Cafayette-Argentina

On our way down to Cordoba we stopped at Cafayate for a couple of days, a pretty little town in the heart of the northern vineyards of Argentina. We ended up going wine tasting in the morning (very decadent before 12pm!) and then in the afternoon went trekking in the surrounding countryside where the rocks have incredible layers of color in them due to some quirk of nature that our guide explained in detail but our

Spanish really wasn´t up to. We've seen so many natural beautiful things in our travels so far, ranging from the huge crumpled mountainous Andes to the smallest details in the tones and hues of the rocks and plants surrounding us that it makes you wonder at the artist who created them; or at least appreciate the gift of being able to enjoy beauty. Without it, life would indeed be extraordinarily grey....

Salta - Argentina

We arrived into Argentina from Bolivia on one of the biggest shiniest buses we've ever been on, ever! The quality of the transport though was only the start of it, as when we pulled into the bus station we were greeted with not only a large clean modern building but also actual cafes and a taxi rank full of official taxis with proper signs, meters n everything! The city center streets here are full of shops fulls of luxury goods and teenagers with their noses pressed against the windows eagerly coveting the latest designer clothes. New modern cars made by Renault, Ford and other major manufactures buzz around the streets as people go around their business in smart business suits and fashionable clothes. In the restaurants and cafes we are now just another customer amongst the Argentinian middle classes who fill them for weekend brunches and cups of amazingly good coffee. The contrast to the dirty city streets of Bolivia with it´s street black markets, rusting cars and gringo (foreigner) filled restaurants is vivid. We have moved from one of the poorest South American countries to one of the most developed and while both have had political and social problems throughout their history it's hard to put a finger on one reason why Argentina has thrived whilst Bolivia still finds it's self in political turmoil and poverty despite it's huge wealth of valuable natural resources.

One thing is certain though, Argentina certainly has thrived and Salta looks and feels just like any large European provincial city. Yesterday the whole country celebrated Argentina's Independence and formation of their first government in 1810. The president herself (the 2nd female president in Argentina's history) visited Salta to lead the celebrations and a thoroughly patriotic time was had by all! Speaking of partying we are currently trying to get used to the Argentinian way of doing things. Over here it seems no one goes out to eat dinner (and no where is open) until at least 10pm and the hip young party people don't venture out to the bars and nightspots until at least midnight. However everybody seems to be at work the next day at 8:30am only to then close up the ENTIRE town from 1pm-4:30pm for an afternoon siesta. Our body clocks are currently trying to adjust so that we're not too tired to go out at night or too awake during the day when everyone else is asleep. Is it just me, or am I really getting old?

Leaving Bolivia

Who knew how time flies. Yesterday morning we arrived on a night bus at our final destination on this trip: Argentina. We are now in the northern city of Salta, our heads somewhat spinning from the enormous difference already apparent between here and Bolivia, where we spent the whole of the past month.

On our last day in Bolivia, we took a gorgeous hike in the cactus-studded canyons around Tupiza after our hardcore week of jeep adventuring and got to reflect on the country we were leaving behind. I feel like we experienced a great cross-section of Bolivia; we navigated the teeming streets of La Paz during a political referendum, camped on the riverbed in the Amazon basin, crawled into the mines of Potosí, witnessed the extreme simplicity of rural life, and watched the sun rise over the world´s largest salt flat.

The country is at once breathtakingly beautiful and heartbreakingly unfortunate. Consistently poor political management after years of greedy colonization means that the country, so rich in natural resources, has not been able to reap the benefits of its situation and as a result the day to day life of the vast majority of its inhabitants consists of little more than getting by.

The people of Bolivia are warm but also very direct, and I have never witnessed such hard workers as the people of this country, always without complaint. There is hardly ever a superfluous ingredient to life in Bolivia - rarely did we come across any level of luxury or frivolity (outside of the major cities). The only paint on the mud-brick houses consists of political opinion, and I left Bolivia extremely humbled at the stark contrast between the quality of life of the Bolivian compared with my own expectations and hopes of what my future will consist of. It´s great when your surroundings cause you to step outside of your own skin, and I think I´ll be thinking on these things for a while to come. Bye for now, Bolivia.

