Iguazu Falls round two

To quote Eleanor Roosevelt, on seeing the Iguazu Falls: 'Poor Niagara'. If you come to South America at all, you have to drop in and see this natural wonder. The first lady was right. Iguazu is taller than Niagara, and it's 275 cascades are twice as wide. I came to South America for a whirlwind month about two years ago, which included a visit to some of the continent's highlights: Carnival in Rio de Janeiro, a few days in Buenos Aires, and of course the Falls. These gems were one of the reasons I came back for an extended period of time, as I regretted rushing through and only seeing a tiny piece of some amazing places. I've digressed. Back to Iguazu.

Jules was really keen to see the Falls on her visit, and I had no second thoughts about hopping on a bus and going for a second time. We had planned to do both the Brazilian and Argentinean sides in two days and one night, but after our seven hour "roadworks" delay, we had to extend it to two nights.

This meant two nights in the not-so-exciting Puerto Iguazu which has seriously no purpose other than as a pit-stop for the Falls (sorry Puerto Iguazuans). We did, however, make the most of our first night in this uninspiring town by eating great meat and drinking good wine, perhaps a little too much of the good wine. With benefit of alcohol, we put faith in our friendly waiter who said he'd take us to a club up the road. Unfortunately, all faith was lost when the club turned out to have closed hours before, so we chose bed over his idea of fun which was walking the deserted streets in search of beer. Thanks for the memories Puerto Iguazu.

The next morning we pulled ourselves out of bed (some may or may not have popped a few panadols), searched the streets far and wide for breakfast, and headed to the Argentinean side of the Falls. Here, we invested in the 'Grand Adventure Tour' which included a jeep tour through the surrounding rainforest and a boat ride. To be honest, I didn't get a great deal out of the rainforest part. We followed a man-made jeep trail for about 20 minutes with a guide who stopped to point out trees. Then again, I wouldn't call myself a nature fanatic. There were, however, a good number of butterflies.

My enthusiasm kicked in for the waterfalls - that part of the tour was unbelievable. Not only did we get in a speed boat that wildly meandered down the centre of the Brazilian and Argentine border, but it actually took us into the Falls, and I mean into! Of course, the force of the water meant we couldn't get all the way under (which is generally a plus as, if you could, there's no way you'd make it out), but we did get an idea of their enormity and intensity. While the spray from the pounding water soaks anyone within 50m from head to toe (as you can see in the pic), it's also difficult to breathe at times due the sheer barrage of water. The soaking part actually wasn't a bad thing as it was about 40 degrees that day. The breathing part was a minor drawback, but who needs air...

Having completed the lower circuit of the Argentine side, we spent the rest of the day wandering the upper-circuit. This included various trail walks along boardwalks and a trainride out to the 'Devil's Throat' (of which you get a better view from the Brazilian side). We also got some entertainment from an irate Argentine who blasted an American for feeding a monkey.

On my second time around I was reminded that the National Park makes a killing from tourists. To give you an idea, if you're Brazilian, Paraguayan or Argentinian, you can enter the park for a measly 5 pesos. Tourists, on the other hand, are charged a whopping 80 pesos! Seeing as I'd seen the Brazilian side on my last trip, I let my backpacking stinginess do the talking and on the following day opted for the hostel pool while the girls went exploring.

Am I a flashpacker?

Who knew there were different forms of backpackers? Armed with an oversized pack, wearing the same unwashed pair of jeans for weeks on end with a Rambo-style ambition to find the cheapest hostel or bargain the lowest price – is that not a backpacker? Not necessarily it would seem.

I had heard of the ‘flashpacking’ phenomenon before but thought the mere taking of my laptop traveling couldn’t possibly mean I was one of them. An ‘affluent’ backpacker. However, over the past few days, I think I’ve overstepped the mark. Crossed the line. Become a…flashpacker.

The girls and I decided we’d head to the Iguazu Falls and of course, a backpacker doesn’t fly (only flashpackers would consider this sort of thing, right?) So we decided to ‘rough it’ on an 18 hour bus ride. Roughing it turned into traveling on the ‘oh it’s just a bit more expensive’ first-class bus in ‘super-cama’ seats (basically seats that extend to 180 degrees – think first-class flying). We even had our own televisions, entrée, main and dessert, wine and…champagne before bed!! I think I could get used to this.

