For the Love of Paris

We arrived in Paris at 9am on a sunny Sunday morning, and navigated our way across the city via the metro to our hostel in Montmartre. After a quick shower and some breakfast at the hostel we made our way into the city to the Notre Dame.

As it was a Sunday we were able to see a mass in procession, and it was a phenomenal experience. I think the most fascinating part of the church is in fact it's location, as it stands out almost on an island where the river forks and continues alonside it.

In the afternoon we had an exciting reunion with Angus who had just begun his Contiki tour around Europe. Together we reminisced on the joys of travelling as we climbed the hundreds of steps up the Eiffel Tower.

The view from the top is astounding, however as it is crowded with tourists I would put it second best to that of the view over the city from the top of the Arc du Triumphe.

That evening after leaving Angus with his tour we sat in the courtyard of the hostel where we met Freddy, who we ended up spending the remainder of the week with, and his friend Izzy. We were also introduced to Cameron whose typical Australian 'bogan' characteristics proved to be a constant source of entertainment for the evening.

Together with a few German girls, Pierre (a Parisian) and a few American girls, we all headed to the Sacre Coeur to see the lights of the city. We spent many hours drinking red wine on the steps of the Church before heading to some bars to finish the evening. Unlike it's neighbours (Italy and Spain), the nightlife in France finishes comparatively early, with the last bars open only until around 2am. It is strange coming also from South America (countries which have adapted Spanish tendencies) where 2am would be the hour we would leave to go out for the evening.

The following day the same group  of us went for a long walk to the Arc du Triumphe, with a lunch stop at one of the city's many parks. We spent a few hours playing cards and experimenting with each others camera before continuing on to the Arc. The €6 we payed to climb to the top was perhaps the best spent, as it is from the top that one is treated to a fantastic panoramic view of the city as well as the ideal viewpoint of the hectic traffic scenario below. It also is the perfect spot to observe the Champs Elysee, the most prestigious avenue in the city. Nina and I then split from the others to spend the afternoon walking down the Champs Elysee and then to the Marais district.

That evening our group had increased and our group of now fifteen people from different corners of the world decided to head into the city to view the lights of the Eiffel tower which flash every night on the hour, beginning at 10pm. Freddy, Izzy, Nina and I hired bikes and rode in to meet the others. It was thrilling to ride through the streets of Paris at night and observe the many people we passed on the way down. We found a free spot on the grass and cracked open a bottle of red wine to celebrate.

After a few hours in the park we rode home and watched as the city shutdown for the evening.

Having been in Paris only a few weeks earlier, it was not a surprise that mum and dad had a number of hints as to the best things to do and see (besides those obvious) in Paris. They had also generously offer to shout us a meal at a restaurant in which they had dined so we could experience some typical Parisian cuisine. We took the metro into the city and walked across the Pont des Artes where we eventually found the surprise that had been left for us by my family. We found the lock that wished us luck for the onward journey that was bolted to the bridge alongside thousands of others. We then made our way to Canal St Martin to the Hotel du Nord for lunch.

The feel of the restaurant was very French and pleasantly relaxed, and we sat down at a table in the little courtyard.

For lunch we had a very gourmet menu- goats cheese ravioli with rocket and Parmesan for entree, a steak with a delicious source and some amazing mashed potato for main course and a lemon tart for dessert, all washed down with a glass of French red wine. A few hours later we left the Hotel, both unable to wipe the smiles from our faces at the satisfaction of the experience. To top off the perfect day in Paris we looked through the shops alongside the canal and both found a few things to purchase. Before heading back to the hostel to meet Fred we sat on the edge of the canal and admired the incredible style of the Parisians.

For our third evening in Paris we met up with Fred and his host couch-surfer alongside the river Seine. We sat for a few hours just below the Notre Dame and listened to a band play a number of classic tunes. We were then taken by Mikhael to enjoy a crepe and then we headed to a gay club. It was an interesting night to say the least, with the male to female ratio about 50:1. We had a fun evening dancing together and watching Mikhael who was a hilarious dancer. On the way home we were entertained by his many catwalk impersonations, and he went on to tell me that in his opinion Paris is the only city in the world where one can catwalk down the streets without feeling out of place...and I tend to agree.

Early the following morning we took the metro to the Musee d'Orsay, and booked the English guided tour (after a recommendation from mum). For the next hour and a half we were led around the museum and were shown works by Monet, Manet and Van Gogh among many others. The architectural design of the museum is incredible as it was once a train station, and the colossal gold clock that sits on the wall is an original from many years ago. The tour was well worth it, and we were told many things about the artists' early life which can often be overlooked.

As a big contrast to the art exhibited in the Musee d'Orsay, in the afternoon we went to the Pompidou, a strikingly mondern edifice that was rightfully described as 'the worlds first inside out building' by LP. It has a number of tunnels running up the side of the building which give it a very futuristic aesthetic. We viewed a number of exhibitions inside the gallery, however none were overly spectacular and being an admirer of unusual architecture I thought the building itself was the most interesting part. 

That evening we had a quiet evening in the hostel with Freddy and a few others, and farewelled him as he headed back to Mikhael's house.

Thursday was Freddy's last day in Paris before heading South to do grape picking for a few weeks, so we decided to spend the day together. We met at the Louvre and after seeing the size of the line, we decided to wait until the afternoon when the crowd dies down to go inside.

Whilst waiting for Fred to arrive however we recognised two New Zealanders who we had spoken to on our flight to Santiago four months ago. For half an hour we caught up with their stories and likewise shared ours.

After farewelling Nat and Danny we went to the park to eat lunch and watch the people who walked past.  Freddy, who is studying music at university and is in a number of bands himself, played us some beautiful music as we sat under the shade of the tree. In the afternoon we went to the Louvre and saw the Mona Lisa behind her many layers of glass.

 I was surprised at the shear size of the Museum, having not realised in the beginning that it stretched throughout the buildings surrounding the palace. We took the metro back to the hostel after a few hours in the Louvre and got ready to go our again. We had an invitation to a jazz bar in the city where Freddy's new host was playing in a band that evening. We watched the band play for a few hours and talked among ourselves as it was our last night together. Unfortunately due to the metro curfew we had to say goodbye to Fred earlier than we'd have liked to, however we had plans to meet up again when I head to London.

