Sorry it has been a while since my last post, but Peru has kept us busy and on our toes!
Last week Peter, Nick and I ventured to the Inca heartland of Cusco, Peru. The first hurdle was actually getting on the bus itself, since the office man at our youth hostel sold us a phoney bus ticket and pocketed the money!
After a lot of fast talking, we managed to board the bus to Cuzco, sans bus ticket. Even after several tedious explanations to the bus driver, he still stopped in the middle of the Peruvian desert and threatened to kick us off. Luckily, a sweet guy from Argentina helped us out and after a few cellphone calls th driver was able to track down the dodgy man who had fleeced us of our money.
The border crossing was seamless compared to the Argentine-Bolivian border. When we handed over our passports the officials smiled ´Kiwi, Kiwi!´ The bus laboured on throough the Peruvian highlands and locals who were riding in the bus tried desperately to sell us everything from cold lime to big hunks of cheese. I´ll never forget the shrill whines of the locan ladies as the screamed ´QUESO! QUESOQUESOQUESO!!´ (Cheese! Cheese! You know you want my cheeese!´
We met some lovely Australians from Sydney, who have spent 6 months travelling the world from Africa to New York. We ended up bunking down at the same youth hostel, a funny wee nook in the heart of Cuzco city where the manager Manuel tries to sell us ever sort of Inca tour under the sun, and where the floor of the balcony slopes precipitously.
Cuzco is like the Queenstown of Peru. It screams tourist-ville. It is a stunning city laced with old Inca ruins and incredible museums, but everywhere we go, we are harassed by locals trying to sell us everything from ´hot massages´ to fake Ray Ban sunglasses. It gets tiring after a while. Simply ignoring them does not work, we literally need to scream ´NO! NO!´ several times for them to lay off us. A few days ago we were all having lunch in the town square, when suddenly a hoard of boys descended on us, they were standing inches away from our faces hounding us and shoving sunglasses in our faces. Nothing we said could make them go away, so we had to walk away.
Despite this annoyance, Cuzco is blessed with several awe-inspiring museums. At the Inca Museum we saw mummies, ancient Inca pottery, tools, tapestries and the original Spanish Chronicles. We wandered down to an Inca monument, an impressive bronze statue of an Inca Chief which towers above the city. We were able to walk inside it and gaze over the crazy hub of Cuzco.
Cuzco was designed by the Incas hundreds of years ago to look like the shape of a puma. The heart of the puma is the city centre (town square). Inca Kings used to live here, and the roads are still made with the original Inca granite slabs.
A couple of days ago we embarked on our adventure to Machu Picchu, the famous ´lost city´ of the Incas. We were picked up at 3am from our hostel, and driven 2 hours tot he train station. The train was incredibly stylish and we were served an assortment of drinks, chocolates and biscuits. As the train chugged along we were amazed by the sheer emerald mountains rising up from every direction. We were in the Peruvian Yungas, the lush forestland which leads down to the Peruvian Amazon. The mist was just starting to clear, and we felt like we were journeying to the valley of the Gods.
The final stop for the train was Aguas Calientes (meaning ´warm waters.´) We treated ourselves to a scrumptious dip in the hot pools, where we had an incredible view of lush green cliffs and mountains which were so steep they were like a knife edge. Aguas Calientes is a bit of a tourist-trap town, but it has a beautiful river rushing through the middle of it which pounds away throught he night. The river is so strong it is ike hearing rain constantly pattering on the roof. On one side of the river, the people live in leaky shacks and wooden hovels, but on the other side the town blossoms with wealth and fancy hotels. It is a huge dichotomy.
With eager anticipation we got up at 4am to catcht he first bus to Machu Picchu. We planned on climbing Huayna Picchu (´young mountain´) but only 400 people are allowed to climb it each day. The race was on. As our bus chugged up steep cliffs and through lush rainforest, I felt like I was entering the kingdom of Gods. The mist clings to the steepest mountains you have ever seen, the forest looks so green and untouched and beautiful it is like you are entering a whole other world.
