A very descriptive title I know but I have been a tad slack again with the entries so that about covers it.
After yet another overnight bus journey, I was welcomed to Bolivia with exhaustion heightened by altitude sickness. I could barely walk for 5 steps with my rucksack on my back and eventually got a taxi a few hundred yeard to the bus station. Our mission was to get to Tupiza, a small town close to where Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid used to hang out, and I believe got killed. Our bus was due to leave at 2pm. There was a vast gulf between the Bolivian and Argentinian buses. We fought to get our bags on first (and therefore have them stored under the bus rather than strapped precariously to the top). We made our way for 3 hours across dirt roads before arriving at Tupiza. By all accounts we were lucky as travellers who ventured forth a week later found many of the bridges washed away and were re/built as they waited at the side of the road.
Tupiza was a small friendly town and a good intorduction to Bolivia. We went horseriding into canyons one morning (our backsides couldn't have taken more than a morning's worth of riding) and felt ourselves to be in cowboy country among the huge red rocks and catci. We also happened upon a celebration for Dia de Compadres, which we stayed and watched for a little while before watching it on tv later at the hostel. Fame at last. However, we couldn-t stay in Tupiza forever and so we journeyed onto Sucre.
Sucre is the judicial capital of Bolivia (and as any local will proudly tell you, the only capital of Bolivia). Its a pretty colonial town, the enjoyment of which was marred only slightly by the pre/carnival water attacks carried out by everyone, young and old. Just so you understand the extent of this many people, including myself were hit with water bombs, water pistols or cans of foam at least 5 times a day. Particularly difficult to avoid were the 'drive bys'. We managed to get out of the city for a day long hike, at altitude to look at 2000 year old rock paintings and the generally magnificent landscape in the area, created by a huge meteor crash which distributed huge rocks over a massive area. Sucre was marred only by me becoming ill on the last night, with a high fever and a fairly constant need for the toilet (use your imagination). Not ideal when faced with an overnight journey on a bolivian bus without a toilet. 8 immodiums later and I was good to go, although I had a couple of hairy moments where I had to beg the driver to stop the bus to let me off. Fortunately accidents were avoided.
We got to Oruro in the early hours and rocked up to our magnificently awful hotel, with its sloping mattresses and fairly disgusting outside toilets. Perfect for me as I was unable to leave the bed or eat for a couple of days, but of course, needed the toilet every 20 minutes. Oruro is the place to be in Bolivia for carnival. All the best dancers, musicians etc come there to parade for 4 days and nights and 100s of 1000s of people descend to enjoy the atmosphere and take part in the obligatory water fights. When I did feel better it was a lot of fun and the parades were magnificent, but in all honesty carnival mostly reminds me of feeling ill in a crap hotel bed, so the less said about it the better.
From Oruro it was a short bus ride to La Paz, renowned as the highest capital city in the world. You can indeed feel the altitude as you drive up to the city in the form of headaches and shortness of breath. The pollution from the 1000s of minibuses that ply the streets doesn't help the oxygen levels too much either. But approaching the city from above is an amazing sight, the city centre is in the bottom of a steep valley, houses and buildings rise up the sides and in every direction, particularly beautiful at night. I decided to take a break from La Paz for a few days by taking a fligth to Rurrenabaque in the North of Bolivia to go on a pampas tour. I boarded my tiny plane (a 20 seater) and wondered which of the 2 pilots would 'distribute the oxygen masks' in the event of an emergency, as presumably they'd be busy flying the plane.