In contrast to the weather we had had all week, Friday was freezing. We went back to see the Sacre Coeur by day, and then took the metro to the Sorbonne area to look around the University. From there we wandered around the streets in Marais and the Latin district and discovered an area filled with niche little designer shops. Unfortunately for my funds I was only able to admire, however surprisingly this proved to be enough.

Our final evening was an early one as we had a train booked to Zurich for early the following morning. We had dinner in the courtyard and had some laughs with Cameron and Mark, a gay tourguide from Alice Springs who had a great love of recalling horror stories from his many years as a tour guide.

Nina and I were both sad to leave Paris, and I can see myself wanting to live there in the future. It has a reputation for being a fantastic city rife with culture, art, fashion and good food and can sometimes be mistaken for a cliche' travel destination, however it has developed this name for good reason. It is certainly one of the most impressive cities I have visited, and I feel lucky to have experienced it.

The Med - The 'It' Destination for Europeans over Summer.

The cities and villages, the people, the accent, the food. Spending another three weeks in Italy has made me realise how much I have a real soft spot for this country and all it has to offer.

After an exciting business class flight due to an unexpected upgrade, we arrived in Rome at 2am on Saturday morning. As soon as we stepped off the plane we were hit by the hot European heat, a big contrast to the winter temperatures we had been experiencing for the past three months.

Summer in Roma was an incredible experience, and it had a very different feel to the last few times I had been in Italy when it was the middle of winter. Apart from the obvious increase in the number of tourists, the city also seems to be more alive. The setting of the sun doesn't occur until around 10pm, and and as a result the crowds remain in the city until late in the evening.

We had a busy three days exploring Roma including the obvious attractions like Il Colosseo, La Fontana di Trevi, La Basilica di San Pietro and others. We also spent many hours of the day wondering around getting lost in the little cobblestone streets that wind their way endlessly through the city.

On the third night in the city we arranged to catch up with Mel and Pat, which was exciting as it was the first familiar face we had seen. Together we spent hours sharing stories in the park before heading to [Travastere] in search of the infamous "chocolate shots" bar.

The rest of the evening we spent enojying a margherita pizza, a delicious hazelnut flavoured chocolate shop and a long walk back to our hostel on the other side of the city.

From Roma we travelled the short few hours North to the little village of Orvieto. Having visited Orvieto on my first trip to Italy, I remembered it as being a very beautiful village situated on the top of a mountain with an incredible view of the surrounding countryside. It was exactly as I had remembered, but even more beautiful at the height of summer as there was an incredible view of the acres of green fields below.

We spent our time in Orvieto staying with an Italian family who were a friend of Nina's in their gorgeous little home. It was a relaxing few days as we took the opportunity to relax and experience the true Italian way of life, and for me to enjoy speaking Italian.

From Orvieto we went to Firenze where we checked into a camping ground for three nights. We had arranged to meet up again with Mel and Pat for their final night in the city, and together we watched the sunset from our idyllic position on the top of the hill and then finished the evening in a restaurant where we all indulged in a big bowl of Italian pasta.

Like Roma, the following few days we wondered around Firenze, visited the famous leather markets and spent many hours people watching. While I enjoyed revisiting Firenze, it was a very hot few days and we were both relieved knowing in a few days we would have the opportunity to dive into the Mediterranean after a long three and a half months without the ocean.

Our trip along the West coast of Italy and the South of France aboard Paso Doble was spectacular to say the least. We visited a number of gorgeous little villages where we were able to observe the unique European summer culture without the masses of tourists.

The Mediterranean is unlike anywhere else I have ever seen during the summer period. The atmosphere both on the sea and on land is one of excitement as the holiday-makers enjoy the sunlight which lasts until late in the evening. The ocean is crowded with million dollar yachts and enormous speed boats, all of which accommodate wealthy families and their friends. Every evening the boats dock in some of the most prestigious marinas in the world (like Porto Venere and Monaco), giving their owners a chance to show off their prized possessions and for the people on land to likewise admire them.

 Over the two weeks we covered a fair distance, from Porto Ferraio to Porto Venere, (along the Cinque Terre), Sestri Levante, Genova, San Remo, Monaco ending our trip in Antibes. Each place had it's own attractions, but it was Porto Venere that I immediately fell in love with.

A small village that stretches along the edge of a cliff, this town has many attractive features. The cobblestone streets that wind their way up the hill are filled with fascinatingly tall houses that are each treated to the view of the bay below. On the highest point of the cliff face is a gorgeous little church decorated with black and white marble. It is not surprising that the church is in such a dominant position as this is the case in most Italian cities.  Also, it had an amazing jumping spot off the side of the cliff where one could swim alongside the soaring cliffs which form this part of the coastline. It is no wonder that Porto Venere was the long term retreat of the late Lord Byron, and it is certainly understandable how he was able to draw inspiration from the place.

The weeks on the boat also provided for Nina and I some time to relax and enjoy the summer sun after having a cold few winter months. As Maria was also on the boat with us, we were treated to some gourmet meals which came as a big treat! I commend her on her efforts as she was able to prepare some very deluxe meals in the small kitchen on board. We were also grateful for the delicious fresh produce we would often find in local markets as we went for our morning walks to explore each of the little towns before the rest of the people had begun their day.

One of the other amazing places we visited on the Italian coast was Portofino. I recognized the name as the place where my parents had spent their honeymoon all of those years ago. After anchoring in the bay we took the dinghy ashore to have a closer look at the little town. The main piazza was filled with restaurants selling Italian delicacies and the surrounding laneways were filled with designer boutiques to satisfy the demands of Portofino's wealthy visitors. After a slow passeggiata around the town it was obvious why mum and dad would have chosen such a place to spend their holiday. 

On the way back to the boat we admired the extensive gardens that spread the width of the cliffs, each filled with olive trees as well as some unusual species of plants.

Our stopover in Genova after a week on the boat gave us a chance to stock up on supplies as well as pick up our two new passengers for the following week. Daniella and Tanja, two Swiss women, boarded the boat armed with some much needed nespresso refils, and we began sailing toward San Remo.

To celebrate the departure of Maria, Alexandre, Nina and I we went out to dinner on arriving in Antibes. We found a nice outdoor eating area where we enjoyed our first French meal as well as some entertainment by a local group of young musicians.

