You know when you've been tango'd

There is only really one suitable description for our first impressions of Buenos Aires, and that is massive. Coming from London you think that not a lot is going to take you by surprise, but the pure size of BA is immense, apparently bulging with the best part of thirteen million residents, effectively twice as many as the capital of dear old Blighty.

Our cab from the Airport to our Hotel took about forty minutes, trailing through the sprawling metropolis to San Telmo, the oldest district of BA and home to those of a bohemian persuasion. Whilst our hotel was a lovely converted town house, it was a little nearer to La Boca, an area reknowned for it's high crime levels and general lack of safety, than is perhaps sanguine. A fact probably made evident by the hotel continually keeping it's front door locked.

On our first day we wandered down to the main square and took in a few of the sights, such as the Presidential Palace Casa Rosada. I was feeling fairly scruffy having up to this point failed to get a hair cut and so we marched onwards looking for a barbers. This turned out to be a rather fruitless mission as I rejected venue after venue as being too girly, but I did at least manage to track down some new clothes, although Siobhán talking me into buying a velvet jacket may have been a purchase too far.

It was whilst wearing both my new jeans and jumper on a walk the following day, that an Argentine couple started gesticulting wildly at us. A few dazed moments later the reasoning for their energetic wavings became clear as we realised that we had both just had the misfortune of a pigeon deciding it needed a bathroom break, leaving us both rather the worse for wear, so much so that we needed to immediately head for the nearest mall and buy Siobhán a new pair of jeans, whilst hoping that with a little care and attention, my jeans and jumper may survive.

As you may expect, in a city the size of BA, there was plenty for us to try and fit into our short stay. We had the obligatory long walks around the city, which has become one of our staple activities on our travels, as well as spending time at an enourmous antiques market, partying in Palermo and spending an evening at the obligatory tango show.

It was during a visit to La Boca to see the Caminito that we managed to make one of our now customary cock-ups. Everyone warns visitors to BA that walking to La Boca to see the brightly coloured buildings of Caminito is fine and perfectly safe, but that in no circumstances should you wander anywhere else in La Boca.

We were following the instructions from our guide book, which indicated you could walk along the harbour in safety however, about twenty minutes into a slum we had just about realised that we may not be in the best part of town . . . this thought was confirmed by a taxi that mercifully drove by, slowed, and gave us rather cusory glances, following which I flagged him down.

The driver was so clearly concerned at where we had been walking and his Spanglish mixed with gestures of being shot in the head made his message clear, as did the fact all of his doors were locked and he wouldn't stop anywhere in the area, happily driving on the wrong side of the road if it avoided slowing down, let alone stopping.

Anyway, as you've probably realised, based on the fact we're writing this, we emerged from the slums unscathed and suitably chastised by our taxi driver, ready for the next part of our journey . . . Iguazu!

Tour Map Updated!

Ok, I know it has taken me until the evening before we go, but I have finally added the Chinese destinations onto the tour map, so click on through and see where we're headed in the final leg of our trip.

I'll also do my best to bring the blog up to date this week. Buenos Aires will be up today and I'll try and fill you in on Brazil and Melbourne whilst we're in Beijing.

Good Food, Plentiful Wine & Goats Galore

So we had finally escaped from the maximum security country that is Bolivia and headed into Salta in northern Argentina. Following our usual level of good luck in such matters we arrived at 23:00 and waited nearly 45 minutes for a taxi from the airport as we had managed to fly in at the end of a religious festival and all the taxis were busy in town!

One good nights sleep in Salta and we were off again, taking a bus to Cafayate with a lone ambition of getting free booze as we were heading for wine country and as many free wine tasting tours as you can shake a stick at!

We took a small bus for the four hour trip, with some glorious scenery and beautiful weather to help us make the way. Unfortunately the young lady sitting in-front of me appeared to be under the mistaken apprehension that I had no legs and Siobháns aversion to any road with a bend in it made for a less than pleasant journey. None the less, once we arrived, the accommodation we had booked was just round the corner from the main square and was beautifully decorated, leaving us to while away the afternoon in the sun with very few concerns.

The evening came and we headed for the restaurant in town most recommended for steak and I think it is fair to say we were salivating at the prospect of finally getting a good meal following the gastronomic wasteland that is Bolivia. It is hard to describe how truly happy we were as the side of cow was place in-front of each of us and I started my long awaited recovery from the mere waife of a boy I had become . . . anyway, getting back to reality it is clear to see where Argentina get their reputation for the worlds best steak, so our trip to Cafayate ended its first day on more than happy terms.

