeworthy it didn´t stop us from having a bit of fun taking our mum´s hand for a dance to the pan pipe, charango folkcore melodies onstage. I´m not sure if you could have called it dancing though as all we seemed to do was hold hands and throw eachothers arms back and forth whilst spinning around in a circle clockwise for about five minutes and then anticlockwise for another. With our thick layers on it was some sweaty hard work and we were relieved everytime the band stopped for two minutes. To be really honest we were even more relieved when the fiesta ended so we could all go to sleep. Perhaps if the locals put this evening on once every month instead of every night, painted the grey walls and instaled some light bulbs, then maybe a sense of excitement and atmosphere might arise once in a while- still, it was worth a go!
After some dry pancakes with a stingy pot of jam for breakfast we packed up and said goodbye to the family and got back onboard our boat which then took us over to the island of Taquile. We spent a couple of hours hiking over the plump hills over towards the main plaza where we could view and buy the islanders intricate woven clothes in the textile factory. Our guide explained to us the unique weaving techniques which go back to the Inca, Pukara and Colla civilizations and how that every man here must wear a chullo, a knitted hat with an earflap, in which the colour of it represents if they are single, married or a leader on the island.
Our set lunch of Titicaca trout and chips certainly satisfied my ever present hunger, although Laura´s constantly given overly eggy omellette vege dish is starting to really do her head in. After food we trekked down over 500 knee jarring uneven steps back to the port and set off for our long return journey to the mainland.
By the time we had returned to our warm pad in Puno and slurped down a welcoming tea we were shattered, so sleep naturally followed.
For our last day we took a rather pensioner filled minibus day out to see the extraordinary ruined chullpas of Sillustani. Set high on a plateau surrounded by the shimmering Lake Umayo are the remains of huge funerary towers built by the Colla people who are buried in the fetal position within. These dramatic stone blocks adorned with carvings of snakes and pumas reach up to 12m high and certainly impressed us beyond our expectations. Although engulfed by wrinklies, the afternoon out was well worth it- the amazing scenery was capped with an impressive sky and the ruins really captured our imagination. The short day trip made for a pleasant and interesting end to our enjoyable time in Puno and it was probably the last bit of culture we would take in for the next seven days.
We bid a very fond farewell to our fantastically welcoming and warm hosts at Kusillo´s. We were so grateful for their mothering like kindness that we bought them a box of chocolate biscuits as a thank you- as we handed it over they handed us some chocolate bars to keep us satisfied on the bus trip ahead and made us promise that we would come back with three children. We were sad to say goodbye but were starting to get tingles- a certain Toby Woodfine arrives later for a guranteed week of trouble and mischief in Arequipa.
Friday 26 March 2010
Copacabana
Arriving in Copacabana in the early afternoon as the sunlight blazed around the cobbled streets, a cloudless blue sky overhead and the dazzling waters of Lake Titicaca down the small slope to the shore felt like a real holiday destination. The whole town emitted a relaxed vibe that was enhanced by the carnival atmosphere of the local schools´ marching bands that were in procession down the streets for the afternoon. We joined the holiday atmosphere by also laying back and relaxing as the sun streamed down on us- me reading another great book (which seems to render me incapable of focusing until I discover the outcome of the characters) and Blakey fiddling with his charango- not a crude euphemism- his newly acquired 5 string guitar like instrument. Other than enjoying a delicious meal and jug of fresh lemonade in the pretty flower filled garden of our hostel- Blakey sampling the local speciality, trout from the lake- we did little else. We did laugh at the slight idiocy of another traveller who tried to complain about her food because her trout had bones in it (unlike that boneless trout found in European seas I presume).
That evening, down to our last Bolivianos, we realised that there was no ATM here and we would need to head to the bank the next morning. We made do with a cup of coffee and some left over snacks from the bus journey and fell asleep ridiculously early.
The next morning I awoke ridiculously early- something that never fails to make Blakey`s heart sink though thankfully the last few chapters of my book kept me occupied until a reasonable hour (far preferable to me poking him until he wakes up I am told). After a wonder down to the bank to find it wouldn`t open until 2pm we gratefully tucked into our complimentary breakfast and then headed out to explore this picturesque little town. The beautiful white plastered walls of the Moorish cathedral, decorated with turquoise glazed tiles on the large doomed roof stood out fantastically againgst the dark blue sky provided by the high altitude of this place and we enjoyed photographing the prety gardens in the central plaza and alongside interesting sculptures.
Although we had planned a longer trek, our desperation to get money out saw us change our route to climb the looming hills that stood over the city. Although a relatively short trail the steep incline coupled with a lack of oxygen up here gave us quite a work out- we took very small steps and very deep breaths. Almost at the top the path split, leading to two sharp peaks- one with a large monument and religious artefacts overlooking the town, the other a mass of rocks and grassy slopes with views of the countryside. We climbed the latter first- again with a slow and steady approach. At the top we were rewarded with gorgeous views of the lake and more of that peace and quiet that this town holds in abundance. We laid back in the grass and let the breeze blow across our faces as the wispy clouds blew across the sky. It was blissful!
Eventually we decided to tear ourselves away from our little paradise and tackle the other slope. The rocky stones to the summit were interspersed with monuments to deceased village people (not the band) placed in the most picturesque spots. At the top a large monument was adorned with fresh flowers and we had views of the entire town as the school marching bands paraded through the tiny streets (playing the animals went in two by two!). Other than that we saw the lake stretch out around us, disappearing beyond the horizon giving the impression of a vast yet calm ocean. It had been a gorgeous morning and as we crept into the afternoon our stomachs begged us to go downhill.
