Machu Picchu...the "Lost city of the Incas". Rediscovered in 1911 by American scholar, Hiram Bingham, Machu Picchu has quickly become one of the world's most famous historic sites for tourism, and attracts up to 500,000 visitors every year. It is the pride of Peru, and we happened to be there for the 100th anniversary. The iconic image of MP's ancient stone city, set up inbetween the peaks of Machu Picchu and Wayna Picchu, surrounded by the clouds has been imprinted in my mind for years. I was finally going to see it, and to do so, we were tackling the infamous Inca Trail.
The Inca Trail is one of the most famous treks in the world. As you know by now, I'm not the most enthusiastic of trekkers, but if there was one that I just had to do, it was this one. Still, we thought it best to chose a trek that was managable for us; a physical and mental challenge, but also enjoyable. We heard about the "Jungle Trek" back in Buenos Aires, and decided that this was the one for us. It was one of the cheapest around, and included the standard 4 day journey to Machu Picchu, via part of the Inca Trail, but with two main differences: the first day is by bike, and you stay in hostels, not tents! The hostel part was definately appealing. At high altitude and going into Peruvian winter, the nights in Cusco were pretty cold, so sleeping in a tent was not on my agenda. We were also very excited to get our first tropical experience of the Peruvian jungle!
The whole experience was amazing. It was completely exhausting at times, but always very rewarding, and we couldn't have had a better group. It was a large international group of fifteen, all different ages and backgrounds too. Tash and I bonded well with two English girls called Lucy and Becca, but we also loved German Simon, the crazy frenchman Xavier and his sarcastic sidekick Alex, and the 48 year old Chilean Pepe. Our two Peruvian guides Abraham and Jimmy, kept us well informed about local and Inca culture as well as attempting to teach us some Quechuan words (unsuccessfully). Tash was especially content, as she eyed Jimmy up as her future Peruvian husband...So we had our great group, which obviously made the tour better, but even without them, it would always have been epic.
The first day started up high in an icy blanket of cloud. The downhill biking was a breeze, sitting on the bike with the cold air rushing past me, speeding down the windy but tarmacked mountain roads. The views over the lush green valleys were stunning, and once through the worst of the cloud, we were hit with the dazzling blue sky. Once we were down near the jungle, with the dirty dusty track, I gave in and hopped on the bus to join Tash. I wasn't about to wear myself out before we even started the trek!
Our accomodation throughout the trek was very basic. No warm water, and bare cold rooms. Our meals, however, were delicious Peruvian fare, with warming soups and filling mains. Considering that we had stuffed our bags full of high calorie snacks for the 4 days, we were fed very well three times a day too. Our days were long and energetic, so despite the extreme excess of food, we ate it all.
The second day was the longest and most tiring day, with a total of 9 hours of walking. At altitude, everyone struggled with their breathing, but it was made easier as Abraham would regularly stop to teach us about the local produce of the jungle. We learnt about coffee production, sample fresh sweet lemons, avocadoes, and cacao beans straight from the trees. We chewed on coca leaves, and were taught how to do this correctly (although I was already fully educated). We tried fresh passion fruit, the sweetest I'd ever tasted, and I gorged myself on avocado. All of these stops were at people's houses, who relied on the passing trade for a living. Water bottles were expensive, and we were asked for donations often. At first this was annoying, but once we realised how remote the lives of these Peruvians were, we felt that it was the least we could do. After all, they have to put up with tour loads of people trekking past their homes every day of the year.
The sun was strong, and we all got a little burnt that afternoon. After our wonderful lunch, and half an hour in the hammocks, we were climbing over the rocks by the river, crossing rickety old bridges and were pulled over the river by a makeshift cable car. It was a great experience that day, my favourite by far. We hadn't even spotted Machu Picchu yet, and I was already on a high! That night we all chilled out, by having a few drinks at the small town of Santa Teresa. The night ended in a tiny school-disco style night club, but we took it easy, knowing what lay ahead.
The next day, I felt the burn. My thighs and joints were achey, but whilst some of the group paid the extra to spend the morning doing the zip wire across the valleys towards Machu Picchu, us paupers had to trek some more. It wasn't as strenuous as the previous day, as it was mainly flat, but there was a lot less to see. The highlight was getting our first glimpse of Machu Picchu, up at the top of the mountain. It made me so excited to get up there! Yet we were all dreading the following morning, as we had heard the horror stories of the 4am "race" up the 836 steps to Machu Picchu. The reason for the race, is that only 400 people a day are allowed to climb Wayna Picchu, the smaller of the two mountains, but the most iconic one seen in all the photographs. It was an acheivement to be able to climb Wayna Picchu, and even more to make be the first 400 to climb the steps in the morning. By this point, walking along the old railway line to Aguas Calientes, I was unsure of how I would manage it. I was already exhausted, with my creaky joints not being up to scratch for a 22 year old. Yet there was no way I'd be going home without being able to boast about the 4am race. It would be up there with the greatest experiences of my life, and I was very determined to succeed!
That night at Aguas Calientes, the tourism based town at the foot of Machu Picchu, we all mentally and physically prepared ourselves for the following day. It was an early night, with all of our things ready to go at our 3.45am rise. Us four girls were freaking out a little. Tash refused to talk about it at all! We were torn between fear and excitement. All we could do in preparation, was get some sleep...
It was honestly the hardest thing I have done in my entire life. I don't even like to remember it! I can't say that I enjoyed the experience at all. In fact, I hated it.
We made it to the gates at 4am, and joined the queue. The rest of our group were about five minutes before us, but we were maybe eightieth in line. I was all pumped up and ready! It was pitch black outside, but we were all jumping up and down to keep warm and ready to start the steady slog up to the entrance. It was crucial that we got to the top before the buses, which would arrive just before 5am. Abraham had told us that the average time is 45 minutes to get to the top, at a steady pace, without stopping. I'm not sure what time we began, but nothing could have prepared me for the next 45 minutes.
It was constant. The big stone steps were just under a foot high, and we were tackling these a quick pace. It was the steps that killed me. My muscles were in shock and my knees were in constant pain. It was so dark, and all I had was the light from the girls in front of me. I really struggled, and at one point was close to stopping completely. I knew I'd have to finish it, but I couldn't get myself to start again.
It was only when I heard Tash calling down after me that I pushed myself to keep going. There was no way I was letting Tash wait for me, and miss her chance to climb Wayna Picchu. She'd just come out of hospital as well! I remembered what Annabel and I used to say whenever anything was stressful or hard..."suck it up". That's exactly what I did. I got on with it, and pushed ahead, thinking all the time, "you can do it".
Well, we beat the buses! In fact, we did the whole thing in 45 minutes, despite my struggle! At the top I was so happy I almost cried! My heart was thumping and my lungs were in stabbing pain, but I couldn't stop laughing! All our group made it, some in front and some behind. We did it! I climbed the 836 steps to Machu Picchu in 45 minutes! Boom.
The pride that we felt when we received our Machu Picchu stamp on our passports and ticket to Wayna Picchu, was huge. Yet the best reward was still to come, and we were completely blown away by the sight before us.
The city is remarkable. It looked just how I had seen in the photographs, and that was almost more impressive. It instantly lived up to my expectations. The tiered levels of the ancient stone foundations, looked almost as if the city was carved into the mountain, rather than built on. Most of the houses have gone, but the temples and tombs and remains of religious buildings are all still intact, as well as the ancient carvings. We visited the sacrificial sites, where lamas were used as offerings to the gods, and marvelled at a huge Inca sundial.
We learnt about how there is great debate about the discovery of Machu Picchu, as there are carvings to suggest that Hiram Bingham was not the first to discover it in 1911. Locals say that the Peruvian people discovered it long before Bingham, but wanted to keep it a secret as it was believed to hold many treasures within the tombs. It is true that Bingham only discovered it because a local boy had told him that he knew of some ancient ruins, and led him right to them. So really, Bingham only exposed the city to the Western world, and I wonder whether that is even a good thing at all.
I took hundreds of photographs. The views were stunning, and my pictures were exactly how I imagined them to be, with the peak of Wayna Picchu in the background behind the tiered walls of the city. Machu Picchu means "old peak" in Quechuan, and is the larger of the two mountains, whilst Wayna Picchu means "young peak" being the smaller.
We eventually climbed Wayna Picchu, the privilege that we endured the early morning pain for. This was a lot more enjoyable than the morning climb, as we went at our own pace. From the top of WP we were able to get an aerial view of the city, which many people argue is built in the shape of a condor. We all sat on the top in the sunshine and looked down on our day's achievement. We could see all the way down to the railway tracks that we had walked along the previous day, and saw how far we had come and how much we had accomplished.
That afternoon we fell asleep on the grass, all worn out. Machu Picchu has strict rules and regulations such as no eating, jumping, shouting and apparently, sleeping, within the city. We were ushered on by the security guards! We took it easy for the rest of the day, ruling out the climb up Machu Picchu or to the Sun Gate. I now wish we had maybe tried to do that too, but at the time it seemed impossible! However, instead I managed to take an iconic photo of Machu Picchu with myself and a grumpy llama staring at each other. My llama loving friends were all so envious and proud. Mission accomplished!
We said our goodbyes to the group in the evening, and caught the train home to Cusco. We were exhausted by the time we got back, and I'm pretty sure we didn't even speak to each other before crashing out in our comfy Loki beds. That was the end of our Machu Picchu experience, probably the greatest physical achievement and experience of my life! This is why South America is above and beyond everywhere else I have ever been. The number of sites and awesome experiences that we have had in just two and half months is wonderful, and we haven't even scratched the surface. It was a great way to redeem our time in Peru, after our shakey start. I will never ever forget our Machu Picchu experience.
Thursday, 1 September 2011
Friday, 1 July 2011
El Primero de Peru...Elections, Ceviche, Mummies and a Hospital.
It wasn't the most pleasant of journeys, crossing the border from Bolivia to Peru. As we knew, it was the night of the General Elections, as well the last day that the border was easily open. We crossed the border without issue, but were unfortunately left stranded in an unknown town just inside Peru, by our unhelpful tour company. It turned out that they had not been able to booke us a seat on a bus, and their gamble didn't pay off when there were no more buses at the border for us! We were infuriated but also terrified, as we had no peruvian money, no idea where we were, and it was half nine at night on election day. Fire crackers were going off and people were parading in the streets. It was now our turn to gamble, and jump in a taxi, all five of us sticking together for safety, and hoping that we weren't going to be mugged!
It was a long, cramped, nerve racking journey, but we made it to Puno, on the edge of Lake Titicaca and stopped over for the night. Ollanta won the elections, by 51.5% which was good news, at least for us, as there would be less chance of rioting, than if Keiko had won it. So by morning, we were off to our initial destination: the colonial white city of Arequipa.
Arequipa is one of Peru's most attractive cities, surrounded by moutains, volcanoes and the worlds deepest canyon at Colca. We headed to Arequipa without expectations, but were pleasantly surprised by how lovely the city was. We checked into a great little hostel, which was quiet and friendly, which is just what we wanted! We explored the city in the glorious warm sunshine, visiting in the plaza, the churches and the museum of the legendary Inca ice maiden, 'Juanita'. About twelve years ago, scientists climbed up to the summit of Mount Ampato, not far from Arequipa, and discovered three mummies, that had been frozen in the snow. Juanita was found at the very top, and is most famous due to how remarkably preserved she is. At five hundred years old, Juanita still has her own skin, fingernails, hair and internal organs intact! She is kept frozen, in the Museo Santuarios Andinos, and has revealed so much about her Inca culture. Juanita and the other mummies discovered, were child sacrifices by the Incas, who offered the chosen children to the gods in order to appease them. Every extreme weather condition, was considered by the Incas as a punishment from their gods, and so they would sacrifice beautiful children, chosen at birth in a ritual on the top of the Andes mountains (closest to their gods).
It was absolutely fascinating to see Juanita so well preserved, through the glass of her freezer cabinet. Her head injuries are visible to see, as well as the sun damage to her skull from when she was first exposed to the sun after the snow melted. Also in the museum were Inca artefacts, such as pots, carvings, and pins made of gold, all found around Juanita, signifying her importance in Inca culture. She is Peru's Ice Princess, and one of the most amazing relics left behind from Inca civilisation.
From our few days of exploring Arequipa, we tried some classic Peruvian dishes. We sampled our first Peruvian ceviche, which was delicious. The fish was so fresh, and the zesty lemon and coriander marinade was beautifully complimented by the sweet potato (we were to have a lot more of this in Peru!). One evening we had a Pisco Sour with our dinner, which is the Peruvian coctail made from Pisco alcohol, lemon and a raw egg. This was surprisingly tasty! Of course, as we were near the sea, we sampled and Arequipan speciality of Chupa de Camarones, a kind of prawn soup, with tomatoes, rice and potatoes all mixed together. Very filling!
I was excited for Peruvian food, as Bolivian food had been very basic. Bring on ceviche, seafood and plenty of potatoes!
Unfortunately, our exploration of Arequipa was restricted to the city itself. We discovered while we were here that we had to shell out for an expensive flight from Lima to Rio, which we'd not anticipated. This meant that we had to change our plans, to allow for an even tighter budget than before! Therefore, travelling to explore the Colca Canyon was scored off our list, which we were devastated about. We decided to get to Cusco quickly, and maybe look into getting a job in a hostel for our last 3 weeks. This was not good.
We arrived in Cusco early one morning, and checked into Loki hostel, where we had booked our Inca Jungle Trail to Machu Picchu from for six days later. Here we faced another major setback in our fun seeking...Tash was admitted to hospital, suffering from her Death Road injury which turned out to be a lot worse than just a bruise.
For the next three days Tash was in hospital, having had an operation on the bruise that turned into a blood clot. It was a horrible few days, with me being alone and worried in the hostel and Tash being scared and emotional in the hospital. This was NOT what we had planned for Peru!
Still, Tash survived, and all was covered on insurance. The hospital was wonderful, and Tash was in great hands with an English speaking consultant, and friendly nurses at her beck and call. She was discharged and given the all clear to do Machu Picchu - but without the biking!
So, Cusco hadn't got off to the greatest of starts, and we had yet to explore the cultural city and the crazy nightlife! This was hindered due to Tash being on antibiotics, but we also wanted to be on good form for our trek! Instead, we chilled out, treating ourselves to good meals in some of the many great cafe's in Cusco. As one of the most touristy and expensive cities in Peru, we had an abundance of dining and shopping at our feet! If we only had the money! Job hunting didn't go down very successfully, so after MP we'd have to go back to the drawing board...Come on Peru, show us the good stuff...
It was a long, cramped, nerve racking journey, but we made it to Puno, on the edge of Lake Titicaca and stopped over for the night. Ollanta won the elections, by 51.5% which was good news, at least for us, as there would be less chance of rioting, than if Keiko had won it. So by morning, we were off to our initial destination: the colonial white city of Arequipa.
Arequipa is one of Peru's most attractive cities, surrounded by moutains, volcanoes and the worlds deepest canyon at Colca. We headed to Arequipa without expectations, but were pleasantly surprised by how lovely the city was. We checked into a great little hostel, which was quiet and friendly, which is just what we wanted! We explored the city in the glorious warm sunshine, visiting in the plaza, the churches and the museum of the legendary Inca ice maiden, 'Juanita'. About twelve years ago, scientists climbed up to the summit of Mount Ampato, not far from Arequipa, and discovered three mummies, that had been frozen in the snow. Juanita was found at the very top, and is most famous due to how remarkably preserved she is. At five hundred years old, Juanita still has her own skin, fingernails, hair and internal organs intact! She is kept frozen, in the Museo Santuarios Andinos, and has revealed so much about her Inca culture. Juanita and the other mummies discovered, were child sacrifices by the Incas, who offered the chosen children to the gods in order to appease them. Every extreme weather condition, was considered by the Incas as a punishment from their gods, and so they would sacrifice beautiful children, chosen at birth in a ritual on the top of the Andes mountains (closest to their gods).
It was absolutely fascinating to see Juanita so well preserved, through the glass of her freezer cabinet. Her head injuries are visible to see, as well as the sun damage to her skull from when she was first exposed to the sun after the snow melted. Also in the museum were Inca artefacts, such as pots, carvings, and pins made of gold, all found around Juanita, signifying her importance in Inca culture. She is Peru's Ice Princess, and one of the most amazing relics left behind from Inca civilisation.
From our few days of exploring Arequipa, we tried some classic Peruvian dishes. We sampled our first Peruvian ceviche, which was delicious. The fish was so fresh, and the zesty lemon and coriander marinade was beautifully complimented by the sweet potato (we were to have a lot more of this in Peru!). One evening we had a Pisco Sour with our dinner, which is the Peruvian coctail made from Pisco alcohol, lemon and a raw egg. This was surprisingly tasty! Of course, as we were near the sea, we sampled and Arequipan speciality of Chupa de Camarones, a kind of prawn soup, with tomatoes, rice and potatoes all mixed together. Very filling!
I was excited for Peruvian food, as Bolivian food had been very basic. Bring on ceviche, seafood and plenty of potatoes!
Unfortunately, our exploration of Arequipa was restricted to the city itself. We discovered while we were here that we had to shell out for an expensive flight from Lima to Rio, which we'd not anticipated. This meant that we had to change our plans, to allow for an even tighter budget than before! Therefore, travelling to explore the Colca Canyon was scored off our list, which we were devastated about. We decided to get to Cusco quickly, and maybe look into getting a job in a hostel for our last 3 weeks. This was not good.
We arrived in Cusco early one morning, and checked into Loki hostel, where we had booked our Inca Jungle Trail to Machu Picchu from for six days later. Here we faced another major setback in our fun seeking...Tash was admitted to hospital, suffering from her Death Road injury which turned out to be a lot worse than just a bruise.
For the next three days Tash was in hospital, having had an operation on the bruise that turned into a blood clot. It was a horrible few days, with me being alone and worried in the hostel and Tash being scared and emotional in the hospital. This was NOT what we had planned for Peru!
Still, Tash survived, and all was covered on insurance. The hospital was wonderful, and Tash was in great hands with an English speaking consultant, and friendly nurses at her beck and call. She was discharged and given the all clear to do Machu Picchu - but without the biking!
So, Cusco hadn't got off to the greatest of starts, and we had yet to explore the cultural city and the crazy nightlife! This was hindered due to Tash being on antibiotics, but we also wanted to be on good form for our trek! Instead, we chilled out, treating ourselves to good meals in some of the many great cafe's in Cusco. As one of the most touristy and expensive cities in Peru, we had an abundance of dining and shopping at our feet! If we only had the money! Job hunting didn't go down very successfully, so after MP we'd have to go back to the drawing board...Come on Peru, show us the good stuff...
