Home, sweet home!

We are all now safely back in Kiwiland, and our South American adventure already seems a world away.

It's been hard to stop saying 'gracias' or 'jugo de naranja' or other countless Spanish phrases in everyday life.

Salta wowed us with its lush green mountains and ancient Spanish architecture. One night, we all went out for dinner and Nick ordered some sort of meat dish. He was presented with a massive bulk sized hunk of meat the size of the plate, covered in melted cheese. We soon learned NOT to order lama neopolitana...

After a 21 hour bus ride from Salta to Buenos Aires, we were all keen to venture into a new country...Uruguay.

It took 1 hour to travel on the ferry across the estuary to Colonia, Uruguay. Colonia is a quaint port which used to be an old smugglers' base.

The whole town is a UNESCO world heritage site, it feels a bit like walking around Tuscany or an archeological museum. Nick and Peter hired out a mini golf cart and we hooned around the city on the right hand side of the road for a few hours....We discovered secret inlets and beaches where the water was as warm as a bathtub and there were beautiful reeds to explore.

The next day we travelled to Montevideo, which is home to three quarters of the population of Uruguay. Peter and I decided to go to 'Playa Pocitos', a renowned swimming beach near the heart of the city. However, we didn't realise that Uruguay has a funny form of mangled Spanish pronunciation. The taxi driver said, 'aah, you mean you want to go to plaasha poseetos?'

Me and the taxi driver yarned about the differences between Uruguay and New Zealand, the GDP, main exports....and the fact that the Uruguayans seem to be a whole lot friendlier than their 'porteno' cousins in Argentina. This went down well, as Uruguayans are proud to distinguish themselves from Argentinians.

Nick and I discovered an amazing undercover market, which was like a giant man cave. There was beer and enormous grills fired up by hot embers, upon which the chefs threw huge chunks of meat. The market was teeming with chimneys for the big meat furnaces, the whole place smelt like a hot summer's barbecue.

When we got back to Buenos Aires, we wandered around a famous antiques market. (San Telmo market). The place was teeming with old china dolls, teapots, cutlery, nick knacks, vintage lace dresses and millions of other bargains.

Later that day I stepped onto the subway and was horrified to find that the man standing behind me had tried to pickpocket me! My bag was gaping open, and I was very lucky that my wallet didn't get stolen. It's the sort of antiques market my grandmother would have loved to visit. San Telmo is an incredible part of Buenos Aires, it oozed vintage charm. THe buldings, shops and people are all like something out of Bohemian Paris, or old-timey 1920s New York.

And now our adventure is over. We are all back safely in NZ.But our memories of South America will remain forever.

Missioning across the Bolivian border

We made it to Argentina!

After a Bolivian bus ticket scam, a 3 hour wait to cross the border and an 8 hour bus ride we have finally made it to the charming city of Salta, Argentina. The heat on the Bolivian border was searing, and the queue of people crossing from Villazon (Bolivia) into La Quiaca (Argentina) stretched depressingly far into the distance.

Villazon is a friendly wild-west kind of town, framed by blood coloured mountains. The town hums with vendors selling fake DVDs, clothes, saltenas (a type of samosa) and sandwiches which have probably been out in the sun too long. After a 3 hour wait just to get our passport stamped we trotted across to the new frontier. We were desperate for food and water, but we had to get our bus organised. Unfortunately, after much drama we discovered that our tickets that were issued to us at the Tupiza bus station in Bolivia were fake and that we would be unable to travel to Salta as planned. The bus operator in La Quiaca took one look at our tickets and a dark look came over his eyes. He told us that it was our problem and in no uncertain terms he told us to ´bugger off´ and get out of his office. We started to think that we were doomed to stay in this dodgy border town forever, but we stayed staunch and tried a lot of fast talking to get the bus ticket we had paid for.

The argentinian side of the border was rough and unrelenting. Lightning jarred menacingly across the sky as we walked through the dodgy border town. Gone were the charming smiles of the Bolivian people, gone were the safe villages temming with vibrant markets, gone was our safe little haven. Now we had to be on our guard.

