3rd World Country, 1st World Experience

I can just picture the look of dissapointment on the face of a Miss World contestant when she is told she is the second runner up, which is a fluffy phrase they use so they don't have to let her know that she is actually 3rd place; not first, not second, but dream-breaking 3rd. When it comes to countries, the western world decided to give these same rankings, based on economic development and quality of life, but inadvertantly put into the publics mind that certain countries are just not good enough; the world's second runner up. If I were a judge, I would change the criteria adding culture, character and charisma. It seems the more "economically developed" a country becomes, the more they lose their own culture; the "better" the quality of life becomes, the more they end up just like any other Western world. I was only in Bolivia for 10 days, but it didn't take long for me to realize how spectacular and different a 3rd world country can be. I never felt I was getting the real "South American" experience in Argentina or Chile - they were expensive, people dressed in western style clothes, and you could find a MacDonalds in most cities. Bolivia is culturally different, the local people wear very traditional clothing (top hats, large skirts and multiple layers of colorful wool), the houses are made of mud and straw, and exotic foods and spices are sold on every corner. It may be considered a 3rd world to western cultures, but it is first world in my book.


It is hard to imagine a city that covers an entire valley, with houses perched from the highest peaks to sky scrapers lining the bottom, all of this at a staggering 3,630 meters above sea level - but this is La Paz. It has the feel of a chaotic Asian city with pushy street sellers (selling everything from trinkets to help you find a husband to baby Llama fetuses), a constant stream of beeping vehicles and people everywhere. The rich people live in the valley's center (because they pay more for their oxygen) whilst the poorer people live at the highest altitudes. For the first two days in La Paz I swore I had a brain tumor, as I would wake up in the middle of the night with excruciating headaches, but this is unfortunately just a side affect of altitude sickness. While in La Paz I visited the town center (and stumbled onto a speech being given by the President), took a tourist bus, went to the valley of the moon (not to be confused with the one in Chile - this one is basically large sand spires that you walk through), and haggled with the street sellers for some Alpaca clothing.

After meeting the members of my gap tour (three Ozzie girls, two Scottish guys and one Dutch guy), we flew to Sucre, "the white city" and historical capital of Bolivia, which hundred of years ago was so wealthy from the nearby silver mines, it economically outranked London and France.
After a quick city tour we headed to the markets where we bought up large quantities of toothbrushes, diapers and other miscellaneous items, and spent the afternoon at a local orphanage. The following day I subjected myself to a full 4 hours of mountain biking, which offered beautiful views, but really just left me itchy from the constant vibration, and tired from the 1km uphill bike.

From Sucre we headed to Potosi, with a staggering altitude of 4,070m, where locals still work in silver mines dating back to the Spanish colonial era. Unfortunately it is quite a sad lifestyle, as I saw in the amazing documentary "The Devil's Miner", and witnessed first-hand on a mine tour, where you will see children as young as 11 working in the dark and dust filled caves.
The Bolivian people are very religious and although they believe in Jesus Christ outside of the mines, while underground they worship the devil, making offerings and sacrifices to devil statues found in every mine. The best part of the mine tour was that I got to hold dynamite and amonia nitrate which we gave as a gift to the miners in addition to cigarettes, alcohol and coca leaves (the starting product of cocaine, which the miners chew ALL day long for extra energy.)


Our next stop was to Uyuni, a small, dusty town, which is the jump-off point for the famous Bolivian Salt Flats. The following day we headed out in our convoy of 4x4 vehicles stopping first at another train cemetary and eventually ending up at breathtaking salt flats. White salt and perfectly reflected sky on the flat water (since much of the flats were flooded) stretched out as far as the eye could see. Traditionally people use this scenery to take depth manipulated (and ridiculous) pictures, which of course I did too!
That night we slept in a guest house made entirely of salt; the walls, the floors, the tables and even the beds. We spent the next two days touring the 5,000m scenery including spectacular lagoons, snow-capped volcanoes, desert flats and even some geysers. After a long exhausting trip we hopped on a night bus back to La Paz. Although the trip was only supposed to take 9 hours, in traditional Bolivian style, the trip took about 20 hours, as we had to sleep overnight next to a river that we weren't able to cross in the dark.

I have been in Peru for the last 2 days with a new gap group, (and a 1 day rendevous with Mick!!) and it has been amazing so far. I will post about my Peruvian adventures in a week or so!!