Monday, 20 June 2011
Mas Fiestas en Isla del Sol
After five or so days in chaotic La Paz, we were all ready to lay back and relax on Lake Titicaca's main island, Isla del Sol. Lake Titicaca is one of the world's highest lakes, at roughly 3,700 meters above sea level, and is the largest lake in South America, crossing the border between Bolivia and Peru.
Isla del Sol is situated on the Bolivian side of the lake, and is one of the most popular islands to visit on the huge lake. It is a large island with no roads or vehicles, with the majority of the economy relying on tourism and fishing. All this sounded perfect to us; a quiet, rural, farm dominated island, as far away from modern life as possible. We could go on walks and explore the Inca ruins during the day, and eat fresh trout and drink wine at night. That is exactly what we wanted, PEACE and QUIET.
Well, we were in for a little surprise. After the 2 hour ferry ride out to the island from Copacabana, we were all ready to get to the quiet North side of the island. We were sailing round the side of the island when we caught our first glimpse of where we were staying, the sleepy Challa'pampa. Yet, it didn't look so sleepy. Out on the beach, near the boat docks, a huge crowd of colourful dressed Bolivians were dancing to the sound of a brass band. It looked very much like a fiesta to us...what was going on?
On arrival to the island, we chose our humble accomodation right on the beach, with an idyllic sunset over the lake, hippie's tents pitched up in the sand, and farm animals wandering freely along the shore, it was perfect. We soon found out that we had chosen to stay on the island during the annual three-day Festival of the Virgin. It seemed as though the party was already well underway, as everywhere we looked, Bolivian men and women were swaying and stumbling from all the drink, with their children ushering them back to their homes. It was a great sight to see! We hadn't yet seen Bolivians partying first hand, and it appeared to be the one time of the year that the whole community let loose! Brilliant timing by us, once again.
This fiesta did, of course, mean one thing: goodbye R&R, hello more fiesta! We headed out that night for some of the best fresh trout, I have ever tasted. "Trucha alla plancha con salsa de vino blanco"- muy rico. We washed it down with a good few bottles of Bolivian red wine, and went out to chill on the beach. Most of the locals had already called it a night, having probably drunk throughout the day, so we were happy to sit on the sand and toast the Virgin.
Our time on Isla del Sol was still calm and relaxed. After drinking wine at night, we would sleep in until midday, when we'd wander along to a street stall to by a sandwich for breakfast, and then sit in the sun on the beach or relax up in Alfonso's house, where Agus was staying. One sunny day, Julie, Tash and I ventured off to the Inca ruins up on the far northern peninsula of the island. We walked up the gravelly pathway, past all the livestock and tiny little houses out in the middle of nowhere. The views of the lake were stunning, with the strong sun reflecting off the water's surface and the white peaks of the mountains on the mainland in the distance. The sun was really strong, and we ended up with pink faces and arms to match.
We climbed to the Inca ruins, right on the tip of the island; the Sacred Rock, and the labyrinth building of Chicana (which still looked as though the walls were constructed maybe 100 years ago, but not 500). We explored the labyrinth, and insisted on scaling the highest point of the island for the best view. At altitude, the climb was tough, and we were very easily breathless (it didn't fare well for our forthcoming Inca Trail!) but we saw it all as good practice.
After our adventure, we returned to the town, to eat more delicious trout (still not bored by it) and ventured out to dance with the locals in the square. We danced hand in hand with the women and men of Challa'pampa. Some of the women informed me that they were carrying children in their slings, whilst dancing and drinking! We talked together in Spanish and shared our cervezas. It was loads of fun, and we really felt that we were immersed in the community!
The following day we decided to move up to the hills, to join Agus at Alfonso's house. We had a lovely little room with a beautiful view over the town and the beach. It was one hell of a climb up to the hostal, especially at night with no lights to guide the way.
That night we joined a group of Argenitians for an authentic asado. I really do not exaggerate when I say "authentic" as they literally bought, killed and cooked a whole pig on a BBQ for us all to eat! At first, we were promised lamb, but in the end a pig was bought instead, for less than twenty pounds. Unfortunately, against our wishes, we saw the poor little 'Babe' that was to become our dinner, and it almost put us off. However, we decided that it was hypocritical to eat meat, except for when we knew how it made it to our plate. Plus, it was only us English and Americans that objected, whilst the Catalan and Argentinians were all for it. This would just be embarrassing...so we went for it.
I do not lie, when I say that it was potentially some of the best pork I have tasted. Yes, I do love a good old Hog Roast back at home, but this was pretty special. No frills, just wholesome, fresh, tender meat. By the time that it was ready (a casual four hour wait) we were all ravenous. We attacked the plate of meat that had been carved, with our bare hands, licking our fingers like cavemen. It was great! What a barbie...
Sadly, the next day we had to leave our beloved paradise island, where fiestas and traquillity go hand in hand. There had been major protests at the border of Peru, due to anti-mining strikes and the border crossing had been shut for a month. All of this was coinciding with the general election in Peru, where protesters were unhappy with the choice between right wing candidate Keiko Fujimori, daughter of a former dictator, and far left Ollanta Humala. We had heard many different accounts of what was going on, but being on the cut-off island, we had to rely on information from other tourists. None of this was very good for us, as we only had one more day when the border was open for tourist crossings, before the election resulsts were announced, and the strikes recommenced.
We had to leave. We needed to ensure that we got to Cusco for our Machu Picchu tour, and afterwards we intended to volunteer. This didn't leave us much time to explore Peru, so we reluctantly said farewell to our friends and the lovely Isla, and got the ferry back to the mainland.
I was pretty sad. Not just about leaving our friends, not just about leaving the island, but also because I had fallen in love with Bolivia. There was so much more that we could have seen, and I was well and truly seduced by Bolivian culture. Not only because everything was cheap, but because for a relatively small country, we were blown away with the variety of landscapes and activities. We'd had such happy times, and we didn't want those to end. Obviously, we had a lot more on the horizon in Peru, and we could be excited about that. Saying goodbye to our Bolivian family was hard, and now we were back on our own once more.
First stop: a border crossing, at night, on election day. Suerte...
Isla del Sol is situated on the Bolivian side of the lake, and is one of the most popular islands to visit on the huge lake. It is a large island with no roads or vehicles, with the majority of the economy relying on tourism and fishing. All this sounded perfect to us; a quiet, rural, farm dominated island, as far away from modern life as possible. We could go on walks and explore the Inca ruins during the day, and eat fresh trout and drink wine at night. That is exactly what we wanted, PEACE and QUIET.
Well, we were in for a little surprise. After the 2 hour ferry ride out to the island from Copacabana, we were all ready to get to the quiet North side of the island. We were sailing round the side of the island when we caught our first glimpse of where we were staying, the sleepy Challa'pampa. Yet, it didn't look so sleepy. Out on the beach, near the boat docks, a huge crowd of colourful dressed Bolivians were dancing to the sound of a brass band. It looked very much like a fiesta to us...what was going on?
On arrival to the island, we chose our humble accomodation right on the beach, with an idyllic sunset over the lake, hippie's tents pitched up in the sand, and farm animals wandering freely along the shore, it was perfect. We soon found out that we had chosen to stay on the island during the annual three-day Festival of the Virgin. It seemed as though the party was already well underway, as everywhere we looked, Bolivian men and women were swaying and stumbling from all the drink, with their children ushering them back to their homes. It was a great sight to see! We hadn't yet seen Bolivians partying first hand, and it appeared to be the one time of the year that the whole community let loose! Brilliant timing by us, once again.
This fiesta did, of course, mean one thing: goodbye R&R, hello more fiesta! We headed out that night for some of the best fresh trout, I have ever tasted. "Trucha alla plancha con salsa de vino blanco"- muy rico. We washed it down with a good few bottles of Bolivian red wine, and went out to chill on the beach. Most of the locals had already called it a night, having probably drunk throughout the day, so we were happy to sit on the sand and toast the Virgin.
Our time on Isla del Sol was still calm and relaxed. After drinking wine at night, we would sleep in until midday, when we'd wander along to a street stall to by a sandwich for breakfast, and then sit in the sun on the beach or relax up in Alfonso's house, where Agus was staying. One sunny day, Julie, Tash and I ventured off to the Inca ruins up on the far northern peninsula of the island. We walked up the gravelly pathway, past all the livestock and tiny little houses out in the middle of nowhere. The views of the lake were stunning, with the strong sun reflecting off the water's surface and the white peaks of the mountains on the mainland in the distance. The sun was really strong, and we ended up with pink faces and arms to match.
We climbed to the Inca ruins, right on the tip of the island; the Sacred Rock, and the labyrinth building of Chicana (which still looked as though the walls were constructed maybe 100 years ago, but not 500). We explored the labyrinth, and insisted on scaling the highest point of the island for the best view. At altitude, the climb was tough, and we were very easily breathless (it didn't fare well for our forthcoming Inca Trail!) but we saw it all as good practice.
After our adventure, we returned to the town, to eat more delicious trout (still not bored by it) and ventured out to dance with the locals in the square. We danced hand in hand with the women and men of Challa'pampa. Some of the women informed me that they were carrying children in their slings, whilst dancing and drinking! We talked together in Spanish and shared our cervezas. It was loads of fun, and we really felt that we were immersed in the community!
The following day we decided to move up to the hills, to join Agus at Alfonso's house. We had a lovely little room with a beautiful view over the town and the beach. It was one hell of a climb up to the hostal, especially at night with no lights to guide the way.
That night we joined a group of Argenitians for an authentic asado. I really do not exaggerate when I say "authentic" as they literally bought, killed and cooked a whole pig on a BBQ for us all to eat! At first, we were promised lamb, but in the end a pig was bought instead, for less than twenty pounds. Unfortunately, against our wishes, we saw the poor little 'Babe' that was to become our dinner, and it almost put us off. However, we decided that it was hypocritical to eat meat, except for when we knew how it made it to our plate. Plus, it was only us English and Americans that objected, whilst the Catalan and Argentinians were all for it. This would just be embarrassing...so we went for it.
I do not lie, when I say that it was potentially some of the best pork I have tasted. Yes, I do love a good old Hog Roast back at home, but this was pretty special. No frills, just wholesome, fresh, tender meat. By the time that it was ready (a casual four hour wait) we were all ravenous. We attacked the plate of meat that had been carved, with our bare hands, licking our fingers like cavemen. It was great! What a barbie...
Sadly, the next day we had to leave our beloved paradise island, where fiestas and traquillity go hand in hand. There had been major protests at the border of Peru, due to anti-mining strikes and the border crossing had been shut for a month. All of this was coinciding with the general election in Peru, where protesters were unhappy with the choice between right wing candidate Keiko Fujimori, daughter of a former dictator, and far left Ollanta Humala. We had heard many different accounts of what was going on, but being on the cut-off island, we had to rely on information from other tourists. None of this was very good for us, as we only had one more day when the border was open for tourist crossings, before the election resulsts were announced, and the strikes recommenced.
We had to leave. We needed to ensure that we got to Cusco for our Machu Picchu tour, and afterwards we intended to volunteer. This didn't leave us much time to explore Peru, so we reluctantly said farewell to our friends and the lovely Isla, and got the ferry back to the mainland.
I was pretty sad. Not just about leaving our friends, not just about leaving the island, but also because I had fallen in love with Bolivia. There was so much more that we could have seen, and I was well and truly seduced by Bolivian culture. Not only because everything was cheap, but because for a relatively small country, we were blown away with the variety of landscapes and activities. We'd had such happy times, and we didn't want those to end. Obviously, we had a lot more on the horizon in Peru, and we could be excited about that. Saying goodbye to our Bolivian family was hard, and now we were back on our own once more.
First stop: a border crossing, at night, on election day. Suerte...
Saturday, 11 June 2011
"Attitude at Altitude" - It can only be La Paz...
La Paz, notoriously known for being one of South America's wildest cities. As Bolivia's governmental capital, at a dizzying height of 3660m above sea level, La Paz is full of quirky beauty and a vivacious atmosphere.
From speaking to travellers passing in the opposite direction, we heard that La Paz can be overwhelming at times, not just because of the acclimatising to the altitude, but also because of the dangers of a touristy capital city. The streets of La Paz are never quiet, and this was a tiny bit daunting at first, but with time, we were charmed by the bustling population of the city.
Despite us being aware that La Paz was sky-high in the mountains, we were still amazed about its hilly layout. At such high altitude, and with the sun shining strongly every day, walking around the steep city roads could be quite a challenge. Even at a snails pace, we were panting heavily up the market streets, with older men carrying planks of wood, overtaking us with ease! It was our first chaotic Bolivian city, and we loved it from the first morning.
We stayed at the infamous Wild Rover Backpackers hostel, which partied every night. It was a great base for our La Paz experience, as we trully got a taste of the wild La Paz nightlife (but with the little perks of comfy beds and hot power showers!). Here, we were reunited with our Bolivian family, Agus, Allen and Julie, in time to accompany Agus in cheering on Barcelona in the Champions League Final (Yes, many of the English residents of Wild Rover were appauled at our allegiance with Barca, but as a Spurs fan, I felt I was within my rights!).
Tash and I ventured out with a couple of the Wild Rover crowd, to a disappointly gringo dominated nightclub. We still had fun, but the night lacked a bit of La Paz authenticity, which we vowed to rectify the next day.
Our days were filled with wanders around the city. We explored the artesan markets, full of every type of alapaca garment you could wish for, outstandingly cheap silver jewellry, and all other tourist wares. Here we shopped like crazy, letting out all our pent up frustration. La Paz is famously cheap for shopping, and even now I still think I should have bought more. We also ventured through the witches market, with all sorts of herbal remedies, and questionable witchcraft items; such as llama foetuses, dead birds and other strange bottled creatures.
We visited the Coca museum, where we all learnt more about the wonders of the coca leaf. It was shockingly our first trip to a museum so far (poor effort) but it was really worthwhile to learn more about something that is so important in Bolivian culture. Having said that, I feel that you can learn more about native cultures, by eating in a local restaurant or just talking with people in the markets. One of the reasons why La Paz was so quirky for me, was because of the amount of traditional clothing that is still worn by the cholitas. The stocky Bolivian woman, dressed in their long skirts, thick jumpers, and with small bowler hats on their braided long hair still dominate the population of La Paz, despite seeing more and more modern dress. The cholitas will stride up the steep hills with children tied to their backs, and carrying huge heavy bags of goods. Bolivian women are strong, and never fail to amaze.
Now, many adrenaline seekers head to La Paz in order to the infamous downhill bicycle tour of the world's most dangerous road (aka. "Death Road"). The Yungas Road covering the 61 kilometers between La Paz and Coroico, was closed down and a new road rebuilt, after 200-300 people per year would die driving along the downhill gravel road. Nowadays, the road attracts many thrillseekers to moutain bike the way down the hill, with lots of La Paz tour operators running a show. I have to admit, I was curious as soon as I heard about it, but still took some persuading. Eventually we caved in, and decided to join Agus and Julie on their Death Road tour, as long as we could go as slow as we wanted, and we were only going with a decent company!
That morning, I had butterflies in my stomach. The night before we had heard that, tragically a girl had died doing the tour. There had been complications with her brakes, and she was unable to make a corner. It was awful, yet there were questions about the quality of the tour company used, and we still went ahead with it. I was relieved to find that our tour guide was really informative and helpful in giving advice on how to control the bikes. The bikes too were all in good shape, and we were decked out in all the necessary padding (not that it would help if you were to go off a cliff, but it was better than nothing!).
We started off on the tarmac before the entrance to the original Death Road, so that we could get used to controlling the bikes. Up high in the mountains, the views were stunning, as at times we were above the white fluffy clouds. Tash had a little accident on this part, as the wind blew into her eyes and shifted her contacts, but you wouldn't even have known, as she was right back on that bike! From then on she was referred to as "la chica fuerte" (the strong girl). Yes, it was scary when we got up to the initial start of the Death Road, where the smooth tarmac disappeared, and was replaced with a narrow, dusty and uneven surface. I began at a snail's pace, I wasn't taking any chances. Plus, there was no pressure to go fast, as we stopped for photo ops of the valleys and mountains.
The width of the road was unbelievable. No wonder there had been so many accidents, when public traffic was permitted on the road, when the width would only really allow enough room for one large car. At one point, the drop from off the side of the road was as high as 400 meters. This was terrifying, as the road was so narrow, that on some corners, you could picture how easy it was for cars to lose control off the edge. Despite all these thoughts flowing through my mind, I managed to stay focussed on the terrain in front of me. My eyes actually hurt from the concentration. We stopped for a number of photo ops, as the views from the road were stunning. Everything was lush and green, around the ominous moutains, and the sun shone brightly making it quite warm.
It was a long and hard downhill experience. The constant bumping over the rough terrain was tiring, even though we didn't really have to peddle much until the end! Still, we survived Death Road, and have the t-shirt to prove it. Sorry mother, but sometimes, danger is a lot of fun.
After that exciting experience, La Paz drew to an end. Wild nights out, steep but beautiful hills, stunning sprawling views of the city from the mirador, eating fish in the cheap mercado, and conquering the World's Most Dangerous Road...nos gustamos La Paz mucho!
From speaking to travellers passing in the opposite direction, we heard that La Paz can be overwhelming at times, not just because of the acclimatising to the altitude, but also because of the dangers of a touristy capital city. The streets of La Paz are never quiet, and this was a tiny bit daunting at first, but with time, we were charmed by the bustling population of the city.
Despite us being aware that La Paz was sky-high in the mountains, we were still amazed about its hilly layout. At such high altitude, and with the sun shining strongly every day, walking around the steep city roads could be quite a challenge. Even at a snails pace, we were panting heavily up the market streets, with older men carrying planks of wood, overtaking us with ease! It was our first chaotic Bolivian city, and we loved it from the first morning.
We stayed at the infamous Wild Rover Backpackers hostel, which partied every night. It was a great base for our La Paz experience, as we trully got a taste of the wild La Paz nightlife (but with the little perks of comfy beds and hot power showers!). Here, we were reunited with our Bolivian family, Agus, Allen and Julie, in time to accompany Agus in cheering on Barcelona in the Champions League Final (Yes, many of the English residents of Wild Rover were appauled at our allegiance with Barca, but as a Spurs fan, I felt I was within my rights!).
Tash and I ventured out with a couple of the Wild Rover crowd, to a disappointly gringo dominated nightclub. We still had fun, but the night lacked a bit of La Paz authenticity, which we vowed to rectify the next day.
Our days were filled with wanders around the city. We explored the artesan markets, full of every type of alapaca garment you could wish for, outstandingly cheap silver jewellry, and all other tourist wares. Here we shopped like crazy, letting out all our pent up frustration. La Paz is famously cheap for shopping, and even now I still think I should have bought more. We also ventured through the witches market, with all sorts of herbal remedies, and questionable witchcraft items; such as llama foetuses, dead birds and other strange bottled creatures.