The next morning Nina and I boarded the train to Nice, as Maria and Alexandre headed to Barcelona and Hans was left with Christian to continue sailing. It was a sad time as I watched the Triado family split and go their separate ways, their next full reunion not until July of next year.

Unfortunately our stay in Nice was cut short due to a number of issues, and we has only one day to see the city.

It was another scorching summer day and so we headed to the seaside, one of the iconic beaches on the famous Cote d'Azur. The European beach scene is much different to the one in Australia... Rocks replace sand, waves are nowhere to be seen and the number of people is multiplied by hundreds (in a much smaller space). 

We barely noticed as the hours passed and we realised we had been on the beach for many hours. Being much closer to one's fellow beach-goers also means that they can offer a great source of entertainment, especially the French and Italian crowds. Totally devoted to their image and tan, many barely touch the water and spend most of their time posing for photos on the shore.

This put an end to another stage of our journey, and we were excited to begin our backpacking across Europe. 

The Final Month in South America.

Firstly, I apologise for the delay in posting this blog...but I have been too busy triapsing across the Argentinian countryside tasting wine and exploring the different cities this country has to offer. However this episode begins back in Peru.
 

Our time in Peru was unintentionally short lived due to the dangerous protests that were causing problems at the Peru/Bolivia border, however it was a truly fantastic week and well worth the extra flight costs.
We left La Paz in the early morning of the 3rd of July and arrived in Cusco that same day. We had the afternoon to explore as much of the city as we could, and we enjoyed the few hours that we had in the massive market located in the centre of the city. We had also coincided our arrival into Cusco with the celebrations of the 100th anniversary of the "discovery" of Machu Picchu (despite the fact it had been inhabited by over a hundred years by the Incas prior to this).

In the evening we attended the briefing to our Inca Trail that departed the following day. We were slightly worried as our guide Reuben casually informed us that we may have to skip the famous Dead Woman´s Pass (the 4215m elevation that is ultimately the greatest achievement of the trek) and go via the valley due to snow fall. Not only were we worried we would miss the opportunity to climb the slope but we also realised that snow meant only one thing - freezing conditions!

The following morning we arrived at the corner of the street ready to board the bus...which was nowhere to be seen. We could only laugh as we soon discovered (after initially being frightened we´d been left behind) that we had forgotten to change the times on our phones and as a result we spent an extra hour standing in the freezing cold at 4:30 in the morning.
The first day trek was comparatively easy, however we were introduced to the Inca stairs which make up much of the remainder of the walk, and provide the extra challenge for the hikers.
For the next three days we were treated to perfect weather as we made our way along the Inca Trail.
The climb up Dead Woman´s Pass was a fantastic and exhilirating one and a half hour ascent at a quick pace, and to see the view of the surrounding mountains from a 4215 elevation was spectacular. An American guy and I raced ahead of the group to experience the view from the top before it was disrupted by the remainder of the hikers and porters.
 

The final day we were woken earlier than the previous days in order to get through the checkpoint and get to Heaven´s Gate (the viewpoint from which one can see the whole of Machu Picchu) before sunrise. On the final night before groups make their way to Machu Picchu it is compulsory for all hikers to camp at the one site, and as a result it becomes a race to get to Heaven´s Gate to get the best view of the sunrise over the ancient city before the crowd. Our group was the second last to pass through the checkpoint, however I was determined to reach the top before the 499 other hikers so along with my new Scottish friend David, I ran to the top and managed to arrive before all but three hikers. Again the view was unlike anything else, and the city was much grander than I had expected.

When the rest of the group arrived we descended into Machu Picchu and spent the next two hours touring the city and exploring each of the important monuments which are incredibly still intact.
There was then the option to climb the mountain that stood next to Machu Picchu city, Huayna Picchu, and was slightly higher, so I set off with the two Scottish boys from our group. After a quick 30 minute walk that was almost vertical we arrived at the top and had a great birds-eye view over the city.
We had a slightly different experience of Machu Picchu than the regular visit as it was the celebration of the 100th anniversary. Consequently, the 1500 visitors that come daily from Cusco were prohibited from entering and instead I walked past the Peruvian President, along with a number of other officials. There was also a stage set up and dancers performed a number of traditional routines. The whole experience seemed a bit surreal and it was a bit of a juxtaposition seeing all of the modern day sound equipment positioned on a centuries-old city.
When we left the mountain after lunchtime we went down to Aguas Calientes where we were served a buffet lunch. This was no surprise considering we had been truly spoiled during the entire hike with each meal consisting of three gourmet courses cooked by our young old chef.

We arrived late into Cusco that evening and spent the last few hours packing our bag for our early departure the following morning.
It was freezing as we woke up at 4:30 the following morning only to discover after having showered and packed our bags that we had again forgotten to change the times on our phones and we now had to spend the hour of 5am wondering around the deserted hostel.
After a long day of flight delays due to the continuing volcanic action in Chile we arrived in Buenos Aires.
The excitement began from the moment we checked in at Art Hostel as we had a little reunion with Maryam and Saleem.
The rest of the weekend we spent exploring Buenos Aires and making the most of Saleem´s last few days in the city before he headed back home to America.
On Saturday night our plans to enjoy the famous Buenos Aires nightlife were ruined by the election which was to run the following day (and as a result everything was forced to close early the night before).
Instead we enjoyed the live Argentinian band who came to play in our hostel and spent the early hours of the morning enjoying the company of other hostel guests on the roof terrace. We also tuned in to the Copa America game, the soccer competition that involves a team from each country in South America.
Saleem left for the airport the following morning and we began to plan our trip around Argentina. Nina and I had three weeks and Maryam two, so we arranged to be back in Buenos Aires for her departure on the 24th.
The past two weeks we have been travelling around the Central and Northern parts of Argentina: Buenos Aires - Rosario - Cordoba - Mendoza - Salta - Puerto Iguazu - Buenos Aires.

