Final Count Down...

After Diving, came to wonderfully beautiful Tyrona park, which, in reality, is just a park which involves hiking to a series of amazingly beautiful beaches. Its the picture everyone has in there head of paradise, white beaches, clear ocean, palm trees, coconuts. Oh, and of course sunshine!

I arrived with Bethany and we were later joined by Steph, Lou and Erafan. Our first night was spent sleeping in hammocks, gazing at the stars... Unfortunately, sounds nicer in words than it was in reality. We were positioned high on the rocks above the ocean, which although practical for avoiding mosquitos, it also provided a shockingly freezing sea wind, that resulted in keeping us up all night from the cold, so the following night we switched to tents.

Although shockingly beautiful, there really isn´t much else to say about the time spent in Tyrona, its completely desserted, and prohibited from bringing hard liquor into the site, I guess to stop people from drowning. So the nights were a little dull. To pass some time, we even went on a hike through the forest to some ruins. Exercise was a shock to these bodies that had spent days chilling on the beach. As the hike ended we stubbled across Mashette carrying men, who used these intruments to cut us some fresh coconuts. Yum.

We returned to Taganga, for yet another big night out, and more beach time. It proved to be a remarkably difficult place to leave. While in Taganga, I had the chance to meet Holly and Dan again, who´d I´d been traveling with from La Paz to Cuzco with. We caught up in our adventures since, they´d just gotten back from the Lost City Trek, and filled me in on their eventful night out when they returned with their tour guides, a father and son. When the pair asked the group were they wanted to go out, they said a nightclub... however, they kept taking them from stripclub to Brothel, including the girls from the trek. They also found out that along the Colombian Coast, its common for the father to ´help´their sons to loose their virginity, by providing them with a donkey, usually around the age of 10. Google proved it to be true...

Finally they decided to ditch the Brothels and returned to Taganga, where upon they were searched by the police, and unluckily, one of the guys from there hike had a tiny piece of weed remaining on him, so they had to bribe the police to get away. Rough night! I should point out, I¨ve never been in a place where I¨ve been more afraid of the police than the locals. I kept meeting fellow tourists who´d been stopped and searched and had cocaine planted on them and then having to pay massive bribes.

We finally left Taganga and returned to Cartagena to catch our flights. Bethany flew back to America and I back to Quito, where I await the finally count down to home...

ps, there would be beautiful photos but IM A IDIOT THAT LOST HER MEMORY KEY WITH ALL HER SOUTH AMERICA PHOTOS!!! GRRRRR

Jessica Timlin Hearts Diving

So never did I ever imagine I´d end up doing a diving course in South America, but Taganga is the place to start, one of the cheapest locations to get your Padi Cert, it seemed like a waste not to give it ago, especially when I had some cool amigos to join in with.

Me, Lou, Steph and Bethany started our course with Posidon Diving School, which began with a rather dull and cheesy 3 hour video on the joys, dangers and safety procedures surrounding Diving.

Some little introductory facts about Diving...

1. If you hold your breath while diving, you rupture a lung, so the most important rule for Diving is to NEVER EVER hold your breath.

2. If you ascend to fast, the excessive nitrogen which is now in your blood from the increased pressure of diving, won´t have enough time to work its way out and you can get the bends, or other decompression illnesses, and will have to go into a decompression chamber.

3. No one can dive below 40 m as the oxygen in your tank becomes poisoness.

4. Its important to equalize the pressure in your ear with the altering surrounding pressure as you descend or you risk causing injury to your eardrums.

These were just some of the cheerful facts we were introduced to through the video, but lets be honest, you´d have to be a bit dim if you held your breath, went up to fast, and you´d never go below 40m. Still the effects of pressure and volume of water slightly fascinate me, and the effects it can have on a person.

After the video it was off to a secluded beach to begin our diving exercises. This is right about where my ´freak out´began. I hated it, completely and absolutely for the first 2 hours and was so convinced that I was unable to go below the water, without the consuming fear of not having enough oxygen, that I thought I´d be cancelling the whole thing the next day. We were out with Gurt, our German instructor, and his assistant Juan. My ´freak out´was so ridiculous and illogical, that even when I was standing on the ground I couldn´t put my head underwater, even though I was breathing with the regulator. Fear is a funny thing. Every instinct in my body was telling me that what I was doing was wrong, I was going to drown, to get to the surface immediately. So, Gurt handed me over to Juan while the girls stayed in the company of Gurt who taught them the exercises.

Juan became my hero in those few hours, performing what I can only class as a small miracle. I´m not exactly sure how he did it, but slowly, bit by bit, he taught me to over-ride my instincts with rational thoughts, and to become comfortable and confident with my equipment. My mask wasn´t too big and my regulator was working normally despite my instance. At some point I realised I wasn´t scared anymore, and that I´d been swimming around under (very shallow) water with Juan for 10 minutes.

The girls had completed the exercises for the day, and with my new found confidence I joined Gurt and completed all the exercises first time. They involve tasks such as taking your regulator out and finding it again, flooding your mask underwater and blowing the water out to clear it, breathing from your buddies regulator (you always dive in pairs, your partner is called your buddy), breathing from a free flowing regulator (awful) taking your weight belt on and off, and many more.

The next morning we completed our remaining exercises in the pool, we learned emergency assents, how to find neutral bouyancy, swimming without our mask for a minute with a buddy, swimming while breathing through your buddies octopus, and probably a few more.

That afternoon began our dives. We did one that afternoon of 12m and one the following morning of 12m. Each dive typically began with us having to repreform some of the tricker exercises to Gurts satisfaction. Then began our walk under the sea. And thats when I fell in love with Diving. To anyone that hasn´t dived, its a pretty hard experience to adequtely describe. Its remarkably peaceful, and relaxing, probably due to the slow movement and controlled yoga like breathing. The feeling of weightlessness is pretty unique, I guess its a freeness you could imagine you would achieve if you grew wings and began to fly. And then of course theres the things you see, the fish just act as if your a normal and natural part of their surroundings, they swim relaxed and freely around you, and they´re beautiful. But what can´t be underestimated is the beauty of the corals and plants underwater. Weird would be a good description. At 24 its pretty refreshing to see a world completely new and alien to me. Quarter life crisis solved! The dives always pass remarkably quickly, and I was constantly frustrated to always be the first one running low on air so we´d have to begin to surface.

After the 12m dives, we moved on to 3 18m dives, which, as an open water diver, is as low as I´m qualified to dive. On our last dive Gurt brought the underwater camera with some hilarious results...

It borderlined on ridiculous the saddness I felt when we finished diving. I practically went into moarning and Bethany laughed at me as I sadly tried to recreate the feeling by swimming at the beach, but to no avail. Instead, we constrated on studying our PADI books for our up and coming exam. Needless to say with my obsessive new passion, I passed easily with 92 percent. We all passed infact, and proudly became open water divers. I have a feeling this isn´t the end...

P.S. Top 3 Diving Songs...

1. Grizzly Bear ´Deep Sea Diver´

2. Radiohead ´Pyramid Song´

3. Interpol ´Stella was a Diver´

I´m a nerd...

The wonderfully bizarre, Taganga

The town of Taganga is one that grows on you the longer you stay, and its also one of those places that many people get stuck in, but its not something to complain about. Its much smaller than the big cities of Santa Marta and Cartagena, with the advantage of a half decent beach. The place is flooded with hippies that sit on the street outside the supermarket making jewellery and playing music. The people of Taganga are amazing, an eclectic friendly, quirky bunch who are constantly eager to thankyou and welcome you for coming to Colombia.

Me and Sass checked into the strange Casa Blanca which is right on the beach, and at first seemed ok, but wore a little thin after a while, with a hostel door that didn´t close, no ventillation and the creepest nightguard I´ve come across yet. He was in the list of Taganga freak all-stars what continuously grows by the day. Often leaving people locked out and leering on the girls of the hostel. The worst story I heard was that he crawled into the bed of a girl I met staying there and began to spoon her as she slept...