We visited the Coca museum, where we all learnt more about the wonders of the coca leaf. It was shockingly our first trip to a museum so far (poor effort) but it was really worthwhile to learn more about something that is so important in Bolivian culture. Having said that, I feel that you can learn more about native cultures, by eating in a local restaurant or just talking with people in the markets. One of the reasons why La Paz was so quirky for me, was because of the amount of traditional clothing that is still worn by the cholitas. The stocky Bolivian woman, dressed in their long skirts, thick jumpers, and with small bowler hats on their braided long hair still dominate the population of La Paz, despite seeing more and more modern dress. The cholitas will stride up the steep hills with children tied to their backs, and carrying huge heavy bags of goods. Bolivian women are strong, and never fail to amaze.
Now, many adrenaline seekers head to La Paz in order to the infamous downhill bicycle tour of the world's most dangerous road (aka. "Death Road"). The Yungas Road covering the 61 kilometers between La Paz and Coroico, was closed down and a new road rebuilt, after 200-300 people per year would die driving along the downhill gravel road. Nowadays, the road attracts many thrillseekers to moutain bike the way down the hill, with lots of La Paz tour operators running a show. I have to admit, I was curious as soon as I heard about it, but still took some persuading. Eventually we caved in, and decided to join Agus and Julie on their Death Road tour, as long as we could go as slow as we wanted, and we were only going with a decent company!
That morning, I had butterflies in my stomach. The night before we had heard that, tragically a girl had died doing the tour. There had been complications with her brakes, and she was unable to make a corner. It was awful, yet there were questions about the quality of the tour company used, and we still went ahead with it. I was relieved to find that our tour guide was really informative and helpful in giving advice on how to control the bikes. The bikes too were all in good shape, and we were decked out in all the necessary padding (not that it would help if you were to go off a cliff, but it was better than nothing!).
We started off on the tarmac before the entrance to the original Death Road, so that we could get used to controlling the bikes. Up high in the mountains, the views were stunning, as at times we were above the white fluffy clouds. Tash had a little accident on this part, as the wind blew into her eyes and shifted her contacts, but you wouldn't even have known, as she was right back on that bike! From then on she was referred to as "la chica fuerte" (the strong girl). Yes, it was scary when we got up to the initial start of the Death Road, where the smooth tarmac disappeared, and was replaced with a narrow, dusty and uneven surface. I began at a snail's pace, I wasn't taking any chances. Plus, there was no pressure to go fast, as we stopped for photo ops of the valleys and mountains.
The width of the road was unbelievable. No wonder there had been so many accidents, when public traffic was permitted on the road, when the width would only really allow enough room for one large car. At one point, the drop from off the side of the road was as high as 400 meters. This was terrifying, as the road was so narrow, that on some corners, you could picture how easy it was for cars to lose control off the edge. Despite all these thoughts flowing through my mind, I managed to stay focussed on the terrain in front of me. My eyes actually hurt from the concentration. We stopped for a number of photo ops, as the views from the road were stunning. Everything was lush and green, around the ominous moutains, and the sun shone brightly making it quite warm.
It was a long and hard downhill experience. The constant bumping over the rough terrain was tiring, even though we didn't really have to peddle much until the end! Still, we survived Death Road, and have the t-shirt to prove it. Sorry mother, but sometimes, danger is a lot of fun.
After that exciting experience, La Paz drew to an end. Wild nights out, steep but beautiful hills, stunning sprawling views of the city from the mirador, eating fish in the cheap mercado, and conquering the World's Most Dangerous Road...nos gustamos La Paz mucho!
Wednesday, 1 June 2011
Para Mi...Sucré
So...after four amazing days in Bolivia´s outstanding Salt Flats, we were off to our next destination, Sucré.
The journey alone was eventful. The bus to Potosi, broke down a number of times in the mountains, and I had to pass two babies out of the coach window. Yes, you read correctly. Two living, dribbling babies. Out of a coach window over two meters above the ground. It was terrifying, but it was funny, yet I´m still unsure as to why it was necessary. I think now, from having spent more time in Bolivia, you just accept it as normal.
Anyway, Sucré. Para mi, si. As Bolvia's cultural capital, proud Sucré is the beautiful city rival of La Paz. Set high up on the hills, the city was a surprising first representation of a Bolivian city; it was just so clean, modern and prosperous. Obviously, not all of Sucré's population would agree that it was prosperous, but it is one of the more educated and successful cities in Bolivia, a fact of which the people are proud of.
After our four days of dirt and cold in the salt flats, Sucré brought us all back to life! We spent our days exploring the markets, and had our daily fresh fruit smoothie for breakfast at the food mercado. We dined cheaply, on street food or in smarter restaurants, and soaked up the sun and the atmosphere in the main plaza. The hundreds of artesanias kept us busy for hours, though we excersized as much restraint as we could, as La Paz would be our retail mecca. We went horseriding in the countryside around the city, where I galloped for the first time, and discovered (if not a little late) that I was quite allergic to horses! Still, our salt flats family, of Julie, Agus, Allen and 'Nacho' bonded well, and had many a fun evening.
We were also very happy to hear that we could be around for the 202nd anniversary of Sucré. In South America, this could only mean one thing: one big three day FIESTA!!! It was going to be a three day street party, with parades, bands and fireworks going on throughout the evening into the nights. We instantly changed any plans of leaving, to soak up the colourful delights of a Bolivian fiesta.
Fiestas completely take over the city. It's something South America is famous for, and we were not disappointed. Families of all generations take to the streets to spectate, as big brass bands, soldiers and dancers with big beautiful traditional costumes parade through the streets. It was all very well rehearsed, but the atmosphere was electric.
At night, the parading continued, and street vendors make their mint with everyone feasting on cheap but delicious eats. We spoilt ourselves with the best hamburguesa I have ever tasted, with a burger, chorizo, chips and as much sauce as you like, all crammed inside a soft white bap! Cheap, but tastes like heaven, especially after a few rum and cokes! We talked and watched the fireworks with the local students, exchanging language tips and taking drunken photographs. Everyone was friendly and happy, and it was contagious.
If the above hasn't made it crystal clear already, we loved Sucré. Yet as with every place whilst travelling, eventually you must move on, so we broke away from our Sucré family and decided to venture towards the jungle. Santa Cruz was going to be our little taster of the Amazon climate, where we could catch some sun and explore the different side of our beloved Bolivia...
Unfortunately, Santa Cruz was disappointing. The weather was bad, and we were unaware of how expensive and difficult it was to get to the nearby nacional parque. Whilst I'm sure it had its charms, Santa Cruz just couldn't live up to Sucré, so after feasting in some nice restaurants we decided to make for La Paz. Back to be reunited with Agus, Allen and Julie, and back to a city...famous for being wild.
The journey alone was eventful. The bus to Potosi, broke down a number of times in the mountains, and I had to pass two babies out of the coach window. Yes, you read correctly. Two living, dribbling babies. Out of a coach window over two meters above the ground. It was terrifying, but it was funny, yet I´m still unsure as to why it was necessary. I think now, from having spent more time in Bolivia, you just accept it as normal.
Anyway, Sucré. Para mi, si. As Bolvia's cultural capital, proud Sucré is the beautiful city rival of La Paz. Set high up on the hills, the city was a surprising first representation of a Bolivian city; it was just so clean, modern and prosperous. Obviously, not all of Sucré's population would agree that it was prosperous, but it is one of the more educated and successful cities in Bolivia, a fact of which the people are proud of.
After our four days of dirt and cold in the salt flats, Sucré brought us all back to life! We spent our days exploring the markets, and had our daily fresh fruit smoothie for breakfast at the food mercado. We dined cheaply, on street food or in smarter restaurants, and soaked up the sun and the atmosphere in the main plaza. The hundreds of artesanias kept us busy for hours, though we excersized as much restraint as we could, as La Paz would be our retail mecca. We went horseriding in the countryside around the city, where I galloped for the first time, and discovered (if not a little late) that I was quite allergic to horses! Still, our salt flats family, of Julie, Agus, Allen and 'Nacho' bonded well, and had many a fun evening.
We were also very happy to hear that we could be around for the 202nd anniversary of Sucré. In South America, this could only mean one thing: one big three day FIESTA!!! It was going to be a three day street party, with parades, bands and fireworks going on throughout the evening into the nights. We instantly changed any plans of leaving, to soak up the colourful delights of a Bolivian fiesta.
Fiestas completely take over the city. It's something South America is famous for, and we were not disappointed. Families of all generations take to the streets to spectate, as big brass bands, soldiers and dancers with big beautiful traditional costumes parade through the streets. It was all very well rehearsed, but the atmosphere was electric.
At night, the parading continued, and street vendors make their mint with everyone feasting on cheap but delicious eats. We spoilt ourselves with the best hamburguesa I have ever tasted, with a burger, chorizo, chips and as much sauce as you like, all crammed inside a soft white bap! Cheap, but tastes like heaven, especially after a few rum and cokes! We talked and watched the fireworks with the local students, exchanging language tips and taking drunken photographs. Everyone was friendly and happy, and it was contagious.
If the above hasn't made it crystal clear already, we loved Sucré. Yet as with every place whilst travelling, eventually you must move on, so we broke away from our Sucré family and decided to venture towards the jungle. Santa Cruz was going to be our little taster of the Amazon climate, where we could catch some sun and explore the different side of our beloved Bolivia...
Unfortunately, Santa Cruz was disappointing. The weather was bad, and we were unaware of how expensive and difficult it was to get to the nearby nacional parque. Whilst I'm sure it had its charms, Santa Cruz just couldn't live up to Sucré, so after feasting in some nice restaurants we decided to make for La Paz. Back to be reunited with Agus, Allen and Julie, and back to a city...famous for being wild.
Sunday, 29 May 2011
Bolivia and the freeeeeezing Salar de Uyuni...
Bolivia. Arguably South America´s poorest country, with around 60% of the population suffering in poverty. From a traveller´s point of view, this can sometimes make for the best experiences. Bolivia is known for being the cheapest country to travel in, and what it lacks in monetary value, it makes up for in its wealth of nature.
We arrived in Bolivia, tired and hungry, and with most of Bolivia being at extremely high altitude, we instantly felt pretty ill. Altitude sickness is a big problem for travellers arriving in Bolivia, as most of the country's main sights are up in the mountains. I had already been made aware of this, and had recommended remedies such as chewing on coca leaves like the locals, or if not available, chocolate and lots of water. At short notice...chocolate was my preferred option! Dosage, self diagnosed.
Our first stop was Tupiza, in the South West of the country. Known as Bolivia´s wild west, we were taken in a rickety old bus through the rough roads, into the mountains. It was "so long" and "farewell" to the comforts of Argentinian transport, and a rude awakening to the rough, dusty and cramped buses of Bolivia. Amongst our fellow passengers, packed shoulder to shoulder in the aisles, were a couple of cockerals, and a dozen chicks. Viva South America!
Tupiza, the small dusty town, geared around organizing tours of the surrounding countryside and mainly for the infamous salt flats, offered little else to keep us there. Don't get me wrong, the views surrounding the town were stunning, with the orange and red mountains dominating the landscape, but we were short on time, and eager to sort our tour of the salar.
In the end, we opted for the four day tour, with 'La Torre' tour company, which would take us through the mountains and the national reserve for the three days before we even get to the infamous salt flats of Uyuni. It was a great deal, with all food and "basic" accomodation included. All we really needed to invest in was lots of warm clothing and sleeping bags, because it was going to be cold.
We had NO idea.
The first day was mainly ploughing through the mountainous deserts, taking us towards the reserve for our first night. We were introduced to our tour family. First there was "Super" Mario, our gangster looking driver, who had little to say, but lots of attitude (chewing on his coca leaves, and smiling wryly when we did something silly). Then, was our mama, Margarita. A wonderful classic Bolivian lady, dressed in her flowing skirt, wooly jumper and with her hair in long black plaits. She cooked us Bolivian feasts, three times a day, and called us her "chicas locas". Then were our fellow tourists, Liam the scouser who we'd met in Tupiza, and the French-Canadian brothers Eric and Charles. Sure, it was bit of a squeeze for four days in our jeep, but it was warmer than outside!
Never in four days have I been so blown away by the most varied landscapes I've ever seen in one province. We went from the barren, dusty, rocky red deserts around Tupiza, through deserted ghost towns, up into the icy lagoons at 4,855 ft above sea level, snow topped mountains, to white sodium filled lakes. Once in the Eduardo Avaroa Andean Fauna National Reserve, we were to stay our first night in the below zero temperatures, with no electricity or heating, but to be able to look above and see the milky way clearer than ever before, was worth all the shivering pain!
Each day kept our trigger fingers busy on our cameras, with countless Kodak moments. For example, Laguna Verde, one of my favourites, dazzled me with its sparkling emerald green water, overlooked by the majestic grey, snow topped Volcan Licancabur.
We were able to relax in natural hotsprings over looking the snow topped mountain ranges and frozen waters. We had loads of crazy rocks to climb, and we found energy from out of nowhere. Running around the geysers, billowing out clouds of sulphur, at a casual 5000 meters above sealevel, probably wasn't the best idea, but it was all part of our delirium.
After this came another breathtaking lagoon. Laguna Colorada, famous for its fiery red and pink waters, dazzled us in the afternoon sun. To add even more to the view, groups of pink flamingoes clustered together on the waters, feeding on the plankton that gives the waters its fiery hue. It was as great a sight as Laguna Verde, if not better.
We stayed nearby that night, and made the near fatal error of drinking, as a bonding exercise! At such high altitude, drinking alcohol is strongly advised against, and I suffered the consequences. I woke up in the middle of the night, with the worst headache I have experienced, and everyone was suffering the next morning. I did as the locals do, and turned to the magic of the coca leaf. Trust me, its a miracle. Yet, it didn't give me enough energy to climb all the crazy shaped rocks, such as the gravity defying Árbol de Piedra.
We passed through the desert, to Uyuni town, and on to our most unique accomodation; we were staying in a hotel made entirely out of salt. Yes, the walls, floor, fireplace, tables, chairs and beds were all made out of cold hard blocks of salt. Despite how it sounds, we were relatively comfortable that night (obviously apart from the cold).
That evening, we took our first trip to the Salar...for a stunning sunset. The Salar de Uyuni are the largest salt flats in the world, at 3650 meters, and have a unique weather condition. With the thin air and radiating sun, there is a drastic contrast in temperatures in and out of the shade. Winds can be strong and bitterly cold, with temperatures in the winter reaching -20 degrees celsius. We happened to be there in the wet season, so that the pools of water laid out on the flats, created a brilliant mirror reflection of the clear blue sky.
Needless to say, the sunset was beautfully clear, on a bare, flat white horizon. The next morning, we returned in the early hours, to watch the sun return to the sky once more. It was a slow sleepy morning, as the fourth and final day of our trip. Yet, we still managed to take some cleverly crafted photos of Tash and myself standing on an apple, me stepping on Tash, and a scruffy human pyramid.
After this, our tour was sadly drawing to an end. We had run out of time to see more of the flats, and all of us wanted to catch the daily bus to Sucré. So we said our goodbyes to our wonderful guides, Mama Margarita and Super Mario, and headed off to our next destination. Dirty, smelly, cold and tired, the salt flats had worn us down, but not one person complained. The previous four days were worth every shiver.
We arrived in Bolivia, tired and hungry, and with most of Bolivia being at extremely high altitude, we instantly felt pretty ill. Altitude sickness is a big problem for travellers arriving in Bolivia, as most of the country's main sights are up in the mountains. I had already been made aware of this, and had recommended remedies such as chewing on coca leaves like the locals, or if not available, chocolate and lots of water. At short notice...chocolate was my preferred option! Dosage, self diagnosed.
Our first stop was Tupiza, in the South West of the country. Known as Bolivia´s wild west, we were taken in a rickety old bus through the rough roads, into the mountains. It was "so long" and "farewell" to the comforts of Argentinian transport, and a rude awakening to the rough, dusty and cramped buses of Bolivia. Amongst our fellow passengers, packed shoulder to shoulder in the aisles, were a couple of cockerals, and a dozen chicks. Viva South America!
Tupiza, the small dusty town, geared around organizing tours of the surrounding countryside and mainly for the infamous salt flats, offered little else to keep us there. Don't get me wrong, the views surrounding the town were stunning, with the orange and red mountains dominating the landscape, but we were short on time, and eager to sort our tour of the salar.
In the end, we opted for the four day tour, with 'La Torre' tour company, which would take us through the mountains and the national reserve for the three days before we even get to the infamous salt flats of Uyuni. It was a great deal, with all food and "basic" accomodation included. All we really needed to invest in was lots of warm clothing and sleeping bags, because it was going to be cold.
We had NO idea.
The first day was mainly ploughing through the mountainous deserts, taking us towards the reserve for our first night. We were introduced to our tour family. First there was "Super" Mario, our gangster looking driver, who had little to say, but lots of attitude (chewing on his coca leaves, and smiling wryly when we did something silly). Then, was our mama, Margarita. A wonderful classic Bolivian lady, dressed in her flowing skirt, wooly jumper and with her hair in long black plaits. She cooked us Bolivian feasts, three times a day, and called us her "chicas locas". Then were our fellow tourists, Liam the scouser who we'd met in Tupiza, and the French-Canadian brothers Eric and Charles. Sure, it was bit of a squeeze for four days in our jeep, but it was warmer than outside!
Never in four days have I been so blown away by the most varied landscapes I've ever seen in one province. We went from the barren, dusty, rocky red deserts around Tupiza, through deserted ghost towns, up into the icy lagoons at 4,855 ft above sea level, snow topped mountains, to white sodium filled lakes. Once in the Eduardo Avaroa Andean Fauna National Reserve, we were to stay our first night in the below zero temperatures, with no electricity or heating, but to be able to look above and see the milky way clearer than ever before, was worth all the shivering pain!
Each day kept our trigger fingers busy on our cameras, with countless Kodak moments. For example, Laguna Verde, one of my favourites, dazzled me with its sparkling emerald green water, overlooked by the majestic grey, snow topped Volcan Licancabur.
We were able to relax in natural hotsprings over looking the snow topped mountain ranges and frozen waters. We had loads of crazy rocks to climb, and we found energy from out of nowhere. Running around the geysers, billowing out clouds of sulphur, at a casual 5000 meters above sealevel, probably wasn't the best idea, but it was all part of our delirium.
After this came another breathtaking lagoon. Laguna Colorada, famous for its fiery red and pink waters, dazzled us in the afternoon sun. To add even more to the view, groups of pink flamingoes clustered together on the waters, feeding on the plankton that gives the waters its fiery hue. It was as great a sight as Laguna Verde, if not better.