Concerned that I’d lost all backpacking dignity, my legal training led me to check the facts so I headed to the ultra-reliable source that is wikipedia, to see if I had any similarities with these so-called flashpackers. Well I was quite shocked to see just the variety of backpackers that apparently are out there. Not only do you have your regular backpacker, and of course flashpackers, but you also have ‘gap-packers’ and ‘megalopers’! I’m sure there’s more.

While our first-class bus did hit a protest (or ‘road works’ as informed by the bus driver) on the way, which created a 6 hour delay (how very backpacker), we did book the first class option back to BA. And, since then, we’ve also travelled to Uruguay first-class on a ferry (champagne on arrival)! But I put that one down to the economy class tickets being sold out.


I wonder, is it Jules’ high-life yacht sailing influence? Have I let the champagne get to my head? Is it because South America is so damn cheap? Whatever the reason I do plan to quash my recent flashpacking tendencies and return to the realm of the humble backpacker…soon.

Paris of the South

Buenos Aires can certainly claim this title with its colonial structures, wide avenues, alfresco dining, reliable metro, leafy plazas and countless monuments. It really is like being somewhere in France or Spain, particularly having come from Bolivia, which is about as far from Europe as you can get.

Our plan was always that we would get to BA, travel around for a few weeks, and then settle there for a couple of months and do an intensive Spanish course. This is my second visit to the city and I was quite excited about getting to know it. The plan has since gone out the window, for two main reasons. Firstly, since arriving, we’ve really felt it in the financial department. I think this is accentuated again by our Bolivian experience, where everything was cheap as chips. There’s also the constant temptation of good food, bars and shopping to which it’s very easy to give in and spend up. Secondly, Argentinean Spanish is quite different to the Spanish spoken in other Latino countries. For example, normally, the word ‘parrilla’ (grill) is pronounced ‘par-ee-ya’; here it is pronounced ‘par-ee-sha’. And ‘pollo’ (chicken) usually pronounced ‘po-yo’, is ‘po-sho’. This is unique to Argentina and considering we’re going to many other Spanish-speaking countries, both here and in Europe, we’ve decided it would be more practical to learn a more common dialect elsewhere. At this time, elsewhere is back in Bolivia, probably Sucre. There is, however, always the possibility that I might pack in the law thing, stay in BA and become a dog walker, very tempting considering I want to adopt every stray I find (we saw one guy walking about 15 dogs at once!).

Given that our time is limited, we still certainly plan to make the most out of BA. We spent a good four days with Jules, which was tainted by a suspicious case of food poisoning after a hostel ‘asado’ (various cuts of coal-cooked meat), coupled with Jules’ near death by pisco sour (the national drink of Chile and Peru) – that stuff is potent! Stomachaches were put aside however, and we soldiered on. We walked the streets and boutiques of Palermo and spent hours
wandering the San Telmo antique markets. We strolled down to La Boca, past the famous Boca Juniors football stadium and to the colourful birthplace of Tango. We also got to the Recoleta cemetery, best known for being the resting place of Eva Peron (Evita). She was the rags to riches wife of the President of Argentina and influenced the introduction of many social and economic programs for the working classes in the 1940s. Her global profile was probably also raised by the very average film ‘Evita’, starring Madonna and Antonio Banderas.

I think it’s safe to say that everyone’s taken advantage of the great food and wine on offer here. My favourite was a juicy steak at a place called ‘Desnivel’ in San Telmo. I also introduced the girls to my favourite Argentinean salsa, chimichurri, a delicious mix of herbs, garlic, olive oil and vinegar. I tried to make it once back home, but it just wasn't the same.








Jules being here for only two weeks has conveniently turned into a great excuse to play tourist. So far we plan to hit the tourist-hub of Iguazu Falls and also explore Uruguay. Stay tuned.

Cowboys and Cordoba

We were a little more active during our one day and night in Cordoba than we had been in Salta. Cordoba is the second-largest city in Argentina after Buenos Aires and is known as a lively university town however, being in the southern hemisphere, it's university holidays at the moment so it wasn't as busy as we'd thought. That wasn't an issue in the end as we'd been told about a festival in a town called Jesus Maria about an hour outside Cordoba so we caught a bus there that night.