Fortunately a friendly bus company worker made some phone calls and managed to slip us onto an overnight bus to Salta. After all this drama, we are finally in Salta, which is like the ´garden city´ of Argentina. The city is glossed with beautiful colonial buildings, a gondola and a pedal boat lake. A fruit vendor has already tried to rip me off, but I wasn´t having a bar of it!

It has been difficult to find accommodation over the New Year period but after a lot of phone calls in Spanish to various youth hostels, we have sorted things out.

Salta has a sophisticated European charm about it, it´s definitely a lot less hectic and crazed than Buenos Aires. The streets are lined with majestic oak trees and proud old colonial buildings. Nick is hoping to go horse riding in a couple of days, apparently he will get an amazing BBQ complete with hunky Argentinian steak.

Coming back into Argentina from Bolivia has given us all a touch of culture shock. We have just come from a 3rd world country, so it is a real bonus for us that we no longer have to buy toilet paper all the time. (Hostels in Argentina have loo paper.) And it´s easy in Argentina to find soap.

Salta has an edge of urban modernism: Flashy looking banks, boutique clothing stores.....The poverty is not so apparent here as it is in Bolivia. In Bolivia we were surrounded by poor locals desperately trying to make a living. Some would stand proudly by their little cheese stall by the side of the road until very late at night. Whenever I said hello I got a beaming warm smile in return. I find myself looking back reminiscently on my time in Bolivia. Bolivia really is a spunky country doing very well for itself despite its poverty. Immigration systems at borders are very streamlined despite the fact that everything is done manually. The immigration office on the Bolivian side of the Argentine border had no computers, but it was an incredibly efficient system.

I miss the archaic manual systems of Bolivia, like the drawing pins on a big board used in movie theatres to allocate seats and the run down chicken buses that seem to get you from A to B even though you are scared stiff riding in them.

Bye for now,

Brittany

Desert lands and the Salar de Uyuni

Things are interesting in Bolivia at the moment... The entire transport network is on strike, there are blockades and demonstrations across the country. Why? A few days ago the price of petrol doubled overnight. The government can no longer afford to subsidise fuel and is sick of seeing fuel get smuggled cheaply out of the country. This means it is proving very difficult for us to cross the border. The bus station in Tupiza has signs everywhere claiming ´No salidas.´ No departures. Luckily we are only 3 hours from the border, so we are in a better situation than some people who are stuck in the Bolivian heartland.

Our Salar de Uyuni adventure started 4 days ago in Tupiza, the ´Wild West´ of Bolivia. We were amped for the adventure as we had just done a 5 hour horse trek through the steep canyons and rusty red mountain ranges. At various points along the trek my horse spasmodically started to gallop, a slightly frightening experience! Our horses dropped down several steep ravines and we had to cling onto the saddle so we wouldn´t tumble nastily down the ravine. It was an other-worldly experience as our horses navigated through deep red chasms, canyons and through vast expanses of cacti.

The next day we jumped onto a trusty Toyota Land Cruiser, the start of our Salar (salt falt) adventure: Day 1. We shared the 4WD with an eccentric Belgian man called Jerome who was addicted to coca leaves and chomped them while smoking cigarettes in the car. The car weaved through deep canyons and over ridges with steep gullies on either side.

The desertland was like something out of STAR WARS or Laurence of Arabia. At times we felt like we were a space probe on Mars. Eventually we bunkered down at our accommodation at a very poor rural village. Our Christmas Eve dinner was llama meat and delicious Bolivian veggies.

Day 2: We entered a national park and let ourselves simmer in some lovely hot pools near a pink lagoon with pink flamingos trotting through the lime green marshlands. We wandered through some ancient Quechuan ruins and drove past interesting gold mines.

The hills surrounding us were only 25km from Chile, they shimmered with a rusty red hue (iron) and green/yellow tinge (sulphur). I shuddered to think what would happen if our 4WD broke down in the middle of this relentless desert. There was absolutely no greenery or visible signs of life. Our guide told us that this environment was similar to parts of Mars.