The first night at Casa Blanca was yet another accidental big one... Sass went to meet her beautiful and lovely Argentinian man Octavio, while I stayed drinking on the terrace with Aussie Matt, Tim and Naomi. Matt and Tim had come to Taganga to do the Lost City Trek but had been putting the date back by the day, and were still there over a week later when I left. They gave me a lowdown on some of their favourite characters of Taganga, each with their own specially designated nicknames. ´Black Dog´ was a South American Albino child of about 1 or 2 years of age who´s father, ´Papa Dog´ was a miget with a rather creepy voice box who sang and played the harmonica to tourists for money, whos wife was ´Mama Dog´an overweight women. I didn´t believe such an unusual family existed, until I saw them with my own eyes together on the beach. Oh, and Mama Dog has a habit of slapping Papa Dog around a bit. How Black Dog was concieved does not bare to think about...

We all stayed up all night, which was broken up with night swims in the sea and finally the sunrise.

The next two days were fairly chilled, sunbathing, swimming, eating and getting to know the locals would pretty much sum it up. Then came Bethany, and the English sisters Lou and Steph and we inquired into starting Diving school and working our way and becoming PADI certified open water divers.

Finally, Colombia!!!

It took two flights for me to reach Cartagena, first I flew to Bogota and changed planes there. Colombian airports certainly are strick and thorough, haven´t seen so many sniffer dogs in one place, and the questioning you get going through immigrations was intense. It all took so much time that I had to run for my next plane.

However, I finally made it to Cartagena, and what hit my first was the intense heat when I got off the plane, its 40 plus all year round along this coast, what with it being on the equator. It was pretty strange walking through an airport decked out with snowflake and snowmen decorations when the climate says otherwise.

Colombias been the originally unplanned goal since arriving to South America, everyone along the way said it was there favourite country so I figured I´d have to squeeze it in.

It certainly is different to other south american countries, theres a big Carribean influence, the music becomes more reggae, the people happier and friendlier, its louder, water comes in a bag, and theres plenty of rum going around.

I spent my first night in the big city of Cartagena, but tragically spent it in the worst hostel I´ve been in yet, North Star, which was overpriced, ants in my bed and my matress was as thin as cardboard. However, it was only a stop of before I headed to the next Carribean city of Santa Marta, four hours away, and closer to the beautiful carribean beaches I was now craving.

Although not much goes on in Santa Marta, it had the bustling street business that I love in South America, street venders, markets, dogs everywhere you look, people on motorbikes narrowly missing pedestrians. I stayed in the Brisa Loca hostel, which made Santa Marta more interesting. I was due to meet up with Bethany again, the american girl I travelled with from Mendoza, Argentina to La Paz in Bolovia. She´d gone to Tyrona park but would return in a few days.
In my beautiful Air-conned room I met Sass, and English/French girl who´d lived in BA and planned on moving there permanently. Me and Sass made friends with the majority of the bar staff in the hostel which lead to some unplanned drunken but fun nights. I also met some interesting characters, including a Resturant owner who hated Argentinian women after his Argentinan ex wife turned out to be gay and divorced him taking much of his wealth. There are plenty of travellers who are trying to work things out along the way...

The day before Me and Sass were due to head to Taganga Bethany returned, which lead to much screaming and then catching up. It was nice to have a reunion toward the end of our trips.

Next came the crazy and amazing town of Taganga, where I´d spend my remaining time in Colombia...

Paranoid in Quito, Ecuador

The bus trip to Quito, Ecuador was a but nerve wrecking, what with the near mugging. The Ecuadorian boarders also have a reputation for being particularly dodgy, and, on top of that, Quito is known to be particularly notorious for tourist attacks, muggings and pickpockets. I met one girl who warned me never to carry ANYTHING on the streets in Quito, just money in socks or bra, and also to keep health insurance information on you at all times, because if anything happens to you, they´ll just let you die unless they see you have insurance to cover the costs...


Bare in mind, I´ve been hearing stories like these all around South America, but for some reason, the Quito ones stuck with me and made an impression, which I found more irritating than helpful.

Realistically, the bus trip was perfectly fine, but my paranoid mind made things a little uncomfortable. I was the only Gringo on the bus, but was sitting beside a very cute old ecuadorian lady who helped me out with crossings and so forth. I didn´t sleep much, partly from paranoia and partly from the numerous stops by the army, who´d get on, inspect luggage, question people, then get off. Two kids opposite me would cry every time this happened and try to hide something that their mother was keeping under their seats...

The plan when I arrived to Quito had been to catch the first bus to Cali in Columbia. However, I soon learned that there was no bus to Cali, that I´d have to catch a bus to the boarder, cross, catch another bus, and then another. After being on a bus all night, this didn´t sound ideal. I didn´t know what to do, and decided to book a hostel in Quito for one night while I figured it out.

I had arrived on a Sunday, which I hadn´t realised was the most dangerous day in Quito city because everything is closed and the streets are empty. My first impressions of Quito were a little warped as a result. Other travellers kept telling me how much they loved it there, but I was yet to see its charm.

Out of frustation I started to look into flights to Columbia. To be honest, long bus trips, after 3 months, were finally starting to grate on me. I was desperate to get to Columbia, and with only two and a half weeks left, I needed to get my beach time in the Carribean in before returning to rainy Ireland. Luckily I found cheap return flights to Cartagena, in the North on the Carribean. I would be missing the capital, Bogota and Medillan, which I´d heard amazing things about, but it was a sacrifice I was willing to make at this point for the beaches. Flights were booked for Tuesday morning so now all I had to do was wait and find a way to pass the time in Quito.

To people that don´t really know South America, it might sound strange that I felt I´d be safer in Columbia than Ecuador, but that is the case. I´m happy to say that most of the scare stories I heard when at home, from people that have never actually been to the continent I might add, were exadurated. Of course travelling always comes with added risks, I have never felt that for a second that it hasn´t been worth it, even when strange men are jumping into your taxi.

The next day I woke to find out that electricity in Ecuador gets cut for two hours, every day. Despite having masses of gas, they run the county of hydro-electricity, not to be eco friendly, they just make more money by selling the gas to america than using it. Because rain session has been fairly poor this year, theres not enough water, and to save energy, they cut the power for two hours.

I wanted to pass the day by visiting musuems, but unluckily, Mondays are the only day they shut. So instead I mostly just walked around the city, wrote in my journey and read. The city was certainly more enjoyable now that there were people in it.

The next morning I made my way to Quito airport, and couldn´t help but realise that in 2 and half weeks I´d be flying home from there... Finally it was my turn to freak out about being the backpacker who´s trips ending!

Beautiful... but nearly mugged, Mancora

The bus trip from Lima to Mancora is up there for memoriable bus trips along with those I took in Bolivia. First of it was half an hour delayed arriving, and while waiting I met another solo traveler, Matt from Oz, who´d been stuck talking to this Courtney Cox look-a-like who was possibly equally insane. She was joined by her three kids, about 4, 6 and 10, all hyper and fighting for your attention. All four of these crazy Canadians were eager to talk to me and Matt, and required alot of energy. I was looking forward to a break when we got on the bus, but when we get on it turns out me and Matt are beside each other, but the four crazy canadians are directly behind.... It looked like it would be a long bus trip for us.

And it was... 10 minutes into the journey, on the Lima motorway which is backed up with beeping traffic, a truck starts to overtake close to us, then mounts a curb, resulting in the top of this truck bumping into the top of our bus, shattering windows on the second deck where all the passengers are. I didn´t realise how bad it was until someones running downstairs to stop the driver because someones gotten glass in their face. We stop, the bus can´t continue and the girl gets medical help. Then we´re stopped right in the middle of this motorway for 5 hours. Nobodies sure whats going on, rumors there going to change the window change to we´re getting another bus, which eventually we do.

23 Hours later we arrive in Mancora were I leave everyone else, who are going to Ariqupa, Equador.
Mancora is close to the equadorian boarder, on the coast, and is a beautiful beach resort. I´d been recommended the Point hostel, which is a 15min walk from the town along the beach, but worth it. A chilled out place with plenty of hammocks and the staff were equally chilled and amazing, making dreamcatchers and doing yoga.
The first day was tragically spent getting sunburnt, which ruined my idea of learning to surf there. The next day Hijii, Hazel and Krishna rock up to the Loki there, along with a massive group of Australians, English and Irish. I bump into them that day on the beach and agree to come over that night to the Loki bar. It was Amanda, an Irish girls, birthday, so the celebrations are on. We drink, at the bar, which tragically isn´t as good as Loki Cusco, but still fun. When midnight hits Amanda gets a happy birthday and a requested ´maniac 2000´ which seems like an appropriately Irish song.

