Well we are still about, and not within cooee of NY and the Pentagon (yet). Its been awhile so to avoid from boring you all to tears I will keep to the highlights ;)
We finished some treks in the Andean alps (outside Huaraz, Peru) that we loved. Ros was just itching to go trekking, honest :) She has become more of a camper than me and has developed a serious case of weight naziness. To the point that she is taking the packaging off the tea bags. The first trek (just a few days) was fun except for the cows that kept giving Ros the evil eye (which I am reliably told means they are ready to charge)!
The walking up hills and living on soups and instant potato has had some marked effect on Ros that she has started saying things like 'I am wearing clown pants' or 'I have no butt'. She has started befriending burros who have returned the gesture by head butting her off the path. The altitude has strange effect on some minds ;) Me, I am craving roast lamb, anything but chicken and rice. All the mule drivers here are like the white rabbit from Alice in Wonderland: you say 'Hola', they ask the time and when you tell them they dart off as if they are late for something. The Huayhuash trek (7 days) was the best. We climbed a pass in all but one day. We started the trek out of the town of Chiquian where we immediately were passed by a large group of guys sporting the standard plague of the Israeli traveller. I gave them and cursory 'Shalom, Shalom' and they were instantly taken in and returned my imitation calls with a flurry of Hebrew So I had to quickly identify myself as a charlatan/imposter and reply that that was the extent of my vocab.
We dined on meals of the local trout whenever possible but had to buy provisions whenever we could. On one such occasion I sent up camp while Ros (tired from the walk) went over to try and buy some local cheese. I later learned that with her tiredness and spartan Spanish that she had in fact been brokering a deal for a woman's child, much to the local's amusement ;) On the fourth night there was an option to take the high route through the mountains for a better view. We dined with a local woman on trout and some vegies supplied by an English couple (Liz and Dez), whom we had befriended along the way. We were told the story of an guy who had taken the scenic route with an inexperienced guide and fallen to his eventual death. We returned to camp with the decision not to go that way and were greeted by an a guy (an Israeli man) who asked to look at our topographical map. We then learned that the four of them were planning the scenic route without any guide and hardly a map. We walked the next day with their mule driver and never saw them again. To this day we don't know what happened, but hope for the best.
When finally we finished we were walking down the last pass when we were greeted by a horseman going in the other direction. In our broken Spanish we learned that the road out was closed by an avalanche but if we walked back the way we came (for about 2-3 days) there would be a bus there :o NOT ON YOUR NELLIE MATE! We despondently stumbled into Cajatambo to see the 9 other despondent trekkers sulking outside the church... we guessed we had heard right. Luckily one of the trekkers was Spanish, and while he chatted to a local, discovered the old man had a nephew who had a truck. The old man dashed off and then there was a truck and a mad dash for it. 30 people crammed into the back, 11 gringos and locals and 2 shovels, and preceded by a bulldozer we headed back up the hill. After the bulldozer cleared a bit of an avalanche from the back road we were on our way crammed in like cattle. When it got cold they covered us with a tarp and Ros screaming 'Light I must have light' started leaping of bodies and clawing at the tarp but it was fine the claustrophobia was subdued by fine shards of moonlight seeping in. 12 hours later when they let us out we checked to make sure it wasn't Auschwitz (only Huanco), straightened our crooked backs and legs then caught another bus to Lima, in which we stood for another few hours.
We arrived in Lima (meant to be one of the most disliked destinations in all of SA), and greeted by a Lima taxi driver. We showed him the address of our hostel and agreed to a price of 4 soles. He was so proud of his taxi, 'German made car you know' (a badly beaten up old VW whose doors barely closed. He rounded the first corner and the fare became 7 soles. Ros lost it (too long in the wilds) and demanded him to stop immediately. I, barely staying out of a sleep induced coma, tried to participate in the 'discussion'. The driver backs of to 5 soles and changes the subject to the obligatory question 'Que pais´(what country you from). Ros is having none of it and is repeatedly screaming for him to stop, 'PARE, PARE'. He finally relents and we are taken to the wrong hostel!!! When we finally get him to take us to the right place, he leaps out of the taxi and accosts the woman who answered the door. Ros having none of his shenanigans dives out after him. We later learned he was after some sort of commission. No luck, he departs snorting 'Austria, hmmmph'. Oh well, let the Austrians deal with that one.
Tried to scam a few drinks in a Lima casino with another Aussie, Mark, then headed out to a local pub. Mark was followed into the toilets by a local gent who closed the door behind. Unnerving situation, but just a local drug dealer trying to make a buck. Lima is a city of contrasts, the poor live in wicker huts on the fringes while on the seaside the affluent indulge in those symbols of success: MacDonalds and KFC (more expensive than the local tucker).
