Can I get a Woot Woot?: The End of an Era

Hello there.

I would like you ALL to please do yourself a favour and click on the following link.

It will change your life on this earth forever (or just the next 3 minutes).

http://myadventuresandcake.com/

Thank you for your time.

This is why we travel

I am back from the Jungle Inca Trail and will now blog about it accordingly. Well actually I got back from it a few days ago and am now in Mancora and the post has been sitting half-finished since Cusco. But I have now come back to my hostel after having several after-lunch beach side cocktails with a chick I met from Kurdistan and decided that now was as good a time as any to hit this bitch on the head (the post, not the Kurdistani.)

The trek was to take 3 nights and 4 days and I ended up in a fabulous group of people comprised of a lovely English girl, a sweet young couple from Texas, 2 precious English public school boy brothers who I wanted to put in a blender on high and spread on a cracker and an adorable teenager, also from Texas and his hot dad. We all started bonding about 3 seconds after getting into the bus. And this bonding continued when we got stuck in the snow about 3 hours later, had to push our bus on and off for several kilometres and then eventually had to get out and carry on on foot, in what can possibly be described as a mild blizzard.

Good times were not had by all.

The plan for the first day had been to travel by bus up to Abra Malaga, to 4350m, where we would get on to mountain bikes and weeeeeeee down the mountain. But the weather took this plan and stomped on its face. With steel capped boots.

Because after several hours of pushing the bus through the snow and after seeing droves of people walking down from the other side of the mountain, we realised that we weren’t going to be going anywhere in the bus or on our bikes and we all made the decision to get out and walk.

I must admit I got slightly hysterical when we had to take refuge in a random church at one point, to get out of the stinging snow. My imagination ran away with me and I pictured sleeping the night in the freezing church or worse carrying on and having to bury into the snow if the weather deteriorated. I even went so far as to decide that as Landon was the youngest at 13, it would only be right to put him on the bottom of the snow hole we were going to dig to shield ourselves from the cold, and as I was the third oldest I was going to have to be somewhere near the top. And the possibility of me losing at least some fingers and the odd toe or thigh muscle was high. But I mentally slapped myself, said a little prayer (we were in a church after all) and put my game face on. I wasn’t the only one entertaining morbid thoughts. Chatting to some of the group after the fact, everyone had had their own little scenarios playing in their brains – some more dramatic than others. Well that was the girls, because all the boys were thinking was: What would Bear Grylls do?

The trudging.

At one stage, while walking down the hill in the freezing rain, just as it was getting dark, one of the guys shouted “This is why we travel!” and it stuck in my brain and I have been thinking about it a bit.

We obviously don’t go looking for trouble when travelling but it’s during times like that, when we really just want to collapse in a heap and rock in the foetal position but instead keep on going, putting one foot in front of the other, that we learn what we are made of. My word – that last bit was dramatic! I must say that being a drama queen is a skill that can’t just be learned! And now I am going to sound like a complete wanker because I am actually going to quote something to better illustrate my point. (Please try not to vomit in your mouths.) There was a quote on a plaque at the eco village I volunteered at that went a little something like this: “The ship of the soul is in more danger in the calm of pleasures than in the storm of adversity.” Basically. Shit got real. And it was character building.

Anyway, a bus eventually picked us sodden lot up, after a great deal of traipsing on the road in the dark and took us the rest of the way to our hostel. Our poor original bus driver, Fernando wasn’t so lucky and didn’t manage to get his bus back to Cusco. He spent the night in the cold bus, stuck on the mountain in the snow, with zero food and not much to drink, the poor sausage.

The rest of the trip was all pink fairies and unicorn babies after that.

The second day we hiked for what felt like a million kilometres, quite a bit of it in the rain. At the beginning of the day, our guide came across a certain fruit that the people in the area used to use for war paint, amongst other things, and we all got our war paint on. And when I started feeling wet and a little peeved at all the rain that was falling on my head, all I had to do was have a look at the person next to me and I would have a giggle at how ridiculous they looked. We had all also purchased plastic ponchos at the start of the trip, which came in very handy in the rain. Everyone had different colours – pink, purple, green, yellow etc. To passers-by we must have looked like a travelling freak show - with our painted faces and colourful garb.