For the first couple of hours we hired a guide to show us aroundt he ruins of Machu Picchu. It was worth every penny, as he explained things with such interesting detail - We never would have been able to figure out all the historical intricacies on our own. Our guide (a native Quechua man descended fromt he Incas) led us up to a lookout point where we caught the first glimpse of Machu Picchu. It took our breath away, it was even more incredible than words or photographs can describe. I compare the feeling to the first time I stepped inside Disneyland! A labyrinth of stone ruins sprawls over sheer cliffs. When you look over the edge, the drop is several hundred metres. It feels like its own kingdom in the sky.
We wandered through the Temple of the Sun, which is an example of incredible stone masonry. The labyrinth of stone ruins continued and we found stone sculptures which were carved into the shape of mountains, to mirror the shape of the mountains in the distance.
A 45 minute walk took us to an ancient Inca Bridge, which clung to the edge of a steep cliff - the drop was atleast 500 metres.
We explored old temples and the palace of the Inca King with its bedroom, living room and ancient Inca bathroom. The waterways, sewerage systems and roof bolts were so sophisticated it rivalled ancient Roman technology.
More to come on the arduous climb up Huayna Picchu,
Brittany
Tuesday, 7 December 2010
Greetings from Cuzco, Peru
Greetings from Cusco, Peru.
As requested by a couple of people, this is a few of the details about
what we have been up to (myself, Peter and Brittany) to date in South
America.
We were in the deep end from the point of the departure lounge in
Auckland Airport. The boarding announcement was in Spanish, along with
the majority of announcements on the plane. We flew with Aerloinias
Argentina, the national carrier The standard of the plane was just a
taste of what was to come.The seats uncomfortable and small, the food
terrible (by airplane standards) and service non existent. The airport
we flew into reminded me of pacific island airports. Basic and
rundown, the major building appeared from the outside to be a throw
away from USSR. Getting through customs and quarantine was largely
uneventful.
We stayed at a reasonable hostel in BA for US$13/night, including a
simple breakfast, spending the first couple of days adjusting to the
culture, trying out our Spanish and seeing the local sights. A major
highlight was a visit to a catholic cemetery which was entirely crypts
made of granite and marble, maybe a thousand in total. For most of the
crypts we were able to look through glass doors and actually see the
caskets, in one I counted a total of 13 caskets. All the crypts were
very ornate and the city was undertaking restoration on many of them.
A lowlight was Peter getting shortchanged at the subway, by about 90
Pasoes (NZD$40ish) and getting lost on the subway. The government
buildings were well worth checking out, a hangover of the Peron
´´think big´´ era. Buenos Aries is a beautiful city with colonial era
architecture but sadly the whole city seamed to be falling apart.
Walking down the footpath we were in constant fear of breaking an
ankle on the haphazard footpaths. Made up for by the excellent quality
(and portion sizes) of Argentine beef.
We quickly got sick of the big city and got ourselves bus tickets to
Santa Cruze, Bolivia. A 36 hour bus ride for NZD$150 each. We totally
stuffed up getting onto the bus by not properly checking in. This
resulted in a sprint from one end of the terminal to the other with
passports in hand and a lot of fast speaking by a Bolivian woman who
spoke a bit of english. If it was not for her we would have been
stuffed. Then there was the bus ride.... The bus had a toilet (banio)
and all manner of hawkers climbing on board at police checkpoints
selling everything from cold drinks to religion. The Bolivian boarder
crossing was very basic. Bolivian customs was a small grotty brick
building with one computer and grumpy officials wearing guns on their
hips. As it was a minor boarder crossing, they hadn´t seen many New
Zealand passports and were very curious of Brittany´s electronic
passport. They had to look up New Zealandin a table to figure out how
many days tourist visa to give us.
Santa Cruse, Bolivia was nothing more than a stopover. The tropical
heat and humidity was stifling and we were keen to get away quickly.
We took the friendly Bolivian lady, who helped us out at the bus
depot, for a wine, giving further opportunity to practise our spanish.
