Coming Home (10.10.08)

We are very excited about coming home tonight and feel lucky to be alive.

Since leaving home in May we have visited the ancient pyramids of Giza and the isolated desert oasis of Siwa. We have driven across the plains of southern Africa populated with elephants, hippos, lions and giraffes (two with their necks entwined) - everything but zebras, which apparently is a pretty hard feat to accomplish. We have drunk beer in supposedly haunted pubs in England and walked the underground streets of Edinburgh with its resident ghouls and witches. We got our dose of Guadi and mosaics in Barcelona. We have visited two of the biggest waterfalls on earth and seen glaciers, enormous snow capped mountain peaks, pristine lakes, whales, black and white dolphins, seals and penguins. We trekked to Machu Picchu and across Isla de Sol – the birthplace of the Incas. We have descended into the mines of Potosi and froze on the salt plains of Uyuni whilst admiring pink flamingos that seemed unconcerned by the sub zero temperatures. We’ve seen poverty and immense human suffering, road accidents, choking smog and amazing ‘festivals of litter’.

Several themes have emerged particular regularly in our blog:

1. The festival of litter.
Several countries celebrate trash disproportionately to other festivals. Egyptians litter more regularly than they either pray to Allah or kidnap infidels. During their ‘festivals of litter’ they love to throw around dirty nappies and other household trash. Bolivians also revere nappy-throwing and general littering as a religious rite. Peruvians have their moments with trash but prefer to soil their natural wonders with human waste. Argentineans are trying hard to clean up their streets but their dog lobby is powerful and their dogs not toilet-trained. Indecently, I believe South American dogs are the friendliest dogs we have come across. Karyn believes it’s because they are allowed to ‘roam-free’ unlike Australian dogs that are usually tethered making them suspicious and angry. They have to be nice to you so you feed them.

2. Money.
Whether we’re being ripped off or getting a bargain, it hard to ignore the dirty topic of money. We have enjoyed exchange rates of 98 US cents in July and felt our dollar plummet to under 70 cents in the final month of our holiday – rather distressing really. Scandalous Egyptian street merchants (with 3000 years experience in ripping off tourists), would try to bewilder us by talking Egyptain pounds, English pounds, Euros, US or pesos, fishing for what currency we were least adept with or had most of in our wallet. Finally we arrive in Santiago and are confronted with the most ludicrous currency of this holiday. One Aussie dollar buys 427 Chilean pesos (or one Aussie cent buys 4.27 pesos) and they give out lots of one-peso coins.

3. `The Lying Planet’.
Karyn and I have uncovered another Lonely Planet scandal. We are now sure that the writers of ‘Lonely Planet – South America on a shoe-string’ have never actually been to South America, nor even flown over it. We became suspicious of LP when we routinely found all the pricing estimates were off by at least 3000%. Since then we have found numerous inconsistencies and false information. Admittedly much of the cultural and natural history of South America is not even known by the local tour guides who routinely make up facts to fill in holes in their presentations.

4. Scary Bus Trips.
No matter how many South American (particularly Peruvian/Bolivian) busses I survive, I’m always uneasy when travelling on them. We’ve discussed at length their inherent dangers (maniacal driving) and tendency to plummet off cliffs but also their inadequate hygiene and bathroom stops/facilities (Imodium has become my best friend). What we haven’t mentioned was the number of books we read while travelling on these busses – many. We’ve compiled a list of the 20 individual long-distance bus-trips as a reminder to us of how many hours we spent acquainting ourselves with the South American countryside:

1. Buenos Aires – Puerto Iguazú (Argentina)
2. Foz do Iguaçu – Campo Grande (Brasil)
3. Pantanals – Corumba (Brasil)
4. Santa Cruz – Sucre (Bolivia)
5. Sucre – Potosi (Bolivia)
6. Potosi – Uyuni (Bolivia)
7. Uyuni – La Paz (Bolivia)
8. La Paz – Copacabana (Bolivia)
9. Copacabana – Puno (Bolivia – Peru)
10. Puno – Lima (Peru)
11. Cuzco – Arequipa (Peru)
12. Arequipa – Nazca (Peru)
13. Nazca – Ica (Peru)
14. Ica – Lima (Peru)
15. El Calafate – El Chanten (Argentina)
16. El Chanten – El Calafate (Argentina)
17. El Calafate – Puerto Madryn (Argentina)
18. Puerto Madryn – Bariloche (Argentina)
19. Bariloche – Buenos Aires (Argentina)
20. Buenos Aires – Santiago de Chile (Argentina – Chile)

Plus we also endured one decidedly horrible train trip from Quijarro (Bolivia) near Corumba (Brasil) to Santa Cruz (Bolivia), not to mention all the mini van trips we have been on and taxi rides with insane drivers.