We all go down to the bars on the beach, and thats when I noticed how sketchy Mancora at night is. Surrounding the bar we were at was a huge group of men just starring at the tourists, and seemed to be waiting for an opportunity... The locals in Mancora were decidedly sketchy, they guys all sleazy in a very creepy way, even for south america. Two people got pickpocketed that night, and two had fake police search there bag and steal cameras. As a result, I wasn´t blown away by Mancora´s nightlife, outside of the Point. On Krishna´s insistence, two people joined me in my taxi home and then returned to Loki that night, just to make sure I got home ok. Shame I didn´t try and get people to do this the next night...

The next day, was largely filled with lazing around and swimming. Amanda had put me down for her birthday dinner in Loki that night. Because of the elections in Peru, there was to be no music played or alcohol sold that weekend. However, the alcohol rule didn´t seem to apply to hostels.

The dinner was good, but there was no real atmosphere without any music. I decided to call it a night early, I was catching a bus the next day to Quito.

I asked the receptionist in Loki to get me a good taxi, which in Mancora, are just tuc-tuc´s. This involved him just walking out the door and picking one of the many tuc-tuc drivers standing around, who, by the way, are always trying to sell you cocaine. Dodgy.
The drive back to my hostel is well lit up until the end, where theres one long dark road. This is the point where one gets a little nervy, especially when there´s another tuc-tuc following closely behind. This trailing tuc-tuc starts flashing its lights, and mine slows down to let it over take. It stops beside mine and a guy jumps from his to mine and starts grabbing for my bag, which, I don´t have. I´d gone out that night with money down my bra and my little camera in my hand. I suddenly realise whats going on and start screaming and kicking and pushing him until I successfully push him out. My drivers slow to react and I´m unsure on whether he´s in on it or not and just start screaming at him to drive fast to my hostel, scared that he´d stop, in which case I´d be stuck in the middle of nowhere in the dark with mr. mugger. Finally he drives fast, and I get to my hostel, unmugged. I go straight to the bar, tell my hostel friends the story, which results in many a shot and a laugh at the hardiness of Irish women.

That night I felt fine, but the next day I realised I was turning into the nervy traveller I despised, constantly looking over my shoulder and on edge. What made things worse was I was crossing into Equador alone that day/night and heading to one of South America´s most dangerous cities for tourist, Quito.

Lima, Peru

Due to protests, travelling around Peru by bus had suddenly become dangerous and hasselsome for the backpackers of South America. There are frequently such protests in Bolivia and Peru, from people who are unhappy because of incompetance with the governments. This time it was due to water charges. And protests here aren't what they are at home, its not just walking down O' Connell St with a plaquard, its blocking off all the main roads, causing mayhem, getting violent and throwing rocks and stones and buses for some reason. There were reports of this 18 hour bus trip taking over 40 hours, people trapped terrified for hours. So for all these reasons, we opted for flying, my first South American flying experience. For a continent so laid back, I wondered what flying here would be like, but its one thing they do pretty well. The planes are better than home, but you certainly pay for the privledge, theres no ryanair here unfortunately.

The flight was only an hour, and the funny thing about flying when you are already at high altitude to start is that your ears don't pop. In Lima airport Ducky and Desire made friends with one of the air hosts from our flight, Luigi who wanted to show us around Lima that night.

Originally Lima hadn't featured in my list of places to hit in South America, from what I'd heard, it was dangerous and had no real appeal for a tourist. However, passing through Lima is the only realistic way of making your way to Equador, and then, Colombia. So Lima it was, and I was pleasantly surprised. We stayed in what I've been told is the nicest part of the city, Miraflores, which was cosmopolitan, organised, clean and filled with chains I had not seen in months. I should point out these things are not neccesarily what I rate as important in a city when travelling but it was a nice change for a few days. Plus in the company of my three new amigos it was bound to be a laugh. We got a room in Pariwana, in the center of Miraflores and where the old Loki was located. For some reason no one could tell us where this Loki had moved to, not even tourist Information, so we settled instead.

Luigi the legend met us at our hostel that night, and despite initially being suspicious of his intentions on taking a group of gringos out, he was a very decent, nice guy and we all loved him. He taught us the words to the South American anthem, 'Rumba'.

Showing us the sights of Lima mostly consisted of us going to the supermarket a little tipsy and buying more drink and sampling as many tasters as we could find. We ended up going to a variety of nightclubs around the main bar streets of Lima but to be honest, I've kind of had my fill of Salsa, which is all that seemed to be going on here, so I don't rate Lima in my top ten nights out in S.A. This however didn't stop the fact that the next day I had a banging hangover that haunted me until I was cured with a Falafel and Coke.

Our time in Lima wasn't very eventful I'm afraid to say, and mostly consisted of shopping, the danger of travelling with three people about to leave the continent. I won't bore you with the details of our shopping escapades, and will leave things by saying that we stayed for 3 night, and then sadly I had to say goodbye to Merri who was going to Scotland to work, Desire who was returning to Sweden and Ducky who was going to Oz for the year to work. I continued my travels and ended up making my next stop Mancora, another unplanned stop, but a nice one, a coastal town in Northern Peru.

Cuscooooooo nights ;)

Back in Cusco, the next day Ducky and Merri moved to the legendary Loki to join me and Desire, and where we would have our celebratory night out. That day however we went for well earned Massages after hiking for 4 days. The Pervians ability to massage however leaves alot to be desired. More rough and ready than relaxing, and I nearly had a hard failure when I realised the not-so-small women was climbing onto my bed, straddling my head between her thighs while she massaged my back...

That night was a big one, not only were we celebrating finishing Macchu Picchu, but it was also the first time in a month I was drinking without the immediate feeling that I would vomit and I was no longer on antibiotics. So regardless to say that night I lived up to my Irish reputation and got good and shit faced. How else does one celebrate having been good and healthy for 4 full days?

Everyone else from the hike joined us in the Loki bar that night, including our tour guide Edy, who as the night wore on became increasingly pervy towards all the girls from the group, living up to the South American tour guide reputation.

What made the night additionally good was that a large quantity of people I'd met in South America had seemed to accumulate in Loki Cusco while I was gone, I was reunited with Emma from BA, Krishna, Hazel and Hijii from the Salt Flats and Noel and Emmett from La Paz. The Gringo trail in South America really is a wonder, despite the vastness of the continent you inevitably end up bumping into the same people again and again. Theres only two directions anyone you meet are going in, its either North or South.

We stayed in the bar watching and dancing to the Classic Rock band until they ended, then somehow ended up dancing on the bar before following the massive Loki crowd of about 30 Gringos to a rather empty nightclub which played classics such as Eminem 'my name is' and of course the South American anthem of 'Tonights going to be a good night, or whatever its called by the Black Eyed Peas, obviously for the tourists benefits. However we made the most of it and managed to dance on yet another bar...

A group quickly formed to leave onto 'Roots' a much better busier nightclub with a good selection of Raggae and Dance music. It was a good, drunk messy night, but I won't reveal any of the sordid details of it here, I'll just quote Merri with 'I don't understand, everyones just kissing everyone!!'

At 5am we decided to call it a night and headed back to Loki. Me and Merri jumped out of the taxi leaving Ducky to pay, and waited by the door, until we realised he was taking quite a while, and traffic was building on the hill behind. Next thing the ARMED security guard has his gun out, if giving out shit to some guy, is joined by others who all start kicking the guy whos now been beaten to the ground! I realise the guys got his gun out, and is pistol whipping some guy in the street while Duckys sitting in this taxi right by them. We thought both incidents were related in our drunken haze, start yelling a Ducky to get into the hostel before someone gets shot. Turns out, the taxi driver was trying to over-charge him by a dollar so he thinks its worth while to argue, in the mean time, while the taxi behind is held up by Ducky's arguing, some guy jumps in and tries to rob him, which our security guard witnesses and decides its time to become Steven Segal on his ass. All very dramatic for a dollar...