We paid about NZ$4 for a glass of house wine. A packet of cigarettes
costs NZ$2
We headed on to La Paz, another 14 hours in a bus. Santa Cruze sits at
an altitude of 300m, La Paz at 3500m. The bus went up a high as 4700m
on the Alto Plano. As we were going up it felt like I had a telephone
book on my chest and was slightly light headed. We stopped at about
4500m altitude for a toilet break. I made the mistake of walking too
fast and got very dizzy from lack of oxygen. The local saying for
altitude goes ´Move slowly, eat little and sleep by your poor little
self.´ Dropping back to 3500m (La Paz) was a godsend however carrying
our packs up 4 flights of stairs to get to our room at the hostel left
us gasping for air. The altitude effects were cured by Coca lollies,
made from the plant used to make cocaine. The locals chew coca leaves
like the British drink tea. Apparently it´s mildly addictive and later
in the trip Peter chewed Coca leaves to cure a headache.
The highlight on La Paz for me was mountain biking the worlds most
dangerous road. 60km long and 3500m of decent, mostly gravel with big
drop offs, the biggest a sheer 600m cliff. Until recently the road had
a toll of about 200 lives a year the worst accident a truck carrying
100 people that went off the edge. A new road was opened in 2006,
leaving the worlds most dangerous road to the odd local vehicle and
the mountain bikers. It maintains it´s reputation with an average of a
couple of bikers going off the edge every year. Our company had a
perfect safety record and thankfully it stayed that way. That night we
stayed at Corico, at a hotel costing us NZ$8 each for the room. We had
a recommendation to stay there, described as a living version of
Faulty towers, run by an insane french couple however the french
cuisine was excellent.
We tripped onto Copacabana, on the edge on Lake Titicaca and got our
first taste of electric showers. The shower head contains an electric
element to heat the water, which has a nasty habit of electrocuting
people. We got a mild buzz of touching the tap. Dinner that night cost
us NZD$3 each, and another $3 for beer. We crossed to Isla Del Sol, an
island run in a very authentic fashion. There was no mechanised
transport on the island (donkeys played a major role) and the locals
living a very traditional lifestyle in mud brick huts and small
agricultural plots. Isla Del Sol (Island of the Sun) lived up to it´s
name. The combination of clear skies and 4000m of altitude resulted in
a reasonable dose of sunburn. Fresh trout from the lake for dinner was
fantastic, a meal repeated three times in a row.
We pushed onto Cusco, the Archeology centre of south America, and have
visited several museums. In one we saw a Kumura, which was labeled as
a Kumura, in another we saw mummies, ancient brain surgery techniques
and many many vases. The Incan religion was a relatively simple one,
which was overridden by the invasion of the Spanish.
Tomorrow we move onto one of the highlights of the trip, Machu Picchu,
the ancient Inca ruins. From there we are returning to Bolivia to
spend two weeks volunteering at a wildlife refuge (think monkeys,
turtles, birds, a bear and other exotic creatures). We will then head
to Salar De Uyuni, an area of extensive salt flats, then back into
Argentina and down to Patagonia.
I hope this email finds you well and ready for the rush up to
Christmas, and if you are interested in more detail on what we are up
to, check out the blog at
http://2010asouthamericanodyssey.blogspot.com/
Kind Regards
Nick
As requested by a couple of people, this is a few of the details about
what we have been up to (myself, Peter and Brittany) to date in South
America.
We were in the deep end from the point of the departure lounge in
Auckland Airport. The boarding announcement was in Spanish, along with
the majority of announcements on the plane. We flew with Aerloinias
Argentina, the national carrier The standard of the plane was just a
taste of what was to come.The seats uncomfortable and small, the food
terrible (by airplane standards) and service non existent. The airport
we flew into reminded me of pacific island airports. Basic and
rundown, the major building appeared from the outside to be a throw
away from USSR. Getting through customs and quarantine was largely
uneventful.
