Tim and Tam arrive in Patagonia...

I removed the remains of my French manicure this morning on arrival in Puerto Madryn, Patagonia.

I had pretty toes all the way through Bolivia, where in contrast to life in Cartegena, posh toes are totally incongruous. It`s a tough country

I`m glad I was with my lovely friends from Brighton, Kath and Tim....but Bolivia surprised me in many ways i.e I survived the altitude without much problem, didn`t get sick as everyone seems to and the landscape was out of this world. Literally.

But we did experience wanna-be bag thieves on rickety buses (fixed with Sellotape and smelling of wee) narrowly missing an upturned truck and getting stuck in a roadblock...

We visited the infamous San Pedro prison, La Paz, where the prisoners tried to sell us cocaine and afterwards, spent 4 days in a Landrover with a throat full of dust, exploring the desert, salt plains and rainbow mountains. Red, white and turquoise lagoons, peppered with hundreds of pink flamingoes. Incredible. Stayed in ramshackle houses in the middle of the desert and a hotel entirely constructed of salt too (we even licked the walls to prove it!)

It`s wonderful to be back in Argentina now though. Massive contrast, after the raw craziness of Bolivia. Loving the Argentine people and their fabulous wine. After not being able to drink more than one beer without falling asleep for three weeks, we have made up for lost time. In Mendoza we were wine tasting in the countryside by 10.30 am!

My friends left for Chile and I made a brief stop in sizzling Buenos Aires, where unlike the first visit, I was able to meet loads of people and experience some of the city´s relentless nightlife. There I met a boy called Tim and we decided to get the overnight bus which arrived this morning...

Colombia`s great. Don`t give a FARC what others tell you.

Ok, so you deserve more about Colombia than that last pitiful excuse.

Cartegena, on the Caribbean coast, is spectacular. A real gem. (fitting then, that the country`s second largest export are emeralds.)

This place has passion. Oodles of it. Sexy street dance, fiestas and lazy siestas.

Think Latin American Seville, where the beautiful and seriously stylish sip coffee and sashay around under quaint Spanish flower draped balconies. Image is everything - it`s top of the worldchampion league for plastic surgery - some of the breasts around here would give Pamela Anderson a run for her money.

The Miss Colombia pageant has been running while I`ve been here, so exquistely slender doe-eyed, dark haired girls are here in their hundreds which could make a gringo stand out in the crowd. For all the wrong reasons!

There`s lots of this country I regret missing out on but have only just made it up the coast to overwhelmingly hot, but chilled and beautiful Taganga and Tayrona National Park. Met some lovely travellers (as well as a few not-so-lovely Brits on the look out for cheap drugs, threesomes and fights. They get everywhere.) But I really didn`t want to leave!

And tomorrow, after a gruelling day on a lot of aeroplanes, I`m off to La Paz. A city different in every way imaginable. In preparation and true Colombian spirit, I`ve treated myself to a full manicure and pedicure, darling. The prettiest fingers and toes in backpackerdom.

Cartegena, Colombia

The lazy person`s guide....

Goodbye Ecuador...

I`ve done a few uncharacteristic things over the last few months, like; climbing muddy, very active volcanos, crawled on my stomach through small underground tunnels, hiked all day, waded through amazonian mud swamps (full of leaches), swam with electric eels, stingrays, anacondas and sharks, found tarantulas in my bedroom, cockroaches in my lunch, fished (caught my first one - a piranha!) visited a shaman, ate lots of soup containing popcorn and chips, molycoddled monkeys, fed lions, bears and jaguars and shouted `Goooooooool!' at the top of my voice when Ecuador score at the beautiful game...

Two and a half months in Ecuador may have changed me. Certainly some of the experiences I`ve had here have been some of the best so far. But the fact you never get what you pay for is driving me slightly insane. My friend told me that her friends had recently come to Ecuador to cash in on the opportunity for cheap plastic surgery. Fine, if you're happy to risk the fact you want wrinkle reduction but actually come out with smaller boobs. That`s how it is here. Get used to it.

I`ve just come back from 2 glorious weeks in the Galapagos (would`ve been a whole lot less stressful if the airline hadn`t cancelled both of my flights and I hadn`t had to be rescued at sea because both motors on the twin engine boat conked out!) But I already miss the fish market in Pelican Bay where sealions and pelicans beg for fish scraps like a pack of hungry dogs. I`m convinced Tortuga Bay on Santa Cruz is the most beautiful beach in the world, with huge marine iguanas and small white tip reef sharks basking in the shallow surf...

