Another World

Trip Start May 07, 2003
Trip End Sep 05, 2005

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Flag of Peru  ,
Tuesday, January 27, 2004

These be sad hours indeed, my last in Latin America (for now). How am I going to survive without the wild fiestas, the adorable chocolate skinned ninos running about everywhere, the suicidal but infinitely enjoyable driving skills, the gorgeous Latinas around every corner, the dancing, the Spanish, EVERYTHING - I really don't know. There's going be a strange sense of confusion when I go to the toilet and realise that it's actually fucking disgusting to put the shitey bog roll in the bin instead of down the toilet, when old
ladies aren't throw bulging bags of trash out the bus window without a care, when I can fart at leisure without a worry of filling ma shorts wi chocolate icing, when cars and buses aren't actually falling to bits with tyres as bald as Maw Tereasa's snatch, when old men and young children urinate in unseen places instead of in the main town plaza in the middle of the day, when it is a surprise to find that the road or bridge hasn't been washed down the hill, when people actually have a fucking scooby what they're talking about when they give you directions! HOW AM I GOING TO SURVIVE? Life may well become quite boring... Then again... LA tomorrow, Fiji Friday... He he

I kinda ran out of superlatives on my last note about Bolivia. Then I went and did a tour of Salar de Uyuni. A place of the likes I've never seen or experienced before and surely will never even come close again. The world's largest and highest salt flat in this, the rainy season, the enormous expanse of which was covered in an inch of water, with it's salty viscosity, was dead calm as far as the eye could see and like, THE SEA. So we "sailed" across this mirror at high speed in our Jeep for hours, a wake like a ferry. Every pink cloud, snow capped mountain and volcano perfectly reflected, like one of those symmetrical fold over paint splodges you do as a child, that look like butterflies or bats or splodges. The horizon was invisible, the sky and land as one. An island in the middle of NOWHERE of rude supersized cactus formations, some with 20 foot boners others giving me two fat hairy fingers. A hotel made completely of salt.

Boiling seismic mud pits and screaming geysers bellowing steam into the freezing sunrise to warm your arse on at 5000m. Have you seen the sunrise at that altitude? The purest, whitest light, the clearest bluest sky, I must've been on the Moon. We drove across Mars, a fiery red desert of mind boggling vastness for hundreds of kilometers, trees made of stone, mountains coloured seven times over. Hot springs for a solitary wash on the edge of a green mineral lake, scarlet, creamy
blue and white ones too - dotted with pink flamingoes, vistas till infinity. We raced through a Salvador Dali painting for four days. Then I woke up. That can't have been the same planet surely? BIZARRE.

Colca Canyon wasn't bad either, but it's only the second deepest in the world. It used to be the deepest but they ludicrously found another one a few k's up the road only a couple a years back which is a mere 40m more profound. Standing on the edge, looking down 1000's of metres, the boiling whitewater of the Rio Chili was audible even from there. Condors wheeling round and round, real close. Large as light aircraft, never a twitch of their enormous wings, riding the thermals all the way to dead dog dinner.

Spent the last couple of days back in the heat, near the coast of Peru, in the desert. Ica, it could've been the Middle East. Huge steep dunes, surrounding an oasis town. Beach buggying and sand-boarding at breakneck speeds, face plants all the way down the dune into the scalding hot sand. My teeth still be grinding all that dirt out! My last attempt to do myself serious damage on this continent - but still alas, no success.

So now, a couple of days with some good friends in California, then to Fiji to meet the parents! I really can't wait to see them. Mainly because I've got them bringing all my stuff from home! Most of my things are now either long lost or completely falling to bits. My boots are stinking of horse shit with titanic holes, and my sandals - OOOOH BETSY! Those of you who've met me on this trip will be able to testify with increasing potency about the magic aroma of my sandals. I've actually been funding the end of my time here by selling the rare hallucinogenic mushrooms that are now growing out of them to other unsuspecting backpackers! Merrell should start a new marketing campaign - "Come buy our quality sandals, leave for a few months in sun and in no time at all you'll be blessed with the lingering and INEXTERMINABLE pungence of the arse crack of a homoerotic Afghan mud wrester!"

Well folks, over and out from Costa Rica, mas cuentos divertidos del otro lado del mundo...
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