We stayed nearby that night, and made the near fatal error of drinking, as a bonding exercise! At such high altitude, drinking alcohol is strongly advised against, and I suffered the consequences. I woke up in the middle of the night, with the worst headache I have experienced, and everyone was suffering the next morning. I did as the locals do, and turned to the magic of the coca leaf. Trust me, its a miracle. Yet, it didn't give me enough energy to climb all the crazy shaped rocks, such as the gravity defying Árbol de Piedra.
We passed through the desert, to Uyuni town, and on to our most unique accomodation; we were staying in a hotel made entirely out of salt. Yes, the walls, floor, fireplace, tables, chairs and beds were all made out of cold hard blocks of salt. Despite how it sounds, we were relatively comfortable that night (obviously apart from the cold).
That evening, we took our first trip to the Salar...for a stunning sunset. The Salar de Uyuni are the largest salt flats in the world, at 3650 meters, and have a unique weather condition. With the thin air and radiating sun, there is a drastic contrast in temperatures in and out of the shade. Winds can be strong and bitterly cold, with temperatures in the winter reaching -20 degrees celsius. We happened to be there in the wet season, so that the pools of water laid out on the flats, created a brilliant mirror reflection of the clear blue sky.
Needless to say, the sunset was beautfully clear, on a bare, flat white horizon. The next morning, we returned in the early hours, to watch the sun return to the sky once more. It was a slow sleepy morning, as the fourth and final day of our trip. Yet, we still managed to take some cleverly crafted photos of Tash and myself standing on an apple, me stepping on Tash, and a scruffy human pyramid.
After this, our tour was sadly drawing to an end. We had run out of time to see more of the flats, and all of us wanted to catch the daily bus to Sucré. So we said our goodbyes to our wonderful guides, Mama Margarita and Super Mario, and headed off to our next destination. Dirty, smelly, cold and tired, the salt flats had worn us down, but not one person complained. The previous four days were worth every shiver.
Friday, 20 May 2011
Buenos Aires and the beginning of South America....
And so begins Part II of my journey. Goodbye to South East Asia, and Buenos dias Buenos Aires, Argentina and South America!
After two and half months of Asian delights, I´ve dropped myself off into a completely different arena. South America couldn´t really get any more different, and I love it already.
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BUENOS AIRES
My first stop was Buenos Aires: the most exciting and cosmopolitan city in Latin America, famous for its colourful buildings, delicious steaks, and beautiful people. As the capital of Argentina, it stands out as a hub of activity and fun; a city that, literally, never sleeps.
After some sad goodbyes, it was time for a hysterically happy hello with none other than Tash Ozeren! I was reunited with this friendly face, after the longest of journeys, and I was so happy! Tash was full of excitement, nerves, and energy...and despite my jetlag, I mustered up some of my own.
We filled our days with Buenos Aires sights. Firstly, we headed to La Boca, the birthplace of Tango, and home to one of Argentina´s big football teams, ´Boca Juniors`. The streets were lined with colourful, quirky buildings, with artesanias and restaurants filling the area with people. It was refreshing to recognise the language at last. After five years of Spanish at school, I had enough knowledge to get around, albeit not easily. Yet, instantly, I felt at home with the latin culture. Argentina as a South American country is very European, especially in BA, so it was all a little bit more familiar for me.
La Boca claims to be the birth of Tango, due to housing many immigrants, who needed a universal language to communicate. This is where the world famous dance was said to have begun, and walking along the streets of La Boca, we were entertained by many different Tango dances, with women in heeled shoes and flowing skirts, erotically wrapping themselves round their male partner. However, back in the early days of Tango, the dance was traditionally danced between two men, as it was deemed improper for women and men to be in such positions in public. How I wish I could see that version...
Of course, Tango is not the only famous thing from La Boca, as I said before. The stadium of CABJ (Boca Juniors fútbol team) was a main stop on the walking tour. As the first team of the national hero, Maradona, Boca´s stadium is also a museum, Museo de la Pación Boquense. As our guide explained to us, Boca fans (and generally all Argentinian football fans) are crazy, and by that she meant insane. Though, she was a River Plate fan, and that´s like me as a Spurs fan, hosting a tour of Highbury. Still, in Argentina, one of the most important debates is "Who is the best player in the world: Maradona or Messi?". I don´t really think there is one true winner, and most of us wouldn´t really care, but this is Argentina and football is life...
We also explored the markets of fashionable Palermo, and authentic San Telmo. These markets were full of treats, in the form of the irresistable Alpaca knitwear, hand crafted jewellry, woven bags, and antique jewellry. It was difficult to walk past, but we had been reliably informed that Argentina was the most expensive place to buy such goods, so we should wait until Bolivia. Yes, it was torture.
Buenos Aires is a lively city at the best of times, but we happened to be there during a protest in the middle of the main political street, Avenida de Mayo. This also happened to be where our hostel, the party filled ´Milhouse´ was situated, so we were right in the thick of it. This protest was to do with a land issue up in the north of Argentina, but also collided with the May Day Political protests. For someone who had never experienced a protest before, yet alone in a South American country, this was pretty cool. Most of the days we´d simply walk past quickly, shielding ourselves against the cold wind, but occaisionally our plans were disrupted due to the marches from one end of the Avenida, to the other.
Food in Buenos Aires was wonderful. Argentina prides itself on its meat dishes, whether you choose a juicy steak, the meatiest choripan (chorizo sandwich) or a warm and filling empanada de carne. Top that off with an impressive selection of red wines, and I was in heaven. After two months of mainly veggie dishes of fried rice and noodles, meat was what I craved. We were, of course, concerned about our figures, but with empanadas at about 40p each, it was an easy choice.
And of course, the main thing that stands out about BA is the nightlife! The capital takes its reputation as "the city that never sleeps" very seriously, and we were thrown right in the deepend by staying at a party hostel like Milhouse. Every night there was a party at the hostel, ending in a different club. We made it out 3 of the nights, which was tough with my jetlag, but obviously a necessity. Each club we went to was different, but equally as lively. I found that BA is one capital where we actually felt quite safe walking home in the dark, as the streets were still full of people! For the first time in my life, I had a McDonalds at 5am along with fifty other people (who weren´t so stupid as to put sugar on their fries...). Buenos Aires was crazy, and in turn, it made us crazy! Running across the streets shouting "TOURIST!" is not something one would normally do...but it happened. Sending drunken facebook messages at 7am back at the hostel is not something I would see myself ever doing...but it happened. We were having what our friends would call a "nervy B", but it was fun.
To make it all the more wild, my twenty-second birthday occurred in Buenos Aires, and what better place to party?! We celebrated during the day with a trip to the match between Boca Juniors and Independiente, where the fans were more impressive than the football (in everyone´s opinion) and the atmosphere was electric. No alcohol allowed, or needed, at all. Once safely home, from this supposedly dodgy area, we had a juicy steak, and copious amounts of wine. Then followed more fiesta. I won´t go into all the details, as their funnier for me than for you, but it was a night to remember (mostly anyway).
It was hard for us to leave the bubble of BA, but we had a lot to do, and so much more excitement to come. Sadly for us, we couldn´t cover Argentina like we´d wanted to. Money and time are not our friends here, and Argentina is expensive. The bus system in Argentina is famous for being luxurious but pricey. So our time in the country was cut short to include the world famous Iguazu falls, and a week of Spanish lessons in the University city of Cordoba.
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IGUAZU FALLS
Iguazu was simply incredible. Way up on the border with Brazil, Iguazu are a collection of the most humbling and stunning waterfalls in the world. It was a long way out of our route, but everyone calls it a necessity. We made the long but comfortable bus journey up to Puerta Iguazu, a small and quiet town, cashing in on the main tourist attraction just an hour away. The park was full of wonderful white waterfalls, dotted about all over the place. Garganta del Diablo (the Devil´s throat) is the most awesome and humbling, as it spreads out over a vast space and its thundering falls can be heard from hundreds of meters away, and the clouds of spray can be seen in the sky for a mile. Tash and I were hysterically excited. We´d read that people believe that ions released from the falls cause people to feel happy, and we completely believed it. Standing at the waters edge, looking down into the seemingly bottomless clouds of spray, with birds circling round in the mouth of the falls, we felt so small. It´s those things that I love to travel for...I love to be made to feel insignificant and small, like nothing in my bubble of life really matters. That is how we both felt, and it felt so good.
The rest of the park was beautiful too. The falls were much smaller, but could be seen from further away. It was a Kodak dream for me. Tash has a love for butterflies, and I have a love for rainbows, so put those two things together with stunning waterfalls and a bright blue sky, and its just MAGIC. Honestly, we felt like we were in a fairytale, and we were delirious with glee.
We took the thrilling boat ride into the mouth of one of the falls. It was pretty scary, but amazing too. We were taken right into the spray of the falls, which felt less like spray, and more like twenty gallons of cold water being thrown over our heads. It was exhiliarating, but very, VERY cold. We dried off in the sun, fending off the racoon-like caotis from our lunches, and headed back to Diablo for one more chance at feeling completely worry free.
It was the perfect day, and we slept soundly in our beds that night. We´d had our little dose of natural magic at Iguazu, and we promised each other, that if we ever felt stressed or worried at home, we´d think back to Iguazu, and we would have our perspective back again.
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CÓRDOBA
Córdoba, Argentina´s most populated city after the capital, and our home for a whole week. As a university cirty, with around seven different universities, Córdoba seemed to be the ideal place for us to study Spanish. Despite having learnt Spanish at school, I am extremely rusty, and I love the language, so one of the main reasons for my trip to South America was to become fluent. Tash could not speak a word more than "hola" or "gracias", so it was very important for her to learn the native language, not just for necessity but to be more cultured. Also, back in Buenos Aires, there was an ´incident´ where, due to the language barrier, a pair of Argentinian men had to resort to a version of pictionary to hit on Tash and me (it consisted of two stickmen girls, with an arrow to two stickmen outside a house with a question mark and love hearts...classy).
Córdoba, as a city, does not have that much to offer tourists. It is a pretty city, and has a good student based night life, but other than that, unless you are having daily spanish lessons, there´s little else to do. We signed up for our week course from our "Baluche" hostel, a chilled out, comfortable and sociable home for us. We met lots of lovely people, all travelling in different directions, and studied Spanish during the day with our tutor Monica.
It turns out that Argentinian Spanish is very different from the Spanish that I learnt at school. Argentinians have a very different accent, where they pronounce the ´ll´ with a ´sh´ sound, and have different tenses for the verbs. This explained why I struggled to communicate so much with the locals, but also made me concerned about Tash learning this Spanish. Considering we were leaving Argentina straight after Córdoba, and spending the majority of our time in countries that speak the normal Spanish, it seemed pointless. However, it turned out to be ok, as I explained the difference to Tash, and she found it easier to remember anyway! Also, it was more of a crash course that we had, as you just can´t learn Spanish is a week. Tash as a beginner was put in the same class as me, which was tough for both of us at times, but it gave Tash the basics, and refreshed my memory of verb endings. I found it really useful, remember how to use the different tenses, and Tash learnt the basics of pronounciation and useful vocabulary. Monica was also very entertaining; we were taught about different cultures in Argentina, as well as the different meals, and customs.
So we were being educated, and this was important to us. I´d taken a knock back after discovering that my funds were depleting a lot quicker than I anticipated, and we decided to skip the beautiful wine country of Mendoza. I was really disappointed, as people passing through our hostel kept telling us how lovely it was, but I decided that it was more important to make it to cheaper Bolivia and all the delights that awaited us there.
Every little helps, so in Córdoba we kept to strict budget, and cooked for ourselves in our lovely little hostel. We spend barely anything, which was all important, and it was good to have a base. We ventured out of town to Alta Gracia, to visit the childhood home of Ernesto ´Che´ Guevara. The tiny little museum, in memory of Argentina´s most famous political persona was really interesting. Despite Che´s main influence being in Cuba, Argentina is still very proud of the educated, charming, and inspiring revolutionary. I already knew a bit about Che´s personal life, from watching the dramatization film, ´The Motorcycle Diaries´, but did not know as much about his political life. It was fascinating for me, and I like to think that he was a kind spirited man as well as a revolutionary, who loved his family, and believed in freedom. Argentina does right to be proud.
So after finishing our week long course, I felt a lot more equipped to deal with travelling in Bolivia and Peru. Tash and I said goodbye to our German friends in Baluche, and got ready to get down and dirty in poorer and more "South American" Bolivia.
One last juicy steak, and we are ready for the next exciting country. We got our last luxurious bus with our beloved "Expresso Singer" bus company (on this occasion without the champagne and ´inflight´ movies) and headed up to the border...
Argentina, we´ll be back for more, as Buenos Aires is just too good, and the beautiful south of Patagonia needs to be explored. So for now...hasta luego amigo.
After two and half months of Asian delights, I´ve dropped myself off into a completely different arena. South America couldn´t really get any more different, and I love it already.
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BUENOS AIRES
My first stop was Buenos Aires: the most exciting and cosmopolitan city in Latin America, famous for its colourful buildings, delicious steaks, and beautiful people. As the capital of Argentina, it stands out as a hub of activity and fun; a city that, literally, never sleeps.
After some sad goodbyes, it was time for a hysterically happy hello with none other than Tash Ozeren! I was reunited with this friendly face, after the longest of journeys, and I was so happy! Tash was full of excitement, nerves, and energy...and despite my jetlag, I mustered up some of my own.
We filled our days with Buenos Aires sights. Firstly, we headed to La Boca, the birthplace of Tango, and home to one of Argentina´s big football teams, ´Boca Juniors`. The streets were lined with colourful, quirky buildings, with artesanias and restaurants filling the area with people. It was refreshing to recognise the language at last. After five years of Spanish at school, I had enough knowledge to get around, albeit not easily. Yet, instantly, I felt at home with the latin culture. Argentina as a South American country is very European, especially in BA, so it was all a little bit more familiar for me.
La Boca claims to be the birth of Tango, due to housing many immigrants, who needed a universal language to communicate. This is where the world famous dance was said to have begun, and walking along the streets of La Boca, we were entertained by many different Tango dances, with women in heeled shoes and flowing skirts, erotically wrapping themselves round their male partner. However, back in the early days of Tango, the dance was traditionally danced between two men, as it was deemed improper for women and men to be in such positions in public. How I wish I could see that version...
Of course, Tango is not the only famous thing from La Boca, as I said before. The stadium of CABJ (Boca Juniors fútbol team) was a main stop on the walking tour. As the first team of the national hero, Maradona, Boca´s stadium is also a museum, Museo de la Pación Boquense. As our guide explained to us, Boca fans (and generally all Argentinian football fans) are crazy, and by that she meant insane. Though, she was a River Plate fan, and that´s like me as a Spurs fan, hosting a tour of Highbury. Still, in Argentina, one of the most important debates is "Who is the best player in the world: Maradona or Messi?". I don´t really think there is one true winner, and most of us wouldn´t really care, but this is Argentina and football is life...
We also explored the markets of fashionable Palermo, and authentic San Telmo. These markets were full of treats, in the form of the irresistable Alpaca knitwear, hand crafted jewellry, woven bags, and antique jewellry. It was difficult to walk past, but we had been reliably informed that Argentina was the most expensive place to buy such goods, so we should wait until Bolivia. Yes, it was torture.
Buenos Aires is a lively city at the best of times, but we happened to be there during a protest in the middle of the main political street, Avenida de Mayo. This also happened to be where our hostel, the party filled ´Milhouse´ was situated, so we were right in the thick of it. This protest was to do with a land issue up in the north of Argentina, but also collided with the May Day Political protests. For someone who had never experienced a protest before, yet alone in a South American country, this was pretty cool. Most of the days we´d simply walk past quickly, shielding ourselves against the cold wind, but occaisionally our plans were disrupted due to the marches from one end of the Avenida, to the other.
Food in Buenos Aires was wonderful. Argentina prides itself on its meat dishes, whether you choose a juicy steak, the meatiest choripan (chorizo sandwich) or a warm and filling empanada de carne. Top that off with an impressive selection of red wines, and I was in heaven. After two months of mainly veggie dishes of fried rice and noodles, meat was what I craved. We were, of course, concerned about our figures, but with empanadas at about 40p each, it was an easy choice.
And of course, the main thing that stands out about BA is the nightlife! The capital takes its reputation as "the city that never sleeps" very seriously, and we were thrown right in the deepend by staying at a party hostel like Milhouse. Every night there was a party at the hostel, ending in a different club. We made it out 3 of the nights, which was tough with my jetlag, but obviously a necessity. Each club we went to was different, but equally as lively. I found that BA is one capital where we actually felt quite safe walking home in the dark, as the streets were still full of people! For the first time in my life, I had a McDonalds at 5am along with fifty other people (who weren´t so stupid as to put sugar on their fries...). Buenos Aires was crazy, and in turn, it made us crazy! Running across the streets shouting "TOURIST!" is not something one would normally do...but it happened. Sending drunken facebook messages at 7am back at the hostel is not something I would see myself ever doing...but it happened. We were having what our friends would call a "nervy B", but it was fun.
To make it all the more wild, my twenty-second birthday occurred in Buenos Aires, and what better place to party?! We celebrated during the day with a trip to the match between Boca Juniors and Independiente, where the fans were more impressive than the football (in everyone´s opinion) and the atmosphere was electric. No alcohol allowed, or needed, at all. Once safely home, from this supposedly dodgy area, we had a juicy steak, and copious amounts of wine. Then followed more fiesta. I won´t go into all the details, as their funnier for me than for you, but it was a night to remember (mostly anyway).
It was hard for us to leave the bubble of BA, but we had a lot to do, and so much more excitement to come. Sadly for us, we couldn´t cover Argentina like we´d wanted to. Money and time are not our friends here, and Argentina is expensive. The bus system in Argentina is famous for being luxurious but pricey. So our time in the country was cut short to include the world famous Iguazu falls, and a week of Spanish lessons in the University city of Cordoba.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
IGUAZU FALLS
Iguazu was simply incredible. Way up on the border with Brazil, Iguazu are a collection of the most humbling and stunning waterfalls in the world. It was a long way out of our route, but everyone calls it a necessity. We made the long but comfortable bus journey up to Puerta Iguazu, a small and quiet town, cashing in on the main tourist attraction just an hour away. The park was full of wonderful white waterfalls, dotted about all over the place. Garganta del Diablo (the Devil´s throat) is the most awesome and humbling, as it spreads out over a vast space and its thundering falls can be heard from hundreds of meters away, and the clouds of spray can be seen in the sky for a mile. Tash and I were hysterically excited. We´d read that people believe that ions released from the falls cause people to feel happy, and we completely believed it. Standing at the waters edge, looking down into the seemingly bottomless clouds of spray, with birds circling round in the mouth of the falls, we felt so small. It´s those things that I love to travel for...I love to be made to feel insignificant and small, like nothing in my bubble of life really matters. That is how we both felt, and it felt so good.