The second day brought with it the prime purpose of our little jaunt, and so it was that we came upon renting the worlds most uncomfortable bikes in all of creationdom. The little vineyards were not far apart from each other or town, but this did not prevent my poor behind from becoming more battered than a cod from the local fish shop!

A small trifle such as this was not about to prevent the goal of free wine however, and so it was we made our way to the first vineyard which was . . . shut – damn it! Never mind onto the one next door, definitely open as it had tour buses outside so we set about our quite unsuccessful mission of making ourselves understood to the Spanish speaking employees and spectacularly failed for a second time to get so much of a sniff of the juice of the gods – double damn it!

Feeling somewhat beaten and a little weak at the knees from the dehydration brought on by our lack of liquid sustainance we headed for our third stop, the first proper bodega (they make the wine but don’t have vines). Glory be to God upon high if they weren’t open (if only just as it was approaching lunch) and surely enough they filled our glasses as we nodded sagely and made appropriate gurgling sounds to show our approval. We were clearly getting in the swing of things as we made it to our next bodega within a 50m walk (again just squeezing in before lunch) and worked through our little routine again, nodding to each other and sniffing in a suitable theatrical manner.

The wind had clearly turned in our favour, allowing us to cycle back to the first vineyard we had tried for which we had now figured out the opening times and this time we were met with success, not just more wine, but also a tour around the facilities. We made ourselves sound rather knowledgeable to our lovely hostess by mentioning Napa Valley and Stellenbosch and before you know it we were making our way back into town rather pleased with our days efforts and very much more unsteadily on the bikes, partly I suspect from the wine, but I fear more so from the bruising endowed to my poor bottom!

During our little adventure, we had bought a bottle of wine from each stop (just to be polite you understand) so we had a cunning plan to drink the first of these in our hotel that evening prior to dinner, but for this we felt we would need a little accompaniment.

Now before I go further, I should warn Joe and Rav that they should perhaps not be reading this at work as the excitement and jealousy they are about to feel may get them some odd looks as they start to perspire and go red (just to clear up any misunderstanding for the rest of my probably limited readership, I should point out that during a previous trip to Croatia we discovered an unhealthy bond between the gentlemen named above and the creatures I am about to mention below).

I have previously promised to Joe that I would provide a picture of a nice Alpaca to make up for the lack of Goat pictures I had managed to get for him (check the comments on previous blog entries) and indeed during one of our wine stops I did indeed get the picture as promised however, someone was clearly thinking Joe and Ravi deserved better than this and so it was we discovered just 1Km out of town a . . . Goat Farm!

Siobhán and I got some pictures for you lads [see the full collection here], but be warned some of those goats pictured are minors (by which I mean young, rather than working under ground) and so should be afforded the appropriate level of respect.

Anyway, now I have the little in-jokes with the gang back in London in print (can you say in print when it’s in a blog?), I will attempt to return back to the details of the day. We had a tour round the farm and purchased some very pleasant cheese to go with our wine, making for the end of a rather successful, if painful day.

One further day was spent in Cafayate, before a further bus journey back to Salta and a second anniversary dinner in Salta, where the extremely nice owner showed us round his wine cellar, we drank champagne and puffed a fine cigar (well I did anyway). I will leave this entry here, next up Buenos Aires . . .

Escape from La Paz

Breaking out is impossible . . . breaking in is insane!




Ok, so as Siobhán may have mentioned in her last post, we had discovered that getting to our intended next destination may be a little more difficult that expected. Political unrest in Bolivia meant that there were a series of strikes taking place and wild fire political action to block roads as the result of disagreement between the newly gas rich states and the rest over President Morales plan to more evenly distribute the wealth to help the indigenous poor.

Never the less, we were not to be deterred and so it was your favourite, daring globe trotters booked their tickets, packed their bags and made their way to the bus office (carrying their own bags and everything, not a porter or concierge in sight!)

Following a 20 minute wait, we were asked to follow the lady from the office to the bus. Now we assumed having been asked to meet at the bus office it may be somewhere near by, at least in the same postal code. This was clearly a foolish assumption on our part as we walked so far across town with our bags, that we were beginning to wonder if the company's cunning plan to get by any road blocks was simply for us to walk the entire way.

Eventually, a bus, or something that at least resembled a bus did appear and we were ushered inside. Now I believe my beloved mentioned in her last post, that the last bus smelt rather unfortunately of the toilet. This little problem was not to be repeated as the bus company had come up with a brilliant solution for the four hour journey, no toilet!
I accept this may not seem like an end of the world situation, but I have yet to mention that we may have been experiencing slightly upset stomachs since we entered Bolivia, possibly related to the world class cuisine we had come to endure.

