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

Salar de Uyuni Tour Photo Extravaganza

Hello.

I was having a look at my Salar de Uyuni tour photos and despite my serious lack of skillz as a photographer, some of them are actually cool. I therefore thought it would be a shame not to share some of them. So here they are:

One of the many lagunas we visited.



Sunrise over the salar.
In this particular part the salar was covered in about 20cm of water.





View from Ilsa de Pescadores - right in the middle of the salar.



Self explanatory.
Me on a Pringles tube.
All the proper ones are on someone elses camera.

Intelligent graffiti on one of the rusted trains in the Train Graveyard in Uyuni.

Me getting all Roger Rail on the world - also at the Train Graveyard in Uyuni.

That is all.

Peace out. X

Bye Argentina, Hello Bolivia

Original title I know. I have been working on it all day.

Now because I am so alarmingly lazy at posting stuff, about 4 years have gone by since the last time I could be arsed, and so shit has happened and now I am going to tell you about it.

As you can see, I have cleverly titled each little section so you know what I am on about.

I like wine, please.

So I thoroughly enjoyed Mendoza (in the north of Argentina). This was mostly, because it has a lot of vineyards and thus a lot of wine.

To make sure I consumed an adequate amount of wine I did a full day’s wine tour with a guide and tour group and then a DIY tour the next day on a bicycle in the region of Maipu  (pronounced 'my poo') - with a Welsh girl from my hostel. All in all I went to 6 wineries and tasted 28 buckets of wine.

Unfortunately I still can’t tell tobacco undertones from grassy undertones. And I also still feel like a tool swirling the wine around my mouth like I have a clue. But like the hot wine tour man at one of the wineries I visited said: 'wine is a personal experience'. So it's ok that the guy next to me might be able to taste plums and or marmalade, while I can only taste wine. I did learn though that in Mendoza, 2004 was a good year for wine as the grapes were sweeter that year for some reason. So far I have managed to drop the following into approximately 12 conversations I have had since learning that little titbit: ‘Oh I say - 2004 was an excellent YAR for the Malbec.’ It isn’t really relevant to the political situation in the DRC or Arnie’s lovechild but whatevs because this chick knows STUFF.

[Number of times I have written the word 'wine' in the above 15 lines: 354]

Salta

Salta was a quick hop, step and a jump away from Mendoza. And by ‘quick hop, step and jump’ I mean a 22 hour bus trip. The city is lovely – with cool old buildings and churches and a hill behind it that only took 1070 steps to get up. (There is a sign so that’s how I knew how many steps there were.)

I also did a spot of horse riding while I was in Salta. With 2 seriously enthusiastic Americans. I say horse riding but I am pretty sure they put me on a mule. But it was fun anyway and I even managed to get the mule to canter into the sunset. Although I felt bad when I looked at a photo of me on said mule, as I was pretty much the same size as the poor thing. But I brushed its mane afterwards and spoke to it nicely (in English, MIND) and I think it felt better.

In between rides in the morning and afternoon in the countryside we had an Argentinian BBQ (called an asado) and I ate AN whole cow and a mouthful of blood sausage - which I really wanted to spit out but felt it would have been rude. Anyway all in all a splendid day. Although I did walk very peculiarly for the next few days and had several bruises to show for the day’s activities.  

A Border

I am not going to lie to you. I was less than ecstatic at the prospect of doing a border crossing in Latin America with the 12 words of Spanish that I know. But luckily things seemed to go my way. And when I got off the overnight bus from Salta to La Quiaca, the border town in Argentina, I found a sweet little Bolivian lady who was carrying her bundle of firewood, and what looked like chicken feet to the border, and with the use of Spanglish and sign language I asked her if I could join her on her quest. She FREAKED OUT that I was from Zimbabwe. In a good way though. And we walked in companionable silence to the border and afterwards went our separate ways into the soft dawn light.

Border crossed. Boom!

Salar de Uyuni

After getting through the border into Bolivia I caught another bus, this time to Tupiza, where I was hoping to get on a 4 day jeep tour of the Salar de Uyuni and surrounds. I had to stay 2 nights here, which was more than enough, before the whole group was assembled and then off we went.

Our Bolivian guide / driver was lovely and reminded me of our tour leader on the Everest Base Camp trek, in that he was knowledgeable and little and I wanted to squish his brains out of his head and put them in a jar he was so precious.