The rest of the park was beautiful too. The falls were much smaller, but could be seen from further away. It was a Kodak dream for me. Tash has a love for butterflies, and I have a love for rainbows, so put those two things together with stunning waterfalls and a bright blue sky, and its just MAGIC. Honestly, we felt like we were in a fairytale, and we were delirious with glee.
We took the thrilling boat ride into the mouth of one of the falls. It was pretty scary, but amazing too. We were taken right into the spray of the falls, which felt less like spray, and more like twenty gallons of cold water being thrown over our heads. It was exhiliarating, but very, VERY cold. We dried off in the sun, fending off the racoon-like caotis from our lunches, and headed back to Diablo for one more chance at feeling completely worry free.
It was the perfect day, and we slept soundly in our beds that night. We´d had our little dose of natural magic at Iguazu, and we promised each other, that if we ever felt stressed or worried at home, we´d think back to Iguazu, and we would have our perspective back again.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
CÓRDOBA
Córdoba, Argentina´s most populated city after the capital, and our home for a whole week. As a university cirty, with around seven different universities, Córdoba seemed to be the ideal place for us to study Spanish. Despite having learnt Spanish at school, I am extremely rusty, and I love the language, so one of the main reasons for my trip to South America was to become fluent. Tash could not speak a word more than "hola" or "gracias", so it was very important for her to learn the native language, not just for necessity but to be more cultured. Also, back in Buenos Aires, there was an ´incident´ where, due to the language barrier, a pair of Argentinian men had to resort to a version of pictionary to hit on Tash and me (it consisted of two stickmen girls, with an arrow to two stickmen outside a house with a question mark and love hearts...classy).
Córdoba, as a city, does not have that much to offer tourists. It is a pretty city, and has a good student based night life, but other than that, unless you are having daily spanish lessons, there´s little else to do. We signed up for our week course from our "Baluche" hostel, a chilled out, comfortable and sociable home for us. We met lots of lovely people, all travelling in different directions, and studied Spanish during the day with our tutor Monica.
It turns out that Argentinian Spanish is very different from the Spanish that I learnt at school. Argentinians have a very different accent, where they pronounce the ´ll´ with a ´sh´ sound, and have different tenses for the verbs. This explained why I struggled to communicate so much with the locals, but also made me concerned about Tash learning this Spanish. Considering we were leaving Argentina straight after Córdoba, and spending the majority of our time in countries that speak the normal Spanish, it seemed pointless. However, it turned out to be ok, as I explained the difference to Tash, and she found it easier to remember anyway! Also, it was more of a crash course that we had, as you just can´t learn Spanish is a week. Tash as a beginner was put in the same class as me, which was tough for both of us at times, but it gave Tash the basics, and refreshed my memory of verb endings. I found it really useful, remember how to use the different tenses, and Tash learnt the basics of pronounciation and useful vocabulary. Monica was also very entertaining; we were taught about different cultures in Argentina, as well as the different meals, and customs.
So we were being educated, and this was important to us. I´d taken a knock back after discovering that my funds were depleting a lot quicker than I anticipated, and we decided to skip the beautiful wine country of Mendoza. I was really disappointed, as people passing through our hostel kept telling us how lovely it was, but I decided that it was more important to make it to cheaper Bolivia and all the delights that awaited us there.
Every little helps, so in Córdoba we kept to strict budget, and cooked for ourselves in our lovely little hostel. We spend barely anything, which was all important, and it was good to have a base. We ventured out of town to Alta Gracia, to visit the childhood home of Ernesto ´Che´ Guevara. The tiny little museum, in memory of Argentina´s most famous political persona was really interesting. Despite Che´s main influence being in Cuba, Argentina is still very proud of the educated, charming, and inspiring revolutionary. I already knew a bit about Che´s personal life, from watching the dramatization film, ´The Motorcycle Diaries´, but did not know as much about his political life. It was fascinating for me, and I like to think that he was a kind spirited man as well as a revolutionary, who loved his family, and believed in freedom. Argentina does right to be proud.
So after finishing our week long course, I felt a lot more equipped to deal with travelling in Bolivia and Peru. Tash and I said goodbye to our German friends in Baluche, and got ready to get down and dirty in poorer and more "South American" Bolivia.
One last juicy steak, and we are ready for the next exciting country. We got our last luxurious bus with our beloved "Expresso Singer" bus company (on this occasion without the champagne and ´inflight´ movies) and headed up to the border...
Argentina, we´ll be back for more, as Buenos Aires is just too good, and the beautiful south of Patagonia needs to be explored. So for now...hasta luego amigo.
Friday, 13 May 2011
Songkran, Supersoakers, Full Moon and Diving...Thailand Round Two.
The last chapter of South East Asia has come upon us, and boy, did it go by in a flash! So much so, that I barely had time to collect my thoughts, and hence the tardiness of this post.
Bangkok Part II was a completely different experience from two months previously, and not just because of the difference in us. With my sister Ellie, and good friend Helen arriving, it was sure to be a party. However, I don´t think we could have ever been prepared for what was to come!
It was Thai New Year, or Songkran as it is locally known, and Bangkok was transformed. The backpacker mecca of Khaosan Road, with its wonderful shopping and spa treatments, was on a lockdown, and in its place was a constant flood of Thai people, armed up to the eyeballs with supersoakers, hoses, and buckets of clay. For tradition would have it that the Thai people take to the streets for a 3 day waterfight! Luckily for us, and you may read into my tone if you will, the festival started a day early. So it was four days of being completely drenched, in water warefare. And no one was safe, especially tourists.
Young and old took to the streets, where loud music boomed from 10am up to midnight, the Royal Family visited Khaosan Road for a presentation, but otherwise everyone was a guerrilla waterfighter. All of my best travel companions so far were reunited, and donned up with Supersoakers and scruffy clothes (which were going to be ruined). You got used to having handfuls of clay wiped in your face by every other Thai person who spotted your Western face. You got used to being attacked by your own side, slap right in the face. You got used to loud booming music throughout the day and into the night. You never got used to feeling that cold, wet and dirty!
It was warfare all day, and party all night. Even after 8pm you´d still risk being soaked if you stepped outside your hostel for a quick Pad Thai (how much I´d missed that treat!). Ellie and Helen were so overwhelmed by it all, but quickly jumped in with both hands securely round a supersoaker.
To top off the crazy experience, we had the, erm...´pleasure´ of an authentic Thai Ping Pong show. An well known tourist attraction of Bangkok, the seedy sex shows that you are a approached for, finally attracted our attention. Six of us girls, accompanied by two excited boys, piled into a tuk tuk and ventured off into the Bangkok underworld. It was an experience alright! We had front row seats for the 40 minute long show of dimly lit girls entering the arena and producing various objects from their...private areas. Even when you thought you could be shocked no more, you were shocked again. I´ll just leave it at that...for your own curiosity!
So after a hectic few days in Thailand´s capital, we covered ourselves in bin bags and walked through no mans land to the bus stop. Our backpacks merely acted as targets for more clay and water, but we survived it, and had the pleasure of a damp overnight bus to the islands to look forward to...
Koh Phangan: Thailand´s party island. Thousands of party goers flock to this island every month for the infamous Full Moon Party. For every backpacker in Thailand, you simply must attend a Full Moon Party on Koh Phangan´s Haadrin beach. Due to this fact, the island was something of a tourist trap. The prices dramatically increased from the rest of Thailand, and sadly the island offers little else other than its famous parties. After a long, hot, sunburnt ferry over to the island, we all found out how much of an expensive few days it was going to be.
For one thing, the island was a lot bigger than we anticipated, and we were all staying in different hotels. Around Full Moon, this time on the 19th of April, the hotels book up quickly, and so prices are also high. Our hostel, Blue Lotus Resort, was lovely. It was on the quieter part of the island, but about a 10 minute taxi ride from Haadrin, where the boys were staying. The taxis on the island have a little agreement going that every taxi ride, regardless of how far, is 100 baht per person. Rip off. This didn´t sit well with us, but luckily our host, Pong, was happy to offer discounted lifts to Haadrin for us, in the back of his pickup truck.
We soon discovered that these lifts were to become a highlight of the trip. The crazy windy roads up and over the mountains towards Haadrin were like white knuckle rides in the back of a pick up. It was great, but terrifying nonetheless.
Despite the obvious party to look forward to on the nineteenth, we ended up partying EVERY NIGHT. The nights leading up to Full Moon are also famous, especially with the pool parties at Coral Bungalows (where some of the boys were staying). Every night us girls would meet at ours, eat delicious Mexican food, and pile into Pong´s pick up, playing "Dude Looks Like A Lady!" at high volume and winding round the bends. Coral was insane too. We all piled into the pool, drinking buckets and partying hard in our bikinis. The nights blended into one really, but the biggest by far was Full Moon.
Full Moon also fell on the birthday of Nadine Spoor. So obviously there was even more reason to make it a night to remember! We piled into Haadrin town, to buy our neon outfits, UV paint and Nadine a crazy birthday hat. I ended up going for a tye-dye dress, pleasing my inner hippy, and after the daily power cut, we UV´d up together and headed to Haadrin. Our little UV flowers, heart, peace signs, or other private in jokes were plastered all over our bodies.We armed ourselves with sufficient buckets and headed off in one big group.
Now, like every touristy place in the world,the Full Moon Party does not come without its dangers. There have been instances of drink spiking, robbery, attacks and other things, so we were all on our guard. Yet, honestly, my night couldn´t have been any better!
The long stretch of the beach was full of neon bodies, dancing, drinking, stumbling, singing, partying all night long. We stayed together in our group and joined in, sipping buckets and dancing to our favourite tunes being pumped out by twenty different makeshift bars along the beach. I was drenched from a mini water fight, but couldn´t care less, singing Rihanna, doing Sinead´s drunk dance, partying with Superman and watching the sunrise, sitting in the sea. When the sun came up, I was overwhelmed by how much fun I´d had, not just that night but in the whole two months of Asia. I fully loved life, and was so happy with the great people I´d met.
We partied on until 9am, as the party refused to quieten down. Sure, people had gone home, but the beach was still alive and kicking until midday. Now even I couldn´t make it until then!
The rest of the day was a write off, and we had our last dinner before some very sad goodbyes. Its the hardest thing about travelling, the goodbyes. For Asia to finally be drawing to an end, and for us to have to say farewell to faces that we´d grown so familiar to, was a little sad. But what a way to say farewell! It was farewell Thailand for Helen and Nadine, but for Annabel, Sinead, Rachel, Ellie and me, we still had the recovery paradise of Koh Tao to look forward to.
Koh Tao, (Turtle Island) is the more tranquil, laid back island next to Koh Phangan. A diver´s paradise, with numerous dive schools offering some of the cheapest dive courses in the world. Diving was top on my list of things to do, despite my fear. We settled into Phoenix dive schools accomodation, which wasn´t the best, but we got a great deal for an introductory dive. Koh Tao is much smaller than Koh Phangan, and you can see why people fall in love with it. Unfortunately we were unable to visit other great islands like Koh Samui or the stunning Koh Phi Phi, but Koh Tao was a great ending for us.
Diving was awesome. We were thrown right in the deep end, excusing the pun, with our first experience of using the equipment, after a short tutorial, in the sea! At first I found it a little scary, and took a while getting used to the mask, and my breathing. I don´t really like the sensation of being unable to breath normally, and it was always going to be overwhelming. Yet after the first 5 minutes at the bottom of the sea, just 5 meters deep, I was ready to go. It was just Annabel, Sinead and me, along with one other girl and three instructors.
I saw Angel fish, sea urchines, an eel and my top favorite, a stingray! It was beautiful, and so peaceful, just slowly floating along at the bottom of the sea. We were down there for 40 minutes, which was a long time, and we made it to 10 meters deep on our first dive. My ears were popping, but I made it back in one piece and absolutely loved it! We were given the opportunity of another dive before heading back, so we took it! When was I next going to have the chance?
This time it was a little trickier. Instead of a gradual decline down deeper, we went straight down to 12 meters. It was tough, and we followed a long rope down to into the darker water. Again, it took a while for me to adjust to the pressure and the breathing, but after the initial five minutes of discomfort, I was off again and finding it even easier than before! This dive took us through more rock and coral formations, requiring a little more physical energy, but still not much! I can now see why divers are so laid back and chilled out. They hardly have to use any energy! Back up on the surface, I could see the appeal of doing a PADI course one day. I could seriously get used to this life! For today however, that was enough diving for me, and the rest of Koh Tao was sunbathing on stunning beaches and sipping cocktails on the beach.
We grabbed a massage because we fancied it, and it was good. Why hadn´t I had more Thai massages? They are great! We did a little shopping, and organised our fretful trip down to Singapore. I didn´t like how quickly it was coming about. We had one last big farewell night out with our beloved Irish girls, and Aussie Steve who had headed to Koh Tao for some recuperation after Phangan. Koh Tao was paradise for us; slow, peaceful, beautiful paradise. What a way to end South East Asia.
After a tearful goodbye, Annabel, Ellie and I headed for our 2 day journey to Singapore and to and even bigger goodbye. On the bus I thought to myself, ´where did it all go?´ but I looked at my journal entries, and I saw that I had done so much and met so many that I tried not to feel sad, but to look forward to the next big adventure.
It was an unpleasant journey through Malaysia, with being ripped off through the currency exchange, and a hot sweaty mini bus journey, but we made it to clean, modern Singapore in one piece. Saying goodbye to Annabel, my companion, my partner, my best friend for ten whole weeks, was not fun at all. How could we do it without each other?! How would we survive?! This is what we both felt, and poor Ellie didn´t know how to make it better!
Looking back now, I can see that it was just us being tired and sad. With every ending there is a beginning, and boy, could I not wait for South America! Saying goodbye to Bells was sad and scary, but with it, I get to spend the next 12 weeks with another great friend, in another great place. I´m also a different person already, I can feel it, and I am a lot more equipped to deal with a scarier place!
Thailand, Laos, Vietnam and Cambodia, you have been good to me and I will always have these great memories.
And finally, to all these places, and all you great people I have met along the way, I have just one last thing to say:
It´s never goodbye. It´s see you later...
Bangkok Part II was a completely different experience from two months previously, and not just because of the difference in us. With my sister Ellie, and good friend Helen arriving, it was sure to be a party. However, I don´t think we could have ever been prepared for what was to come!
It was Thai New Year, or Songkran as it is locally known, and Bangkok was transformed. The backpacker mecca of Khaosan Road, with its wonderful shopping and spa treatments, was on a lockdown, and in its place was a constant flood of Thai people, armed up to the eyeballs with supersoakers, hoses, and buckets of clay. For tradition would have it that the Thai people take to the streets for a 3 day waterfight! Luckily for us, and you may read into my tone if you will, the festival started a day early. So it was four days of being completely drenched, in water warefare. And no one was safe, especially tourists.
Young and old took to the streets, where loud music boomed from 10am up to midnight, the Royal Family visited Khaosan Road for a presentation, but otherwise everyone was a guerrilla waterfighter. All of my best travel companions so far were reunited, and donned up with Supersoakers and scruffy clothes (which were going to be ruined). You got used to having handfuls of clay wiped in your face by every other Thai person who spotted your Western face. You got used to being attacked by your own side, slap right in the face. You got used to loud booming music throughout the day and into the night. You never got used to feeling that cold, wet and dirty!
It was warfare all day, and party all night. Even after 8pm you´d still risk being soaked if you stepped outside your hostel for a quick Pad Thai (how much I´d missed that treat!). Ellie and Helen were so overwhelmed by it all, but quickly jumped in with both hands securely round a supersoaker.
To top off the crazy experience, we had the, erm...´pleasure´ of an authentic Thai Ping Pong show. An well known tourist attraction of Bangkok, the seedy sex shows that you are a approached for, finally attracted our attention. Six of us girls, accompanied by two excited boys, piled into a tuk tuk and ventured off into the Bangkok underworld. It was an experience alright! We had front row seats for the 40 minute long show of dimly lit girls entering the arena and producing various objects from their...private areas. Even when you thought you could be shocked no more, you were shocked again. I´ll just leave it at that...for your own curiosity!
So after a hectic few days in Thailand´s capital, we covered ourselves in bin bags and walked through no mans land to the bus stop. Our backpacks merely acted as targets for more clay and water, but we survived it, and had the pleasure of a damp overnight bus to the islands to look forward to...
Koh Phangan: Thailand´s party island. Thousands of party goers flock to this island every month for the infamous Full Moon Party. For every backpacker in Thailand, you simply must attend a Full Moon Party on Koh Phangan´s Haadrin beach. Due to this fact, the island was something of a tourist trap. The prices dramatically increased from the rest of Thailand, and sadly the island offers little else other than its famous parties. After a long, hot, sunburnt ferry over to the island, we all found out how much of an expensive few days it was going to be.
For one thing, the island was a lot bigger than we anticipated, and we were all staying in different hotels. Around Full Moon, this time on the 19th of April, the hotels book up quickly, and so prices are also high. Our hostel, Blue Lotus Resort, was lovely. It was on the quieter part of the island, but about a 10 minute taxi ride from Haadrin, where the boys were staying. The taxis on the island have a little agreement going that every taxi ride, regardless of how far, is 100 baht per person. Rip off. This didn´t sit well with us, but luckily our host, Pong, was happy to offer discounted lifts to Haadrin for us, in the back of his pickup truck.
We soon discovered that these lifts were to become a highlight of the trip. The crazy windy roads up and over the mountains towards Haadrin were like white knuckle rides in the back of a pick up. It was great, but terrifying nonetheless.
Despite the obvious party to look forward to on the nineteenth, we ended up partying EVERY NIGHT. The nights leading up to Full Moon are also famous, especially with the pool parties at Coral Bungalows (where some of the boys were staying). Every night us girls would meet at ours, eat delicious Mexican food, and pile into Pong´s pick up, playing "Dude Looks Like A Lady!" at high volume and winding round the bends. Coral was insane too. We all piled into the pool, drinking buckets and partying hard in our bikinis. The nights blended into one really, but the biggest by far was Full Moon.
Full Moon also fell on the birthday of Nadine Spoor. So obviously there was even more reason to make it a night to remember! We piled into Haadrin town, to buy our neon outfits, UV paint and Nadine a crazy birthday hat. I ended up going for a tye-dye dress, pleasing my inner hippy, and after the daily power cut, we UV´d up together and headed to Haadrin. Our little UV flowers, heart, peace signs, or other private in jokes were plastered all over our bodies.We armed ourselves with sufficient buckets and headed off in one big group.
