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Cusco, Peru

Salkanthay Blog.PREFACEI sit here in Leeds the day before my 33rd birthday about to try and do something which has weighed heavily on my shoulders since I returned from my travels… finishing my blog!Situations which brought about these circumstances are, briefly as follows.Having posted one of my last blogs I received positive feedback about it's contents from someone who’s opinion I respect highly and thus wanted to make my final entry not only up to the standard of that but also a worthwhile document of my time in the place I had most wanted to visit on the Continent and the World – the Peruvian trek to one of the Seven Wonders of the Modern World - Machu Pichu.I remember piecing together snippits of information regarding the trek in my notepad as I tried to preserve battery on my trusty Nokia N95 whilst trekking for taking photos along the way. As you may have gathered from my previous blog I was down to this last piece of technology after being robbed on the bus from Puno to Cusco as I explain later. The majority of the blog was written on the bus from Cusco to Lima on my phone using the Notepad application. What I didn’t account for was that the Notepad app is simply for notes, not 7 page travel essays and to my horror on arrival back at my parents house I was dismayed to discover that the file had corrupted… with most of the main (and rather large) part of the trek being left unusable.For a long time I was so despondent about this data loss that I felt I could not finish my final account of the trip. However, recently one of the two files I created somehow magically fixed itself and the final summary of my trip overall was retained. In addition now have my life in order, having moved back in to my flat and found a job. Inspired by the original finish of my writing being available I decided tonight is the night to attempt to cast my mind back and fill in the gaps so to speak. I will mark these accordingly so it’s clear what is written somewhat after the event. This should be obvious in being a slightly different tone of writing and perhaps being vaguer than the rest, however, my hope I have is that as a result of my good camera being stolen at the time I conscientiously tried to put my mind into 'record’ mode to capture the moments visually. This I hope will also help me to recount the experience also.ORIGINAL BLOGI write from my final bus en route to Lima from Cusco. Fortunately I have been able to utilise my phone and bluetooth keyboard to compose this blog, not ideal but still pretty cool after having had my laptop stolen on the bus from Puno. Writing on the bus is my favourite way of eating up the rather dull time on the road and in this case the ride is 22hours, my longest trip of my travels, and therefore having a keyboard to bash my recollections out with is a total godsend.Much has happened to me since last I wrote on which I now reflect. I left things last at the police station having reported my robbery. A night out on the tiles to forget the incident left me somewhat hung over and in a bit of a funk having lost my travelling buddies Dan and Andrew to a white water rafting trip leaving me feeling a little alone. A trip to the museum to learn about the Incas and some of what I would be seeing on my trek was the best way I could think to spend my last full day in Cusco. After hiring a sleeping bag and a having a quiet dinner at Paddys Irish pub in the town square I went for an early night in anticipation of the start of my 5 day Salkantay trek for which I was supposed to be being picked up around 04:30.DAY ONEAfter a restless sleep I found myself loitering around the hostel somewhat annoyed that there was no water that morning for me to shower pre-trip (not that there was no hot water, this was the norm in my 20 Solares cheapy hostel, there was LITERALLY&nbsp;NO WATER coming out of the taps!), impatiently looking up and down our street on a hill I waited for my ride. Eventually my mini bus appeared, a little late but I didn't mind, relieved that there hadn't been a mix up and I hadn't been left behind. I'd got myself pretty excited for my trip by this stage, despite missing my ‘official Inca trail’ trek in March, despite losing the camera I had bought for this occasion and despite my lack of sleep I felt the meaning of my whole trip had become a culmination of this trek, of going to Machu Picchu, of finally getting to see this place... so the prospect of missing the trek and having to arrange an alternative shorter tour was starting to panic me before I was eventually collected!After a change over into a bigger bus the mood was, as you would expect for a bunch of people who'd never met each other, somewhat&nbsp; reserved and a little subdued. A guy huddled into his pillow in a window seat and slept the whole way to our jump off point of the village of Mollepatta&nbsp; where we were to commence our trek. What he missed was scenery which became as breathtaking and huge in scale as anything I had laid my eyes on in the Himalayas along roads which took ones breath away in their steepness and perilous nature. There is something about the Peruvian Andes which gets me in a way nowhere else has yet, perhaps it is because they evoke a feel of the famous adventure heros Indiana Jones and Lara Croft?&nbsp; I began to get really excited, my MP3 player randomly bringing on the epic S&amp;M version of Metallica's 'Wherever I May Roam' to get the blood pumping and the personal vibe up.Breakfast revealed my fellow trekkers to be a mixed bunch of Americans (Mike and Connell from Pittsburg), Irish (Kevin and Claire), an Australian (Maurica from Alice Springs) and English (a most unhealthy Phil from Brighton). By coincidence amongst the other groups in the town commencing their trek were a couple I had met at the police station who had also been robbed on the same morning I had.We started our first day of our trek having been introduced to our guide Edwardo an animated and very cool half hispanic half indigenous 28 year old man with an exuberance and enthusiam about him which made it clear from the start that he loved his job and was pleased to have us with him.So - we started walking together. Things initially were pleasant, the conditions were good, the sun was shining and Edwardo gave us a few do's and don'ts about walking past the many Mules we would encounter as well as&nbsp; a bit of info about chewing the Coca leaf and it's benefits for the next few days. Things soon became rather steep, with the odd scramble up a muddy hill which seemed a little perilous, and with Edwardo up ahead, RE-WRITTEN BLOG STARTSthe path became rather vague and I was a little unsure of where to go in certain spots. We had been told to expect a tough, challenging trek but it really seemed we were being thrown in at the deep end here. I did my best to keep pace with Edwardo but felt the limitations of my fitness as well as the altitude begin to make themselves known. I had been smart enough to stock up on Coca leaves before leaving at a little shop in the small town of Mollepata and I tenaciously stuffed more into my mouth and began masticating as the excursion required increased dramatically.The heat at this altitude was stifling, very humid and a lot of water was required, along with cigarette breaks for the smokers in the group (a method of dealing with the altitude I couldn’t understand?). Edwardo stopped at a few scenic spots early on to explain to us some of the history of the trails used and the intelligence of the Incas who had used these trails for many years before they were discovered by the west. He also made it clear that we should be careful of the number of people using the trails today, especially the mules carrying lots of gear including our rucksacks and tents, pointing out the necessity to stay on the inside of them on the trails as trekkers had been knocked off paths down steep hills sometimes with dire consequences.At our pre-lunch break spot I was pleasantly surprised to bump into Gareth and Emily a couple I had met on a bus back from the Floating Islands in Puno who were in a small group with a Dutch girl called Julia. We chatted as we all applied mosquito replant whilst I eyed up and then bought a most excellent walking stick which was immediately to become my trusted new best friend for the next few days… (it came complete with fetching crotched hand protector on the top to prevent blisters! STYLISH!).After another slightly less grueling but perhaps more amazingly stunning walk it was requested we sit and relax at a small village… I say village but it was more like two or three houses in a general vicinity of each other which it seemed were used by the tours as a stop off point as well as by a few local farmers who lived there and took advantage of the passing trade selling water and sweets. I had actually failed to realize this initially as I had lost sight of Edwardo passing through the village and continued on for a bit. I soon realized and retraced my steps feeling rather silly and vowed to try and stay with the group a bit more!At this stage our group tentatively began to get to know each other. Things were still a little stifled at this stage as we’d not had any chance to really chat along the way for fear of falling into the trap of trying to multi-task at altitude. I’d tried it a few times and realized… walking… talking… concentrating on not falling over… they didn’t really mix… with the talking aspect being the obvious element which was superfluous to requirement. I noticed Mike and Connell were seemingly somewhat ill prepared and seemed to be getting burnt by the strong hot sun but didn’t seem to mind or want any of the sun screen I offered them. The ice was really broken as the subject of Marijuana was broached and Kevin expressed his desire to find some in the locality due to his chronic addiction. Edwardo pointed to an area up the hill he thought Kevin might get lucky. Kevin seemed very keen to go off on his own mini trek at this stage, much to our amusement! We were soon asked to sit down and were served lunch which was eagerly anticipated as the cooks reputations preceded them on these tours. We weren’t disappointed as we were served Soup, a delicious Thai Beef Stir Fry with Rice and a local fruit drink which tasted like bubble gum and was the perfect thirst quencher. It became apparent that we were going to be seeing a lot more of the people on other tours at this stage as all of the tours that left from Cusco that day traveled on the same bus and were being led by a bunch of guides and cooks who all seemed to know each other very well. As we finished our food a bunch of cows which were being herded down the mountain made their way rather menacingly through our dinner area which was both disconcerting and funny!We were briefed on the next leg of our trek by Edwardo and then set off, this time on somewhat more reasonable terrain and on an obvious track. I got to know a few people at this stage, including some Danish girls and Mike from our group, in his early 20s from the States. Initially Mike had seemed a little closed off but as we made our way towards our camp for the night we got to know each other and he really made a big impression on me as both someone who did a lot of work for Charity (raising thousands of dollars at University for research into an Leukemia which his girlfriend suffered from) and also from his time in Algeria where he developed an understanding of the Muslim faith and culture which I must admit I didn’t expect. Having your pre-conceptions about people pleasantly broken down is one the best things about traveling I think.Nearing the campsite for the first night the air began to turn very cold as we went past an amazing five star hotel in the middle of the mountains. It looked fabulous and totally out of place. The thing was built tastefully, all large long round logs giving a cosy and inviting feel, but the obvious satellite on the top providing TV and internet seemed very inappropriate. Well - we tried to persuade ourselves of this anyway as we jealously walked past!. Later we were to find out the accommodation cost thousands of dollars a night and weren’t so jealous! The last few Kilometers of our 7hour trek that day seemed very grueling, despite being flat and Mike and I were very pleased to eventually see our home for the night come into view. On arrival at the camp site at Soraypampa I felt a mix of things. First, the place was STUNNING, a large semi-permenant campsite enveloped in snow capped mountains which seemed to reach down at you and blow their icy tops into your face.&nbsp; I felt dirty though… I hadn’t managed an important shower at my hostel after a couple of days without anyway and I was desperate to clean up before the next few days intense trekking. I also felt a little apprehensive of the sunlight which was beginning to disappear and leave us in what looked like a VERY unforgiving place.Having asked Edwardo where the showers were at the camp site and being unsure if he was joking that the ice-melt river stream was our ‘facility’ I soon realized this was my only option and decided to brave it rather than put up with my own stinking ass for a night in a freezing tent with poor Edwardo next to me.Board Shorts, singlet and Flip Flops at the ready I ventured out of my tent with my Peruvian wooly hat on to cries from some girls at another tent along the lines of ‘HE’S GOT HIS SHORTS ON!’