Besides from the guide and cook (who were in the front) I spent 4 days in the jeep with a strange Frenchman who insisted on wearing a red poncho and took to pretending he was Superman A LOT and a Croatian couple who must have been Japanese in another life because MAN they could take some photos. The scenery was so gorgeous and yet these 3 insisted on sleeping as soon as the jeep started moving and would only wake up when the car stopped for us to get out. They would then suddenly jump into action. The Frenchman would go off and pose like Superman on all manner of rocks and would demand that people took photos of him with his fist in the air and his “cape” behind him (he didn’t have a camera so these pictures of him are on OTHER PEOPLES cameras). The Croatian chick would pose (mostly like a flamingo on one leg, but often also with her arms outstretched in front of her like she was going to dive into a swimming pool) while her dude would snap away. You can’t make this shit up, people! We also shared the tour with a jeep of Israelis and another jeep with a lovely Belgium couple and a German guy.

The Salar de Uyuni is the largest salt flat in the world and was apparently formed when the massive lake in the region dried up and left behind a whole lot of salt, amongst other minerals. The Salar contains most of the lithium reserves in the world which Bolivia is only just starting to exploit. According to our guide, Bolivia is going to be “as rich as Saudi Arabia and Switzerland” due to the lithium extraction, because the mineral is used so extensively in batteries. Besides the salt flats we also saw geysers, volcanic rock eroded over a million years to form interesting shapes, many many lakes or lagunas, some with flamingos, as well as hot springs and canyons and miles of nothing and everything.

The last day was definitely the best as this is when we actually got to the salt flats. We spent a crazy amount of time taking photos which is the quite the thing to do here, since the flat landscape and thousands of square kilometres of open space kind of skew perspective and make for awesome photos. There will shortly be an amusing video clip of the 12 of us on the tour climbing out of an empty Pringles tube circulating on the Facebook. Well I hope so at least, since it was on someone else’s camera.

Uyuni to Sucre by chicken bus

After arriving in Uyuni at the end of the tour I stayed the night there and then caught a bus to Sucre in the morning.

It was a fairly uneventful bus trip – just really long. To be fair it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be but it wasn’t exactly roses and puppies bouncing around in toilet paper either. Luckily my iPod was charged and Kenny Rogers and Tinie Tempah kept me company for most of the trip.

The bus stopped regularly to let people on and off  and then at about the half way mark the bus driver told us we were having a break and we were allowed to get off. There was a mad dash to find a vacant bush / rock / llama behind which to relieve ourselves. Although that was just the tourists, as the Bolivians bless them were happy to just squat on a vacant piece of ground for all the world to see.

Anyhoo by the end of the 12 or so hours I was NOT 100 cement ox (hi Quinno). I was exhausted from the previous few days and was cold and I couldn’t feel my bum cheeks or my feet or my brain. This didn’t make me fun to be around. People who made eye contact with me literally turned to stone. Thank goodness my hostel wasn’t too far away and I was soon tucked up in bed and the world was a better place again.

Spanish in Sucre

So Sucre is lovely and I have decided to stay for a bit before I possibly head to La Paz.

I have also signed up for a week’s worth of intensive Spanish lessons, because not understanding what’s going on is getting old. And I specifically asked for a teacher who is not hot so that I can concentrate this time.  The language school administrator was at first slightly taken aback by my request but I think we are all on the same page now and I will be tutored by someone suitably unattractive.

I want to throttle the person next to me

No story here. I just wanted to share. Is everyone in this hostel on some special form of crack that makes you LOUD and ANNOYING and SMELL LIKE GARLIC?? Go catch your taxi already, like you have been threatening to for the last 2 hours! Before I maim you with my USB STICK!

I am going to watch ‘Legally Blonde’ dubbed into Spanish and will go to my happy place and everything will be ok.

The End

And in conclusion, as the strange Englishman who I have just met says when he leaves the room (usually to go to the loo): ‘May you have blessed lives.’ Or some shit like that.

PS

Sorry the blog is looking a bit photo-less but the wifi here is weak and uploading a photo is slower than a wet week (hello Marita). Plus as you all will know if you read my last post I am looking less than fabulous so I shall only be uploading photos of my image when children no longer cry in my presence and dogs don’t howl at me when they see me in the street.

Not the flyest thing on the beach.

So my clothes have suddenly become very tight.