Unfortunately, because we had started a little later than expected that second day, we ended up on the last part in the dark, trying to traverse our way over slippery rocks next to a raging river – with about one head torch between us, which was hairy. But then we arrived at our destination, the magical hot springs. And we celebrated not dying for a second day in a row with cold beers, while soaking in the hot water and discussing the gun laws in the States. That night we stayed at this awesome eco lodge in Santa Teresa, where we had an amazing meal, a hot shower and we crashed hard.

The next day we got up early and headed down the road to experience some zip wiring awesomeness. Everyone got strapped into a harness and marched up the hill to unleash our inner James Bonds. I have done zip wiring before but this was extra cool. Because instead of doing it just once, we zip wired down 6 separate lines, pretty much one after the other until we got almost to the foot of the hill. After this, a bus took us to the hydro electric plant in the area and we carried on our trek to Aguas Calientes, where we would stay the night.

The next day we got up at 3.30 in the morning and walked to the Machu Picchu gate at the bottom of the hill, to wait for it to open at 4.45. It took me about an hour to walk up the 1816 steps to the gates to Machu Picchu, panting like a herd of buffalo the whole time. The reason we had got up so early was to witness the sunrise over Machu Picchu. However it was not to be on account of the mist. But it was still really special being up there at the crack of. And instead of getting through the front gates and seeing everything Machu Picchu had to offer one time, it kept us a little in suspense and only slowly revealed itself to us throughout the day.

Our guide took us on a tour around the ruins and then left us to slog up to Wayna Picchu. A smidgeon of trivia for y’all (I learnt y’all from the Texans and I adore it): Machu Picchu means ‘Old Peak’ and Wayna Picchu means ‘Young Peak’ in Quechua. Anyway by the time the panting herd of buffalos got to the top of Wayna Picchu, the mist had cleared and I could see forever. So although I had promised my knees I was going to give them a rest after my early morning exertions I am glad I lied and did it anyway.

Machu Picchu Montage

'Twas like we were up in the clouds.

Amazing. Innit?!

View of Machu Picchu from the top of Wayna Picchu



The money shot.
(That's Wayna Picchu in the background. Yes that is what I climbed thank you very much.)



In short, because I have run out of oomph and need a post-boozing nap - the whole thing was one of the best things I have done since the start of my trip. Wouldn’t change a thing!

The End.

The Village of Happiness

Below you will find the day by day account of my time at the village of happiness (not its actual name mind).

Day 1:

I arrived at the village with very little fanfare. I met some of the devotees and 2 English girls who were already volunteering there and who were to become my besties for the next week. 
In terms of people, the village is divided up into:

Devotees: They stay for free it appears. They chant a lot and wear a great deal of orange and the males have rat tails at the back of their heads.

Workers: They get paid and actually look like they do some work.

Volunteers: These suckers PAY to work at the village, while hopefully being converted to vegetarianism.

Highlight: Making bread.

Lowlight: Being told that I have an Australian accent

Day 2:

I did some light yoga in the morning, followed by some heavy weeding of the sweet potato patch for several hours before lunch. In the afternoon a few more people arrived to join our volunteering happy family. We even attempted a sing-a-long to a guitar and ukulele combo in the evening (before our dinner of a dry sweet potato and piece of corn bread). Everyone agreed that I had the voice of an angel and kept asking me for encores. It was embarrassing.

Highlight: Fleeing the coop for a few hours to the town down the road and eating ice-cream.

Lowlight: Dinner.

Day 3:

Yoga in the morning to welcome in the new day!

Highlight: The art workshop in the afternoon, which involved drawing the other volunteers in various poses. I remember winning an art prize in like Grade 5. Not sure what has happened to all that raw talent as I was completely rubbish at the drawing. But it was still fun and we had a lot of laughs.