I`ve said enough. On to Colombia tomorrow....until next time....

Having a whale of a time...

apologies for my absence. i´m not really sure if anyone´s reading anymore anyway! since the last entry, things have been somewhat less relaxed. I´ve completed a whip-round gringo tour of southern peru in less than two weeks and though i´m glad i´ve seen the things i´ve seen i can´t say it was an altogether pleasurable experience. and it cost a small fortune. i never want to go on another gringo tour as long as I live!

the peruvians are getting to grips with mass tourism and offer what they think the tourist wants. so you get this weird simulacra peru instead of the real one. everywhere you go you´re confronted with a woman in traditional dress, trailing a dutiful llama. even at the top of a large hill on an island in the middle of lake titicaca, there´s the obligitory pan pipe band, complete with amp. if i see another gringo buffet lunch or hear another tour guide screeching down a mic, (or worse, at macchu pichu they had really loud whistles) I think I´ll scream.

It´s refreshing to be somewhere new. I´m in ecuador until late november and am currently living with a lovely family in quito brushing up on the spanish...

we went to the coast for the weekend (a 10 hour bus journey) but all was worth it. i now know where the expression used for the title of this blog came from. on the way to a national park island just off the coast, our small boat was surrounded by humpback whales. they were having so much fun jumping right out of the water, in pairs, over and over again for almost an hour! it was like a montage of the best bits of the blue planet played out right before

my eyes. one of the best days of my life....

R & R in Praia do Forte

If I´ve got deja vu so have the locals, many of whom recognise me from a Christmas holiday here in 2006.

It´s a touristy, (somewhat middle-class) sleepy little fishing village with little to do everyday but watch turtles, whales and some very sexy surfers in the glorious sunshine.

It´s a hard life but someone´s got to do it.

And then there was one.....

Just a quick update to let you know that I´m now going solo as my travelling partner ditched me (by email! Apparently I didn´t want to do the same things she did blah, blah, blah) I am nervous, very - and have had a few sleepless nights but have decided to go on and see how it goes.

Please don´t worry, I will be OK. There are gringos everywhere, plus I met a lovely girl, Louise, in Rio so we´re travelling together for a bit.

We´re in Salvador right now, staying in the Pelirinho - the pretty, cobbled old part of the city with a very dark history. Went to my first candomble ceremony the other night. Was relieved yet disappointed not to be witness to any exorcisms, psychotropic drug taking or sacrificial rites. Just a load of women in big lacy dresses and fancy head dresses dancing in a trancelike fashion to some hypnotic drums.

We area eating wonderful mocqueca (traditional Bahian stew without the fish brain juice I unwittingly consumed in Rio!) and falling asleep most nights to the sound of the most amazing drums.

Leaving today though and am looking forward to it since my camera was ripped off from across my body yesterday. Have a sneaky feeling the kids sell them back to the shops so at least have done my bit for the local economy....

Life in the favela

I had mixed feelings about a favela tour. I didn´t want to be a typical gringo, gawping at those less fortunate as if they were animals in a zoo. It was only when I learned that the money we contribute is used by NGO´s to support the favela, that I justified the trip. Besides, I reasoned, you can´t ignore something that is intrinsically such a huge part of life in Rio. Just sweep it under the carpet while we carry on enjoying life in well-to-do Ipanema.

The tour started with a hair-raising motorbike taxi ride, dodging and weaving trucks, buses and cars at breakneck speed up to the very top. Rocinha is a sprawling hillside neighbourhood. The biggest favela in South America.

The narrow network of streets were designed that way, apparently, to make police evasion easier. People on lookouts inform of police arrival with use of flares. However, we were told that incidents between law enforcers and residents occur on a daily basis. And usually involve guns.

We were given one rule; do not take photos of men with guns or walkie talkies. Dealers do not take kindly to being imortalised in a gringo´s holiday pics. We started a rapid decent (didn´t do to dawdle) through one of the main arteries of the favela (street 1) It was hard to imagine this narrow, dark, dirty, rubbish, excrement-filled passageway as a main street. The stench of open sewer clawed at my throat and as I stepped in puddles of unidentified liquids, I wished I had worn something more practical than flip-flops.