I have managed to narrow it down to one of 2 things:

·         My clothes have shrunk in the wash

·         I have been eating cake for breakfast

I am slightly more inclined to go with door number 1. Just because it means I can live in denial for a bit longer and can still have my cake and eat it.

Along with looking like a sausage squished into backpacker poo-green quick-dry casing I would also like you to picture the following please:

1. I have a moustache.
2. My leg hair is so long it will need to be removed with the aid of a hairdresser’s clippers. And possibly a blow torch.
3. I have a slight monobrow.
4. I can’t remember when I last brushed my hair.
5. I don't know where my hair brush is.
6. I have a rash on my left upper arm.
7. And I don’t know how it happened but I have pretty much lost the toenail on my right big toe.

I have heard on more than one occasion that it is highly possible I might meet my future husband during my travels. It’s just there hasn’t been much interest yet.

AND I CAN’T THINK FOR THE LIFE OF ME WHY.

Bus Bingo

I know it sounds boring but today, people, I am going to tell you about my bus trip. But do feel free to stop reading now if bus trips don’t do it for you.

The Basics

The bus: Cama (which basically means the business class of the open road)

Seats: Leather

Bus conductor: sweet, Spanish

Bus buddy: sweet, Spanish, possibly gay, possibly named Alfredo

First we played bus bingo (Hence the name of this post. Hey, I panicked. I don't usually title my emails and I am still new at this). It was the most fun because I got to practice my Spanish numbers and I feel like the bus really bonded – as encouraging winks and rueful head shakes were exchanged over hard boiled sweets, while the numbers were called. (Well actually that was just me and eventually everyone stopped making eye contact.) Anyway the winner won a bottle of wine and he went up to get it and we all clapped.

And then I chatted to Alfredo next to me for a good while, mostly about his love of Madonna and Lady Gaga. We did attempt to discuss other topics, which weren’t as successful, but I nodded encouragingly anyway. He could have been saying ‘I smell bacon’ for all I know but I still think we shared a moment. He even asked for my name so he could look for me on the Facebook.

And then we watched Scarlett Johansson attempt to not look hot in The Nanny Dairies or ‘Los Diarios de la Ninera’.

And then we got our meal. (Snacky things and chicken casserole and mashed potato!)

And then we slept.

And then we were woken up by a male passenger at the back shouting what sounded suspiciously like soap opera lines in his sleep, but I can’t be sure because they were in Spanish. I am at least 12% certain one of the things he said was something along the lines of ‘You will never get away with this, Fernando’.

And then we slept some more.

And then we got gently roused from our slumber by the conductor with our breakfast and HOT CHOCOLATE!

And then our journey was over and we got off the bus.

Best 11 hour bus trip.

Ever.

The End.

Bitchin' Buenos Aires

Hola.

I have now left BA and am in Rosario (the birthplace of Che Guevara) but I managed to jam pack my last few days with muchas stuff and yes I still heart Buenos Aires.

The short version:

• I watched La Boca Juniors play River Plate and win 2-0 at their home stadium.
• I had the best steak of my 28 years.
• And I went and watched a large group of sweaty Argentines banging on drums.

The long version:

The whole La Boca experience was mostly awesome with some periods of me being more than somewhat annoyed. I don't wish to complain but if I did wish to complain it would go a little something like this:
We were told when we parted with our benjamins that we would be receiving unlimited pizza and beer before the game, followed by unlimited beer afterwards, transport to and from the game and a SEAT at the actual game. We were picked up at our hostel so they get a tick in the box for that. But it soon became apparent that we weren't getting pizza and beer - at least not for some hours. We got to the stadium, queued for several blocks, were patted down for any concealed weapons (which included lipstick) and were ushered to the stands by our guides. Ironically we were in the el cheapo general admission section - ironic because we probably paid the most for our tickets out of everyone in the stadium. Anyway after about 10 minutes of jostling in the crowd we realised that no we didn't actually have a seat and yes we were expected to stand for the next 2 hours with the sun beating down on our fair gringa/o skin before the game even started. Some of you will know what a grumpy guts I can be and I admit I dropped lip and may or may not have actually stomped my foot a few times. But then I had a teaspoon of cement and hardened the (insert Irish cuss word here) up. Well that, or I just got high off the fumes from the dude chain-smoking the green stuff (or waccy baccy as my dad calls it) in front of me and I chilled out sufficiently.