Our schedule was fairly tight, with every second night for the first week spent on a bus getting from one place to the next.
Strangely enough however it didn´t seem rushed, and the few days we spent in each city was enough to give us a taste of its character and allow us to explore the best sites.
Rosario was the first city we visited, and perhaps remains my favourite. We checked into a lovely little family-run hostel, La Lechuza, before heading out to explore the last hours of the day. We walked down to the river and walked along the pier and watched the hundreds of young people who had discovered the pier as a nice place to spend the evening skateboarding and drinking mate´.
That evening we met two Australian boys who had been in Rosario for two weeks, having initially only intended to stay for two nights. They told us the best parts of the city to visit the following day and we spent the evening in their company along with twelve French exchange students who were currently studying in the city.
We woke early the next morning and were heading towards the city´s monument before I spotted a nice little clothing boutique. An hour or so later we exited the shop, each with an extra bag in hand and a slightly smug expression on our faces.
We climbed the city´s monument and were treated to a magnificent view of the entire city and the river that wound around the outskirts.
We headed back to the hostel that evening after spending the rest of the day visiting the sites of the city and admiring its architecture. Juan, the owner of the hostel entertained us until 10pm that night when we headed back to the bus terminal to make our way to Cordoba.

Our hostel in Cordoba was the worst we had stayed in yet- the floors were covered in cigarette ash, the surfaces were dirty and the staff were useless- they were completely disinterested in maintaining any form of hygiene and organisation.
The two days we had in Cordoba we spent admiring the various art galleries (although unfortunately few were open) and went for a long walk in the central park. We managed to find the best gelato in the city where Nina and I indulged in chocolate tart with brownie and dulce de leche (a sweet spread that is everywhere in South America and has a similar flavour and consistency to condensed milk). Maryam went for the banana split dessert to satisfy her everlasting sweet tooth- three flavours of icecream with banana and dulce de leche smothered on the top.

We also found another few shops where we all purchased a little something. When I got back to the hostel I noticed for the first time that the woman had charged me $98 Argentinian pesos instead of $398...and that perhaps it was karma for the fact that when I first arrived in Argentina the ATM dispensed a $10 instead of a $100. Either way I was happy with my absolute bargain!

The next stop was Mendoza, the famous region in Argentina known for its history of wine production. We were overwhelmed with relief as we arrived at the Empedrado Hostel to find a very clean, friendly atmosphere with many other bonuses such as a gourmet breakfast (eggs and pancakes!) and free wine tasting that evening.

At 2pm we left our hostel and began a tour of two of the vineyards closeby. We were shown the winemaking process and were given a taste of each of the wines at the close of the tour. Unfortunately as it was winter the landscape looked fairly barren and there were no grapes on the trees, however it was nice to see a taste of the Argentinian countryside.
We also visited an olive oil factory where we were shown the very simple process in place to produce the different varieties of their extra-virgin olive oil. When we stepped into the factory we were met with the glorious olive fragrance and we struggled to leave after inhaling it for ten minutes.
We were given a taste of the different varieties and then made our way back to Mendoza as this last stop signified the close of the tour.
That evening we continued drinking wine as we participated as pupils of the wine tasting session. The woman directed us as to how wine should be properly tasted and then allowed us to decide for ourselves whether we liked the flavours of the local wine...which we certainly did.
We had a free day in Mendoza to wonder the city again, and as many of the museums were again closed we spent much of the time soaking up the sun in the central park where there was a festival to celebrate the wine in Mendoza. Each individual -man, woman and even child were given a small bag with an apple and a popper of wine.
As we made our way back to the bus terminal we were grateful that we had decided to make the detour to Mendoza as we were satisfied with our visit to the city.
As we completed each step of our journey the duration of the bus trips began to increase, as did the ticket prices which are surprisingly expensive! Overall we spent nearly $550 on buses (over half of our budget for the entire three weeks in Argentina) however it was well worth it to see these impressive cities.

We were all looking forward to Salta as we had discussed it would be the destination where we would be able to have a bit of a splurge and do some outdoor activities...and that we did.
Our first day in Salta was beautifully sunny and was perfect for the whitewater rafting we had booked for the day. We spent a few hours going down the rapids and had a great time admiring the surrounding landscape.

Before being served lunch Nina, Maryam and I walked to the middle of the bridge and took turns bungee jumping, plunging towards the freezing river below.

After the swinging and hanging in the air I was dropped into a boat and brought to shore where I watched the others nervously drop.
We had a delicious lunch, returned to Salta and topped off our already perfect day with another (guilty) clothing purchase and a traditional Argentinian beer - Quilmers.
The following day the weather had changed rapidly and there was a harsh wind blowing through the city. We wondered around the Plaza and the surrounding streets however we then had to get back to the hostel to prepare for our 24 hour bus ride to Puerto Iguazu...which we were all beginning to dread.

Our day in Iguazu Falls was unfortunately dominated by the poor weather- the first rainy day we had experienced in the trip so far. We saw the falls from a number of different viewpoints and managed to get a few photos in the spray, and in the afternoon we went on the walks through the rainforest.

We arrived back in Buenos Aires exhausted, but very satisfied. After a night out in Crobar, one of the biggest clubs in the city, we must now farewell Maryam who flies back to La Paz tomorrow. It has been a fantastic few months with her and she has become one of my best friends, which is amazing considering the short time we have known each other. The feelings of sadness are shadowed by my excitement to see her when I have a month in the UK in November.

Nina and I now have a few more days in Buenos Aires to walk around the different districts before we head to Rome. It has been an incredible few months on this continent, and I plan to come back in the new future to explore the rest of the territory that I am yet to visit.

A Festive Farewell to Bolivia

June is the month for festivals in La Paz. Over the past few weeks we have attended a number of traditional Bolivian celebrations in and around the city including El Gran Poder, Aymara New Year and San Juan. Traditional Bolivia is also the theme for the Bolivian Express issue for this month, so each of these interesting and very different celebrations has been documented by one of the interns.

Early on Saturday morning as Nina and I awoke after a big night out we could hear the sounds of the parade that is characteristic of the Gran Poder. The Gran Poder is an annual event that celebrates both Jesus Christ and the Pachamama (Mother Earth), tying together both Catholic and Andean beliefs. It continues throughout the entire day and is a festival that brings together not only the different cultures, but is attended by Pacenos (citizens of La Paz) of all ages.

The parade celebrates the different traditional dances of various Bolivian cultures, and the importance of these dances for the participants is evident in the preparations taken to both practise the dance and make the very elaborate costumes. For some dancers, practise begins months prior to the day in order to perfect the routine. These days there is criticism surrounding the festival as some believe it to have forgotten it’s religious origins and has become more commercialised. Some Paceños are beginning to complain that the costumes are mere representations of the individual’s wealth and prestige.