By the time we arrived at the bank it was already 2.45pm- but rather than find it open we found a massive queue of people sneaking right down the road and the doors still barred. We were the first gringos to join the queue, perching on a doorstep in the hot afternoon sun- scared there might not be enough money to go around! Soon a host of other gringos started to queue behind us, though to our horror the locals all seemed to think they could queue just infront- those sneaky old ladies with their shawls and bowler hats were the worst- many of them just hot footed it straight to the front where a crowd was collecting around the door. It looked like we were going to be here a long time.
Eventually, coming up to 3.30pm the staff decided to show up. The whole crowd of people stood and moved forwards though us gringos stuck to our queueing ettiquette. This was fantastically rewarded when a gun toting security guard led us straight through the doors ahead of the rabble of Boliviano pensioners- suck on that queue jumping grandma!
But we were not done yet! I handed the cashier my card and she put it through the machine. She asked for it agin and tried againd and then turned to the next person telling me my card wasn´t working. We had given away our very last Boliviano to a man collecting on the hill- we had no money and were pretty hungry now. I stood and waited for an answer but the next girl´s card wouldn´t work, or the one after that, and after that again. We were all getting a little worried- people had hostal bills to pay and bus tickets to buy. We knew we had to leave the country the next day or overstay our visa- something we had heard could turn into a buerocratic nightmare. The less than customer friendly cashier started to get in a fluster and after 5 cards from different banks wouldn´t work she shouted at us that it was our banks fault- nothing to do with her. Yeah right, but we had to face it, there was to be no money this afternoon.
As we walked out on to the street we looked at each other in disbelief- how could we be so stupid not to keep an emergency fund? As Blakey´s tummy rumbled a couple of wonderful girls came to our rescue. They trustingly lent us 10 pounds so we could eat that evening and the details of their hotel so we might pay it back the next day. A lot of travellers take the view what comes around goes around, and one of the girls had been left with nothing in Buenos Aires after having her bags robbed so was only too pleased to return the favour that had saved her. We very gratefully set out to pacify our growling stomachs.
We had been at the bank for almost 2 hours of the afternoon so got to a cosy looking restaurant across from our hostel at nearly 5pm. We sat and waited for this well overdue meal when the waitress approached me with what looked like spaghetti piled with steak chunks. I had specified that I was vegetarian but I got Blakey to double check what this was. He nearly retched as he chewed on what seemed to be an extremely foul type of mushroom. After a few attempts I pushed the offensive concoction off my pasta but the stodgy spaghetti was drenched in the sauce. We left without leaving a tip and bought an emergency yoghurt to pacify me!
Although less than an ideal afternoon we had enjoyed our time on Copacabana and were taken with this little town. It seemed to attract a disproportionate number of European hippies but it was beautifully located and managed to retain that tranquility even as things went wrong. We took a final stroll around the market stalls selling brightly woven trousers and Inca style jewellery before I once again fell asleep obscenely early.
Our last morning in town- fingers crossed- required money for a bus ticket- A return trip to the bank saw a far more helpful man, a far more civilised queue and us obtaining the money we needed. We posted the borrowed money through the door of the girls room, bought our bus tickets and said a final goodbye to Bolivia. We both agreed that it had been the most surprising, interesting and enjoyable country in South America so far.
That evening, down to our last Bolivianos, we realised that there was no ATM here and we would need to head to the bank the next morning. We made do with a cup of coffee and some left over snacks from the bus journey and fell asleep ridiculously early.
The next morning I awoke ridiculously early- something that never fails to make Blakey`s heart sink though thankfully the last few chapters of my book kept me occupied until a reasonable hour (far preferable to me poking him until he wakes up I am told). After a wonder down to the bank to find it wouldn`t open until 2pm we gratefully tucked into our complimentary breakfast and then headed out to explore this picturesque little town. The beautiful white plastered walls of the Moorish cathedral, decorated with turquoise glazed tiles on the large doomed roof stood out fantastically againgst the dark blue sky provided by the high altitude of this place and we enjoyed photographing the prety gardens in the central plaza and alongside interesting sculptures.
Although we had planned a longer trek, our desperation to get money out saw us change our route to climb the looming hills that stood over the city. Although a relatively short trail the steep incline coupled with a lack of oxygen up here gave us quite a work out- we took very small steps and very deep breaths. Almost at the top the path split, leading to two sharp peaks- one with a large monument and religious artefacts overlooking the town, the other a mass of rocks and grassy slopes with views of the countryside. We climbed the latter first- again with a slow and steady approach. At the top we were rewarded with gorgeous views of the lake and more of that peace and quiet that this town holds in abundance. We laid back in the grass and let the breeze blow across our faces as the wispy clouds blew across the sky. It was blissful!
Eventually we decided to tear ourselves away from our little paradise and tackle the other slope. The rocky stones to the summit were interspersed with monuments to deceased village people (not the band) placed in the most picturesque spots. At the top a large monument was adorned with fresh flowers and we had views of the entire town as the school marching bands paraded through the tiny streets (playing the animals went in two by two!). Other than that we saw the lake stretch out around us, disappearing beyond the horizon giving the impression of a vast yet calm ocean. It had been a gorgeous morning and as we crept into the afternoon our stomachs begged us to go downhill.