Our 4WD ploughed on up to 5200m, possibly the height of Everest base camp. We hopped out and walked through some simmering geysers and sulphuric hot pools. The stench was very reminiscent of Rotorua. At this altitude it felt like someone had tied my stomach into knots and every footstep was a challenge.

We settled down for the night at a collection of shacks at the border of a pink lagoon, near the geysers. One person in our team was having serious problems with the altitude, but some ´Soroche´ pills eventually put him right. Digestion and ´Bolivia Belly´ was a constant nightmare for us all.

Day 3: Our 4WD ploughed through canyons and into an expanse of interesting rock structures. We were surrounded by smoking volcanoes and the relentless heat of the Bolivian desert. Eventually our 4WD surfaced into a land full of coral rocks - the coral was revealed after the lake evaporated at the end of the Ice Age. Our accommodation for this night was stunning - The entire hotel was made of salt. The bed, the tables, chairs, lampshades, the walls...Everything was salty (I licked it just to make sure!)

Day 4: Our jeep powered on to the edge of the Salar. We saw an incredible white landscape stretching 200km: The Salar de Uyuni. The whiteness was blinding and like something from another planet. We climbed to the top of a cactus island, where some of the cacti are 1200 years old. Words cannot describe the isolation and alien nature of this place.

We were given the opportunity to walk around on the Salar - a very special and other worldly experience. The salt chrystallises in a strange hexagonal pattern. I also came across strange potholes filled with salty water. Everyone was in awe at the pure white salt which stretched for miles and we all took some crazy perspective photos with a toy dinosour.

We came across a Salt Hotel, where a NZ flag was flapping on top of a salt altar. It was a very proud moment to see the NZ flag in the middle of the Bolivian salt desertland!

After some more fun four wheel driving to the edge of the Salar, our adventure was over...Or so we thought. We discovered in the village that Bolivia was in lockdown because the entire transport system was on strike. We would not be able to take the bus to the Argentine border after all...

Luckily, we managed to convince our guide to give us a ride back to Tupiza. Along the way we stopped for llama meat and made a sacrifice to the ´driving Gods´ which involved having to smoke a sacrificial cigarette and pour copious amounts of coca leaves and beer into the shrine. Behind a little glass window inside the shrine were little toy trucks, cars and a baby Jesus. Somewhat reluctantly, but respecting this sacrificial practice, I chewed coca the funny tasting coca leaves. The mood was sombre, as our guide took the sacrifice very seriously.

And here we are in Tupiza trying to get across the Argentine border....

Brittany

The Mines of Potosi and other Adventures

To pick up where I left off...

With the animal refuge behind us, Peter, Nick and I blasted off to Potosi, the highest city in the world. Potosi lies at 4200m and the altitude affected us in different ways. First up, at this altitude your nose starts to get very crusty and nose bleeds are common. (Unfortunately, this happened to me several times). Every few steps uphill left me gasping for breath, as if I had just run a school triathlon. My throat dried up and bowl movements were a whole other issue. We discovered to our dismay that it is nearly impossible for Kiwis to digest food properly at this altitude.

Potosi is famous for its silver mine, which has been in action for around 500 years (ever since the Spanish conquistadors first arrived in Bolivia). The safety standards in the mine are medieval, which we discovered on our second day in Potosi.

To our surprise, our bus pulled in at 4am, which was much earlier than we were told. Miraculously we managed to find a taxi at this god-forsaken hour and get to a youth hostel called ´The Koala Den.´ Not surprisingly we found many aussies at this humble abode.

The NZ Ministry of Foreign Affairs described Potosi as ´high risk´ on its website, but we found it to be the most amiable and friendly city we have been to in Bolivia. The city is fringed with majestic stone buildings which are a product of the prosperous silver mine. In the evenings, the whole city came alive and the town square was lit of with thousands of Christmas lights and a nativity scene.

Looming above the city is the deathly silver mine. It´s a rusty brown colour and looks rugged and forboding. On our second day in Potosi we organised a mine tour, which was definitely not for the faint hearted.