Adios Chile

Chile stretches 4300KM long, over half the continent of South America, longer than the length from Canada to Mexico, but in most places is only 175KM on average in width. It ranges from glacier fields to the driest desert on the earth, with volcanoes, lakes, valleys, geysers and islands in between. We started off our time in Chile hiking mountains in the freezing area of Patagonia, and finished in the Atacama Desert. It was an amazingly diverse country with very religious people (70% of the country is Catholic) which means lots of churches, confusing road signs, amazing food, and some hysterical images I cannot forget - like the 3 story children's slide at the playground, a telephone pole in a quarry where instead of readjusting the direction of the wires they just dug around the pole, huge christmas trees made out of plastic bottles, a skyscraper that looks exactly like an old Zach Morris cell phone, and llamas walking on the beach. Since I pretty much saw everything there is to see in Chile, I don't think I will be returning in my life, but it certainly was a memorable adventure - it will be missed.

Santiago Chile, is a city I could live in, and a great place to spend 4 days. The architecture is beautiful, the streets are clean, there are several amazingly cute suburbs and the people are friendly. Our hostel, Casa Roja, had a pool, hot tub, and my favorite, a ping pong table where I was able to showcase my talents (and whip Mick's butt each and every time.) We spent the first day cleaning out the van and giving it back (yipee) and hanging around the hostel. The next day we did a "free" walking tour (which after tipping turned into a not-so-free tour) and that night we ate Mote Con Huesillos - a liquid meal the Argentinians love, consisting of peach juice, a half of peach and whole grains of wheat (which was surpringsly tasty.) We took a tour of one of Pablo Neruda's eccentric homes and took a ride to the top of the mountain overlooking santiago for sunset.

The following day we took a bus out to Valparaiso, described as the cultural center of Chile, I would have called it the sketchy center of Chile, or at least most of it.
Since it used to be the main port down the Pacific coast (before they built the panama canal) the "old section" is amazing, and not surprisingly a UNESCO protected site. It is littered with Ascensors (outdoor elevators people used to use to climb up the huge hill which overlooks the bay, and is now ussually used by tourists), clock towers, markets and in the center of town a lot of people looking like they wanted to steal my purse.

We signed up for a 6 day tour to Chile's Atacama Desert, which started the following day, in a white minivan with 6 other international passengers. I was of course, the only American, to which someone said after they heard I have been travelling for a whole year, "how unAmerican of you!." Our first destination was the beachtown of La Serena, Chile's second oldest city, where we ate Empanadas and Mick took a quick dip. That night we headed to the local observatories, where stargazing is at its best, and where you will find the RLT and SLT ("creative" acronyms for Really Large Telescope and Super Large Telescope.) We got to take some amazing pictures of the moon through one of the telescopes and learn about a website where you can stargaze without ever leaving your computer screen - www.stellarium.org.

The next day we travelled hours through the bleak sandy landscape, stopping to see a 4 story ceramic hand planted in the desert by a famous artist (whose name I can't remember), an old cemetary located next to an abandoned nitrate mine (where you can still see flesh on the 70 year old remains because of the lack of humidity), and a "train cemetary" where people left perfectly good trains because the Germans discovered an artifical way to make nitrate. After two nights in the beautiful beach town of Bahia Inglesia, we headed to San Pedro de Atacama, A "brown town" (all the buildings seem to be square and brown) in the heart of the desert. We toured the "valley de luna" (an area which is said to look like the moon), a lagoon where flamingos hang out, and swam in a salt lake which causes you to have such boyances that its like having a life preserver attached all over your body when you jump in.

Mick and I are currently in La Paz, Bolivia. Tomorrow I head off on a 30 day Gap tour through Bolivia and Peru, while he is heading north directly. We hope to meet up again in Lima for a couple of days before I head back home, but in the mean time, I will miss my favorite travel companion!!

A Mobile Home for the Holidays

Having spent the last 27 Christmases of my life, toasty warm in a family member's home, surrounded by colorful decorations, festive music, and a winter wonderland outside, the view of a trailer park from the window of my van was definitely a change. Luckily I had skype so my electronic floating head could still speak to my nephew Pierce while he opened his gifts, back in his warm living room in Washington CT. I had a love/hate relationship with our Wicked two-seater camper van. The van allowed Mick and I to tour southern Chile and Argentina, and cruise with true freedom through Chile's lake district, the island of Chiloe, and to the coast, before heading to Santiago. We could stop when we wanted to take a picture, leave cities whenever we wanted, and never had any roommates. On the down side, everything we owned was under where we slept so you had to rubix-cube everything to find what you were looking for (which resulted in one blood blister and a lot of cursing), we spent a lot of money on gasoline and food to stock up the van, and let's be honest here, I drove Mick crazy with my horrible front seat driving. But it was an experience of a lifetime, doing things I have never done before, like driving in South America (3 times down one way roads), picking up hitchhikers (6 total!), pulling up to the house of a native Chilean family and living with them for two days, and getting honked at all the time (because apparently the spanish writing on the back of our car said "honk if you like my driving", which until I figured it out, gave me severe road rage.) In the end, I think the freedom was worth the price, but I will be sure to be stationary for Christmas next year!