We stayed at a reasonable hostel in BA for US$13/night, including a
simple breakfast, spending the first couple of days adjusting to the
culture, trying out our Spanish and seeing the local sights. A major
highlight was a visit to a catholic cemetery which was entirely crypts
made of granite and marble, maybe a thousand in total. For most of the
crypts we were able to look through glass doors and actually see the
caskets, in one I counted a total of 13 caskets. All the crypts were
very ornate and the city was undertaking restoration on many of them.
A lowlight was Peter getting shortchanged at the subway, by about 90
Pasoes (NZD$40ish) and getting lost on the subway. The government
buildings were well worth checking out, a hangover of the Peron
´´think big´´ era. Buenos Aries is a beautiful city with colonial era
architecture but sadly the whole city seamed to be falling apart.
Walking down the footpath we were in constant fear of breaking an
ankle on the haphazard footpaths. Made up for by the excellent quality
(and portion sizes) of Argentine beef.
We quickly got sick of the big city and got ourselves bus tickets to
Santa Cruze, Bolivia. A 36 hour bus ride for NZD$150 each. We totally
stuffed up getting onto the bus by not properly checking in. This
resulted in a sprint from one end of the terminal to the other with
passports in hand and a lot of fast speaking by a Bolivian woman who
spoke a bit of english. If it was not for her we would have been
stuffed. Then there was the bus ride.... The bus had a toilet (banio)
and all manner of hawkers climbing on board at police checkpoints
selling everything from cold drinks to religion. The Bolivian boarder
crossing was very basic. Bolivian customs was a small grotty brick
building with one computer and grumpy officials wearing guns on their
hips. As it was a minor boarder crossing, they hadn´t seen many New
Zealand passports and were very curious of Brittany´s electronic
passport. They had to look up New Zealandin a table to figure out how
many days tourist visa to give us.
Santa Cruse, Bolivia was nothing more than a stopover. The tropical
heat and humidity was stifling and we were keen to get away quickly.
We took the friendly Bolivian lady, who helped us out at the bus
depot, for a wine, giving further opportunity to practise our spanish.
We paid about NZ$4 for a glass of house wine. A packet of cigarettes
costs NZ$2
We headed on to La Paz, another 14 hours in a bus. Santa Cruze sits at
an altitude of 300m, La Paz at 3500m. The bus went up a high as 4700m
on the Alto Plano. As we were going up it felt like I had a telephone
book on my chest and was slightly light headed. We stopped at about
4500m altitude for a toilet break. I made the mistake of walking too
fast and got very dizzy from lack of oxygen. The local saying for
altitude goes ´Move slowly, eat little and sleep by your poor little
self.´ Dropping back to 3500m (La Paz) was a godsend however carrying
our packs up 4 flights of stairs to get to our room at the hostel left
us gasping for air. The altitude effects were cured by Coca lollies,
made from the plant used to make cocaine. The locals chew coca leaves
like the British drink tea. Apparently it´s mildly addictive and later
in the trip Peter chewed Coca leaves to cure a headache.
The highlight on La Paz for me was mountain biking the worlds most
dangerous road. 60km long and 3500m of decent, mostly gravel with big
drop offs, the biggest a sheer 600m cliff. Until recently the road had
a toll of about 200 lives a year the worst accident a truck carrying
100 people that went off the edge. A new road was opened in 2006,
leaving the worlds most dangerous road to the odd local vehicle and
the mountain bikers. It maintains it´s reputation with an average of a
couple of bikers going off the edge every year. Our company had a
perfect safety record and thankfully it stayed that way. That night we
stayed at Corico, at a hotel costing us NZ$8 each for the room. We had
a recommendation to stay there, described as a living version of
Faulty towers, run by an insane french couple however the french
cuisine was excellent.
We tripped onto Copacabana, on the edge on Lake Titicaca and got our
first taste of electric showers. The shower head contains an electric
element to heat the water, which has a nasty habit of electrocuting
people. We got a mild buzz of touching the tap. Dinner that night cost
us NZD$3 each, and another $3 for beer. We crossed to Isla Del Sol, an
island run in a very authentic fashion. There was no mechanised
transport on the island (donkeys played a major role) and the locals
living a very traditional lifestyle in mud brick huts and small
agricultural plots. Isla Del Sol (Island of the Sun) lived up to it´s
name. The combination of clear skies and 4000m of altitude resulted in
a reasonable dose of sunburn. Fresh trout from the lake for dinner was
fantastic, a meal repeated three times in a row.