Despite this criticism, the costumes are in a league of their own and are an incredible display of clever handicraft. Nina and I arrived at the parade later in the morning to catch a glimpse of the dancers up close before the big crowds start arriving later in the afternoon. As I was covering the Gran Poder for the magazine I managed to interview a few of the dancers while they caught their breath, and this was an interesting way to learn about the opinions of the evolvement of the festival of those involved.

Later in the evening we visited the parade for a second time, however we waited in line for over two hours before we were allowed through the gates due to the masses of people eager to enter the festival. It gave us the chance to meet some Bolivians and enjoy the taste of the traditional Bolivian beer, Pacena.

Two days later at around 7pm we made our way to Tihuanacu for Aymara New Year. It is rather ironic that this is celebrated at the ruins in Tihuanacu considering the ruins represent the history of a different people entirely.

Warned of the -20 degree temperatures that are typical of the evening we wrapped up in our many layers and made our way to the town centre. We were all suffering from a cold and were slightly worried about the fact that it was another 7 hours until the celebration began. As midnight finally arrived we had already been in the cold for three hours, had eaten as much as we could bare and were all struggling to keep our eyes from closing. The atmosphere of the night was much like New Year anywhere in the world…everyone was very relaxed drinking and dancing along to the live band.

At 12:30pm we made the executive decision to go home. We were all sniffling and couldn’t see ourselves surviving in the cold until 6am when the Aymara people celebrate the New Year. We still managed to soak up as much of the evening as possible and were glad to rid us of the overpriced entrance fee that was being charged to foreigners!

For the next few days we were back in La Paz finalising our articles and booking different hostels for the rest of our trip. Nina and I were forced also to research the problems at the border between Copacabana and Puno that have caused mayhem for the past few weeks. Many travellers have been stopped from crossing between countries or have otherwise been forced to walk miles as bus lines have refused to transport tourists due to many attacks on buses. We ended up booking a flight to Cusco from La Paz to avoid the dangers that continue to arise in the area and to avoid overstaying our visa in a country where there is a price to pay for neglecting the rules.

Bolivia is known throughout South America for having the World’s Most Dangerous Road, a very narrow, windy, steep 63km strip of rocky road that winds up at the small village of Coroico. Eager to make the most of this road, more commonly known as “Death Road”, we signed up with Gravity tours to mountain bike-ride down the road.

As the road has resulted in many casualties over the years, before beginning the ride each person must sign a declaration saying the company takes no responsibility for any injuries or deaths which occur during the five hour descent.

The journey begins on asphalt, however it is not long before we arrive at the rocky surface that we become so familiar with for the rest of the day. It is thrilling to ride down through the trees with an incredible view across the valley. At some stages of the ride it is slightly unnerving as you can see the 500m-drop to the bottom and stories start arising about the many deaths that have occurred along the way.

Within the first few kilometres of the ride we were told to put our cameras away and get off our bikes to pass through what appeared to be a very strict checkpoint. Each car that was descending the mountain was checked for chemicals that could be used in the production of cocaine, and each car that ascended for the actual substance itself. As we were without bags the guards considered us fairly harmless, and we passed through without being searched.

We were fortunate enough to have the owner of the company, Alistair, on our ride as he was testing our New Zealand guide, Chad, as to whether he was good enough to join the Gravity team. Alistair informed us that there are over thirty companies that take groups down the death road, but that there is only one other he would recommend to take. I understood his reasoning during the ride when I would watch as other group leaders flew down the hill encouraging the riders to keep up, neglecting to give any sort of guidance to the ignorant riders. Alistair told us that it is these companies that are the ones responsible for the deaths on the road, and he said the cause of many is testosterone exceeding ability.

Interestingly enough Alistair (slightly frustratingly) told us that if one of the other companies loses a rider over the edge they will often wait for the Gravity guides to come and rescue the person, knowing that they have the correct safety equipment (which many of the companies lack).

The ride was a truly exhilarating experience, and ironically there wasn’t a moment when I really felt unsafe (which says something-wait until you see the road!). I was glad we each decided not to compromise our safety and to go with the most expensive company.

At the end of the ride we were given a souvenir t-shirt and were taken to the Animal Refuge in Coroico. We were served a buffet lunch, were treated to clean bathrooms and showers and were given the opportunity to visit the various wildlife housed in the refuge.

I was feeling very sick by this stage (from a big week) so I opted not to do the flying fox however Maryam and Nina flew across the valleys and said it was a very fun experience.

We then began the three-hour ascent up the same, very windy road and arrived back in La Paz at 9pm that same evening. Having been invited by Vampi to go to “Ignition”, a very exclusive party in the wealthy district of La Paz, we took off our biking clothes and replaced them with our best attire. San Juan, a typically Spanish festival, falls on the 23^rd of June as is likewise celebrated in South American nations. Ignition was a party designed to coincide with San Juan and provide the youth with an event to enjoy the evening.

Walking through the entrance to the party as five ‘gringos’, we felt very obviously out of place, as there was not another foreigner within a hundred miles of the party. After a few drinks, dancing and laughs with our Bolivian friends, the feeling faded and we enjoyed the night.

Saturday night we hosted a small gathering at our apartment to catch up with our friends. Gato and his girlfriend, Guido, Vampi, Darko and a few of their friends joined us for some rounds of Four Kings and to sit around and enjoy our view over La Paz.
Sundays are very slow in La Paz, as like many other world cities, everything closes and there is little to do. We spent the day organising further our trip and finalising our flight details.

Monday morning we left for a two-day journey to Lake Titicaca. We boarded a micro for 17bs and arrived in Copacabana three hours later. Copacabana is a small lakeside town that thrives on tourism and is known for serving trout, the fish that was brought to the lake many centuries ago to provide the citizens with some protein for their diet.

We checked into Hostal 6 de Agosto and spent the afternoon wandering through the few streets in the town. We visited the Cathedral and admired its internal gold decoration, however having spent so much time in Italy there are few churches that live up to those exquisitely-decorated Cathedrals in Roma.

We had an early dinner at Coffee-Shop Copacabana, where we were served an extremely generous portion of spaghetti Bolognese as we watched the sun set over the lake. Having booked our tour of Isla Del Sol for early the following morning, we had a very early night.