It turns out the 'Festival de Doma y Folklore de Jesus Maria' is one of Argentina's largest festivals. We arrived at around 11pm to a flood of locals enjoying 'parrilla' and listening to live music in tents. The smell of meat and smoke from the barbeque was strong and, seeing as we'd had an Arabic meal back in Cordoba, we headed to the main stadium. Surprisingly, we were two of the few 'gringos' (foreigners). The place was packed with local families, most with young children, listening to live Latino bands and waving signs at cameras that panned across the crowd. After a while, the real show began. About 50 'gauchos' (cowboys) filed into the stadium on horseback to compete in a barrel race. This display was the epitome of machismo! Dressed to the nines in bombachas pants, neck scarves and boina hats, and egged on by the roaring crowed, they raced each other twice through the circuit, sharply manoevering their horses around each barrel. It was certainly an experience and, although we were tired the next day having got back early that morning, we were really glad to have seen it.

It wasn't all horse racing and cowboys, we managed to see the Cordoba zoo, tucked away on the city’s border in some parkland.

I haven’t been to a zoo since I was a kid, so it was great to re-live the golden years. We saw the usual – lions, tigers, reptiles, birds – but the highlight was definitely the hippos. Biggest hippos imaginable! Well maybe that’s exaggerating a little as I’ve not been to Africa, but these hippos were seriously big!

Unfortunately Cordoba zoo is no Taronga. Some of the ‘enclosures’ were hardly bigger than the animals themselves and many had little or no water supply, which, on the sweltering hot day that it was, was very concerning. And of course a visit to the zoo wouldn’t be the same without the ubiquitous South American risk factors. You could practically put your hands through the bars and touch the animals if you wanted, as you can see in my up-close-and-personal zebra shot here for which no zoom was needed (he was obviously a bit camera shy, given the angle). So my advice would be to put the kids on a leash next time you visit Cordoba zoo so they can leave with limbs.

Relaxing in Salta

So far this trip we've been on a schedule in order to get Mel back to Buenos Aires by the 14th for her flight home. This also coincided with a visit from Jules Heaton, a close friend of mine from uni who's been travelling the world working on yachts for the last couple of years. She was due to arrive in BA on the 15th. Things changed a little when Mel left us in Tupiza and flew from Salta in order to spend more time in BA, so Bec and I decided to use the extra days to visit Salta and Cordoba on the way through.

I think all the restless nights on buses and early mornings on the Salt Flats took a toll on us because over the few days that followed, we relished in resting and chilling out and didn't do a whole lot of touristy things. In saying that, we weren't completely lazy...

The northwestern city of Salta gave us an intro to the impressive hostel breakfast standard in Argentina. We've become accustomed to the stock standard stale bread and jam for breakfast, tea or coffee if you're lucky, rarely milk. Here, we were welcomed with delicious little pastries - some filled with apple, some strawberry, some dulce de leche (like caramel), and I had a couple of cups of tea. We've since discovered this is common in hostels here, so I'll have try hard not to make that a morning ritual if I want to avoid a more permanent reminder of Argentina!

Keeping to the topic of food, we ate well in Salta and loved sitting in the very European-like cafes set on the footpaths of the main square, enjoying the sunshine and the gorgeous colonial architecture (that's Bec enjoying the view). I had my first salad in who knows when, a real treat. To walk off all that food we climbed Mont San Bernardo which was something like 1178 steps, a mean feat when we could have taken a cable car. It was a stinking hot day so we didn't look our best when we reached the top but the iceblock and the view made it all worthwhile and softened the blow when we were told the cable car was having technical difficulties and we'd have to walk down. I guess it could have been worse. We could have been one of the people stuck in the car at the time.

We also went to the Museum of High Altitude Archaeology which displayed three more frozen Inca children who'd been sacrificed 500 years ago on Mount Llullaillaco, near the Chilean border. Turns out Junita the ice-maiden in Arequipa wasn't alone! This museum was much the same as the one in Arequipa, however it was difficult to fully enjoy it as the commentary had not been translated into English. Time for some Spanish lessons me thinks!

A warm welcome to the land of steak and vino

Steak and wine: two of my favourite things, and two reasons for my eagerness to get to Argentina. I have to say, Bolivia's preoccupation with carbohydrates was grating on the nerves a tad. Our first taste of Argentina was a long walk across the border - a couple of kilometres at least. We then joined what some might call a line in Bolivian immigration (I'd describe it as more of a scrum) and, after some time, skipped across to Argentina.

