Backpack Contents

Check out our pics: Backpack Contents

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Call us anal. But we were so proud of our little 45-50 litre back packs and our organizational system that before we came home we took photos of the contents of our packs. I know, weird. We thought it would be handy to know what we took for future travels. And then we thought, well why not shove them on the blog so that those of you who are curious can have a gander. Aside from clothes and documents we shared and divided up everything else. (to see items click on photo link on the blog main page, which will taking you into Picasso and view album called "Backpack Contents"). All important documents were scanned and stored in Hotmail just in case we lost anything. It felt great to travel so lightly. If we needed new clothes we just bought them as we needed them. In Patagonia where we did some packpacking we rented all backpacking equipment cheaply and easily. Traveling so simply is a great feeling and I would do it all the same on future trips.

ciao xxx

the spread

2 little bags

Tanzania, Zanzibar...and heading home

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Tanzania and Zanzibar
Returning Home

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Dudes, so like, you guys are probably aware that I grew up in California, I just don't do bad weather, so it was like totally great to get out of rainy Lushoto and hit the beach.

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Just had no time recently to do blog. So in short, Zanzibar was beautiful, but full of touts especially keen to hassle women traveling together, like flies round er....really beautiful water melons. We had already bought tickets onward to Ethiopia and India but we were beginning to get a little jaded and the thought of dealing with more touts, and horrible overcrowded cities was exhausting. I also split my eye open on a low wall while ducking under a laundry line at our beach hotel. Before we spat on a tout or kicked a child we felt the need to reassess our sitch. When walking along the insanely beautiful beach one afternoon, Tracy suddenly declared "I've hit the wall....let's go home". Sounded like a plan. We had to wait 5-6 days to get a flight to Edinburgh (via Qatar) and were then able to enjoy the remainder of our time on the beach.

Tanzania 2- Moshi and Lushoto

Check out our pics: Tanzania2

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After our safari we headed to the nearby small town of Moshi. It is the nearest town for trips to Mount Kilimanjaro. We weren't actually interested in climbing it, but thought it would be nice to spend a day in Moshi just to at least see it. It was totally clouded over when we arrived, but that's not why we ended up staying for almost two weeks...

On the first morning we hit the local mzungu (foreigner) coffee shop and somehow (Tracy's so friendly!) got talking to this American guy who lives here. We took the opportunity to ask him all about Moshi and mentioned that we would be interested in volunteering somewhere just for a week or two. He happened to know of a lady that had just opened up a daycare in her garden who would probably love our help. So we set off after coffee to meet Grace and the kids. Apparently there had been a spate of child kidnappings (their organs used in witchcraft ceremonies!) and parents were worried about leaving their kids in the streets when they went off to work. Hence the need for daycare. Grace and the kids, who sang us a Swahili song, were very welcoming and we planned to see them again on monday.

The daycare was closed over the weekend so we spent most of that time uploading the safari pics and doing the blog. It really took that long. Just getting into my hotmail account took fifteen and a half minutes! Internet connection is mind-numbingly slow here. Skype is impossible to use because of the connection speed. In South America, even in the remotest of places in the jungle, they had decent internet access. I feel bad about the effect of this on Africa's economic potential.

Anyhow, we spent the next week helping out at Grace's daydare center. I wish I knew more Swahili because one little girl, Doreenie, liked to sit on my knee and poke my face and examine my skin and hair very carefully and contentedly chatter away. I think at one point (she had her fingers up her nose in demonstration) she was trying to articulate "my, what big nostrils you have", but unfortunately her delightful chatter was completely lost on me.

There were a lot of young 20 year olds in Moshi volunteering who were like, totally funny to listen to, yeah? We met a couple of US girls at Grace's, they were more than happy for Tracy and I to overlap during the afternoon, showed up with sweets for the kids and looked relieved when their shift was over. In contrast, we met the 2 girls (one Scottish, one Irish) who took things way more seriously and turned up each day with a THEME they wanted to get across to the 3-5 year olds! I don't think either of them had ever watched Sesame Street.... the theme for the first day was "Geography". Not one country, nor a letter or number, but the entire world. I think they gave up when the kids started to kick the blow up globes at each other. I was deadly curious to see what the next day's topic would be...Supply-side Economics perhaps? Anyway, it really was fun interacting with the kids and other helpers.

I am a bit embarrassed, but I actually teared up one day. Grace doesn't have much money, but she feeds the children who won't get fed at home. We were there one lunch time and we declined the food, (fried rice and beans) cos we had eaten a late breakfast and we wanted it to go to the children. However, we also felt that we might have upset Lillian, the preacher's wife who cooked the meal...so we went to Grace, who speaks English, and explained that she needn't feed us, and we hope we didn't offend Lillian. She said that she didn't want us to worry, "God will provide". Something about the way she said it was so sincere, not just a phrase, that it pushed my tear buttons and I had to come up with a lot of distracting displacement behaviour, like loud coughing and random pointing to throw her off the scent of fresh saline.

Talking of eyeballs, we had run out of contact lens solution so on Saturday we made it our goal to find some. (contact lens solution, not eyeballs) We asked at several pharmacies but the answer was no. We finally got a lead however... 'the Christian Hospital has an eye department and they probably have it'. So we took a taxi in the rain and after 10 minutes arrived at the hospital grounds. Conveniently, there was a sign for the eye pavillion just where the taxi stopped. We followed the sign and entered the 70's two-storey concrete building. The door opened into a dark empty hallway that was so creepy we both instinctively stopped in our tracks and shuffled backwards. But then we heard footsteps descending the stairwell nearby. We asked the man where the eye pavillion was. He indicated we follow him, he walked for a few minutes then pointed. We then found ourselves conveniently walking through what we feared was the infectious diseases ward towards the eye department. We passed another two dark wards, one with moaning people lying in cots. Naturally, the eye department store was closed. However, after passing through the hospital our day's priority to source lens solution felt a little frivolous and we happily hailed a taxi into town, glad that we had our health. Then we went shoe shopping. Kidding.

We said goodbye to Grace and the kids, (the kids and staff waved and waved until we were all just little dots in the distance! cute!) and then headed to Lushoto to do a little hiking in the Usambara mountains. Lushoto was picturesque but muddy. We went into the little tourist information place to find out about hikes and met a couple of germans who had just returned from a 4 day hike. They had mud up to their knees and were not overly enthusiastic about their experience. Tracy admitted in our hotel room that she's just not a bad weather hiker, that maybe we should just move on to somewhere with sun. We decided to sleep on it. Next morning it was only lightly drizzling and I (having grown up in fine drizzle) persuaded Tracy to do just a day hike. We hired a guide (though we'd have prefered hiking on our own the guidebook encourages one to hire a guide so that money is going in to the community) and set off to see the Irente viewpoint. It was magnificent and all along the way we practiced our Swahili greetings with the people we passed. Turned out to be a glorious day, but as the rain started again in the evening we decided over dinner we needed a little beach action....so the very next day we took the very early morning bus towards Zanzibar.

Tanzania Safari

Check out our pics: Tanzania Safari

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We flew from Cape Town to Dar (that’s Dar es Salaam for you out-of-towners) in Tanzania. We were eager to do a safari right away so the very next morning we took a taxi from our pad at the YMCA to the bus station for the 7am bus to Arusha. The 8 hour bus journey was one of the best I’ve experienced. Thanks to a little early finagling on Tracy’s part I had leg room, a seatbelt and an unobstructed view of the road. We made only one stop for lunch where we sampled ugali (like mashed potato in texture and colour, but made from maize) and banana beef stew, a local favorite (had to try it), all very tasty and healthy.

The countryside was lush, green and splashed with vibrant colours from village signs, fruit markets, and people’s clothing. Women balanced huge loads on their heads and guys on bicycles teetered with their loads of wood dangerously near our rapidly moving bus. We arrived in Arusha only 45 minutes late (the bus drivers were stopped and questioned by the police, not sure why) and found a hotel for the evening just before sunset.