After 4 days in Ushuaia, the "fin del mundo" (end of the world), which included a boat trip into the Beagle Channel (where while there weren't any canines, there were lots of other wildlife), a day hike to the national park and a day spent touring the Maritime museum (because Mick loves boats as much as my father), we headed to Punta Arenas, Chile to pick up the van.
From there we did a solid two days of driving, taking three hour shifts, arriving in Barlioche, Argentina on Christmas Eve. The central region of Argentina and Chile (not coincidentally known as The Lakes Distrcit on the Chilean side) is picturesque, with beautiful blue lakes, surrounded by snow capped mountains (but most are actually volcanoes!) Each town emminates the feeling of a Swiss ski village, with quaint shops and log cabin bungalows and hotels. In Bariloche we had our Christmas dinner at a fondue restaurant, watched a movie on my laptop, and went to bed.


From Bariloche we headed a couple of hours west to Villa la Angostera, which had a similar feel to Bariloche but was all encompassed in a one street town. Here we did a 24KM hike into the Parque Nacional Los Arrayanes to see the forest of arrayane trees, which basically look like trees in camoflague, and we sat on the shores of the beautiful Lago Nahuel Huapi. Entre Lagos was just over the border into Chile, and at this point huge volcanoes were so common, they nearly faded into the background.
We spent two days here, camping by a lake and one day at the thermal pools. Much to my dismay, we spent an afternoon fishing, and even though I didn't want to go in the first place, I was the only one who brought home a Salmon to eat for dinner (much to Mick's dismay.)

After a full day drive through the mountains, and some large cities (for Chile) like Puerto Varas and Puerto Mott, we pulled onto our ferry heading to the Island of Chiloe. The humble Chilote people were never an ally of the mainlanders, so their culture is unique. The island is well known for its numerous inglesias (churches) made completely of wood (some of which are over 200 years old), fishing villages and curanto (a dish of poultry and shell fish vapor-smoked in giant leaves and moss.)
We decided to immerse ourselves in the culture by staying the night with a local family through Chiloe's agrotourism program. At 9:30 in the morning we pulled up to one of the homes on our list, and were greeted by Jardi, who we later referred to as Papa. He brought us into his home, sat us down, and woke up Mama. They chatted in Spanish to us at light speed, and we did the best we could to make conversation. Mick, who knows zero spanish, became the family joke because he would always smile and say "no entiendo", which means "I don't understand." Jardi took Mick into town to buy a sheep, while I stayed with Mama and their daughter Carol to cook lunch for 5 other tourists coming later that day. We couldn't have felt more at home after two full days with our new Chilean family, where we helped them cook a curanto, move the cows to different paddocks, and even spent New years Eve with their family being kissed by more people than at my own family events!! The highlight of the stay was when Mama Maria told Mick that when he had been saying what he thought meant "I want a little" he had actually been saying "I want a little penis." Probably one of the funniest (and finally clear) moments between 4 people who has so previously struggled to understand eachother!!

After 4 nights in Chiloe, we headed northwest to Baldivia, a college town, right on a lake where we took a boat ride to an old spanish fortress and watched the sea lions prowl at the fish market. From there we went directly to Pucon, an amazingly fun town located directly next to the 2,847 meter Volcan Villarrica.
When I looked up at this snow covered volcano, spitting hot hair into the sky, looming in the background of every photo, I never would have imagined I would be climbing it the next day, but I was. Although we received severe wind warnings that morning, I encouraged the other people in our group to climb anyway (because we needed 7 people to make the trek), and after some arm-twisting they conceded. The first hour was a tough hike up dirt and loose gravel (because the chair lift was closed due to the wind), and the remaining 4 hours required an ice pick to hike up the nearly vertical snow covered face, until we finally reached the summit. Being at the top of a volcano is kind of like being on the moon, minus the lack of gravity; the sulfur smelling air burns your lungs, smoke fills the air, and the rocks and molten lava are strange colors and shapes.
The views out were amazing of the neighboring lake and yet another volcano. The best part of the entire hike was the way down, where we got to slide down ice luge paths with plastic seats we had carried with us the entire way. 5 hours up, 1 hour down, and the new best way to travel. Also in Pucon I did a white water rafting trip, while Mick spent the morning fly fishing.