The journey to La Paz that followed, continued fairly uneventfully, with the only event of note being at a gas station the bus took a 15 minute break at, where a Japanese gentleman travelling on our bus thought it would be a good idea to light up a cigarette whilst wandering around the petrol pumps.

Once arriving at the vast sprawl that was La Paz, the bus company had one final cost saving measure up their sleeves, which consisted finding a more suitable venue to park than the bus station. The chosen venue was a practically vertical hill, which doubled up as one of the busiest roads in La Paz and barely big enough for a car to fit down, let alone squeeze past a parked bus on. Fortunately our bags were quickly off the bus and Siobhán managed to fight her way past the thronging crowd and launch herself into the only cab visible in the entire street, much to the consternation of some of our fellow passengers.

Before long we had made our way to the next hotel, The Ritz (what? we deserved a little luxury after the bus!)

The next 5 days were to be spent in La Paz. We had clearly not thought this entirely through. La Paz doubled up as both gastronomically bleak and something of an entertainment free zone, but it was not done messing with us there! We had a plan to travel through Bolivia and on into Brazil, but had not booked our onward travel. It turns out it's even harder to leave La Paz than to enter it and our options boiled down to a propable combination of several very slow bus and train journeys, likely to total around 30 hours through the eastern states that were currently the centre of the troubles. Indeed by the time we needed to leave 9 people had been murdered and the President was trying to arrest the leaders of the troublesome state.

With all of this in mind we decided to fly out of Bolivia, but even this seemed practically impossible, with no international flights out of La Paz, forcing we either fly all the way back to Peru, or go via Santa Cruz (capital of the problem state) which we were kindly informed by the sales assistant in the travel office was occasionally taken over by the protesters.

Well, to be honest things weren't as bad as I enjoy making them sound and we decided that our best route of escape would be to add Argentina into our itinerary and we made the necessary arrangements to fly into Salta, followed by Buenos Aires, which would make it straight forward to carry onto one of our intended destinations of Iguazu.

The day to leave came and in the mean time we had bought a painting. We needed to visit the art gallery on the morning we were to leave and so headed back to the gallery to finish the paper work and organise shipping. Upon nearing the gallery it turned out we were walking straight into an organised rally against the gas rich states. To make things more fun it transpired that the march was to continue straight past our hotel and so it became a race to see who would make it there first, us or the march. It turns out it was pretty much a tie, leading to us being escorted from the hotel to a back street where they had organised for a taxi ready to make it out to the airport.

Alright, if I'm honest I'm making it all sound far more exciting and dangerous than it really way, but after all you wouldn't want to read a dull blog!

[btw click here if you don't understand the picture / tag line]

The Orient Express, Puno and Cobacabana.

Hi all, Siobhán here, as this is my first entry I hope you'll forgive me if it is not up to Matts usual high standard.

After our triumphant completion of the Inca trail, we spent a night in Aguas Calientes before heading back to Cusco. The train from Aguas Calientes to Cusco was an experience all by itself - the mountain is so steep that the train goes back and forth across the mountain to get down. Each switch is done manually with flashlights by guys in the last carriage of the train and guys on the tracks switching the points on the track. Eventually however (only after Matt and Greg had drunk the on-board bar out of beer) we reached Cusco and said good-bye to Greg and Melissa as we were heading to Puno on The Orient Express (yes there is one in South America apparently) to Puno the next morning.

After nearly missing the train we settled down to a full day of sitting on a comfortable train and being brought food and drinks (a welcome change from long days spent hiking up and down mountains). We were definitely mixing with Peruvian high society as there was a couple of models on board doing some sort of publicity piece (possibly for the Peruvian equivalent of Hello). The view from the train was amazing, the vast altiplano stretching off into the distance, populated mostly by llamas.

On arrival in Puno it appeared that the entire pre-teen population of the town wanted to clean Matt and my boots, to be fair this was a theme thoughout Peru however the Puno bootcleaners were the most persistent. The first order on business in Puno was to organise a bus to Copacabana in Bolivia the next day. With that done we explored the town a little before heading to bed.

The bus to Copacabana was a less than pleasant experience (travelling isn't all fun and games you know). Suffice it to say that the whole bus smelled of toilet and we were stuck on it for 3.5 hours. Still though we felt like proper back backers carrying our packs off the bus and heading into town.