The Travelling Heirarchy

One thing you quickly recognise when travelling are the different types travellers accompanying you around the standard South American ports of tourist call. At one end of the scale you have your wannabe hippies - generally drop-outs of life and clothed in the baggy stripy trousers known locally as 'happy pants'. They seem to have 'settled' in a peaceful town making a living out of selling homemade jewelry, keep the local pot dealers in business and for some reason like to own puppies.

Next along you have the 'restless mid life crisis' traveller who, in the absence of a family or any more unrealised ambitions, packs it all in and disappears around the world for a year or so. These travellers are harmless and generally quite interesting though the 'been there done that' arguments you get when you put two of them in close proximity can be tiring.

The category that I think we place ourselves in is the 'we just want to be at one with you' category, eager to interact with the natives and be absorbed in the culture. We have met many wonderful people along the way who have embraced this philosophy including for some reason a lot of med students burnt out by school and taking time out to explore a use for their skills. We are of course the best and look down upon all the other travelling species.

Then there are the tour buses, large groups of middle aged people doing the tours in style and comfort. The buses tend to pick them up at their nice and sanitary 3 star hotel and drop them at the gates of the tourist traps with the minimal amount of interaction with anything in between. Both me and Millay agree that our biggest fear about getting old is not that we'll end up in a wheelchair or incontinent...... but in a tour bus.

Finally you have the bane of our lives which is the 'rich kids on tour' genus. Generally speaking these are gap year students just turned 18 with a mental age half of that on their passport. Usually named Alfred, Rupert or Lottie, South America for them is one big cheap beery night out with even cheaper drugs, you find them bouncing between the ex-pat western bars in the various major cities proclaiming various thinly veiled racist views about the locals and working out how to get more money off Daddy. Sad thing is that these are the people who will probably be running the country in 10 years time - you have been warned!

Jungle Pictures

Piranas, trees, rivers, and sore feet!!

La Paz take 2

Well we made it back to La Paz early this morning on what ended up being a 19-hour, bumpy, slightly perilous bus journey that rose a full 3,500 m from start to finish. Needless to say we were a teensy bit chilly when we arrived...

Having left the humid jungle behind us we are back at our crash pad, the ever-bustling Cactus Hostel, to see some more of La Paz. Though the offical capital is still Sucre, La Paz very much is the de facto capital of Bolivia and definitely behaves as such. Its like New York with much less structure. Few discernable road rules, throngs of markets, museums, etc. Gear shift from the jungle life!

We are staying in the witches market area (above). Its not so much cauldrons as every imaginable herb, tea, talisman and even dried up baby llama fetuses (spot them?) - all to bring you some sort of luck or health. Fortune tellers read coca tea leaves or tarot cards on the streets to passers by. We are also right in the middle of the main artesan area; no doubt I won´t escape without some knitted somethingorother by the end of the weekend!

Today I discovered the heavenly properties of Bolivian salteñas, small empanadas sold in stalls on the street filled with meaty/chickeny/vegetably goodness. I´m hooked, while Andy laments my fate for eating food from the street :)

La Paz and beyond...

As our bus wound its way into La Paz from Lake Titicaca Millay worked out that when she did her parachute jump in New Zealand a few years ago it was from a LOWER altitude than the one at which we currently stand. We´re currently 3,800m (that´s 12,500ft) above sea level and trekking around this steep hilly city is a constantly breathless experience.

As it turns out though this time we´re just passing through, we´ve managed to find a jungle trip that is going to take us tomorrow by boat deep into the Amazon Basin. We signed up eager for the adventure that will take 3 days and involve camping in the jungle for 2 nights. It was only after we´d handed over our money that the reality began to sink in and we started to wonder what we had gotten ourselves in for. In this part of the world ´boat´ could mean anything from a pre-war rust bucket to a raft; my Spanish wasn't good enough to enquire about the existence of a motor. The one thing Millay did discover was that it definitely doesn't have a toilet, I don´t think we've ever prayed so hard for ´good health´ if you know what I mean.