We pushed onto Cusco, the Archeology centre of south America, and have
visited several museums. In one we saw a Kumura, which was labeled as
a Kumura, in another we saw mummies, ancient brain surgery techniques
and many many vases. The Incan religion was a relatively simple one,
which was overridden by the invasion of the Spanish.
Tomorrow we move onto one of the highlights of the trip, Machu Picchu,
the ancient Inca ruins. From there we are returning to Bolivia to
spend two weeks volunteering at a wildlife refuge (think monkeys,
turtles, birds, a bear and other exotic creatures). We will then head
to Salar De Uyuni, an area of extensive salt flats, then back into
Argentina and down to Patagonia.
I hope this email finds you well and ready for the rush up to
Christmas, and if you are interested in more detail on what we are up
to, check out the blog at
http://
Kind Regards
Nick
Wednesday, 1 December 2010
THE DEATH ROAD. WE SURVIVED
La camina de los muertos - the Road of Death. The name slips over the tongue like a deadly omen.
Last Friday Nick and Peter were brave enough to MOUNTAIN BIKE the world´s most dangerous road. I was only brave enough to creep down in the support van behind them.
The road manoevres through the Yungas - stunning, lush emerald coloured mountains which grasp the sky. The Yunga mountains are precipitous, steep and deadly.Along the road there was a Narcotics check point, road works, dodgy vans and vendors selling trinkets and junk food.
The guide from Gravity Assisted tours made us peer over the edge of the cliff at one point to see a crushed mini van at the bottom. 10 people had died. It was a sobering reminder of the dangers of this road.
Along the Death Road there are numerous crosses to commemorate the lives of those who have perished on the road. At one particular bend there was an overhanging waterfall, the road was barely 1.5 metres wide and rocks were crumbling away from the road. At this particular bend I could see numerous religious crosses.
At the bottom of the road we were rewarded with a cold beer, and spent some time gobbling up a yummy lunch at Senda Verde wildlife refuge. A capuchin monkey climbed all over Nick and Peter - rather cute.
That night we bunkered down at a hostel in nearby Coroico. The hostel we stayed at was run by a crazy French couple. The Lonely Planet warned us that the hostel was scarily akin to Faulty Towers...But the filet mignon was out of this world! That French couple sure knew how to cook! In the evening we could see condors (eagles) soaring over the cliffs and emerald green jungle of the Jungas mountains.
I will get Peter or Nick to write in more detail about the Death Road,
Brittany
Last Friday Nick and Peter were brave enough to MOUNTAIN BIKE the world´s most dangerous road. I was only brave enough to creep down in the support van behind them.
The road manoevres through the Yungas - stunning, lush emerald coloured mountains which grasp the sky. The Yunga mountains are precipitous, steep and deadly.Along the road there was a Narcotics check point, road works, dodgy vans and vendors selling trinkets and junk food.
The guide from Gravity Assisted tours made us peer over the edge of the cliff at one point to see a crushed mini van at the bottom. 10 people had died. It was a sobering reminder of the dangers of this road.
Along the Death Road there are numerous crosses to commemorate the lives of those who have perished on the road. At one particular bend there was an overhanging waterfall, the road was barely 1.5 metres wide and rocks were crumbling away from the road. At this particular bend I could see numerous religious crosses.
At the bottom of the road we were rewarded with a cold beer, and spent some time gobbling up a yummy lunch at Senda Verde wildlife refuge. A capuchin monkey climbed all over Nick and Peter - rather cute.
That night we bunkered down at a hostel in nearby Coroico. The hostel we stayed at was run by a crazy French couple. The Lonely Planet warned us that the hostel was scarily akin to Faulty Towers...But the filet mignon was out of this world! That French couple sure knew how to cook! In the evening we could see condors (eagles) soaring over the cliffs and emerald green jungle of the Jungas mountains.
