What do backpackers do for christmas? I'm sure many of you are wondering...well the simple answer is get very, very drunk.
Before Xmas I should go into my jaunt at camping in Patagonia. 2 of us were foolhardy enough to think we'd be good at camping in one of the windiest places on earth. We were wrong, we were complete wusses, but we did it. We travelled to the far south of Chile to the Torres del Paine national park and with our rented camping equipment tried to set up. Our first set back was the fact that the fly sheet and the tent didn't match, which meant the poles were too long. (some short welsh idiot didn't bother to check this, can you believe it?). The second drawback was the lack of mallet and the very rocky ground. Thr third drawback was the high winds and the fact that I don't like camping.
Anyway, we hiked to the Torres through wind, rain and a beautiful rainbow (photos on facebook as ever) and returned to camp in the evening to find our fly sheet had blown off. Fortunately the tent was dry. We then spent a few hours hiding out at a nearby refugio, which had a fire, bliss, before heading to bed at 11pm. I spent the night fully awake listening to the high winds blowing the fly sheet around and praying we didn't take off in the night. I woke up proud of my achivement but happy never to camp again...
Following this experience our plan was to get to Ushuaia, the Southernmost town in Argentina for Christmas. Unfortunately everyone else had the same idea so we gave up trying and resigned ourselves to a dull christmas in Punta Arenas, a small town in Chile...until...we managed to find the last places on a bus leaving in 2 hours, and so with some hasty packing, a alot of swearing and a taxi we made it out of there.
Ushuaia is a town beautifully set on the magellan strait and surrounded by mountains. Massive cruise ships leave frequently for Antartica and although I would have liked to have gone budget wouldn't allow this time round. We did however spend Christmas at the Antartica hostel, which surely is the next best thing. On Christmas Eve around 40 of us tucked into an asado, or barbecue, and proceeded to get very drunk. A very young and funky Santa turned up at midnight with presents, or plastic party hats and capes for all. After much revelling and confetti chucking we headed out to a club, conveniently places opposite the hostel and partied until dawn.
Christmas day started in much the same way, champagne was flowing from 10am and after I'd finished mine I started on the beer. This led to a slightly ill me by early evening when I retired for a strategic nap. Emerging refreshed and ready for charades later that night. All in all it was a truly traditional Christmas.
Our next mission after Christmas was getting to Bariloche for New Years Eve. This involved catching a bus on at 6am on the 27th December and arriving at lunchtime on the 29th December. A mere 3 buses and 4 border crossings later... After this nightmarish journey we setlled into our hostel and set about organising New Years which in Bariloche meant getting a 'crew' together and heading out to a ski resort in the early hours for a party... The organisers had set up a bus to get there although me being me when drunk I had to ask the driver to stop so I could have a wee precariously on a steep bank in the dark. He very graciously waited for me. We partied for a while and then hitched a lift back to Bariloche with some kindly Argentinians. And with that it was 2008.
Tuesday, 8 January 2008
Wednesday, 2 January 2008
Hunting for Moai
And so to what may be one of my smuggest blogs...the account of my trip to Easter Island. For those of you who, like me, thought that Easter Island was a short boat trip from the mainland of Chile, let me explain how isolated it actually is. The flight there takes 5.5 hours, the nearest neighbour is, I believe Pitcairn, and all that can be seen from the coastline is the sea and the sky. My first night I made a few friends at the hostel/campsite (no of course I wasn't camping, I was in a dorm) and immediately set about their boxed red wine, those who have travelled through Chile may well be familiar with Gato Negro, the ruiner of many a morning for me. A few of us arranged to hire a jeep to take to the beach on the other side of the island the next day. So, feeling slightly bleary eyed, we set out to Anakena beach, a beautiful palm tree lined, white sand beach with a platform and several Moai statues watching over it. The beach, coupled with the turquoise seas made me actually relax, a very rare ocurrence, and feel like I was on an actual holiday within my backpacking trip.