. Everyone else was layering up at this stage as I made my way down the water with my wash bag and began what must rate as one of the most horrible and intense washes of my life. It was a very strategic affair, one body part at a time. I’ll spare you the logistical details but what I will add is that was harshest on my hands which had to do all of the work sorting my other ‘bits’ out and that I think it was probably going a bit far trying to wash my hair! Dipping my head into that water to get the seemingly never ending soap out of my hair was one of the most distressing hygiene related experiences of my life! I returned to my tent a cleaner yet slightly shocked and extremely cold person.Our first evening meal was fun. The elements drew in and our campsite became a very dark cold place and we convened in a large yellow mess tent where we waited for our food to be ready and played cards whilst small cats and dogs made mischief around our legs, jumping onto the table and cheekily trying to get at the nibbles which had been provided for us. We were lucky to have a candle to light our table which we made a draft protector for from a plastic bottle and a few of us treated ourselves to some very cheap local rum which although watered down was a nice way to warm ourselves after a hard days trekking. By 7pm we were all beat and ready for bed, all of us aware of our 5am start the next day.DAY TWOEveryone was awoken at 05:30 the next morning in perhaps the best way I have yet to be woken by another man. One of the cooks ‘knocked’ on our tent with the proposal of ‘coca tea’! This reminded me of being woken up by my Dad back at home as a kid before school when he would come into my room with a cuppa and muesli – except I’d usually fall straight back asleep as teenagers do. This time there was none of that as I sat in the dark complete with hat on I’d slept in and reflected gratefully on my decision to hire a decent North Face sleeping bag which had kept me snug and cosy all night and allowed me a deep and peaceful mountain sleep! I needed this cuppa – it looked COLD outside! JAfter a quick breakfast we were away for our longest and most challenging trek of the day. I realized I had lost my mineral stone for my coca leaves which is used to oxidize the leaf and give you more of a buzz. Quite gutted, I also realized that in layering up that morning to face the crack of sparrows I soon had to layer back down as the pace and steep climb we were enduring from the off seemed very intense. At an early stop I happened to get talking to Claire about exercise and it transpired she was a marathon runner who travels to worldwide destinations to compete. I had noticed an intensity to her pace which I admired and after telling her about some of my experiences dong half marathons a friendly challenge seemed to be set between us concerning the pace. To be fair to Claire, she’d not been at altitude for more than a couple of days before the trek whereas I’d had almost a week, but I was happy to have the advantage being the older!As we made our way through the morning, passing some people on horseback, the steep climbs became serious uphill mountain terrain and Claire and I really had to dig deep to maintain our pace. Below us I noticed Phil almost hacking a lung up, the poor bloke really struggling to stay alive at this stage. After a short break by a lovely little lake we began to ascend to the summit of Salkanthay mountain itself. This was really tough, but also very humbling as the majesty of the mountain was all around us. Having reached the trail summit (4600m) first, Claire and I waited for the rest of the group and Edwardo, who gave us a talk on the mountain. He explained how Salkanthay translates to mean ‘Savage Mountain’ and how its 6271m peak has never actually been conquered by climbers. This is in spite of an international expedition from Pampa Hagonaysa 10 years ago which failed due to avalanches. He also said how some feel the mountain may be cursed due to the number of deaths involved on it and pointed out that an airplane had crashed on the mountain also, causing Peruvian airlines to change the course of their internal flights as a result, thus doubling the journey time to one hour from Lima to Cusco! Spooky stuff!Whilst waiting for another group to have their photo at the summit Edwardo began to tell us about why the Incas had built Machu Pichu so high up and explained that it was because they knew about the weather pattern El Nino and wanted to avoid the floods and devastation they knew it would cause. I found this amazing considering in modern times we have only discovered this in the last 20 years or so!Before we left, Edwardo made an offering to the Spirit of the mountain with three Coca leaves which represented the Incan belief of the three worlds (the Lower World&nbsp; - Hell, this World&nbsp; - Earth and the Higher World - Heaven). These worlds are represented by animals in Inca belief, being the Snake, the Puma and the Condor respectively. Finally we were told to use our imagination and look into the mountain as may it possible to see the shape of a Puma… I began to sense a theme here and wondered if the Incas coca leaves were stronger than mine as I couldn’t see any Puma! Soon we were away again, this time downhill towards our lunch. Strangely it was going down that I developed an altitude headache which I was surprised at as theoretically you’re supposed to get them going up? En route Claire and I thought we saw some Condors on the mountain but were disappointed to find out we were mistaken… it was still pretty exciting trying to get close to them to find out what these big birds were. As the landscape changed into flat plains I was also amazed to discover at this stage that Claire was a Radiohead uber-fan who had seen over 50 shows and had even met Thom Yorke! Claire seemed a bit coy about her obsession but I was really impressed and explained about my obsession for Metallica… as well as my love for Radiohead too. I was interested to find out her favorite song is ‘True Love Waits’, an obscure live solo Thom track… (for the record my fave song is ‘Exit Music From A Film’ which I fell in love with at Glasto ’97! ;) ).&nbsp; Lunch was at ‘Huayrac Pampa’ with a family who kept quite a few pigs and horses on their land, with a number of dogs for company also. These people seemed so adept at functioning well with what we would consider to be less than life’s basic necessities. Edwardo nonchalantly acknowledged their dedication over the generations to their home and land here perched high away from so much of the luxury we take for granted.After a lunch which felt like dinner due to the length of time we had been walking that day we descended down further, this time staying together more as a group as the path became more defined and the terrain changed from barren rocky high altitude frozen vistas to humid jungle paths. Edwardo seemed to disappear again, and as I pressed on ahead to find him I made friends once more with the Scottish couple who had been robbed on the Puno bus also. It turned out they had lived in Australia for nearly 5 years and were on their way home perhaps for good. And I thought I had been away from home for a while!…Making our way to our camp for the night at ‘Chaullay’ a village divided by a stream and set amongst beautiful mid level mountains we tried to guess where we should park ourselves as the locals didn’t speak a word of English. Each section of the village had a separate area for our various groups to camp with a two story building set by the side of the campsite for the locals to live in below and for us to chill out at above on an open plan dining area.We soon bought self congratulatory beers to reward ourselves for completing our 9 hour trek, the longest of the tour and more cards were dealt for ‘Shit Head’ which had become our adopted game. It seemed a great way of getting our German friends involved who seemed to be missing out on some of our group interaction. Dinner rolled along as the darkness arrived after which we found ourselves playing a seemingly inevitable game of ‘Circle of Death’ (another card game) which the American Lads had some alternative rules for. Rather embarrassingly Phil and I seemed to be the reprobates of the group as we rather easily revealed ‘secrets’ about ourselves which made the other participants blush…! Well, we WERE quite a bit older than the rest of them! ;)DAY THREEAfter a nights sleep which was rather rudely disturbed by the local Rooster who decided to make himself known at around three o clock in the morning we awoke for our final day together as a group of nine. Claire, Kevin, Mike and Connell had booked on a four day / three night trek which meant they were heading to Aguas Calientes that day, whereas the rest of us had an extra days trekking to look forward to. The day started in a comedic fashion as a bunch of the Trek Mules decided they were going to go a different way to the direction of travel and the guides had to race around the property and persuade the stubborn creatures that our route was the way forward. This meant that a whole bunch of the animals punctuated our mornings walk along some precarious and somewhat dangerous trails. During the mornings walk I got to know Julia a bit more who it transpired was a dive master at the young age of 21. Impressive and somewhat unprecedented! Having dived most of her teenage years she told me of some of her adventures around the world including a recommendation of diving in Egypt with Hammerhead Sharks which sounded amazing! It was during this conversation that Julia and I found ourselves half way down a hill in a forest immersed in what I would call a ‘mule traffic jam’. Initially I was quite relaxed about the situation, but after a period of time waiting I noticed the tenacity of the mule at the front to not move on… it’s true – they ARE stubborn - and the legs of the others around us starting to visibly shake. Some of the mules were slipping backwards! At this stage I began to imagine myself becoming part of a mule avalanche! I must admit, at this stage I was a little panicked, but tried not to show it, only confiding this with Julia after the event. Julia it seemed hadn’t been bothered in the slightest! I guess that’s what comes from diving with large amounts of Hammerhead Sharks in Egypt?The terrain on the mornings trek was amazing as per usual, but so much more varied than before as we now encountered many river crossings, waterfalls and trails along high ravines with water far below. Our morning break was at a clearing which expanded out and we were given free passion fruits which were delicious and refreshing. As the heat of the early-afternoon increased it was suggested we have a pre-farewell game of football, with teams from our various tour groups. I couldn’t resist joining in, having had such fun playing football in Bolivia and soon I had my top off (jumpers for goal posts) and was fully throwing myself into the game! I must say that Phil did very well in goal and contributed to a great victory by our team which included Edwardo and Gareth also. As we departed I noticed what I thought was a landslide but soon realized was large construction vehicles. Somewhat surprised at their presence I spoke to Edwardo about them who explained that the government was building a road which meant that in a few years you would be able to do the whole Salkantay trek on motor bikes! I was dismayed to learn that the silence and nature of our beautiful trek would be destroyed by the sound of engines driven by those unprepared to accept the physical challenge of the environment around us which the hardy and strong Incas had mastered for hundreds of years with only their own self reliance.Civilization shortly presented itself to us as we arrived at a school on the outskirts of Collpapampa where Claire had spied a music class being held outside. The kids were part of a marching band and the teacher who was conducting was by far the most entertaining as he led his kids with a hundred times more passion than any of the young ones could muster!After a final lunch time meal our group chilled outside the restaurant before finally saying farewell to the four who were departing. In a short space of time we had become a family and it was really sad to say goodbye and break up the group after sharing what was already a very special and wonderful experience.Departing on separate busses we made our way along some of the most hair raising roads I have seen since India. Those on the outside seats of the bus seemed to turn white as we made our way along roads which hugged steep drops into a furious looking river. Of course the locals including Edwardo seemed to laugh as they saw some of the faces and heard people shriek, that was until some of the luggage on the top of the vehicle came off and we had to all shout to get the bus to stop to make them realize! JCollpapampa was a real treat, just what was needed during what was a long and exhausting trek. My legs were so tired and I was EVER so eager to go and experience what were allegedly some of the best Hot Springs in South America. After leaving our bags at what could by comparison to our previous nights accommodation be classed as a relative ‘holiday resort’, the various tour groups were put on another bus and taken to the springs. The Hot Springs are nestled amongst beautiful mountains and have only been built recently with a number of different pools of different temperatures and sizes (ranging from large to MASSIVE) all joined by bridges and waterfalls! I was a little over eager to experience the contrast between the springs and splash pool and stupidly dove into a freezing splash pool which was only about twelve inches deep. Fortunately I only bruised and grazed my chest, it could have been much worse. I can’t find the words to describe how relaxing the hot water was after such hard trekking, the warmth of the water seemed to literally ease the aches and pains with every moment spent in it. I also had a shave for the first time in over a week, washed my hair and felt positively human again! SUCH a great feeling!That evening we relaxed back at the resort in the small town listening to songs of Bob Marley which drifted across from the bar which greeted me like a lovely old friend whilst drinking cheap red wine. We were also entertained by a cultural show from some local kids, two girls and a boy who amazed most of us with their talented traditional dancing. It was great fun, especially as they grabbed Phil and Maurica to join in with them. A little later, slightly drunk and the last ones up Julia and I were about to say goodnight when Phil who had just left for bed also accosted us, amazed that he had seen a planet in the sky which he could not identify which seemed brighter than any he had ever seen. We found the planet easily and all became stunned at the detail we had never noticed whilst elswhere… we were giddy with excitement at our discovery, that was until a local appeared out of nowhere and told us we were looking at a light on the top of mobile phone mast! DOH!DAY FOUROur final days trekking was, on reflection, the least special… For a start we had to carry our own rucksacks after the rest of our gear was shipped off back to Cusco (at which point I decided to put my sleeping bag in with the rest of the gear to keep my pack light, a decision I was later to regret). I guess I’d never really done any proper trekking with my rucksack, and although far less full and heavy than usual I soon realized that although I had a great rucksack it wasn’t REALLY that much fun to be carrying it any great distance! I did inevitably get used to it… although somewhat begrudgingly… as we made our way out of the town, down along a river which was beset with beautiful red mountains (due to a tall grass which was in bloom) and along to the Hydro Electricity plant. It was here during lunch that we learnt about the strike that was being held by the local transport employees against the government and their plans to expand the road infrastructure in the region, thus bringing all trains into and out of Machu Pichu to a halt for the following day. Although this was positive in the sense that we would be amongst far less tourists at the site the next day than usual, it also cast doubt on how we were to get back to Cusco. I soon realized that I might have a problem making my connecting bus to Lima, and in turn on to my flight out of there… Hmmm!??? Things were suddenly looking exciting!The next half days walking was the most grueling of the lot, not because of any steep mountains, but because it was along the railway track to Machu Picchu itself, a very tough terrain of large rocks to walk on which was actually quite boring in lots of long straight parts. Despite this I wouldn’t change to the four day trek as the walk was a good mental challenge and thankfully Edwardo also made parts interesting by pointing out sections of Mountains which were at the back of Machu Pichu itself, offering a seldom seen perspective on the place. We would all see this the next day and it would make sense… from MUCH higher up!On arriving in the comparative metropolis of Aguas Calientes that evening I made a bee line for the internet and a catch up with the real world before having dinner with our group in a restaurant which seemed to full of worried or very pissed off trekkers all freaked out about the transport strike. It was here that I saw Louise from Salta who had been part of a terrible tour with no vibe or atmosphere amongst the trekkers and which highlighted what a great guide we’d got in Edwardo. We trusted him. It would be ok.Day FiveAfter a horrifically early 4am start we convened at 04:30 in the pitch black to make our way up to Machu Picchu, the final destination of our trek and the main reason many of us had come to Peru if not South America. Many of the more expensive tours would be going up to the main site by bus, but in an effort to beat the crowds our tour set off on foot extra