Lowlight: Cleaning out the shitters. The village only uses ecological toilets which are basically large buckets with lids on. One performs ones business and one then covers said business with a layer of saw dust. We had to empty the contents of the buckets into the massive shit pile at the back of the farm and wash the buckets out. To be fair not the worst thing I have ever done in my life.

Day 4:

Too lazy to get up for yoga.

Decided to go to the evening session of temple. I spent most of my time chanting and learnt a bit about the religion. Unfortunately though I can’t get a particular chant out of my head as it is quite catchy and I found myself chanting it wherever I went. I even chanted it to a shop keeper in the town to his surprise. Brainwashed much??

Highlight: The theatre workshop in the afternoon. The village has a small stage in a field where a horse is tethered. This poor horse was treated to an alarmingly bad display of theatrics. One of the devotees in his past life used to work in the theatre and he led a session in which we all had to create several characters. This pretty much involved charging around the stage shouting and screaming and walking funny like. It was highly amusing.

Lowlight: Painting the path stones white. Roo and I volunteered to do this because we thought it sounded like fun. But in fact it wasn’t. We spent several hours with backs bent, painting the 12000 stones in the village white. We did amuse ourselves greatly though by painting our faces with white path stone warpaint and threatening to make white some of the peacocks and the lettuces.

Day 5:

Escaped to the town again today and had more ice cream.

Highlight: Lunch. It was a magical vegetarian concoction of rice and black eyed peas with a heavenly potato and vegetable curry type affair. I say curry type affair because it seemed to taste of curry but I know this to be not true as spices inflame passion apparently and this is a no-no. According to the religion, there are 3 qualities in the world and in people: goodness, passion and ignorance. Obviously you want to stamp out the passion and ignorance in yourself and cultivate the goodness. And going along with this, foods are divided into the same categories. Spices, garlic and onion etc. inflame passion which supposedly leads to doinking and the like. Mushrooms are ignorant. This is because they grow in dirty places. I know this to be true as I saw mushrooms growing in the shit pit.

Lowlight: Cleaned the shitters. Not sure how I landed this job again.

Day 6:

Woke up with a dodgy stomach. According to one of the devotees 94% of the volunteers get sick on account of the large quantities of minerals found in the water! And not in fact because we handle faeces on a regular basis and only have the use of vinegar as a disinfectant. Spent a lot of the day in bed feeling sorry for myself. But still managed to be well enough by the afternoon to eat cake. There was this fabulous devotee called Alejandro who produced the most scrumptious baked goods in his teeny weeny little “bakery”.  I told him on a number of occasions that I loved him, most notably after he made donuts with chocolate on top and with chocolate INSIDE them as well. He thought I was insane. I had envisaged myself living off the land for a week and being healthful and giving my body the goodness it has been sorely lacking. But instead I flooded it with chocolate covered items.

Highlight: CHOCOLATE CAKE

Lowlight: Having to run out of yoga in the morning to find the nearest bucket.

Day 7:

Highlight: MORE CAKE

Lowlight: What a surprise! Cleaning out the shitters AGAIN. Emma, Roo and I felt it was only right to clean them as we had contributed a substantial amount to them the previous day.

On Day 8 I left the village to go back to Lima to catch me a bus to Cusco.

In summary. I am glad I went to the village. Not sure I will be devoting myself to the cause any time soon but I really admire the people who have. It isn’t a charming life – business in buckets, cold showers for the rest of their days and giving up certain things to centre their lives around their god, but they seem genuinely happy with their lot. The devotees were all lovely and I also met some really cool people volunteering – almost none of whom I wanted to punch in the face.