By the time we arrive safe and sound back in Ringwood (presuming we have no head-banging issues with Qantas) we will have flown a total of 24 times:

1. Melbourne, Australia – Sydney, Australia
2. Sydney, Australia – Johannesburg, South Africa
3. Johannesburg, South Africa – Livingstone, Zambia
4. Livingstone, Zambia – Johannesburg, South Africa
5. Johannesburg, South Africa – Vilanculos, Mosambique
6. Vilanculos, Mosambique – Johannesburg, South Africa
7. Johannesburg, South Africa – Cape Town, South Africa
8. Cape Town, South Africa – London, UK
9. London, UK – Barcelona, Spain
10. Barcelona, Spain – Zurich, Switzerland
11. Zurich Switzerland – Cairo, Egypt
12. Cairo, Egypt – London, UK
13. London, UK – Edinburgh, UK
14. Edinburgh, UK – London, UK
15. London, UK – Madrid, Spain
16. Madrid, Spain – Buenos Aires, Argentina
17. Lima, Peru – Cuzco, Peru
18. Cuzco, Peru – Puertu Maldonado, Peru
19. Puertu Maldonado, Peru – Cuzco, Peru
20. Nazca Lines
21. Lima, Peru – Buenos Aires, Argentina
22. Buenos Aires, Argentina – El Calafate, Argentina
23. Santiago, Chile – Auckland, New Zealand
24. Auckland, New Zealand – Melbourne, Australia

it is a big pity we don´t clock up frequent flyer points for all these trips. We could probably go on another holiday.

Biding Time In Santiago (08.10.08 -10.10.08)

Jon on Londres Street.

A few of the buildings on the street we were staying on.

A church in the city centre. I like the colour.

Jon beside the fountain at Cerro Santa Lucía.

Another view of the fountain.

Two and a half days in Santiago de Chile. I guess you could fit a lot of sightseeing into that timeframe; we certainly have in the past. However, we have chosen to do pretty much nothing. We have arrived at our last port of call with little motivation to do anything except dreaming of Argentinean steak and wishing we were already home.

I wouldn’t have minded going to the coast to Valparaíso, an old port town with houses stacked to gaping heights along the sea. The place is a Unesco World Heritage site which appeals to me but when I found out it was a two hour bus ride there and two hours back I bailed on the idea. So, all we have pretty much done is eat, drink coffee, make use of happy hour at the Italian restaurant near where we are staying, and use the internet.

We have been staying in a hotel called Residential Londres – an old dilapidated mansion just itching to be fixed up and turned into a five star rather than a half a star hovel (well, it isn’t quite that bad). The place was recommended by the Lonely Planet as the best budget option in town. Hmmm. It is not exactly cheap, especially because our dollar has taken a nose dive. The place also hasn’t been properly cleaned in at least ten years; the toilets haven’t been scrubbed for at least twenty. However, I was woken up by the sound of the vacuum cleaner outside our door this morning. It was probably the manager’s attempt at trying to make us vacate our room early… it worked. The hotel is on Londres street (hence its name) which is a very quaint cobblestone road lined with ornate stone buildings in the heart of town. A good place to explore from… if you can be bothered.

Yesterday (Thursday) we did take a stroll to Cerro Santa Lucía – a park built around a massive outcrop of rock in the middle of town. The gardens were built by the major of Saniago, a Mr Benjamin Vicuña Mackenna, and were opened in 1874. They were designed to evoke the feel of a fort (or perhaps they included the remains of a fort – not quite sure which) so consequently as you stroll around the gardens and up to the top of the lookout, you can see canons and various turrets and other fort like structures. The whole place is quite quaint and would have been really pretty in it’s hey day when it wasn’t covered in graffiti and smelt occasionally of urine. It is still a nice place to visit though and read your book. Along the way to the top, you pass a small gothic cathedral. I remarked to Jon that I bet a lot of weddings take place there. Perhaps not – it turns out it is the crypt of the major and his family. From the mirador at the top we discovered that Santiago is surrounded by massive snow capped mountains – the Andes. I guess this makes sense since we did cross them to get here. You could only see the top of a couple of the mountains as the rest were covered in a thick blanket of smog.