early, a strategy which was also designed to get us to the front of the queue to get the limited number of tickets to climb Wayna Picchu. It was still very dark as we began our ascent climbing the steep steps up to the site which took nearly an hour. A torch and large amount of water were therefore essential to prevent bad things happening! After 5 minutes of climbing the steep steps I was very much awake, sweating and breathing hard despite the intense trekking of the previous days raising my fitness level. Just when we were all feeling like a rest, the biggest challenge was yet to come…! Arriving at the top (which was really the bottom of the main site) I began to become aware of clouds surrounding me, of mountains which seemed strangely familiar as well as a magic in the stillness of the air around me I had felt no-where else before thus far.Meeting with a bunch of familiar faces from the previous 4 days trek at the top we convened on the steps at the entrance to the site and excitedly wrapped back up warm to wait the last 20 minutes or so before the site opened at around 6am. Soon the crowds had got a lot larger, daylight had arrived and we found ourselves at the front of the queue, the gates were opened and we were being herded towards the entrance. We got maps, our tickets were checked and bags searched and before we knew it we were IN MACHU PICCHU! Despite finally accomplishing this we had no time to take it all in as Edwardo took us to the classic photo opportunity spot at the Funerary Rock for a shot of the empty site with Wayna Picchu behind us. We took a number of photos as the air around me seemed to fill with electricity at the fact that I was there. I felt elated and emotional, proud and humbled. It was surreal. This strange feeling was amplified as Edwardo took us along his ‘short cuts’ and whipped us through the site to get to the Wayna Picchu entrance to queue for our tickets, stopping at a few choice locations along the way to point out their significance whilst the place was still quiet.After getting our tickets from the limited allocation of 200 for the day, Edwardo formalized himself to us in a way thus far unseen as he got his guide book out and gave us HIS tour of Machu Picchu. You could tell he was very proud to be delivering this to us and that he still found the place special. It was inspiring to see someone do a job they clearly love with such passion!After our extensive tour we made our way for a re-fuel at the Uber expensive site café (think London prices) where we saw my Scottish friends from the police station in Cusco who told us about the drama they had about their train tickets for the next day. It seemed there was a good chance we could now miss out completely on a train back to Cusco the next day unless Edwardo phoned our tour company and get things sorted. Unfortunately he didn’t have a signal at the site though!RE-WRITTEN BLOG ENDSUpon hearing about the problems Edwardo diligently decided to head back to Aguas Calientes to arrange our tickets which we were really grateful for, arranging a rendez vous at 4pm. From this moment on the clock was ticking on my Macchu Picchu experience. Admittedly I had a HELL of a lot of time at the site to fit in all my aspirations but then again there was it seemed a lot more to do, primarily climbing!After our feed we made haste towards Wayna Picchu. I approached with caution. Edwardo had said someone had fallen to their death recently when taking a photo and another tourist later on claimed someone had died just last week! Memories of the trepidation I held in my stomach on starting the climb at Uluru (aka Ayres Rock) came back to me, and as with that experience I was more afraid of the others around me than the climb itself. People can be as dumb as animals and more unpredictable some times. The climb itself is amazing, long deep views into ravines screaming 'BASE&nbsp;JUMP&nbsp;HERE' are on every corner and the fact that the Incas were able to put in not only infrastructure to enable access but also accommodation for people at various stages I found to be incredible. They could do <i>anything these buggers!After reaching the top and perching dangerously for photos on one of three MASSIVE&nbsp;rocks (which seemed… but obviously hadn't been helicoptored onto the top) I began my decent. I always hate going down more than going up and the experience was made even worse by some dipsy American women who seemed to have the mental age of 7 who was counting the steps on the way down. Her dumb ass husband was only going and encouraging her too, and a lot of these steps weren't big enough to fit half your foot on as shallow and steep as they were. It was an accident waiting to happen I wanted to tell her, but they were loving the attention as those struggling towards the top seemed amazed when they were told EXACTLY&nbsp;how far they had left to go to get to the top so I bit my tongue. Inevitably this lady slipped and fell on her arse, spraining her angle a little! Fortunately it wasn't on an ledge as it could have been the lots worse. Part of me inside was screaming 'I bloody knew that was coming a mile off', but I found myself unable to control the words as they came out telling her to 'concentrate on the steps, not counting'. I felt like a smart arse but she <i>was an IDIOT!Once at the bottom I felt the pressure still on, the urge to move, to see the site from the other side, from higher, to get the most out of the experience. Phil and Maurica were supposed to be coming too but they weren't keeping my pace, so I got my map out and navigated across the site to the trail up the back of the site and up Machu Picchu Mountain. At this stage the steps on the site alone were killing me, 5 days of trekking were catching up and I was losing my ability to push myself further. I&nbsp;pressed on however, feeling like a lunatic as the day turned into a searing mid afternoon heat. It had taken me an hour and a half to get up and down Wayna Picchu, and here I was taking on something bigger. It was starting to not feel fun. As I got higher I became aware I was going to have to limit my water, that there were less and less people doing this peak, and that I was getting close to complete physical exhaustion. I had to check my head. If I didn't take it easy and slow down I felt like I might faint, and if I&nbsp;fainted either no-one would find me for ages or I'd fall off an edge and die. I didn't fancy either!My climb was punctuated with regular stops after every two sets of stairs, usually having to give myself at least 30 seconds to catch my breath or sit down. I only passed two sets of people close to the top, the second being a couple of Americans who obliged in taking a photo as one of them said there was no-one else at the top. Somewhat dismayed I got the pic and pressed on regardless.What greeted me was a pleasant surprise, two Danish girls who had been on our trail and what I can only describe as one of the best views&nbsp;I have ever seen. I don't think I have ever seen more 'world' laid out before me, RE-WRITTEN BLOG BEGINSespecially with such diverse terrain and stunningly breathtaking vista.My hike had been worth it. I sat for a few moments and took it all in. I was here. I had done it. I could be proud of myself. If I traveled no where else in the world I was happy I had come here. Before long I had a strong sensation that having reached my final emotional and spiritual destination of the trip that I now had to start heading home, that I had to make it to my final physical destination. I had the strongest feeling that the road from the mountain downwards was the road home, that every step I now took was not towards here, but towards home. I considered sitting and soaking things up for longer than a few minutes, but it crossed my mind that if Edwardo hadn’t been able to secure a ticket on a train that there was a very real possibility that I might have to walk back to the Hot Springs that night and get a bus or a taxi. My legs were SO tired and this prospect actually frightened me. I also thought about the consequences of missing my bus from Cusco, that I might well then miss my plane. Standing and walking away from the site at the top of that mountain I had an urgency in my step which was driven by the realization that I was ready, that I actually WANTED to get home. I’d had enough. I was ready.My legs hurt more than they ever have in my life on the way back down. I endured, stopping only to say ‘thanks for having me’ to a seemingly wild Alpaca munching grass in the ruins of the site and then making the no-brainer decision to take a bus back to the town rather than walk – I COULDN’T TAKE ANY MORE!A mix up with the cost of the bus put me in a shit mood for the ride back. I was obviously over tired at this staage but I was greeted by Edwardo, Phil, Maurica and Julia back in town who gave me the good news that a ticket had been secured for the train the next day which soon put me in a good mood again. Learning we’d still got a good part of the second half of the Champions League final left it was decided we should go to the pub and drink beer. We watched Barcelona spank Man Utd quite satisfactorily before moving to new rooms for the night and getting ready for our last meal out as a group where we would meet our German friends as well as Louise, Gareth and Emily and &nbsp;take advantage of the competitively cheap restaurants and their crazy ‘4 for 1’ happy hour cocktail offers! JRE-WRITTEN BLOG ENDSAnother early start for the train which Phil and I got the first tickets for, a bus to Cusco which rather amusingly set on fire half way through (we were all off the bus in a flash, with a competitor service right behind us for us to all conveniently jump onto as we watched the driver and his buddy look at the smoke coming out with worried looks on their faces! HA HA! SUCKERS!). Clothes were cleaned, a right ball ache of a mix up between the tour company and the sleeping bag hire company needed to be sorted out (non of our equipment was sent back due to the strike), bags were packed and bus tickets collected and before I knew it I was on the 20 hour bus to Lima.During the night the road was really twisting, snaking its way around a night sky which hid the landscape from me in sickeningly rolling way which made me think it might be for the best? As daylight overcame the night it was revealed our bus was in an arid Mountainous desert. This was pretty far from my expectation of there being a main road highway linking two of the countries main cities. After some breakfast this terrain gave way to the Panamericana Sur, a straight southern coastal highway which revealed surf breaks and beach towns I wished I’d have more time to investigate. This planted the seeds of one final ambition for my arrival in Lima, to go for a surf!The bus ride underlined to me the fact that Peru is POOR, despite appearing rich compared to the comparatively destitute Bolivia. Many of the houses we passed on the bus were nothing more than mud shacks and the city of Lima itself seemed dull and somewhat grim, not helped by the grey cloud which overcast the day. My destination of Miraflores was then a pleasant surprise. Luckily my infamous Loki hostel was here and the affluent suburb with it’s modern trappings, unusual John F Kennedy park and a BEACH made the place seem perfect for my last 24 hours in South America.Meeting a girl called Olivia who it turned out is going to Glastonbury too, we did some shopping and then met later for dinner with her friend Emma, deciding to try Guinea Pig, the local delicacy, it being our respective last night in Peru. I have never had a more pointless meat or meal I don’t think, the poor critter came deep fried, perhaps in an effort to conceal the fact that it’s structure contained the merest strimmings of&nbsp; meat on it’s scrawny torso. What little meat there was didn’t taste bad, it didn’t taste like chicken, it was quite dark and gamey… but I was eating a PET for goodness sake!After a good ‘last night’s proper sleep’ before a mammoth weekend of travel I watched a bit of Everton getting beaten in the FA Cup by Chelsea before going for a surf lesson with local surfing genius Alfredo who taught me more in one lesson than I had ever learned in my limited five years of messing about in the water on my own. Get a really good Surf teacher and you will come on in leaps and bounds. I see this now, and was gutted not to have another few days in Lima to continue my training, especially as it only cost the equivalent of 10 pounds for two hours including pick up, board and wetsuit hire and one on one tuition.CONCLUSIONI write the end of my blog from the Kings Cross to Newcastle train, which I will jump off at at Northallerton. I didn’t even wash the sea from my hair (I left my shampoo in the shower the night before and someone knicked it!) before I was away from Lima in a taxi and onto my two flights with Iberian airways. For a long haul flight by the way these guys were by far the shittest airline I have flown with, in flight entertainment from 1989 and NO FOOD on the second flight from Milan to London (tight so and so’s).Spain greeted me like a country firing on all cylinders. From the air the place looked tidy, organised and clean. Compared to South America the building regulations almost jump out at you from the air and make the place look relatively heavenly. The country, in the grasp of summer, seemed alluring. I wanted to stay.I had to press on to London, and I was pleasantly surprised to not have the usual knee jerk reaction to ‘Grey Britain’. The sun was out, the sky was blue, and Blighty hadn’t spontaneously self combusted from Financial melt down. Cars were still running on the roads! Some people were even SMILING! Making my way across London I didn’t feel threatened or feel like I was going to get mugged ONCE!Hmmm – this place might not be so bad after all? I think I might just be able to tolerate a summer here after all. Glastonbury is calling and I have a potential job interview lined up for this week only a phone call away tomorrow I hope.As I stared at two Indian business men on the Heathrow Express this evening it struck me how much of the world I have seen. I might not have seen that much of it physically, but I have seen things culturally and poverty oriented which have brought me back to England with a broader perspective on the world. I feel well off, even without a job. I feel like no matter how bad it gets, there really is not much to get down about as long as you’re still breathing and you have your friends and family.Living out of a backpack for the last month, having had some of my most important possessions stolen, I realise I don’t need that much, that we get too caught up in the accumulation we are taught is necessary as part of our existence in the first world. ITS ALL A CHARADE! I have learnt that living life without a safety net can be fun and generally there is nothing to fear. What’s the worst that can happen? It seems the more one accumulates the more it drags you down. Sure, I hope I can get a job, I hope to go travelling again, but more than anything I think I have learned that happiness can be attained by the simple things in life and by living a simple life. As James Hetfield has sung on more than one occasion, ‘The less I have the more I gain, off the beaten path I reign, rover, wanderer, nomad, vagabond, call me what you will’. Amen.Night kids.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/robdy2k/1/1242930300/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/robdy2k/1/1242930300/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/robdy2k/1/1242930300/tpod.html Thu, 21 May 2009 15:08:08 -0400 RobD's travels in India / New Zealand / South America, Y2K+8/9