I have to mention here the hilarious email I got from my brother yesterday telling me that he thought my idea of a “holiday” was crap: volunteering cleaning toilets, embarking on 22 hour bus trips and “going to school again” which I am assuming refers to learning Spanish. He thinks that if I volunteered less, travelled on fewer buses and didn’t go to school then I would have more time to shave my legs and exercise more. Although strangely he does kind of applaud my lack of grooming, if only on the grounds that it makes me look so unattractive that I am apparently not fit to be kidnapped, which is his gravest concern about my trip. And in response, I agree I should be eating less chocolate and possibly shaving more but I don’t think this trip really classes as a holiday. I am not doing this to work on my tan, RICHARD. I wanted to travel to see the world obviously but also to work on some of my deficiencies: namely my impatience and my lack of self-confidence. And to gain some perspective, become more aware and hopefully decide what I want to be when I grow up. So put that in your pipe. Jokes. Love you.

Peace and love and potatoes, People!

Operation Get My Ass to Peru

Word.

So I know I said I wasn't posting for awhile but instead of trying to mission straight through to hippie town one time I decided to stop over a night in Lima - mainly because I am exhausted but also to eat meat and dairy products and I wish I could say engage in non-marital relations but I can't. All things frowned upon by the hare's.

I am ensconced in my lovely hostel (a nice smelling, comfy bed and clean bathroom with not a pube in sight - what more could a girl ask for?), after venturing out into the rain for a DOPE crispy pizza (chorizo, REAL mushrooms - they seem to like a canned mushroom over here as far as I have seen - and avocado) followed by - remember that this is a judgement free zone - the biggest Starbucks cafe mocha EVER. I know it's not very travel-y and instead of visiting corporate America I should have been getting amongst it at some road side stall eating barbequed cow offal and talking to the locals in Spanish about the meaning of life blah blah. But Starbucks was warm and had comfy couches and they were playing Jack Johnson and so I drank my bucket of mocha and read my book surrounded by English speaking people and it was bliss. Tomorrow I will go be uncomfortable in a local dive bar and grow as a person on this journey that I have undertaken but today I chose easy and familiar.

So I mentioned that it was kind of a mission to get here. The normal border between Bolivia and Peru has been shut for over a month now due to protests (something to do with Canadians and or mining apparently) so it takes a bit more effort to get from the one country to the next. To do so - I left La Paz on Saturday morning at 7am and it only took a 10 hour bus trip with 1 border crossing in the middle (Bolivia to Chile), another border crossing (Chile to Peru) via a collectivo, straight away followed by another bus trip - this time for 22 hours overnight - and lastly a taxi drive to my hostel from the bus station - during which I had to direct the taxi driver using my 2007 Lonely Planet. Oh well. To be sure I am here and it wasn't that bad. It was issue free for the most part and I arrived alive which has to count for something.

I do have to make mention though of how serious the Peruvians took their security during the second bus trip. Before I boarded the overnight bus I had to show them my passport with entry papers even though I wasn't going through a border. They then videoed me and my seat number, as well as everyone else on the bus before we set off. Then at least 4 times during the trip, including at like stupid in the morning, the bus was stopped at certain check points and random bags were pulled out of the cargo hold by the police/army/scary looking dudes and the entire contents scattered gaily over the cold dirty ground. Luckily my bag wasn't picked out because if they had yanked MY smalls out to be sniffed through by some large dog I would have broken someone in half. For realz. It was amazing at how patient my fellow bus mates were while their possessions were being man handled. Those were some serious Mona Lisa smiles I saw.

Another pleasantry on the bus was the fact that, although they had a toilet on board, we were strictly prohibited from dropping the kids off using said toilet. If we wanted to do a number 2 we had to tell the bus conductor and he would tell the bus driver who would then stop at a suitable location. Then everyone would watch you get off the bus, WIF toilet roll in hand and they would know what you were about to do. Lucky for me I don't do number 2's, so I was ok.

And that is all. A post about nothing really. And not very exciting. But I find that if I don't do this as regularly as I can, then it doesn't happen.

Be well.

PS Thanks for the blog love peeps (via the Facebook, as it seems commenting through the blog is somewhat troublesome.) It can be somewhat nerve racking posting things for all the world to see here. I know my mum and dad will be amused at most of what I write but I can't say the same for the rest of you lot.