We had been warned about the touts selling tours in Arusha and woah, it’s as bad as the guide books say. The next day we had a coterie of 6-7 men follow us everywhere as we walked about town, all urging us to visit certain tour operators. Two young English girls whom we met on the bus the day before, showing little interest in developing a long term friendship at the time, suddenly ran across the life-threateningly busy road, fleeing from their own entourage of touts to say hello. We joined forces and soon realized that all the companies did pretty much the same tour. In the end we chose a company, Shidolya Tours that didn’t lie to us about where the migration was (The migration of wildebeest and zebra were already in Kenya). This company also guaranteed there would be no more than 5 tourists in the jeep. As is turned out we were fortunate in having the jeep to ourselves for the majority of the game drives.

The safari was truly incredible. We half expected David Attenborough (or Marlin Perkins for you Americans) to jump out behind the high grass. The first day of the safari we drove to Lake Manyara. We thought we would have to actually earn a viewing, you know, drive for hours attempting authentic mating calls while spraying ourselves with baby gazelle pheromones. But there was no need. Zebras and impalas and wildebeest in the same frame! We’d go from spotted hyena to warthog to lilac-breasted roller in a matter of minutes. We camped the first night at a town that translates from Swahili as Mosquito Creek. The following day (one bottle of mosquito repellent later), we headed to the Serengeti where we would camp for the next two nights. One night we were woken up by loud braying noises, (sounded like a cross between a donkey and Freddie Mercury). We listened as the creatures hurriedly passed through our camp until the sounds were distant. Then Tracy decided to go outside for a pee. I pointed out that the zebras sounded fair distressed to me, which could mean only one thing…..predators of the feline kind. Tracy waited it out.

We had been VERY lucky in the Serengeti to see a leopard and cub only a few feet away from our jeep on a very early morning game drive. We were able to follow them for 20 minutes before they went off along a river. Leopards are apparently one of the most difficult to see since they don’t like people. Even our driver was excited and took every opportunity to show other drivers a picture we took of the pair. Other highlights were watching a group of female lions surround a herd of nervous zebra. While we and the other jeeps were all focused on the distant lions and zebras, Tracy pointed out a lion who had quietly positioned herself just 4 feet away from us. It was really fun to watch the expression of the guys face change in the jeep in front of us (with his lens that was long enough to spot dust on the moon) when Tracy “psssst”-ed him and pointed to the lion next to our jeep.

Our last day took us to the Ngorongoro Crater Nature Reserve, unique in that it is basically a big bowl that contains a wide variety of animals. That night my sleep was disturbed once again. This time by Tracy anxiously shouting, “Is that you???!”. “Is WHAT me?”, I even more anxiously responded, while simultaneously feeling and hearing something violently banging the tent wall next to my head. After I very bravely and instinctively hit back at the object beyond the tent wall, the ‘thing’ moved on. A few minutes later, still hearing an enormous amount of crunching going on, Tracy bravely popped her head out the tent to find that it was just our old pals, the zebras, grazing near us.

Anyhow, we saw lions, leopards, elephants, buffalos, a rhino, cheetahs, all sorts of antelopes, wildebeest, heartbeast, dik diks, rock hyrax, giraffes, baboons, warthogs, monkeys, hyenas, hippos, crocs, all sort of pretty birds and blah, blah. We would recommend this trip to everyone. Unless of course you have fur allergies.

South Africa

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AAAfffrica! Tracy was beside herself with excitement. Finally she gets to set foot on African soil, land of our ancestors. I was totally cucumber-like, having already been to Egypt many years ago and Morocco last October (nonchanlant sniff) and I did not hesitate to point this out. Many times. Tracy said my trips didn't count, that wasn't the real Africa. Whatever. So we landed in Cape Town, South Africa and even though I knew it was approaching their winter, I still expected to be greeted by a blast of hot air once we left the plane. Wrong. It was a little chilly. Then we are picked up by a taxi who takes us to our hostel, Salty Crax, (I know, I know, Tracy chose it) in Table View, a suburb of Cape Town next to the beach.

Initial impressions were how like the States it looked, and how brilliant it was to have so many British foodstuffs in the stores. Curly Wurlies, Marmite, Licorice Allsorts, real wholemeal bread and muesli without added sugar, greek yoghurt, a huge variety of real fruit juices. We were finally inspired to cook (not necessarliy using the ingredients listed above). We were also blown away by the friendliness of the South Africans we met. Within 48 hours we had 2 rounds of drinks bought for us (one from a guy in a Mexican restaurant and the other by the barman in a different establishment). We had a clothing store clerk give us free coffee coupons when he saw Tracy drinking her latte. And, in the aforementioned bar, we met Nola and her friend Eugene, who after talking to us for five minutes, invited us for breakfast the next morning. They picked us up at Salty Crax, we had a big Vera's (Ballard, WA.... sigh!) style breakfast and then they took us for a tour round the coast. We stopped at a Cuban bar for some refreshments and had a really good laugh.

Apart from being overwhelmingly friendly, another thing we noticed about the South Africans we met was their directness. On our first day at Salty Crax (sorry, had to mention the name just once more) the maid, after saying hello, immediately inquired: Do you have children? Why not? Which bed are you sleeping in? This big one or the bunk beds?

Then the conversation with the super-friendly waitress at the Mexican restaurant went something like this:

Waitress: Where are you from?
Tracy: The States…Seattle, Washington.
Waitress: So you must speak Spanish, yeah?
Tracy: huh?
Waitress: Yes, I’ve heard Seattle is a very run down place and poor.
Tracy: Interesting. You do realize Seattle is on the border with Canada? And that companies like Microsoft, Boeing and Starbucks are based there?
Waitress: hmmm, well, that's what I heard.

After a few days at ......Salty Crax, we moved into the center of Cape Town, to the Cat and Moose backpacker's on Long Street. We did a wine tour of 4 different wineries, where we sampled over forty different wines, champagnes and ports. At first we actually drank the wine, but by the second winery we realized we needed to spit out if we wanted to maintain decorum. We went out to dinner later that day with some of our fellow wine tasters to a game restaurant where I had the shark and Tracy had the warthog. We also took a tour to Robben Island where Nelson Mandela was imprisoned. The interesting part of the trip is that at one point we were shown around by a former prisoner. I would like to have asked him so many questions, but we were in a huge tourist cluster and it was just easier to shuffle along with the group. One day we climbed up Table mountain, and it was so nice to do some exercise. We were chuffed to realize we climbed up in less than half the time it's supposed to take. Wow, we are so great... and the views were really nice from the top. On Saturday night we met Nola and Eugene again in Long Street and we did a tour of a few bars/clubs. Cape Town is totally 'tucked in'. (One of our 'in jokes'). We had a tucking good time.

Hiring a car for two days, we drove out to the Cape Point Nature Reserve. Beautiful scenic coastal roads. We stopped in Simons town, a place my dad visited when he was in the Navy and had some delicious fish and chips and a beer in his honour. We also stopped in at the african penguin colony near Boulder's beach. The Cape of Good Hope and Cape Point were great to see, partly because I remember learning about it in primary school and because it's a beautiful spot. We took some pics for Renee and Sean who were getting married that day. So hope they felt the vibes! Though we were enjoying Cape Town, we had to decide where to go next. We finally decided to go first to the place we most wanted to go....the Serengeti, Tanzania for some animal action......keep tuned.

Uruguay

Check out our pics: Uruguay

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UPDATE: Currently in Tanzania, working on getting our Africa pics uploaded and will write South Africa and Tanzania blog over next few days. Meanwhile, check out our pics from Uruguay and the rubbish below that has been sitting in 'drafts' for way too long.

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OMG you guys. Sorry it's been a while since I wrote. So like right now I'm in Montevideo, Uruguay. Even though I know it's wrong, I like to stress the i in video since it drives Ingrid crazy. We have been here for five days and it's a totally great place just to chill. Folks are so friendly here. Today I got up early as usual and though my immediate thought was "COFFEE", I paused long enough to lift up Ingrid's sleeping wrist and remove last night´s chocolate wrappers, straighten my bed, and pick up Ingrid's stray dental floss on my way to the kitchen. Once I had my coffee in hand I scanned the hostel kitchen and lounge area for new arrivals and then engaged with with them long enough to establish whether they contained information I need. "Taiwan, huh!.....not on my itinerary, who's your friend?"