We landed 45 minutes later on a strip of grass that was the landing strip in the jungle. Me and a few girls from the plane decided to get a tour together for the next day, 3 days on a hut on the amazon. We set out the next morning, a group of 10 plus our guide, Oscar. After a few hours by jeep we arrived at the river and boarded our long canoe type boat for a further 3 hour journey, permutated by stops to look at monkeys and turtles and exotic birds. When we finally arrived at our hut in the river everyone was ready for a swim to cool off. It was only later that our guide pointed out the resident alligator, Fred who lived around the hut. Although we were assured that he wasn't active by day so swimming was fine...hmmm. Our 3 days were filled with activities such as swimming with pink river dolphins, a scary as well as wonderful experience as you couldn't see beneath the surface of the river; searching for anacondas in swamps, and drinking the evening away in river bars. finally there was the constant finding of new (and in my case massive) mosquito bites in exotic locations. Always fun. Despite this being the rainy season we were lucky to havedry weather the whole time except the last day when we were faced with torrential rain for our entire journey home (2 hours by boat) and while negotiating mud roads in our jeep. The luke warm shower in our hotel when we got back had never felt so good.
Getting back to La Paz was a shock to the system, as I suddenly climbed from 500 metres in the jungle to 4000 again. But after a few days we moved on to Copacabana (no not that one, the one in Bolivia near Lake Titicaca), where music and laughter...etc etc. We visited Isla del Sol, a small island on the lake with 1000s of years of history and many cute donkeys. We trekked for 3 hours, or rather some of us trekked, I dragged myself up hills very slowly due to the very high altitude. (Altitude has been something of a theme in Bolivia).
After a few days of lakeside r n r, it was time to head south via a 'thrilling', as in dangerous, overnight bus ride to Uyuni to meet up with old friends and head off to see the Salt Flats. But as I've been typing now for far too long, I think that can be the start of the next blog...
Friday, 15 February 2008
Wednesday, 6 February 2008
Final days in Argentina
It has been brought to my attention that I've been somewhat rubbish with the entries lately...as usual I offer no apologies for being too busy to write but will attempt to make up for it now.
After the drunken festivities of New Year in Bariloche I turned to the serious matter of spanish lessons and a homestay, in a somewhat misguided attempt to improve my spanish. As soon as I entered my surrogate family home I realised that homestays weren't really for me. As lovely as my family were, I am not someone who copes well with small talk, particularly in a foreign language. I started my lessons on Monday at 9am and found myself in a class with possibly 2 of the most annoying people I've ever met... the keenest girl in the world who attempted to answer everyone's questions and a boy who enjoyed making random and disgusting slurping noises every 5 minutes. Despite all this the lessons helped and I learnt a lot and was ready to head on to Mendoza (and out of my homestay) a short week later.
Mendoza as you may have heard is the Argentinian wine capital; no visit is complete without a tour of a few of the wineries, some sampling and possibly some purchasing. We headed out on typically scalding hot day with Wanka tours... and yes, those of you who know how incredibly childish I am will realise how big a part the name of the company had to do with my picking them. Our first stop was at a family run winery, where we looked round the factory tasted some red wine and I bought a couple of bottles. Our second stop was at a large factory where we looked round, tasted some red and I bought a bottle. The final stop was at a liqueor factory where we looked round, tasted some chocolate liqueor and I bought a bottle of gin. I can highly recommend all the alcohol we bought as 3 of us polished it all off that evening. After a few days in Mendoza relaxing in the hot sun next to the hostel pool we left for Salta, my final stop in Argentina.
A huge storm raged for 3 hours during our overnight bus journey to Salta. Huge bolts of lightning struck the road metres from our bus...once I'd resigned myself to possible death, it really was spectacular. The stormy weather continued once we reached Salta and it dawned on me that we were entering the rainy season. Salta is a pretty town close to amazing mountains. It was once famous for the 'Train to the Clouds', which wends its way up through the mountains at high altitude. The train is hasn't been running for a while due to track maintenance, but we took a ridiculously large truck tour (with removable roof) along the same route. Huge cacti line the many coloured mountains (ranging from reds, yellows, purples, greens) until you climb so high even these hardy plants can no longer survive. Llamas roam around the plains but very little else. We stopped in a few isolated towns, one so small it consisted of one large family (7 brothers) and their livestock, including a large number of incredibly cute rabbits, which I chose to believe were pets not dinner. The tour guide got us drinking red wine and champagne on the journey back (I was praised for my professional drinking out of a large bottle) and insisted on getting the gringos dancing to regatton, the fairly awful music which always has the same beat. After impressing with my dancing skills, we returned to Salta for a well deserved rest after our 5am start.