By the time we arrived at the bank it was already 2.45pm- but rather than find it open we found a massive queue of people sneaking right down the road and the doors still barred. We were the first gringos to join the queue, perching on a doorstep in the hot afternoon sun- scared there might not be enough money to go around! Soon a host of other gringos started to queue behind us, though to our horror the locals all seemed to think they could queue just infront- those sneaky old ladies with their shawls and bowler hats were the worst- many of them just hot footed it straight to the front where a crowd was collecting around the door. It looked like we were going to be here a long time.
Eventually, coming up to 3.30pm the staff decided to show up. The whole crowd of people stood and moved forwards though us gringos stuck to our queueing ettiquette. This was fantastically rewarded when a gun toting security guard led us straight through the doors ahead of the rabble of Boliviano pensioners- suck on that queue jumping grandma!
But we were not done yet! I handed the cashier my card and she put it through the machine. She asked for it agin and tried againd and then turned to the next person telling me my card wasn´t working. We had given away our very last Boliviano to a man collecting on the hill- we had no money and were pretty hungry now. I stood and waited for an answer but the next girl´s card wouldn´t work, or the one after that, and after that again. We were all getting a little worried- people had hostal bills to pay and bus tickets to buy. We knew we had to leave the country the next day or overstay our visa- something we had heard could turn into a buerocratic nightmare. The less than customer friendly cashier started to get in a fluster and after 5 cards from different banks wouldn´t work she shouted at us that it was our banks fault- nothing to do with her. Yeah right, but we had to face it, there was to be no money this afternoon.
As we walked out on to the street we looked at each other in disbelief- how could we be so stupid not to keep an emergency fund? As Blakey´s tummy rumbled a couple of wonderful girls came to our rescue. They trustingly lent us 10 pounds so we could eat that evening and the details of their hotel so we might pay it back the next day. A lot of travellers take the view what comes around goes around, and one of the girls had been left with nothing in Buenos Aires after having her bags robbed so was only too pleased to return the favour that had saved her. We very gratefully set out to pacify our growling stomachs.
We had been at the bank for almost 2 hours of the afternoon so got to a cosy looking restaurant across from our hostel at nearly 5pm. We sat and waited for this well overdue meal when the waitress approached me with what looked like spaghetti piled with steak chunks. I had specified that I was vegetarian but I got Blakey to double check what this was. He nearly retched as he chewed on what seemed to be an extremely foul type of mushroom. After a few attempts I pushed the offensive concoction off my pasta but the stodgy spaghetti was drenched in the sauce. We left without leaving a tip and bought an emergency yoghurt to pacify me!
Although less than an ideal afternoon we had enjoyed our time on Copacabana and were taken with this little town. It seemed to attract a disproportionate number of European hippies but it was beautifully located and managed to retain that tranquility even as things went wrong. We took a final stroll around the market stalls selling brightly woven trousers and Inca style jewellery before I once again fell asleep obscenely early.
Our last morning in town- fingers crossed- required money for a bus ticket- A return trip to the bank saw a far more helpful man, a far more civilised queue and us obtaining the money we needed. We posted the borrowed money through the door of the girls room, bought our bus tickets and said a final goodbye to Bolivia. We both agreed that it had been the most surprising, interesting and enjoyable country in South America so far.
Thursday 25 March 2010
La Paz
You woud have thought that traveling on a night bus wouldn´t shock us anymore, but on our journey to La Paz we were in utter disbelief. If an earthquake was a form of transport then we were surely sat in one, with every bolt, nut and screw rattling their way out as the tyres shuddered over the rough terrain constantly ejecting us from our seats as though on a fairground ride in the dark. Laura typically had the one chair on the bus that woudn´t recline from its upright position and to make matters worse we were sat above a heater which fizzled us into crispy bacon. 13 hours on and we were pleased to see the capital coming into view.
La Paz instantly looked stunning with the snow topped Mount Illamani overlooking the stadium-like canyon jammed with buildings all the way up it as far as our eyes coud see. At the bus station we took a taxi to our pre-chosen hotel east of the Prado and were dropped off right in the middle of a road swamped with locals fishing through piles of stacked up clothes colourfully decorating the street. Behind every mound of material were rows of grinning gold teethed women with long plaits dangling from their black bowler hats, wrapped in layers of multicoloured woven ware.
After navigating passed the stalls and traffic that was trying to squeeze through we checked into our hotel. The ony room available was not yet clean so we headed staright back out to find some breakfast. What we found was super cheap and even more filling but our bus journey had still left us feeing quite traumatised. We headed back to the hotel where our bed was ready to crash out in. I instantly fell asleep but somehow Laura managed to stay awake and watch two films in a row on cable. Just as the third movie was about to begin we thought it best to venture out and see what we had actually come to see.
With the altitude here being 3660 metres high and our lungs still trying to adjust we walked slowly around the maze of steep alleyways taking our time to inspect the delights of the Mercado de Brujas- the Witches Market. Amongst the various potions and remedies by far the strangest items were the disturbing dried llama fetuses- something the locals place under the grounds of their newly built homes to bring good fortune. Lucky or not it wasn´t a gift I fancied bringing home to the family and I´m not sure what customs would have said.
Away from the spells led us to some seriously potentially pocket emptying shops. In particular were the fantastic racks of musical instruments on sale, from violins to beautiful sounding charangos, an overflowing supply of brightly patterned yet tasteful Bolivian woven clothes, intriguing masks buried under Inca treasures and shops full of hip decorative ornaments, cushion covers and stylish bed throws that could transform our future London flat into designer heaven. Eitherway we decided not to fork out for anything just yet and return the next day with fresh heads on knowing what we really wanted or needed. It did appear that La Paz was going to be a splendid place to buy presents for back home as long as we could cram everything into our bulging rucksacks.