After chatting for a while, I headed back into our room where Ingrid was beginning to stir. I assessed laundry status then attempted to gain agreement from Ing on the day's schedule. I generally shower before she has sat up. Then I do all the important things. I established early on the "shared responsibility" technique for argument-free travel. Basically, since she habitually loses shit, I am in charge of the purse. And all the credit cards. And dealing with bill payments online, getting cards reissued after fraud, etc, etc and anything requiring a telephone call. On the other hand, she is responsible for deciding on the flavor of cheesecake we're gonna share, map reading, and is the project manager on the blog.

Anyhoo, Uruguay really is friendly. The other day we were coming back from the big Sunday flea market, (which we arrived at just as they were packing up) and happened to spot a poster saying 'Tango Show' in the window of a big modern coffee shop. It started Sunday at 5pm (in 10 minutes time) and was only three dollars entry fee, so we didn't think we had much to lose if it like, totally sucked. So we went in and sat down at a table next to the stage area. There was a group of like, elderly ladies at one table and a real old guy at another. In half an hour the show hadn't started but the place had filled. Finally the show started. A portly man began singing a tango tune accompanied by a guy on guitar. They were both real good. Then a woman got up to sing in a real passionate manner with lots of clutching and stamping and mentions of "corazon" (heart). As the number of singers increased, we gradually realized this was Tango karaoke. Then I was getting like freaked out that we would be asked to sing something. The next act was a couple dancing. They were so cute. When they had finished they came over to us and the woman said "We are not professional. We just like to dance. Sorry!" After that a woman very nervously got up and said something about "americanos", I think our presence was making everyone nervous. She started off shaky but then got into it and sang beautifully. Everyone cheered when she finished. I was like totally tearing up by this time. Then the host mentioned someone's birthday and everyone started singing the spanish version of "Happy Birthday to You". Then he gestured the microphone toward us and said "in English". Before Ingrid had time to clear her throat, I was up on my feet and belting out Happy Birthday into the microphone, cos I know that this is the one song I could get away with. You gotta act quick. I sat back at ease and ordered another beer, and smiled at Ing who was looking a little flustered. At about eight I could see things were about to end so I manoevered our quick get away. As we left, I winked at the passionate lady singer, nodded to some others, reiterated happy birthday to Laura, and gave a general wave to all. Once we were outside Ing sighs "Mabye I should have sung something" and "I wish I'd had time to say goodbye". I told her how I had left my goodbyes to everyone, and that what she needed was a little more in the panache department. Yup, that's something you can't buy. Anyway everyone at the Tango Show made us so welcome, what a great experience.

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After Montevideo, we headed to Colonia and stayed a few days at this Unesco site. Very peaceful and picturesque town. Could easily have stayed longer, and should have. The peeps in Uruguay really are a friendly and laid back bunch. Then we took a ferry over to Buenos Aires which turned out to be quite stressful this time. We needed to take care of some businessy stuff that required internet access so we booked our wi-fi capapble hostel ahead, but when we arrived they had given our room away. We made do at a place nearby. But then I found a cat pee puddle in the corner of the room. I made the manager sniff my bag that had been sitting on that spot and asked for the room to be cleaned. I really should have been more specific. When we got back later that day there were new sheets on the bed and the pillows had been plumped, but the dried puddle was still there!? We spent the next day looking for better accommodation. We moved to another place which looked all plush and designery on the surface but it turned out that their wifi didn't work and the room had a mould problem. We spent the next few days attempting to do errands and looking for new accommodation with internet access in our spare time. It was not very relaxing. Try posting a box in Buenos Aires. We finally gave up. It required more energy than we had. One store for a box, another for the tape, and 30min queues at the post office, each building as far away from each other as possible...and SO many wrong directions.... Fortunately we had some highlights too. We spent a great day with a friend, Jay, from Seattle who happened to be in BA on business. And we found a great place to stay on our last night.

Brazil

Check out our pics: Brazil

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After taking a look at the Iguazu Falls from the Brazilian side, we flew to Sao Paulo to meet Neuza. We first met Neuza about 13 years ago in a post office line in Bali and she was so animated we ended up having dinner together that night. We bumped into her a week later in Sumba, another Indonesian island, and then we couldn´t shake her! :) She visited us in Japan and also Seattle about eight years ago. It was so great to see her after all this time. She is 63 years going on 24! We could barely keep up. And she and Ana, a friend who´s living with her at the moment, were fabulous hosts. Her maid Mira, cooked us wonderful traditional Brazilian meals everyday. The fruit in Brazil is incredible. We went out to markets, heard traditional music, went to a nightclub where they were dancing forró (pronounced "fawhaw")... the works. We also spent many evenings in her top floor appartment looking at the view and drinking various tropical fruit caipirinhas. Tracy took the liberty of writing down some of Neuza´s choicest comments, which I will reproduce here to give you a flavor of our conversations.

¨Wherever one goes remember you´re bringing yourself¨

¨I'm proud to shit at least 600 grams each time.¨

¨I wake up new every morning¨

¨A: I love you
B: I got the information¨

In response to Tracy's 'What was it like being the sixteenth child?':
¨Like an egg for a chicken¨

And here's one of Tracy's:
"The key to health is bending over" (though much more fun out of context, this was in reference to the benefits of yoga)

After about a week with Neuza we headed to Rio de Janeiro. OMG, I have always wanted to go there, "Sugarloaf, Christ, Ipanema, Copacabana" poetry to the ears! And there we were! In it! And I was surprised how it lived up to my expectations. It really is a beautiful city, the beaches were pristine, great waves and the people watching supreme! We did the tour of the city and the tourist sites, deciding against the tour of a favela (the shanty town), seemed a little like the Victorians touring the lunatic asylums. Happily avoided dengue fever (there was an outbreak in the north of Rio). Stayed in a hostel ghetto in Ipanema where it was all happening, had great healthy food and purchased the requisite Havaianas flip flops that ALL of Brazil is wearing. Would like to have spent a bit longer there, but we had plans...

Overnight bus to Sao Paulo for flight to Fernando de Noronha, a world heritage eco island off the north coast of Brazil, 4 degrees south of the equator. Warm water and lots of marine life. We swam with turtles, scuba dived, snorkeled, body boarded, saw octopus, stingray, sharks, dolphins etc. We took several boat trips round the island and hiked to beautiful beaches. We also tried aqua scubi, where you hold on to a perspex board being towed by a boat and are able to use it to glide underwater. Fun! We were there during rainy season, and we had a storm, but it was always warm and given the sun-sensitive nature of our pale skin we were always thankful for a few clouds.

The island, and getting to it, is very expensive and when Tracy calculated that we were spending $25 an hour for the 6 days there, it made sleeping in a little too expensive! So we made the most of our time there. We met a lot of interesting people. Jean Luc and Jose from France who worked for UNESCO and their Brazilian photographer friend Thereza Eugenia. Then we met a Scottish guy who sailed into Noronha 20 years ago and decided to stay. We met a South African guy who was captaining a ship for a couple who were sailing round the world. Then we met 2 young Finnish guys, Teemu, an economic analyst, and Ossie who lives in Rio doing a PhD in alternative energy sources. The beers-on-the-porch conversation became very interesting when Ossie asked Kelda from the States how she felt working for Shell in Brazil! We had a great time solving all the world´s problems. If only we remembered what the solution was!

Woops, forgot, Tracy ripped open the space between her little toe while attempting to get on the boat after a scuba dive in rough water. Her toe was slammed into a metal ladder and required 2 stitches in an interesting trip to the hospital. Fortunately, I was there to have my hand crushed as she squirmed when her toes were pried apart to do the stitches. Though I would have avoided all forms of water and fashioned a protective bucket for my foot, Tracy was in the sea that very evening. Such a trooper!

After Fernando de Noronha, we flew back home to Sao Paulo just for 2 nights. Though we got in late, Neuza and Ana were waiting for us and had chilled caipirinhas at the ready to start off another great evening. We were lucky the next day to catch the end of a 24 hour city wide music and arts festival. The music we heard was samba from the old days with famous artists going back to the 60s. Most of the crowd knew the lyrics and sang along with the chorus. We felt lucky to be a part of this very Brazilian experience. I attempted to bend my knees and casually adopt the samba rhythm with my feet, pretending like I'd been doing it all my life. I think however, I am to Samba what Arnold Schwarzenegger is to Ballet. However, later that evening I relaxed enough to not give a damn and I'm pretty sure I came up with a few genius moves that will soon be incorporated into a new innovative dance form that I'd like to call 'SambInga'. After heartfelt thanks and goodbyes to Neuza and Ana, it was time to move on.