We had a five hour wait for our bus to Salta so Bec and I hit up a local restaurant and got stuck into a few drinks. Ironically, our first drink in the wine country was an Argentine beer called Quilmes. Here, beers come in litre bottles which makes waiting for buses all the more enjoyable. We decided that, being in Argentina and all, meat and wine were definitely on the agenda so we ordered a bottle of 'vino blanco' and an authentic Argentine grill known as 'parrilla'. This unexpectedly turned into a 'Who Eats Wins' session, and a big one at that. Neither of us had ever seen that much meat in one sitting. It was definitely photo worthy (included for your viewing pleasure - prizes for those who can name a meat). A couple were obvious, such as steak and chicken, but we had to guess the rest. I think there was blood sausage somewhere in there. Intestines maybe? Brains? Who knows?! Note to self for next time: stick with a trusty piece of steak or, in this country, 'bife de lomo' - reliable in goodness with no identification qualmes.

Rawhide!

We began to notice a change in atmosphere as we headed south towards the Bolivian/Argentine border: horseback-riding cowboys, dusty roads and red cacti-covered hills - everything got a tad country and western, almost like a scene from a John Wayne movie. And what better incentive than that to get my cowgirl on, as they say: 'When in Rome...'.

Once we finally arrived in Tupiza after our bus ordeal, we booked a three hour horse ride around the outskirts for the following morning. Apparently Butch Cassidy and the Sundance kid are buried somewhere in these parts - a little known country and western fact brought to you by moi. I took what I thought was the safe option and told the tourist office that I'd had no horse riding experience, believing that the limited skills I acquired on family holidays when I was young wouldn't suffice and thinking that, on hearing this, they'd give me the slow grandpa horse.

On a side note, here are some more facts on Bolivia. The topic? Safety standards. There are none! This seems to be the case in South America generally. After a few touch and go moments on the unfenced Inca Trail, the 'Death Road' experience was the ultimate confirmation. The result is that I now can't really be surprised when safety standards are lapse on adventurous occasions, so I wont say I was surprised when we got a guide who couldn't speak a word of English, were provided with no head protection and when I, the inexperienced one, was given a horse that I named 'Sparky' because he'd take it upon himself to bolt ahead at any moment, unprovoked. What's more, at the point of the ride where we were led off the trail to climb vertical points on the red hills, I just held my breath.

I have to hand it to Bolivia though as there's certainly no shortage of gimmicks for tourists to delight in. On the 'Death Road' bike tour we got a 'Going Down's Never Been Better' t-shirt (very classy), and a bandanna. On the horse ride we were equipped with chaps and cowboy hats for our camera clicking pleasure. Now that's something!

In saying all that, the horse riding was a lot of fun. The three of us set off on a gorgeous morning, the colours of the red hills and green cacti against the blue sky were stunning, and by the end I'd remembered how to stay on a horse while trotting (I didn't really have a choice in this, given Sparky's attitude). The only down side to it all was that I waddled around like I'd had an accident in my pants for the next three days. Apparently horse riding is rigorous on the thighs - who knew?!


Apart from the horse riding we mostly chilled out in Tupiza - a wander around the black markets, a couple of 'Who Eats Wins' sessions (black potatoes this time, as well as an unidentified meat and 'Mocochinchi', a dehydrated peach cider that looked like it contained a shriveled foetus at the bottom - sorry to be graphic). FYI, the tally so far sits at Claire: 6; Food poinsoning: 1. Game on.

We also watched 'The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas' which wasn't the most uplifting film I've seen all year. I would however recommend 'Sunshine Cleaning' for something quirky.

And then there were two...

I realise I'm yet to introduce my fellow travellers - whoops! I've not been roaming the continent by myself, contrary to popular belief. We arrived in Lima as four: (R-L) Alex, Mel, Bec and myself. We all went to high school together, I was one year ahead. Alex left us in Cusco to head home for Christmas and Mel stayed two months before leaving us in Tupiza and heading south to Buenos Aires to fly home for uni.


That leaves Bec and me. We got to know each other after school as we studied the same course at UNSW. Since then, we've both deferred employment for the travel bug addiction and will be spending the next year abroad together. Feel free to visit us at any stage along the way, we love visitors. We already have a special guest appearance from Hurricane Heaton who'll be sweeping through Buenos Aires on the 15th. Can't wait!

What you didn't know about Bolivian buses

Fact: You don't need to book a seat to travel long distances by bus in Bolivia. In fact, many locals bring the whole family and sit in the aisle partaking in various activities which include card playing, chicken eating or sleeping while standing up and/or lying down.