We spent hours nosing around until Laura´s bladder demanded we return to our room. We aimed to be a few minutes before we headed out again but our lack of sleep got the better of us. After a very lazy dinner of jelly and a chocolate wafer we were out like a light.
The followng morning Laura woke me at some ungodly hour saying she couldn´t sleep and was ready for breakfast and a days worth of shopping. An hour later after reviving myself on some good grub I too was eager to hunt back through yesterdays market gems. By lunchtime we had done incredibly well with our arms weighed down with bags full of goodies. Over an absurdly cheap three course meal that cost us 3 pounds each (I tried llama meat- bloody good it was) we discussed a few items that we´d spotted in the shops that we fancied for ourselves. We knew we were unable to resist and decided to trash our budget for the month. Laura had eyed up a rather modest warm hoodie for a tenner, but I had fallen for an electric charango which cost 160 pounds!! Knowing this would be my ony opportunity to buy one or have to shell out three times the price at home we decided to ruddy well go for it. However, when we returned to the shop it had shut and wasn´t going to reopen until we had caught a bus out of here. For some reason this spurred us on and we spent the next couple of hours trawling the other music shops, determined to find something just as perfect. Thankfully we found something even better, and for 40 pounds less- that night on my bed I was more than a little excited to have an instrument in my hands after 8 months on air guitar and knee tapping. I slept a happy boy.
An even earlier start the following morning saw us on a bus with no breakfast (as no where had yet opened) heading to Bolivia´s most significant archaeological site- Tiahuanaco. Whether it was the lack of food or caffeine I don´t know, but our heads felt like melted cheese covered in gravy. Before seeing the ceremonial site we were taken around two museums, taken around painfully slowly that is with our enthusiastic guide Fred stopping outside each cabinet to explain every content with his thick accent. We only managed to understand one word in every three and every time he spoke he would curl his flared nostrils into the air and lengthen his teeth rather like a donkey. He really was trying his best and used his body parts to full potential crawling on his hands and knees, doing karate chops, taking off clothes and wrapping them around himself like a mummy but it was all a bit too much this early in the morning for what was clearly a set of very tired travellers with rumbling tummies. Another annoyance was that he kept saying we could go off and have ten minutes to take photos but then instantly gather everyone for another lecture, it went on and non. Laura was getting even more frustrated with two German men rapidly chomping on their chewing gum like they hadn´t eaten in days.
Our guide finally took us outside to the main site which was far more interesting than the museum but still managed to fall under our most boring tour on this trip. We hated being so uninterested in something so important in Bolivia´s culture but compared to what we have seen already it didn´t come close. The terraced buildings that had been unearthed gave a glimpse of the past life, as did the sun gate and some fascinating totems depicting priests or leaders from the time- but we saw it all with 10 others also stood around, straining to understand Fred and a hot sun beating down on us- what a shame we hadn´t come here on our own so that the figures might have intrigued us more and the lack of chomping Germans would have given our imaginations more to think about.
None the less, we enjoyed our time in La Paz. It didn´t overwhelm us the same way other places in Bolivia have but it was a pleasant stop made all the more enjoyable by the Christmas shopping like expedition that has made us even more excited to see everyone´s faces soon.
La Paz instantly looked stunning with the snow topped Mount Illamani overlooking the stadium-like canyon jammed with buildings all the way up it as far as our eyes coud see. At the bus station we took a taxi to our pre-chosen hotel east of the Prado and were dropped off right in the middle of a road swamped with locals fishing through piles of stacked up clothes colourfully decorating the street. Behind every mound of material were rows of grinning gold teethed women with long plaits dangling from their black bowler hats, wrapped in layers of multicoloured woven ware.
After navigating passed the stalls and traffic that was trying to squeeze through we checked into our hotel. The ony room available was not yet clean so we headed staright back out to find some breakfast. What we found was super cheap and even more filling but our bus journey had still left us feeing quite traumatised. We headed back to the hotel where our bed was ready to crash out in. I instantly fell asleep but somehow Laura managed to stay awake and watch two films in a row on cable. Just as the third movie was about to begin we thought it best to venture out and see what we had actually come to see.
With the altitude here being 3660 metres high and our lungs still trying to adjust we walked slowly around the maze of steep alleyways taking our time to inspect the delights of the Mercado de Brujas- the Witches Market. Amongst the various potions and remedies by far the strangest items were the disturbing dried llama fetuses- something the locals place under the grounds of their newly built homes to bring good fortune. Lucky or not it wasn´t a gift I fancied bringing home to the family and I´m not sure what customs would have said.
Away from the spells led us to some seriously potentially pocket emptying shops. In particular were the fantastic racks of musical instruments on sale, from violins to beautiful sounding charangos, an overflowing supply of brightly patterned yet tasteful Bolivian woven clothes, intriguing masks buried under Inca treasures and shops full of hip decorative ornaments, cushion covers and stylish bed throws that could transform our future London flat into designer heaven. Eitherway we decided not to fork out for anything just yet and return the next day with fresh heads on knowing what we really wanted or needed. It did appear that La Paz was going to be a splendid place to buy presents for back home as long as we could cram everything into our bulging rucksacks.
We spent hours nosing around until Laura´s bladder demanded we return to our room. We aimed to be a few minutes before we headed out again but our lack of sleep got the better of us. After a very lazy dinner of jelly and a chocolate wafer we were out like a light.