In the morning we were shuttled to a slum area to change into grungy looking mining gear. We looked like crusty old miners when we donned our miner´s helmet with headlight, plastic pants and poncho top. We were then taken to the ´miners market´ to buy gifts for the miners working in the mine. Our guide told us to buy coca leaves, soft drinks, dynamite, gloves and alcohol. All essential items for Bolivian miners working in Potosi.

After a sacrifice to Pacha Mama (mother earth) to protect us in the mine, we entered to eerie black abyss. As soon as I walked inside the tunnel, my throat felt prickly because of the levels of arsenic and sulphur. None of the miners wear any sort of mask to protect themselves from the poison gases in the mine. It is thought that most miners only live for ten more years after working in the Potosi mine.

I covered my mouth with a bandana, and ducked to avoid the pressurised air tubing and sulphuric rocks inches above me. The light at the end of the tunnel disappeared. Our guide led us down several levels in the mine and after about 45 minutes half our group had called it quits. Tourists who were perky at the start were almost reduced to tears and had to be led back out. We had to crawl down narrow vertical shafts and down wobbly ladders. Some tunnels were so narrow we had to crawl on our stomachs, and still we had to really squeeze our bodies throught he hole. I struggled to breath, but pressed on. Suddenly, we heard the frightening sound of dynamite explosions above our heads. At that point I said a little prayer that I would get out alive!

At one point some hagged looking miners ran up to us shouting ´gloves, gloves!´We quickly handed over some gloves and some coca leaves for good measure. The miners do not eat for 24 hours, as their shifts are 24 hours long. The only thing they can do in the mines is chew coca leaves and get supplies from tourists on tour groups.

At the end of one particularly hairy tunnel, we were given the option of being winched up several levels, where we could walk easily to the exit. Peter and Nick wouldn´t have a bar of it - They chose to crawl up again through the suffocatingly claustrophobic gap. However, I chose to be brave and cautiously attached myself to the rope. A miner worked a winching system several stories above me, and gradually I escaped out of the narrow tunnel. My harness was so dodgy and basic that I slipped out of once and had to cling to the wall of the tunnel.

On our mission out of the mine, we came across several teams of miners who were pushing a 2 TON barrel. One miner pulled the massive cart with a rope, and 2 other miners pushed it through the scary labyrinth. There was no electric rail system or other automatic means of pushing these incredibly hefty mining carts. Pure man power makes this mine work.

As I surfaced back into daylight, I breathed a grateful breath of arsenic-free air. Then it was time for our own dynamite explosion. Our guide lit the dynamite we bought at the market, ran down to a canyon, laid it on a rock, and had 1 minute to run for his life. The explosion reverberated for miles, it sounded like a death knoll or the first explosion of a world war.

Bye for now,

Brittany

These are a few of my favourite things... (in South America)

- Cama bus! $20 NZD gives you a first class comfy bed on a bus
- Jugo de naranja...Squeezed fresh every time
- Chocolate crepes
- Friendly Aymara women
- Alpaca jerseys
- Cheeky capuchin monkeys
- Balmy evenings lying on a hammock in the Yungas
- Meeting other intrepid travellers
- Conquering language barriers
- Conquering altitude sickness (finally)
- Standing over Machu Picchu at sunrise
- Labyrinths of sprawling markets
- Street vendors coming onto the bus to entertain you with magic tricks
- Crazy Spanish TV programs with the beetle man
- Finally getting to the destination after a hair raising bus ride
- Spider monkey falling asleep in your lap
- Desayuno americano
- Magnificent Inca ruins
- Fruit salad
- Cheap taxis
- Appletinis and Lemon drops in Buenos Aires
- Feedings tortoises and giving them baths
- Catchy latino techno music
- rooftop barbecues
- Border crossings
- The jagged Andean mountain tops
- Crossing Lake Titicaca in a dodgy boat
- Watching our bus cross Lake Titicaca on a dodgy barge
- Sunset over Isla del Sol, Bolivia
- Watching Andean condors glide over the mountains
- Getting happy exclamations of ´Kiwi!´ when I say to a local that I am from NZ
- Conversing with a local at the bus station

The Yungas

This post is about our experiences in the Yungas region of Bolivia, since we have spent quite a long time in the La Paz - Coroico environs.