I'm glad to report, nobody got shot.

The next day was the best hang over ever. It started with Mc Donalds for lunch, gossip, then went onto a heavy day of shopping. Despite occasional vomit stops, we did well, especially when we found a beautiful Boutique with hand made originally dresses by an irish designer that had moved a few years ago. We were served REAL tea and cake while we tried on hundreds of dresses, and once we'd choosen they were altered to our exact sizes.

Making our way back to the hostel we then stumbled upon a tattoo parlor and that was it, Merri and Desire got tattoos while I got a new piercing, in my ear.

So cured of hangovers by shopping and scarring ourselves we returned to Loki happy women ready for our next adventure in Peru's capital Lima.

Salkantay, Macchu Pischu and beyond!!

Back in Cusco I spent 3 days recovering (and not drinking) on Antibiotics and preparing myself for my next trip, The Salkantay hike to Macchu Picchu. Sadly I had to say goodbye to Dan and Holly who were leaving for Equador and so I booked the trip to do with strangers, and worried about how much slower I'd be after my Choro Trail experience.





They picked me up, along with another girl from Loki, Desire from Sweden and we joined the others at the disgustingly early time of 4am and drove 3 hours to the town where the hike begins. My group was six people, Jacinta from Oz, Desire, Simon from Switzerland, Merri also from Oz who was traveling with Peter from Liverpool. I got lucky with my group, they were wonderful, Merri and Peter kept me laughing the whole way, although Simon's exciting stories about working in the packaging factory at home got old surprisingly early on...





The first day was the easy day, which made me and Merri worry about day two which was to be nortoriously hard. It mostly involved a walk along a country road in the hills, and was delightfully flat. Our Guide was Edy, who wasn't the most informative guide in the world but was concerned when I was lagging behind in points from a sore ankle.





Its pretty hard to talk about a hike, basically its alot of walking with very pretty sites along the way, and alot of getting to know each other very quickly. Food becomes very exciting, as does no rain. The first day however, meant, surprise surprise, I got sunburnt yet again! I think I´m starting to break some sort of record... This one was special though, lasted approx 10 days, involved pain, blistering, shedding of skin in volumes that I never knew possible, and finally a patchy tan...





The first night was damn cold, we were camped at the base of Salkantay mountain, approx 2500ft. We were camped under a shelter two to a tent, I shared with Desire, who had a funny habit of talking in her sleep and begining the day by chatting away to me in Swedish :) . Merri and Peter cracked us up at dinner with there never ending slagging matches, which inevitiably I ended up involved in from day two and up until we parted ways. I learned the finer details of life working in american summer camp, such as the codes words for annoying kids- POS (Piece of Shit). They also found my wonderful Irish accent hilarious... ¨Wheress Da Firee??¨





Day two we started by climbing uphill for approx 4 hours, to 4500 ft, up Salkantay Mountain, where we were met with snow! It was cold but beautiful, and at the top we made sacrifices with cocoa leaves and made stone monuments for the Gods who would grant our wishes. Then it was a descent down the other side, which, as usual, I found harder than up for some reason. It began to rain in the afternoon which was a bit miserable and restricted our vision, but I was happy when we reached our next camp.





Day Three, mostly involved treking through the jungle, which was nice, and in the morning was very exciting. Edy asked did we want to take a shortcut, which we soon found out was a vertical drop down a cliff... We giddily slid down and got very excitable with all the danger involved. The bottom wasn´t the end, we then reached the most terrifying of all the bridges so far, which was falling appart, was made of loosely tied together logs of wood with nothing to hold and a drop into a rushing river. I was terrified, but we all made it!





We walked for another few hours until we came to a road where a bus waited to take us to lunch and then onto a town where we continued by foot along the railway track to Aguas Calientes. At that point my legs were beginning to give up on me, but the thought of staying in a hostel with the long earned luxury of a shower kept me moving!





Finally, Day 4, and Macchu Picchu! We woke at 4am to climb a steep mountain to que for tickets to climb another mountain, Waynu Picchu! The pain had left and that morning I was mostly excited, having had dreams of sleeping in and missing the whole experience. We all made it up, and got our Waynu Picchu Tickets. Finally we were at the amazingly high Inka City, which I´m happy to report was not a disappointment after all the walking! Although full of tourists, it is still incredible. Edy had told us the mountain is sinking and we were lucky to see it before it does or before its closed, but Im unsure how true it is...





We had a more experienced tour guide in Macchu Picchu. Those Inkas turned out to be more than a series of painful stairs, and were very advantanced and impressive when it came to knowing the world around them. Alot of Tombs to be seen but tragically no mummys, ceramics, jewellery etc, because the man that rediscovered it was American, from Yale, and guess where many of Peru's national treasures now are... Yep, Yale.





Aside from the missing artifacts, its kept amazingly well, and we heard the sad story of how 180 spainards defeated thousands of Inkas because they believed the Spanards, in their shiney armor, to be Sungods... They killed the leader, and bickering between tribes made it easy for them to divide and conquer the Inkan empire...





At 10 we set about our Waynu Picchu hike. Me, Merri, and Peter stuck together going at mine and Merri's nice slow pace! It was damn steep and a little scary, but the view from the top was amazing once the clouds cleared and you looked down from Macchu Picchu from a height. Note: Be careful of the cliff edges on Waynu, a Japanese tourist fell of last year when she was walking backwards to take a photo...





After many miles, and alot of walking, it was all over. Me, Peter and Merri climbed down and bused back down to Aquas Caliente were we met Edy and organised our celebratory night for the following night :)

Jungle Mania!

Arriving to Cusco I was reunited with Dan and Holly in yet another Loki hostel. This one however was much prettier than that of La Paz, but just as much of a party hostel. I checked into there room 106 which turned out to be a super party room, comprised of us, some crazy London boys and some Aussie girls... all the drinking nations under one roof! So first night in Cusco was a good one!

Tragically however, I managed to get myself sick again the next day, and it was really getting old. Despite this me, Dan and Holly decided to go ahead and book our 4 day trek to Manu Jungle. Luckily my vomiting, fainting episodes lasted for 24 hours and off we went on Monday, with out wonderful guide Freddy. Freddy was born and raised in a little village in Manu jungle so had amazing inside knowledge about it all and all the plants and animals we saw. The first day involved a long car ride down with plenty of stops along the way where we hiked along the path and saw an amazing amount of birds (none of whos names I can remember) and some cappacino monkeys. We arrived to a jungle town just outside Manu where we stayed in a hostel ( along with large flying Cockroaches) for the night.

I loved the jungle, it was incrediably interesting but there were two things I rapidly had to adjust to, one was the intense humidity and the other was the constant swarm of insects, varying from mossies to stinging wasps the size of my head. Having said that, thanks to some amazing insect repellent I didn´t get bitten once, which means goodbye crazy Lariam Maleria tablets!

The 2nd day we drove another bit and stopped in a Cocoa farm for a look. We then got a terrifying boat (yay...) down the river into the jungle. We walked to our lodge which was wonderfully jungle chic! All wooden with no electricity and an outhouse with the kitchen outside under a shelter. After dropping our stuff off we hiked through the jungle for a bit where Freddy pointed out various plants all with different medical uses, and many hallucinagenic ones. He also pointed out the largest species of tree in the jungle which the native communities consult if they want to cut a plant down and also use it to curse people they don´t like. There are over 40 different languages spoken in the jungle by various communities, some of which still live in the stone age and have never seen fire. They only know of them through the communication they have with certain indigunous tribes.

One very sad thing I discovered about Manu Jungle was that in May of this year, the Peruivian government sold it to huge American Oil companies. The entire time we were there we heard and saw helicopters of the oil company. They are currently preforming explotions throughout to find oil, and when they do, they cut the forest, destroying wildlife that has taken hundreds of years to develope. What made me sadder was that western news didn´t deem it newsworthy and it is now too late to stop. I´m lucky I got to see it before its destroyed.

After lunch we crossed the river again, hiked for a bit then took a RAFT on a lagoon to bird watch and look out for the giant otters and rodents. We then waited till nightfall and saw Camens (like Aligators) and other strange creatures.