The followng morning Laura woke me at some ungodly hour saying she couldn´t sleep and was ready for breakfast and a days worth of shopping. An hour later after reviving myself on some good grub I too was eager to hunt back through yesterdays market gems. By lunchtime we had done incredibly well with our arms weighed down with bags full of goodies. Over an absurdly cheap three course meal that cost us 3 pounds each (I tried llama meat- bloody good it was) we discussed a few items that we´d spotted in the shops that we fancied for ourselves. We knew we were unable to resist and decided to trash our budget for the month. Laura had eyed up a rather modest warm hoodie for a tenner, but I had fallen for an electric charango which cost 160 pounds!! Knowing this would be my ony opportunity to buy one or have to shell out three times the price at home we decided to ruddy well go for it. However, when we returned to the shop it had shut and wasn´t going to reopen until we had caught a bus out of here. For some reason this spurred us on and we spent the next couple of hours trawling the other music shops, determined to find something just as perfect. Thankfully we found something even better, and for 40 pounds less- that night on my bed I was more than a little excited to have an instrument in my hands after 8 months on air guitar and knee tapping. I slept a happy boy.
An even earlier start the following morning saw us on a bus with no breakfast (as no where had yet opened) heading to Bolivia´s most significant archaeological site- Tiahuanaco. Whether it was the lack of food or caffeine I don´t know, but our heads felt like melted cheese covered in gravy. Before seeing the ceremonial site we were taken around two museums, taken around painfully slowly that is with our enthusiastic guide Fred stopping outside each cabinet to explain every content with his thick accent. We only managed to understand one word in every three and every time he spoke he would curl his flared nostrils into the air and lengthen his teeth rather like a donkey. He really was trying his best and used his body parts to full potential crawling on his hands and knees, doing karate chops, taking off clothes and wrapping them around himself like a mummy but it was all a bit too much this early in the morning for what was clearly a set of very tired travellers with rumbling tummies. Another annoyance was that he kept saying we could go off and have ten minutes to take photos but then instantly gather everyone for another lecture, it went on and non. Laura was getting even more frustrated with two German men rapidly chomping on their chewing gum like they hadn´t eaten in days.
Our guide finally took us outside to the main site which was far more interesting than the museum but still managed to fall under our most boring tour on this trip. We hated being so uninterested in something so important in Bolivia´s culture but compared to what we have seen already it didn´t come close. The terraced buildings that had been unearthed gave a glimpse of the past life, as did the sun gate and some fascinating totems depicting priests or leaders from the time- but we saw it all with 10 others also stood around, straining to understand Fred and a hot sun beating down on us- what a shame we hadn´t come here on our own so that the figures might have intrigued us more and the lack of chomping Germans would have given our imaginations more to think about.
None the less, we enjoyed our time in La Paz. It didn´t overwhelm us the same way other places in Bolivia have but it was a pleasant stop made all the more enjoyable by the Christmas shopping like expedition that has made us even more excited to see everyone´s faces soon.
Saturday 20 March 2010
Salt Plains
Our adventure in Tupiza started with a nightmare night bus. Feeling jammy after rocking up to the station and securing the last two tickets we soon found ourselves crammed into the extremely upright chairs of trhe back row, surrounded by sleeping children piled down the central aisle (with the exception of the kid with light up trainers- he chose to stamp his feet for the entire night rather than sleep, treating us all to an ongoing disco). Luckily for everyone else their chairs would recline to extremes- leaving us literally pinned to our seats. It is no exaggeration to say that the guys in front of us actually stopped he blood flow to our legs- we were continuously wiggling our toes in a failed bid to counteract the constant pins and needles we were suffering. Add to that an extremely bumpy road, knackered suspension and a 4am arrival and you have two ruined travellers.
We rolled up to La Torre Hostal on a recommendation from a couple in Potosi and were soon to be extremely glad for it. After a brief sit on the doorstep a gentleman led us inside to the comfy sofa of the dinig room where we promptly fell sleep until 7.30am when the hotel guests started to surface for their breakfasts (presumably somewhat put off by the pair of hobos sprawled and snoring in the corner!) At this time the extraordinarily efficient hostess gave us a free breakfast whilst we waited for our room to be cleaned and then talked us through the tour options available for us- the reason we had come to this hostel. By 9am we had been to the bank and planned the next six days- it was definately time to sleep! We flung ourselves into the crisp clean sheets and dozed soundly. When I woke up refreshed to a snoring Blakey I stared blankly at the cable TV whilst waiting for him to resurface.
By the end of the day we had wandered around the quiet dusty streets of the little town, eaten in a very slow restaurant (20 minutes after placing our order the waiter left and returned a while later with half the ingredients needed for our meal) and crashed out in bed again. Oter than answering a knock at the door from another English couple considering joining us on the salt plains (obviously checking out whether they could put up with us for four days!!) the nightmare journey here had rendered us completely incapable of activity.
The following morning was suitably slow and after a brief phonecall home (the only Mother´s day gift I could afford this year) and a further painfully slow restauarant meal we were to head out on horseback into the surrounding countryside. We soon found we were to be accompanied by Nina and Paul, the couple that had now decided to join us on the salt plains tour despite having seen us both in an unattractive state of undress and slobbering tiredness the previous night, and we all set out amicably into the bright sunshine of the afternoon.
After being handed authentic looking cowboy hats some huge horses were bought out for us- not what you expect for a novice horse trek as these powerful looking creatures were pretty full of beans!! Mounted and holding on tight we started the trot along the railway tracks to the edge of town- the horses soon letting us know we had little control! They stopped to chomp on grass and chose their own path regularly until the guide had hissed through his teeth long enough that they would slowly conform to his orders- rarely ours though!! Still, each moment that passed saw our confidence grow and we were all starting to enjoy ourselves.