The following day we travelled by boat from the Northern end of the Island to the South, stopping in three small villages along the way. There was little to do at the villages aside from sit by the lake and soak up the sun, so this is exactly what we did. Being a water person, I was glad to finally be by the water after being in a landlocked country for two months.

When we arrived back in Copacabana that same afternoon we had a few hours to kill before our bus left for La Paz…so what better to do than sit down in a café and eat! However it is important that I mention this experience, as it was at this particular restaurant that we were each treated to a gastronomic delight. Nina had fried eggplant with vegetables, Seni ate a plate of fajitas and I indulged in the best falafels I have eaten (aside from at the Orgasmic café in good ol’ Lismore). The journey home was much the same as the way there, and after a big day of travelling and eating we spent much of it asleep in the backseat of the micro.

 For the last few days we have been soaking up the scenes in La Paz that we have become so fond of over the past few months. Vampi, Seni, Nina and I have been enjoying the last of each others company before we head to Cusco and Seni returns to Denver to start Uni. It is going to be a sad farewell not only to the city that we have made our home but also the many people that we have made friends with here. We also met the two new interns for this month, and it is strange to think that the apartment will be so empty with only two. Tonight we intend on having a nice gathering at the apartment as a sort of farewell with the whole crew - Nina, Seni, Vampi, Robbie, Nieva, Darko, Ivan, Sharoll, Gato and Juan. Tomorrow we are entering the next stage of our journey, and it is a very exciting prospect for the both of us!

Sucre & Potosi

Eager to make the most of our last week with Cami in Bolivia, we decided a three-day trip through Sucre and Potosi, two of Bolivia’s most impressive cities, would be the perfect way to do so.

After another long, cold, overnight bus ride we arrived in Sucre early on Tuesday morning. A very aesthetically interesting city, Sucre is filled with Colonial-style, white buildings that remind me of a typical European scene. Sucre is politically a very important Bolivian city, as it remains the country’s first and true capital. La Paz is now considered the capital having won the war against Sucre for the status as capital, and as a result, the government moved to La Paz.

We have now become accustomed to arriving in cities in the very early hours of the morning when absolutely nothing is open; so we spent the first few hours of the day sitting in the city’s main Plaza (just as we were forced to do in Cochabamba weeks earlier). However it is a great way to take in the atmosphere of the city and to appreciate the architectural beauty of the surrounding buildings. 

By the time it ticked over to 9am we were grateful to see the doors of one of the nearby cafés opening so that we could regain some energy with a big breakfast, and to give us the chance to plan our day in Sucre.

Having only just left the café an hour later we were interrupted by a mass of young children marching in protest of the degradation of the environment. Each separate class of children was dressed each in a unique theme to reflect their personal argument about the topic. The protest was characterised by children dressed as animals, clouds, trees, the ocean and some infants were cleverly dressed in costumes made entirely of recycled juice wrappers. After snapping a few photos of these gorgeous children we made our way to the Casa de la Libertad – the National History Museum.

For only a small fee of 15b (approx $2), we were taken on an interesting journey through the museum and subsequently the history of Bolivia, knowledgably narrated by a Bolivian guide. The history of this fantastic country has to interest anybody…the fact that the Bolivians have been robbed of so much over the centuries- their silver, their coastline and their territory, and the way that they continue to fight for even the smallest victories in the present day. The tour lasted over an hour and was well worth the money, and as Bolivia lacks the funds to maintain its museums and galleries, the museum wouldn’t have been overly insightful without the addition of the guide. 

I’m not going to dwell on this point, but it is in some ways upsetting visiting the museums and galleries in this country that have clearly seen better days. In the Museum of Contemporary Art in La Paz one cannot help but notice the way paintings are crammed next to one another, with some beginning to lose their paint. When in any first world country money would be poured into restoring these works, in Bolivia the funds are insufficient and as a result there is the possibility that they may eventually be lost forever.

On a lighter note, it was in Sucre that we absolutely had to try the saltenas (the delicious, meat-filled pastries that I have no doubt mentioned in previous blogs). Cami’s Rough Guide to Bolivia claimed Sucre was the home of the best saltena, however my more reliable Lonely Planet recommended Potosi as the saltena King.  After some serious comparisons at the lunch table, we all decided that it was in fact La Paz that served the best saltenas, and we were glad to get back to our favourite restaurant in Sopocachi – Pacena La Saltena.

Positioned in the centre of the main park in Sucre is Gustave Eiffel’s very own miniature creation of his famous Eiffel Tower in Paris. Eager for a walk after what seemed like hours of constant eating we ventured into the park and spent some time climbing the rather unexciting tower and taking some photos of the city. Being a big fan of people watching, I did enjoy relaxing in the park watching the people as they went about their daily routines.

We had then planned to visit the Textiles Museum, apparently a very impressive display of Indigenous textiles from some native groups in Bolivia, however it was unfortunately closed for reconstruction. By this stage it was the early afternoon and we had already booked a bus to Potosi for 6pm that evening. With no further recommendations as to ‘must-sees’ in Sucre from either guidebook, we spent the next few hours wondering the streets and admiring the truly unique colonial architecture that covered the entire city.

Despite having been given many warnings, nothing could have prepared us for the freezing temperatures that are [typical] of Potosi. We left the bus and swiftly made our way to our hostel, La Casona. After checking in to our twelve-bed dorm, we searched for a nearby restaurant to defrost and enjoy a quick dinner. We were delighted to find an authentic Italian restaurant a mere block from the hostel that served generous portions of pasta, and more importantly, was fitted with a big fireplace. We returned to the hostel fairly late that night and went straight to bed, eager to get a decent sleep before we entered the mines the following morning.

After believing we would have to traipse around for hours to find a reliable tour company, we were relieved to discover that our hostel arranged its own mine tours with an English-speaking guide.
For the next ten minutes we were all preoccupied arranging our outfits – the jacket, helmet, headlight, wide pants and stray rope. Unable to contain our laughter at the sight of five hopeless foreigners dressed as miners, we took some group photos and introduced ourselves to the others in the group. Tim, another British traveller, was a part of our tour and has become a friend of ours in the weeks since the mines, spending some time at our apartment and sharing many of his stories about his nine months in South America.