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Cusco, Peru

I write this from an internet cafe... there will be no more blogs from the keyboard of my Ultra Mobile PC... for the Everex Cloudbook is now in the hands of another, someone I don´t know, someone who is probably trying to get a good price for it along with my camera and hard drive, for yes, alas, I was robbed on the bus last night...These are the incidents which make the gossip spoken in hostel bars and busses around the world to which I have already alluded in my blog, I am only a part of the that process, a cog in the wheel of the backpacker machine which feeds the poor and drains the bank accounts of the more well off... It was bound to happen I guess, especially in South America, I´m just a little frustrated that I am now at my penultimate destination when it happened... so near and yet so far!The boring part of the story is that I boarded the bus from Puno to Cusco with Dan (Canadian) and Andrew 'Youngy' Young, our new friend and energy bomb of a crazy true blue northern Queensland Aussie. I love this guy already... Anyway... so the 10pm bus stopped at 12pm to pick up more people and I had to change seats and sit next to Youngy, moving my bag with said kit under a chair in the aisle... no overhead storage in the posh `Full Carma` bus which we had chosen for a treat.I didn`t sleep too great, there was a women with a baby behind us and two girls at the back who kept on going two and fro to the toilet. On being awoken by Youngey I started packing my pillow into my bag only to realise what was missing. I immediately started combing the bus, sure it would be under a seat or something. No such luck, I went outside and told my party what had happened. A girl called Gab did a good job of translating and the bus inspector said he wished we´d alerted him earlier so he could search the bus. Too late. My hostel pick up took me to the police station at the terminal and they said to go to the main station in Cusco later that day.This is where the story really begins... the experience of Peruvian police investigation.I caught a taxi and went to police station alone and on arrival met&nbsp;a Scottish&nbsp;couple in exactly the same situation as me having lost a laptop. By the looks on their faces they didn´t have their data backed up I don´t think?&nbsp;I&nbsp;was questioned initially by a very unhelpful&nbsp;officer who commenced the investigation on pen and paper, getting me to fill in silly questions such as marital status and not listening to the answers I was giving him. He started asking whether I had&nbsp;reciepts which I thought was ridiculous, and when I told him I had a&nbsp;photocopy of my camera reciept online he told me there was&nbsp;no internet! What sort of a police station was this? He said they have a lot of fake claims and needed to be sure, but upon consulting the Scottish couple half way through they said they thought the police were reluctant to report crimes so as not to tarnish the image of the tourist driven town.I started getting exacerbated when the office would not give me his full name but fortunately his partner, the younger and much more seemingly together Inspector Roger Cjuiro took over.&nbsp;Roger had much&nbsp;better English which was a relief and took over, asking me in to an office next door. I didn´t follow what went on exactly but Roger and a secretary&nbsp;started talking heatedly about what I&nbsp;thought was writing up my notes which were taken by the other officer. Things escalated quickly, passionately, as&nbsp;I noticed they seemed to repeatedly on the South American soap opera I was half watching over&nbsp;brunch with Dan and Youngy the previous day in Puno, pre Floating Islands (which were very nice and very interesting&nbsp;by the way but which I will say no more about as the only photos I don´t have a back up of were from there!). &nbsp;Ahem. Yes. I thought this rowing was only on TV, but seemingly it is like this in real life as Roger and his associate rowed like man and wife. As I was shown back to the original office I&nbsp;spoke to guy from massachusets who had also had his stuff stolen and having been to the police a couple of times now about it and being fluent in Spansih told me about a local market our stuff was likely to appear at this Saturday. Kindly he&nbsp;took details of my stuff in case he saw it looking for his which I was greatful for for the small ray of hope it provided.Next up I was suprised as I was asked to go to the bus&nbsp;station&nbsp;for further investigation. Not surprised that I was asked, more surprised that Roger did not have a car and asked if I wanted to get a taxi or minded walking! In the heat of the day, tired and emotional I&nbsp;walked to bus station&nbsp;and realised how beautiful Cusco is, with his&nbsp;rolling&nbsp;billous hills, large symbols and writing on the hillsides and big statues of Incan&nbsp;leaders. Roger upon asking, proceeded to explain a bit of history and suddenly I felt more like a privelaged tourist rather than a victim in the middle of a crime investication!At the&nbsp;bus terminal office of Power Buses there was lots of questioning of the office staff&nbsp;by Roger until a stalemate was reached and both sides of the counter reached for their mobile phones. At this stage I had to split for a sandwhich and a packet of Doritos as I hadn´t had any breakfast, but was surprised and laughing a little in amazement when I came back and found Roger on a landline chasing things up, only to finish his call and ask me if I had a mobile phone with any credit! What kind of resources do these Peruvian police have!!!??? On returning to the counter Roger had to deal with a local who was getting pissed off about Roger now&nbsp;pushing in, things were going from bad to worse. After getting a list of suspects from the seating plan we went to bus depot with a view to finding the bus, only to be told bus had left.&nbsp;This I&nbsp;believe was&nbsp;Rogers main goal and he had said as much at the station, but I knew that if I tried to tell him I'd seen the bus leaving straight away he wouldn't have belived me so just went along with him seeing through his investigation. In order to get&nbsp;the information he desired from the owner of the bus company (his name) Roger had to get the station police to accompany him this time. The reluctance with which the owner co-operated was explained away by Roger on our return to the station as being because the bag was not held in storage and therefore not their responsability, but the way&nbsp;they treated him made me suspcious they weren´t robbing their own customers themselves!I shared some Doritos with&nbsp;Roger on the way back to the station as we saw a man passed out in the street and he told me about the social problems with alcoholics in South America, only to go into further detail about his&nbsp;drunk partner who had been into rehab and come back out ok only to fall off the wagon again very quickly. Apparently a nightmare to work with. I wondered if this was the man of my first encounter... I think it was! Amazing... the whole experience was a total sham but I grew to like Roger over the hour or two I got to know him, his youth and professionalism perhaps being the stereotypical young cop you see in the movies, un-jaded by a life on the beat.So - I write from an internet cafe where I have had my back up of my photos backed up after a trip to a VERY busy bank to get my tax paid for the police report I need to claim on my insurance. What a pain in the arse, what a&nbsp;FARCE, but then again, as I thought as I was walking back to the station with Roger, it´s all good material for the blog, and that counts for a lot for me really when travelling! ;)
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/robdy2k/1/1242788100/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/robdy2k/1/1242788100/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/robdy2k/1/1242788100/tpod.html Tue, 19 May 2009 23:00:44 -0400 RobD's travels in India / New Zealand / South America, Y2K+8/9

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Puno, Peru

Reflections on Bolivia&nbsp;I left La Paz yesterday on the 2pm tourist bus with Dan (Canadian) from the Amazon Pampas tour. The four hour ride was beautiful, with some of the most amazing high altitude vistas and lots of little villages along the way enveloped in fields which had recently been harvested with small conical stacks of hay peppering the land.&nbsp;The big surprise of which I had been advised to look out for but not told what it was turned out to be a ferry system about 20 mins outside of Cocacobana which had very basic looking wooden single level boats. These it turned out took ALL vehicles one at a time across Lake Titikaka including our bus. We were made to disembark the bus and get on a ferry to keep the weight down. Other than this the day was uneventful, with a quick check into a guest house followed by booking onto trip to Isla Del Sol on Lake Titikaka for today.&nbsp;The boat out this morning was full and I was surprised when the lake soon revealed snow capped mountains in the distance which added an element to the scenery encountered during the two hour boat ride that served to make it in my opinion truly breathtaking and world class in its beauty.&nbsp;Side note: Altitude is something which has to be managed primarily by keeping yourself hydrated. After dropping down to almost sea level I have been struggling a bit back up at almost 4000 meters, so after a bit of a crappy sleep the night before, in part due to the altitude, I had done my best to really hydrate myself this morning, as usual. I DID go to the bathroom before the boat ride, but by the end of the thing the beauty of the mountains and islands around me had taken a back seat. Good Grief from Foo Fighters first album had come onto shuffle as we approached our destination and Dave Grohls furious punk rock riff-o-rama was just about keeping my focus to prevent my pissing myself. However, as the people took their time to get off the boad and I spied the Banos (toilet en Espanol) a way off I decided that being at the front of the boat having been chilling on the bow for the ride that the only thing for it unfortunately was to face away from the pier and piss into the lake from the boat. Disappointed in myself I sheepishly got off the boat as Dan passed me my bag, but I don't think he noticed. Phew! Sometimes a simple piss is more fulfilling than the most amazing scenery in the world!&nbsp;Ahem... meh... etc&nbsp;So the day was spent hiking the island in the strong rays of a high altitude clear blue sky. It was pretty hard going to be honest, after being given a guided tour of some of the highlights (footprints of the sun, Inca human virgin sacrifice stone tables, pre-Incan animal sacrifice stones, the head of a puma which gives the island its name and an Incan gods face both found in the rocks) we embarked on a 3 hour trek over the island which undulated in a way which presented some fairly challenging looking climbs. Said climbs, once embarked upon, made it fairly impossible for Dan and I to achieve our biggest challenge of talking, walking and eating our apples at the same time! It just wasn't possible and I soon found myself panting like an old man. Good training for Machu Pichu though!&nbsp;After lunch and another boat to a floating island (which is made of reeds and has houses, churches and look out towers as well as boats - very cool) we came back to Cocacobana and got our tickets out of here.&nbsp;Bolivia is an amazing country. I guess as I write now firmly in Peru on the Bus to Puno where I will stay for a night before going to Cusco, I can look back at the country with a confidence and contentment which perhaps can only be afforded by non of the horror stories which pepper interactions with fellow travelers at every meal and bar having happened to me! I thank the Incan God of the Sun that I was not held at gun point and taken to various cash points to withdraw money before having my passport taken and being put on a bus to the boarder.&nbsp;Bolivia is challenging, but mainly because of the altitude. It is rewarding in ways in which only countries which are significantly culturally different can be. The colours and clothes the women here wear remind you at every turn that you are somewhere different, far far away from home. Sure, most of the locals will try to get money out of you wherever possible, at every toilet, on the Isla del Sol today where there were extra costs for the ruins and the trek, but the charges are minimal and it's so cheap anyway you can't begrudge people trying to make a living. By and large people seem honest and happy to have you around. &nbsp;There are things which take a while to get used to. Most places struggle to provide change for large notes (100 Bolivianos, roughly 10 pounds is a massive note here), smaller towns don't have cash machines, so you have to be prepared, but don't carry too much money in case you get mugged! Restaurants will advertise a wide menu on their boards outside the establishments, only for you to go in hoping to get a Porridge breakfast only to be told it is impossible! Today I tried to order some Papas Fritas (chips) with lunch, the others I were with were getting chicken and chips and trout and chips (the Titikaka trout is a specialty and is delicious) only to be told 'no' Chips could not be provided on their own. Bewildering!&nbsp;Anomalies abound, contrasting the gap between 1st and 3rd world. You can generally get accommodation for 4 quid a night, but a good Pizza will probably cost you the same. A local Menu Del Dia will cost you a pound in some places (10 Bol) for&nbsp;FOUR courses, Salad, Soup, a meat main and fruit for dessert... (when are you booking your flight Dad? ;) Beers will cost you, and two drinks can equate to the same as a four hour bus ride. Finally, a certain bar in La Paz will serve Gringos with a line of cocaine with their drink - hows that for cultural difference!? I found out from people in the bar at Loki hostel that it's very easy to get hold of the stuff for about 6 pounds for what you would pay 40 for in the UK. This leads to Gringos getting stuck in La Paz and finding themselves in unfortunate circumstances. I was told by some Irish people that a fellow country man recently overstayed his welcome, got involved with drugs and the locals for a few months and ended up in too deep, off his head, and eventually shot dead unfortunately (http://www.irishtimes.com/newspaper/world/2009/0501/1224245759380.html) . Bolivia, like life itself of course, has teeth, but if you treat the place with respect, if you approach with caution, if you listen to people on the road and their stories then the place is AMAZING!&nbsp;Beat that Peru... now show me what you got!
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/robdy2k/1/1242693660/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/robdy2k/1/1242693660/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/robdy2k/1/1242693660/tpod.html Mon, 18 May 2009 21:02:26 -0400 RobD's travels in India / New Zealand / South America, Y2K+8/9

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Copacabana, Bolivia

This entry comes from the bus on the way to Copacabana from La Paz...Last night was crazy. I went to my first ever wrestling event, a regular Sunday fixture in La Paz and an experience I'd had recommended to me by some folk along the way in South America. &nbsp; I was keen as it didn't seem like there was much else to do in the city and Tracy who had been with me on the Pampas tour was up for it also so we booked ourselves in, eager to check out the fabled female 'traditional dress' wrestling which is fairly unique as far as I know... &nbsp; The venue itself ('Multifunctional Ceja El Alto') was located at the top of La Paz, a significant climb of another few hundred meters from where we were staying, in a basketball arena. The place was pretty run down and on arrival there was a bit of a ruckus outside being caused by a Bolivian man dressed in Hip-Hop style clothes, looking pretty hammered, who was shouting abuse at all the people going into the wrestling. This added to the general sense of danger about the place which seemed a bit of a dump, smelling quite badly of sewage outside the venue. &nbsp; Inside large groups of families filled the seats and the gringos sat in the prime seats at the front. We were promised the 'Titanes Del Ring' from the 'Asociacion Boliviviana De Catchascan' (Bolivian Wrestling Association) according to the flyer for the day and after we'd got our pop-corn first up was a pretty good fight between a very camp wrestler in pink trousers and a man in a skeleton suite. There was some quite spectacular moves which HAD to hurt as well as good humour with the (presumably gay) camp wrestlers special move seemingly involving kissing his opponent! After a bit of two-ing and fro-ing the Skeleton guy won and there was much applause from the audience who didn't seem to like gay wrestlers. Personally I'd really enjoyed cheering for either of the two bloke to smash each other and found the first bout to be decent entertainment. I was enjoying myself. &nbsp; Little could prepare me for what I was about to witness next though for the next bout between the fierce looking Comando Zabala (complete with para-military outfit) and both the female Yolanda La Amorosa and her short sidekick, a midget called Lidia Gotita de Amor. Both women were dressed traditionally and introduced themselves to the audience with a warm dignity, hoping we would enjoy the show, whereas the Commando came across as plain mean right from the start. &nbsp; To begin with the women seemed to make a good effort, with the midget getting some humor out of going for the Commandos nuts, but soon enough for some reason the referee began to take sides with the Zabala and a bad feeling began to come over me from what I was seeing. After Zabala twisted Lidia round by her hair a few times the ref and he started beating up Yolanda and doing moves on her like pulling her legs apart when she was on the floor, displaying her gusset to the audience. At this stage I was amazed to see not only fruit come flying in from random sections of the audience, but also plastic bottles and even chicken bones! As the Ref continued to take on Yolanda Zabala started attacking little Lidia by seemingly biting her head. I'm not sure if it wasn't real blood, I hope it was fake, but it soon started streaming down poor Lidias face. She started crying but the Commando was not through as he pulled her long traditionally platted hair up above her head to shoulder height as she sat there hysterical on the floor and he proceeded to pull a cigarette lighter out and laugh meanly as he set her hair ON FIRE! &nbsp; WTF!??? &nbsp; I couldn't believe what I was seeing or smelling, but worse (kind of ) was to come. As the audience pelted the two bad guys with fruit the girls put on a bit of a come back and the Commando came out of the ring,. Next thing I know he's near us and looking very angry as some of the audience shout abuse at him to which he take exception, shouting back right next to us at them over the barrier he then proceeds to spit at the audience, presumably at his detractors, but misses completely, his two angry projectiles of phlegm going all over Traceys hair and my friend Louise from Mendoza's jacket! &nbsp; We were all really shocked, I was really lucky not to get hit too, but more mayhem was to follow as the girls tried to clean themselves up fruit came flying from everywhere at the Commando, one orange missing and hitting poor Tracey on the back of the head. We HAD been warned that our ring side seats could be 'dangerous', but we didn't expect THIS! &nbsp; After another rubbish effort by the girls to take on the Commando (which to be honest wasn't surprising, the whole concept of smaller women fighting bigger men being not only absurd but by this stage I was feeling it to be abhorrent, obviously) the big man set himself up for his finishing move. At this point Yolanda was outside the ring, near our side, laid on the floor. To say the thing wasn't choreographed would be silly, she could have got up and run away at any time, but she just lay there as the Commando pulled a large plank of wood from under the ring and pulled the barrier with the audience closer so he could lay the plank down and put Yolanda onto his makeshift bridge. I couldn't believe my eyes as he then proceeded to&nbsp; launch himself from the top level of the ring out onto Yolanda, snapping the plank she was laid on and smashing her another 2 or 3 feet down onto the ground. It was spectacular but REALLY HORRIBLE! &nbsp; Yolanda didn't get up after that attack and the ref declared victory. Lidia got another load of abuse for a while after as Yolanda continued to lay there, seemingly unable to move for about another 5 mins before two of the organizers carried her out of the arena! &nbsp; Louise was disgusted and didn't return to her seat, but we couldn't leave as the bus we had paid for was taking a load of us after it had finished. Tracey and I sat through the next bout somewhat shellshocked, as we watched Ninja Boliviano take on about four opponents at the same time, Picudo take on Octagon who seems to injure his shoulder early on and leave the ring before the final bout between two women, Jenifer and Carmen Rojas which, after a little fighting between the two ladies, deteriorated into another men against women fight as the Doberman and scary looking Cobarde showed up to take on the girls. This fight was carnage, with Cobarde coming and spitting at more members of the audience near us, flour bombs being launched at the women and the piece de resistance of the evening as the women scuttled off and brought cakes to the arena, pulled the guys trousers down and performed their finishing moves of making the men sit in their cakes! &nbsp; To finish with, after victory was announced for the women, cake was hurled at high velocity into the audience, hitting an Asian girl I was sat next to square in the eye before the women then had one final go at beating each other up. &nbsp; We walked away shell shocked. Tracey had complained to the management saying that Gringos didn't like being spat on and Louise had done the same whilst away from the ring side, only to be apologized to profusely she told us on the bus. The lady had said they were unable to organize a refund, but they were very sorry, they would have a word with the wrestlers, and if she came back tomorrow they would be happy to organize a test, which Louise presumed to be an Aids test. &nbsp; Like a parachute jump, the wrestling was something I was happy to only experience the one time.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/robdy2k/1/1242582660/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/robdy2k/1/1242582660/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/robdy2k/1/1242582660/tpod.html Sun, 17 May 2009 14:13:07 -0400 RobD's travels in India / New Zealand / South America, Y2K+8/9

