Columbia Unscathed . . . Almost

Well, nine days and five flights later, we’re finally approaching Quito In Ecuador. It was something of a relief to step off the plane from Cartagena in Bogota as the humidity had ensured that not a piece of clothing had escaped the first nine days unworn and in many cases more than a little the worse for wear.

Writing this entry also offers me the chance to summarise what we’ve been up to over the start of our travels, as well as escape, albeit certainly only temporarily, from Siobhán’s current favoured brand of torture, attempting to have me name which city is from which South American country. I fully accept my failure of geographical knowledge to the point that would make a toddler blush, yet this does nothing to dissuade Siobhán from unleashing the full force of her displeasure at my stupidity as I take a third or even forth stumbling guess at which country Medelin may be in (anybody?); still it keeps her amused and that is, after all, the most important thing.

So let’s get to a little break down of our time in Columbia. I have previously regaled you of our ill feted attempt to make it to Isla del Pirata, so will say no more of the event and move straight into our second day in Cartagena which was largely spent lounging by the hotel pool interspersed with only the occasional venture outside the hotels walls to find sustenance.

Having felt the first and second days were a little wasted we needed to get out and see the sights and so it was we decided to go to the Cathedral de la Popa a monestary (although they call it a convent) 150m above the town on a little hill. We packed a back pack and set off to walk through the main town. At 09:00 it already seemed like we were walking through a very humid version of hell and were extremely hot and rather damp by the time we reached the hill, about 1.5 miles away. We were reliably informed by a little old lady near the bottom of the hill that it was not safe to walk up and that we would likely be shot or stabbed . . . something of a common theme as far as we can tell with little hills in South American cities that have religious destinations on top!

Whilst the cynical amongst you may feel it is convenient she had a friend to take us to the top of the hill for a small fee, I won’t hear a word said against her and so it was that we ventured to the top of the hill with a little assistance, something I think both of us were probably glad about given the heat, even if slightly unsure as to how dangerous the trip genuinely was. The monestary provided stunning views across Cartagena and the surrounding area and following a little guided tour we made our way by taxi back to the hotel.

The following two days, as anyone who knows me well will a-test, were the highlight, as we got to walk round several churches and museums! Following my strict guidelines for ranking museums the gold museum would have to come out as my recommendation as it had air conditioning round most of it!

That being said, there were also obvious attractions to what turned out to be largely a museum of torture and the various methods employed around the times of the Spanish Inquisition. The chaps in the picture on the right appear to have been having a great time whilst all of this was going on . . . come to think of it I’m sure I’ve taken similar pictures on one or two stag do’s that the boys have been on over the last few years when they get a little over excited.

Saturday came and we had booked to go out to the islands yet again, this time just for a day, to do some diving. We woke up bright and early, ready to meet the people taking us out and lo and behold if the heavens had not opened once again!

You can get a little idea of the ferocity of the rain in the picture to the left, this amount of water had come down in only about 30 minutes. We waited hesitantly at the notably closed dive shop and were beginning to think it was fate that we should not make it, when up turned a pick up truck and we were ushered inside and whisked off to the docks.

Things seemed to be going a little too well, the rain had stopped to little more than a drizzle and the sky was brightening. In a little under half an hour the rain had stopped, the sun was out and we were speeding our way out to the islands. The journey lasted a little over an hour as we docked against a small jetty on an even smaller island that consisted of two houses, one owned by the dive company and one someone else who I am assuming the dive company did not get on overly well with, considering the rather large wall and even larger dog barking over it.

The dives themselves were somewhat unspectacular, but it was good to get a couple of dives under our belts, having been strictly land (and air) based mammals for the last two years, especially with the possibility of diving in the more challenging waters around the Galápagos rearing into the headlights of the near future.