Peru is a desert (at least on the coast) where the mud brick houses seem perpetually crumbling back to the plains of their origins.
Then we have checked Machu Piccu (Old Mountain: Quecha) off our list having done the four day Inca trail. To be quite honest we are pretty disappointed. The trail MUST be done now in a tour group. Seeing that many trekkers is way to claustrophobic for the likes of us, used to more pristine conditions. The pass on day two we saw thin figures on the pass, that as we got closer precipitated out of the fog into the forms of backpackers waving the Union jack wildly or chanting in french.
Next was Bolivia and lake Titicaca. In all Bolivia has been the country that has amazed us the most. Titicaca was a gem of sapphire blue skirted by snowcapped mountains that held aloft bulging grey clouds into the sky. Fisherman sail across its glittering surface or crawl on oared legs. The Island of the sun was a favourite (which you must walk and stay the night in the untouristy north), there we lazed and watched sheep being herded along the shore. Ros befriended a little girl whom I had to remove from her back pack (almost) before we left.
Then to La Paz, and the Amazon Jungle. We decided to live it up in luxury at Chalalan lodge in the jungle for a few days which was absolute paradise. A five hour canoe ride into the jungle from Rurrenabaque. On the brief walk to the lodge the two of us were bemused by the biologist, seeking a location to study monkeys, who dragged her luggage on its little airport wheels for the full 1/2hr obliterating all in her path, while complaining about the rocks on the path. The jungle was good lots of plants and insects and even managed the tarzan thing of swinging through the jungle on a vine. We then did a tour of the Amazon plains in search for big game. Managed to get in a group of 3 other aussies and a Pom (needless to say she, Monners, attracted a lot of stick). We saw lots of gators and I swam with the pink dolphins (same creek) and am still hearing about the dangers of this from Ros. Got shat on (we all did) by a 2.5m anaconda. We waded through a swap in search of something black and yellow, Rob and I spruiking loudly that we would have no trouble bagging one of these babies. After 15mins we gave up and sheltered in the shade, which we learned later was the territory of black cobras (safer in the swamp with the gators). Finally a guide returned with the snake (grey and brown), and Rob and I changed our tunes. We could have tripped over it for all we knew.
We then bused to Potosi and almost froze to death as the left one of the windows unstickytaped-shut. When we landed we dived into bed for an hour to defrost. The mines, operated since spanish times, are still worked in medieval fashion. The ages vary from 8 to 54, which is an amazing stat because with all the asbestos and arsenic in the air the average life expectancy is 46. But things have improved because 40yrs ago they got dynamite and now the have pneumatic drills and work 8hr shifts, a far cry from the 48 hr shifts in Spanish times kept going only by coca leaves (made legal again after the Inquisition by special request to the Pope from the king of Spain the coca made the miners more productive). Then the coup de gra... the Uyuni to Chile. 3 days of continually changing scenery: the dry salt lake that is ocean of white with Isla Peca a black hill of dead coral and cactus. Here I was waiting for Ros to come back from the loo when a guy approached. He said 'Sorry' and then proceeded to pluck thorns from a nearby cactus with a small pair of pliers. I gave him a funny look to which he replied 'I like them'. Ros appeared and we hurried away without looking back. There were lakes of blood red and pale green, steaming fumaroles and pink flamingoes When we left Bolivia for Chile we landed ourselves on another tour of the stark landscape the fringes the Atacama desert. A giant salt plain sandwiched between two ranges and has been turned on its side so that now it look like the backs of many giant prehistoric beasts. 3 nights in Chile, Ros still cracking the whip to get us to Venezuela after Rob's (Lost Man in SA) ravings, and we're in Arequipa.
We just returned from a 4 day walk in the Colca Canyon (2nd deepest in the world). A 1am rise to get the 2am bus to see the condors. The first day Ros almost turned back, I think the view down was a little to far down. But we made to the bottom past the workers blasting a new path over our head (too think that they cold have waited after we bribed them with some lollies). We then had a 3am rise to do a mule ride to the top of the other side (Mt Bomboya) and saw the volcanoes. Day 3 we rose at the inhuman hour of 8am to visit the ruins of Tapay like Indianna Jones and raced to the Oasis. We were late leaving and walked the last bit in the dark. Luckilly 'we' were hurried along after being chased by some killer fluffy lambs screaming for 'our' blood. Day 4 we walked up and caught the bus back and were welcomed by the reality of 'civilisation' and the news that the US had been attacked.