Now, like every touristy place in the world,the Full Moon Party does not come without its dangers. There have been instances of drink spiking, robbery, attacks and other things, so we were all on our guard. Yet, honestly, my night couldn´t have been any better!
The long stretch of the beach was full of neon bodies, dancing, drinking, stumbling, singing, partying all night long. We stayed together in our group and joined in, sipping buckets and dancing to our favourite tunes being pumped out by twenty different makeshift bars along the beach. I was drenched from a mini water fight, but couldn´t care less, singing Rihanna, doing Sinead´s drunk dance, partying with Superman and watching the sunrise, sitting in the sea. When the sun came up, I was overwhelmed by how much fun I´d had, not just that night but in the whole two months of Asia. I fully loved life, and was so happy with the great people I´d met.
We partied on until 9am, as the party refused to quieten down. Sure, people had gone home, but the beach was still alive and kicking until midday. Now even I couldn´t make it until then!
The rest of the day was a write off, and we had our last dinner before some very sad goodbyes. Its the hardest thing about travelling, the goodbyes. For Asia to finally be drawing to an end, and for us to have to say farewell to faces that we´d grown so familiar to, was a little sad. But what a way to say farewell! It was farewell Thailand for Helen and Nadine, but for Annabel, Sinead, Rachel, Ellie and me, we still had the recovery paradise of Koh Tao to look forward to.
Koh Tao, (Turtle Island) is the more tranquil, laid back island next to Koh Phangan. A diver´s paradise, with numerous dive schools offering some of the cheapest dive courses in the world. Diving was top on my list of things to do, despite my fear. We settled into Phoenix dive schools accomodation, which wasn´t the best, but we got a great deal for an introductory dive. Koh Tao is much smaller than Koh Phangan, and you can see why people fall in love with it. Unfortunately we were unable to visit other great islands like Koh Samui or the stunning Koh Phi Phi, but Koh Tao was a great ending for us.
Diving was awesome. We were thrown right in the deep end, excusing the pun, with our first experience of using the equipment, after a short tutorial, in the sea! At first I found it a little scary, and took a while getting used to the mask, and my breathing. I don´t really like the sensation of being unable to breath normally, and it was always going to be overwhelming. Yet after the first 5 minutes at the bottom of the sea, just 5 meters deep, I was ready to go. It was just Annabel, Sinead and me, along with one other girl and three instructors.
I saw Angel fish, sea urchines, an eel and my top favorite, a stingray! It was beautiful, and so peaceful, just slowly floating along at the bottom of the sea. We were down there for 40 minutes, which was a long time, and we made it to 10 meters deep on our first dive. My ears were popping, but I made it back in one piece and absolutely loved it! We were given the opportunity of another dive before heading back, so we took it! When was I next going to have the chance?
This time it was a little trickier. Instead of a gradual decline down deeper, we went straight down to 12 meters. It was tough, and we followed a long rope down to into the darker water. Again, it took a while for me to adjust to the pressure and the breathing, but after the initial five minutes of discomfort, I was off again and finding it even easier than before! This dive took us through more rock and coral formations, requiring a little more physical energy, but still not much! I can now see why divers are so laid back and chilled out. They hardly have to use any energy! Back up on the surface, I could see the appeal of doing a PADI course one day. I could seriously get used to this life! For today however, that was enough diving for me, and the rest of Koh Tao was sunbathing on stunning beaches and sipping cocktails on the beach.
We grabbed a massage because we fancied it, and it was good. Why hadn´t I had more Thai massages? They are great! We did a little shopping, and organised our fretful trip down to Singapore. I didn´t like how quickly it was coming about. We had one last big farewell night out with our beloved Irish girls, and Aussie Steve who had headed to Koh Tao for some recuperation after Phangan. Koh Tao was paradise for us; slow, peaceful, beautiful paradise. What a way to end South East Asia.
After a tearful goodbye, Annabel, Ellie and I headed for our 2 day journey to Singapore and to and even bigger goodbye. On the bus I thought to myself, ´where did it all go?´ but I looked at my journal entries, and I saw that I had done so much and met so many that I tried not to feel sad, but to look forward to the next big adventure.
It was an unpleasant journey through Malaysia, with being ripped off through the currency exchange, and a hot sweaty mini bus journey, but we made it to clean, modern Singapore in one piece. Saying goodbye to Annabel, my companion, my partner, my best friend for ten whole weeks, was not fun at all. How could we do it without each other?! How would we survive?! This is what we both felt, and poor Ellie didn´t know how to make it better!
Looking back now, I can see that it was just us being tired and sad. With every ending there is a beginning, and boy, could I not wait for South America! Saying goodbye to Bells was sad and scary, but with it, I get to spend the next 12 weeks with another great friend, in another great place. I´m also a different person already, I can feel it, and I am a lot more equipped to deal with a scarier place!
Thailand, Laos, Vietnam and Cambodia, you have been good to me and I will always have these great memories.
And finally, to all these places, and all you great people I have met along the way, I have just one last thing to say:
It´s never goodbye. It´s see you later...
Tuesday, 10 May 2011
Running AMOK in Cambodia...
Cambodia, a beautiful country of rich tropical scenery, some of the friendliest people you could meet and home to the the worlds most famous temple, Angkor Wat. Yet Cambodia is a poor country, still haunted by its recent political turmoil, where its own people were tortured under Pol Pots´ vicious rule. I will not pretend to have known much about Cambodian political history before, or even that much about the Khmer Rouge regime, but I was instantly intrigued by this country´s past.
We started off in the country´s capital, Phnom Penh. A bustling city and at times a little crazy. Tuk-tuks buzzing round street corners, scooters with livestock in the passenger seat, and street vendors every 50 meters selling non-descript meat goods; a familiar sight! Not the prettiest or cleanest city, but Phnom Penh has a thriving nightlife. We explored it in one crazy night, after drinking with new friends on a street corner and fending off the poor begging children, who we couldn´t help but be charmed by. The boys couldn´t handle the poor sweet faces of the skinny little girls, and bought them Coca Cola and crisps. They meant well, but it was a mistake, as they kept coming back for more! It made for a good laugh at the time, but you couldn´t help but feel sorry for these children, scrounging for food at midnight. Its just a signifier of how poor Cambodia is.
The next day, we dragged ourselves out of our pits, to become educated. It was tough with our hangover, but we were determined to learn about Cambodia´s recent turmoil, so that we could appreciate the country in context. Our first stop was S-21: the political prison for thousands of Cambodians. Here you can walk around the eerie, empty, bloodstained stone cells where the prisoners were tortured and starved, whilst under questioning. The blood splatters on the walls, and the stale smell that lingered around the wall made me feel cold and empty inside. A hallway full of mugshots of the blank faces of the victims sent shivers down my spine. The place reaked of death and suffering, and I couldn´t wait to get out.
It shocked me to discover that Pol Pot and the other Khmer Rouge leaders were only recently taken to trial. This happened in my lifetime, and I was completely ignorant, a thousand miles away.
Next on our educational, but emotionally draining tour, were the Killing Fields at Choeung Ek. The eerily quiet and empty compound, just 7 km out of the city, was not so long ago, home to some of the worst human atrocities commited in the last 50 years. The compound laid out around the memorial stupa, towering high and stocked full of skulls of the thousands of Cambodians, killed under the Khmer Rouge Regime. Thousands of Cambodian people, including women, children and babies, were killed here and buried in mass graves between 1975 and 1979. Only ten years before I was born. Walking around the bunkers, with tiny pieces of fabric still visible in the ground from victims´clothing, was what I can only describe as harrowing. So much death, and so much injustice in such an ironically peaceful location.
It was fair to say that we were emotionally exhausted after that day of education. It became clear how much Cambodia has been through, and explained the poverty that the people still struggle with.Yet, we soon found that, especially on our next two stops, Cambodia does not let its painful past ruin the great things that it should be proud of: its beautiful country and its beautiful people.
At a polar opposite of our experience in Phnom Penh, we were blessed with 9 beautiful days in Cambodia´s beach bum paradise: Sihanoukville.
Sihanoukville, in my opinion, cannot be likened to any other beach town I´ve ever been to. Partly, because Serendipity beach is the backpacker beach...with lines of bars and restaurants on the beach where people bask in the baking sun druing the day, and which convert into an array of bars and clubs at night. The body clock of Sihanoukville is pushed back a good few hours, and the pace of life slows down by at least half.
Bells and I were lucky to meet a wonderful Aussie to share this lazy beach paradise with: Miss Nadine Spoor. Having just arrived in Cambodia for a couple of weeks, on the way to London, Nads was looking for the same thing as us: laid back, spoiling ourselves fun.
Well we sure got it! Having only planned to spend four or five days there, we left an impressive ten days later. We were in a Sihanoukville coma. We came out of it refreshed, tanned, and craving to take in some culture once again! The days really blended into one good time, but here´s a quick summary:
By day we´d have breakfast at our favourite baguette shop (you don´t know how hard it is to get a decent egg mayonnaise sandwich out here!) and hit the beach. We´d be pestered constantly by children and women pestering you constantly to buy bracelets, fruit, a pedicure, manicure, massage or anything else that they think you look like you need! It could get quite insulting, when women would stroke your legs and insist that you need to have them threaded. LEAVE ME ALONE! I WANT TO BE HAIRY AND DIRTY!
The kids that we met were great too. At first we were irritated by them harrassing us all the time, and some could be quite rude, but we made a group of friends with bright young girls who sold mugs like us little plaited bracelets, to afford their evening English schooling. We came out of Sihanoukville with our wrists covered in the little bracelets, but they make us look "well travelled" I guess.
If the weather was poor, or we were too sunburnt, there were the sofa-cinemas, or even scooters to rent! Surprisingly, my first experience of riding a scooter was a success! Apparently I´m the Sebastian Vettel of scooters, zipping down the road away from the other two, wind in my hair and grin on my face. Not even being pulled over by the Cambodian police could spoil my fun. Brilliant. Plus Bells got a flat tyre, to truly add to the authentic experience!
By night, Sihanoukville came alive along the beach. All of the beach bars would open up for BBQs and drinks deals. The two main competetors for the nightlife, Dolphin Shack and JJ´s, had their backpacker reps out in force, flyering all day, and luring drinkers in for free shots and Happy Hour. We´d either drink on the beach, watching fire poi, or dance on the tables and poles to Rihanna and Far East Movement. We had a good group of people with us; the Canadians from Halong Bay resurfaced, as well as the English lot from Phnom Penh. No wonder we got stuck in the bubble so easily.
We loved Sihanoukville, and had some great times, but eventually it was time to break away and get on the move again. The next stop was Siem Reap, for our Angkor Wat experience.
Siem Reap was a great little city. Small as cities go, but compact full with a good market, and its famous drinking haven: Pub Street. The main reason for visits to Siem Reap, however, is Angkor Wat, and I was so excited!
Angkor Wat is the name given to a temple complex spread out over a large area, built in the early 12th century for King Suryavarman II. Angkor Wat is the name of the main walled temple that is most famous, but the tour takes you around Angkor Thom which is much bigger. Many say that Angkor Thom cannot be fully appreciated in less than 3 days, but we lacked the time and money to follow this advice. We paid a tuk tuk driver to take us to see the sunset on the first night, and then had the whole of the next day to explore the many ancient and ruined temples. We weren´t disappointed!
We woke up at 5am to be driven to the temple, for the sunrise over the famous 4 towers. There were crowds of tourists waiting for the perfect Kodak moment, of which we were maybe the little less enthusiastic, due to the early morning start. Yet when the sun peeked out from behind the towers, and the sky went peach, I was hooked. My finger clicked non stop until the sun was in the sky, when we went into the temple itself and wandered around the ancient stone arches. The first thing that struck me, and continued to throughout the complex, was the detail of the carvings in the stone. Carvings of Buddha, Devatas (deities) and faces, more than eight centuries old, still cover the temple structures.
We spent the best part of the day driving round, and stopping at the main sites. The huge stone faces of Bayon Temple and Ta Phrom (annoyingly made more famous by Angelina Jolie in Tomb Raider) were my highlights. I especially loved Ta Phrom, as one of the few temples that have been left as it was found. The old ruined stone temple, was in my opinion, the most photogenic of the temples, with the huge white tree roots growing out and over the stone ruins. It was another moment when I felt so small, compared to the immensity of the trees, and the age of the temples. I loved it. I will also admit to running around, climbing the stones, pretending to be Lara Croft, even if I am against that sort of tourist attraction!
It was a long day, full of climbing, and wandering around in awe. I'll forever have fond memories of Bells, Nads and me chanting "Angkor WHATTT?!?!", whilst walking up the path to the entrance of the temple, just as the sun was rising. Classy, maybe not, but memorable.
I could maybe have done another day exploring further afield, but we were exhausted afterwards. It was one of the most impressive man-made wonders I have seen, on par with the Mayan temples. So top that with some authentic Cambodian street food, and some nights out on Pub Street...Siem Reap was also a big hit!
It is fair to say after that rushed summary, that Cambodia has been a highlight. In fact, it is probably my favourite country so far. I felt safe, happy, relaxed, excited, educated, in awe, hungover, and completely free to explore in a beautiful and complex country. Maybe I didn´t expect so much from it, or maybe I was just unaware of it, but Cambodia deserves more fame, and I hope that it thrives.
We started off in the country´s capital, Phnom Penh. A bustling city and at times a little crazy. Tuk-tuks buzzing round street corners, scooters with livestock in the passenger seat, and street vendors every 50 meters selling non-descript meat goods; a familiar sight! Not the prettiest or cleanest city, but Phnom Penh has a thriving nightlife. We explored it in one crazy night, after drinking with new friends on a street corner and fending off the poor begging children, who we couldn´t help but be charmed by. The boys couldn´t handle the poor sweet faces of the skinny little girls, and bought them Coca Cola and crisps. They meant well, but it was a mistake, as they kept coming back for more! It made for a good laugh at the time, but you couldn´t help but feel sorry for these children, scrounging for food at midnight. Its just a signifier of how poor Cambodia is.
The next day, we dragged ourselves out of our pits, to become educated. It was tough with our hangover, but we were determined to learn about Cambodia´s recent turmoil, so that we could appreciate the country in context. Our first stop was S-21: the political prison for thousands of Cambodians. Here you can walk around the eerie, empty, bloodstained stone cells where the prisoners were tortured and starved, whilst under questioning. The blood splatters on the walls, and the stale smell that lingered around the wall made me feel cold and empty inside. A hallway full of mugshots of the blank faces of the victims sent shivers down my spine. The place reaked of death and suffering, and I couldn´t wait to get out.
It shocked me to discover that Pol Pot and the other Khmer Rouge leaders were only recently taken to trial. This happened in my lifetime, and I was completely ignorant, a thousand miles away.
Next on our educational, but emotionally draining tour, were the Killing Fields at Choeung Ek. The eerily quiet and empty compound, just 7 km out of the city, was not so long ago, home to some of the worst human atrocities commited in the last 50 years. The compound laid out around the memorial stupa, towering high and stocked full of skulls of the thousands of Cambodians, killed under the Khmer Rouge Regime. Thousands of Cambodian people, including women, children and babies, were killed here and buried in mass graves between 1975 and 1979. Only ten years before I was born. Walking around the bunkers, with tiny pieces of fabric still visible in the ground from victims´clothing, was what I can only describe as harrowing. So much death, and so much injustice in such an ironically peaceful location.
It was fair to say that we were emotionally exhausted after that day of education. It became clear how much Cambodia has been through, and explained the poverty that the people still struggle with.Yet, we soon found that, especially on our next two stops, Cambodia does not let its painful past ruin the great things that it should be proud of: its beautiful country and its beautiful people.
At a polar opposite of our experience in Phnom Penh, we were blessed with 9 beautiful days in Cambodia´s beach bum paradise: Sihanoukville.
Sihanoukville, in my opinion, cannot be likened to any other beach town I´ve ever been to. Partly, because Serendipity beach is the backpacker beach...with lines of bars and restaurants on the beach where people bask in the baking sun druing the day, and which convert into an array of bars and clubs at night. The body clock of Sihanoukville is pushed back a good few hours, and the pace of life slows down by at least half.
Bells and I were lucky to meet a wonderful Aussie to share this lazy beach paradise with: Miss Nadine Spoor. Having just arrived in Cambodia for a couple of weeks, on the way to London, Nads was looking for the same thing as us: laid back, spoiling ourselves fun.
Well we sure got it! Having only planned to spend four or five days there, we left an impressive ten days later. We were in a Sihanoukville coma. We came out of it refreshed, tanned, and craving to take in some culture once again! The days really blended into one good time, but here´s a quick summary:
By day we´d have breakfast at our favourite baguette shop (you don´t know how hard it is to get a decent egg mayonnaise sandwich out here!) and hit the beach. We´d be pestered constantly by children and women pestering you constantly to buy bracelets, fruit, a pedicure, manicure, massage or anything else that they think you look like you need! It could get quite insulting, when women would stroke your legs and insist that you need to have them threaded. LEAVE ME ALONE! I WANT TO BE HAIRY AND DIRTY!
The kids that we met were great too. At first we were irritated by them harrassing us all the time, and some could be quite rude, but we made a group of friends with bright young girls who sold mugs like us little plaited bracelets, to afford their evening English schooling. We came out of Sihanoukville with our wrists covered in the little bracelets, but they make us look "well travelled" I guess.
If the weather was poor, or we were too sunburnt, there were the sofa-cinemas, or even scooters to rent! Surprisingly, my first experience of riding a scooter was a success! Apparently I´m the Sebastian Vettel of scooters, zipping down the road away from the other two, wind in my hair and grin on my face. Not even being pulled over by the Cambodian police could spoil my fun. Brilliant. Plus Bells got a flat tyre, to truly add to the authentic experience!
By night, Sihanoukville came alive along the beach. All of the beach bars would open up for BBQs and drinks deals. The two main competetors for the nightlife, Dolphin Shack and JJ´s, had their backpacker reps out in force, flyering all day, and luring drinkers in for free shots and Happy Hour. We´d either drink on the beach, watching fire poi, or dance on the tables and poles to Rihanna and Far East Movement. We had a good group of people with us; the Canadians from Halong Bay resurfaced, as well as the English lot from Phnom Penh. No wonder we got stuck in the bubble so easily.
We loved Sihanoukville, and had some great times, but eventually it was time to break away and get on the move again. The next stop was Siem Reap, for our Angkor Wat experience.
Siem Reap was a great little city. Small as cities go, but compact full with a good market, and its famous drinking haven: Pub Street. The main reason for visits to Siem Reap, however, is Angkor Wat, and I was so excited!