The enjoyment increased massively when we reached the countryside. The amazing huge rock formations around here are technically known as badlands- a cactus strewn desert interspersed with huge red rock edifaces- it looked like a movie set it was so cliched. First we saw what looked like a giant jagged wall with a large gap through the middle- if a set designer had copìed it I would have asked them to create something more realistic! Then we came to the Piedras del Macho- extremely phallic shaped "man stones" and on to the atmospheric Canyon del Inca where we dismounted and explored a little way on foot. By this point it was clear we were going to get along with the other couple- they were fantastically laid back and just as scathing as us about try-hard travellers- great!!
After a long and satisfying afternoon the return journey with the horses saw a few spurts of energy as they broke into quick, bouncing trots that saw us all cling on a little tighter, hats fly off our heads and smiles spread across our faces. What a bunch of cowboys and what a brilliant afternoon!
Unfortunately the great afternoon came at a price. Not having taken antihistamines this time, when we returned to our room Blakey was rasping for breath- it was pretty scary listening to him. I felt utterly helpless laying next to him with nothing to offer that might ease it- then I truly did become utterly helpless as I pulled my old puking trick. We were both a state and getting quite nervous about heading off the next morning.
By the time we woke I was feeling a little better and headed out to get Blakey some emergency antihistamines and us some money for the journey. After queuing for ages at a bank, knowing I was already late for our pick up, I managed to ask for 5 pounds instead of 50- whoops! Still, it was all inclusive so that was going to have to do. As I rushed back it was clear the other couple were in a similar state to us- Paul had been kept up with agonising tooth ache and had spent the morning in a rushed visit to the dentist whilst Nina flicked through her translations dictionary to try and work out what was wrong with him. We had all considered postponing hte trip, but finding we were all as bad as each other we knew we could take it easy and headed out to our home for the next four days- the jeep.
We were quickly introduced to our driver- Carlos and our cook, his wife- Esperanza. Over the next four days we would come to love this couple- they looked after us so well. Carlos had a wicked sense of humour (he was extremely interested to find out how many women musicians get in England) and a great love of Michael Jackson. After listening to the greatest hits album on Nina´s iPod for far too long we tried to change to an alternative- unfortunately for us he spotted Shakira- our next soundtrack. Whilst he was bobbing his head along to the music we all discovered he would far rather be watching than listening to her, but the smile on his face let us know his imagination was doing a pretty good job!
Esperanza was much quieter and very kind. As our cook she won all of our hearts- her vegetable soup became legendary! Each meal she served was huge but really wholesome with a fantastic veggie option for me. Everyday we ate until utterly full though all the fruit and veg meant we felt satisfied rather than guilty- it was a real treat. En route she kept the smiles on our faces with lollypops and biscuits- like having a mum for the road!
So we set off with a jeep full of instantly likeable people- thank goodness- we were to be in each others company for the next four days straight! Many people head off to the salt flats from Uyuni but the tip we received recommending heading from Tupiza was well worth it- offering a full extra day of sights. The first day of driving took us far deeper into the dramatic badlands with amazing red stones and sweeping valleys. It is going to be difficult to come up with enough adjectives to describe "picturesque" or "beautiful" in relation to each sight we saw- but we were all spellbound. We climbed higer and higher into the mountains- the majority of our trip being between 4000 and 5000 metres above sea level (which saw us stuffing icky tasting coca leaves into the the sides of our cheeks, a habit that leaves the teeth and lips covered in green bits!) and took over a hundred pictures each day. On the first night we ended up a little mud hut with a four bed dorm in what seemed like the middle of nowhere. We sat around a table of tea and crackers with Nina and Paul and enthusiastically reflected on how lucky we had been so far- great sights and great guides- whilst the village children pleaded with their long eyelashes and chubby cheeks for some of our crackers. Only too happy to oblige we passed the plates to them for them to stuff great handfuls in their pockets, leave the room and come back pretending to be someone new! It kept us entertained but after they each had enough to construct a small shelter we took the remainder back to Esperanza- she must have thought our appetites were huge!
That night on a mountain top in the middle of nowhere we went outside to se the stars. Needless to say the cloudless, lightless atmosphere led to a spectacular night sky. Dressed in hundreds of layers we stayed out as long as we could but soon sought the warmth of our sleeping bags. It wasn´t hard to doze off quickly.
The next two days saw more of the same- the landscape forever changing and offering magnificant sights. Now we were getting into the lakes territory where huge pools in a range of different colours harboured a wealth of minerals. The minerals bought flocks of beautiful flamingoes to their shores which saw all of us trying to sneak through grotesque looking mud shores in a bid to get a decent close up shot- an activity which saw the flamingoes slowly sneak to the middle of the lake each time! Still, it wasn´t hard to frame some stonking pictures (if I do say so myself!) when the lakes were bright white, turquoise or my favourite, Lago Colorado- red like tomato soup! Seeing that lake as the sun rose was a real highlight- the surounding mountains reflected in perfect symmetry in the still surface of the water, flamingoes stalking through and the colour becoming more intense as the sun ascended.
Another highlight over these two days was our arrival at a hot spring- 4000 metres high yet surrounded by higher volcanoes and mountains of the Andes. We were allowed to bath in the perfectly temperate waters with the sweeping plains, vicuñas chomping on th sparse shrubs and birds flying in the clear blue skies- it was pure luxury and we had the place to ourselves. We would have been reluctant to ever get out if it weren´t for the fact that Esperanza was whipping up yet another delicious meal whilst we indulged.