Drugs earn the favela between $US 1-3 million a month, by which time half a tonne of cocaine has changed hands. The ADA (amigo de amigos) are the controlling gang. Disputes among rivals are common.

Other than that, life carried on as normal. People enjoyed the benefits of electricity and running water. Most have mod cons and government subsidised cable TV. The locals were friendly and welcoming. We visited a gallery, a bakery (keen to capitalise on a recent visit from Lenny kravitz, they sold ´Kravitz bread pudding´) and saw where our money went when we visited a nursery. Adorable, smiling, happy little faces made me sad as i realised that many of their parents couldn´t afford to look after them and couln´t help wondering what their future might hold. Decent education is a priviledge of the rich.

Despite this, the sky was full of evidence of children enjoying their holidays. Kites twitched and fluttered over the multitude of decripit roof tops, some kids taunted us with the only English vocab they knew ´Gringo´, ´money´, ´photo´.....

Really glad I came but left, intrigued wanting to experience and learn more frustrated by the fact the only (safe) way to do so is on the internet.....

January River

It´s difficult to write about Rio retrospectively. I didn´t think I´d find a beach city - bar Barcelona - much cooler than Brighton. Rio for all its dangers, is intoxicating. We came for two days, wound up staying as many weeks and i still don´t want to leave.

Its green hills and mountains, magnificent bays and glittering harbour humbled by Christ the Redeemer, make it unforgettable. Coupled with Latinos, immaculate bodies in thongs and speedos on crowded sand, sexy Samba rhythms emanating from bars, caipirhinas, uppercrust Ipanema, poodles in socks, vine-entangled trees on cobblestone streets, hillside favelas, nighttime shotgun sounds made incongruous by the rising sun.

We tore ourselves away for a few days of tranquility in Paraty - a four hour bus ride south of Rio. A sleepy town, row apon row of pretty whitewashed houses, huge cobbles, bohemian boutiques, boat trips ferrying tourists to the many neighbouring islands. Only a world-famous literary festival and rising prices forced us out.

I write this looking out over a bay of fishing boats, the sound of waves lapping at the shore. Thick green hills, tops obscured by cloud. Palm fringed beaches and it must be said, an abundance of 19-year old Brits on the lovely Ilha Grande.

An overcast day, we´re saving one of the many beautiful beaches for tomorrow. Was considering an island trek until the mention of poisonous snakes persuaded me to sit here instead....

'Real' nightmare...

Bank with Cooperative? Think twice before you travel to this part of the world....

From BA (where, on my last night, I fell of the wagon and ate the biggest juiciest steak imaginable) we got an exceedingly comfortable bus - with champagne - to Puerto Iguazu. The beauty of the falls defies description - suffice to say, I´ve never seen anything so astoundingly beautiful in my life. Apparently they make Niagra look like a ripple.

We ´did' the Brazilian side as soon as we got off the bus. The rain was relentless but we were gonna get wet anyway. A small bridge (with metal flooring you could see through) took you out over the heart of the falls where you could look down at certain death. A humbling, spiritual and quite terrifying moment for us both, I think.

The Argentinian side took the whole of the next day - many people say it´s better but it´s simply because there´s more of it. Waterfalls and rainbows as far as the eye can see. The wildlife was pretty impressive too - iridescent blue butterflies, blue jays and raccoons that scared the living daylights out of me as I was chased by a pack and had been told they carried rabies. It wasn´t until they ransacked my shoe bag with their sharp claws in search of food, that I realised it wasn´t my flesh they were after! We were on the lookout for toucans, pumas and jaguars too but, perhaps luckily, weren´t rewarded.

The highs of travelling come with lows and these came as soon as we crossed the border into Foz do Iguacu in search of a bus to take us to Rio. Foz isn´t very nice but the hostel was amazing - tennis courts, football pitch, swimming pool, beautifully kept tropical gardens and cute cabins. Or it would have been amazing if it hadn´t been bone-achingly cold, wet and deserted. The misery was consolidated by no heating and an open, now muddy restaurant in which I got food poisoning. I spent the day trying, unsuccessfully, to find a cash point that would let us withdraw reais (thanks to Cooperative banks´ over-scrupulous security policy) and the night sweating and starving out a fever. Weak and tired the next day, we discovered that we could only get a sleeper bus in Argentina! So here we are again. Back over the border in Puerto Iguazu with the buses to Rio fully booked till Monday. Realised that in just two days we missed the Spanish language and the familiarity of Argentina. It´s lovely to have a rest too...this travelling malarkey´s great but can take it right out of you!