It was whilst out diving for the day that we met Paul, an Aussie miner (not minor), of gold none the less and having hit it off with him, we continued on after diving, first for a few beers in a roadside bar (30p a bottle) and then later that evening for dinner and a quantity of mojitos capable of flooring a whale, with himself and Charles who he had met a few days prior, a fellow bank employee who has decided now is a good time to escape the toils of the city, and when we met him was currently waiting for his car to be shipped in from Panama, where he has driven from the Arctic and plans to continue south to the Antarctic!

Sunday brought with it not just the expected hangover, but also what I feel must be considered the highlight of our travels so far, that being a lie in whilst watching the Man Utd. vs Newcastle match. Considering that last seasons matching fixture left us on the unfortunate end of a 6–0 drubbing, you can understand my unadulterated joy at not only gaining a convincing 1–1 draw, but also looking like a team that may actually know how to play football, rather than simply get into fights and ultimately jail, still let’s not get too carried away, it is after all only the first game of the season.

I suppose I should finally draw this rather extended entry to a close, it has taken so long to write that two days have passed since I first began and we are currently on our sixth flight in less than two weeks (don’t think of the carbon footprint) and soon to be landing in the Galápagos. For those of you who are paying any attention and are wandering as to the “…Almost’ in this entry’s title, rest assured foreign climbs have not taken too long to catch up with us and I shall be forever grateful to have a doctor as a sister-in-law who has provided various tonics to reduce my reliance on close proximity to a suitable convenience!

Next stop the Galápagos!

Helen & Julian's Wedding Photos Updated

I've finally been able to upload the remainder of the photo's from the wedding, you can see them here and I've included a little taster in this post for your (if not Julian's) amusement.

Will start to upload travel photo's next time we have Internet. Hope everyone is well!

It`s Alive!

I`m sure you`ve all been dreadfully concerned, but the iPhone truly is the work of the devil as it appears to have healed itself!

Five days after a soaking of truely monumental proportions and it has decided it has had enough of a rest, bursting back into life with it would appear no adverse affects, which is more than can be said for some of Siobhán`s old fashioned technology and there was no need to download the iDryOut application, but thanks for the tip Glenn ;)

Whilst this would appear to be good news, I do hope everywhere we stop from now on has a safe that it can be locked in at night, after all if it can heal itself who knows what it get`s up to when it`s not being watched!

Casualties of War

Well, it was bound to happen at some point, but this was a little sooner than I had expected . . . the first of my electronic toys has bitten the dust! The gadget in question, my iPhone :(

You may be wondering just how I Iet this unfortunate fate befall my beloved iPhone, so early into the trip, so let me fill you in . . . Siobhán and I arrived a little later and a lot more tired than anticipated in Cartagena, following a somewhat delayed flight from Bogota, meaning by the time we continued on our little adventure we had been passing the time in Bogota airport for nearly seven hours.

Arrival in Cartagena brought us no great respite, for as soon as we left the airport to (surprisingly) be met by the driver from our hotel, we soon discovered that Cartagena was in the grip of tropical storms of truly biblical proportions, with there being several feet of water on the roads we needed to pass and leaving our tired and battered minds pondering whether we had made a completely advisable selection with our choice of first holiday destination.

Such thoughts were soon put aside once we reached the hotel, a converted and extremely beautiful convent, as we swiftly went to bed safe in the knowledge we had to be up in just six hours time to get to the docks, where we would be taken to our first holiday destination proper on Isla del Pirata. The new dawn came without fanfare and whilst overcast and humid, there was nothing to suggest the day ahead would not be the first of many to be treasured. We made it to the docks for our boat on time, following a slight detour towards the airport where our taxi driver seemed to think would be a more suitable destination and awaited our hosts for the next five days.

The boat arrived and we were ushered aboard, rucksacks placed safely into the bow of the boat, we retained our zip on back packs containing our valulables such as passports and camera. No sooner had we boarded the boat than it began to rain (have I mentioned there was little more than a slight awning to cover the unexpecting passengers beneath and as Siobhán and I had carefully selected seats at the front of the boat we were not even afforded the somewhat limited protection this purported to offer).