The highest point we came to at 5000 metres above sea level was the geysers at the top of our trail. A smoking landscape of otherwordly holes omitting a sulphury stench as mud boiled and bubbled in the deep caverns. It was not the first time we felt we could be on a Star Wars set.
By the third night we had reached the edge of the salt plains- the only sight we had heard about in advance- the amazing lakes, springs, volcanoes, deserts and rock formations had been a fantastic surprise! This night we were staying in a salt hotel- a building made entirely of the white stuff giving everything a bright and clean glow. It was easy to enjoy our last dinner together gossiping about all we had done and giving opinionated views of other tour groups-needless to say ours was preferable!
So the next morning offered our grand finale- the salt plains themsleves. Another early start saw us driving through the dark over this long, flat expanse. As the sun started to creep over the horizon it was like waking up to find snow- everything we could see was pure white. By the time the sun was showing in full we couldn´t wait any longer- we stopped the jeep and got out to play around.
After a number of silly pictures we continued a little further to a coral island- a rememnant from when this was a huge inland sea. The island was covered in humoungous cacti- some were over a thousand years old-and after a brief but tiring climb allowed views to show how huge this expenase was- it was massive! Whilst we were happy to snap away by the time we descended we were more than ready for Esperanza´s delicious breakfast- as was the emu trying to steal things from our table!
The tour finished with a drive to a spot in the middle and some silly pictures. It is becoming a tradition for travellers to do silly things with perspective here- a task a little trickier than we anticipated but stilll a lot of fun! We were sad when it was all over and after a final meal we had to pack up for the short drive to the town of Uyuni where we were to be dropped off. It had been a brilliant four days awith a brilliant four people and we weren´t quite ready to say goodbye.
We rolled up to La Torre Hostal on a recommendation from a couple in Potosi and were soon to be extremely glad for it. After a brief sit on the doorstep a gentleman led us inside to the comfy sofa of the dinig room where we promptly fell sleep until 7.30am when the hotel guests started to surface for their breakfasts (presumably somewhat put off by the pair of hobos sprawled and snoring in the corner!) At this time the extraordinarily efficient hostess gave us a free breakfast whilst we waited for our room to be cleaned and then talked us through the tour options available for us- the reason we had come to this hostel. By 9am we had been to the bank and planned the next six days- it was definately time to sleep! We flung ourselves into the crisp clean sheets and dozed soundly. When I woke up refreshed to a snoring Blakey I stared blankly at the cable TV whilst waiting for him to resurface.
By the end of the day we had wandered around the quiet dusty streets of the little town, eaten in a very slow restaurant (20 minutes after placing our order the waiter left and returned a while later with half the ingredients needed for our meal) and crashed out in bed again. Oter than answering a knock at the door from another English couple considering joining us on the salt plains (obviously checking out whether they could put up with us for four days!!) the nightmare journey here had rendered us completely incapable of activity.
The following morning was suitably slow and after a brief phonecall home (the only Mother´s day gift I could afford this year) and a further painfully slow restauarant meal we were to head out on horseback into the surrounding countryside. We soon found we were to be accompanied by Nina and Paul, the couple that had now decided to join us on the salt plains tour despite having seen us both in an unattractive state of undress and slobbering tiredness the previous night, and we all set out amicably into the bright sunshine of the afternoon.
After being handed authentic looking cowboy hats some huge horses were bought out for us- not what you expect for a novice horse trek as these powerful looking creatures were pretty full of beans!! Mounted and holding on tight we started the trot along the railway tracks to the edge of town- the horses soon letting us know we had little control! They stopped to chomp on grass and chose their own path regularly until the guide had hissed through his teeth long enough that they would slowly conform to his orders- rarely ours though!! Still, each moment that passed saw our confidence grow and we were all starting to enjoy ourselves.
The enjoyment increased massively when we reached the countryside. The amazing huge rock formations around here are technically known as badlands- a cactus strewn desert interspersed with huge red rock edifaces- it looked like a movie set it was so cliched. First we saw what looked like a giant jagged wall with a large gap through the middle- if a set designer had copìed it I would have asked them to create something more realistic! Then we came to the Piedras del Macho- extremely phallic shaped "man stones" and on to the atmospheric Canyon del Inca where we dismounted and explored a little way on foot. By this point it was clear we were going to get along with the other couple- they were fantastically laid back and just as scathing as us about try-hard travellers- great!!
After a long and satisfying afternoon the return journey with the horses saw a few spurts of energy as they broke into quick, bouncing trots that saw us all cling on a little tighter, hats fly off our heads and smiles spread across our faces. What a bunch of cowboys and what a brilliant afternoon!
Unfortunately the great afternoon came at a price. Not having taken antihistamines this time, when we returned to our room Blakey was rasping for breath- it was pretty scary listening to him. I felt utterly helpless laying next to him with nothing to offer that might ease it- then I truly did become utterly helpless as I pulled my old puking trick. We were both a state and getting quite nervous about heading off the next morning.
By the time we woke I was feeling a little better and headed out to get Blakey some emergency antihistamines and us some money for the journey. After queuing for ages at a bank, knowing I was already late for our pick up, I managed to ask for 5 pounds instead of 50- whoops! Still, it was all inclusive so that was going to have to do. As I rushed back it was clear the other couple were in a similar state to us- Paul had been kept up with agonising tooth ache and had spent the morning in a rushed visit to the dentist whilst Nina flicked through her translations dictionary to try and work out what was wrong with him. We had all considered postponing hte trip, but finding we were all as bad as each other we knew we could take it easy and headed out to our home for the next four days- the jeep.