Fact: Animals of all types are allowed to travel long distance on Bolivian buses, with or without a cage (and possibly with or without owner). There are usually no toilet stops on Bolivian buses.

Fact (according to my guide book): 95% of Bolivian roads are unpaved. Consequently, the majority of a long distance bus trip will more than likely occur off-road. Off-road driving can be hazardous when it's been raining. We experienced this first hand on our night bus trip from Uyuni to Tupiza. The trip supposedly takes six hours, however, at 1.30am we were unlucky enough to get bogged in an unpaved section of road resulting in our six hour trip lasting 14 hours. The up side was witnessing the local remedy for bogged buses: jacking the wheels and placing shrubs under them. Not surprisingly this method had its flaws and we waited until 6.30am for a tow truck.

Potosi and Salar de Uyuni

Our plan was to move south from Sucre and that's just what we did - Potosi and the famous Bolivian Salt Flats were next on our list. With the thought of a three day, two night jeep tour around the Salt Flats ahead, Potosi was a nice place to chill out.



Claimed to be the highest city in the world - it sits at 4090m above sea level - Potosi is well known for its silver mining history and also, I have since learned, the exploitative nature of the industry. Apparently there are still 7,000 workers who mine the 120 operative mines in which pulleys were only introduced a few years ago (the bonus being miners now no longer haul rock loads on their backs). The mines were the subject of a 2005 documentary film called 'The Devil's Miner' which follows a 14 year old boy and his 12 year old brother who work there. I'm yet to see it. Many tourists take part in mine tours in Potosi. I guess one perspective is that such a tour would open your eyes to the type of labour and conditions in the mine, but I wasn't keen to partake. Not only had I heard that, surprise surprise, it's a real struggle to breath down there, as well as claustrophobic, but I didn't particularly want to make a spectacle of the men and children who work there every day. In saying that, I met people who got a lot out of the tour, so each to their own.

After one night in Potosi we continued south to Uyuni where we booked for the jeep tour of the Salt Flats, leaving the following day. The tour was great. We saw the flats on the fist day - so vast and...flat. Of course we had to take the corny tourist pics (including this one of us girls with our NZ friend Cliff). The next day we headed into the National Park and saw plenty of flamingos, lagoons, Illamas and mountains. On the third and final day, after waking at 4.30am, we saw a wonderful sunrise on the way to some geysers - Mel and Cliff even had a dip in some hot springs. We then said goodbye to Cliff at the Chilean border and turned around for the long trip back to Uyuni where we'd booked a night bus to Tupiza. Little did we know the night would be eventful...

Happy New Year from Sucre!

To be honest, I can’t say I was sad to leave La Paz in the end. On top of the drink spiking incident we’d also found out that there were no longer tours of the San Pedro prison since an uprising a few months ago. This had been something I’d really wanted to do so the news was a bit of a downer.

We’d planned to welcome 2010 in Oruro, with the intention of heading south to the Salt Flats, however, things changed when we arrived there. Having travelled four hours on an over-crowded bus that smelled of BO and chicken - with a few un-caged pet cats thrown in for good measure - we were deterred by the fact the place was flooded, and the vibe seemed very uninspiring and a little depressing. This resulted in our booking a night bus to Sucre, a city of about 200,000 and the judicial capital of Bolivia (La Paz is the executive and legislative capital). This meant we could also enjoy some great food and wine at ‘Restaurant Nayjama’, of which the master chef, Don Roberto, has been plugged by the Lonely Planet as being particularly hospitable. That he was. He recommended a lovely Bolivian red and chatted to us about his many travel experiences. He even insisted we take 20 of the 40 Boliviano tip for the cab ride home (we didn’t).


We arrived in Sucre on December 31 with enough time for a siesta in our lovely European-inspired hostel. After doing the typical backpacker thing and drinking with other travellers in the hostel, we headed to a local bar where there was a ‘beach party’ underway (i.e. the floor was covered in imported sand – luckily I wore thongs!) The New Year was a bit of an anti-climax - no countdown or anything – but the all-you-could drink beer meant I was unfazed. We even spotted some fireworks in the main Plaza 25 de Mayo, and Bec and I enjoyed a ‘who eats wins’ session with some suspicious meat from a local vendor in the square, all the time hoping we weren’t eating dog.

Happy New Year!