The atmosphere in the crowd was insane and La Boca fans are freaking hardcore! Standing right next to me at the game (well actually on my actual feet) were a mom and dad and their 3 daughters all under the age of 10 who knew all the words to all the songs, including the ones which called the other team 'sons of whores' or something to that effect. I am almost certain I didn't know what a whore was when I was 10. I am glad that La Boca won or someone would have got their asses well stabbed (probably by a 10 year old girl).

Speaking to guys who actually know stuff about football (and who kindly showed me the offside rule with the aid of jenga pieces) the quality of play wasn't on the same level as some of the European teams but at a game like that it's more about the atmosphere and the crowd and shouting obscenities at the ref.

So after the game, I won't lie, I was rather excited at the thought of getting out of the grounds and/or sitting down for a reasonable amount of time. However we first had to wait an hour (or 60 minutes) until the River fans first left the stadium (to avoid unnecessary violence) and then the La Boca fans in the better seats left as well. Once again I almost lost my shit. The guides really should have followed through on their promise on beer before the game because drunk Tracy is WAY more fun and accommodating than sober Tracy who can sometimes be a bit of a big girl's blouse. I think everyone found this out after the game, when we finally received the pizza and beer (that I have bleated on about for 45 paragraphs). Because after 23 beers I couldn't even remember what I had been pissed off about and made friends with everyone IN THE WORLD.

Now I know I could have probably found a cheaper ticket somehow and not gone with the over-priced tour group option (and thus cut out some of my whinging and moaning) but I had heard stories about River fans throwing wee etc on the Boca fans and the possibility of fighting in the crowd and I preferred my first soccer match to remain a urine and violence free experience. So I just went with the safer option. (And just so you don't think I am a complete brat, 97% of the other people were peeved as well and 2 girls on the same tour actually tried to leave because they were so freaked out in the crowd.)

And now to the steak.

Oh the steak.

The day after the soccer and my last full day in BA I went to a restaurant called 'La Cabrera' in Palermo for lunch. And there I experienced 400 grams of utter dopeness - with blue cheese sauce on top of it. Now I know if a steak is really good it doesn't need anything to go with it but I confess I was slightly hung over after the beer-soccer madness from the night before and blue cheese sounded like a plan. I also had an amazing avocado, tomato and heart of palm (similar to artichokes?) salad and afterwards a chocolate volcano pudding with ice cream which was so amazing I almost wept. The whole meal cost me my budget for about 1.54 days in Argentina but it was worth it.

After the meal (that I will probably tell my grandchildren bedtime stories about) I waddled back to my hostel, had a quick wardrobe change and headed out with some people from the hostel to 'La Bomba del Tiempo'. Every Monday night at this cultural centre in Once a group of about 15 or so guys play percussion instruments for a few hours, with several guys taking turns doing the "conducting". I say conducting but it was more like random hand signals, with a whole lot of ass shaking and revving up the crowd. It was probably one of the best things I did while in BA and I know it sounds a bit hippyish but at one point - in the middle of the crowd, while attempting to shake it like a Latin person, listening to the amazing music, I felt so blessed. It was just one of those moments where you think - 'well shit this thing called life is actually rather excellent thank you very much'.

And no nothing happened with the hot Spanish teacher. He kind of avoided me after I asked him if he could translate "I want to run my fingers through your hair" into Spanish. :)

Alive and Kicking!

Hello Readers, (especially Marita and Rob who have lately separately expressed their displeasure at my lack of this thing that is called blogging)

12 thousand apologies for not writing anything in the last 6 weeks or so. Apparently the last post was sad and SURELY I must have been doing fun things since then.

Summary of the last wee while:
A week and a bit was spent detoxing or "cleansing", if you will, on lovely Koh Phangan in Thailand (and yes the sun did eventually come out). I felt SO damn good afterwards: my body was well and truly a fricking temple. Unfortunately I subscribe to the 'All or Nothing' philosophy and so after being kind and respectful to my temple blah blah blah I inhaled a gigantic packet of chocolate chip biscuits (on the ferry trip off the island) about 3 seconds after finishing the cleanse and haven't stopped since. I believe it's called "retoxing".

After eating everything I could lay my hands on in Bangkok for my last few days in Thailand I flew to Zimbabwe for my fabulous cousin, Jo's wedding (where she was joined in holy matrimony to the almost as fabulous Wood.Dog). And needless to actually say but I am going to say it anyway I had the time of my life. I caught up with friends and family and carried on with the above mentioned "retoxing" process with a hen's party, massive wedding, rather large Kariba trip and various catch ups. Shout out to the freaking marvellous people who I reconnected with and also met for the first time. After a month back in deepest darkest I am in serious danger of packing up my life and moving there permanently. I loved it THAT much.