I will get Peter or Nick to write in more detail about the Death Road,
Brittany
Here I am in a little internet cafe in Cobacabana, Bolivia. I´m higher than La Paz, about 4000m above sea level and I sure can feel it. Peter and Nick convinced me to walk up a steep hill above the town yesterday, but it was a real killer. My gasps were so heavy I thought I´d collapse!
Cobacabana is a quaint wee tourist town. Aymara women line the streets poking their heads out of little nooks. They sell massive sacks of popcorn, alpaca jerseys and soft drinks.
Yesterday evening Peter, Nick and I ventured to the mystical Isla del Sol, said to be the birthplace of the Inca Empire. The island was carved into Inca terraces, and llamas and donkeys meandered up steep cobblestoned labyrinth paths.
A lovely Aymara lady looked after us when we stayed at Hostal Ichi. She made us the most tender trout from the lake. In the evening we gazed over azure blue Lake Titicaca. Our New Zealand pride still makes us think New Zealand is more beautiful, however.
Here in Bolivia the only beer available is called ¨Pacena¨. Nick and Peter hate it but after a hard day in Spanish land they will guzzle anything down!
As an aside, orange juice is amazing in South America. It is made from real oranges and squeezed especially to order. It´s one of my favourite treats here.
The kids here think Peter is so tall. Wherever he goes the kids whisper ¨Que alto!¨(How tall he is!) Isla del Sol reminded me of the Marlborough Sounds - Kids played in the lake, making mischief. Cheap outboard motors were used to ferry people to far- flung inlets. The evenings were spent relaxing and playing soccer. The sun baked down on us, and we found ourselves rapidly slipping into island time.
The next day we walked up the Inca terraces to the top of the ridge, first we had to pass by a formidable Inca statue and make a religious offering at the top of the Inca walkway. At the top of the ridge we got a fantastic view over the island and could see the Andean mountains glistening in the distance. We could also see the Peruvian border. The walk up the hill was a killer! Try walking up steep cliffs at this altitude, it sure is character building!
We made it back safely to Cobacabana, tomorrow we head to Cuzco and the Sacred Valley.
More adventures to come,
Brittany
Cobacabana is a quaint wee tourist town. Aymara women line the streets poking their heads out of little nooks. They sell massive sacks of popcorn, alpaca jerseys and soft drinks.
Yesterday evening Peter, Nick and I ventured to the mystical Isla del Sol, said to be the birthplace of the Inca Empire. The island was carved into Inca terraces, and llamas and donkeys meandered up steep cobblestoned labyrinth paths.
A lovely Aymara lady looked after us when we stayed at Hostal Ichi. She made us the most tender trout from the lake. In the evening we gazed over azure blue Lake Titicaca. Our New Zealand pride still makes us think New Zealand is more beautiful, however.
Here in Bolivia the only beer available is called ¨Pacena¨. Nick and Peter hate it but after a hard day in Spanish land they will guzzle anything down!
As an aside, orange juice is amazing in South America. It is made from real oranges and squeezed especially to order. It´s one of my favourite treats here.
The kids here think Peter is so tall. Wherever he goes the kids whisper ¨Que alto!¨(How tall he is!) Isla del Sol reminded me of the Marlborough Sounds - Kids played in the lake, making mischief. Cheap outboard motors were used to ferry people to far- flung inlets. The evenings were spent relaxing and playing soccer. The sun baked down on us, and we found ourselves rapidly slipping into island time.
The next day we walked up the Inca terraces to the top of the ridge, first we had to pass by a formidable Inca statue and make a religious offering at the top of the Inca walkway. At the top of the ridge we got a fantastic view over the island and could see the Andean mountains glistening in the distance. We could also see the Peruvian border. The walk up the hill was a killer! Try walking up steep cliffs at this altitude, it sure is character building!
We made it back safely to Cobacabana, tomorrow we head to Cuzco and the Sacred Valley.