Unfortunately the 3rd day was yet another sick day for me, but I managed to get myself out of bed at 4 am, get on the boat, and go to the Salt Lick, where Macaws and other birds go early every morning. It was amazing, but after that I returned to bed for the day and slept for 35 hours, which was broken up by sickness and the occasional halluciation! Theres nothing like being sick in a room full of bugs and intense heat. Freddy brought me back some jungle medician which he made into tea but unfortunately, didn´t work to well.

The 4th and final day largely involved our trip back to Cusco. I still wasn´t feeling very well but Freddy told me we´d stop in the Jungle town to visit the doctor. He wasn´t there, so we went to the jungle Hospital instead! Wonderful experience! People mostly walk in there feet in the jungle, and it certainly wasn´t as clean as home, but they still managed to fix me with antibiotics which cost 1euro for over a weeks supply! Don´t think its worth claiming on the insurance somehow...

On the trip back, Freddy told us about our boat drivers previous night, in which him and his friend took a local hallucinagenic which is supposed to help you discover the meaning of life. However, they both just tripped out, he tried to beat up his girlfriend, but he had no strength in him so she just hit him and pushed him in the river! I was glad he told me this after our boat trip rather than before!

Isla del Sol, Puno and the Floating Islands

I met Fenna the next morning on our bus to Copacobana where we would join Evil Jess for the next three days on the beautiful Isla del Sol. I was happy to discover the vomiting had ended so it was a relatively peaceful bus trip. There was however one amusing part where we all had to disembark our bus, board a rickety boat, with no life jackets and cross a section of lake Titicaca. We watched as our bus drove onto a giant raft, with all our possessions, and sailed across the lake. It would be the beginning of a series of boat trips, and with it, my never ending, illogical fear of boats.

We met Jess in Copa, where she´d spent a few nights, and headed straight for, joy, yet another boat, to Isla Del Sol.

Isla Del Sol is an Island in the middle of what people like to say is the highest lake in the world, Lake Titicaca. It however is not the highest lake, but that doesn´t stop it from being beautiful and the closest thing to beach I´ve seen since Chile. The two main Island on this massive 8500 sq km lake (thank you Lonely Planet...) are Isla del Sol and Isla de la Luna. These two Islands are where the Inkas believed the sun and the moon were created and are damn impressive. There are no cars on Isla del Sol, and when you arrive you are forced to carry what is now a very heavy backpack up incrediably steep Inka stairs. If theres one thing those Inkas loved its hills with stairs. It is however worth it, the prettiest views of both sides of the island are from the top where the best hostels are. We celebrated our grueling climb with a bottle of wine on the terrace of our hotel watching the sunset.

That night however we were in for a bit of a scare. After dinner, Fenna began to develope a strange rash that started on her legs. After a half an hour however it had spread all over her body. It was 9.30 pm, and knowing that there was no doctor on the island, and the last boats had long departed me and Evil Jess could do nothing but fain calmness, reassuring her that it looked just like a heat rash. When ever she left the room however we let our facade of calm fall and freaked out. We had no idea what was causing it and when her lips began to swell we decided to go to speak to the lady of the house. Upon looking at the rash she immediately stated it was an allergic reaction, which seemed a little odd as Fenna has no known allergies. She squeezed some lemon juice and told her to drink it and to rub the lemon on her rashes. She did so, but when we returned to the room Evil Jess gave her an antihistamine and we set off to sleep. The next day me and Evil Jess both confessed to having seperately checked in the night that she was still breathing! Like some sort of miracle however, the rash had completely vanished the next day... it still remains a mystery...

The following day I hiked the Island, which, I mistakingly thought would take 4 hours in total. In fact, it was 4 hours to the end and 4 hours back, which wouldn´t have been a problem, except I was alone, I returned a different route which continously caused me to get lost, I was losing sun light and had no torch. The way to the end of the island was a pleasant, but hot walk. The end brought me to Inka ruins, and way back I visited many strange little villages. I was slightly panicked at the prospect of being lost in the dark on the island, so the return trip was not so pleasant...

When we finally left the wonderful Island we were all rested and healthy and began our trip to cross into Peru, to the city of Puno. Lake Titi is divided between Peru and Bolivia, and the attraction of the Peruivian side is the Floating Islands, where the Uros people live on Islands made out of many layers of heavy duty reeds. We had been warned however of the seriously touristy nature of the Islands, but it also happened we would be there for Puno day, a strange ancient celebration of when the Inkas arrived to mainland Puno.

Fenna left the next day, but me and Evil Jess stuck around for the strange celebrations, which involved many parades, and a llama being sacrificed in a football stadium, and the king and queen Inkas drinking its blood from a bowl which also contained its heart. Nice.

That afternoon we visited the floating Islands, which indeed, were possibly the most touristy thing I´ve come across so far, but nevertheless interesting and fun. The locals dressed us in traditional dress, and on one island, we became the tourist attraction, local boys wanting there photos taken with us!

The following day Evil Jess and I went our seperate ways in South America and I headed to the Capital of Peru, Cusco.

Stuck in La Paz and near muggings...

After recovering from the Choro trail my next mission was to find a way to reach the jungle. However, it was to prove more difficult than expected, Bolivia isn´t known for its wonderful infrastructure so the bus to the jungle is quoted as taking 18-35 hours and is supposed to be horrendeous. The other option is to fly. However, as rain season has hit a little early, this was also to prove difficult as the planes cannot land in the rain (think Aer Arann only South American style) so after 5 days of trying and repeated cancelations I decided to give it a miss in Bolivia and to try in Peru instead.

After being stuck there, La Paz quickly began to loose its charm, and I became eagar to leave a place for the first time in South America. I did however decide to stick around for the Loki Halloween party. There was a turnover in my room and instead of the ignorant french boys who didn´t talk to me, I got 9 hilarious english boys who decided to adopt me as a sister seeing as I was the only girl. Halloween however turned out to be scarier than anticipated, I woke at 6 am and spend the next day and night horribly sick. Tragically my costume went to waste, although I looked scarier enough without dressing up. I left the hostel once that day to buy a bus ticket for Copacabana, still determined to leave La Paz. This little excursion out was to prove equally scary as it was my first South American near mugging experience. Im usually more careful, but being ill left me a little careless and walking back through a crowded street I felt a tug at my bag and turned around to find a man with his hand in it. I freaked out and started screaming at him angrily and got very high pitched. He pretended he had dropped something, I checked my bag, nothing was missing and walked off quickly. At that point I was just annoyed, mostly at myself. If Im going to get robbed here I at least want a decently dramatic story out of it as opposed to, ´I got a little careless and I guy stole my purse..´

However, that wasn´t the end, about 5 meters down the road two Bolivian school girls that had witnessed the innocident came running after me, and told me I should cross the road. When I asked why they warned me that men were watching me and following me and they would try and mug me. Thats when I got scared, so I jumped in a taxi and got back to Loki where I spent the rest of my time in La Paz.

The next morning I felt better and got the early bus out of La Paz...

The Choro Hike

So whilst in La Paz I decided, despite the vomit session, that I would sign up to do the three day Choro hike in the Ande mountains. Evil Jess, Fenna, and two new amigos, Dan and Holly would be in my group. I figured it was time I got off my lazy holidaying ass and did a bit of exercise, what with Maschu Pischu looming. From the sound of things it would also be a nice easy introduction into the hiking world, the tour operator promised 3hrs downhill the first day, 7 the next, mostly down, and 4hrs downhill the last. But I soon realised that tour operators lie.

The trek started 4900m asl high in the mountain, so high that literally nothing could grow. Not a weed or an ant could be seen. It was also damn cold, we were starting our hike literally in the clouds. Our guide was Angelo, a lovely Bolivian guy who had worked as a computer programmer before realising that life at a desk was not for him and he returned to study tourism. He does the hike twice a week, meaning, he gets one day off a week, and trust me, its a hard job. He was also joined by two helpers who carried the tents and food.