Our last stop before heading to Santiago (where we are now), was the coastal town of Pichilemu. Known worldwide for its left break it is a popular beach town and serious surf spot. Mick spent one day surfing while I played the role of the surfer's "beach babe", and the next day we just walked around the town. So far we are loving Chile. From here we head north to Atacama Desert and then onto Bolivia!!

Patagonia; Not Just the Name of my Fleece

If you had asked me a year ago what "Patagonia" was, I would have said a pretty typical American answer, "a high-end outdoor clothing company?" Well today I know better. After having spent the last 3 weeks in Southern Argentina and Chile, in the actual Patagonia (and I imagine what the clothing company named their brand after) I have a whole different perspective on the word. Even though it is summer here, the temperatures are cold, the winds are brutal, and the snow is prevalent. The sun sets each day between 10:30 and 11:00pm, and rises around 4:00am. Sometimes we felt we were in the most plush ski town of Switzerland, and sometimes we would comment that we must be in Bahgdad with the barren, desert-like landscapes (minus the heat.) Despite all these things, Patagonia has been by far the best place I have seen so far in South America; with tons of wildlife like whales, sea lions, penguins, condors, guanacos (they look like llamas, and spit like them too), amazingly beautiful snow capped mountains, glaciers and ice fields, aqua colored lakes in every valley, and the most amazing hikes I have ever been on. If you can brave the weather, Patagonia is definitely a place to visit!


Three days in the coastal town of Puerto Madryn was too many. A city surrounded by sandy and barren landscapes, is the gateway to the Valdes Penninsula, where for 400 Pesos ($100USD) we went on a day trip, whale watching and to see penguin and sea lion colonies. On the second day we tried to take a 17km bike ride, but once we left the city and entered "Baghdad", we had more sandstorms than my eyes could handle. Mick wanted to press on for the adventure factor (as always), but I insisted we turn around, and still ended up pulling sand out of my hair for the next week.


We then took a bus to Gaiman, a Welsh colonized town thats claim to fame is serving Welsh teas and biscuits, and since we arrived during the Siesta hours (1pm-4pm) the only thing left to do was sleep in the park, until a places opened up, and then food was definitely eaten! We then headed to Rio Gallegos, where no pictures at all were taken, because there was nothing eventful to see. Apparently Butch Cassidy robbed a bank here back in the day, probbaly because no one would have noticed him.

After a night in Rio Gallegos, our next stop was El Calafate. This touristy town, by all apearrances, should have several ski resorts nearby, but it doesn't. The main street is lined with souvenier shops, restaurants, and disneyesque log cabin buildings. At the edge of town is the beautiful Laguna Nimez, a wetlands sanctuary surrounded by snow-capped mountains, and attached to an inlet lake with a beach. This was worth the 20 pesos. The following day we took a day trip to the Glaciar Perito Moreno, located 80km away in the Parque Nacional Los Glaciares. What a strange experience to come over a hill and see the biggest chunk of ice you'll ever see, resting on a lake. Floating in the water nearby are massive blue ice cubes that break off while you watch, and take only a few days to melt away; so each day the glacier is different. We took an up close boat ride, and then walked around the viewing platforms, waiting anxiously to catch a break (literally, waiting to watch ice break off the Glacier) which only happend a few times during the day.


We spent three days in El Chalten, a remote town 2 hours north of El Calafate, described as the trekking capital of Patagonia. Fortunately we had the BEST weather, and set out for a 6 hour hike the first afternoon we arrived. After several hiking games ("movies starring Bruce Willis", the Name game, the shopping list memory game, etc.) and lots of beautiful scenery, we came to the base of a mountain, with a massive glacier resting on a lake. The wind was so strong that I could barely stand, and birds were getting thrown around in the wind, but it was breathtaking (literally, it was hard to breathe.)


The next day we did an 8 hour hike to the Fitz Roy range, where after a long 3 hours, the trail went completely uphill for the last hour. It was exhausting, but as we climbed into the center of these two mountains, below was the most beautiful glacier pools - hands down one of the most amazing things I have ever seen. The third day was spent resting, and since it was snowy and cold, we didn't mind!