Overnight bus to Florianopolis. Weather rainy and overcast. Did a quick tour of the city by the sea and then another bus to Montevideo, Uruguay. Which is where we are now, spending a week here catching up on business before going back to Buenos Aires for our flight on May 14th to AFRICA!!!

Argentina

Check out our pics: Argentina

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Woah, we are terribly far behind so I will catch you up in a business-like fashion.

Puerto Natales, Chile After a bit of Patagonian hiking, Met Matt and Bianca off their ship and partied it up with them and their new fabby German friends. Bus to Argentina:

El Calafate (cutesy little Swiss-like town) Bumped into Antonie, the fifth member of our Uyuni tour group! Spent the next morning catching up. Took boat ride and walk to see one of the most active Glaciers in the mundo! The Perito Moreno Glacier. Ooh!

El Chaltèn Tiny little town set up for hiking the northern end of Los Glaciares National Park. Spent the first two beautifully sunny days hiking amongst spectacular scenery and autumn colors surrounding Mt Fitz Roy.

Third day signed up to go ice climbing on one of the glaciers, but it was cancelled midway due to extremely high winds. Had some FABULOUS meals. Great grilled lamb and the tastiest morcilla (black pudding/blood sausage) we've ever eaten at a bijoux restaurant named El Muro. Brilliant salad at the german brewery. Such a treat to eat vegetables! Up to this point on our trip, the food has been mostly unremarkable.

Bariloche A tourist mecca and jumping off point for Argentina's lake district. Chocolate and ice-cream shops, quaint wooden chalet buildings. Very expensive souvenirs. Did a day's horseriding on the hills overlooking the lakes. Fabulous day. Felt like I was living the dream, the wind caressing the bits of hair underneath my blue helmet, woman and beast as one. My horse was a little more strong willed than Tracy's, the ranch owner's and his assistant's, but I was just loving the whole experience, unified with nature and feeling invincible like a cross between John Wayne and Joan of Arc. Just after lunch, cowboy style fried steak sandwiches, the owner of the stables asked if I wanted to swap horses. I was a little puzzled, but declined, since I didn't mind that my horse would suddenly refuse to move, or would continuosly nuzzle the butt of the horse in front. I was above worrying myself with these trifles; I was in too good a mood. I would take the worst horse, I didn't mind taking it for the team. Then just as I was slowly going down hill with my steed, the owner gallops up to me and rasps "Get off your horse. You can not control. It too much for you!" In shock, I dismount and swap horses with his assistant. Though humiliated I try to remain cheerful. I almost succeed, until we get back to Bariloche and I buy an ice cream to lift my spirits. The ice-cream guy mistakenly addresses me as 'Señor'. . . Must purchase pink ribbons. Take flight to:

Buenos Aires Big old B.A. How thrilling to be in a big city. Have nice meals, lots of café time, fantastic museums, parks, a beautiful cemetary, a thunderstorm, the underground, the flea markets and antiques. Craft fairs and street demonstrations. The artsy San Telmo area, swanky Palermo, saw a movie, watched tango dancers on the streets. Walked over 8 hours everyday. Were exhausted after 4 days. Took Supercama (chairs fully recline like a bed) overnight bus to the border of Argentina, Paraguay and Brazil to see the Iguazu falls.

Iguazu Falls Spent three days exploring the widest falls in the world. Walked the many trails to the overlooks, took the jungle jeep ride and the boat ride under the fall to get drenched. Even did a little swimming. After the Argentinian side, once Tracy got her visa for Brazil, (we Brits don't need one) we went to see the falls from the Brazilian side. Not so much interaction with the water but better panoramic views. Flew to Sáo Paulo....

April 17th- Currently in Rio de Janeiro...wooo hooooo! and heading to the island of Fernando de Noronha for a week. Look out for the next blog: Brazil!

Chile

Check out our pics: Chile

[i]

Yo, surprise. Me again! [t] is off collecting laundry and 'grabbing a coffee'. I am sitting here in our really nice hostel in Puerto Natales waiting while the videos take a lifetime to upload. So we last left off in the salt flats of Bolivia. Our tour took us afterwards into Chile and dropped us off in the cutesy little town of San Pedro de Atacama. The five of us decided to spend the night there before heading our different ways in the morning. Though Tracy wasn't feeling that well, and Matt hadn't been well for a few days we thought it would be nice to spend our last night having a quiet meal together. Antonie said she'd spotted a place that we might like.


When we arrived at the establishment, the manager saw us peering at the menu in the threshold and immediately offered us a free round of Pisco Sours. That should have put us off, but somehow we went in and in a very short time we went from ¨Pisco Sour¨ to "nuthr Pithco Thour, por faavhor". We went from sitting as a quiet, contained group in the corner of the room to workin' the wary crowd, dancing about throughout the bar bringing several other characters into our vortex as we went. And the bar kept bringing us free rounds of drinks for providing the entertainment. Bianca was on form, not only for her 'signature moves' but for showing the DJ how to do his job. Antonie played her part by plying the DJ with all our unwanted free shots. According to Matt, who stayed sober, (thank goodness, otherwise I would have left both my jacket and purse under the table) and is our only reliable source, Tracy was a man magnet that night. She had to pry off the DJ's hands on a regular basis. I was my usual reserved self, and when not reading Emily Bronte in the corner, I could be found knitting alpaca gloves behind the bar.

The good news was that we had a great night. The bad news was that we all had early morning buses to catch. Antonie to Salta, Argentina and Matt, B, T and I, a 24 hour semi-cama to Santiago, Chile. Semi cama you ask? That means semi reclining seats. The Full cama seats recline all the way back like a bed, are usually upholstered in the finest of materials and are wide enough and long for the most ample amongst us. Semi cama was all they had available for this 24 hour journey. We were also, unfortunately, seated right next to the toilet. The smell was almost unbearable. Many passengers complained and at a convenient stop, 6-8 hours into our journey, they cleaned them. The lack of odour didn't last long however and I was thrilled and ecstatic , nostrils aflair, to arrive in Santiago next morning. We said our goodbyes to Matt and B and took the metro into the city.


[t]


Okay, I know Ingrid writes most of this blog and it seems like I am either off drinking coffee somewhere or taking care of our laundry, but the truth is I am lazy and it takes me forever to get details down on a page. I mean when it comes down to the choice between the smell of fresh clean linens from the local lavanderia or wracking my brain over what we did there is just no contest.

Anyway, while in Santiago we spent a couple of days getting flights arranged down to Punta Arenas and shopping. It was envigorating being in a big city again with all the retail, cultural, and culinary possibilities. We both really liked the feeling of Santiago as we went about the city stocking up on much needed supplies: hair thinning shears, nail brush, new day pack etc.

Strangely enough, while in a pharmacy near our hotel we bumped into Matt and B! This phenomenon of constantly bumping into people you've already met even in area as large as S. America is actually quite common as many people are on extended travel journeys and are often criss-crossing many of the same paths. So, though Matt and B thought they had given us the slip, or "dust off", a term we had coined while in the throws of rap dance Pisco Sour madness while in San Pedro (see video clip), we were all once again re-united and went out to a great little mexican restaurant together before splitting up again the next day.

The early morning flight to Punto Arenas in Patagonia was stunning. We happened to be sitting on the better side of the plane as it paralled the magnificent Andes, flying over the beautiful Lake District. I am not sure Ingrid noticed, however, as she was trying to read a spanish newspaper the entire flight. I think she looked up once when I enthused, "Hey, Ing, look at the orange and blue sun rise over the snow capped Andes. Isn't that Mount Aconcagua, the highest mountain in the western hemispere, standing at 22,834 feet?"


Well, I think I am petering out again....so, over to [i]....


[i]


So, we arrived in Punto Arenas, a windy no restaurant kind of town. Somehow we ended up looking for a place to stay with a young German couple and a limping dog we couldn't shake. Once we settled on a place we found a travel agent and enquired about doing a penguin tour. Thanks to Tracy's precision questioning technique we establish that after the hour bus journey, we will see approximately 35 penguins. We nodded appreciatively in the travel agents and then laughed as soon as we stepped out the door. ¨Thirty five penguins! what a waste of time¨ We decided to do penguins another time and congratulated ourselves on how lucky we were to have avoided another silly tour.