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La Paz, Bolivia

'You know where you are? You're in the Jungle baby! You're gonna DIE!' &nbsp; So said W. Axl Rose before performing Welcome To The Jungle live, a song which I couldn't get out of my head on Wednesday afternoon after booking my flight and heading to the airport in La Paz to catch a Bolivian domestic to Rurrenebeque. Actually, the former sentiment from Axl was indeed one which also crossed my mind at least once during my time in the national park at Pampas del Yacuma, Santa Rosa. I was in the Amazon Basin and things at times seemed to be a bit sketchy to say the least! &nbsp; Having been accosted by Tracy (from NZ and distinguished traveler of 38 countries no less) for a taxi share to the airport I made use of Lokis Hostels facilities after very little sleep on the overnight bus from Uyuni, getting a shower, getting my washing done, shoes shined, hostels booked for my return as well as checking out a bit of La Paz, including the Witches Market in the awesome ancient part of town and the Coca museum. La Paz KICKS ASS. It's got that edginess of a third world city, it has views of Snow capped mountains around each block which blow you away, it has old culture mixed with new, altitude and steep hills, crazy people shouting at you from taxis, people passed out on the street, markets with Llama fetuses (aforementioned Witches market - VERY weird!), it has it ALL seemingly. But I had no time for it all and had to dash for the unexpected fulfillment of a lifetime ambition to see the Amazon, the heart of mother Earth itself. &nbsp; After perhaps the most spectacular flight of my entire life (even better than flying over the Himalayas from Ladakh - flying out of the mountains which nestle La Paz itself is truly breathtaking) our 21 seater propeller plane landed on the grass runway at Rurrenabaque, perhaps the most quaint little aiport I've ever seen. The landing was smooth and the entrance into the humble airport itself cordoned off by one simple little fence. The first thing to hit me was the heat and humidity. In 24 hours I have NEVER experienced SUCH a contrast in atmospheres, from the thin freezing cold air of Uyuni at around 3700 meters to the tropical swelter of this place at about 180 meters. With just a t-shirt and a hoodie I felt overdressed as Tracy and I got the shuttle bus to the main town. &nbsp; After meeting up with Binita, a laid off former employee of JP Morgan from London (the SECOND person to be travelling as a result of the financial collapse, the first being an American who lost his job with Lehman Brothers in California who I met in Salta) and friend of Tracys from earlier on her trip we checked in with the Indigena Tour Company who were running our 3 day jaunt and prepared ourselves for the next days activities. &nbsp; Around 9:30am the following day we had met the rest of our group which was 11, split in two with a guide each. Our other two party members were Fernando and Marik from Czechoslovakia, two middle aged guys who were on holiday in S.A. for a month and who had met in the airport at Prague and spoke little English. First up was a 3 hour drive to our drop off point at the river, the tour itself comprising a visit to the wetlands of the Amazon Basin, therefore we had to get into the national park itself first. The ride was a little demoralizing to be honest, having landed in 'The Amazon' I had the preconception that everywhere would be thick with Rainforest. I should have guessed that the environmentalists weren't shitting me when I looked out at mile after mile of cleared land and cows feeding. Depressing isn't the word, and I instantly began to regret putting down the carnivorous option on the food preference for the tour the night before. Note to self... become a vegetarian for environmental reasons! &nbsp; We met Yuri, a gregarious middle aged local and our guide for the next three days at the river a little later and, after dousing ourselves in sun-screen and insect repellant, embarked on our long boat for the two hour ride to our destination of the Indigena 'Ecolodge'. First impressions of the river were spectacular, our first companions being Pink River Dolphins which surprised us by making themselves known from the off. I can't describe how odd it was to see these creatures in a river system, I guess a parallel could be drawn with how odd the dolphins themselves look compared to their ocean dwelling siblings... These guys are a little ugly, but nonetheless they brought an allure to the water which only their kind can for me... they looked awesome! &nbsp; From here on in the Pampas provided stimulation and entertainment, intrigue and amazement which I have never experienced before... the overriding theme on reflection being a balance of nature which I hadn't seen in my life before, a balance which I can only describe as truly perfect and achingly beautiful. In just the trip to our destination we saw the planets largest rodents the very cute looking Capybara, many of the 'curious by nature' little Squirrel Monkeys, Black Crowned Herons, Cormorants, Savanna Hawks and Red and Green Macaws... before arriving and being greeted at our destination by a rather large black Alligator! I guess we were all a little shocked to see this guy living directly below our accommodation, the eco-lodge being built on stilts amongst swamp land and tall trees filled with Squirrel Monkeys, the place came across to me almost like the Ewok Village from Star Wars! Nontheless, despite our reptile friends closeness I don't think I have ever stayed anywhere cooler, this place ROCKED plain and simple. &nbsp; After settling into our home for the next two nights our parties were put on the boat again to another spot up the river where we were to meet a bunch of other tour parties for a communal BBQ and drink at Sunset. Now I don't normally jump straight into a kick about , but something about coming from altitude and meeting a bunch of guides who were keen to kick some Gringo ass made me first to volunteer for a bare-foot game of footy against Bolivias Amazonian finest. Soon enough a bunch of Israelis were up for the challenge (including a MASSIVE bloke who I was pleased to see volunteer for the goal), completed by a few other cigarette wielding Brits and we were away... running through cow shit, retrieving the ball from under barbed wire fences and swamps and generally sweating like bastards! The humidity was a major factor which I will therefore blame on our 3 - 1 spanking, but the main point was FUN which was found in abundance... this was until we called it quits shortly after the sun went down to don a load more insect repellent and I discovered that what I'd thought was a sore foot was in fact what appeared to be half the ball of my big toe missing! &nbsp; I freaked out a bit to be honest, mainly inside... mainly at the prospect of my Peruvian trek to Machu Pichu being wrecked for next week. At a glance it looked like a serious injury and Tracey and a few others looked like they might pass out when they saw the thing... anyway, it was no big deal, after Yuri pored straight alcohol onto the thing (which caused me to request a beer, quick sharpish!) I realized that it was merely a large blister which had come away during the course of the game. Admittedly I'd lost a large chunk of skin, but twas merely a flesh wound and I was grateful my trip and tour had not been ruined! I thought about how soft our feet our compared to those who don't wear shoes and made a point to take more care of mine from hereon in! &nbsp; After a night time hunt for Alligators which only yielded a sighting of some babies the next days first activity was hunting for Anacondas in a swamp! You could say I had my reservations about this one... first up because we were informed that we were to be walking through swamp which was supposed to come over our wellies and my foot was lacking in skin somewhat but also because the night before we had been informed by a local whilst relaxing in hammocks that an unusual and relatively freezing weather system was coming over the Andes for the next day, bringing with it RAIN. Booo!!!! &nbsp; Sure enough, I reached for my blanket during the middle of the night and awoke to a grey, contrasting world which was again about as opposite to the clear blue skies and humidity of the previous day as one could imagine. I think we were all a tad relieved however, especially when we were told the Mossies wouldn't be out or the ferocious sand flies which had already made a meal out of some folk who had been on the jungle tour! Searching for Anacondas is not easy. First, they're brown. The floor is muddy brown, bespeckled with reeds and as you trudge through the water everything moves, much like a snake would move I'm sure if he heard me coming! Add to this the fact that there WERE quite a few mozzies about, as well as multiple other insects, by this time ist had started raining and the strategy we had been told to adopt for finding said Anacondas had seemed to fall apart... as our guide Yuri seemed to disappear off into the undergrowth... and I suddenly began to feel rather nervous. &nbsp; I had tried to take a compass bearing and looked at the time as we headed away from our departure point further into the swamp. 10, 15, 20 minutes passed with no sign of a snake and no sign of our guide. What were we supposed to do if we DID find a big reptile wrapped around our leg? After a bit of discussion on this point with Binita I decided to start talking about perhaps heading back to the boat, a little fed up, and where was Yuri anyway, wasn't it a bit unprofessional of him to leave a bunch of Gringos in a swamp? As soon as I voiced this fear sure enough Yuri seemed to appear out of no-where, almost I thought as though it was a test of our nerve, to see how long we could last. Personally I had definitely envisaged being stuck there without our boat or guide and definitely wasn't too fond of the idea, so I was a very relieved tourist when I saw him appear. &nbsp; My respect for the swamp was multiplied when we found Phil, an American guy from the other party who had a big brown hairy Tarantula on his arm, almost two thirds the size of his hand! We were all quite excited to see this amazing creature and each of us had a go at holding the little fella for some photos. As he crawled up my arm tentatively a small seed of an idea was planted in my head and as Phil announced his intention to take the spider back to our lodge one of my favorite album covers slowly revealed itself in my mind. &nbsp; However, this idea was yet to come to fruition as the two groups joined together and our guides took one last look for an Anaconda... we were all a bit fed up and ready to leave... and the decision was made to call it a day (a little disappointed, a little releaved). As we set off I realized that my Candian friend Dan was not with us. Who had seen him last? No one had seen him since we'd arrived, he'd pretty much gone off on his own! After a few moments the group started shouting his name. I gave a good effort but there was no response. It was really pissing down and the guides suggested we go back to the boat. I was keen to do this after my little panic before, but I also thought he'd be back at the boat, doubting he would have spent all that time on his own, at least an hour. At the front of the group except for our guide I was the first to hear he wasn't at the boat, so I was a bit disappointed after a while of being sat there with just the two Czechs, bailing water out of our leaky boat, feeling like a bit of a spare part as I heard the rest of the group shout his name from afar. Visions of a search party being sent out with Dan not being with the rest of the group at the lodge that night, left alone in the swamp for the night began to race through my head. I couldn't sit there for very long dammit, so after about 5 mins I got up off my arse to go back and look for the lad. &nbsp; As I headed out I saw Tracey coming back towards the boat. Have you found him I enquired, hopeful and relieved when she said they had found him thanks to waving her coat around above her head. Dan later confirmed he had had to climb a tree to see where everyone had gone. I was glad I hadn't been in his shoes, I'd have probably screamed like a girl! &nbsp; Screaming was not on the agenda as we gave our Wellies back a bit further down the river and I approached Phil with the idea to try and recreate the album cover of 'Earth Vs The Wildhearts' for a Facebook profile photo. I had gained a great deal of respect for Ginger for allowing himself to be immersed in black oil with just the front of his face showing, complete with Scorpion and Millipede roaming on his face. I used to be really nervous about creepy crawlys before I started travelling and think I almost had arachnophobia until I did my tree lopping job in Aussie where seeing Huntsman spiders was the norm, but this would be the ultimate test. I was real nervous as Phil brought my furry friend to my face and Dan took some shots, but after a while of him being on my head I began to relax. Unfortunately the spider seemed to prefer my hair to my face and we couldn't encourage him any further than my cheek, which left a feeling on there for a few hours later. The whole experience was pretty cool though, despite not getting a perfect shot, and I felt quite proud of how far I'd come from 6 years ago... &nbsp; After lunch we realized that an army of Squirrel Monkeys were on the move through the Lodge and spent a good amount of time feeding them and watching them play and fight, as well as feeding out Alligator friend below the kitchen some chicken bones from lunch. Later in the day we headed out dolphin spotting and Yuri took us to a part of the river which was safe for swimming. I was a bit nervous about swimming in the Amazon, not knowing what is below is always something that plays on my mind the first time I go in new water, so I didn't spend as long as some of the rest of the group who managed to get their toes nibbled&nbsp; by the creatures as they passed us by! &nbsp; An awesome sunset and some drinks and a game of 'Celebrity Drink While You Think' followed and after a good nights sleep we ventured out for the last time to go Piranha fishing. Yes, you guessed it, the same waters we had been swimming in were home to quite beautiful Red Piranhas, as well as smaller Piranhas, catfish and sardines. Yuri assured us that the Piranhas didn't like the deeper water we had been swimming in the night before, and were more likely to attack people in a lake where they would be in larger groups, matter of factly adding though that there were probably likely to have only been 7 or 8 of the critters swimming below us as we tried to befriend the dolphins the night before! &nbsp; After a good effort by our group fishing and only one Sardine caught by Tracy, and a couple of the Piranhas caught by Yuri (perfect for some photos) we rather despondently headed back to the lodge for the last time for lunch ( including a taster of a morsel of our Red Piranha which proved to be very nice and whose remains I hand fed to our resident Alligator, up close and personal!) before heading back to Rurrenabaque via a boat ride where yet more wildlife prevailed and again then to our destination by 4WD. After a much needed shower (my first since leaving Rurrenabaque - EWE!) our two groups met for a meal followed by a visit to the Mosquito bar and then on to the local 'Bannana Nightclub' to watch with bemusement as the locals danced the night away arm in arm to Bolivian Bossa Nova cheese which we all found a little difficult to dance to with our Western feet to be honest. &nbsp; I sign this blog off as I look out onto the mountains heading back into La Paz on the plane taking with me some very special memories of a special place which I hope is not the only one of it's kind in the future. The conservation efforts made by the Bolivian government to preserve&nbsp; the nature in the relatively vast swathes of this, the poorest country of South America are particularly admirable seen as they have not yet discovered all of the natural resources there that belong to the country. One would hope that other South American countries might take a leaf out of Bolivias book and preserve places such as these which keep the balance of nature preserved so well for future generations to experience. I'm sure there are very few other places on Earth which demonstrate so vividly how well balanced and interconnected Mother Nature is, particulalry in the bosom of the planet where life is still relatively unspoilt by man. If everyone saw this balance with their own eyes I'm sure we'd all realise the importance of not damaging it in the way we are...
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/robdy2k/1/1242212220/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/robdy2k/1/1242212220/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/robdy2k/1/1242212220/tpod.html Wed, 13 May 2009 07:11:47 -0400 RobD's travels in India / New Zealand / South America, Y2K+8/9