Montevideo

Someone asked me what Uruguay was famous for. Like meat pies in tins? Well, they gave us Fray Bentos. Didn´t make the pilgrimage as couldn´t persuade Sare that it was worth the t-shirt! (wonder why?!)

On Friday we were invited to a Friends of the Earth press conference in the capital, Montevideo. It was followed by a tribunal review (including ruling party MPs) - they're doing a lot of campaigning against European companies in SA. I only wish I understood it! The speakers directly addressed us thinking we were journos but we met the enthusiastic quick-fire Spanish with confused stares!

We were told Montevideo was a pretty city but didn´t appreciate it till the last day - on a bus (pumping out Bob Marley) when the sun came out. Its dirty elegance certainly looks better in the right light. It´s scattered with the familiar market filled plazas, kioskos and radio taxis like BA but the latter feels unabashedly opulent by comparison. Not sure why the shantytowns outside Montevideo surprised me either.

I can´t help feeling we came here at the wrong time of year because we´ve had to bypass some of Uruguay´s most beautiful beaches after being told some didn´t have electricity and we´d face polar conditions. (and how much would princess Tamara not like that?!)

Being back in BA has put a smile on my face (at least until a cab driver ripped us off with fake currency) Off to the Iguassu Falls tomorrow....16 hours by bus...bring it on!

Colonia del Sacramento

Our last day at Buenos Aires University didn´t pass without celebration for I braved the infamous San Telmo pub crawl....but I can´t give you many details!

Despite the cockroaches, I was sad to leave BA. Don´t think I´ve met friendlier people anywhere.

We´re now just over the water in the charming little town called Colonia del Sacramento, Uruguay. It´s a UNESCO heritage site and it´s easy to see why. Cobbled streets, quaint colonial architecture, a beach and calm make a stark contrast to the craziness of BA.

We´re very much here in low season and winter has very definitely taken hold, so most of the restaurants are empty and away from the old town, there´s an air of desolation about the place. Sometimes I have to pinch myself to remember what continent I´m on. Architecture here is undergoing an identity crisis - it ranges from thatched Cornish cottage, to a Spanish villa next door to an alpine hut.

The air has a distinct 70´s feel about it. Most of the vehicles were built then and haven´t seen an MOT since. I can imagine how this lovely little place comes alive in the summer but I slept in my clothes last night. Wasn´t expecting that of South America at sea level! I´ve been curled up by a roaring fire, with a nice red wine and good company for hours so at least I´ve quit me whinging!

Metamorphosis

BsAs is becoming smaller these days but unfortunately the same can´t be said for the cockroaches, which despite a second attempt at fumigation, are still very much alive and crawling. We´re getting used to the stench of insecticide. Not for the first time, I´ve imagined we could feature in a plot not dissimilar to Kafka's 'Metamorphosis´

I win the bimbo point this time. Out at a waterside restaurant in the city´s smart refurbished port, Puerto Madero, I see a large, black insect crawling under the table. Feet up on the chair next to me, in a blind paralysed panic I croak 'GET SOMEONE!!´at a bewildered Sare who obediently rushes off to get a waiter. I´m having visions of the large roach scurrying up my chair, thinking about it´s repulsiveness being just inches away. I´m so scared, I can´t even move my eyeballs.

The whole restaurant is looking but I don´t care. A concerned looking waiter comes to my aid. It feels like eternity. Under the table, he catches it in his bare hands, looks at me and smiles. I can see what he is thinking.

'Stupid English. How can someone be so pathetic? Scared of a harmless little cricket.'

Ouch.

The house of horrors

Unfortunately I can´t yet say in Spanish "The drains are blocked", "The kitchen pipework´s leaking", "They are demolishing an internal wall next door, it´s adjacent to my bedroom and the noise is intolerable" or "There´s a cockroach under my bed, AGAIN"

Broken English

Is it just me or does second language immersion f*** with your head? I say this because something strange is happening to my mother tongue. Words over two syllables are not so easily retrieved and you end up thinking in a British-slowed-down-simplified-for-non-native-speakers, patois.