Later in the hostel we talked to an English woman, fresh back from a penguin tour. "How was it?" we smirk. We discover she saw LOTS of penguins on her tour, you know something in the neighbourhood of 35,000! Hmmmph! By this time we had already booked our tickets to Puerto Natales, the gateway town for the Torres del Paine national park the next day. I hate stupid penguins anyhow.... ;)

So, unlike the real, 'authentic' patagonian town of Punto Arenas, Puerto Natales has a lot more to offer tourists. Bijoux chocolate and coffee shops etc, and lots of hiking supply stores. We spent a couple of days renting camping equipment to do the famous 'W' hike in Torres del Paines and painstakingly (thanks Tracy) planning our menu and picking up food supplies. Though we got lost walking to the nearby bus station on the morning we left, after taking a taxi we arrived JUST in time for our 2 hour bus ride to the park entrance.

After 30 minutes faffing about deciding which route to take, we were finally off. We hiked up the first valley (one leg of the "w") and set up our tent at Camp Torres. We hiked up a little more to see the towers (fabby), then arrived back at camp early enough to prepare a smashing meal of rice and smoked bacon and peppers. Yum. The second day we hiked down the valley and along the scenic route beside lake Nordenskjol until we reached a horse trail that led to us finding a fantastic spot to camp. That night was WINDY and the next morning we woke up to light rain. Fortunately, we lazed around long enough for the sun to come up and dry the tent. We then hiked up to Camp Italiano and chose a nice flat spot before setting off up to the top mirador for some stunning views and glacial action. That night for dinner, since we had eaten both pasta meals in hunger the night before, we were forced to get creative. The first few bites of our garlic butter-infused salami parmesan coated oatmeal were surprisingly edible... before the gagging started. The following morning we woke up on waterbed. Our tent was in a pool of water and it was only a matter of time before we drowned in it. We packed up as quickly as possible and practically ran to the next refugio in order to ward off hypothermia. The rain was ceaseless and our rented "waterproofs" held off the rain only for about 10 minutes. When we heard at the refugio that the forecast looked bleak we decided to forget the last leg of the 'W' and be content with a 'U'.

We are now savoring being warm, snug and dry in Puerto Natales.

Bolivia to Chile

Check out our pics: Bolivia_2

[i]

Travel tip: Never conjugate the verb ‘to smell’ out loud in a public space in earshot of the proprietor of the restaurant you're sitting in. We had been analysing our horrible 24 hour bus ride from San Pedro de Atacama in the North of Chile to Santiago and the fact that we would never go on anther bus where we had seats next to the toilets. We were mortified when just after we had recited "we smell, they smell, you plural smell" in spanish, the owner came over and fiddled with the plug-in air freshener...but trying to explain with our fledgling espanol, we both felt, would have landed us even deeper into a world of embarrassment.

Anyway, since [pt], god bless 'er, last wrote, we took a bus from La Paz, Bolivia then a fabulous train to Uyuni. At first it seems a remote nothing kind of place, but T and I really liked it for some reason. We took a walk the first day to the outskirts of town, where the houses are all made of mud, and poked up and down the wasteland/rubbish dump. Bleak but fun.

As we were sitting eating some yummy stall food (carne empanadas with spicy salsa), on a bench in the center of town, Antonie, a fabulous german woman we recognized from the train ride, sat down to say hello. Before we knew it we had booked our tour of the salt flats together. We had been warned not to expect too much from many of the tour companies here, lots of tales of drunk drivers, trucks breaking down, overcrowding, terrible food, being abandoned etc. We had done a bit of research and a lot of peeps reccomended Estrella del Sur. The cool thing about our company was that while other companies visited the Salt Hotel, we actually stayed at it. And the real seller was that while other companies crushed as many people as possible into their 4X4s, Estrella had a maximum of 6. The rep also also went on about how we recieved pancakes and cakes not just bread for breakfast like other companies... Anyway, there were just the three of us so far booked for the next day but Antonie joked that she’d find really fun people to fill up our truck.

Next day we arrive at the office and sure enough Antonie has found a couple of corkers to join us- Matt and Bianca (Kiwi and Aussie) from London. We all seem to get along together immediately, and are happily chatting in the truck awaiting departure. Then the Estrella rep comes in and says there will be another 2 people joining us! But what of the 6 person maximum? ...."They small people." Well, after a lot of gesturing, bad spanish, bad english and me pointing to my thigh length in an unessesarily theatrical manner, we finally compromised with the five of us chipping in to pay for the unused 6th seat.

Despite the awkward beginning, staying not at the salt hotel and never seeing a pancake, we had a brilliant time. The scenery was quite otherwordly and when not snapping pics we had a great time laughing and singing in the truck. Our guide was a good driver and was a great sport, catch his covergirl ad in the video section, once we upload it. Another highlight was checking out the stars at night, so clear from out there. K, all for now, ciao xoxoxoxoxo

Bolivia

Check out our pics: Bolivia

[i]

From Cusco, Peru we headed into Bolivia on the luxury “DIRECT” bus to Copacabana. What direct means is this: the bus leaves at 10pm and drives directly to a fork in the road at some unknown location. Here a guy comes on the bus and shouts out ‘Copacabana’. Confused, four of us grab our belongings and follow him to a waiting minibus. Then we sit and wait. We find out we are waiting to fill the minibus with passengers from the next big “Direct” bus. It is 7am and I am quite desperate to pee. The luxury bus did not have a toilet like the ticket agent said it would and I have been holding it in for the last 5 hours. We ask our guy, Robinson, if we can go to the bathroom while we wait. He kindly asks at a local store. After using one of the contenders for ‘The world’s worst toilet’ we are then ambushed by the pushy owner to buy the contents of her store. Eating is the last thing our minds, but we buy a mango. Once back on the minibus, we reimburse Robinson since he had to pay for us to use the bathroom. We drive to the border where Tracy forks out $100 for being American. I glide into the country and wait with Robinson outside the immigration hut while she is being interrogated. Once she´s done we walk with Robinson until he hails down a local microbus which we crush into until we reach Copacabana. That´s what they mean by direct.

We decide upon arrival that the overcast weather is not ideal for a beach town and decide to hightail it to La Paz. We buy tickets for the special 1:30 pm tourist bus at a travel agent recommended by Robinson. Apparently it is better to wait and go on this bus because it is very comfortable, goes directly to the main bus station in the center of La Paz, and doesn’t stop to pick up passengers. We eat a delicious breakfast at La Cupola overlooking Lake Titicaca and stroll around town catching a local festival involving the blessing of cars. We arrive at the travel agent’s door at 1pm as planned but she doesn’t show up. At 1:25, scared we will miss the 1:30 bus altogether, we head over to the square where all the buses leave. Not quite sure what happened, but when we show our tickets, several people get involved, we end up getting different tickets and sitting on a bus which fills up to the brim. I ask someone if the bus goes to the central bus station. No, it arrives at the cemetery, a place the guidebooks warn you to avoid. This bus collects people all along the route, some of them sitting in the aisles. Suddenly the bus stops at the edge of the lake and everyone starts piling out. After a lot of confusion we deduced we had to take separate boats across the lake and meet up with the bus on the other side.
Finally, we arrive at the cemetery area in La Paz just as the sun is fading. We quickly take a taxi into the center of town and start looking for accommodation. Walking around in the dark breathing hard due to altitude (3,600m!), we quickly decided to just splash out and stay at Hotel Gloria for $43! We managed to catch some British drama on the cable tv from our pristine sheets after our free welcome pisco sour at the hotel bar. Aahhh!

[pt]

Okay, so ‘pt’ means ‘pretending to be tracy’ since she never wants to write the blog, and I don’t want to write the whole thing. Right now she’s watching a DVD with some people in the lounge downstairs at our guest house in La Paz. I really want to get caught up with the blog and tick that off so I feel all up to date. So I will just pretend to be Tracy writing:

Hey guys, Trace here. So, let’s see. We arrived in La Paz and decide to just hang for a few days. I was like totally excited to have the opportunity to search out a new place to do more laundry. I just don’t git why no one here cares about doin’ it right. I mean, it’s like they just show the clothes a basin of cold water and then randomly spray them with old granny talc smell so they appear to have been washed. They don’t separate dark from light clothes, (what’s with that!) so I have to separate them myself and then make Ingrid go to the Lavanderia separately from me with the darks. You have to trick ‘em, it’s the only way to get a decent wash. I dread to think what would happen if I trusted them with my New Zealand lambswool. Some things you just have to do yourself.