The first day was actualy 7hours, steeply downhill. The trek is an old Inca trail, which basically means it consists of randomly placed rocks which form a dangerously slippy path. That day I also realised just how hard down hill is, by the end of the day I could hardly walk! Our first day was also a wet one which made it particularly tricky. Despite all the pain and difficulty, it was remarkably beautiful, by the end of the day we´d reached 2800, and the jungle base. We´d gradually witnessed moss and small plants appearing, until we were suddenly in the thick of trees and bushes.

The 2nd day was 9 hours up and down. I had considered myself to be reasonably fit, but prehaps a month and a half of procrastination had taken its toll. At points I thought I would die. I also never considered myself to be afraid of heights, but there is something unnerving about walking alone a cliff edge with woobly legs. I had resorted to a trusty walking stick half way through the day. I also foolishly asked Angelo what happens if someone has an accident on the trek. Theres no roads along the way and very few inhabitance. He let me know that a donkey can be called to collect the person for the bargain price of 500 Bolivianos (50euro). Eek...

What was also very interesting was the homes we passed along the way. Very simple and basic, made of wood and straw, the people usually kept animals and small farms. Some had water, some had electricity. We usually camped at some house for the night. The 2nd night we camped with a family that had an unestimated amount of children. We heard a baby crying and were told he was sick. I can´t imagine how they managed a sick baby in the thick of the jungle and mountains... It certainly made you realise how sheltered western children are. The following morning Dan found the cheeky cracker stealing boy eating a battery. Paniced, he tried to get him to spit it out, but the child just grinned. He went to Angelo, ´Angelo, he´s got a battery in his mouth!´. Angelo told the boy to open his mouth, he looked in, then turned to Dan and in a congradulative tone replied ´Yes, its a battery!´

That night I´d collapsed to bed exausted, dreaming of mosquitos and falling off cliffs, only to be woken at 3am to a surrounding storm and a tent full of water. We did our best to stop the water from spreading, but it was a tiring wet night all round.

The last day came and we hobbled our way through the remaining jungle. We came to the Japanese Gardens, where an old Japanese man came in the 70´s to set up his garden and live as a hermit. About 5 years ago he retired from his hermit existence and set up an ecolodge and opened his Japanese Garden to those that wonder by. He was a hunched enthusiastic old man who asked where were from, then would disappear into his house and return with a bunch of postcards from your country. We got his address and promised to send him more when we returned to our homes.

We finally reached our end point, a small town with a road out of the mountains. We celebrated by going for a swim in the river we´d been following on and off for the last 3 days.

The drive back to La Paz was possibly the scarest occasion of my trip so far. I don´t know if I´ve previously mentioned it, but they drive like maniacs here. Driving in the clouds, around the bends of a cliff, and our driver thinks its a good idea to start over taking!! I have a new respect for Irish drivers.

It was then back to La Paz, it took 3 days for my legs to fully work again, but it was most definately worth every minute.

Diarrhea stories...

If your in anyway squimish or prudish, stop reading now...

So since my arrival to Loki, La Paz, the topic of Diarrhea has spread almost as fast as the affliction itself. On my vomiting day, in which I remained largely in bed, me and Emmett (irish guy in my dorm) chatted with the neighbouring dorm in which 3 people were suffering from the dreaded D. One poor Aussie girl told us how the previous day she´d had an accident in her pants downtown.

This brought about me thinking the top 3 Diarrhea stories I´ve heard so far. Most happened to ´friends of friends´and in India, but for your enjoyment here you are...

1. Heard from Bethany...

3 girls travelling on a bus, think it was in Asia, and suddenly one HAS to go. Completely desperate, when the bus stops, she tells her friends she´ll meet them at the hotel later and runs off. Its a gas station, with unbelieveably, no bathroom. She sees a high wall surrounding it, and decides to hop it. Unfortunately, the other side of the wall is a steep drop and she starts rolling down this cliff. She manages to stop herself by grabbing a tree. Despite the fall, she still has only one thing on her mind, so, clinging to the tree, she drops her pants and goes. After, she realises her prediciment... she can either continue falling, or try to climb back up. So, she claws her way back up, to realise upon reaching the wall, theres a collection of asian onlookers who´ve witness the whole ordeal...

2. Heard from Evil Jess...

Guy on a bus in India. Its so packed that theres not space to stand in the isle, so he´s lying in the overhead luggage compartment. Suddenly,he too, HAS to go. He looks around, surveying his options. He´s deciding between going in his backpack or going in his pants, when my some twist of fate, the bus stops. He runs off, runs down the road, and runs into the first restaurant he sees. He frantically asks for the bathroom, the owners point him in the direction. he gets in there, its pretty much a hole in the ground, drops his pants and starts going... He looks down and realises, in this hole, theres pigs, which are frantically eating what comes out of him... Literally, a pig in shit.

3. Heard from dull English guy...

Guy, again, on a bus in India. He HAS to go. Goes up to the driver several times, but he refuses to stop. Eventually, he resorts to screaming at the driver to stop, knowing that if he doesn´t he´ll be going in his pants. So the driver stops, and he runs through bushes, stops, and starts going. When he ´comes to´he realises where he is... In a wealthy Indian housing estate, and he´s going in a guys front garden. The guy is standing in the garden, hosing his plants. English guy starts frantically trying to wash away his mess with a bottle of water, looks up, and sees his bus drive past, everyone in it laughing at taking his photo.

Well, hope they brighten up your day, see it could be worse!!

La Pazzzzz!!

So we arrive to La Paz 2hours late, but thats Bolivian buses for you. It had wisely been predetermined that we would be checking into the famous Loki hostel with a reputation for being a party hostel...

La Paz, the capital of Bolivia, holds the title for being the highest capital city in the world, 3800m asl. As per usual, with a change in altitude, I feel a little like death. However, it is Bethany´s last night with us, so it was planned to be a big one. I take an afternoon siesta after a quick exploration of the hilly, bustling city.

We start the night off in the Loki bar, which to be honest, is the most european bar I´ve been in so far. Nothing too typically South American about this hostel, the chain of 4 was largely set up by a group of Irish. It is a bit of cheat, everything is written in English, and most of the guests are english speaking, however, is a refreshing break.

Having heard good things about the nightlife in La Paz we were geared up for some big nights out. However, the ´nightclubs´weren´t exactly what we´d expected. Traffic and Mongol, had both been recommended. We ended up going to both. Traffic was more of a salsa bar, which can be great, but this one was not. Mongol was full of tourists and had a strange playlist in which The Fugees and Coolio featured. The most interesting part of the night was the slightly secret nightclub ´Blue´. It functions as sort of an afterparty, opening at 4am. You arrive, to what seems like a normal door to a flat, and you have to knock. A bouncer answers and ushers everyone into what seems to be a long, dark, outdoor corridor. You stumble up it until you reach another, soundproofed, door. Inside is sort of shed of a nightclub, akin to something you might find in Ballmullet, Co. Mayo. Except theres no air, and very smokey... oh and theres a cocaine room upstairs. I must point out, I only know this from naively stumbling up there...

Despite being a ´secret´nightclub, it seemed to be exclusively filled with tourists. we stayed until around 6am, at which point Bethany had to return to the hostel to catch a bus. Sounds fun eh? On the way out, the bouncer told us we had to wait 5 mins until we were let out, because the police were outside...

I felt like death, alchohol and altitude continue to plague my happiness. I sadly said my farewell to my travel buddy since Mendoza and went to bed.

The next day was a fun filled vomit session on my part... shudder...

Sucre!

We pulled into Sucre around 6am, and my initial reaction was... oh dear. However, being on a smelly bus from hell does warp your preception, as does seeing a deserted city at 6am on a Sunday from a bus station. I´m happy to say my first impressions were wrong.

We were all tired and a little cranky and found a hostel quick. It was basic, and our room smelled like moldy chicken soup, but we changed to join the others at a nicer hostel the next day. At that point I was worried I´d only remember Bolivia as being a series of bad smells...

Sucre turned out to be a lovely place to relax for a few days and I really did very little here other than aimlessly wonder and chill. Me and Bethany did however spend alot of time in the Market, which, maybe sadly, was one of my favourite things about Sucre! I´ve never seen so much fresh fruit and Veg in my life. Somebody warned me in Beunos Aires, that if I thought the lack of fruit and veg there was bad (they only eat steak remember) then I´d really struggle later in my trip, that it only got worse. I´m happy to say that was a lie.