Whilst more than a light shower, Siobhán and I were still in good spirits, knowng that in only 45 minutes we would be able to disembark and change our damp clothes, spending the remainder of the day at leisure, or so we thought. Approximately two minutes later (and out to sea) we began to appreciate how the roads had become so afflicted and we became caught, with no means of escape in a torrential downpour I am confident has not been experienced since the days of Noah himself.

Lashing and stinging rain beset the unfortunate little boat, in a thankfully calm sea, with those passengers who had maybe felt fortunate to be under the slight cover of the awning feeling no less the rains force than those of us at the front. Siobhán cowered her legs under her backpack, whilst I swiftly placed my wallet in mine and had a crew member place it in the bow in an attempt to preserve its contents. An hour later and we were still in the boat still being rained on (not that it really mattered by this juncture) and were informed we could go no further, less we incur the wrath of the coast guard and it was at this point we were ushered to a nearby island to shelter in an outdoor nightclub.

I will try and cut my little tale short, as I feel I may be failing to hold your interest (although I know how the suffering of another, particularly someone you know, can be a compulsive read). We were in due course informed we would not be able to make the trip to the island that day and eventually returned to our little boat to make back for the docks where (and I appreciate it was a long time coming) I discovered that I had failed to remember that I still had my poor unfortunate iPhone in my pocket, meaning it had undergone a drenching of monumental proportions, from which I am afraid it has failed to recover.

To ensure that I do not end on a sour note, which I feel would make those of my readers whom I used to work with feel far too smug at still sitting in the office, I should point out that in the two days since our return to the hotel of our first night, we have received nothing but glorious sunshine and eaten and drunk like kings, making our drenching little more than an amusing anecdote with which to entertain our friends upon our return and our tans are begining to come along nicely.

Come Saturday we have booked to go diving back out at the islands, so no doubt the weather will manage to take a turn for the worst by then, but in the mean time try and picture us sun drenched round a perfect pool without a care in the world :)

Bon Voyage

Ok, so it would appear that my definition of a hotel near to the airport is different to that of BAA through whom I booked The Continental hotel, a somewhat far reaching and grand title for any accommodation in central Hounslow in my opinion. It’s not that it took a great deal of time to get to it after the three hour drive from Kilarney, one and a half hour flight to Gatwick and one and a half hour bus journey to Heathrow, but a £25 cab ride does not seem close to me, especially knowing I have a mere thirteen hours of flying time just a short sleep away.

That being said, I can’t really hold BAA responsible for the biggest cock up of the evening, a prize I am afraid I will have to claim as my own, as I had managed to book the hotel for Sunday night rather than Saturday, a truly auspicious beginning to three months of travelling I’m sure you’ll agree. I was helpfully informed this was not a problem as they had a room available and it would only cost the bargain price of £85. Now the gentleman behind the desk may not have thought of this as a problem, but I who had already paid for the room for the following night (not to mention being unemployed) did and so it was that a little talk to the night shift manager later and it was agreed that the room we had already paid for the following night could be transfered and up we went to bed, with just enough time to get a few hours sleep before getting up for our 07:20 flight to Madrid.

That brings us to where I am writing this latest entry, sitting aboard our Iberia flight from Madrid to Bogota, wondering if the young man wearing a hat I am sure is considered en vogue by his fashionista chums, will stop making beeping noises with the vast and varied collection of electronic toys he and his friends posses, that any branch of Currys.digital would I am sure be only too proud to call their own.

I suppose at this point it would be appropriate to give a little synopsis of Helen & Julian’s wedding on Friday. I think it is fair to say that a fabulous time was had by all, especially the bride who seemed to rightfully look rather pleased with herself throughout the day, as well as such copious quantities of alcohol as to warrant special mention, even for an Irish wedding. You can take a look at the pictures Siobhán and I have so far managed to upload under the Photo's link on the right of tis page. I will endeavour to upload the remainder as and when Internet access throughout South America allows.