We finished some treks in the Andean alps (outside Huaraz, Peru) that we loved. Ros was just itching to go trekking, honest :) She has become more of a camper than me and has developed a serious case of weight naziness. To the point that she is taking the packaging off the tea bags. The first trek (just a few days) was fun except for the cows that kept giving Ros the evil eye (which I am reliably told means they are ready to charge)!
The walking up hills and living on soups and instant potato has had some marked effect on Ros that she has started saying things like 'I am wearing clown pants' or 'I have no butt'. She has started befriending burros who have returned the gesture by head butting her off the path. The altitude has strange effect on some minds ;) Me, I am craving roast lamb, anything but chicken and rice. All the mule drivers here are like the white rabbit from Alice in Wonderland: you say 'Hola', they ask the time and when you tell them they dart off as if they are late for something. The Huayhuash trek (7 days) was the best. We climbed a pass in all but one day. We started the trek out of the town of Chiquian where we immediately were passed by a large group of guys sporting the standard plague of the Israeli traveller. I gave them and cursory 'Shalom, Shalom' and they were instantly taken in and returned my imitation calls with a flurry of Hebrew So I had to quickly identify myself as a charlatan/imposter and reply that that was the extent of my vocab.
We dined on meals of the local trout whenever possible but had to buy provisions whenever we could. On one such occasion I sent up camp while Ros (tired from the walk) went over to try and buy some local cheese. I later learned that with her tiredness and spartan Spanish that she had in fact been brokering a deal for a woman's child, much to the local's amusement ;) On the fourth night there was an option to take the high route through the mountains for a better view. We dined with a local woman on trout and some vegies supplied by an English couple (Liz and Dez), whom we had befriended along the way. We were told the story of an guy who had taken the scenic route with an inexperienced guide and fallen to his eventual death. We returned to camp with the decision not to go that way and were greeted by an a guy (an Israeli man) who asked to look at our topographical map. We then learned that the four of them were planning the scenic route without any guide and hardly a map. We walked the next day with their mule driver and never saw them again. To this day we don't know what happened, but hope for the best.
When finally we finished we were walking down the last pass when we were greeted by a horseman going in the other direction. In our broken Spanish we learned that the road out was closed by an avalanche but if we walked back the way we came (for about 2-3 days) there would be a bus there :o NOT ON YOUR NELLIE MATE! We despondently stumbled into Cajatambo to see the 9 other despondent trekkers sulking outside the church... we guessed we had heard right. Luckily one of the trekkers was Spanish, and while he chatted to a local, discovered the old man had a nephew who had a truck. The old man dashed off and then there was a truck and a mad dash for it. 30 people crammed into the back, 11 gringos and locals and 2 shovels, and preceded by a bulldozer we headed back up the hill. After the bulldozer cleared a bit of an avalanche from the back road we were on our way crammed in like cattle. When it got cold they covered us with a tarp and Ros screaming 'Light I must have light' started leaping of bodies and clawing at the tarp but it was fine the claustrophobia was subdued by fine shards of moonlight seeping in. 12 hours later when they let us out we checked to make sure it wasn't Auschwitz (only Huanco), straightened our crooked backs and legs then caught another bus to Lima, in which we stood for another few hours.
We arrived in Lima (meant to be one of the most disliked destinations in all of SA), and greeted by a Lima taxi driver. We showed him the address of our hostel and agreed to a price of 4 soles. He was so proud of his taxi, 'German made car you know' (a badly beaten up old VW whose doors barely closed. He rounded the first corner and the fare became 7 soles. Ros lost it (too long in the wilds) and demanded him to stop immediately. I, barely staying out of a sleep induced coma, tried to participate in the 'discussion'. The driver backs of to 5 soles and changes the subject to the obligatory question 'Que pais´(what country you from). Ros is having none of it and is repeatedly screaming for him to stop, 'PARE, PARE'. He finally relents and we are taken to the wrong hostel!!! When we finally get him to take us to the right place, he leaps out of the taxi and accosts the woman who answered the door. Ros having none of his shenanigans dives out after him. We later learned he was after some sort of commission. No luck, he departs snorting 'Austria, hmmmph'. Oh well, let the Austrians deal with that one.
Tried to scam a few drinks in a Lima casino with another Aussie, Mark, then headed out to a local pub. Mark was followed into the toilets by a local gent who closed the door behind. Unnerving situation, but just a local drug dealer trying to make a buck. Lima is a city of contrasts, the poor live in wicker huts on the fringes while on the seaside the affluent indulge in those symbols of success: MacDonalds and KFC (more expensive than the local tucker).