Tonight at 10.45pm we fly home. I can’t wait. We are both really excited and have been counting down the hours since we arrived in Santiago.

Last Supper and Bus to Santiago de Chile (07.10.08 - 08.10.08)

Last meal in Buenos Aires - These are a few of my favourite things:
A delectable piece of Argentinean Steak, a mouth-watering beer and my scrumptious wife (The only things missing were my ipod and Wii) .

View from the mostly empty sleeper-bus to Santiago - crossing the Andes (again) is still spectacular but not as scary in Argentina.

We enjoyed the view outside our windows whilst the attendant who was supposed to be serving us in first class was flirting with the attractive girl from the seat next to us. He seemed more intent on smoking with her in the driver´s cabin than cleaning up the rubbish stewn across our cabin.

We crossed the Argentinean/ Chilean border halfway through a several km long tunnel, although the border checkpoint was obviously on the far side of the tunnel. The border security was as tough as anything we have encountered – probably even more thorough than that at Heathrow. Our bags were comprehensively sniffed and scanned, Karyn having to explain to a customs comandanté the composition of all her souvenirs. She then watched horrified as they ripped open our new antique painting and then declared: ‘Oh no, we have a problem here’. Thankfully after a close inspection from the resident antique timber painting consultant, our souvenir was declared ‘safe’ and allowed to pass (even without a bribe). The comandanté commented on the ease at which he terrified Karyn and then with the assistance of three helpers (junior customs capitáns) re-taped our painting rather carelessly.

The sniffer-dog completed a meticulous sniff-search of the bus (even smelling the inside of the bins and the toilet). Having come-up empty-pawed and still enthusiastic to find contraband (like what we saw being smuggled over the Bolivian/Chilean border), he bound over all our fragile and precious collectables, spilling hand-bags and shopping bags in his wake. Despite the intrusive security, I did manage to smuggle through my Amazonian monkey comb (a sizable thorny seed pod used by monkeys for grooming), an object the Australian customs officials will very much love to get their hands on.

Back in the City of Dog Shit (05.10.08 - 07.10.08)

Jon took this photo.

... And this one!

We arrived back in Buenos Aires on Sunday morning – conveniently in time for the antiques fair. It wasn’t a coincidence that I had booked accommodation in San Telmo (in an old, semi-run down mansion), only two streets away from the fair and the antique shop full of colonial paintings we loved on our first visit to this city back in July.

After we had checked in, we asked the man on reception to book us a table at La Cabrera – another compelling reason for our return. We couldn’t get in that night so we had to content ourselves with a 20 hour wait. In the mean time the receptionist marked on the map another steak house he recommended nearby. We were not disappointed. The bife chorizo steaks - butterfly cut, were thick and juicy - cooked to perfection. In fact, they were divine. Eating meat here is close to a religious experience. We are going to be sorely disappointed when we return home but can thank God we don’t live in the UK where the meat is pitiful and enough to turn even the most ardent carnivore into a vegetarian.

Our bellies full and our heads light (too much wine), we set off to scour the rows and rows of antique and art stalls for a bargain or at least a gramophone. Alas, we found nothing that was going to make us rich when the Antique Road Show comes back to Melbourne. Nor did we find a gramophone small enough to carry back home. I did find lots and lots of craft and art pieces I liked. Buenos Aires defiantly has a strong art scene and there are many galleries in San Telmo. One could go crazy here, or at least I could and I kind of have. I am not sure we have enough wall space back home for everything I have purchased. We will have to move.

The next day we walked across town, down the main shopping mall, to have a look at more colonial paintings before making our decision as to which one we wanted to purchase. We didn’t see any we liked more than the one we had come back to Buenos Aires for. However, we were not sure if we should buy it as the dollar had dropped even more, and our painting, being in US dollars, was now a lot more expensive then when we first viewed it. It was quite depressing really. We were so sad that we had to make up for the fact that we were probably not going to buy it by really enjoying ourselves at La Cabrera.