After a few days in La Paz we decided to go kick it in the jungle. I was ready for some animal action. So we fly to Rurrenabaque this cute little town only a couple hundred feet above sea level at the edge of the Madidi National Park. It like totally blew my mind how much the environment could change in a 45 minute flight. We left La Paz wearing our down jackets, puffing at the slightest exertion due to altitude and constantly applying lip balm to ward off dry chapped lips (Easy, Breezy, Cover Girl), yet when we arrive in Rurre on the little grass runway we are blasted with hot, humid, thick and sultry air. We met a real nice couple on the plane, Siobhan and Epi, from the UK and US respectively, and they happened to be going to the lodge we wanted to check out. After visiting the office in Rurre, we decided to go for it. The next morning the four of us were taken up the Beni and then Tuichi river for five hours to the Ecolodge Chalalan. We stopped at one point for lunch on a beachy part of the river where we like saw some kind of big snake. Unfortunately, as I was crouching intently and inching towards the snake to get a good look, I was unaware that my legs were being bitten alive by SANDBUGS. I don’t know if you guys out there have ever been bitten by these seemingly harmless-looking creatures, but if you haven’t, imagine being bitten by a mosquito 10 times on the same spot, well that’s what it feels like. The itching lasts for d…a…y…s!

Anyway, when we arrive at Chalalan after a brisk half hour walk from the river we are greeted with some bitchin' cold glasses of lemon grass juice and are shown to our jungle cabins. The location is quite idyllic, next to a beautiful lake. That afternoon our guide, Giovani, takes us on the first of many jungle hikes. It is sweaty, buggy and like totally uncomfortable, but Giovani knows his stuff. We see four types of monkeys, a few poisonous frogs, a mini possum, birds and other animaly stuff. A highlight for me was our night canoe trip out on the lake. It was so tranquil being out there in the dark with just the sound of the oars dipping into the water and the calls of the animals around us.

Chalalan totally screwed up with Epi and Siobhans reservations and so it was a bummer that they ended up leaving on the third day. We had a blast with them though. On our last day it was just me, Ing and Giovani. We hiked to a view point, telling him along the way that we didn’t want to stop. Giovani is a birder, bless him, and could quite happily spend 25 minutes in the same spot staring at foliage. Perhaps we could too in some other climate, but not when being bitten alive by mosquitos while your clothes stick to your hot itchy skin. We also decided to skip the full length hike to spend a little more time swimming in the lake. I mean, when you've seen one Capuccino monkey you've seen 'em all.
The last night was the Goodbye Dinner, which coincided with a Welcome Dinner for a bunch of new arrivals. We chewed coca leaves after thanking the gods and washed down the taste with some complimentary coconut-based alcohol. People were in high spirits and it could have been a long fun night. But then the compulsory boy-girl dancing to traditional pan flute music started. After both Ing and I danced with Giovani and another guide, we made our exit.

The next morning, after some miscommunication, (clearly not mine) we realize, after some precision questioning on my part, that the boat we were supposed to leave on might have already left! I hustle Ing into action and we sprint with full backpacks on a mile down the trail to the river, leaving Giovani “just wait a minute while I change my shoes, please” in the dust. Towards the end of the trail Ing hears a boat engine. So I start to make loud-pitched highly interesting animal sounds, thinking that the boat will stop in curiosity. We arrive at the river just after the boat has taken off, but one of the Chalalan guys at the river bank shouts for the boat to return. Phew! We arrive in Rurre early enough to get to the airline offices, but there are no spaces on any flights for 3 days. Fortunately, chillin in Rurre gives me the chance to catch up with some hi-priority laundry and wash the jungle out of my jeans. We spent the next couple of days scratching our bites, sampling the local cuisine and strolling round the friendly town.

We arrived back in La Paz and were fortunate enough to get our old room back at Arthy’s Guesthouse where we feel quite at home. So then, like two days ago we go for a mountain bike ride with Gravity Assisted. They take you up to the top of this totally high mountain and you cycle down ‘the most dangerous road in the world'. It's a wholenuther experience! You go from freezing to tropical in a matter of hours. It was truly exhilarating. Especially the last half which was unpaved and potentially dangerous. One young guy in our group broke his finger and cut himself up when he careened into the cliff and had to go to hospital. I think we all reduced our speed a little after seeing his bent finger and the shocked look on his face. Our group was really fun though and we had quite a few laughs despite being completely drenched and muddy. On top of all the rain there were a couple of points where we had to ride underneath waterfalls. Meals included, free beer and T shirt, lots of great exercise! Fantastic day. (Ingrid was really excellent; I wish I could cycle with her style and panache and I love how she wears her helmet!).

We thought we would stay a night in Coroico, however, the lodge where we showered and ate with our bike group after our ride had SANDBUGS, so we decided to go back to the cool of La Paz. There was no room at Arthy’s when we got back that night but Rueben, the owner, was kind enough to keep our heavier bags and take care of our wet shoes. We got a take out meal of cheese and spicy beef empanadas (pastry pie things) and checked into our old Hotel Gloria for a luxury night of cable tv and comfort. We made the most of our complimentary breakfast the next day and hung out in the room until one minute to check out at 1pm.

Today we went to the La Paz zoo and were lucky enough to get there for the 10 am feeding. We headed straight for the jaguars and lions and they went crazy when the big slabs of meat finally arrived. The zoo is a bit tattered but is great for animal and people watching and it had a really welcoming vibe. To top off an awesome day, we had the BEST meal in a long time: the vegetarian sampler at a Lebanese joint hidden upstairs off a street in the backpackers section. SO tasty! We are going there tomorrow night…

Total hasta luego amigos biatches!

[i]

I can’t believe it. This is LIVE, this is REAL time. Finally we are caught up with the blog! I just can't thank Tracy enough for all the effort she put in.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

Peru

Check out our pics: Peru

[i]

After much deliberation in Guatemala about where to go next, we finally decided to go straight to Peru. We landed in Lima, and stayed there long enough to appreciate the outdoor cafés in the posh part of the city and try the ceviche and Pisco Sours that Peru is famous for. From there we took the bus to Paracas, the "Porpoise Spit" of Peru (see film Murial’s Wedding), where we stayed at a massively overpriced and unfriendly hotel arranged by a tour operator in Lima, let´s call her Ms. CC (complete cow). Our conversation with the young and breezy Ms. CC (recommended by hotel) went something like this:

Ing and T: Buenos Dias. Habla usted Ingles?

Ms CC: Yes, just a leetle.

IT: Oh good, we’d like two one way tickets to Ica, please. Leaving tomorrow if possible.

Ms CC: I theenk this no problem. How many days you spend in Ica?

IT: Um, one or two I guess. We’d like to do the sand boarding we read about.

Ms CC: No problem, yes very fun. You will love it. I can recommend you very nice hotel. (That my cousin owns, right next to the highway, half an hour from where you want to be, the room he’ll give you has no windows and a shower that doesn’t work, all for 6 times normal price, plus you’ll have to rent a taxi to get to the sand boarding place, or if you’re completely gullible you’ll pay for my cousin’s ‘tour’ which will include the sand boarding, plus transportation at 10 times the actual cost.)

IT: Oh, that’s great. What’s the name of the hotel?

Ms CC: Don’t worry, I write everything down for you. Where you going after Ica?

IT: Em, we’re not sure yet, we’re heading to Cusco, what would you recommend?

Ms CC: (OMG, like you guys are just total idiots, chu-ching! When they leave I take break and buy those orange shoes!) Well, of course Nasca for seeing the Nasca lines by plane. Very interesting.

IT: Have you done the plane ride?

Ms CC: Not yet, but I really, really want to. It so mysterious and I have friends and other people who go and say the plane goes from side to side a lot and they say wow it like crazy experience.

IT: Hmmm.

Ms CC: You also like Paracas. I recommend. I there only one month and a half before. I recommend you stay at Paracas 2 nights. You be crazy to miss.