Sacrificing my reasonably extensive use of English vocabulary to make room in my little brain for "I want a swimming hat, please" or "I really like ginger" in Spanish. Managed to squeeze out a comprehensible "We have no hot water" today - living in this flat becomes more like some kind of permanent campsite everyday.

We sampled some Tango again last night - as Sare so eloquently puts it in her blog "Everybody tango's here. Everybody. Including people you wouldn't expect. 'Cool' guys with beany hats, uncool guys in football shirts, men who look about ninety"

Everybody, that is, except me. I´m sure you can guess what I was doing.

It was pretty cool despite my lack of participation. A young guy caressed an accordion, another pounded a battered piano with such passion and mastery, you could feel the air quake. All the while, the dancefloor was full of embracing couples performing what on Discovery Channel would only be described as an elaborate mating ritual - but oh, so damn sexy.

No tengo dinero o Marmite pero muchas cucharachas

...and as anyone that knows me well, this means crisis.

The money thing´s a right pain in the arse - despite numerous emails to the letting agent my rent is 3 weeks late. So I´m in South America with an empty bank account and a flat which, despite an attempt at fumigation by a man who really looked like he spends too long with cockroaches, is full of them.

I´m a nervous wreck before getting the cereal out of the food cupboard, putting shoes on or going to the bathroom - actually to be honest, all the time. I am convinced they´re out to get me and there´s nothing I can do about it.

Worse still, I´ve run out of Marmite. I´ve posted pleas on a Buenos Aires expat site asking where I can get some and some kind soul has responded with a recipe to make my own with brewers yeast and soy sauce. Hmmmmm.

Thankfully, the Spanish course is getting better so we´ve found ourselves getting a crammed tube to Uni every morning and coming home with homework. Am looking forward to the day when I don´t have to say ´Lo siento, no comprendo. Soy Inglesa y no hablo Espanol´ every time someone tries to communicate!

In an attempt to do something about our rapidly increasing waistlines, we´ve got health club membership so feel very much like card-carrying BA citizens with our daily routine. Just as well as we´re fast discovering that Buenos Aires lives by night. People don´t go out till 11pm and don´t have to be 22 to stay out till breakfast.

Swimming today, I decided that Sare and I would award each other ´Bimbo points´ to whoever performs the most brainless act of the day. Today´s point goes to Sare for losing her locker key in the deep end!

Great expectations....

Happily, our uneasy coexistence with our uninvited flatmates will soon be resolved by a bit of expert fumigation. It can´t happen soon enough for my liking.

Since the last blog, it was recommended we take a daytrip to the coastal town of Tigre. The tourist information was, helpfully, closed (but probably about as much use as an open one - they seem to hand you anything just to get rid of you!)

On exiting the spacious, clean station, the first thing we noticed was a McDonald´s strategically placed on a pretty riverside, lined with willow trees. Felt very European and reminded me of the Thames at Shepperton lock! Noisy motorised catamarans ferried tourists up and down the Delta. The town itself had an air of desolation and I couldn´t help thinking we must be missing something.

To console ourselves, we joined the snap-happy river crew but were soon corralled onto the boat equivalent of a National Express coach. Such a beautiful day and we were to be contained indoors.

The Delta´s silt islands boasted an array pretty stilt houses but not really worth getting the camera out for - bar one exception. The ex-president´s holiday home was one of the weirdest things I´ve seen, having been hermetically sealed in a glass box!

We´ve explored some more of the city´s fantastic parks. Parque 3 de Febrero is home to an expanse of lush green palm trees and boating lakes. It´s much like Central Park but the many parakeets and lovers embracing or practising Tango, give it a distinctly Latino feel.

Sunday is San Telmo market day. It´s so different to Palermo and most other barrios in the city. Beautiful crumbling buildings, cobbled streets lined with trendy shops, antiques and music on every street corner were a sharp reminder of Brighton´s North Laines. I loved it and admit feeling a pang of homesickness.

Later the same day, we were invited to a friend of a friend´s house for Mate. Mate is to the Argentine what tea is to the British. Everywhere you go, you´ll see locals carrying Thermos flasks sharing small cups with silver straws. Definitely an acquired taste, the bitter Mate leaves are reminiscent of brewed poor quality home-grown.