After Zimbabwe I flew to South Africa for a few days and stayed in 'die plek van goud' with the lovely Blond bombshell and her soon-to-be husband. I was treated like a queen and had a whale/wail/wale of a time. I was also SO impressed with Joburg.

And now I am in Buenos Aires, which (I am happy to report) I am loving as much as I thought I would. This place is seriously the poo!

First thing I did was sign up for 4 mornings of Spanish classes so that in theory I will be able to communicate sufficiently with the natives and order wine properly. And I think I am a little bit in love with one of my Spanish teachers. I am going to ask him if he wants me to have his children. If he agrees I will probably just stay here and eat steak and drink espresso for the rest of my days.
Apart from making googly eyes at Juan* I have been walking around just looking at the amazing buildings and places and taking about 5637 photos. I have already met some really dope people and this trip of mine is still but an embryo!

Anyway I need to go drink wine now.
Chau. X

*Name has been changed to protect the identity of the hot Spanish teacher

Les Miserables

Hello the faithful ones,

I am alive. I have not been abducted by undesirables and my organs harvested for sale. I have just been too gosh darn miserable to blog. I know I am backpacking around without a care or worry and am basically (cliché alert) living the dream. But sometimes the dream isn’t that dreamy. Dreamy sounds weird when you say it over and over. (As does any word really.) Anyway the past few days haven’t been that peachy that’s all.

Let me break it down for you.

From Phuket (the place of the muay thai camping which I was a little sad to leave) I caught a bus to Surat Thani, with the bus almost getting stuck in flood water several times and the journey taking 7 hours instead of the usual 5 it should have. At Surat Thani we were informed that the ferry to Koh Phangan would in fact not be running that day because the road to the ferry was flooded and we were to stay there for the night. Surat Thani is basically a hole and the hotel I stayed in was a hole within a hole. The next day it appeared that the weather situation had not improved and apparently would not for a few days. So I hopped on a bus BACK to Phuket to catch a plane to Koh Samui to hopefully catch a ferry from there to Koh Phangan. The bus trip was uneventful and fine except for the people who had to stand the whole way in the aisle because the trip was overbooked  (not me thank goodness or I would have lost my shit.) So I got to Samui at about 5ish that day and attempted to catch a ferry across to Phangan but was told that no ferries were running for the rest of the day. I found a lovely (i.e. revolting) place to stay for the night and hoped for the best. The next day the first few ferries were cancelled. Thankfully though I was able to get on the 1.30pm. The trip was not what I would call pleasant and the boat attendants kindly handed out vomit bags to all on board. The trip was thankfully only half an hour – any longer and I may have been forced to make use of the aforementioned vomit bag. We arrived in Phangan to glorious rain, hopped in a mini bus taxi and headed towards Haad Rin where I was most likely to be able to catch my next mode of transport – either long boat or 4x4 – to the Sanctuary, the place where I was going to stay to cleanse myself and reach a state of zen-like calm, but which happened to be on the other side of the island. The trip, which probably should have taken about 15 minutes in real life ended up taking 2 and a half hours.  This was due, for the most part, to the 2 separate landslides across the road that we came upon and which had to be moved by an earth mover from our path. It was at this point that I was convinced that I if I didn’t perish from mudslide or drowning, it would definitely be due to asphyxiation from carbon monoxide poisoning. It seemed that our driver wasn’t aware of global warming etc and enjoyed leaving the car running with all windows up for the long periods of time it took him to disappear into the rain to investigate the next interruption to our journey. We did slide open the windows every few minutes for some air but obviously had to shut them when the car started to fill with water. Anyway, drama queen, that I am we did arrive in one piece at HaadRin and searched for someone to take us (I met an Australian chick in the taxi who was heading in the same direction so we kind of decided to stick together) to the Sanctuary. Everyone we asked laughed AT our faces. Apparently the last boat that tried to get across to that side in the weather tipped over and the dirt road was closed. So we found some rooms with very mouldy mattresses and a very loud tin roof to stay the night. My room made me feel like I was in prison but it WAS one of the few places that seemed to have a generator and therefore power because the electricity was supposedly out on the rest of the island.