The first room in the Paracas hotel we were shown had no windows, and since we had already, stupidly, already paid four times the actual price to Ms. CC in Lima, we were stuck at this hotel, and the town, for two nights. We managed to change our room but although the new room had access to natural light, it was like sleeping inside an ashtray in a brothel (I imagine). Fortunately, the tour to the Ballestas Islands was really good. Lots of wild life, pelicans, seal colony etc. From there we headed to Ica, still part of the ‘tour’ we had paid for in Lima. Basically, Ms. CC had bought our bus tickets and hotels and tours in advance, overcharged us and pocketed the extra 80%. We still had to arrange and pay for the connecting taxi rides to and from the hotels and argue for breakfasts that were supposed to be included.

Fortunately, our next stop the Hotel Huacuchina, Ica, was not built on a highway overlooking a garbage dump or a sewage plant like we had feared, but was a fabulous hotel in a real desert oasis. We did a little bit of sand boarding and a buggy ride over the dunes and hung out by the pool. It was Really fun.

From there we went to Arequipa, a lovely old colonial city, where many of the buildings are made from white volcanic rock. We took a tour to the Colca Canyon which was quite spectacular. Saw condors in flight and had a great time in the picturesque little village of Chivay where the locals were very friendly.

 

[t]

Sitting atop the very friendly El Caminante Class inn in Arequipa, Peru, three rooftops over from the Santa Catalina convent and a few blocks away from the Plaza de Armas, I begin another episode of our journey. Ingrid sits in a lounge chair beside me reading the last few pages of her latest novel, weak from several days of serious bathroom issues, coupled with mild altitude sickness from a recent trip to the Colca Canyons at an elevation of 4,900 meters. Arequipa rests at 2,300 meters.

While waiting for my delicate flower to regain her strength, we decided to chill our heels here for a few days to catch up on things like laundry, the blog, and shopping. We had plans to leave early this morning for a small town on the border of Peru and Bolivia, but decided to forfeit our bus tickets and do the sensible thing. It’s a funny thing when Ingrid gets ill. While I will crawl into a fetal position at the slightest hint of an ailment, Ingrid may go on for days hemorrhaging internally without my knowledge. Even if I do know that something is wrong asking her questions like, “How do you feel?”, or “Are you okay?” won’t guarantee a very fruitful response. After 16 years I’ve learned that I must employ precision questioning tactics to get a feel for what is going on. Questions like, “On a scale of 1-10…”, or “Is it a dull pain like you’ve bumped into something made of rubber, or is more like being bitten by a shark?

Anyway, I am really quite happy to be in Arequipa a bit longer. It is so far my favorite Peruvian city and I can’t wait to explore it more over the next several days. The owners of our inn have been so sweet to us too. This morning one of the staff members asked if we wanted a better room, one with an attached bathroom for the same price because they “understood”. We both giggled as I graciously accepted and proceeded to move us into a beautiful room that opens up externally above the street and also internally onto a courtyard where breakfast is served every morning. It comes with a TV, hot water, and above all, is clean, a combination that is tough to find, even in the “good” hotels.

Checking into new hotels and hostels, or asking travel agencies and tour companies questions before making a decision is a tricky thing here in the developing world. One can never assume anything. And the amount of money that you are prepared to shell out doesn’t always correlate with the standard of accommodation, tour, or service you will receive. So, back to that precision questioning tactic, one must really think of ALL the questions beforehand. For example, we really wish we had asked some of the following questions:

- “Does the 7:30 bus leave at 10:30?”
- “Does the toilet in the room have a seat?”
- “What are the extras that we have to pay for in the “All inclusive tour”?
- “Does the lagoon we are going to visit have water in it?”
- “Were the ancient ruins you talk of built in 1989?”
- “Does the museum contain real works of interest or is it a bunch of shit banged up on the wall?”

After Arequipa we headed to Cusco for a couple of days before taking the train to Machu Picchu. The highlights were exploring the ruins and playing with the llamas, climbing tourist free Mount Putukusi across from Machu Picchu, and enjoying a fantastic meal at the French restaurant Indio Felize.

We are now in La Paz, Bolivia for a few days chilling out and figuring out what to do next. Keep the emails coming! We love hearing from you.

Guatemala: Lake Atitlan, Tikal and Antigua

Check out our pics: Guatemala_Lake Atitlan_Tikal

[it]

Trip to Lake Atitlan

Based on many recommendations, San Marcos, one of the many villages along the shores of Lake Atitlan, was the place to practice yoga and pursue spiritual development against an amazing backdrop: a large clear blue lake beneath several towering volcanoes.

We set off for the five-hour “two-hour” bus ride to San Marcos along with 18 other passengers in a mini van built for twelve. Having several extra hours at our disposal, sitting in various positions of discomfort we had time to contemplate the importance of choosing one’s seat for long journeys in this ubiquitous form of transportation. (see figure 1. below)



The majority of seats come with no leg room and no seatbelt as standard. Two of these seats are next to windows where you can at least breathe fresh air. Considering leg room, there are three seats behind the driver, two of which have a hair more room if you don’t mind resting your feet above your waist, and one with a lot more room but at the cost of a metal pole as a back support. Finally, the two front seats next to the driver come with leg room, the only two seatbelts, fresh air, and a good view. However, if you choose either of these options, in the event of a head-on collision you will be killed instantly (if not from the on-coming vehicle, then by the 15 human missiles behind you).


[i]

When we weren’t thinking about seat choice we were thinking about ways to keep the driver awake. Fifteen minutes into our journey Tracy turns to me and mouths “How do you say ‘WAKE UP immediately, you’ll KILL US ALL’ in Spanish?” After hours of intense back seat driving, with Tracy on amber alert, monitoring the driver’s every eyelid move, we finally arrive in San Marcos in the dark. Fortunately we find a lovely clean room with adjoining bathroom within 5 minutes of arrival. It cost more per night than our budget, but we decided to create a “first night” rule. (first night anywhere doesn’t need to be within budget). The only teensy negative was the giant spider on the shower wall and the slight electrocution I received upon touching the shower head. Then we decided to venture out to find a restaurant. Even though the winding paths leading down to the lake were unlit and we navigated by headlamp, Tracy could already tell that this place was ‘magical’. After bumping around in the dark we find a lovely restaurant owned by a guy with a French accent. The same guy that checked us into our room… we had somehow, in our circuitous route, come back to our hotel. Anyway, we felt pretty happy with ourselves having secured a place to stay, a non-cold shower and a lovely, cozy, fire lit restaurant. As we sipped our margaritas I couldn’t help overhearing the following snippets of the conversations around us:

“So, are you here to travel spiritually, or are you just spiritual and here traveling?”

“I believe there were 2 Jesus’ and 2 Mary’s”

“I simply ask the Universe”

“There ARE no real dogs in the States, man, sure, they LOOK like dogs, but they’re not living a dog lifestyle.”

The next morning, we went to enquire about yoga classes. We were quite excited about finally getting some down dog action, but our enthusiasm was gradually quashed in our attempts to find a class. While Tracy was teaching the locals how to make her coffee, I happened to spy a yoga class in ‘action’ in a nearby garden. From my position behind a giant leaf it was clear to me that this was no Ashtanga yoga (where you actually move your body). This was ‘hold-a-serious-face-for-as-long-as-you-can” yoga. Still, undaunted, after Tracy was caffeinated, we set off for the Pyramid garden to find another yoga class. There was a notice board with info about different classes, but nothing about yoga. I decided to ask the human being sitting on a bench nearby. She looked at me like I had shit on her foot, but reluctantly looked up from her novel long enough to inform us we needed to go to the Pyramid Meditation building across the path. We arrived there just as a meditation class was coming out. Clearly our timing was bad, after so much self-absorption I think they found it difficult to relate to others. My smile felt very out of place. One of the teachers finally acknowledged our presence and explained to us that the yoga classes were part of a much bigger spiritual picture and proceeded to make us feel like trolls for only having asked about the yoga part of it. We decided it wasn’t for us.