We´ve also started teaching and being taught. Our landlady´s son Federico - who bears a striking resemblance to Noel Gallagher - comes over on a Monday so we can frighten each other with our respective verb forms.

We were really looking forward to today - our first day at the language facility of Buenos Aires University but we sat in the room like a bunch of rabbits stuck in the glare of headlights. Didn´t understand a bloody thing! Not looking forward to going through it all again tomorrow....

Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!

I know this is pathetic but this morning we needed help. By 2 pm neither of us had showered or eaten and Sare spent a twitchy night, awake, bashing her floral bedlinen.

Why?

Bloody cockroaches! One in the kitchen and just for good measure, one in the bathroom too. I didn´t get aversion therapy before I left so consequently, what should have been a relaxing public holiday in the park, turned into a military pest control exercise. Honestly, the state we were in was far better than your favourite comedy sketch.

Luckily, one of the key skills we seem to have mastered on the trip so far, is the ability to break out in spontaneous fits of belly-hurting laughter - great remedy for any dark moment.

We´re learning too, that while this city might have more than its fair share of dog poo and the odd cockroach, its inhabitants are possibly the most hospitable, generous and kind that I´ve come across. Last night we were taken for a gorgeous meal, complete with champagne and a lovely wine by someone we hadn´t met before.

Thank you Francisco.

A vegetarian´s chagrin

They´ve got this stuff called Dulce de Leche and quite frankly, I can´t get enough of the stuff. Made of goats milk, it´s like the toffee caramel in a banoffee pie and it´s in everything. The Argentine people have more cakes and pastries per capita than I ever thought possible. Why the majority of the population are slim and healthy I can´t fathom. Still, I s´pose you can eat cake till the cows come home if you walk as much as the Buenos Airiens have to to get anywhere.

Had a lovely weekend. A friend´s sister - who lives locally - took us to La Boca. Reputedly it´s the poorest, roughest area of town and guidebooks warn tourists not to stray into areas unknown. It´s a port town where the Italian´s first arrived in the city. Legend has it that their boats were full of half used paint cans and when they got to shore they quickly set about decorating. Today, Caminito in La Boca is a myriad of charming, brightly coloured, immaculate, quaint tin houses. Such a welcome sight as you leave the choking stench of the river behind. Truly wonderful.

We were drawn by the sound of Tango emanating from a rustic bar and and settled for cervesas but no sooner had we done so, I was serenaded by the singer and sat thinking ´Pleeeeease don´t sing at me, have mercy!´ But alas, he had found his prey.

After sunset we - a little reluctantly - moved on. For it was Earth Day and there was a festival to be had. Transgressing culture or creed, the hippy has evolved as a highly adaptable species distinct and universally recognised. We could´ve been in Brighton!

Soon Sarah´s stomach got the better of her and we were promised a traditional treat. Pulperia na Serapia was a tiny little place, simple chairs and tables with walls adorned with historical newspaper clippings and photos of a Buenos Aires past. It was time for an authentic nosh of empanada (a little like cornish pasties but smaller, filled with meat, veg or ham and cheese) quickly followed by humita (palm leaf parcels of spicy maize and cheese or beef and pork meat) The piece de resistance (literally, for veggie Sarah) was locro, a traditional corn, pepper and pork broth which I polished off with gusto while wondering how on earth Sarah would manage to pick all the meat out. I think a meat-free diet here is going to be more than challenging. It´s quite hard even to find a vegetable especially one that doesn´t come wrapped in pastry!

*Big thanks to Claudia and her husband for being such fantastic tour guides!

Don´t cry for me, I´m in Argentina.

Buenos Aires is overwhelmingly huge. A sprawling metropolis but we´re gradually settling now we´ve got our own pad. It came with a doorman and it´s on treelined pavements wide enough to dodge the omnipresent dog shit (failed miserably today though)

We´re getting some Spanish under our belts (not literally, unfortunately for me) at the University. No one seems to speak English here so we´re constantly having to think of inventive ways to be understood. Believe me when I say this is amusing. Or humiliating. No, it´s both.

Looking forward to some restaurants and nightlife this weekend. I´m missing a good mature English cheese already but a bottle of palatable Argentinian wine costs as little as 50p.

On that note, I´m off to open one.