We were quickly introduced to our driver- Carlos and our cook, his wife- Esperanza. Over the next four days we would come to love this couple- they looked after us so well. Carlos had a wicked sense of humour (he was extremely interested to find out how many women musicians get in England) and a great love of Michael Jackson. After listening to the greatest hits album on Nina´s iPod for far too long we tried to change to an alternative- unfortunately for us he spotted Shakira- our next soundtrack. Whilst he was bobbing his head along to the music we all discovered he would far rather be watching than listening to her, but the smile on his face let us know his imagination was doing a pretty good job!
Esperanza was much quieter and very kind. As our cook she won all of our hearts- her vegetable soup became legendary! Each meal she served was huge but really wholesome with a fantastic veggie option for me. Everyday we ate until utterly full though all the fruit and veg meant we felt satisfied rather than guilty- it was a real treat. En route she kept the smiles on our faces with lollypops and biscuits- like having a mum for the road!
So we set off with a jeep full of instantly likeable people- thank goodness- we were to be in each others company for the next four days straight! Many people head off to the salt flats from Uyuni but the tip we received recommending heading from Tupiza was well worth it- offering a full extra day of sights. The first day of driving took us far deeper into the dramatic badlands with amazing red stones and sweeping valleys. It is going to be difficult to come up with enough adjectives to describe "picturesque" or "beautiful" in relation to each sight we saw- but we were all spellbound. We climbed higer and higher into the mountains- the majority of our trip being between 4000 and 5000 metres above sea level (which saw us stuffing icky tasting coca leaves into the the sides of our cheeks, a habit that leaves the teeth and lips covered in green bits!) and took over a hundred pictures each day. On the first night we ended up a little mud hut with a four bed dorm in what seemed like the middle of nowhere. We sat around a table of tea and crackers with Nina and Paul and enthusiastically reflected on how lucky we had been so far- great sights and great guides- whilst the village children pleaded with their long eyelashes and chubby cheeks for some of our crackers. Only too happy to oblige we passed the plates to them for them to stuff great handfuls in their pockets, leave the room and come back pretending to be someone new! It kept us entertained but after they each had enough to construct a small shelter we took the remainder back to Esperanza- she must have thought our appetites were huge!
That night on a mountain top in the middle of nowhere we went outside to se the stars. Needless to say the cloudless, lightless atmosphere led to a spectacular night sky. Dressed in hundreds of layers we stayed out as long as we could but soon sought the warmth of our sleeping bags. It wasn´t hard to doze off quickly.
The next two days saw more of the same- the landscape forever changing and offering magnificant sights. Now we were getting into the lakes territory where huge pools in a range of different colours harboured a wealth of minerals. The minerals bought flocks of beautiful flamingoes to their shores which saw all of us trying to sneak through grotesque looking mud shores in a bid to get a decent close up shot- an activity which saw the flamingoes slowly sneak to the middle of the lake each time! Still, it wasn´t hard to frame some stonking pictures (if I do say so myself!) when the lakes were bright white, turquoise or my favourite, Lago Colorado- red like tomato soup! Seeing that lake as the sun rose was a real highlight- the surounding mountains reflected in perfect symmetry in the still surface of the water, flamingoes stalking through and the colour becoming more intense as the sun ascended.
Another highlight over these two days was our arrival at a hot spring- 4000 metres high yet surrounded by higher volcanoes and mountains of the Andes. We were allowed to bath in the perfectly temperate waters with the sweeping plains, vicuñas chomping on th sparse shrubs and birds flying in the clear blue skies- it was pure luxury and we had the place to ourselves. We would have been reluctant to ever get out if it weren´t for the fact that Esperanza was whipping up yet another delicious meal whilst we indulged.
The highest point we came to at 5000 metres above sea level was the geysers at the top of our trail. A smoking landscape of otherwordly holes omitting a sulphury stench as mud boiled and bubbled in the deep caverns. It was not the first time we felt we could be on a Star Wars set.
By the third night we had reached the edge of the salt plains- the only sight we had heard about in advance- the amazing lakes, springs, volcanoes, deserts and rock formations had been a fantastic surprise! This night we were staying in a salt hotel- a building made entirely of the white stuff giving everything a bright and clean glow. It was easy to enjoy our last dinner together gossiping about all we had done and giving opinionated views of other tour groups-needless to say ours was preferable!
So the next morning offered our grand finale- the salt plains themsleves. Another early start saw us driving through the dark over this long, flat expanse. As the sun started to creep over the horizon it was like waking up to find snow- everything we could see was pure white. By the time the sun was showing in full we couldn´t wait any longer- we stopped the jeep and got out to play around.
After a number of silly pictures we continued a little further to a coral island- a rememnant from when this was a huge inland sea. The island was covered in humoungous cacti- some were over a thousand years old-and after a brief but tiring climb allowed views to show how huge this expenase was- it was massive! Whilst we were happy to snap away by the time we descended we were more than ready for Esperanza´s delicious breakfast- as was the emu trying to steal things from our table!
The tour finished with a drive to a spot in the middle and some silly pictures. It is becoming a tradition for travellers to do silly things with perspective here- a task a little trickier than we anticipated but stilll a lot of fun! We were sad when it was all over and after a final meal we had to pack up for the short drive to the town of Uyuni where we were to be dropped off. It had been a brilliant four days awith a brilliant four people and we weren´t quite ready to say goodbye.
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