Before reaching the mines our minibus stopped at the “Miners Market” where we listened to an introduction about the mines and purchased some coca leaves, alcohol, gloves and juice for the miners. Each day the hundreds of miners enter the Mountain without a single scrap of food, and they survive purely off these gifts that are offered by tourists and are shared among the miners. We were also each lucky enough to try a swig of the 96% pure alcohol. As I took a sip it burned the skin around my lips and felt dry as it slipped down my throat.

Even before stepping into one of the many tunnel entrances that are scattered across the side of the mountain, the dangers to both the miners and subsequently the visitors are clearly evident. The safety regulations that would be legally enforced upon mine operators in many first world countries simply don’t exist in Bolivia.

There was only a thin, cotton facemask that separated each of us from the deadly asbestos and arsenic that is known to be present in the mines. Eager to embark on the journey, it is this thought that I stored away at the back of my mind to reflect on once out of the mines. We each took our last deep breaths of fresh air and followed two of the miners through a small tunnel into the mountain. We were told to be able to recognise two important commands when inside the mines; “Guarda”- be careful and “Tido” – RUN.

The inside of the tunnel is exactly as one would imagine, muddy floors, rocky walls and suspicious substances dripping from every surface. The Bolivian miners work with the most basic of tools – they chip away at the rock with the smallest of hammers, many of their trolleys are broken and must be pushed by the miners themselves (as opposed to wealthier mines when much of this work is electronic).

After climbing around a number of claustrophobic tunnels we were asked to climb a very unsteady ladder to which we would arrive at one of areas where the miners were performing the explosions. Eager to see this in action, I climbed the ladder and was greeted by two men drilling thirty cylindrical holes in the face of the rock. Probably the most frightening episode of the whole tour was in this small space… screaming in Spanish one of the miners came running at Nina, Cami, Seneca and I and cut a pipe which released a substance that sprayed all over us. While we were later told it was harmless gas, it was the whole scene which just made us nervous. As we made our way back down to a ‘safe spot’ to witness the explosion, we were all told to turn off our headlights and wait. Thirty small explosions in two-second intervals followed, and as we stood there in the pitch black I couldn’t help but compare the feeling to an electronic party. The adrenaline levels were certainly high at this point.

It is a very awakening, and at some times emotional experience entering the mines and seeing first-hand the harsh conditions that these men face each day. It is not only the visible dangers such as runaway trolleys and falling rocks that they must survive, but also the presence of asbestos and arsenic (left from the dynamite residue) that hide precariously in the air. 

For the next two hours we continued through the tunnels climbing further and further into the mountain, along the way meeting a number of friendly miners who gratefully accepted our gifts- which are mere necessities for these men. 

Our guide, Juan, an ex-miner himself, informed us that the lifespan of a Bolivian miner is much shorter than that of the average man. He explained many suffer from different forms of lung cancer as a result of the chemicals in the air and the masses of cigarettes smoked to prevent the lasting famine day after day.

As we climbed higher, the air became thinner, the temperatures hotter. At one stage our guide was warning us that the thick layer of grey residue on the rock is arsenic left over from the dynamite, and it was at this stage that I conveniently cut my hand on the rock. He assured me on numerous occasions that it is thankfully only harmful if swallowed.

As we retraced our steps along the muddy tracks towards the exit, we were taken to one last area where sat a carved figure blanketed with streamers, coca leaves and cigarette butts. “Tio” is the miners’ holy figure who ensures the miners work hard and continue to discover new deposits of the minerals. As an act of thanksgiving in return for his guidance, twice a year each cooperative sacrifices two llamas and splashes its blood on the walls behind where he sits.

The sunlight that streamed through the exit to the mines really was the light at the end of the tunnel after a suffocating few hours. Having only been in the mines for a total of three hours, a wave of relief swept over the group as we left behind the claustrophobic tunnels and unpleasant conditions. For the miners, however, this feeling of relief experienced each day as they finish work is replaced by the knowledge that they will return the following morning. The braveness of these men to overcome the difficulty of their work is the prevailing memory that remains long after the micro begins the steep descent away from Cerro Ricco.

That afternoon we visited the Casa de La Moneda (the Mint) which is located in the centre of Potosi. We opted for the Spanish tour because we had been advised to do so to get the most out of the visit. Unfortunately this advice did not apply to our guide who spoke so fast that none of us could understand her, and she rushed us through each of the rooms without giving us the opportunity to have a look around and grasp what each was about. The tour was average, and looking back I wouldn’t support the rave reviews that one will find on the National Mint in the guidebooks.

We had a few hours to kill before our bus back to La Paz, so we set ourselves up in one of the cafés on the Plaza. The hours passed quickly thanks to the café’s Jenga set that became our form of entertainment until 8:30 that evening when we headed back to the bus station.

Again I felt a great wave of relief as we arrived back in La Paz. Each time we leave what now feels like OUR city to explore Bolivia we are treated with a number of exciting and interesting experiences, however these never compare to the feeling of home that sweeps over us as we unlock the door to our apartment and salute Illimani who stands beautifully still in the distance.

Salar de Uyuni

It is incredible how short a time it takes for humans to feel at home in a new place. After an incredible five-day journey to the Salar de Uyuni, a sort of comfort came over me as we wound our way down the Prado into the heart of La Paz and everything became familiar again.

Before our journey to the Salar began, we had a big weekend in La Paz jumping from club to club to explore some of the most interesting nightspots in the city. Accompanied by our roommate Vampi and his friend Darko, we discovered the different atmosphere of Mongos (the club for ‘gringos’- foreigners), Traffic (known for its electric beats) and Blue (the quirky, slightly illegal spot that opens later than is allowed).

One by one we awoke on Sunday to the beautiful sunshine of La Paz and prepared ourselves for another ‘first time’ experience…a live football match between Bolivar and La Paz. This was not just any match however; it was in fact the battle for the championship trophy. Having attended and enjoyed a number of live sporting events back in Australia, I was curious to see how everything was treated in such a different country.

On arriving at the entrance to the stadium there were a number of cholitas selling what looked strangely like rectangular pieces of Styrofoam. The boys informed me that these serve as a cushion for the chairs in the stadium which I was told without the ‘cushions’, give you a very painful experience. As you can probably imagine things seemed a lot less serious in the stadium in La Paz compared to Australia…security was far more relaxed, the crowd was relatively tame (although still fun) and there was no alcohol sold on the premises.