THE W TREK
After talking to some girl at a hostel weeks ago about it, Mick decided he wanted to do the W trek in the Torres del Paine national park in Chile.
When I agreed I didn't know exactly what I had gotten myself into, but after a scarily blunt introduction lecture from a local guy in Puerto Natales (the jump-off point for all hikers) I realized I was in for 5 days of pain (pun intended.) He said to expect 160kmh winds, torrential snow and rain, and hours of tiresome hikes. We packed up our backpacks with 5 days worth of food, cooking gear, sleeping bags, a tent, and limited clothing all packed up tight in trash bags, and even got lame hiking poles (which turned out to be amazingly helpful) and set out for the mountains. Luckily we had amazing weather, and met some really great people along the way. This was by far the most amazing experience of my life.



Here is a run-down of our 5 days:
Number of miles hiked: 62
Number of times I fell down: 8
Number of times I got blown over by the wind: 2
Number of granola bars consumed: 38
Number of showers taken: 0
Number of times we used a whole salami stick as a substitue for butter in our dinner: 1

After arriving back at the main lodge on the 5th day, we ate our moneys worth at a buffet breakfast, and vegged out for the rest of the day.

Now we are currently in the southern most city in the world, Ushuaia Argentina for 4 days!!

Get back in the Saddle

Some people will tell you that when you fall off a horse, you need to get back on. Most use it as a metaphoric rally for encouragment, a way to say "no matter what, never give up". Well I am pretty sure most of the people who say this have never ACTUALLY fallen off a horse, because if they have, they would know that it's not that easy to get back on, especially if the horse is bleeding, missing a horseshoe and kind of pissed off. A Thanksgiving day horseback riding adventure through a small town just outside Cordoba, was an amazing experience. We began by drinking the traditional Argentinian drink, Mate, which according to history was created by the Gaucho (an Argentinian Cowboy) who, having very little money, picked the leaves and shared this new drink, and long conversations, with the travellers he'd meet on the "road". Then after some cheeky conversations with our guide, Marcello, he said "I know which horse I am going to give you", with a laugh (although I'd like to think the crash was just coincidence.) All my years of owning our childhood horse, April Fools my Pepsi Pony, and taking riding lessons came flooding back to me; it was a breeze (and besides these horses are trained to just follow one another anyway, lets be honest here.) We went through the barren hills, waving to homes as we passed, through the rocky terrain and even forged through the river twice. On a fairly routine climb up a rock path, my horse went to follow Marcello's, but instead put its foot directly into a rock crevice, got stuck, went to put its other leg up, and began to lose its balance. At this point as the horse begins to roll to the left, I did what Mick (who was behind me) called "a ninja roll" off the front - abonding ship before my little pony took a pretty nasty spill down the rocks. After watching in what I could only describe later as a big tree, falling hard, and of course realizing that I was unscratched, I cried out "oh no, the poor horse. In the end, she has a lot of bleeding on her legs, and over her eye, but I got back on the horse (because I knew they wouldn't have created that saying for nothing), and finished my amazing journey. When we got back, instead of turkey we had a gluttonous Argentinian BBQ, where I ate so much steak and bread from the grill, that I felt at one with my fellow stuffed American people.



After Port Iguazu, and a 20 hour bus ride, where I had more bad luck of a shockingly soaked bag, which stunk for almost a week after arrival, we got into Cordoba. Our first day we thought it was a ghost town, but turns out it was just a national holiday.On our second day we took a 1/2 hour bus ride to Alta Gracia, the hometown of the well-known freedom fighter Che Gueverra. By the time we got off the bus, it was around lunchtime, and we couldn't believe the ghost town we found, again! Through my broken spanish I figured out that Siestas (afternoon rests) are not a myth; this entire town shuts down from 1-4.Apparently it is quite common all over South America, so now there is actually an excuse for my overhwhelming find food NOW sense of urgency, so we get something to eat before everyone retreats to their homes. Another thing that is funny about South America is that it is filled with what I call "classics" - really old cars, some I remember from back in the 80's and some that I have never seen, but it does make for a great game of punchbuggy. While in Alta Gracia we also visited a beautiful old Jesuit building that had been turned into a museum about Alta Gracia, which was possibly the most boring museum ever, even more so since we couldn't understand any of what they were saying.