Angkor Wat is the name given to a temple complex spread out over a large area, built in the early 12th century for King Suryavarman II. Angkor Wat is the name of the main walled temple that is most famous, but the tour takes you around Angkor Thom which is much bigger. Many say that Angkor Thom cannot be fully appreciated in less than 3 days, but we lacked the time and money to follow this advice. We paid a tuk tuk driver to take us to see the sunset on the first night, and then had the whole of the next day to explore the many ancient and ruined temples. We weren´t disappointed!
We woke up at 5am to be driven to the temple, for the sunrise over the famous 4 towers. There were crowds of tourists waiting for the perfect Kodak moment, of which we were maybe the little less enthusiastic, due to the early morning start. Yet when the sun peeked out from behind the towers, and the sky went peach, I was hooked. My finger clicked non stop until the sun was in the sky, when we went into the temple itself and wandered around the ancient stone arches. The first thing that struck me, and continued to throughout the complex, was the detail of the carvings in the stone. Carvings of Buddha, Devatas (deities) and faces, more than eight centuries old, still cover the temple structures.
We spent the best part of the day driving round, and stopping at the main sites. The huge stone faces of Bayon Temple and Ta Phrom (annoyingly made more famous by Angelina Jolie in Tomb Raider) were my highlights. I especially loved Ta Phrom, as one of the few temples that have been left as it was found. The old ruined stone temple, was in my opinion, the most photogenic of the temples, with the huge white tree roots growing out and over the stone ruins. It was another moment when I felt so small, compared to the immensity of the trees, and the age of the temples. I loved it. I will also admit to running around, climbing the stones, pretending to be Lara Croft, even if I am against that sort of tourist attraction!
It was a long day, full of climbing, and wandering around in awe. I'll forever have fond memories of Bells, Nads and me chanting "Angkor WHATTT?!?!", whilst walking up the path to the entrance of the temple, just as the sun was rising. Classy, maybe not, but memorable.
I could maybe have done another day exploring further afield, but we were exhausted afterwards. It was one of the most impressive man-made wonders I have seen, on par with the Mayan temples. So top that with some authentic Cambodian street food, and some nights out on Pub Street...Siem Reap was also a big hit!
It is fair to say after that rushed summary, that Cambodia has been a highlight. In fact, it is probably my favourite country so far. I felt safe, happy, relaxed, excited, educated, in awe, hungover, and completely free to explore in a beautiful and complex country. Maybe I didn´t expect so much from it, or maybe I was just unaware of it, but Cambodia deserves more fame, and I hope that it thrives.
Thursday, 31 March 2011
Sun, Sea, Sand and Saigon- the last of Vietnam...
It's been some time since my last blog post, and take that as a sign of how hectic the tail end of Vietnam was! We left Hoi An to chase the sun, as it seemed that South East Asia had not entirely escaped the weather chaos that has been going on in Japan and the Pacific. Vietnam has been unnaturally rainy for this time of year; Hanoi and the north is meant to be cold, but down the South coast, we had high hopes of the sun finally kissing us.
Our next stop on our open bus tickets was Nha Trang; a rapidly expanding beach town, with a thriving tourist industry. But along with its thriving tourism of island tours, crazy nightlife and good food, comes the dangers. We instantly heard stories from other backpackers, about muggings and pickpocketing at night-time, especially on the beach. Given my previous bad experience in Hanoi, we had our guards up and fanny packs out! The main thing to remember is not to take anything that you don't need out, and NEVER walk home alone at night, boy or girl.
So with our alerts on, we headed to the beach for our first day of proper sunbathing since we left home! Nha Trang beach was bustling, with tourists and street sellers. It was so annoying: "Lady you want bracelet? Buy some fruit? Another beer for you?" ... NOOOOO!!! GET OUT OF OUR SUN!!!! When it got too much, we wanted to cool off in the sea, but the waves were epic. Grown men (but mainly boys) were knocked off their feet by the waves hitting the shore. The Canadian boys loved it! They turned into adrenaline junkies...or even pain junkies: they couldn't get enough. Us girls stayed well away!
As for our tans? Pfft, if only burnt skin was in fashion. We're not sure whether our malaria tablets made it worse, but our burn was tragic. I'd even been putting factor 50 on every 20 minutes. My pale skin took a beating and the sweats began...
We were lucky to meet with our lovely Irish friends for dinner and hitting the town. Food was considerably more expensive here, but the drinks deals were flowing along the main street towards the beach club. Dolled up Vietnamese girls would drag Westerners into their bars for the free beer or cocktail during Happy Hour and the music poured out onto the streets. Oasis Bar, Why Not? Bar, and the Sailing Club were the main stops of each night out, and our first night fell on the Full Moon.
After hours of sweaty, non-stop dancing at Sailing Club's Full Moon Beach Party, I stumbled home with Rachel and Sinead, craving a sandwich, but spotting faults with EVERY street stall: suspect meat or crawling ants! We made it home safe and happy.
Sadly, the same couldn't be said for Sean. He'd walked home by himself, only being a few blocks away and had been approached by a prostitute offering her services. He declined, but she backed him into a corner, and before he knew it, her two male friends had jumped him, knocking him to the floor and holding a gun to his stomach. He threw them his remaining cash, which they scrambled on the floor for, and then ran. Obviously he was shaken up, making it home in one piece, but it scared us all. My view of Nha Trang had been tainted. One bad experience can ruin a whole opinion, and it really is a shame.
We still ended up going out 3 of the nights, but always being careful and walking home in groups. Vinpearl Island: Nha Trang's huge water theme park resort, was top of our list for day trips. It was awesome! We took a cable car from the mainland for 30mins out over the sea towards the huge, white, Hollywood-style 'VINPEARL' sign erected on the lush green island. Once there, we were confronted by rollercoasters, arcades, and a great selection of waterslides which kept us busy for about 8 hours! We ran around like little children, playing on the arcade games, watching 4D films, and spinning on the teacups. It was brilliant! We didn't get to go on all the slides, as they had some strange traffic light system going, where only half the rides were open at one time, but we were all slid out by the end.
It was the end of Nha Trang for us, and we headed off to Mui Ne (the quieter beach option) for a bit of sun lounging and treating ourselves. It was a lot quieter, and almost too quiet compared to Nha Trang! A tiny beach town, spread along 10 km of white sands, famous for watersports and the nearby picture perfect sand-dunes.
We embraced the laid back atmosphere and chilled by the beach with some new buddies we met on the bus. After an early night of a couple of Tiger beers on the beach, we set off for our sand dune adventure! Typically, the weather was a disappointment again. it wasn't raining, but it was windy and i mean gale force windy, especially on the dunes!
Before the dunes we stopped off at a smelly but picturesque fishing village, and the fairy streams. Annabel paid to ride an Ostrich, but my conscience kicked in when I saw the small pen and the lack of feathers on the bird's wings. I know I rode an elephant in Chiang Mai, so maybe its double standards, but I just wouldn't enjoy it! Give me one in the wild, running through the dunes...and I'll be game!
The dunes were awesome! It was still cloudy, and we didn't get our Kodak Sunset as promised, but it was still an experience. It was too painful for my liking though, as the wind caused the sand to whip us in the face and body, constantly. There was sand in my ears, my eyes, my mouth and nose. It was like taking a physical beating from the sand! We even went sand boarding down the dunes, me head first, and got sand all the way down my front. But...it was worth it! After many cliched 'jump' photos in front of our cloudy sunset...we headed home and crashed, ready and rested for Saigon.
Saigon, where do I start? Well, I won't bore you with too much history, as there is so much to tell. The important thing to know, is that after the communists beat Southern Vietnam during the war, Saigon was renamed Ho Chi Minh City, after you know who! Bar the few remaining French named roads (after famous Frenchmen like Louis Pasteur) all the roads were renamed also. HCMC underwent huge renovations under the communist rule, and is often described as a city of great contrasts due to its spectrum of communist ideology and thriving capitalist culture.
We were both instantly impressed with the city. It could be likened to Hanoi, but it was cleaner and less packed. The street were quite wide, and whilst the traffic was still typically Vietnamese (ie. mental) it was easier to deal with than up in the capital. What was also quite good for us, was that there was a main backpacker area with all the hostels and cheap restaurants! We stayed on Bui Vien at Thaun Anh Guest House, where we were loved by the Vietnamese women running it. This was partly because they thought we were beautiful, but mainly because they thought we were hilarious due to a cockroach incident...
Annabel and I were getting ready for an early bedtime, and getting undressed (it was so hot in our room that we were sleeping topless), when I look on the floor and see a HUGE cockroach. "BAAAAAAAAAAAH!" I screamed, as there is one thing that really grosses me out, and that is cockroaches. Spiders can be creepy, wasps I just avoid, but cockroaches are the scum of the earth! There was no way I could sleep knowing that a cockroach was there. For one thing, they fly! Nope, I was getting help. So I ran down stairs (clothed obviously), all red in the face and attempted to explain my predicament to the two women. It turns out that the Vietnamese don't understand the word 'cockroach', so in my panic I did the most ridiculous impression of a cockroach that I could think of, putting my hands together and wiggling my fingers franticly through the air. The women just stared at me in amusement. Eventually one of them got it, and followed me upstairs with a can of pesticide. Despite spraying the bugger, and leaving us in peace, the lady did not kill our unwanted roomate. I'd finally calmed down when it only flew out from behind a bed and landed on my pillow! I flipped again, and after Annabel's futile attempts and killing it by throwing a flip flop, went back down to get our lady. This time, it took two of them. One of them used a bag to pick it up in one swoop from my pillow, while the other laughed and looked under beds. "Not your friend?!" they laughed as we both cowered in the corner of our beds. They said we were ok, but after they left, I wasn't so sure...
Of course there was another! Scuttling out from my bag. I screamed again (and yes, by this time, even I thought I was being pathetic) and the women actually heard me from downstairs and came to our aid. They pounced on the creature with their bare hands, and found another before leaving. "We are moving rooms!" I said...and luckily, the next day, we did. Still, we were pretty famous at the hotel, and despite the minor infestation, we still loved the place.
We got our bearings and explored the city, hitting the market first of course. I finally got the hang of bartering and got myself some jewellry and some 'Weasel' coffee (made through a weasel, if you get my drift). It's an easy city to get around, and within a day we'd walked along our own little tour, including the main sights of the Reunification Palace and the famous War Remnants Museum.
This was the main place of intrigue for me. We'd met the Irish girls again the night before, and heard just how emotional the photographs and information in this museum was, that it moved some people to tears. Being a history geek, I was still itching to get there. Outside the building, were American tanks and fighter planes, and an outdoor replica of the horrific tiger cages (prisons of torture). Inside the museum, were the main exhibitions depicting the untold horrors and casualties of the war. 'Requiem' by Vietnam photojournalist Tim Page, showed a collection of war photographs taken by international journalists, wanting to portray the lesser seen footage of the war.
The scenes depicted were heartbreaking. Photographs of women, children and babies, piled up dead on the ground almost brought me to tears. Snapshots of devastated villages torn apart by flaming bombs, and peasant civilians kneeling on the ground, pleading with soldiers, moments before being shot. There was a whole exhibition dedicated to highlighting the dangers of Agent Orange (chemical bombs including Dioxin) showing the long-term effects on the Vietnamese people. Children today are still being born with disabilities due to their grand parents being subjected to the gases. This was what was so unique about the museum: it didn't glorify the weapons, planes, or soldiers but showed the real tragedy of war, pain and death.
It was an exhausting experience, but well worth it. The next day we had the Cu Chi tunnels, where we played out the roles of the Viet Cong and explored the vast underground network of tunnels, built as a stronghold against the American troops. Full of bamboo boobie traps, and hidden passages, these tunnels were home to the local Viet Cong soldiers, who could navigate their way around and trick the opposition. We climbed through the 200m long tunnel underground, sweating in the heat, but ploughing on through the claustrophobia (the tunnels had even been made bigger for tourists so I dread to think how much smaller they were!). As a touristy gimic, we treated ourselves to 5 bullets each in an AK47 at the shooting range! We were AWESOME! It was a very cool day, and we feel a lot more educated now!
Obviously there was still drinking. Saigon's nightlife was a little too expensive though. We had a couple of good ones in the backpacker area, and explored one of the weird Vietnamese nightclubs, but it wasn't a patch on Nha Trang or Hanoi.
Anyway, thats a wrap for Vietnam! It's been eventful and jam packed for sure, but it still wasn't what we expected. For a country that has had so much war and political turmoil, Vietnam is becoming a lot more touristy. Good for Vietnam I guess, but we thought we'd see a lot more local villages and get down and dirty. Still, it's the backpacker trail, and it's been a hell of a lot of fun. So now all that has to be said is...GOOD EVENING VIETNAM!!!!
Our next stop on our open bus tickets was Nha Trang; a rapidly expanding beach town, with a thriving tourist industry. But along with its thriving tourism of island tours, crazy nightlife and good food, comes the dangers. We instantly heard stories from other backpackers, about muggings and pickpocketing at night-time, especially on the beach. Given my previous bad experience in Hanoi, we had our guards up and fanny packs out! The main thing to remember is not to take anything that you don't need out, and NEVER walk home alone at night, boy or girl.
So with our alerts on, we headed to the beach for our first day of proper sunbathing since we left home! Nha Trang beach was bustling, with tourists and street sellers. It was so annoying: "Lady you want bracelet? Buy some fruit? Another beer for you?" ... NOOOOO!!! GET OUT OF OUR SUN!!!! When it got too much, we wanted to cool off in the sea, but the waves were epic. Grown men (but mainly boys) were knocked off their feet by the waves hitting the shore. The Canadian boys loved it! They turned into adrenaline junkies...or even pain junkies: they couldn't get enough. Us girls stayed well away!
As for our tans? Pfft, if only burnt skin was in fashion. We're not sure whether our malaria tablets made it worse, but our burn was tragic. I'd even been putting factor 50 on every 20 minutes. My pale skin took a beating and the sweats began...
We were lucky to meet with our lovely Irish friends for dinner and hitting the town. Food was considerably more expensive here, but the drinks deals were flowing along the main street towards the beach club. Dolled up Vietnamese girls would drag Westerners into their bars for the free beer or cocktail during Happy Hour and the music poured out onto the streets. Oasis Bar, Why Not? Bar, and the Sailing Club were the main stops of each night out, and our first night fell on the Full Moon.
After hours of sweaty, non-stop dancing at Sailing Club's Full Moon Beach Party, I stumbled home with Rachel and Sinead, craving a sandwich, but spotting faults with EVERY street stall: suspect meat or crawling ants! We made it home safe and happy.
Sadly, the same couldn't be said for Sean. He'd walked home by himself, only being a few blocks away and had been approached by a prostitute offering her services. He declined, but she backed him into a corner, and before he knew it, her two male friends had jumped him, knocking him to the floor and holding a gun to his stomach. He threw them his remaining cash, which they scrambled on the floor for, and then ran. Obviously he was shaken up, making it home in one piece, but it scared us all. My view of Nha Trang had been tainted. One bad experience can ruin a whole opinion, and it really is a shame.
We still ended up going out 3 of the nights, but always being careful and walking home in groups. Vinpearl Island: Nha Trang's huge water theme park resort, was top of our list for day trips. It was awesome! We took a cable car from the mainland for 30mins out over the sea towards the huge, white, Hollywood-style 'VINPEARL' sign erected on the lush green island. Once there, we were confronted by rollercoasters, arcades, and a great selection of waterslides which kept us busy for about 8 hours! We ran around like little children, playing on the arcade games, watching 4D films, and spinning on the teacups. It was brilliant! We didn't get to go on all the slides, as they had some strange traffic light system going, where only half the rides were open at one time, but we were all slid out by the end.
It was the end of Nha Trang for us, and we headed off to Mui Ne (the quieter beach option) for a bit of sun lounging and treating ourselves. It was a lot quieter, and almost too quiet compared to Nha Trang! A tiny beach town, spread along 10 km of white sands, famous for watersports and the nearby picture perfect sand-dunes.
We embraced the laid back atmosphere and chilled by the beach with some new buddies we met on the bus. After an early night of a couple of Tiger beers on the beach, we set off for our sand dune adventure! Typically, the weather was a disappointment again. it wasn't raining, but it was windy and i mean gale force windy, especially on the dunes!
Before the dunes we stopped off at a smelly but picturesque fishing village, and the fairy streams. Annabel paid to ride an Ostrich, but my conscience kicked in when I saw the small pen and the lack of feathers on the bird's wings. I know I rode an elephant in Chiang Mai, so maybe its double standards, but I just wouldn't enjoy it! Give me one in the wild, running through the dunes...and I'll be game!
The dunes were awesome! It was still cloudy, and we didn't get our Kodak Sunset as promised, but it was still an experience. It was too painful for my liking though, as the wind caused the sand to whip us in the face and body, constantly. There was sand in my ears, my eyes, my mouth and nose. It was like taking a physical beating from the sand! We even went sand boarding down the dunes, me head first, and got sand all the way down my front. But...it was worth it! After many cliched 'jump' photos in front of our cloudy sunset...we headed home and crashed, ready and rested for Saigon.
Saigon, where do I start? Well, I won't bore you with too much history, as there is so much to tell. The important thing to know, is that after the communists beat Southern Vietnam during the war, Saigon was renamed Ho Chi Minh City, after you know who! Bar the few remaining French named roads (after famous Frenchmen like Louis Pasteur) all the roads were renamed also. HCMC underwent huge renovations under the communist rule, and is often described as a city of great contrasts due to its spectrum of communist ideology and thriving capitalist culture.
We were both instantly impressed with the city. It could be likened to Hanoi, but it was cleaner and less packed. The street were quite wide, and whilst the traffic was still typically Vietnamese (ie. mental) it was easier to deal with than up in the capital. What was also quite good for us, was that there was a main backpacker area with all the hostels and cheap restaurants! We stayed on Bui Vien at Thaun Anh Guest House, where we were loved by the Vietnamese women running it. This was partly because they thought we were beautiful, but mainly because they thought we were hilarious due to a cockroach incident...