The other obvious difference was the standard of the teams. As a group we had to laugh as ball after ball drifted far from the goalposts and resulted in a nil all draw at half time. In the second half the standard improved slightly with the end result seeing the popular Bolivar winning the game. It was definitely a worthwhile experience spent in good company.

The same evening we spent a dreadful ten hours on the bus to the Salar. Having been warned by a number of travellers of the horror that is the journey to the salt flats, I still remained surprisingly positive about the journey ahead. That is, however, until I experienced the serious rattling and bumping of the bus as it drove along the unsteady roads towards the Salar. Nina and I were also given the pleasure of sitting at the emergency exit (a sliding window that continued to open and blow freezing air over us for the entire duration of the journey)!

Functioning on a few minutes of sleep, we managed to bargain a 600 Bolivianos deal for a two night/three day tour of the Salar. Along with two French boys, two Korean women, two Australians, one Hungarian and one American guy we packed into the two jeeps that would become our means of transport for the following days.

It was at our first stop just out of Uyuni at the train cemetery that I had a devastating realisation. Having been rushed to pack due to the late start of the soccer match, I had left my camera battery on charge back in La Paz. Between us we were now left with only one digital camera.

After a few upsetting moments I decided to be positive about the fact that we at least had one camera, and that I would have a million other fantastic destinations to photograph over the next seven months.

From the train cemetery we moved on to a little village responsible for treating the salt and packaging it to then distribute to the surrounding cities. Incredibly the salt reserves that are found in Bolivia are hardly utilised, meaning the salt that is produced is transported only within the country. There are no exports of the salt meaning the poor economy misses out on the benefits from such a wealth of natural resources.

I will try to describe the absolute beauty of the Salt Flats however I feel photos and first hand experience are the only true way to appreciate the exquisiteness of the place. An incredible 2000km in circumference, the Salt Flats stretch out like a white blanket for as far as the eye can see. There are a number of layers of different minerals that compose the flats, with potassium, sodium, lithium, salt and water being the main ones. Along the flats are a number of pyramidal shaped igloos designed to dry out the salt so it can be taken to the next stage of the process. What is so fascinating about the salt flats is that while it seems there is a finite amount of salt, it is inexhaustible due to the fact that it ‘grows back’ after only a few days.

We spent an hour playing around with different camera effects and taking in the sheer enormity of the place before we were served with a traditional Bolivian delicacy, llama meat. It was served with vegetables and the typical Bolivian accompaniment of quinoa, and was rather tasteful.

After an hour or so driving across the salt flats we visited Isla Pescado, an island covered entirely in cacti. At the top of the Island we were treated to a stunning view of the salt flats which stretched for miles in every direction.

Before arriving at our hostel for the night, we made one last stop just as the sun was setting over the Salt flats. By this stage the water (which was previously absent) was now over a foot deep and as a result there were incredible reflections on the water of the surrounding mountains. Mouths agape we stood and admired the peacefulness of the site before we returned to the vehicles and drove the remaining hour to the hostel.  

Made entirely of salt, the hostel was a very basic structure positioned at the foot of one of the surrounding mountains. By this stage it was the evening and we could feel the temperature dropping rapidly, Nina and I both incredibly grateful for our down jackets. The building was made of salt bricks, the floor was composed of big salt rocks and the beds were concrete slabs with a mattress on top. As you can imagine, salt does not serve as a means of insulation and as a result we spent the evening clothed in every layer we had packed for the trip.

The following day was a busy one, with our first stop at the Volcan Tunupa. At the top of the volcano were a number of holes spitting smoke, the foot of the volcano was covered in orange boulders and the remains of previous lava explosions. After the volcano we spent the day moving from lake to lake, the most impressive in my opinion being Laguna Colorada. Maryam, Nina, Seneca and I had to laugh as we sat down to another delicious lunch with the most fantastic views of the lake and the mountains encompassing it. Lunch in the midst of the mountains was a truly surreal experience.

On making our way between the lakes we were forced to stop over at a check point at which sat five armed guards. After some seemingly relaxed conversation the driver of our vehicle handed over our bottle of fizzy orange drink and we were suddenly on our way again. After questioning our guide to settle my curiosity, I learned that the men were in fact soldiers that had been punished for failing to serve the captains’ orders during training. This could be firing two shots instead of one, or failing to move fast enough in the course of action. The reason they were so eager for a drink and not money was because as a punishment they were forced to race each other around the never-ending plains and only the winner was rewarded with a small portion of food or a drink.

As the sun began to set for the end to our second day we stopped over at the final lake which was a fantastic pink in colour. Also, the most exciting factor that differentiated this last lake from the others was that it was also the home of the native Bolivian flamingos. There were flocks positioned across the diameter of the lake and having never seen these birds in the flesh before I was amazed.

The second evening was spent in dormitory-style accommodation that, despite having been warned it would be less comfortable than the previous evening, I was pleasantly surprised at how much of a relief it was to have a concrete instead of a salt floor.

The evening was spent enjoying another delicious meal cooked by our friendly cholita and some red wine to try and warm up our insides. After dinner Abel, our tour guide, treated us to some of his famous jokes…many of which caused excessive laughter from the rest of us due to the meanings being lost in translation. With our 5am start in mind, I headed to bed at 11 to try and get some sleep.

Early the next morning in absolutely freezing temperatures we made our way to Laguna Verde. While its name translates to ‘green lake’, unfortunately it is only in summer that it is indeed green however we were still able to appreciate the site. Interestingly enough we were also informed that it is an important spot for scientists from around the world who visit the site frequently due to its stark similarities to Mars.

As the temperature had dropped freakishly low the next step in our journey was close to being the most satisfying. We shed our eight layers and dived into the hot spring which was at a comfortable 38 degrees. After our bodies had defrosted, we sadly had to dress and begin our eight hour journey back to Uyuni. Unfortunately our driver had a passion for Christian preaching music and so much of our journey was spent trying to heighten the volume on our iPods to block out the ranting.

Our bus trip from Uyuni to La Paz was much the same as the first trip, a horrible and uncomfortable ten hours. However this is such a small downside to the experience that even now I struggle to remember it. The lonely planet recommends this trip as one of the top ten things to do in Bolivia, and this is definitely the case. It is a breathtaking exhibition of the many wonders of nature and their power to capture the attention of travellers from across the globe.