The Death Road revealed....

A couple of weeks ago Peter and Nick mountain biked the world´s most dangerous road...They were lucky to come away unscathed because a few days ago we met a Kiwi who actually fell over the cliff and was only saved by falling into thorny tree.

As we ascended up to the Altiplano in the minubus our breathing became laboured...We were approaching 5000m above sea level. After a fiddle with the bikes, we made an offering to Pacha Mama (mother earth) by pouring some alcohol on the ground.

As the mist cleared, the bikes whizzed down the hillside, bracketed by intimidating stone walls on every side.

Eventually the bus made it onto the death road: Earthy dust, waterfalls and jaw dropping cliffs greeted us for the next few kilometres. Every few kilometres there was a shrine to someone who had perished, usually a careless bike rider who had toppled over the edge.

With everyone exhausted at the end of the day, we were rewarded with a scrumptious pasta lunch at La Senda Verde wildlife refuge.

The next time we faced the death road, we were on our way to volunteer at La Senda Verde. We were intrigued by the stories we had heard about the place, and turned up ready to get stuck in helping with monkeys, turtles and toucans.

Every morning we got up at 7am to feed ALL the animals. Basically we were given the responsibility of feeding all the animals at the refuge, with very little instruction or training.

Every animal was fed three times a day, the work was not too strenuous and we had time to form a bond with some of the cheeky capuchin monkeys. A little trickster capuchin called Niko tried to tear my hair out when he first met me, but after a few days he enjoyed getting rides on my shoulders and playing with buttons on my shirt.

The monkey enclosure was teeming with black spider monkeys, howler monkeys and capuchins. The spider monkeys loved to curl up in my lap, the capuchins loved playing with water and stealing anything they could find in my pockets. They figured out how to turn on taps and open water bottles!

We even got the responsibility of feeding an Andean Bear, called Aruma. Peter distracted it with nuts while me and Nick rapidly scrubbed out his cage....The other volunteers were interesting to talk to, two of them were doctors from Perth who found that their services were needed on more than one occasion.

Every day was varied at the refuge....We experienced Houdini monkeys escaping, a crazy Koati animals, wild dogs....Psycho toucans and squaky tropical birds.

We are off to lunch in Coroico now,

Adios!

Brittany

Climbing Huayna Picchu

We were saturated with Inca history and had explored the ruins - now for something a smidgen more adventurous: Huayna Picchu (´young mountain´).

Only 400 people are allowed to climb Huayna Picchu each day. Huayna Picchu is the steep, signature mountain behind the ruins of Machu Picchu. After a slightly gruelling climb to the Inca bridge, we embarked on this precipitous climb in the searing heat.

As the path up the mountain became more precipitous, I clung to the iron rail and dared not look down at the deathly drop inches away from the rail. After much puffing and huffing and scrambling through a cave I finally reached the summit. An ancient Inca guard house, terraces and ruins clung to the mountain, it seemed like they would topple over any second.

The way down was precarious - it involved slowly manoevring down narrow Inca stone steps and clinging desperately to rails to avoid the 500m drop over the cliff.

Huayna Picchu really knows how to kick the guts out of you but for all you tramping folk, I would really recommend it :)

Now we are back safe and sound in Cuzco. Every time I walk down the street ladies jump out at me and yell, ´Senorita, massage? Massage?´

A few days ago we all piled into a taxi and were waiting at the traffic light. Suddenly a street kid jumps out onto the busy main drag and proceeds to display his cartwheeling skills. Cartwheel after cartwheel, he weaved in and out of the cars chugging by the traffic light. After a cartwheel he ran up to the window of our taxi and held out his hand. This was probably the only way this kid would get money to survive.

This afternoon I chanced upon an ex-pat British restaurant, which served all the familiar goodies like roast dinners and Worchestire sauce...Yum! NO more guinea pig burgers.

Brittany