On our third day in Cordoba we checked out a couple of museums, and took a walking tour to see all the other sites. The city population is made up of mostly college students which makes for a great vibe - lots of hopping bars, restaurants and shops on every corner. In between the modern architecutre are the most beautiful spanish churches, some made of stucco and some of stone, but enough to finally make me feel like I am really in "South America." That night we followed the young guy who works at our hostel, Phillippe, to his college to watch a final presentation him and his classmates were performing on traditional Argentinian practices. They fed us free empanadas (delicious dough filled with different kinds of meat) and danced the Folklore. They loved our attempts at speaking spanish and laughed at our dancing skills, when we tried to partake.
After a day on the horses, the next day we decided to go on a trek to the Parque Nacional Quebrada Del Condorito, where we hoped to catch a glimpse of some Condors (as you might has deduced from the name.) We picked up a new dutch friend, Jasper, and boarded a local bus. Before we got on we asked the bus driver if this would take us to the park, and he said yes. As we climbed steadily into the Argentinan hills, going further and further into the middle of nowhere, the bus abruptly pulled over, the driver waved at us, told us to get off, and we couldn't help but think that this must be the wrong place. We literally were at the end of a dirt rode going into the middle of nowhere, thinking that all the locals were having a good laugh as they peeled away. In the end we hiked for 2 1/2 hours into the national park and got to see amazing landscape and lots of Condors, and a bus actually picked us up on its way back into the city.

After another 20 hours bus trip we are currently in Port Madryn, Argentina, in the area known as Patagonia. It's barren, cold, expensive and filled with lots of wildlife!! Will keep you updated on our trip south to the "End of the World."

If only we could dance like no one's watching

One of my favorite things about visiting my parents in The Villages, a colossal city of "active-adults" awkwardly transplanted in the middle of central hicksville Florida, is going to one of the town squares around 5:00pm when the festivities begin, and do so this early because everything closes at 10pm, apropos to the age group. Everynight, rain or shine, a band blares music from the gazebo, sometimes oldies, sometimes classic rock, but it always draws a crowd, and this is when the old folks come out to dance. Whether it is a bunch of women square dancing, the local dance club doing the electric slide, or an adorably old couple decked out in beautiful attire dancing the tango, it is a sight. It always leaves me wondering, what has happened to dancing? Hundreds of years ago, a dance hall is where you would meet your husband, and up until a few decades ago people's nightlife centered around the foxtrot, the waltz or the hand jive. Today if people say they are going dancing, it means getting as drunk as possible and sweating on eachother in a dimly lit room. After our first salsa lesson in Montevideo, Uruguay Mick and I left wondering; when we get home, where can we do this dance without people making fun of us? Wouldn't it be great to have organized dancing again? I think so.

After Buenos Aires Mick and I headed to (as my friend Timmy used to like to say in his travel blog) a "UNESCO protected site" called Colonia del Sacramento in Uruguay. The Portuguese founded Colonia in 1680 to smuggle goods across the Rio de la Plata into Buenos Aires, and it still has all its historic charm.The old town is a small peninsula surrounded by the ocean, with cobblestone streets, an old lighthouse, and charming tile-and-stucco homes.

Unfortunately we spent our first afternoon there searching for an ATM that worked, and after a few hours of panic and conversations about what are we going to eat without any money (and a lecture to Mick from the newly nicknamed "The General" (yours truly) about how it is important to have a back-up plan), I exchanged a $100 bill and we went out to eat.

The next day we rented bicycles and rode along the coast to get out of the main tourist area. All along the sidewalk were locals sipping their national drink, Mate, a ceramic mug filled with what looks like oregano (but tastes like a green tea on steroids), a metal straw coming out the side (with a filter on the bottom) and a large thermos filled with hot water, which they pour in every couple of minutes. It isn't exactly a practical drink to carry around, but every single group had their Mate (hundreds), some even with special Mate carrying cases.

On our bike trip we saw an old bull ring shut down by the government decades ago, stopped in at an horse racing ring where I tried to feed an angry horse an apple (which provided Mick with much entertainment, as it began to kick and I subsequently ran away as fast as I could), and sat near the beach while reading his and her books. Later that night we took an evening stroll through the beautifully lit old town.

Montevideo, the capital of Uruguay, was next on our sites. After a 2 hour bus ride we arrived at the bus station and I used by Spanish skills to ask "cual numero autobus necessito viejar de el cuidad?". Ok so to any real Spanish speaking people, that probably makes no sense, but basically I was asking which bus do we take to get into the city. After the intial question people seemed to think I knew Spanish, and would answer a million words per minute. As we walked away Mick would say "well, what did they say?", to which I would answer, "I have no idea." We continued this same process with 5 or 6 people, and eventually seeking to have an "adventure" Mick wanted to try and walk. So 1 hour and 40 minutes later with our heavy backpacks on and the feeling of murdering someone, we arrived at our Hostel.