Rain greeted us this morning and after some investigation we realised that we were going to be going nowhere at all so we hunted for less depressing accommodation. This involved sloshing ankle deep in dirty rain water down the streets trying not to lose our slops in the mud and get blown over by the wind. We found a block of bungalows which had power from a generator and which didn’t make us want to off ourselves.

Anyway tonight power was restored to most of Haad Rin and we were able to wonder around and everyone looks much happier with their lives in general. I was even able to find a pharmacy to procure some cough medicine - on account of being stricken with consumption. You see the rain has not been ideal for recovering from a cold and I sound like a cross between a 270 year old greyhound - having an asthma attack and choking on a bone AT THE SAME TIME.

Very soon I am sure things will be pretty much roses and angel babies and frigging whiskers on kittens. All I need really is:

·         The sun to shine tomorrow – metaphorically, physically and spiritually

·         The boom box belonging to the tool heads next door playing Eastern European rave at level 12000 to explode and for said tool heads to lose the ability to speak due to wounds sustained in the explosion

Too much to ask???

Farewell.

PS I must confess I wrote the above 2 nights ago but then it wasn’t able to be posted due to no wifi / internet. The sun has not come out to shine yet and alas the boom box did not explode. But I found another retreat place to do my intended detox fast on a more accessible side of the island. Irene, the Aussie chick is also here doing a yoga program. This place is pretty hippy / new age with all manner of things like reiki, chakra balancing and tarot card reading. I might come out of here a full blown fairy Scientologist and will probably have to change my name to Moon Blossom. But everyone seems really nice and I haven’t been asked to sacrifice any goats just yet so I think I am going to stay for the time being.

That is all.

Phi Phi Paradise

Hello.

I have resigned myself to the fact that I will never be a champion muay thai fighting machine so have taken it rather easy the last week or so, missing several training sessions and chilling more than is strictly necessary. I DO want to hit it (it being the training) with a large stick until I leave but before I put my game face I thought I would gallivant off to Koh Phi Phi for a spot of exploring.

I caught the ferry with 3 other chicks (who I train with at the gym) early on Sunday from Phuket Town, with the idea of spending a night or 2. After some lunch and wondering along the beach and around the markets, one of the girls headed back to Phuket to catch a plane back home and the rest of us booked our asses onto a trip to the beaches and bays around Phi Phi, which was to end in a night of camping on Maya Beach – where they filmed the movie ‘The Beach’.

First off we stopped off at Monkey Beach which was very crowded with tourists and a bit disappointing. I felt a bit sorry for the monkeys - although they didn’t seem to mind too much and carried on with the business of eating ticks off each other quite happily. We then went snorkeling on the look for black tip(ped?) reef sharks, which we found. However they weren’t very big or particularly scary.

Cliff diving followed the snorkeling. That also wasn’t too scary. The worst thing about it was the swim from the boat to the cliff – doggy paddling in the large waves trying not to get dashed against the freaking sharp rocks. The girls were only allowed to jump off the cliff once (because we are lame apparently) so I did an 8m jump and then doggy paddled back to the boat to watch the boys be heroes, back flipping and the like. On the way to Maya Beach we stopped at another bay and had some questionable pad thai for lunch, took 456 photos and carried on our merry way.

On arrival at Maya Beach I almost cried when I saw the 4000 boats of tourists - with their lime green speedos and gay European hair. I pictured taking in the beauty and the tranquillity etc etc at one end of the beach – just me alone with my thoughts  – well alone except for Leonardo Dicaprio. With no shirt on. Anyway eventually most of the boats left and about 40 or so of us were left on the beach to camp for the night. And there was eating, some drinking, lots of chatting and eventually sleeping on the beach on mats under the stars. It wasn’t particularly comfortable, but after camping in Nepal, the soft sand felt like the feathers of a thousand little ducklings. After breakfast we headed back to Phi Phi with a quick swim in a bay for those with hangovers.

Obligatory Maya Beach photo.

Zoe headed back to Phuket in the early afternoon and Jo and I found ourselves a place to stay with a pool. After checking in and having a quick swim,  I headed off to find my very lovely friends, Caroline and Brian who also happened to be staying on Phi Phi. We had a massive catch up (although I did most of the talking) over mango shakes and later over an extremely DOPE vegetable curry and even later over pancakes.

The next day, well rested after a night sleeping in an air conditioned hotel room (cue angels singing) Jo and I skulked around the markets before catching the ferry back to Phuket.

Tracy out.