My blonde moment (which at least ended happily with some cheeky monkeys)

Note: Mum and Dad you may want to skip this post…

Everyone has blonde moments, or in my case violet crumble moments (I may be brunette on the outside but there’s a little bit of blonde there in the middle). After completing a bike riding expedition on the ‘Death Road’, also known as the most dangerous road in the world, I must say I did have to question my intelligence. The road’s reputation isn’t a beat up. When the road was open, some estimate that 200-300 people died on it yearly. The worst accident was in 1983 when a bus ran off the road killing 100. Accidents still occur.


A quarter of the 68km ride was on a paved road, which gave us breathtaking views of snow capped mountains, some of the most beautiful I’ve seen. The trucks that hurtled by only metres away were, however, a slight distraction from the picturesque surrounds. The real challenge came when we hit the gravel road. Not only was it a mere 3m wide, but the loose rocks meant you could skid over at any time, I nearly did on many occasions. Oh, and don’t let me forget to mention that the rules of the road meant we rode on the left hand side, inches away from the sometimes 1000m drop into the lush valley below – particularly scary when approaching blind corners. Putting these factors together with the fact that I can’t remember the last time I rode a bike, let alone went mountain-bike riding, you can imagine how terrifying it was. The muscles in my hand definitely came off second best because of the force and constancy at which I was gripping the brakes. Having said all that, it was an amazing morning and I didn’t fall off once. Our tour guide had said that, on average, the company sends two people to hospital weekly, so I was quite proud of myself for not becoming a statistic and suffering two hospital stints in one week.

Some footage was taken of our trip on the day and below is a video I complied which includes some pics (along to Billy Idol for dramatic effect so pump up the volume). In most of the videos I’m second from the end in the white top with the look of terror on my face; Bec follows behind.

We were all very relieved to reach Los Yungas, which sported a great view of the gorgeous Coroico perched above on the opposite hill। A real treat came as part of the package, where we had a pasta lunch at the Sende Verde animal sanctuary in the jungle at the bottom, which also boasts some comfy accommodation. Here, volunteers work hard to rehabilitate various species of animals, and visitors are able to play with many of them. I got to cuddle a very cute coatis who loved nibbling on my ears (romantic), and I also had fun with three very cheeky little monkeys who
nearly stole my camera! There were macaws, boa constrictors and a bear, and I made sure I had a photo with Boris the Golden Retriever, which made me miss my Golden, Lily, back home.

I’ve always been an animal lover and although we only spent two hours at the sanctuary, I got a lot out of it. There was one special monkey, Manny, who made me think I might volunteer myself some time along the way. He’d obviously been domesticated and his owner had abandoned him after first crushing his little fingers with a hammer. The volunteers were working to alleviate his constant fear of doing the wrong thing and also to re-socialise him with other monkeys.

A spike in the journey: my Bolivian hospital stay

I try to embrace the good and the bad when traveling, you come to expect it. This philosophy was certainly put to the test in La Paz. I was unlucky enough to have my drink spiked on Boxing Day resulting in my being whisked off to hospital and placed on a drip and pumped with diuretics for the night and the whole of the following day. It was pretty frightening, particularly as none of the staff spoke English - thank goodness my doctor was the only one who did! The up side was that my wonderful friends stayed by my side and once we knew I’d be ok we were all able to laugh at the retro muumuu they’d put me in. It was an experience to say the least, perhaps not the most fashionable!

Christmas in La Paz

We wanted to be in a big city for Christmas so we could be with other orphan travelers, so we headed to La Paz. La Paz is a beautiful city to look at. Surrounded by mountains it cascades down like a filter, the CBD and a few high rises are the epicentre. This means a lot of uphill walking.

Arriving in La Paz on December 23, we checked into an Irish-run hostel and then went to check out the famous Witch Doctors’ market, where you could find all the potions and charms you desired. There most common item were llama foetuses, but there were also, according to my guide book: frogs for good fortune, turtles for long life, owls for knowledge, snakes for progression/moving in the right direction, and pumas to help you achieve victory over an enemy. Good luck getting some of those through customs! Unfortunately the rest of the afternoon was spent at the tourist police station, as Mel’s camera was pick-pocketed.


On the 24th we got dressed up for the ‘Naughty Santa and Sexy Miss Claus’ Christmas Eve party and took advantage of Happy Hour. The time difference was a bonus as I was able to duck out mid-dancing to skype the family back home who were just sitting down to Christmas lunch.