The next day we walked all around Montevideo which we thought was pretty dirty, with garbage everywhere and the constant smell of urine (or so Mick thought). We checked out the Plaza Independence, the Mercado del Puerto (housing a bunch of cute restaurants), an old jail that had been turned into a shopping center, and ate lunch at a craperia (like crapes, not crap). The city's redeeming quality was how laid back it was. It seemed none of the shops opened up until later in the day, and everyone worked to live, instead of the other way around. People moved slow. Cars let you walk across the street with a nice wave. It was completely chill.

That night we took our salsa lesson. During the warm-up we were like two escaped monkeys, jumping around in the back of the room. Everytime the group would turn around and see us I would be embarrassed and want to leave, but then one of the teachers spent the entire lesson teaching us the basics. And it turned out to be a ton of fun!!



After another night in Buenos Aries, and an 18 hour bus ride, we arrived in Port Iguazu Argentina, the gateway to Igazu falls. Since the bedbugs had returned and wrecked havoc on my body, out first job was to exterminate, by dunking all my clothes in boiling water. Then we spent an entire day checking out the falls, and it was completely breathtaking!!! We hiked down to the bottom, across the top, and did a 6K walk to the "Devils Mouth", where the water debris can be seen hundreds of meters away, and the noise sounds like an oncoming freight train. We even payed an extra $50 to see the falls in a full-moon walk. There are no pictures to prove it (since it was pretty dark) but the whole experience was magical.



Last night we took a 20 hour bus ride to Cordoba where we will stay for about 5 days!

Buenos Aires? I think Malo Aires!

For those of you not so Spanish inclined (Mick), Bueno in Spanish means "good", and Malo means "bad", and even though I googled Aires, I don't think it menas anything in English. So after having spent 3 days in the Argentinan capital, Buenos Aires, I have decided to rename it, with a more negative connotation. For my faithful readers, you know that I have NEVER written anything bad about travelling, cities, or my experience on the road (so far anyway), and would tell just about everyone I know to sell their posessions and head off into the world. So to what do I owe this new found negativism?; maybe i can blame it on 3 months in a cozy apartment (without living out of a backpack, owning lots of clothes, and eating Mick-cooked meals nearly everynight), or maybe it is just the Buenos Aires Experience I have had so far, but either way I am hoping my desire to "go home" leaves as quickly as my departure out of this city.

Getting out of Melbourne was sad, more so for me than for Mick, as I had about $600 worth of clothing and shoes that I had accumulated over the 3 months, that I was devestated to donate to some ungrateful people, and the "Sophie's Choice" process of consolidating the rest to fit into my backpack was shockingly pathetic. But after all was said and done we hopped on the plane, first with an 8 hour flight to Kuala Lampur, a 5 hour layover, a 12 hour flight to Capetown, a 2 hour layover, and a 10 hour flight to Buenos Aries.

Plane productivity included: 5 sleeping tablets, several hours of coma induced sleep interrupted only by the passing of a food cart (no matter what hour in the morning or night) two episodes of Glee, all of Braveheart, an episode of the office, all of the 3rd Twighlight move (which I have no idea what it was called, but I am definitely on Team Edward), some heated Tetris battles against Mick, 200 pages of "The Girl who kicked a Hornet's Nest", and LOTS of amazingly good airplane food (Malaysian Air food seriously kicks butt).

Upon arrival I cracked out my spanish skills to ask when the next bus will leave and how much a ticket is. I didn't really understand their response (which seems to be the trend), but I looked pretty impressive in front of Mick. We then began our nearly 1 hour walk (with my 25lb bag, and 10lb purse) to find a place to stay. Eventually we settled for the Goya hotel, which although it boasted a particularly impressive breakfast spread in the morning, was nothing special for nearly $60 a night. Since we arrived at 12:30pm Buenos Aires time, and 2:30am Australia time, we forced ourselves to stay awake, by walking around the city looking for a cheaper hostel to stay in the following night. After a quick meal, we were passed out by 8:30 BA time.