Copacabana is right on the banks of Lake Titicaca and we had a fabulous little house shaped a bit like a cone. The plan for our stay was to head over to Isla de Sol and do some hiking. The more famous Copacabana beach in Rio (the one from the song) is actually called after this little Bolivian town as it has been a pilgrimage town since Inca times - The incas believed that their civilization began here and that the sun was born here. While from colonial times to the present day there are pilgrimages to worship the Virgin of Copacabana - and icon carved by a priest of Inca decent in 1576.

Somehow the hike around Isla de Sol seemed incredibly difficult (even for seasoned hikers like ourselves :-) Its starts at about 3,800m and climbs about 100m - 200m which isn't that different from the altitude that we were used to on The Inca Trail but for whatever reason we both seemed much more effected by the altitude here than in Peru. I put it down to the lack of Coca tea, which I had consumed gallons of in Peru. I was slightly worried that I might be suffering withdrawal symtoms. However the lake is stunningly beautiful, incredibly blue and clear and huge - going on for as far as the eye can see. Unfortunately we don't have any pictures of our day on Lake Titicaca as I forgot the camera.

It was only on trying to organise a bus from Copacabana to La Paz that we realised that there was some Political unrest in Bolivia - it appeared that on previous days buses were unable to travel due to rocks and other blocks being strewn on the road. However luckily it seemed that on the particular day that we had chosento travel there were no strikes planned. So off to La Paz we headed.

Quick update

I'll make this quick, as we've only just got into Curitiba at 06:30 this morning following an all night bus journey (hard core travelling or what! - ok it had flat beds, air conditioning and a toilet, but still!)

I've been getting abused by my younger sister in-law for being lazy and not updating the blog, so I promise posts on Bolivia and Argenitina will be making their way onto the blog very soon (probably once we hit Sao Paulo tomorrow). I'll also post the Argentina photos as soon as we have a good enough Internet connection, hopefully some of the photos from Iguazu falls will make you all jealous ;)

In the mean time be pleased to know we're still alive and I've updated the tour map as we finally decided how we're getting to Rio.

The Inca Trail

It was 07:00 and we were still waiting in the hotel lobby nearly an hour after we had been told we’d be picked up. Now I think it is fair to say that both of us were perhaps hoping there had been a mix up and we had been forgotten about; a perfect opportunity to withdraw from what currently seemed a ridiculous challenge we had set ourselves with both our dignity in tact (kind of) and indignation at the travel company with which we could bitterly complain to our friends at the injustice at having the opportunity snatched away from us.

A quick Spanglish call later and we were informed we had not been forgotten about, but one of our new comrade in arms had not been ready when the bus arrived and that they would be here shortly. Bugger!

And so it was we found ourselves on a somewhat cramped mini-bus winding our way towards the start of the Inca Trail approximately two hours away from Cuzco. The journey for the most part was pretty uneventful; that was until we neared our destination and a remarkable number of rocks began to be strewn across the road. We found this somewhat peculiar and it was only a few days later that we worked out this was the remnants of a strike (something of a continental wide hobby as far as we can tell) but it was the overturned bus that we had also had to drive past that gave a slightly more chilling message once we’d figured this all out.

Eventually we arrived at the car park for the beginning of the trail and discovered that out of the dozen people taking part in our group, only ourselves and a mother and daughter had opted not to carry their own rucksacks, making us feel a little weak, although not weak enough to reconsider carrying them ourselves. So slightly embarrassed and rather more nervous we set off on the first of the four day trek, a mere 12Km relatively flat walk to the first nights camp. The decision to not take our own packs quickly showed dividends as we swiftly marched to the front of the group, walking gradually upwards alongside the Urumba river. The walk began fairly uneventfully, with just the occasional porter running past to put us in our places.

It must be mentioned at this juncture that the porters are superhuman in their strength and endurance. Generally not large men, but strong as Oxen, they can generally be relied on to reduce any sense of triumph you may be feeling at your endeavours to pitiful self-revelry as they run past easily carrying 20Kg of backpacks, camping and cooking equipment, ready to greet you with a cool drink and food as you stagger tired and sweaty into the lunch or evening camp, where they have inevitably been for several hours prior to your arrival unpacking, building tents, preparing food and generally doing everything you have done as well as act as builder, cook, cleaner and servant whilst also congratulating you as you finally make it to their deftly prepared camp.

That being said, I think it is fair to say that as we all entered the first lunch camp, we were somewhat surprised to be met by not just a simple sandwich or packed lunch, but three course meal round a communal table inside a tent specifically for the purpose! I don’t believe there was a single member of the group that was not somewhat stunned at the level of effort that had gone in to providing us with our lunch.