I feel like I should give you a little of the history of the Moai, those of you not in the mood for a history lesson (shame on you) look away now... The statues range from around the 9th or 10th centuries and the last ones were made in the 16th century. They commemorated important members of the particular tribe that made them, the statues were raised onto a platform and faced inland to look over the tribe and protect them. the body of the person commemorated would be cremated on the platform itself. All the Moai on platforms were men, there are a couple of female Moai but unsurprisingly they weren't allowed on the platforms (probably would have distracted the male Moai or something) but were placed just in front. Tribal wars broke out in the 15th/16th centuries and as the ultimate means of humilating and defeating each other all the sacred Moai were toppled until a peace was negotiated and the cult of the bird man was created. (Be patient I'm almost done). This rather wonderful idea involved members of each tribe racing over a cliff across dangerous seas to a small island to collect the first egg of the nesting birds there and swimming back with the egg intact. The winner of the competition would be in charge for a year. Such a brilliant idea, it ended the wars and I think is something political leaders of the day might want to consider adopting. So that's the history bit, hope it wasn't too dull.
The Moai are all over the island and any long walk is permutated by Moai spotting, until every random rock begins to look like a statue and many hours are wasted clambering with anticipation. One of my favourite sites on the island was the quarry. It was abandoned when the war broke out with hundreds of half finished Moai (including one of the biggest at 24 metres) left in situ, almost as if they were emerging from the hill itself. The whole site has an eerie quality and it most strongly represents the fascination a lot of visitors have with the island I think. Of course in between all this history there was plenty of time for eating out at fantsatic seafood restaurants overlooking the sea, and cocktail drinking with new friends. Many a happy evening was spent sitting on the beach, drinking beer and waiting for a hopefully fantastic sunset behind the Moai or looking out for turtles dodging the children and surfers.
We also found time to hunt out handicrafts at the local jail, where the 5 island prisoners (4 robbers and 1 murderer) spend all day carving wooden Moai and jewellery to sell to tourists to the pumping sounds of heavy metal. Although I was slightly intimidated by the access they had to chainsaws, I did by a bangle at a knockdown price, unsurprisingly the prisoners are in no position to argue prices... exploitation, you bet.
I hope what I've painted is a pretty idyllic image in your minds of this unusual and beautiful island in the middle of nowhere, because that's genuinely how I felt about it. A week didn't feel long enough and I'd love to go back one day (anyone want to join me?).
I feel like I should give you a little of the history of the Moai, those of you not in the mood for a history lesson (shame on you) look away now... The statues range from around the 9th or 10th centuries and the last ones were made in the 16th century. They commemorated important members of the particular tribe that made them, the statues were raised onto a platform and faced inland to look over the tribe and protect them. the body of the person commemorated would be cremated on the platform itself. All the Moai on platforms were men, there are a couple of female Moai but unsurprisingly they weren't allowed on the platforms (probably would have distracted the male Moai or something) but were placed just in front. Tribal wars broke out in the 15th/16th centuries and as the ultimate means of humilating and defeating each other all the sacred Moai were toppled until a peace was negotiated and the cult of the bird man was created. (Be patient I'm almost done). This rather wonderful idea involved members of each tribe racing over a cliff across dangerous seas to a small island to collect the first egg of the nesting birds there and swimming back with the egg intact. The winner of the competition would be in charge for a year. Such a brilliant idea, it ended the wars and I think is something political leaders of the day might want to consider adopting. So that's the history bit, hope it wasn't too dull.
The Moai are all over the island and any long walk is permutated by Moai spotting, until every random rock begins to look like a statue and many hours are wasted clambering with anticipation. One of my favourite sites on the island was the quarry. It was abandoned when the war broke out with hundreds of half finished Moai (including one of the biggest at 24 metres) left in situ, almost as if they were emerging from the hill itself. The whole site has an eerie quality and it most strongly represents the fascination a lot of visitors have with the island I think. Of course in between all this history there was plenty of time for eating out at fantsatic seafood restaurants overlooking the sea, and cocktail drinking with new friends. Many a happy evening was spent sitting on the beach, drinking beer and waiting for a hopefully fantastic sunset behind the Moai or looking out for turtles dodging the children and surfers.
We also found time to hunt out handicrafts at the local jail, where the 5 island prisoners (4 robbers and 1 murderer) spend all day carving wooden Moai and jewellery to sell to tourists to the pumping sounds of heavy metal. Although I was slightly intimidated by the access they had to chainsaws, I did by a bangle at a knockdown price, unsurprisingly the prisoners are in no position to argue prices... exploitation, you bet.
I hope what I've painted is a pretty idyllic image in your minds of this unusual and beautiful island in the middle of nowhere, because that's genuinely how I felt about it. A week didn't feel long enough and I'd love to go back one day (anyone want to join me?).
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