The next day I'd signed up for yet another trip out to Huamhuaca, a town much further north, during which I learnt my favourite historical fact: during the fight gor independence, General Belgrano dressed up thousands of cacti in sombreros and ponchos to fool the spanish into thinking his army was enormous. The ruse worked allowing him time to build up the necessarily huge army and defeat the spanish at a later date.
Salta was to be the last stop in Argentina for me. I booked and overnight bus to the border town with Bolivia and prepared myself for the change of culture that was to come.
After the drunken festivities of New Year in Bariloche I turned to the serious matter of spanish lessons and a homestay, in a somewhat misguided attempt to improve my spanish. As soon as I entered my surrogate family home I realised that homestays weren't really for me. As lovely as my family were, I am not someone who copes well with small talk, particularly in a foreign language. I started my lessons on Monday at 9am and found myself in a class with possibly 2 of the most annoying people I've ever met... the keenest girl in the world who attempted to answer everyone's questions and a boy who enjoyed making random and disgusting slurping noises every 5 minutes. Despite all this the lessons helped and I learnt a lot and was ready to head on to Mendoza (and out of my homestay) a short week later.
Mendoza as you may have heard is the Argentinian wine capital; no visit is complete without a tour of a few of the wineries, some sampling and possibly some purchasing. We headed out on typically scalding hot day with Wanka tours... and yes, those of you who know how incredibly childish I am will realise how big a part the name of the company had to do with my picking them. Our first stop was at a family run winery, where we looked round the factory tasted some red wine and I bought a couple of bottles. Our second stop was at a large factory where we looked round, tasted some red and I bought a bottle. The final stop was at a liqueor factory where we looked round, tasted some chocolate liqueor and I bought a bottle of gin. I can highly recommend all the alcohol we bought as 3 of us polished it all off that evening. After a few days in Mendoza relaxing in the hot sun next to the hostel pool we left for Salta, my final stop in Argentina.
A huge storm raged for 3 hours during our overnight bus journey to Salta. Huge bolts of lightning struck the road metres from our bus...once I'd resigned myself to possible death, it really was spectacular. The stormy weather continued once we reached Salta and it dawned on me that we were entering the rainy season. Salta is a pretty town close to amazing mountains. It was once famous for the 'Train to the Clouds', which wends its way up through the mountains at high altitude. The train is hasn't been running for a while due to track maintenance, but we took a ridiculously large truck tour (with removable roof) along the same route. Huge cacti line the many coloured mountains (ranging from reds, yellows, purples, greens) until you climb so high even these hardy plants can no longer survive. Llamas roam around the plains but very little else. We stopped in a few isolated towns, one so small it consisted of one large family (7 brothers) and their livestock, including a large number of incredibly cute rabbits, which I chose to believe were pets not dinner. The tour guide got us drinking red wine and champagne on the journey back (I was praised for my professional drinking out of a large bottle) and insisted on getting the gringos dancing to regatton, the fairly awful music which always has the same beat. After impressing with my dancing skills, we returned to Salta for a well deserved rest after our 5am start.
The next day I'd signed up for yet another trip out to Huamhuaca, a town much further north, during which I learnt my favourite historical fact: during the fight gor independence, General Belgrano dressed up thousands of cacti in sombreros and ponchos to fool the spanish into thinking his army was enormous. The ruse worked allowing him time to build up the necessarily huge army and defeat the spanish at a later date.
Salta was to be the last stop in Argentina for me. I booked and overnight bus to the border town with Bolivia and prepared myself for the change of culture that was to come.
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