Still if we survive the trip down there the town we´ll stay in for a couple of days, Rurrenabaque, should be gorgeous and chilled. The other slight adventure is that is that the only way back to La Paz USED to be (our mothers - notice the USED) via what was officially recognised as the "world´s most dangerous road". Apparently drunk driving, a 3.2m wide mountain road and 600m drops wasn't conducive to a happy driving experience. Luckily, thanks to a huge international development grant, a new road has now been built that is apparently a lot safer and the old road is now restricted solely to hiking and mountain bike tours that are advertised everywhere as ´ride the road of death´. Don´t worry Donna, I've got Millay on a short leash on this one!

If Batman was Peruvian - this would be his Batmobile

Goodbye Peru! We´re leaving for the sunny mountains of Boliva. You have left us with many memories :-)

Despite our best efforts ( last week I ate Alpaca - only learning afterwards that this is a type of llama) we are both well. Millay is speaking Spanish like a local, and I am speaking Spanish like a stupid white gringo.

All in all, life is good....

Cusco

High up here in the Andes mountains it seems like life back in New York never even existed. The stresses of running around on the subway seem to pale in comparison to the taxis and buses here that fly down Peruvian hillsides favoring their horns over their brakes. The huge wide expanses of Broadway and the Avenues with their 6 lanes of traffic seem a distant memory compared to the tiny streets and alleys of colonial Cusco where mini Japanese cars the size of the average American hot dog stand squeeze through while locals and tourists hug the walls either side to avoid being squashed. Incidentally the only car here apart from the mini Japanese ones are Volkswagon Beatles that apparently got shipped over here when they were too trashed for European use to act as the official taxis. Who knew?!

Cusco is set in the stunning surroundings of the Andes mountains, where ever you look there are huge green peaks towering in the distance tethering puffy clouds like large white zeppelins. This is one of the main Peru tourist hotspots where nearly everyone stops off on the way to Machu Picchu and therefore the population is a funny mix of locals in traditional dress selling wares and photos of them clutching Llamas and the ubiquitous white tourists clutching cameras, spending dollars and keeping the city ticking over. The city has embraced tourism wholeheartedly and while the buildings and architecture still looks authentically Peruvian behind most of the doors in the city center now are small bars and restaurants of every shape and taste. It's almost like having NY´s West Village with it´s buzz and variety transported directly into the Peruvian mountains.

There are still moments of genuine local culture though that remind you that you are indeed somewhere very special and different to our western homes. For the last two days the local police force has been holding marching competitions for all the local schools in the main square. As the chiefs of police all sit underneath the shadow of the Cathedral and the local army band plays rousing tunes, about 30 strong teams from the local schools march past in military formation holding white sticks symbolising swords and flags. Unfortunately the national ´march´involves kicking your feet up high in a way not too dissimilar to the German goose step leading to the odd sight of kids ranging from about 7 through to 14 seeming to be doing a shambolic reenactment of the Nuremberg rally. While the historical echos may be unfortunate it was though thoroughly heartwarming to see a community get so much joy and pride out of such a simple thing. To see the concentration on the kids faces and their desperate efforts not to let their school or friends down by losing time or rhythm was an awesome reminder how distant our home communities and kids have come from these Innocent times where personal image or fashion is´nt as important as the local community traditions.

My turn....

The long goodbye is over and it’s finally time to strap on the backpack and head out to South America. There have been many times I’ve wondered over the last week whist I’ve been frantically packing, struggling with huge boxes up and down stairs and cleaning our apartment with the fervour of a medieval serving wench - where is my newly minted wife? Luckily I’ve been able to keep up to date with her fun and frolics in the beautiful city of Cusco and surrounding adventure sport spots via this blog as I on the other hand, in contrast, clean up our now desolate apartment and eat bad takeaway food because we don’t have any plates left. I forget now why this arrangement seemed like such a good idea at the time we agreed to it but needless to say it’s now definitely feeling good to be done with all the ‘things to do’ and head out for some fun and frolics of my own. 

I’ve just received an email from the Peruvian airline that I’m taking for the last leg of my trip that is entirely in Spanish which of course is complete gibberish to me (maybe that was why sending Millay to language school early seemed like such a good idea) I’m assuming it says “we’re looking forward to spiriting you away on our airline, we like you so much maybe you would like to fly first class?” and not “ha ha, now you are ours, we cancel all flights until February!”. We shall see….