More adventures to come,
Brittany
Thursday, 25 November 2010
Harry Potter, Bolivian style...
Last night Peter, Nick and I thought we would take the plunge and finally see the Harry Potter movie. We were convinced it would be in English with Spanish subtitles, in fact, all the signage supported this belief. However, we were shocked when Snape started blabbering in indecipherable Spanish and Hermione screeched in a mangle of indecipherable Espagnol. We couldn't understand a thing!
The theatre was like a time warp to Soviet Russia, there was even an intermission of 7 MINUTOS which flashed on the screen half way through the movie. I thought we would have to stand up and sing the Bolivian national anthem...Seats were allocated manually at the box office using plastic pins and a notice board.
Today Nick got conned by a tour operator who was going to take us to the Tiwanuku ruins but...he never showed up to take us there....
More juicy news to come!
Brittany
The theatre was like a time warp to Soviet Russia, there was even an intermission of 7 MINUTOS which flashed on the screen half way through the movie. I thought we would have to stand up and sing the Bolivian national anthem...Seats were allocated manually at the box office using plastic pins and a notice board.
Today Nick got conned by a tour operator who was going to take us to the Tiwanuku ruins but...he never showed up to take us there....
More juicy news to come!
Brittany
Wednesday, 24 November 2010
Thoughts on Argentina
Hi All
Having left Argentina four days ago, I can now reflect on my time in that interesting country. Above all else, Argentina has an air of sad but proud decay about it, a once highly prosperous country that seems to have been brought to its knees by decades of political instability, although in recent years it seems to have got a bit better.
Arriving at Ezezia International Airporty last Tuesday put us back to the 1960s - one stuffy little customs and immigration room, no quaratine control, and a bored looking security guard who didn´t check the screen as our bags passed through X-ray. We were the only native English speakers there - surrounded by staunch Argentines for whom this sort of hampered life was normal. I realised then that tourism in this part of the world is scarcely developed, and that we had better learn some Spanish and fast, or hope like hell that Brittany would pick it up quick (which she did).
We got a taxi to the airport, and this was an experience. 6 lanes of road either side, strewn with rubbish from the numerous barrios (Spanish for slum) surrounding us. Half built and semi-decayed housing estate towers rose up in every direction, like the set from an apocalyptic war. Buenos Aires is a city of 15 million people after all. Soviet design appears to have taken strong hold here, and as a planner, I re-iterate my rule - never build cities on the flat.
Central Buenos Aires was a surprise however - traffic everywhere, noise everwhere, but somehow it all worked, and the streets were relatively safe, even after dark when we all went out. The subway was exciting, as I have never been on one. Quick efficient, and heavily used, the only drawback being dodgy ticket clerks who short-changed me, a gain for them perhaps but only a $NZ 20.00 loss for me. That won´t happen again.
Politics appears to be big here, if not quite as big as football. Everywhere there are signs and graffitti devoted to Peron and the Kirchners, especially considering that Nestor Kirchner, the former President and husband of the current President Cristina Kirchner had died only a few weeks before we arrived. People are upset - this guy seems to have been the modern day Peron, attempting to rebuild the country from the military dictatorship that ran it from 1975 to 1983 and then the right-wing agenda that took hold after it.
We went into the posh neighbourhood of Recoletta, where wealthy Argentines seem to live out the glory years of Argentina, hidden from the knowledge of what is happening to the rest of the country. The socialist political graffitti wasn´t to be found here though!. What we did find was incredibly unhelpful banks and restaurants with hidden charges for everything - and Portenos Spanish is almost indecipherable. I was glad to leave.
The centre of town is reminiscent of Moscow or an Eastern European capital - huge Italinate columns on buildings similar to the Acropolis of Greece (Peron admired Mussolini), and security guards and police everywhere. As electronic banking is so limited, armoured cars with armoured drivers are everywhere. But cracked sidewalks indicate that that whatever money there is, isn´t being spent on the basics.