It was just before and after lunch that we had the only real up hill climbs of the first day. Whilst we handled them without too much trouble, some of those carrying their own packs were definitely beginning to reconsider their positions. It was after the second of the steep climbs that we foolishly asked how steep these climbs were compared to what we were to expect the following day. The answer was not what we had hoped as our guide described the second day as “up, up and up again”. It was with this fearful message revolving around our heads that we made our first nights camp.

I should explain that I have not camped since being a member of the Cub Scouts whilst still in Primary School and Siobhán cannot remember when she last did. I think it is fair to say that as we lay cold and shuddering in sleeping bags, in a tent too short for me to lay flat and on a slope so great that we kept ending up in a heap at the foot of the tent, that our passion for this type of holiday accommodation was not reignighted.

Following a rather sleepless night we came to the second day and all but two of our fellow adventurers had made the decision to pass their rucksacks on to porters, feeling the warnings of how hard the day to come would be should be heeded. This included Greg & Melissa, an American couple from Virginia, who were carrying the most unbelievably large packs each that I’m personally astounded they made it through day one!

And so began the second day a further 12Km. We swiftly moved from the front of the group on day one, to the back on day two. It is hard to describe the continual climb that faced us, with Greg and I competing for the first to have a coronary on the trail. The uphill climb consisted of three two hour climbs of 350m, 450m and 400m respectively. This may seem to you; as it certainly did to me prior to the physical reality, as not too great, but with each section came an increasing steepness and reducing oxygen levels. Whilst Siobhán was not too greatly affected, I honestly believe that had the top of the mountain been just 10m higher I would not have made it.

It was as a staggering wreck that I finally struggled over the apex of the first pass and collapsed to the floor, hoping beyond hope that I would never have to move again. Sadly the Inca Trail is a hard master and fifteen short minutes later we began the decent to the second day camp. Having climbed 1.2Km during the first part of the day we now needed to descend a further 0.7Km down. Whilst I found a somewhat renewed vigour in at least exercising a new muscle group, Siobhán began to appreciate Zeldas warnings of how for some, downhill on the trail was even worse than the up.

Several hours later and we finally made it into camp. A small illustration of how tired we had become during this second day can be made by highlighting that once we had walked down to the camp, we needed to walk up maybe 5m or 10m to get to our designated area in the camp. An exercise that required both of us to take a break part way as we huffed and puffed our way to the end of the second day.

I would like at this point to also thank Greg & Melissa who had been fortunate enough to be assigned a larger tent than us on the first night. Knowing how hard we had found the day and that the following day was to be my 30th birthday they had asked the guides to give us their tent for the night, which made for a far more pleasurable nights sleep (as well as the exhaustion from the days activities).

I will attempt to cut this tale somewhat short, as I am cognisant that this entry is tending more toward the epic.

The third day (and my 30th birthday) was a 16Km trek and began with a further steep 450m climb over the second pass (can you believe some people do both the first and second passes on the second day!!!). Revived from a nights rest, the second pass was made without too much ado, leading to yet another steep descent the following side to view some Inca ruins and make off for lunch camp.

Siobhán, Melissa, Greg and I started early after lunch on the third day and I’m not sure where from, but I had discovered a renewed energy as I marched our little band mercilessly toward the third pass, finally breaking away by myself about 1Km from the third pass to practically run to our final apex.

The descent following the third apex was gigantic and all four of our merry little group were feeling we had walked our last as we finally made it down over 2000 steps to our third and final camp, perched on a tiny outcrop of land above an extremely steep drop. None the less, I was not going to let the days exertions over shadow it being my 30th birthday. As luck would have it there was a bar at the final camp and Siobhán swiftly leapt into action as bar maid for the night, providing Greg and I with a continual stream of cold beers.

As well as this the group (I think lead by a lovely girl called Celeste) had made preparations to mark the occasion of my 30th birthday and so it was I was presented with a double Twix with makeshift match candles. Thanks to you all.

The fourth and final day started at 04:00 whilst still dark to make it to the Sun Gate in time for sunrise. Tragically the weather had decided we were to be denied this view as the heavens opened and commenced to drench us for the 6Km final walk. When we finally arrived at Machu Picchu the ruins could barely be seen due to the cloud level and rain and so we made our way down into town to dry off, have a shower and get some lunch.

Siobhán, Melissa, Greg and I then returned to Machu Picchu in the afternoon and following a second downpour managed to finally get to tour round the ruins and get the well deserved photos, if not in the classical sun drenched style.

I appreciate I have kept your attention for a rather long time with this post so will finally draw to a close. Please take a look at our photos from the links in the right hand menu if you’d like to get a better view of what we got up to. Hopefully my next post will be a little more concise, so until next time!