Loco La Paz + Rumble in Rurre

I got back to La Paz today, after my foray into the jungle. (I say jungle because it sounds cooler but I was actually on a ‘pampas’ tour. Just so we are clear. And you don’t think I am an imbecile.)

So I flew to Rurrenabaque (or Rurre for short) on Monday afternoon and was greeted by this amazing whoosh of warm tropical air as the doors of the teeny weeny plane were opened. Thermals, jerseys, jumpers, jackets and the like were whipped off right there on the grass runway and I almost ALMOST performed a celebratory running man at the excitement of being warm. To be fair, Bolivia hasn’t been that cold. I am just used to having feeling in my fingers and toes at ALL times, having mostly lived in lovely warm climates. (I also have a mother who mock charges when she is cold. So no hope for me really when it comes to making friends with temperatures below 20 degrees.)

Anyway Rurre was cute and run down and kind of reminded me of Thailand. And I was lucky to be on a tour with some cool people and I got along with them rather well. We were definitely a mixture but it seemed to work.

Highlights of the 3 day tour were seeing the “pink” river dolphins and swimming near them. Although to do this I had to forget everything I had learned on Kariba about not swimming near the shore if I didn’t want the crocs to eat me breakfast. When we swam with the dolphins I was basically standing chest deep in the river water and was able to see all the caiman (think small crocodiles) sunning themselves on the river banks – I was just waiting for them to get off their lazy asses to come and chomp us but they didn’t. Other highlights were the DOPE fish dinner in Rurre the night before the tour left, chilling on the boat wending its way slowly down the river and also catching pirahnas and being man enough to take them off my hook by my clever self. The only lowlight was a brief period about an hour into python hunting on day 2. We had been bashing around the swampy bush in the hot sun, getting bitten to all hell by all the mosquitos on God’s earth and I was well and truly over it. Picture the following (you know how I love this): me at my most attractive, one frigging giant sweat patch, a too-small army camouflage wide brim hat (purchased on a whim in Rurre) yanked low on my head cutting off the circulation to my brain, several stray hairs plastered to my puce face, swamp water leaking into my too-big gumboots, into which my dirty backpacker- poo-grey-quick-dry pant were tucked. I had also sprayed myself with so much insect repellent that when I cradled the massive bottle of water (that was going to save me from heat stroke and certain death), the blue and green colouring from the label spread all over my arms so that I looked like a sick smurf in the arm region. I had also managed to bugger up my neck sleeping funny the night before and I was unable to rotate it more than 1 degree in either direction without feeling serious pain. This caused me to behave like I was suffering from a mild case of Tourette’s Syndrome. Every time I moved my neck slightly to take in the beauty of the nature it would hurt and I would yelp out curse words. How we ever managed to locate a python with me shouting out ‘Shit! Arse! Balls!’ is still beyond me. But luckily one of the Canadian girls managed to spot one that was obviously hard of hearing and the outing was deemed a success and we were able to get the ‘Shit! Arse! Balls!’ out of there!

So yes. Back in La Paz, the capital of Bolivia and apparently the location of the highest most things in the world. For example, before I left for Rurre, I went for “the highest curry in the world” with some people I met at the guesthouse I stayed in when I was in Sucre. It was while consuming this highest curry that we were got round to discussing something that I had already kind of started to realise: La Paz is crazy.

I will now list the main list of attractions of this city and you can decide for yourself:

The world’s most dangerous road: You basically get driven out of La Paz and bike 30km or so down this crazy road where, these days, most traffic fears to tread. A few weeks ago a Japanese tourist went off the edge of the track and died. Several people who I have come across are also sporting injuries from their ride. I therefore decided to give this a swerve. Call me crazy but I don’t want to spend the next few months in Latin America with my arm in a sling or a wedge of titanium holding my jaw in place.