Peru is a desert (at least on the coast) where the mud brick houses seem perpetually crumbling back to the plains of their origins.
Then we have checked Machu Piccu (Old Mountain: Quecha) off our list having done the four day Inca trail. To be quite honest we are pretty disappointed. The trail MUST be done now in a tour group. Seeing that many trekkers is way to claustrophobic for the likes of us, used to more pristine conditions. The pass on day two we saw thin figures on the pass, that as we got closer precipitated out of the fog into the forms of backpackers waving the Union jack wildly or chanting in french.
Next was Bolivia and lake Titicaca. In all Bolivia has been the country that has amazed us the most. Titicaca was a gem of sapphire blue skirted by snowcapped mountains that held aloft bulging grey clouds into the sky. Fisherman sail across its glittering surface or crawl on oared legs. The Island of the sun was a favourite (which you must walk and stay the night in the untouristy north), there we lazed and watched sheep being herded along the shore. Ros befriended a little girl whom I had to remove from her back pack (almost) before we left.
Then to La Paz, and the Amazon Jungle. We decided to live it up in luxury at Chalalan lodge in the jungle for a few days which was absolute paradise. A five hour canoe ride into the jungle from Rurrenabaque. On the brief walk to the lodge the two of us were bemused by the biologist, seeking a location to study monkeys, who dragged her luggage on its little airport wheels for the full 1/2hr obliterating all in her path, while complaining about the rocks on the path. The jungle was good lots of plants and insects and even managed the tarzan thing of swinging through the jungle on a vine. We then did a tour of the Amazon plains in search for big game. Managed to get in a group of 3 other aussies and a Pom (needless to say she, Monners, attracted a lot of stick). We saw lots of gators and I swam with the pink dolphins (same creek) and am still hearing about the dangers of this from Ros. Got shat on (we all did) by a 2.5m anaconda. We waded through a swap in search of something black and yellow, Rob and I spruiking loudly that we would have no trouble bagging one of these babies. After 15mins we gave up and sheltered in the shade, which we learned later was the territory of black cobras (safer in the swamp with the gators). Finally a guide returned with the snake (grey and brown), and Rob and I changed our tunes. We could have tripped over it for all we knew.
We then bused to Potosi and almost froze to death as the left one of the windows unstickytaped-shut. When we landed we dived into bed for an hour to defrost. The mines, operated since spanish times, are still worked in medieval fashion. The ages vary from 8 to 54, which is an amazing stat because with all the asbestos and arsenic in the air the average life expectancy is 46. But things have improved because 40yrs ago they got dynamite and now the have pneumatic drills and work 8hr shifts, a far cry from the 48 hr shifts in Spanish times kept going only by coca leaves (made legal again after the Inquisition by special request to the Pope from the king of Spain the coca made the miners more productive). Then the coup de gra... the Uyuni to Chile. 3 days of continually changing scenery: the dry salt lake that is ocean of white with Isla Peca a black hill of dead coral and cactus. Here I was waiting for Ros to come back from the loo when a guy approached. He said 'Sorry' and then proceeded to pluck thorns from a nearby cactus with a small pair of pliers. I gave him a funny look to which he replied 'I like them'. Ros appeared and we hurried away without looking back. There were lakes of blood red and pale green, steaming fumaroles and pink flamingoes When we left Bolivia for Chile we landed ourselves on another tour of the stark landscape the fringes the Atacama desert. A giant salt plain sandwiched between two ranges and has been turned on its side so that now it look like the backs of many giant prehistoric beasts. 3 nights in Chile, Ros still cracking the whip to get us to Venezuela after Rob's (Lost Man in SA) ravings, and we're in Arequipa.
We just returned from a 4 day walk in the Colca Canyon (2nd deepest in the world). A 1am rise to get the 2am bus to see the condors. The first day Ros almost turned back, I think the view down was a little to far down. But we made to the bottom past the workers blasting a new path over our head (too think that they cold have waited after we bribed them with some lollies). We then had a 3am rise to do a mule ride to the top of the other side (Mt Bomboya) and saw the volcanoes. Day 3 we rose at the inhuman hour of 8am to visit the ruins of Tapay like Indianna Jones and raced to the Oasis. We were late leaving and walked the last bit in the dark. Luckilly 'we' were hurried along after being chased by some killer fluffy lambs screaming for 'our' blood. Day 4 we walked up and caught the bus back and were welcomed by the reality of 'civilisation' and the news that the US had been attacked.
No comments:
Post a Comment