Another wonderful thing about Poor Bolivia, is that everything is very cheap. Dinner out in a nice resturaunt costs about 6euro, often including drink. Taxi´s are about 50cent, and haggling is done everywhere here. Sometimes though, you really have to stop yourself from arguing when you realise that 10bolivianos is really only a euro...

Like I said, I got a little lazy in Sucre, and after wonderful Timo´s departure, five girls set off to get pedicures and massages... Backpacker style. One thing I´ve noticed about Bolivians, is that customer service isn´t really a high priority... When we walked into the Salon, faces dropped, they had to work. People move slowly, and in resturaunts here it can be particularly frustrating, food is brought one plate at a time, long pauses between each. Its normal to wait ten minutes for the bill. Well, it was the same in the Salon, only a little more scary, because of their lack of enthusiasm can lead to careless filing or clipping... ouch. Still, I can´t complain, I got lucky and my Pedicurist was lovely, although the other girls looked a little scared. The massage was also interesting, a dirty robe was given to me, and it was a little male Bolivian Massus, but I´m glad to say he had the same intimidated attitude towards Western women as many men in Sucre, I´m sure if I´d been in Chile it may have been a different experience!

After 3 days in Sucre and one interesting night of Salsa, we all headed to the Capital on Bolivia, the highest Capital city in the world, La Paz. We´d managed to find a decent bus company. It was no Super Carma, and they did torture us with the amazing Steven Segal in ´Pistol Whipped´, but we made it!

Trip to Salar de Uyuni in Bolivia!

The three day trip to Uyuni started with a rather anxious border crossing from Chile into Bolivia. The night before I had a nightmare about being caught at the border for my apple fine... a little worried I guess.
Really was unnecessary, the border into Bolivia is possibly the most relaxed border/country crossing I´ve ever been to. Once I´d been stamped out of Chile I knew I was homefree, there was then the ten minute drive to the Bolivian border, which was basically a small shack shed, with a couple of guards and a framed photo of the president. No bags were checked, I could have been packing a kilo of coke, but Bolivia really wouldn´t care.

We had breakfast at the border and then formed out groups for our 4X4 drives. Groups of six, we had an amazing group, Team Toyosa (thats right, not Toyota), named after our 4X4. It consisted of me, Bethany, Australian Jess from our hostel, Dutch Fenna from our hostel, the camp french John-Noel, and the funniest German Mathmatician ever, Timo.
After breakfast we dramatically climbed altitude the rest of the day. Its disturbing looking at food packages swell and burst from the change in pressure, you worry about whats going on in your body.

First day we saw some Lagoons, then a dip in the lovely lovely hotsprings, and finally the Glaciers. Tragically, the glaciers were the highest point, 4900 m above sea level. We´d started off chirpy, happy, bonding, but by the time we reached that point, some of us were lacking in spirit, altitude sickness kicks again. I felt reasonably lucky, I felt like death at the glaciers and couldn´t get out of the car, but Bethany got it far worse. For me, its kind of like having asthma (its weird to breath in and not be satisfied due to less oxygen in the air), coupled with the worst hangover of your life. You feel dizzy, want to vomit, weak, terrible headache. In Bolivia and Peru Cocoa leaves (where cocaine comes from) are legal, and are believed to be a cure for altittude sickness. They taste pretty nasty, but theres always cocoa tea, yum.
After the Glaciers we got to our hostel for the first night. Basic, but we´d been warned. I drank cocoa tea, ate a truck full of Nuerofen plus and sat in bed for a bit with sunglasses until the headache went, then was fairly ok. Bethany crawled from the jeep to the bed and stayed there, from 4 in the afternoon till the next morning. Only a few got it really bad in our group, and she was one. The next day she said she hadn´t felt that bad since she had Meningitis.

The next day was alot better, we all felt better and were going back down, happy days. This day was filled with more Lagoons, alot of Flamigos, a Volcano, highest desert in the world, and mountains. Nice. That night we stayed in a hostel made entirely out of salt, salt floors, salt bricks. Team Toyosa bunked up again and Timo told us about his exel spread sheets for matching what ties go with what shirts. Priceless.

Last day was probably my favourite, we visited what used to be a salt Hotel in the middle of the salt planes. It was shut down because the weren´t disposing of the human waste in an environmentally friendly way. Then were the giant Cacti, and finally the salt flats. You really need the photos to understand why they´re so amazing, but Bolivia isn´t renowned for its speedy internet so you´ll have to wait.

We arrived to Uyuni at three, not the nicest town so we decided to get out of there that night and booked a night bus for 7. It was the first real time I felt like I was in Bolivia. Bolivia seemed alot poorer than Chile and Argentina, and it is. Theres still a large indiginous population here, which was a slight culture shock, still dressed traditionally they fasinated me on first impressions. Poor Bolivia, was all I could think, and I really feel sorry for them as a nation. When they declared themselves independent they lost land to Brazil, Peru and what they hate the most, their costline, to Chile. They do not like Chilians.

Poor Bolivia really impacted me on the worst bus trip so far. To get to my next destination, Sucre, we had to get two buses. The first to Potosi. Bye bye super carma, hello bus from hell. I was travelling with Bethany, Jess, Fenna, Timo, and three girls from another Jeep. Timo and the three girls were in the five seats at the back, which seemed reasonably comfortable, until they were joined by a mother with three kids. Thats a total of 8 people in 5 seats, and the father in the back. The bus was also crammed with people in the isles. All it needed was a few Chickens...
The bus was cold and pretty shit, but for some reason it was damn funny. The road was dirt and bumpy, we were traveling at crazy speeds around mountains by cliff edges. The bus was two hours late, in the middle of the night we woke to the tire being changed. Bolivian buses, I´ve been told, frequently break down.

We just about made our next bus, which was slightly better. Nobody in the isles, but there was still some funky smells. In total we were travelling for about 15 hours I think, with no bathroom. Pain like nothing on this earth...

Finally however we´d arrived to the white city of Sucre!!

The Desert and San Pedro...

The bus trip to San Pedro was possibly the worst of my life, but tragically was all self inflicited due to the night before. Theres nothing like 3 hours sleep, a banging (vomity) hangover, 22 hours on a bus and an endless supply of dubbed films, crap sandwiches (lunch and dinner) and heavy snorers.

Eventually however the hangover wore off as we climbed to 2800 m above sea level to the deserty town of San Pedro. The town soley functions as an aid to visit the many natural attractions around the town, Lagoons, Glaciers, Valleys, Salt lakes, Flamigos, etc. It is totally isolated, a truck comes to the town once a week with fresh fruit and veg, theres no real supermarkets or shops, but its damn cute. Me and Bethany stayed in a hostel on the outskirts of the town, which was basically in the dessert, and was pretty much an elderly couples home, with extra rooms which functioned as dorms. My initial reaction on walking into the cemented shack was ´what the fuck...´being greeted by the handless grandfather, but by the end of it I just wanted to pick the pair up and take them home. That, plus the place was filled with cats, always a plus in my book.

After spending hours on the bus we were eager to do something the first day, so that afternoon visited the Valley de Luna (Valley of the Moon). We climbed through caves, over hills and eventually to the valley where we climbed up a huge sand dune to watch the sunset. It was beautiful, and the perfect moment for my cameras battery to choose to die... bummer.

So, the thing about going to a high alltitude place after being in low alltitude, for most of your life, is that some people suffer from alltitude sickness. They say to take it easy the first day, not do too much, eat little and don´t drink alcohol. I chose to ignore all of these, and we went for a 3 course meal (there was an offer, only 6000 pesos!) and a pisco sours. During dessert I start to feel a bit weird, then dizzy, and I know I´m going to faint. I tell Bethany I feel a bit weird and am going to the bathroom... I made it about five steps before fainting in front of the whole restaurant, banging my head on some poor couples table on the way down. I was fine of course, just embarassed. Bethany and the charismatic waiter came to my aid, I choose to sit where I was until I felt better. He told me it happens all the time, not to worry, then scolded me for drinking and eating steak my first day there. Five minutes later a girl wobbles past being aided by her two friends... At least I wasn´t alone, and to be honest, I got off light, later I found out alttitude sickness can get alot worse.