We will update you with news of our first couple of days in Cartagena as soon as we have the time :)

Home alone

Ok, if I’m completely honest, I don’t really have anything to post, but I want to test the software I’ve downloaded for writing blog entries offline whilst we’re in areas without Internet access, so the miniscule number of people who are actually reading this blog are either going to have to stop reading this entry now in the assured knowledge that it will be a waste of several minutes of their valuable lives (unlike the first two entries) or plough forwards, hoping that I will hide some gem of insight into the human condition and meaning of life.

Right, now I just have the attention of those of you who genuinely have nothing better to do with their lives I’ll tell you a little about today. I’m currently typing this from my parents house sans wife. Siobhán had to head back to London to go to work tomorrow, whilst I stay up in Telford for one more day visiting my family before going back to sort out the hand over of the flat.

Part of the reason I’m writing this is because I am, by an unfortunate accident of birth, a Newcastle United fan and they are currently on TV in a pre-season match that does little to give me confidence in the season ahead, as part of the ever desirable Mallorca Summer Cup, a never to be repeated display of world class football. A tournament so valuable you even get a point in the league table just for scoring goals whether you manage to win a match or not. Indeed my father, a life long Newcastle fan, was even bragging prior to the weekend, at work, that Newcastle would finally win some long awaited silverware, but alas the abject display defintely deserves the zero points, bottom place of the table and mocking of the commentators that we are currently enduring.

On the bright side, the unpacking of the van today did not take too long and my parents garage and house are now suitably endowed with a liberal scattering of Siobhán and my belongings. Tomorrow I get to spend a few final hours with my beautiful nieces before facing up the reality of now being unemployed, soon to be homeless and edging ever nearer to middle age; apologies to all those of you who know how old I am and feel I may be a little dramatic, but if buying a sports car and quiting work to travel the world do not constitute a mid-life crisis I do not know what does.

On that note I will bid you a good night, speak to you soon.

With work over, the manual labour begins

I finally finished work on Thursday and went out for drinks with most of the department plus some people I used to work with. I hope all those of you that came enjoyed it as much as I did and had hangovers that were just as impressive as mine!

On Friday, I had to pack up our flat, as we're letting it go whilst we go travelling. It didn't look like we had a lot of stuff at first, but I was still far from done when Siobhán came home from work at 19:00 that evening meaning we still had plenty to do on Saturday morning :(

On Saturday whilst Siobhán carried on with the packing, I went on our many errands with Dad eventually turning up with a Transit van just after 12:00. Not feeling he had earned a rest following the three hour drive from Telford, I quickly drafted him into action to take the very heavy sofa bed that a woman called Morag had failed to come and fetch the day before down to the reusable furniture depot at the local tip.
Now this could have been extremely painful, but father, being far brighter than his son, had brought some moving trolleys, so a very short time later we already had the sofa in the van and off we went to the tip, where we were swiftly informed we would not be allowed in with a van, even though they would more than happily take the sofa if it were in a car. Following a short discussion on the relative merits of putting a three seater sofa in an Audi TT, the man at the tip agreed we could carry the sofa in.
Unfortunately we had not been smart enough to bring the moving trolley with us and so ended up attempting to carry/drag the sofa 200m to the furniture depot and suitably destroying us for the rest of the day.

Never mind, I'll cut the story short as there is only so much enjoyment to be gleaned from reading about someone moving house, but eventually we arrived back in Telford at 20:00 Saturday evening, leading me to where I am now on Sunday morning, drinking a cup of tea and dreading now having to unload the van. On the bright side, once it's over we're pretty much ready for the off which will make it all worth while.

Anyway, I'll be off now to go and worry about how little you genuinely can fit in a rucksack . . .