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La Paz, Bolivia

Tupiza&nbsp;´Wild wild´ - as Will Smith once rapped... yes, this place is more Wild West than you could hope to imagine.... So much so that Tupiza was the scene of Butch Cassidy and&nbsp; the Sundance Kids last stand... so you can perhaps imagine the cactus and&nbsp; barren landscapes, the oppressive heat and freezing morning chill... the red rock mountains and jutting rock formations that define the backdrop of the town, punctuated with white dashes of salt rock hlls... it's breathtaking environment and similar only to places I have been such as Uluru or Kata Tjuta in the Red Centre of Australia.&nbsp;You join me on the local bus from Tupiza to Uyruni, as Jim, Mandy and I chew on the cocoa leaves kindly provided by an old local women&nbsp;we sat next to on the bus to help alleviate the altitude headaches we have (currently roughly 3,300 Km high and rising) whilst listening to repetitive beats on our MP3 players... the leaves give me to the focus to write on what would otherwise be and intolerable bumpy journey with no windows out the front due to a strange configuration of the bus which seperates the driver from the passengers (perhaps to hide the cliff edge twists and turns we take through this barren landscape).&nbsp;I last wrote from Salta, Argentina which was really nothing other than a nice hostel with a friendly bunch of backpackers (specifically Jamiee, Leigha and Louise,&nbsp;two Canadians and a&nbsp;Kiwi) who were my friends during my stay. Typicaly we played table tennis and drank wine, Jamiee and Leigha joined me for my first run in Argentina, up to the very scenic hill in Salta which offers awesome views of the city. But alas, Salta was just that, just another city on a trip to South America which has thus far offered just that... cities. Not why I am travelling.&nbsp;THIS is why I am travelling, as we BELT along dirt road at inappropriate speed towards our destination. The type of landscape we cross is best defined by the facts... 220 odd Kms in roughly 8 hours. "It's gripped! Lets off road!" (The Fast Show anyone...?).&nbsp;Actually all the roads in Bolivia are supposed to be like this, so making progress towards my final country of Peru is going to have to be as&nbsp;accurately judged is possible.&nbsp;Tupiza was an AWESOME litlle town, a sweet little market square, a fabulous location for the 3 hour horse ride Jim, Mandy&nbsp; and I took into the surrounding country. I am almost a horse riding convert and would definitely say it's the only way to see the amazing landscapes which surrounded us, the slow pace and minimal carbon footprint seeming fitting after the fast pace and grime of the cities I have been in until now.&nbsp;So - the Salt&nbsp;flats of Uyuni are in front of me, where I plan to stay for long enough to do a one day tour and then on to La Paz from where I hope to do a&nbsp;three day amazon mission.&nbsp;A few random final observations...&nbsp;It's BLOODY cold here on a morning, our border crossing was perverse in the temperature change from Argentina, getting off the bus at 6am it must have been literally freezing which was a&nbsp;BIG shock for all (I whipped my coat out in record time!).&nbsp;First impressions of Boliva - third world and POOR. The standard of buildings and merchandise being sold here reminds me of India and it looked as though some buildings were made of mud brick like in Ladakh.&nbsp;It's CHEAP here. About one pound ten for a big beer and about the same for a local meal. It's a relief to my bank account for sure!&nbsp;Finally, the Spanish seems to be spoken slower here and the people look really native Indian indigenous... makes you feel like you REALLY are travelling... WAY HAY (chew- chew... ;)&nbsp;----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------&nbsp;Uryuni&nbsp;I write part two of this blog on another bumpy bus. This time I am alone, having left Mandi and Jim in Uryuni... and am en route to La Paz after only just over 24 hours in Uryuni itself.&nbsp;Have been super efficient with our time here, after arriving we shopped around for accommodation and then a tour for the following day. A special mention here must go to Hamahn from Mendoza who befriended us at the border and who hung out with us from the border to Tupiza and then to Uryuni. &nbsp;Hamahn works in a hostel in Mendoza and having a Spanish speaker with us definitely helped make things less stressful with things like getting the bus at the border (a REAL split second decision for me after being informed by some fellow travelers that the train I had intended to catch wasn't running that day... it was definatley one of those moments where I found myself thinking to myself 'what the hell am I doing, I'm not sure if this is right at all... oh well... here goes nothing´) as well as doing some useful translations for us with the locals on the bus&nbsp;as well (who thought we were from Argentina for some reason?).&nbsp;Side note - the bus I am just shook so hard I thought a wheel had fallen off! BTW - I must mention that the bus from Tupiza to Uyuni&nbsp;went across a part of the map in the Lonely Planet that doesn't actually have a road on it! The 220 Kms actually took us about 7 hours and at one point the road was so bad that the driver had to move into the desert as this was actually better than the road itself!&nbsp;OK - so Uyuni itself... I booked a 1 day tour to the Salt Flats for today yesterday evening after finding a hostel... MAN it was cold in town and everyone was freezing despite wearing all their clothes (with local hats and gloves sellers doing a brisk trade!). After a rubbish meal in a Western restaurant (a bit of a rip off at nearly 5 quid) and a good nights sleep Mandy, Jim and I packed our bags and booked our bus tickets for the onwards leg (theirs for Thurs night) and then set off for our separate tours to the same destination (theirs being a 3 day tour). The tour itself cost about 13 quid for me, for the full day including a steak dinner!&nbsp;First off was the railway graveyard (with only one track in the country the number of trains there was surprising), followed by a small town which we were taken to with a museam (consisting of salt sculptures) - really this place was just an excuse to sell us tatty souveniers, followed by a working Salt mine (above ground), a Salt hotel (made out of Salt bricks) and then to Corozan Del Salar, the main destination for the day, WAY out in the desert of a former lake which over many years ran dry and turned into Salt planes. Seriously, it's a strange place, like a winter wonderland mixed with the Sahara desert, a barren scorched white nothingness for miles and miles until, as you approach the focal point for the day, a large formation comes out of the distance to reveal an oasis of brown rock covered with lots of actually quite beautiful Cacti (is that right? Cacti?).&nbsp;After I'd climbed all over the ragged rock (which had an entry fee of one pound&nbsp;fifty&nbsp;due to it being a national park) I had my dinner and then got involved in taking photos with my fellow tourists, some Koreans, a Japanese girl, a Kiwi and an Aussie. The fun of the place is in taking trick of the eye photos which play on the lack of distance or foreground due to there being nothing but white sand and blue sky. Hence the ability to fight strange monsters the same size as you or to sit in a wine glass in just your knickers and bra as two girls on another did! There were also some awesome shots to be had by simply jumping into the air which I was encouraged to do by the Koreans and which, due to me not tightening the belt on my baggy trousers, caused me to tear a massive hole in the front of my cargo pants. The result of this was a photo of me jumping in the air with what looks suspiciously like a massive vagina (photo to follow) and also me commissioning a Bolivian man at the tourist building to sew my trouser front back together for 5 Bolivianos... about 50p. It felt quite surreal sitting there in my Superman undies watching his steady hand thread my crotch back up!&nbsp;I hope that this bumpy bus ride is the last I must endure in Bolivia. I hope to fly to the start and from the finish of my Amazon tour, thus avoiding a gnarly&nbsp;20 hour ride but whether this will happen depends on whether we have a dry day as the landing strip is a field! With it being rain forest obviously this is not guaranteed, but I'll be keeping my fingers crossed!&nbsp;For now... Ciou... RobertoPS - I post from La Paz where I arrived in one piece!
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Tupiza, Bolivia

Arrived here and decided to stay. AMAZING looking town. Was going to push through to Uyuni today but after 10hours on the bus I couldn´t face another 7 and have hooked up with Jim and Mandy from the Bikes and Wines tour. Had a kip and off horse riding now. This place looks AWESOME and is TOTALLY another (third) world!
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/robdy2k/1/1241801700/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/robdy2k/1/1241801700/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/robdy2k/1/1241801700/tpod.html Fri, 08 May 2009 13:04:58 -0400 RobD's travels in India / New Zealand / South America, Y2K+8/9

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Salta, Northern Argentina, Argentina