On our last day in the city of dog shit (you spend most of your time here looking at the footpath rather then the buildings around you) we went to another recommended restaurant for one more delicious piece of steak. It was there that we decided since we have spent sooo much money on this holiday why not part with some more. Consequently we boarded the bus to Santiago carrying a carefully bubble wrapped package containing an Ex-voto painting, dedicated to ´Nossa Senhora da Conceicao´.

Hitting the Slopes (03.10.08) Barilochè - Cerro Catedral.

Entering the ice cave before it was taken over by hundreds of kids.

On top of the world.

Holding on in case I blow away.

The view from the top of Catedral mountain.

Dazzled by all those tall snow-capped mountains surrounding Barilochè we thought we'd better visit them. 'Cerro Catedral' is the main ski-field in Barilochè and overlooks town and all the surrounding lakes. It is the best mountain to climb because other than being high, the summit can be reached from the comfort of a cable-car and chair-lift making it the easiest climb.

The ski season is all but over here. It was reportedly very poor this year, the main falls only coming several weeks ago - the snow is currently icy up-top and patchy/non existent at the base. The green (Karyn-friendly) runs are all at the bottom and covered with grass. It is a lot cheaper to ski here than back in Oz (less than $100 for a one day lift pass and equipment hire) but we decided to give it a miss because Karyn´s knees are still playing up.

We were told to catch the 'Cerro Catedral' bus from town at 'quarter-past-the-hour' on the high street, or 'quarter-to-the-hour' on the low street. The bus takes you to the base of the ski-slopes from where you catch a chair-lift or cable car. After two hours of missing successive buses we realized the lady at the hostel had confused the high and low streets. Hence at 3pm our bus deposited us at the base of 'Cerro Catedral' just in time for us to shed another pile of pesos and catch one of the last cable-cars up the slope before needing to return for the last car down at four.

At the top of the cable-cart line, a thermometer informed us the temperature was a chilly 5 below zero. There was a small toboggan run, a snow cave, snow man (for the kiddies), and another chair lift to the top of the mountain. At the top of that chair-lift stood a typical alpine style restaurant/bar (closed). From the balcony of the closed restaurant we got amazing views of the lakes and mountain ranges on both sides of Cerro Catedral. The snow at the top was indeed icy though I've skied much worse in Australia. We took all our normal 'tourist pics', sadly aware that this was really the last day of sightseeing before starting to head for home. Tomorrow we would catch a bus back to Buenos Aires before bussing again to Santiago and flying home next Friday.

A Cold and Rainy Day - Not Good For Sightseeing (02.10.08)

The lake before the wind, storm clouds, rain and freezing weather set in just as we boarded the boat.

Jon in the Bambi Forest.

A house I would like to renovate.

Giant pine trees... in case you were wondering.

We thought we would wait until the morning to decide what to do with ourselves for the day. There was a good chance the weather was going to remain pretty miserable so we didn’t want to book any tours without seeing the morning sky first. When we awoke and opened the curtains it seemed pretty promising – blue sky with patches of white fluffy clouds, although quite windy. ¨Not too bad¨, we thought prematurely and went ahead and booked the boat tour to Victoria Island and Arrayanes Forest. We then jumped on bus number 20 and headed to the end of the line – Puerto Pañuelos.

When we got off the bus we were almost blown across the golf course next to us. ¨Oh well, at least it is still sunny we thought¨ - little did we know what was in store for us. We made our way down to the port as I needed the toilet quite badly and we thought there might be somewhere to take shelter and eat the sandwiches we had brought. There was no shelter but at least there was a baño. We had to content ourselves with a romantic picnic lunch on the steps of a run down coffee shop. A rather strong odour of dog shit wafted over to us whenever the wind blew our way but this was not nearly as bad as the stench of the pickled tongue Jon had between two chunks of bread. I couldn’t believe he was going to eat it and had kindly offered to share my chicken schnitzel sandwich. However, he was adamant he was going to eat a cow’s tongue… so he did. I could smell it on him for the rest of the day… it made me sick.