San Pedro Prison: If you have read the book ‘Marching Powder’ you might have heard about this crazy prison, where inmates have to buy their own cell and can bring their families to live with them. It is used to be possible to visit the prison and even stay overnight with the inmates.  I think some people still do. Possibly after smoking some crack. Pure craziness!

Route 36 Cocaine Bar: It doesn’t have a fixed address because it moves around to avoid the authorities shutting it down, but this bar is still here – for tourists to ‘score some coke’. Or at least I think that’s what the cool kids are still calling it. As you may have gathered I am not really down with it. If someone offered me cocaine I would probably try and sprinkle it on my muesli.

The witches market: This was not as crazy I had thought it was going to be. I was expecting a musty dark alley, hunched witches with gammy eyes hiding in dark corners muttering evil curses at me while chewing on newt eyeballs plus the odd live animal sacrifice. Obviously. All I really got was smiley women offering me love potions, dried llama foetuses and handbags.

Cholita Wrestling: Basically these sweet little ladies get dressed in traditional Bolivian outfits and beat the bejesus of out each other, apparently not unlike WWF but with less spandex. And people go and watch and cheer them on.

Anyway tomorrow I head off on what can only be described as a mammoth journey to my next destination in Peru. Because I didn’t spend as much time in Argentina as I thought I would, I have a bit of time to kill before I go to Cusco to mission on the Inca jungle trail that I have booked for the beginning of July. So as one does when one has time to kill, one volunteers at an eco yoga park.  Now don’t be alarmed, there will be hare krishnas there and I may have to participate in some light chanting. But if I am cool with it, you should be too. Please note that due to this, for a good while I won’t be engaging in blogging (Marita!) or emailing or Facebooking or texting, as I will be shunning the evils of technology and so on and so forth. But should have lots to tell when I next come into contact with a pc computer et al.

Peace and love and tofu cheese, bitches!   

PS Was going to load photos. But then I didn't.

Welcome to the Jungle

Yes. I am that cool that I am quoting Guns N' Roses.

Anyway this is just a super short post to say that I hit the jungle today and will be up the Amazon (tributary) without a paddle for the next few days.

Picture me fishing for pirahnas, swimming with pink dolphins and hunting for anacondas - basically just being at one with Mother Earth and most of her mosquitos.

May I have lots to tell when I get back to civilisation.

But if you don't hear from me by at least Sunday it will be because I have found a lost Amazonian tribe and they will have asked me to live with them and be their god. On account of my fabulous haircut. 

That is all.

My llama's name is Pepe.

Spanish lessons this week went swimmingly, but are now over. I slowly progressed from sounding like a caveman (i.e. "Coffee.") to sounding like a 2 year old (i.e. I want coffee, please). However I am finding it frustrating that I still have no personality in Spanish, and even worse no sense of humour. Unless you count the jokes I made about riding on llamas, which I don't. But which my Spanish teacher seemed to enjoy.
Besides from llamas, whenever I was asked to make up example sentences in Spanish they always seemed to involve Lady Gaga. This is because I had her mug staring at me all lesson from the cover of the lovely notebook that I bought from the market on Monday. I wrote in it all the millions of things I tried to squish into my brain over the last week. And I feel it added a little something something to my lessons.

Anyway apparently I just need to practise speaking now. I might also do a few more lessons in Ecuador or Colombia. For now I will have to be content with: 'I ride my llama while listening to Lady Gaga' but one day I will be able to discuss THE zeitgeist.

And in other news. I had a hair cut yesterday.
I know. Alert the media. I just thought it was kind of worth mentioning since I hadn't done any hairdressing vocab in class yet so there was sort of a breakdown in communication. Basically the hairdresser gave me an undercut and now I look like a lesbian. It's all good though. It's only hair and will eventually grow back and I will like boys again. At least I didn't have to make boring conversation with her about how her cat got run over by the lawn mower or my impending spinsterhood.

Anyway. Must go. Very busy and important.

Peace and love and Lady Gaga. X