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.