Finally 1.30pm came around and we boarded our vessel which happened to be an old Dutch boat – ¨Astillero ¨, built in 1937. I wondered how it had gotten all the way over to here. As we sat patiently waiting for the boat to set sail, a giant gust of wind blew in a bunch of nasty looking storm clouds. In a matter of minutes, the whole lake was covered in grey clouds and mist. You couldn’t see a thing. At 2.00pm when we finally set off, the rain started pelting down… ¨Just great¨ I moaned.

Our first port of call was the Los Arrayanes National Park which is situated on the Quetrihué Peninsula, about a one hour boat trip from Puerto Pañuelos. This park was set up to protect the only forest in the world of Arrayán trees which are cinnamon in colour with white patches. Legend has it that Walt Disney himself visited the park and was so enthralled by the trees that they later served as inspiration for Bambi. We only had 45 minutes here to wander around the boardwalk which wound its way through the forest of trees. The place is quite magical and I can see how one could imagine gnomes, fairies and elves living here, not to mention Bambi who you wouldn’t be able to see, as he (was Bambi a he?) would camouflage against the trees.

We then sailed through the rain across Lake Nahuel Huapi to Victoria Island. Here we had one and a half hours to kill. There were lots of walking tracks so it wasn’t hard to fill the time if you didn’t mind getting wet. We walked to the other side of the island. On the way we passed a derelict house that would have been wonderful to restore if it hadn’t fallen so far into disrepair. I believe it was built around the turn of last centaury but I am not sure who lived there. I don’t think anyone except park rangers and loggers live on the island now. We passed through woods of amazingly tall and straight pine trees, some of which were being logged which was sad to see. I thought it was a National Park so I am not sure why they are allowed to chop the trees down.

If the weather had been fine the views from the island of the lake and beyond would have been spectacular. As it was, we had to content ourselves with the use of imagination. We were well and truly ready to go by the time the boat blew its whistle calling everyone aboard. We were cold and hungry and looking forward to a hot shower. The 200 metre sprint to the bus warmed us up a bit and served to remind me how unfit I am and that I probably shouldn’t be eating so much chocolate – I didn’t listen to that little voice inside my head.

It was a real pity the weather was so crap as the lake and the mountains are beautiful in the sunshine and we would have had amazing photo opportunities. Some Canadian snow boarders we shared a dorm with in El Chaleton had raved about the boat tour which only made me more disappointed with our experience. As it was, if we hadn’t done the boat trip when we did, I don’t think we would have had any spare time to fit it in on another day. I guess when you are travelling with a strict time frame you don’t have much flexibility, especially when it comes to weather. Oh well we have seen so many amazing things I really can’t complain, plus less photos to edit is not a bad thing. I think we have 10,000 odd to sort through.

My Arms Hurt (01.10.08)

Neither Karyn nor me had ever kayaked before. We were both a little apprehensive about a full day on the lake rowing, Karyn perhaps more so than me. We were picked up at 10am and driven 40 minutes to the far end of Lake Gutierrez. We layered on our kayak gear: water-proof jackets, life-jackets and rubber kayak skirts and slid into our canary-yellow kayak. Our instructor gave us a brief lesson on kayak control: 'push the right peddle to turn right, push the left peddle to turn left', then pushed us into the water. The morning session was surprisingly easy, Karyn and me both amazed by our speed, agility and stoic argument-free endurance. We led a pack of three kayaks. In the other kayaks were an Australian/Irish team and a poorly coordinated Mexican/Peruvian team (dressed more for night-clubbing and cruising Chapel St than kayaking) who were paddling in circles. We were excited to have found a sport we excelled at; one we could do while sitting down.

We reached our lunch time destination first and ate three courses on the edge of the lake amongst huge trees and native bamboo. During lunch our fortunes turned as did the wind – a complete 180 degrees in fact. With the wind came choppy waters, dense cloud and rain. We consumed far too many Argentinian pastries – carne (meat) pastries, onion and cheese pastries, spinach and cheese pastries, and four cheeses pastries. Brimming with cheese and still confident from the morning's perceived victory, we squeezed into our kayak ready again to defeat our Mexican/Peruvian friends.