The next morning we hopped on a big yellow, open top, double-decker, tourist trap, I mean bus, to begin our 2 1/2 hour loop around the city. Buenos Aires doesn't have the chaos of the asian cities, nor the motorbikes or constant beeping, but it does still have a lot of traffic (including a 14 lane highway running through the center of the city), and lots of people selling you things. As we walk down Florida avenue people are selling tickets to Tango shows, city tours, money exchange (because we all want to exchange our money with some sketchy guy on the corner), leather jackets and dinner deals. They speak spanish to you, which reminds me that I don't stand out like sore thumb, as I did in Asia. The downtown street is lined with shops selling clothes, gifts and books, and of course lots of Macdonalds, Burgerkings, Subways and other Western shops.

Buenos Aires is split up into 12 districts and thanksfully the tourist bus showed us some of the more cultural sites and buildings, and some of their beautiful architecture (which ussually has some sort of graffiti on it.)

We hopped off the bus in the area called "La Boca" which sits on an inlet of water (which is really more polluted brown sludge), and although it was very touristy, the colorfully painted building facades and paper machete characters from Argentinan history coming out of building windows and standing in doorways was nothing but fun. We then got off at the "Reserva Ecological" which is a large ecological preserve, where people bike, run and one group (clearly of westerners) bird watch.



The real reason we got off here wasn't to enjoy nature; the promenade was lined with churizo stands that looked amazing, and I was hungry. We then went then drove through the ritzy area and hopped off near the Japenese and botanical gardens, taking a quick stroll through.


That night we got back to our hostel, grabbed some yogurts from the grocery store, since the pork-churizo from lunch was still lining my stomach, and spent our first night apart in 3 months sleeping in seperate dorm rooms.

After spending the morning planning our upcoming days, and finding another place to stay for the night, we walked to the train station, and headed to Tigre, a place where apparently the more affluent Argentians spend their weekends. Although the area was nice, we didn't find anything special. The inlets of water, a common rowing area, was again brown sludge and the screams of the local amusement park could be heard. We had a walk around the small town, a bite to eat, and a lie on the grass and called it a day.

Ok, so you are probably wondering why I don't like Buenos Aries. Here goes:

1.) Well first off it is expensive, some things are more expensive than Australia! A night in a 6 bed dorm is $15, a 200g box of cereal is about $6, a meal is $15-$20, a bus ticket is $100+ dollars and the list goes on. I had assumed things would be cheap, and they aren't!!!

2.) On our second night we stayed at a hostel in seperate dorm rooms. When I first climbed into my bed, I pulled up the covers and noticed a little black bug in the sheets. I flicked it down onto the bed below me (which some spanish girl had stolen from me, even though my stuff was on it already). I fell asleep but had an itchy sleep for the next couple of hours. At about 2am, I woke up and with my flashflight found them. Black bugs on my pillow and in my sheets, little baby black bugs crawling all over everything. I started smashing the babies, leaving blood splatter all over the sheets. At this point I couldn't switch rooms, so I dealt with it, by turning my flashlight on every time I felt something and either killing it, or looking like a crazy person when there was nothing there. I have stayed at some sketchy places, all over the world, but never had an experience like this. Needless to say I got very little sleep, and an immediate hatred for Malo Aires.

3.) Everything is booked! In Asia, I could navigate on the no plan plan, and roll up to place without a reservation. Here all the hostels are booked, and if you don't book 5-6 days in advance, you are going to spend your days looking for a place to say, which we did. On the first day we went to a hostel to check it out, and as we left Mick goes "this is what you call a DIVE". Little did we know that two days and 200 bed bugs later, we would be crawling back to The Dive begging for a room, which turned out to be fine.

4.) There aren't a lot of travellers. Everyone in Asia on the very clear backpacker route, was from Europe, spoke English and wanted to make friends with you. Here, most of the people in hostels are from South America and just staying in the hostel because it's cheap. Which doesn't make for a great atmosphere.

5.) There are random holes in the road (one of which I fell into) dog poop everywhere, graffitt on everything (including many historical buildings) and the city is dirty. Now as we walk down the street we yell "hole" or "poop" depening on what it is we need to avoid.



6.) The food isn't great. Granted we have been eating at the middle of the road priced restaurants, but one night I ordered a waldorf salad, and they brought out a chopped up apple, 2 walnuts and some celery, with creme on the side? We ordered a pizza last night and there was so much cheese on it, I am surprised we didn't go into immediate cardiac arrest. Maybe there are some good Argentian restaurnts around, but we can't find them? The one place that looked good, was about $40 a plate.


Well enough negativity. Yesterday we arrived in Uruguay, or "U R GAY" as Mick likes to call it. I will write more about it in a couple of days, but lets just say, I no longer want to pack up my things and head back to the USA! Uruguay is great!