For the next two days I took it fairly easy,a bit of dizziness and one hallucination during a seista and I was fine. We arranged to do a three day 4X4 tour into Bolivia to see endless lagoons, flamigos and saltflats so there was no major need to do too many tours around San Pedro, just chilled in a small town where after 3 days, locals knew me by name and called me over to chat when walking down the main street. Just like home!

Valpariso and Santiago

I´d heard lovely things about Valpariso, a city near the coast of Chile so decided I would spend more time there instead of Santiago, which, lets face it, is just another capital city. I wasn´t disappointed either though, the place is covered in fantastic graffiti, theres people painting murals everywhere, or creating little mosasaics on lamp post. The other thing I loved/hated was all the stairs! The city is built on a hill, in a way it has layers or floors, you climb stairs to get to the next layer. The lead for fantastic views but is a bit of a bitch to climb in the heat or, after drinking chocolate milk...

One day Bethany and I (my traveling buddy since Mendoza) decided to go to the beach in Vina del Mar, ten minutes away. It had been a scorching morning but after a half an hour of us being there this fog came over the whole city. Stubborn for some beach time, we lasted about 40 minutes, slightly shivering. Eventually we gave up, but even so I some how managed to get completely sun burned. I curse my irish skin! Only I could get sunburned in fog...

We hit Santiago for the weekend and some night life. I have to say, the guys in Chile are farrr more annoying than Argentina, literally can´t walk five steps without getting whistled or commented on. The best so was when me and Bethany recieved a slow clap which broke into a round of applause as we passed a truck of guys unloading softdrinks. Priceless. In some ways I think it might be a blessing, I don´t know how anyone could mug a girl here with such attention.
Santiago was alot of fun to go out in but not much else. There was the Chile vs Colombia world cup qualifier while we were there, and these people are mad about football. The city was crazy that night. I also finally gave into some Salsa dancing in the discos here. More fun than I thought but every song still sounds like ´Gasolina´to my untrained ears.

The down side to all the partying was a hangover like no other on Sunday, the day we were taking a 22 hour bus ride to North Chile, San Pedro. I slept for most of those 22 hours and vowed never ever to drink heavily before a bus again...

Apple Fines...

So, after Mendoza I headed on a day bus over the Andes Mountains, to the far far away land of Chile. We went from heat to snow in a few hours, the drive was amazing and I was glad for once to be on a day bus and not a night bus...

This however is not a story with a happy ending. We get to the border crossing, think 1940´s Russia. I´d heard stories of hours of delays because the people at the border move at about 2miles an hour despite bus lined outside. We were lucky, only one bus in front of us. So we pile out the bus, que to get stamped by Argentina, then que to get stamped by Chile. Then go into a big cold room, line in front of long tables, for our hand luggage. A cup is handed around by an inspector for us to put money in... hmm... professional. All our under carriage luggage is taken off the bus and scanned, then put back on the bus. Then one by one we get our hand luggage scanned... And mine beeps.

They had very little english and ask to look in my bag. I open it, and before they even look, they ask if I have any fruit. I said yes, an apple, which I´d intended on eating and had forgotten was there. Suddenly things get very serious... ´do you have any other fruit, seeds, any fruit its very important´. I don´t and don´t understand what all the fuss is about. People get called over, they confiscate the fruit, everyone else is back on the bus.

Tip for anyone at border crossings with impending trouble... Don´t make jokes, even if your only there over an apple. They take their jobs very seriously and didn´t find it funny when I suggest I just eat the apple...

Instead I was questioned, for an hour... over an apple.
They found someone with slightly better english to translate for another women. She told me in this case they must follow a procedure and I must come into a room with them. At this point I got worried, strip search crossed my mind. Instead they slowly fill out three forms, in which I tell them why I had the apple, why I didn´t declare the apple, why I was in Chile what I do for a living, etc. She explained to me that they have to protect the agriculture of Chile, that the apple would be burned... They filled out the forms, translated what was written, basically a story of why I had the apple, how much it weighed, etc. which I then signed. After an hour of questioning, with the bus waiting, it was getting a little funny, until they let me know I had a 200 US dollar fine. Not funny. They wanted me to pay then, but I didnt have the money, and was a bit suspicious, so instead she gave me an address in Santiago to pay. I stormed back to the bus.

So the question now is, do I pay the fine, or do I go mexican style and make a break for the border... theres a slight risk of being arrested but I´m going for the latter.

The next day at the hostel I explain the story to the hostel owner and ask his advice. He became my hero. I showed him all the copies of the forms they gave me, and he says he´ll ring them for me, and thinks its ridiculous. They tell him that usually people don´t get fined over something as small as an apple, and I have 10 working days to pay the fine. Also, there is no computer system to show that I have the fine when I recross the border, its all done in good faith. Plus I can appeal the fine. All good. So my new hero Juan, says he wants to write a letter to the head of the Agriculture department and appeal it for me, because he is not happy with it at all, saying its bad for tourism that they behave like this. I agree. He write me the letter and then translates it for me, telling me he´s added a few slight fabrications! So now I was harassed at the bordered, bullied into signing document I didn´t understand, That I threw away seeds and fruit before the border but thought that one piece of fruit would be ok. Legend. I´m still in Chile, crossing the border into poor Bolivia on Thursday. Wish me luck!

Backtrack to floggers...

www.youtube.com/watch?v=aTYEIBK5X1o&feature=fvw

Ok, I know the moment may have passed, but I still wanted to put this up... see old BA posts if you don´t know what its in relation to... Still cracks me up when I watch it, if ever you feel sad, just think, you could be a flogger...

Mendoza, wine, bikes and sunburn!!

So I arrived in Mendoza, Argentina Wednesday morning, after a 14 hour bus ride, Carma, where they played The Hangover, for the 5th time since leaving Ireland, only this time, I had a real hangover after a fun night in B.A. at La Bomba. I promised myself two alcohol free nights, despite being in the city on wine.

I´ve been really lucky, last sunday it was snowing here, but I arrived it was the start of several days of serious heat and sunshine. The hostels beautiful and peaceful, with a pool and hammocks. The only issue I had was ever day the people in my dorm changed, kind of annoying, the 'so where you traveling, where you been' conversations get a tad repedative every day!!

Day two I went Paragliding in the morning from the surrounding Mendoza Mountainings. It was amazing, I was lucky as I was the only one doing it that morning, so had my own privite fourwheel drive up the mountain with the chilled out instructor and driver. It was amazing, we had a beautiful clear day for running of the edge of a cliff. But its really not an adrenaline buzz, its more of a peaceful experience, you really are flying. Next I may skydive in Colombia if money and time allow!

In the afternoon it was time for bike rides and wineries! The wineries are in two regions, one of which tourists tend to do by bike as they are all close together and if the weathers nice, its a great way to travel through the vineard roads. I went with 3 girls from the hostel. Malbec is the wine produced here, and its what I´ve been drinking every 2nd day since landing in Argentina! If you could taste it, you´d understand why. Plus, its amazingly cheap, even for a good bottle. After the tour, I finally feel like I know a little something about wine, other than what colour it is! We rented our bikes of the famous Mr. Hugo, who upon our return greated us with hugs and we joined the other bikers for the endless supply of free wine he supplies! The back to the hostel for the best 8euro Asado (BBQ) of my life. Another endless supply of Steak and wine.

I have since visited the parks in Mendoza, which are lovely, although I´m at a loss at how so many people jog in the intense sun! These people are a healthy mystery to me still. I was told, it wasn´t even that hot. My poor Irish skin doesn´t know whats going on. Today I did some more wineries and managed to go a new shade of red, despite suncream. hmm... At least its not snow right?¿!

Oh, and sorry for the lack of photos, I think my bag may have been robbed on my bus trip, although its hard to tell as just my camera usb cables and charger is missing. But there is also a new hole into my secret locking compartment, and apparently, stranger things have been robbed. meh, at least they left my malaria tablets...right....

Next I´m crossing into Chile, to Valpariaso, which sounds like a city I may fall in love with!

Cao Chicos!