The afternoon session started poorly with me loosing the rudder peddle. This meant we drifted in circles for 10 minutes as I tried to recover it. Somehow the Mexican/Peruvian couple learned to row over lunch (I don´t know how as they still couldn´t coordinate their timing and they looked like they should sink) and they steamed ahead while we drifted in the shallows and were pushed back by the wind. We noted that if Karyn stopped paddling (which she did every 20 strokes) my paddling alone would hold us stationary; if we both stopped paddling we would drift backwards at a rate of knots. So it was for the following two hours, we battled the grim forces of nature attempting to assert ourselves on the lake, pushing forward ever so slowly. Karyn's arms burned with exhaustion and she kept asking why I chose the full rather than half day of rowing. Not having a convincing answer I would instead yell encouraging and inspirational remarks such as 'Row, dam it!' Not soon enough the other side of the lake appeared through the rain inspiring us to exhurt what little strength we had left. To our dismay the Mexican/Peruvian team (though still lacking some coordination) had maintained a good pace against the wind and were first to reach shore, followed by the Australian/Irish team, and Karyn/me following a lazy five minutes later.

We dried/thawed out in the club over a beer. Karyn carried several blisters as reminders of her new found favorite sport. Bewildered by our 'second half defeat' we dissected the race concluding we had obviously gone out too fast – not saved anything for the second half – needed to pace ourselves better. We tried to console ourselves with clichés such as 'it's not about winning, it's about having a good time'. It was shallow comfort, we knew it was a lie.

Tronodor and the Black Glacier (30.09.08)

The river we ate our picnic lunch by.

The river the second path ran along.

Walking to the glacier.

The view of the valley looking away from the glacier.

The black glacier - pretty cool stuff.

Today we set off to see the black glacier - Ventisquero Negro. As we didn’t know how to get there by ourselves we thought we would go on a tour that encompassed three, one hour treks (although strolls is probably a more accurate term).

I was relieved to see our fellow tour companions included some older, slightly overweight Argentineans – probably too much steak.¨Good I thought. They surely can’t be as fast at walking as Germans¨.

Cerro Tronador (the mountain where the glacier is located) is only about 20 kilometres as the crow flies from Bariloche. Naturally, the road travelled is a lot longer and it takes over two hours to get there. I am sure the scenery along the way is lovely as you drive through national park, but I fell asleep.

I woke up at our first stop. I needn’t have worried about not being able to keep up. I could have crawled faster then the pace our guide set. The first waterfall we visited was nice enough but nothing that spectacular. I was more concerned with the clouds that were setting over Tronador in the distance.

Next we stopped for lunch at a restaurant – hotel – camping ground. Jon and I had made our own lunch so we sat at a picnic table and proceeded to eat. However, just as we took our first bite, a guy popped up out of nowhere demanding three pesos for eating there. Our guide hadn’t informed us of this fee so Jon refused to pay. He argued that the guy did not look official enough to be collecting money on behalf of the hotel (he was not wearing a uniform or badge) and that because we had already paid a national park entry fee (it didn’t matter to Jon that this was a private property) he was not going to part with $1.50. Talk about being Dutch! In order to avoid a showdown and possibly having management (Jon had asked to see them) escort us off the premises, I packed up our food and dragged an unwilling Jon to the edge of the property where we ate on the other side of the fence.

After our riverside picnic, we sent on our second walk for the day. This one was far more scenic. The track made its way through a forest of bamboo (bamboo here is solid rather than hollow inside because of the cold) that grew alongside the river. It was quite beautiful and at the end of the path was another waterfall that drenched you with its spray if you got too close. It was a pity we couldn’t spend more time here as it was very tranquil and I would have liked to explore the bamboo more.

Our last walk was through the snow and around the edge of a lake to the black glacier which is just a dirty lump of ice, albeit a pretty one. It is black because the snow picks up a lot of dirt and rocks as it slides down the mountain into the lake. The glacier was a lot smaller then the others we have seen but every one is so different it is hard to get bored of them. Half of Cerro Tronador is shared with Chile so we found ourselves standing very close to the border. I was hoping to witness an avalanche (Jon was hoping to photograph one) but I didn’t get my wish. I wouldn’t have minded seeing someone other than myself fall into the lake (the snow was rather slippery along the edge) but that didn’t happen either. Despite this, it was a great day.

Once back in Bariloche, I rewarded myself for all that hard strolling by sampling more chocolate!