Moving. Mo move...&nbsp; muchos move... Mio MOVE...&nbsp;I leave Cordoba for Salta, Norhern Argentina. 12 hour bus ride. I leave James, accountant, 27, London, I have met Rosa and Sita (Germany and Holland respectively) from my hostel on this bus. I am due to meet Nicholas, Chef, Hip Hop DJ and former graffitist, now graf art connesour, 24, Victoria, Canada. I keep moving. I experience the good and the bad. The friendliest and most laid back hostel I have yet been to in Mendoza (Hostel Itika) with an owner who takes out his guests to clubs and buys us all champagne to celebrate Ruland from Hollands birthday, a 21 year old he has hardly known for less than a week. I find Palanka Hostel, Cordoba who Rosa tells me encourage you to party in their hostel till 4am &nbsp;(rather anti-social for Rosa who wished to sleep) and who then charge you if you stay in the hotel after 10am (even if you have left your bed on time). They tried to charge me after being out for the day when I came back to chill there for three hours before I caught my bus...&nbsp;I move.&nbsp;I move at pace. I have been here in South America over a week and I have much ground to make. This 12 hour bus ride is a drop in the ocean. From Salta to La Paz, Bolivia is 36 hours by bus and train. I will only stay one night in Salta, Friday night when I will hang out with Nicholas and get drunk and talk about music (he's a fellow geek) and PARTY. Then I will move. Dengue Fever abounds in Salta, similar to Ebola (though less lethal), it will make your internal organs bleed if you get bitten by a disease stricken Mosquito more than three times. Once alone will make you feel like you want to die. Swine flu??? Meh! &nbsp;Moving feels great. Moving seems to define me. To push me, to keep me on my toes, to make me draw breath, to think about myself, to think about who I am, to think about my surroundings, to think about those who came before and to think of those who will come. To think of the danger, to think of the fun, to think of the end game, to think about my life, to think about others, to talk to others, to tell them about yourself, to listen to their story, to talk about the world, to talk about how we talk, to not watch T.V. To be. To see. To move. It feels good.&nbsp;Today was a day which does not come along often, even when travelling far and wide. It was a day which defines who you are and how you hold yourself in the world, a day which defines your former actions and contextualizes your future and which shows you what it really is to live this life.&nbsp;I left Cordoba which itself appeared to be just another dirty city. I went with James and Nicholas to catch the short bus (35km ride which took over an hour for some reason?) to Villa Beatriz, Avellaneda 501 in the picturesque town of Alta Gracia, location of the Museo Casa Ernesto 'Che' Guevara. This place was Ernests home as a child, brought there by his parents as a small child due to the clean country air being conducive to improving his health as a result of respiratory problems as an infant which led to childhood asthma. So Che had asthma. #1 thing I did not know. Che was Argentinian. #2 thing I didn't know. Despite seeing The Motorcycle Diaries (WATCH IT) it was many years ago. I don't have a photographic memory, I don't even have a pencil drawing one often, so if you'd have asked me yesterday I'd have said Mr G was from Cuba perhaps?&nbsp;Ernest was AMAZING. Nicholas and I discussed how it appears he has led 10 lives perhaps in the 39 years he was alive. Che MOVED. MAN HE MOVED. HE DID NOT STOP MOVING.&nbsp;As a child, he was kept indoors due to his illness and DEVOURED books beyond his age... Jules Verne for instance... at the age of FOUR! As an adolescent he travelled around South America... THREE TIMES. Not only did he travel on the famous motorcycle which I was honored and in TOTAL AWE to see today, he did his first trip around South America on a flippin BIKE which he modified and but a small engine on! So Che was quite the able mechanic by the sounds of it.&nbsp;Ernest defied doctors orders and played rugby, he also became a doctor. He was inspired to become a revolutionary through his travels around his continent and through meeting a fellow revolutionary was soon a husband and father also. Moving again he became a soldier and freedom fighter. After succeeding in the liberation of Cuba with Fidel, he became a pioneer of the Volunteer movement. I was honored and amazed to find this out as my somewhat socialist mother spent a large part of her career working running a volunteers centre. Right on Mum, did you know about Che? His first voluntary work involved building schools and hospitals in Cuba, so he was a builder also. Through Fidels appointment Ernest travelled the world as a government minister for Cuba. Seeing all the photos of him meeting the leaders of countries such as Egypt, China, Congo and others dressed in his green army boilers suit, boots, beret and cigar was AMAZING, he never stopped being a soldier.&nbsp;How about the fact that Ernest was an impersonator, moving his image also from one which the whole world recognizes and from which through his adult life he barely deviated but who when required he was able to adapt from to go undercover to get into my destination for the weekend Bolivia to start a revolution and fight there. To die there. To be martyred there by the C.I.A.&nbsp;I am surprised Americans are allowed into Argentina at all.&nbsp;I want to find out more. I am humbled by such an amazing life, I am inspired, to say I am pleased I went is a massive understatement, I cannot find the superlative to express how visiting this place has impacted on me. But it is fitting that after the sun sets on today, again I move. I keep moving.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/robdy2k/1/1241608920/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/robdy2k/1/1241608920/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/robdy2k/1/1241608920/tpod.html Wed, 06 May 2009 17:38:51 -0400 RobD's travels in India / New Zealand / South America, Y2K+8/9

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Cordoba, Central Argentina, Argentina

HELL YES! &nbsp; I have arrived! &nbsp; South America presents itself like your dangerous, sexy, cool cousin that you're not supposed to like but can't help having a blast with... &nbsp; I prevail through the BEAUTIFUL hazy Andes towards Mendoza, Argentina is ahead of me after two nights in Santiago, time which like any traveler will tell you stretched itself out in a way which only new exciting experiences can. &nbsp; I presently have a problem. Apparently I don't have the correct entry stamp on a form I'm not sure if I ever got from immigration at the airport. I think it validates my VISA, but the driver didn't speak enough English for me to be sure. So I could be stuck at the border into Argentina with no-where to go? I thought I wouldn't be allowed on the bus at one point and that I'd have to go back to the&nbsp; city for someone to give me the stamp on a form, but he let me on so I hope I can do some persuading to someone who speaks better English than the driver? We shall see... &nbsp; Arrival at the hostel in Santiago saw me struggling through a thick fog of jet lag from which I am yet to adjust. After being sucked into my bed for an extra hour by a weight of tiredness which beat me down, I forced myself up and onto the Av O Higgins (Alameda) which runs through Los Heros in the City Centre and bought some Pizza (a small little number with topping stacked almost as high as the thing was wide!). I wondered onto a side street and found a bunch of bars, keen to find somewhere to hang out for the night. A Heavy Metal bar presented itself to me, amongst a mixture of discos, strip clubs and other joints which just didn't look as homely to me. I noticed an Iron Maiden video on the screen and the place was overrun with black t-shirts and long hair... I'd heard metal has a religious following here and had packed my Maiden T-Shirt from the Somewhere Back in Time tour I bought at Mount Smart Stadium in February especially for an occasion such as this! I popped back to the hostel, donned the mettelers-uniform and headed back to promptly buy myself the cheapest beer in the bar which came in a massive litre bottle for 1100 pesos. &nbsp; The atmos was pretty alive, especially when a metal classic came on the video juke box, and no-more so than when a Maiden tune came on (which was regularly) and the bar erupted in a broken English sing along which smeared a shit-eating grin right across my face. I felt at HOME. Fuck the place was smokey though! After spending nearly 3 years in countries with 'the ban' I was reminded what a good move it was as I was engulfed in fumes which clung to me like a... um... a 'bad smell'... (ahem)! &nbsp; I was soon joined by Fillipo and his brother (I can't remember his name, but lets just call him Franko), complete with Slayer Seasons In The Abyss T-Shirt and long hair. I was soon welcomed in broken, drunken English to Chile, told repeatedly by Franko that his brother was crazy and many many handshakes and toasts abounded. Right on! I started to feel settled and allowed myself to start getting drunk. I was also reminded by Franko that Slayers Tom Araya is from Chile and eventually the whole thing made perfect sense. Slayer are massively influenced by Maiden, Tom Araya is a GOD in this country, it follows that Maiden would be held in such high regard. Cool chips! &nbsp; I digress, I decided to try and pass on a little learned culture of Kiwi party spirit and introduced the guys to the concept of 'skulling' beers (downing them - nothing revolutionary in the concept but it seemed appropriate at the time)...the guys didn't seem to be too taken with the idea though and conveyed to me that the concept was common with Whisky in Chile, not with beer. Now I'm not sure how much they'd had before hand but when I convinced them to give it a go Franko promptly threw up in his mouth right in front of me, dribbling all down his front. I laughed but felt real bad too... and made a mental note that Kiwis are perhaps a bit more alcoholic than Chileans and not to suggest this again. &nbsp; Around this time Fillipo, who was a ball of nervous excited energy decided to tell me he had a gun (as in a small CONCEALED HAND GUN) and showed me it hidden in a flippin pencil case! I took his confession (well - it was more like boasting) in my stride and showed a passing interest whilst inside I was thinking 'WTF?'! His brother then re-iterated that Fillipo was crazy and I it was around this time that I asked him not to shoot me, half joking... I felt this was another rather large reminder of where I now was. &nbsp; &nbsp; 4/5/9 &nbsp; I write after having to give up my last blog due to the mountains making me sick through their sheer twist/turning-ness as well as my paranoia about my encounter at the boarder. More of that to follow... &nbsp; After my encounter with Fillipos small concealed dangerous weapon on my first night I rather sensibly decided to call it a night shortly afterwards, thanking them for their company and warm welcome and headed to my first dorm room in months (although I would be soon to realize that a jet lag had grabbed hold of me which would not let me go for a long frustrating time to come). &nbsp; Next day I got chatting to a guy at breakfast called Dave who was on the same flight as me who I had met the day before and a girl called Claudia from Sao Paulo. We hit it off and decided to spend the day discovering Santiago together. &nbsp; After chatting with reception about what to do we headed into town in the direction of what we thought was a historic site, scene of the founding fathers of the towns establishment of the city on ? hill. However, we actually were headed down empty streets towards a mass public demonstration. Friday was a bank holiday in Chile and Argentina and the day off was due to Labour Day. In South America they take their socialist workers opportunities for protest very seriously and, as we meandered down empty streets, we were told by the police (through Claudia who was gratefully our translator for the day!) that the streets we were on were not going to be safe later in the day due to the demonstrations. &nbsp; We then encountered said demonstrators, in what was an almost carnival like atmosphere parading through the streets chanting slogans and holding aloft many flags of Cuba and Che Guevara who is still a VERY big deal in Chile, singing and dancing in a fiesta style at various points. &nbsp; The affair seemed relaxed enough and it was difficult to envisage what we were to experience a few hours later. We soon realized we had been heading the wrong way for the historic side of town we had intended to go to and had instead reached the main city bus station where I took advantage of Claudia (not literally) and got her to order me a bus ticket to Mendoza before we headed back in the right direction the way we had come. &nbsp; After sampling McDonalds Chilean style we meandered onto the street where we now saw the formerly mellow army coming towards us. Now at the top end of the street we were on, earlier we'd seen these guys (and their especially mean almost Orwellian style vehicles) tucked away into the side streets, politely waiting their turn for their role in the days proceedings. It seems inevitable that they anticipated a ruckas and I must admit that initially, seeing them primed and ready to go a few hundered meters up the street I got almost the same suicidal urge I get when I see a shark when diving, that to approach it. 'It's ok, I'm English wot-wot, nothing to do with me, talli-ho' I thought and then came to my senses. I think Dave was having the same thoughts and after I'd consulted Claudia I began to see things her way, I began to get scared. &nbsp; Groups of people up the street moved from one corner of a road to another in a somewhat boystress manner and the TANKS and jeeps moved in. Incredulous, we couldn't believe our eyes as we saw the fully enclosed armoured tanks deploy a ferocious looking water cannon directly at the centre of the crowd as it went hurtling past at speed. Then, almost as if like a little sidekick smaller dog, a jeep came yapping behind towards the crowd, not afraid to mount the pavement as it 'PHFFFSSSSTTTT'ed' it's rather large payload of tear gas into the crowds midst. We were laughing our heads off at the surrealness of the situation, right behind us was a train station, McDonalds, various market stalls, all going about their business - this was CRAZY (THIS was South America)! &nbsp; As people came stumbling down the street towards us things took a more sinister turn. We discussed whether to try and circumvent the trouble through the main street and I suggested we use the subway to escape. As we weighed up our options some of the shops around us started to pull their shutters down as another melee erupted directly over the road from us. The folk who appeared to be heading up the opposite street scattered and seemed to transpire in front of us, almost like zombies out of a midst, sweating, crying a tear gas tragedy, looking vagrant and wild. We had to think on our feet as the police (who I had witnessed dragging a man by this collar backwards across the street in full riot gear) suddenly started to surround the station for an imminent assault. We realized we were trapped AND surrounded and instinctively headed in towards the underground train station which we realized as we descended it's steps was seemingly closing the gates at its entrance. &nbsp; As a stream of unaware people came up one side we rushed down the clear side of stairs towards a closed gate and had to squeeze around the stair hand rail and past people coming up at the bottom to reach our relative sanctuary. As we purchased our tickets and headed to our platform after a quick look at the map we allowed ourselves to breath a collective sigh of relief... a rather nervous sigh I might add... &nbsp; The rest of my time here has been relatively tame (my Mum will be pleased to read). &nbsp; I write this now on the bus to Cordoba from Mendoza (on the night bus, 5/5/9, with my new buddy James from London). &nbsp; The crossing at the boarder into Argentina was a bit of a nightmare to be honest. It was only after last nights kip that I beat the jet lag and back then, after spending the rest of the day sight seeing in relative tranquility in the centre of Santiago, followed by some local 'Pisco' cocktails and a visit to 'La Feria' nightclub (before which Dave, Claudia and I got VERY drunk on Red Wine and played shit-head with Claudias cousin and some Argentinian girls) that I left my room in a rather fuzzy headed state for the bus and the shenanigans with my entry card. &nbsp; At the boarder the Chilien immigration pulled me off the bus and took me into an office where I was not only interrogated by the army but also had my temperature taken and was asked health questions for what I assume was a Swine Flu test? After getting all my details I then got asked exactly the same questions again I think but this time in Spanish by the Chilian boarder kiosk, before the Argenian kiosk waved me through with no dramas. Oh - I had to then get my bags searched at which point I realized that my sun screen had exploded in my wash bag leaving white factor 30 EVERYWHERE. I headed to the Banyos (toilets) to clean up and when I came back my bag was gone (bag on the bus I hoped) and I was being hurried back onto the bus. Bit stressful but more annoying when compared to exhilaration of the near riot! &nbsp; Arrival at Hostel Itika in Mendoza saw me happy to discover an all you can drink BBQ out back with a bunch of folk already getting in the mood out back. Admittedly I was ready for bed but the opportunity for meeting people often gets you through the tiredness through sheer necessity to network and meet your next NBF (new best friend), ESPECIALLY after you've had half a day shitting yourself because you can't speak Spanish (I uploaded my Spanish lesson MP3s onto my player sharpish as a result of the border incident). &nbsp; The last two days have seen me do a bikes and wines tour yesterday and absailing, white water rafting and horse riding today, all through the rural parts of Mendoza with the stunning Andes as my backdrop. These mountains really do rival the Himalayas, which thrills me to see and the Spanish twist given to the place just adds to their unique character. &nbsp; Highlights include a police escort from Winery #6 (this was the 'tourist police' whose sole role it seemed in this part of town is to make sure people don't get run over when leaving their last winery drunk), realizing I was shitting myself at the prospect of Absailing off a cliff after getting instructions in SPANISH from my tour guide (well - I hadn't done it for nearly 18 years and was a bit rusty - it was all sweet after the first half though and I returned for a second visit) and some of the most gorgeous little batches in a part of the mountains where we did our horse ride. &nbsp; I was stoked to take up the challenge of a horse ride and succeed, not for fear of falling off but that I used to be highly allergic to horses. Managed to not touch it's mane (or my eyes) and it was all good. I felt like John Wayne and was surprised with myself and the horse how comfortable and in sync we were with each other. It was BRILLIANTLY trained and my one handed 'Argentinian' grip of the reigns allowed complete control of the beast with just the slightest nuance of movement. I can see why horse people love their animals now, they're awesome! &nbsp; So, on to Cordoba and a potential second skydive. I plan to be in Bolivia (where it's cheap!) by the end of the week. If the people and places are anything like as good as what I've experienced so far in S.A. I should be in for a kick ass time! J I'm already planning my second visit here and, after speaking to Maximilliano from Sciccily, Italy (who told me how he could get by with his Italian here if he spoke slowly - 2 languages for the price of one) I think I might go and live in Spain when I get back to learn the language! &nbsp; Adios amigos and Beunos Noches as I now attempt to sleep on this overnight bus to Cordoba!PS - check back later in the day for first round of photos.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/robdy2k/1/1241130600/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/robdy2k/1/1241130600/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/robdy2k/1/1241130600/tpod.html Mon, 04 May 2009 03:47:51 -0400 RobD's travels in India / New Zealand / South America, Y2K+8/9