On Christmas Day the hostel put on a ‘dinner’ at 4pm. We sat with some Irish guys we’d met the night before and sipped on hot port, a traditional Irish Christmas drink. The combination of waiting for hours to be served, Christmas spam and cold apple pie made me a tad homesick, especially for aunty Jules’ Christmas pud! In the end there was such a ridiculous amount of leftovers that a few of us collected it up in plastic bags and took it out to the many homeless that sat in the cold on the streets outside. At one stage I had about eight children grabbing at me, desperate for food, which was both confronting and heartbreaking. At least we filled some bellies on Christmas Day.

At the Copa, Copacabana

Our first taste of Bolivia was a breezy run through immigration consisting of physically walking 500m across the border and countless kangaroo jokes from officials. Entry to Copacabana set us back a whole one boliviano (about $0.15 AU). I enjoyed chilling out in Copa after going on a strenuous walk up the Calvario, where the stations of the Cross overlook the beach (rocks). Unfortunately Mel and I got a touch of food poisoning from a dodgy ham sandwich but luckily it didn’t set in before we enjoyed some fajitas and trout curry – yum!

Puno and the islands of Lake Titicaca

After the dazzling Arequipa we jumped on a bus and headed to Puno. Puno is perched on the Peruvian side of Lake Titicaca, the highest lake in the world sitting at about 3,830m above sea level. Luckily we’re well adjusted to the altitude since arriving in Cusco so it doesn’t bother us anymore.

After a lunch of ‘sopa de pollo diet’ (which, after a ‘who eats wins’ session, I found out is chicken broth with noodles and a chicken drumstick, ‘diet chicken soup’ when translated (WTF?)), we headed back to our hostel with plans for an early night as we’d booked a tour of the Lake Titicaca islands the next day. We ended up playing Kings in the hostel bar til the early hours but nevertheless made it for the 7.30am the next day.

The tour lasted two days and one night and included a home stay on Isla Amantani. The first stop was the floating island of Uros on which locals actually live and work, their livelihood is predominately the tourist trade, the making and selling of handicrafts and boat rides around the lake etc.

After a lengthy boat trip we arrived on Amantani and met our host family, a lovely Quechuan- speaking couple called Florentino and Victoria. Our time spent with them was one big game of charades, as both they and us spoke very little

Spanish, and English was out of the question. They showed us to our room (the ceiling was a few inches taller than me) and fed us quinoa soup, rice and veggies. All in all it was a great experience, highlights were a walk up to one of the island’s peaks - ‘Pachatata’ (Father Earth), a night out dancing wearing the islanders’ traditional clothes (sorry, no pics – too embarrassing!) after which we walked home on an unsealed road in a thunderstorm, and a taste of some delicious local trout on Isla Taquile.

Arequipa and its 'adventures'

The girls and I made a split decision to move on to Puno and Lake Titicaca via Arequipa. We were told Arequipa was worth visiting for a couple reasons. The first was to see the exhibit of 'Juanita the frozen ice maiden' - a mummy discovered in 1995 on the top of Mount Ampato, just outside Arequipa. She was sacrificed as a child by the Incas around 500 years ago when she was aged between 12 and 14, and her body remained preserved by the freezing temperatures. There have been several other bodies found since on Ampato and other mountains, but none have been in such a condition as Juanita.


Another reason we went to Arequipa was to visit the Colca Canyon, apparently the biggest in the world (even bigger than the Grand Canyon). We took a two day tour on what felt like the bumpiest road in the world which the tour guide enthusiastically told us that it was 'all part of the adventure'. The adventure got even better when she told us we were taking the same road back... . The highlight of the tour was probably the many 'who eats wins' opportunities along the way. Oh, and we got to see a couple of condors flying in the Canyon, along with about a thousand endangered vicunas - the bus driver stopping at every one for a photo opp. A low-light was definitely driving past a tour bus that had run off the road and was lying on its side. On the way back it was upright but had been painted white so we couldn't read the tour company name - not very uplifting for us tourists!















The overall opinion was that Arequipa itself wouldn't win city of the year. Known as the 'White City', it is very pretty and had some beautiful architecture - including the gorgeous 400 year old Santa Catalina Monestery - but it lacks character (and places to eat that sell something other than chicken!) and we were happy to move on to Puno. In fact, I think I've dedicated more than enough blog space to Arequipa. That is all.