After having scoped out the entire village, we decided to take a boat to San Pedro across the water. We went directly to a travel agent to find out about climbing the Volcano. We arranged a guide for the following day. When we arrived the next day, there was no one to meet us. However, an older gentleman with highly polished shoes was keen to take our voucher and pretended to be our guide. Unfortunately, he was unable to keep up with us and frequently suggested we take a taxi to the park entrance. Finally, on the verge of a heart attack, he called out to us to stop walking and said if we paid him a tip he could arrange for another guide at the park entrance. Since it is highly recommended not to go off the beaten track anywhere in Guatemala without security or a guide, and it was clear he would never make it to the top, we agreed.

At the park entrance we met our tattooed, gold toothed, machete-wielding guide and he immediately informed us that if we didn't make it to the top that would be fine. He stopped every five minutes to tell us how poor the people were in the area and how he struggled to pay for school books for his kids. He reiterated that tourists find it hard to make it to the top of the volcano because they are used to sitting in offices all day. I really wanted to go to the top, but the effects of altitude along with a serious dose of ‘traveler’s issues’ had left me with the energy of a wilted celery stick, so to his delight we only made it half way. We returned pronto to Antigua to arrange our next trip.


Trip to Mayan ruins of Tikal

Took the ‘luxury’ overnight bus to Tikal. Nothing eventful. Tracy broke her rib falling back onto the hard plastic arm rest. Arrived in Flores before sunrise and took a tuk tuk to a guest house recommended by lonely planet. Travel Tip: Never agree to take a room in the dark. On daylight inspection it was effing manky (horribly dirty), to use a Scottish term. We left as soon as we could for the Tikal ruins. When we returned we booked into another hotel and we were almost crying with delight over the 600 count sheets and the towels and the little soaps and the real, not electrocution type, hot shower. The room almost became the highlight of our trip... but not quite. Tikal was wonderful. Not just for the ruins themselves, but for the jungle setting and all the animals we saw. There weren’t many tourists there at all and we often had the place to ourselves, well, us and the howler monkeys etc. It felt great to be out in nature and surrounded by beauty.


More faffing about in Antigua

Back in Antigua we attempted to plan our trip. “What do you want to do?” “I don’t know, what do you want to do?” I would read the Danger and Annoyances sections and scan the lists of crappy accommodations in Lonely Planet and not want to go anywhere but Paris or some kind of gated resort. Tracy researched online, ‘Hey Ing, we can live in the jungle for two weeks with this alcoholic guy and see all SORTS of animals, we’d just have to pick up sleeping bags and a vat of bug repellent, doesn’t that sound awesome?” Planning can be very tiring.

Fortunately we also managed to squeeze a bit of culture into our days, by going to many of the museums in Antigua. One of the funnier moments was when we visited a workshop where they were in the process of restoring old paintings. Suddenly Tracy became enlivened and from nowhere pulled out enough Spanish to declare that "Oh, yeah I can see that the original skin color is a reddish hue, whereas you have painted with a much yellower tone". I tried my best to repair the damage by quickly pointing to another painting across the room and making some random comment.

Probably the most interesting site we visited was Las Cappucinas, the ruins of a nunnery. There was a cool white room like the inside of a shell that the nuns used to sing in, which had really fun acoustics. I only tested out the sound with a couple of “ooohs” as there were other tourists there at the time. I really wanted to stay until we were alone to hear what “The Wind Beneath My Wings” sounded like in this space. However, Tracy, my intended audience, had already read my mind and had escaped the room. I eventually found her in the nun’s sleeping quarters. These consisted of about 19 rooms in a concentric arrangement around a center circle. Perhaps as a result of her real estate days, Tracy had gone into every one of them approximating square footage and gauging how well appointed each room was for light and view of the garden. She was quite firm on which room was the best and was prepared to sell it to me by the time I caught up with her.

From Antigua we went to Guatemala City and flew to Lima, Peru....

Guatemala: Uno!

Check out our pics: Guatemala 1

[i ]
Bienvenido!

Okay, after in-depth analysis, Tracy and I have realized that neither of us really wants to take responsibility for writing this blog. So we have decided to split the task squarely down the middle. Paragraphs written by me, Ingrid, will begin with a cute little ‘i’. Paragraphs preceded by a lumbering, awkward ‘t’, will be written by Tracy. Collaborations will start with ‘it’. Isn’t that adorable!?

P.S. Special thanks to Tammy, Anna, and Sophie for driving us to the airport on Christmas Eve. Unbridled gratitude towards Megan and Aly for providing first class accommodation and transport while in Seattle, the Chris’ for telephone service, and Beth and Mary for another set of wheels. And thanks to those we managed to see for making themselves available at such short notice. Sorry if we didn’t get the chance to see you.

Over to you, T!

[t]
Well, we got off with a rocky start by choosing to spend Christmas Eve in a series of airports until 1 am when we, and a handful of tired and somber passengers, finally left LAX. Call me naive but I kind of half expected the people of Air Taca to do something special that evening, you know like roll a marimba out into the aisle or something and sing a round of Feliz Navidad. But no, the flight was just as dull as most are, and early that morning we flew into the crowded and dusty Guatemala City without fanfare. Christmas day was tainted by fear and apprehension at both being in a new foreign city and by the myriad of reminders from the guest house managers, Kaf and Victor, to BE SURE to be back in the guest house before sundown. Adding that, “Bad things happen in this city mostly under the cover of darkness and you’d be best to be behind these walls before 7 pm.” The word “mostly” didn’t fail to escape my attention, and with that we spent the next three days somewhat nervously. We must have looked pinched faced and uptight to most of the city dwellers any time we were caught wandering the streets.

But as is the human condition,we can get used to just about anything, and by day 3 we were starting to feel a little bolder and adventurous and wanting to explore the city beyond a one and a half block radius. So, with instruction and guidance from Kaf and Victor, we carefully scripted a day around the city, taking first a bus to the National Palace, then a stroll in an open market, some lunch along the way, and finally a taxi to a couple of art museums, heading back to the guest house just before the last rays of sun vanished. The plan was good and spirits were high as we set off. Over to you, Ing

[i]
K, basically we had a great day until I left my wallet stuffed with dollars in a taxi and, penniless, we had to hoof it back to our hostel in the dark. In a very bad mood, rigid with anger, I walked at least three strides ahead of Tracy, desperately trying to blame her for the whole incident. Anyway, moving on…

From Guatemala City we went to Antigua, where we have spent the last couple of weeks studying Spanish. Our last class was today and we are both excited to be free! Though four hours a day of one-to-one classes might sound like a blast, after the first week we were both a little conjugated out. Tracy, however, had the foresight to negotiate starting her lessons half an hour late so she could enjoy her latte across the street, and she ended a half hour early in order to “absorb the day’s lesson”! She liked at this time to grab my attention by waving at me from her spot in the sun next to the fountain in the courtyard. I would pretend not to notice her as I reluctantly grasped for the right verb ending. Tracy has now graduated from pointing (like in Spain this summer) to full sentences such as “I like horse”. On the other hand, I, having wholeheartedly delved into language acquisition with gusto, can now use my Spanish in any situation. For example, only yesterday I was able to communicate the following: “Are this clothing use the brightening thing? We no want. Last laundry cloth we giving to you is become like white.”

Antigua is very pretty with views of three volcanoes and old colonial architecture, and it is a pleasure just walking in the streets. The people here are very friendly and are very helpful and patient with our mutant Spanish. No one here is pushy in the slightest, not even the street vendors in the market. Though there are a lot of beautiful indigenous Mayans here in traditional clothing, you may notice we haven’t taken any pics of them yet. We were told they don’t like having their photo taken. My like, totally main concern is like, how on earth will they be able to enter Guatemala’s Next Top Model?

Anyhow, we are having a wonderful time here. We have been meeting lots of new people, though mostly very briefly since everyone is always on the move. We experienced an earthquake last week, big enough to make the news. We have battled with bed bugs, endured countless power outages (Guatemala is currently working on its national grid), and coped with cold showers and frequent water outages. Somehow that is all part of the charm. At New Year, we laughed hysterically as we ran to avoid first degree burns from getting too near the ‘running bull’ (a man with a crate strapped to his back loaded with exploding fireworks). Most recently, we hiked to the lava beds on the active volcano, Pacaya. That was, like, way cool!

[It]
We hope to leave Antigua on Tuesday (15th) to travel around Guatemala and use our brilliant Spanish while it’s still hot… Hasta luego amigos!

Love to you all xxx