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Auckland, New Zealand

1,2,3 and you're BACK IN THE ROOM!Almost as though awoken from a hypnotists trance the RobDY2K+9 Travel Blog is BACK as I am relinquished from the spell The Land Of The Long White Cloud has cast on me.Sat aboard LAN flight LA 800 somewhere roughly 4kilometers above the south pacific ocean I now look back at my last 8 months in New Zealand and the time I have had here. I left my blog consumed by the 9 - 5 (well - 07:30 to 15:30 if I was on the early shift!) working for Wesfarmers Insurance Division at Lumley Insurance in my Service Desk role. A comfortable job, conveniently located in the middle of Auckland working with a great bunch of people in a lovely environment right down near the harbor - I could not have asked for more from a job. Special mention must go here to my awesome team, Daniel Nimmo (the foundation of our team), Daniel Williams (aka 'Heavy D' - the life and soul of the Service Desk) and our esteemed team lead Mr Simon Edwards, a more typical Gooners fan you could not expect to meet - an all round top South Londoner. A right motley crew and no mistake (Oooo - the NOISE we made in that open plan office!), but also a team which knew how to work hard as well as how to have FUN, a crucial element to working on any service desk. Another s pecial mention to our guru and mentor, Mr Iain Palmer, a stand-up guy who provided the experience and knowledge to allow us all to keep the business running, a man without whom we often could not operate.... So working at Lumley was all-gravey, and the balance a job on a shift pattern offered was appreciated as I did my best in the final third of 2008 to socialize and find my feet in what was at the time a pretty grey and somewhat uninspiring city. I've gotta admit that there were times when Auckland felt somewhat dull, traipsing up and down Queen Street looking for inspiration in the same old bars and hang outs limited by the futility of no car and a pretty rubbish public transport system. Couple this with a flat-mate/best-mate embroiled in a relationship with a girl which usually resulted in him pissing off away at the weekend in said girlfriends car and what you had was a rather unhappy Rob. Admittedly my heart was still in England at this point and only time was going to change that.I guess the real turning point for me was thanks to Party Marty and his magic bus. A Kiwi Socialite in only the way the perhaps gay men can be (this guy spent his LIFE out and about partying and made a full-time job of it), Marty is a man of great legend amongst certain Aucklanders. I believe this legend will not be tarnished as he has now relocated to Dubai I believe, preserving his reputation by going out at the top of his game. but his legacy prevails due in no small part to events such as the Magic Bus which he organized and got a bunch of people together to get pissed on a bus all day at various pretty great spots around Auckland, with loud music and booze on the bus in between spots (BYO of course!), all culminating in a party at the top of the Auckland Sky City hotel penthouse pool for a private party with DJs and a bar (if you'd run out of your own booze). What this event demonstrated to me was both some great new spots to hang out in Auckland but also a rather marvelous social scene which I had yet to tap into. Admittedly the way things turned out I am only really in touch with two people from the bus party (hello Emma and Nick!), but in a dark moment of un-inspiration the Magic Bus gave me new hope that I could actually grow to quite like this Kiwi life! Hooray for that!Next highlight of the year was definitely Rhythm and Vines. These shenanigans came about thanks to one of my musical hero's Public Enemy announcing their addition to the bill to make what looked like a good festival into a real hum-dinger of a line up. Sufficiently convinced, Chris and I bought tickets and set about planning 5 days of hedonism over New Years in sunny old Gisbourne (sight of Captain Cooks first landing in NZ history fans!). Having met my match for geeking about music earlier in the month at Deschlers on High Street in Auckland when I first met Klara and her friend Sally, I set about persuading my new best friend to come with Chris and I and our slightly less new friends Rob (from Luton) and Tina (a cracking Leeds lass I tell thee). Due to Klara's enthusiasm for live music and bands as well as my enthusiasm about P.E. playing it didn't take much persuading and soon we were getting acquainted with NZ's first EVER 3 day summer camping music festival. Hell yeah! This gig was smokin'! Alright, so we were older than most of 'the kids', but a two day warm up at BW Campgrounds pre-party ON THE BEACH in a location which easily stands up againt your Byron Bays or Noosas in Aussie (complete with kick ass Bikini Jam - deffo gona put few pics of the winner up fellas!) followed by 3 days worth of New Years madness in a BEAUTIFUL OASIS of a vineyard in the lush Hawkes Bay hillside was enough to leave me thoroughly satisfied and keen for another bash next year. Seriously, R&amp;V is as good as any medium sized festival in Europe and comparisons kept being made to Rob Da Bank's Bestival on the Isle of White by Chris and I, a true complement if you've ever been. DEFINATE HIGHLIGHTS for me include being PUNCHED in the face whilst off mine at the front of the crowd for P.E. (amazing how being in front of Chuck D makes one a tremendous ambassador in the face of physical violence and I was soon shaking hands with my 'nervous in crowds' large Maori Assailant), more euphoria to Shihad (put bluntly, the Kiwi Oasis) on NYE night itself, a New Years Kiss from the lovely Roberta McCaul which totally blew my mind (as well as serving to fetch my heart firmly back to New Zealand from Leeds where it had been 'loitering' for the past 6 months - CATCH UP HEART!!!! - THANKS Bobbi!) and finally, dancing in the woods to hard-out Drum N' Bass whilst the first sunrise of 2009 rose above me whilst watching various staunch party people soak up the last act of a wearing yet highly enjoyable PROPER festival, a first I feel for New Zealand at large. GREAT VIBE! Totally fabulous memories I will cherish, however not as much as the friendship with Klara which BLOSSOMED after R&amp;V due to an impromptu road trip to Mount Manganui for my second visit there after being WELL impressed the first time I visited the place with my folks and Hannah back in 2004. The place had only changed for the better and Klara and I had a blast, the perfect end to a sweet two week Christmas holiday the sort of which you just don't get in that frosty Northern Hemisphere!Talking of Christmas, extra special thanks must go to Cassandra and her Mum for putting Kristen, Christopher, Jeremy and I up at her place for a homely Kiwi family Christmas. At a time of year when one can become most homesick, being welcomed into the bosom of another family is the perfect antidote to the distance between oneself and ones loved ones. I guess also that you can't wish for anything more whilst travelling than the cultural experience of living with the locals, especially at a time of celebration and we were treated to the works with regards to a Kiwi Christmas in Hastings with a family Champagne BBQ breakfast and a full dinner out in the back garden in the blazing Eastern Sun (people - the sun there is MEAN!) Great job Mrs Wilde, THANKS again to you and Cass! A gentle social rhythm developed after Xmas, with regular visits to Dechlers and Cassette #9 with Klara and Sally, who I continued to fall in love with due to their impressive Kiwi Indie-scenesters inside knowledge and their recommendations of gigs to attend and bands to see which I trusted implicitly! Their recommendations never failed me ONCE! Hardened drinkers also MUCHO BOOZING prevailed, ESPECIALLY on a school night (but admittedly only when I was on the late shift), much to the delight of my co-workers at Lumley who generally laughed at my hangovers and generally still-drunken state on a Friday morning (and a Wednesday morning eventually when Cassette's cheap drinks on it's student / backpacker night eventually won us over on a Tuesday night, particularly with the allure of $4 house drinks and $7 teapots, the Long Island Iced Tea being my particular specialty, despite horrendous heart burn usually the next day). Many tales of weeknight drinking and debauchery kept the service desk entertained the next morning and I've gotta say I enjoyed trying to remember telling the tale, ESPECIALLY when I looked at my camera phone photo's and the bits and pieces of the puzzle of the end of the night inevitably came together - we've all been there right? A summer of love evolved personally after I met Anna at Christmas in the Park (the Domain) and our relationship grew over the next three months, bringing a whole new level of contentment to my NZ experience. Getting to know a lovely young woman and her friends, as well as learning about her city as HER home is something I recommend ANYONE who is single and overseas experience. It's BRILLIANT! Suddenly I was getting to know the rather posh suburb of Remuera, catching the train in to work, spending weekends discovering the beaches of the North Shore (Long Bay being a particular favorite and special memory for me) and meeting a whole new bunch of lovely Kiwis who welcomed me into their lives as one of their own very quickly. Its gotta be said they're a hospitable and relaxed bunch these Kiwis, and they're generally a lot less intense than some of the folk from next door (G'Day AUSSIES!). My next holiday after Rhythm and Vines was spent with my Mum and Dad who came to visit in Feb and with whom I covered the North East and Northland of NZ. Hiring a 'Spaceship' we learned how to travel together again (having last travelled in NZ 5 years ago) and how to live in each others pockets for two weeks. Initially there was the usual family tension but in no time really we learned to get along and have an adventure together, checking out some of NZs finest beaches, restaurants and countryside and clocking up an impressive few thousand Kilometers on the Spaceship.Highlights for sure are Pihia and Russell, both with Anna and my folks and again with just the olds for a return portion as well as visiting Waitangi where the Kiwi nation was established in the 1800s. I also have fond memories of our last night together as a family in a shitty little caravan just off Takapuna beach laughing our asses off (a wee bit tipsy on Red Wine) at just how we had managed to save what was possibly the smallest, most cramped accommodation of the trip for our last night! WTF!!!??? fº So - my last few weeks were full of various farewells and send offs, first for Anna who departed for Mexico a week and a half before I left and then for myself. A Mexican themed party in Anna's house was one of the parties of trip for me, made extra special by the fact that Klara and I got to DJ together! YES! fº An Easter weekend in Christchurch with Anna's family was another treat, again getting the full Kiwi family experience (as well as a VERY thorough tour of the farming town of Ashburton where Anna's family are from). A family station wagon was hired for a trip to&nbsp;Akaroa where we went on a boat dolphin spotting which was a definite highlight, as well as the overwhelming beauty of the place itself. Last but not least I must mention my best friend and now former flat mate Chris, a man without whose friendship and companionship would have made my time in NZ intolerable. Yes, people referred to us as married (we got bitching and moaning and rowing down to an enjoyable art form!), we called each other 'husband', we physically fought LOTS - (play fighting of course - he ALWAYS beat me despite me kicking his ass week in week out at the gym), we got HORRIFICALLY drunk together and made cocks of ourselves, offending people (mainly Chris actually), we kept each other awake with our shagging, we annoyed each other with our little domestic habits, but most of all we were TOTAL BEST FRIENDS, we told each other all our thoughts and feelings, all our hopes and fears, our deepest secrets (which we both were guilty of then broadcasting!) and we LAUGHED OUR HEADS OFF together, LOTS at MANY silly, ludicrous and down right immature incidents of tomfoolery. I hope your knee gets better Christoph! I love you bro! SO - on reflection, I feel there was no box left un-ticked. Actually, I failed at my main objective of becoming a good surfer, but people - that shit takes TIME! With that in mind, as I said goodbye to my best friends and colleagues today I resolved to come back to the land of the Long White Cloud in 2010 and learn to surf PROPERLY and to probably go to Rhythm and Vines 2010.Chile beckons and Argentina shortly afterwards... swine flu abounds. People on the planes are wearing masks! The world has changed in less than a week and I travel in a world gripped by panic. HARDEN UP I say (as the Kiwis are so fond of saying). As Metallica and specifically 'Papa' James Hetfield said in 2008 on the anthem to survival 'Broken Beat and Scarred' (my personal source of strength and Chris and my 'press up song'!) from the AWE INSPRING DEATH MAGNETIC - 'WHAT DON'T KILL YOU MAKE YOU MORE STRONG!' Remember that people!Regular service will now be resumed on this blog... Laters!
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