Annabel and I were getting ready for an early bedtime, and getting undressed (it was so hot in our room that we were sleeping topless), when I look on the floor and see a HUGE cockroach. "BAAAAAAAAAAAH!" I screamed, as there is one thing that really grosses me out, and that is cockroaches. Spiders can be creepy, wasps I just avoid, but cockroaches are the scum of the earth! There was no way I could sleep knowing that a cockroach was there. For one thing, they fly! Nope, I was getting help. So I ran down stairs (clothed obviously), all red in the face and attempted to explain my predicament to the two women. It turns out that the Vietnamese don't understand the word 'cockroach', so in my panic I did the most ridiculous impression of a cockroach that I could think of, putting my hands together and wiggling my fingers franticly through the air. The women just stared at me in amusement. Eventually one of them got it, and followed me upstairs with a can of pesticide. Despite spraying the bugger, and leaving us in peace, the lady did not kill our unwanted roomate. I'd finally calmed down when it only flew out from behind a bed and landed on my pillow! I flipped again, and after Annabel's futile attempts and killing it by throwing a flip flop, went back down to get our lady. This time, it took two of them. One of them used a bag to pick it up in one swoop from my pillow, while the other laughed and looked under beds. "Not your friend?!" they laughed as we both cowered in the corner of our beds. They said we were ok, but after they left, I wasn't so sure...
Of course there was another! Scuttling out from my bag. I screamed again (and yes, by this time, even I thought I was being pathetic) and the women actually heard me from downstairs and came to our aid. They pounced on the creature with their bare hands, and found another before leaving. "We are moving rooms!" I said...and luckily, the next day, we did. Still, we were pretty famous at the hotel, and despite the minor infestation, we still loved the place.
We got our bearings and explored the city, hitting the market first of course. I finally got the hang of bartering and got myself some jewellry and some 'Weasel' coffee (made through a weasel, if you get my drift). It's an easy city to get around, and within a day we'd walked along our own little tour, including the main sights of the Reunification Palace and the famous War Remnants Museum.
This was the main place of intrigue for me. We'd met the Irish girls again the night before, and heard just how emotional the photographs and information in this museum was, that it moved some people to tears. Being a history geek, I was still itching to get there. Outside the building, were American tanks and fighter planes, and an outdoor replica of the horrific tiger cages (prisons of torture). Inside the museum, were the main exhibitions depicting the untold horrors and casualties of the war. 'Requiem' by Vietnam photojournalist Tim Page, showed a collection of war photographs taken by international journalists, wanting to portray the lesser seen footage of the war.
The scenes depicted were heartbreaking. Photographs of women, children and babies, piled up dead on the ground almost brought me to tears. Snapshots of devastated villages torn apart by flaming bombs, and peasant civilians kneeling on the ground, pleading with soldiers, moments before being shot. There was a whole exhibition dedicated to highlighting the dangers of Agent Orange (chemical bombs including Dioxin) showing the long-term effects on the Vietnamese people. Children today are still being born with disabilities due to their grand parents being subjected to the gases. This was what was so unique about the museum: it didn't glorify the weapons, planes, or soldiers but showed the real tragedy of war, pain and death.
It was an exhausting experience, but well worth it. The next day we had the Cu Chi tunnels, where we played out the roles of the Viet Cong and explored the vast underground network of tunnels, built as a stronghold against the American troops. Full of bamboo boobie traps, and hidden passages, these tunnels were home to the local Viet Cong soldiers, who could navigate their way around and trick the opposition. We climbed through the 200m long tunnel underground, sweating in the heat, but ploughing on through the claustrophobia (the tunnels had even been made bigger for tourists so I dread to think how much smaller they were!). As a touristy gimic, we treated ourselves to 5 bullets each in an AK47 at the shooting range! We were AWESOME! It was a very cool day, and we feel a lot more educated now!
Obviously there was still drinking. Saigon's nightlife was a little too expensive though. We had a couple of good ones in the backpacker area, and explored one of the weird Vietnamese nightclubs, but it wasn't a patch on Nha Trang or Hanoi.
Anyway, thats a wrap for Vietnam! It's been eventful and jam packed for sure, but it still wasn't what we expected. For a country that has had so much war and political turmoil, Vietnam is becoming a lot more touristy. Good for Vietnam I guess, but we thought we'd see a lot more local villages and get down and dirty. Still, it's the backpacker trail, and it's been a hell of a lot of fun. So now all that has to be said is...GOOD EVENING VIETNAM!!!!
Thursday, 24 March 2011
Tailor-made Days and 'Lame' Nights - Bye Bye Budget, Hello Hoi An.
The small coastal town of Hoi An is Vietnam's answer to a shopaholic's mecca. Many a Westerner has parted with a hefty wad of cash, in order to get their retail fix, and purchase a custom made wardrobe. As two shopaholics stuck with a backpacker's budget, Annabel and I were apprehensive about our time here, to say the least.
We'd heard from our friends that this place was addictive.You pick anything, and I mean anything, out of a magazine, and the best value tailors in Vietnam will make you your own custom fitted copy. We were excited!
I think my main regret with Hoi An, was not having a proper idea of what I really needed...This became my downfall, as if I liked what I saw, I got one fitted for me. Oh, my poor poor budget.
Most Westerners make the most of Hoi An's good value, by getting suits, jackets and smart dresses made. I thought this was a good place to start, as I know too well how expensive suits can be back at home. So, I got a lovely matching grey trouser and blazer suit made, for the job I don't yet have (one can only hope). All my measurements were taken, and I handpicked the fabric, and the lining, and showed a photograph of exactly how I wanted my blazer. I was still apprehensive: I'm very fussy about how my trousers look on me, and I still had little faith. We were told that our suits would be ready for fitting the next morning, and for collection in the evening, so we paid a deposit, and set off to kill time in the town.
Unluckily, the cold weather had followed us down from Hanoi, and we only had one afternoon of good sunshine on the beach. The worst part of this, was that all we had to do in the day was, well, shop. I ended up getting two dresses, one tailor made, the other just bought, 3 DVD's and leather boots in total. Whoops. I would have felt worse, but the Canadians spent about $300 each in three days. I kept to about $120, but the leather boots were a must. Tailor made to fit my horrible ugly feet. In my favourite colour of tan leather, with my own thickness of heel, and darker leather lining. The best part of it? Only $25. Hello bargain! Happy Steph.
Meanwhile, whilst all this shopping was going on during the day, you may ask what we did at night. Hoi An is definately not famous for its nightlife, with only a few choice bars and not really enough people to make a party.
But what Hoi An didn't realise, was that Team Englanada was going to have an almighty reunion. We bumped into Andy, Luke and Jonathan, and told them to come for dinner with us in the evening. We discovered a little gem called 'Lame' Cafe - and it was far from boring. The staff would welcome us from the pavement with a loud "HELLO!" and a frantic wave. We took one look at the cheap prices, and were sold.
I had the best Vietnamese style spring rolls that I have ever had (and that is some claim!) with crispy rice paper and cut up shrimp inside. They were so crunchy and not at all greasy. There was some serious food envy at the table that night. Yet the main selling point of Lame Cafe was the 3,000 VND draught beer (that's about 10 pence for half a pint) which you could go up and hand pour yourself. Put that together with the Halong Bay reunion, and it was a party! The staff loved it. We were chanting and clapping away with our drinking games, and gradually got merry enough to head out discover the night life.
We jumped into a free mini bus from the main bar in town, and were taken to the beach party. Here it seemed that every young person in Hoi An and come out to play. I danced and sang for hours, staining my tongue yellow from the buckets, joined in with the Aussie sprinkler dances and ran away from the offers of a "moustache ride" (don't ask). Turns out that you can make a party anywhere in Vietnam, with the right people and the right drink.
The same fun followed for the next two nights, including St. Patrick's Day. Annabel and I were sad to not be with our favourite Paddies in Nha Trang, but made sure we celebrated in their honour by donning green, and drinking as if we were in an Irish pub. Needless to say, at the end of these few days, we craved sobriety and culture. Our wallets ached, and our colds suffered.
To make it all worth while, our suits turned out great, the boots were perfect, and we have some hilarious photos. Hoi An, you've done us proud. Money well spent.
We'd heard from our friends that this place was addictive.You pick anything, and I mean anything, out of a magazine, and the best value tailors in Vietnam will make you your own custom fitted copy. We were excited!
I think my main regret with Hoi An, was not having a proper idea of what I really needed...This became my downfall, as if I liked what I saw, I got one fitted for me. Oh, my poor poor budget.
Most Westerners make the most of Hoi An's good value, by getting suits, jackets and smart dresses made. I thought this was a good place to start, as I know too well how expensive suits can be back at home. So, I got a lovely matching grey trouser and blazer suit made, for the job I don't yet have (one can only hope). All my measurements were taken, and I handpicked the fabric, and the lining, and showed a photograph of exactly how I wanted my blazer. I was still apprehensive: I'm very fussy about how my trousers look on me, and I still had little faith. We were told that our suits would be ready for fitting the next morning, and for collection in the evening, so we paid a deposit, and set off to kill time in the town.
Unluckily, the cold weather had followed us down from Hanoi, and we only had one afternoon of good sunshine on the beach. The worst part of this, was that all we had to do in the day was, well, shop. I ended up getting two dresses, one tailor made, the other just bought, 3 DVD's and leather boots in total. Whoops. I would have felt worse, but the Canadians spent about $300 each in three days. I kept to about $120, but the leather boots were a must. Tailor made to fit my horrible ugly feet. In my favourite colour of tan leather, with my own thickness of heel, and darker leather lining. The best part of it? Only $25. Hello bargain! Happy Steph.
Meanwhile, whilst all this shopping was going on during the day, you may ask what we did at night. Hoi An is definately not famous for its nightlife, with only a few choice bars and not really enough people to make a party.
But what Hoi An didn't realise, was that Team Englanada was going to have an almighty reunion. We bumped into Andy, Luke and Jonathan, and told them to come for dinner with us in the evening. We discovered a little gem called 'Lame' Cafe - and it was far from boring. The staff would welcome us from the pavement with a loud "HELLO!" and a frantic wave. We took one look at the cheap prices, and were sold.
I had the best Vietnamese style spring rolls that I have ever had (and that is some claim!) with crispy rice paper and cut up shrimp inside. They were so crunchy and not at all greasy. There was some serious food envy at the table that night. Yet the main selling point of Lame Cafe was the 3,000 VND draught beer (that's about 10 pence for half a pint) which you could go up and hand pour yourself. Put that together with the Halong Bay reunion, and it was a party! The staff loved it. We were chanting and clapping away with our drinking games, and gradually got merry enough to head out discover the night life.
We jumped into a free mini bus from the main bar in town, and were taken to the beach party. Here it seemed that every young person in Hoi An and come out to play. I danced and sang for hours, staining my tongue yellow from the buckets, joined in with the Aussie sprinkler dances and ran away from the offers of a "moustache ride" (don't ask). Turns out that you can make a party anywhere in Vietnam, with the right people and the right drink.
The same fun followed for the next two nights, including St. Patrick's Day. Annabel and I were sad to not be with our favourite Paddies in Nha Trang, but made sure we celebrated in their honour by donning green, and drinking as if we were in an Irish pub. Needless to say, at the end of these few days, we craved sobriety and culture. Our wallets ached, and our colds suffered.
To make it all worth while, our suits turned out great, the boots were perfect, and we have some hilarious photos. Hoi An, you've done us proud. Money well spent.
Monday, 21 March 2011
It's not all a bunch of roses...
After the three days of luxury and fun in Halong Bay, we were thrown back into the whirlwind Hanoi. We'd checked in at the same place as Canada, in the buzzing Hanoi Backpackers Hostel. We showered and ate, and headed out into town, to explore Hanoi's night life further.
Really, this was unnecessary, as we had had our fun in Halong Bay, plus the 'ladies night' before! Yet, Annabel, Brendan and I ventured out to find Temple Bar (a must visit, full of locals and dodgy licensing laws!).
Sure enough we found it, albeit not easily, having to climb under the silver shutters, subtly opened up by a man outside. Once inside, we were 3 out of about 9 Westerners in this narrow, sweaty, crowded club. We embraced it, like with everything else, and danced around like crazy people. Two beefed up American body builders approached us, and fawned over our 'sexy' British accents. Now, I'm not one for judging by stereotype, but these two were EXACTLY the reason why American travellers get bad press out here. Loud, arrogant, and brassy. One was sporting interesting tattoos on each arm, which I overheard him describing:
"This one means TRUTH and this one means JUSTICE...cos that's the only thing that matters buddy!"
Nice. It was about this point when all the music was cut. We started to look around in confusion, as we'd only just got here! I was informed by one of the Vietnamese partiers that the police had turned up wanting to shut the place down. So that was it for us! Or so we thought...
We were recommended to head to Lighthouse Club by the river. It was a bit of mission, so the "best" way to get there was by xe om (motorbike taxis). This didn't sit well with me at all. I'd heard all sorts of warnings about these vigilante motorbikers mugging people in dark streets and taking advantage of tourists. Yet I was egged on by my group. I was assured that I'd be ok with one of the boys, so I went with it.
Big mistake.
All the way, I was freaking out about the driver. He wasn't focusing on the road, and kept looking behind at me. I kept telling him to look forward and actually held his head to face the front! My friend Carlo, found it funny how much I was freaking out, and I suppose I laughed too, trying to get past my gut fear.
Alarm bells started to ring when the bike took a right down the main road: the opposite direction to the club as written on my map. I alerted Carlo, but we were dropped off in a really bad looking area. No lights. No cars. No people. I started to argue with driver, insisting that we had to go up a back a few streets as he was going the wrong way. We moved up a few more, before we stopped again. By this time, I'd had enough. I told Carlo we were getting off here before he did anything bad.
We got off the bike and I checked my bag: it was wide open. I instantly did the spot check: camera, phone, wallet...
"Wallet. Carlo, he's got my wallet!" It was gone. The guy was just starting to turn his bike engine back on, to drive away, when I flipped! I don't know what came over me, but my alarm bells rang, my heart raced, and I ran after him, screaming "GIVE ME MY WALLET BACK!".
I saw him throw the wallet to the ground, with my cards still in it, but all my cash gone. My cards weren't enough. I had my dollars in there too, and by this stage I'd worked out that this guy didn't have the best escape strategy. Carlo and I went running after him. I grabbed onto his bike, which was swaying all over the place, and pulled him to the ground.
The biker didn't know what had hit him! I grabbed at his jacket, even tearing the sleeve, whilst Carlo held him back. I saw my last opportunity, and swooped into his jacket pocket grabbing any cash I could find. Carlo let the guy go, while I looked sadly at my handful of petty cash.
It then came crashing back down on me. I broke down into uncontrollable tears. I was inconsolable. Here we were, lost, alone in some tiny street in the suburb of Hanoi. A small group of local women crowded round me, looking worried, as I looked a state. Carlo was panicking a bit, and urged me to get up and get out!
It was tough, and to cut a long and horrible experience short, we made it back safely. Not at all sound, but safe. Annabel had been fine on her bike, and had made it to the club, but her homing device alerted her to come back to find me! We were all ok, and I was carted off to a bar, over Carlo's shoulder, to buy my a bucket.
I slept safe in my bed that night, and woke up feeling lucky, but these things just remind you, that no matter how great your travels may be, they can still turn ugly. We're safe and still loving life, but we have lessons to learn. I for one, will be steering well clear of motorbike taxis at night, and will never take all my money out in one go.
But the main lesson to be learnt? Always trust your gut.
Really, this was unnecessary, as we had had our fun in Halong Bay, plus the 'ladies night' before! Yet, Annabel, Brendan and I ventured out to find Temple Bar (a must visit, full of locals and dodgy licensing laws!).
Sure enough we found it, albeit not easily, having to climb under the silver shutters, subtly opened up by a man outside. Once inside, we were 3 out of about 9 Westerners in this narrow, sweaty, crowded club. We embraced it, like with everything else, and danced around like crazy people. Two beefed up American body builders approached us, and fawned over our 'sexy' British accents. Now, I'm not one for judging by stereotype, but these two were EXACTLY the reason why American travellers get bad press out here. Loud, arrogant, and brassy. One was sporting interesting tattoos on each arm, which I overheard him describing:
"This one means TRUTH and this one means JUSTICE...cos that's the only thing that matters buddy!"
Nice. It was about this point when all the music was cut. We started to look around in confusion, as we'd only just got here! I was informed by one of the Vietnamese partiers that the police had turned up wanting to shut the place down. So that was it for us! Or so we thought...
We were recommended to head to Lighthouse Club by the river. It was a bit of mission, so the "best" way to get there was by xe om (motorbike taxis). This didn't sit well with me at all. I'd heard all sorts of warnings about these vigilante motorbikers mugging people in dark streets and taking advantage of tourists. Yet I was egged on by my group. I was assured that I'd be ok with one of the boys, so I went with it.
Big mistake.
All the way, I was freaking out about the driver. He wasn't focusing on the road, and kept looking behind at me. I kept telling him to look forward and actually held his head to face the front! My friend Carlo, found it funny how much I was freaking out, and I suppose I laughed too, trying to get past my gut fear.
Alarm bells started to ring when the bike took a right down the main road: the opposite direction to the club as written on my map. I alerted Carlo, but we were dropped off in a really bad looking area. No lights. No cars. No people. I started to argue with driver, insisting that we had to go up a back a few streets as he was going the wrong way. We moved up a few more, before we stopped again. By this time, I'd had enough. I told Carlo we were getting off here before he did anything bad.
We got off the bike and I checked my bag: it was wide open. I instantly did the spot check: camera, phone, wallet...
"Wallet. Carlo, he's got my wallet!" It was gone. The guy was just starting to turn his bike engine back on, to drive away, when I flipped! I don't know what came over me, but my alarm bells rang, my heart raced, and I ran after him, screaming "GIVE ME MY WALLET BACK!".
I saw him throw the wallet to the ground, with my cards still in it, but all my cash gone. My cards weren't enough. I had my dollars in there too, and by this stage I'd worked out that this guy didn't have the best escape strategy. Carlo and I went running after him. I grabbed onto his bike, which was swaying all over the place, and pulled him to the ground.
The biker didn't know what had hit him! I grabbed at his jacket, even tearing the sleeve, whilst Carlo held him back. I saw my last opportunity, and swooped into his jacket pocket grabbing any cash I could find. Carlo let the guy go, while I looked sadly at my handful of petty cash.
It then came crashing back down on me. I broke down into uncontrollable tears. I was inconsolable. Here we were, lost, alone in some tiny street in the suburb of Hanoi. A small group of local women crowded round me, looking worried, as I looked a state. Carlo was panicking a bit, and urged me to get up and get out!
It was tough, and to cut a long and horrible experience short, we made it back safely. Not at all sound, but safe. Annabel had been fine on her bike, and had made it to the club, but her homing device alerted her to come back to find me! We were all ok, and I was carted off to a bar, over Carlo's shoulder, to buy my a bucket.
I slept safe in my bed that night, and woke up feeling lucky, but these things just remind you, that no matter how great your travels may be, they can still turn ugly. We're safe and still loving life, but we have lessons to learn. I for one, will be steering well clear of motorbike taxis at night, and will never take all my money out in one go.
But the main lesson to be learnt? Always trust your gut.
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