Our neighbourhood was quite nice, but still challenging with our lack of Spanish. So when the time came to hop on the bus (an experience in itself, given the crazy Indian-level chaos of the bus station at Retiro) I was pleased to get out of the city, and highly pleased not to have to live in one like it.
More to come on the bus ride to the Argentine border and onwards to Santa Cruz, and then our current experiences in Bolivia.
Having left Argentina four days ago, I can now reflect on my time in that interesting country. Above all else, Argentina has an air of sad but proud decay about it, a once highly prosperous country that seems to have been brought to its knees by decades of political instability, although in recent years it seems to have got a bit better.
Arriving at Ezezia International Airporty last Tuesday put us back to the 1960s - one stuffy little customs and immigration room, no quaratine control, and a bored looking security guard who didn´t check the screen as our bags passed through X-ray. We were the only native English speakers there - surrounded by staunch Argentines for whom this sort of hampered life was normal. I realised then that tourism in this part of the world is scarcely developed, and that we had better learn some Spanish and fast, or hope like hell that Brittany would pick it up quick (which she did).
We got a taxi to the airport, and this was an experience. 6 lanes of road either side, strewn with rubbish from the numerous barrios (Spanish for slum) surrounding us. Half built and semi-decayed housing estate towers rose up in every direction, like the set from an apocalyptic war. Buenos Aires is a city of 15 million people after all. Soviet design appears to have taken strong hold here, and as a planner, I re-iterate my rule - never build cities on the flat.
Central Buenos Aires was a surprise however - traffic everywhere, noise everwhere, but somehow it all worked, and the streets were relatively safe, even after dark when we all went out. The subway was exciting, as I have never been on one. Quick efficient, and heavily used, the only drawback being dodgy ticket clerks who short-changed me, a gain for them perhaps but only a $NZ 20.00 loss for me. That won´t happen again.
Politics appears to be big here, if not quite as big as football. Everywhere there are signs and graffitti devoted to Peron and the Kirchners, especially considering that Nestor Kirchner, the former President and husband of the current President Cristina Kirchner had died only a few weeks before we arrived. People are upset - this guy seems to have been the modern day Peron, attempting to rebuild the country from the military dictatorship that ran it from 1975 to 1983 and then the right-wing agenda that took hold after it.
We went into the posh neighbourhood of Recoletta, where wealthy Argentines seem to live out the glory years of Argentina, hidden from the knowledge of what is happening to the rest of the country. The socialist political graffitti wasn´t to be found here though!. What we did find was incredibly unhelpful banks and restaurants with hidden charges for everything - and Portenos Spanish is almost indecipherable. I was glad to leave.
The centre of town is reminiscent of Moscow or an Eastern European capital - huge Italinate columns on buildings similar to the Acropolis of Greece (Peron admired Mussolini), and security guards and police everywhere. As electronic banking is so limited, armoured cars with armoured drivers are everywhere. But cracked sidewalks indicate that that whatever money there is, isn´t being spent on the basics.
Our neighbourhood was quite nice, but still challenging with our lack of Spanish. So when the time came to hop on the bus (an experience in itself, given the crazy Indian-level chaos of the bus station at Retiro) I was pleased to get out of the city, and highly pleased not to have to live in one like it.
More to come on the bus ride to the Argentine border and onwards to Santa Cruz, and then our current experiences in Bolivia.
Bienvedidos a La Paz!
We are now in La Paz, after an incredible bus ride over the Altiplano. The Altiplano is a magnificent desert land about 4000m above sea level.
Our manic bus driver manouvred the bus out of the bustling Santa Cruz streets. At intersections poor street vendors banged on the doors of the bus demanding to be let on. They came on board and tried to sell us everything from raffle tickets to dried bread and cold lime.
A few hours later a young man came aboard to play his Bolivian pipe instrument. Our bus driver let beggars and hitch hikers on board, I was blown away by his compassion, even if his driving skills left much to be desired!
Words cannot describe La Paz. The city truly defies gravity - Crumbling brick shacks cling precipitously to the side of cliffs, encased by subliminal mountain ranges.
La Paz lies at 3700m abover sea level, and we have already had our dose of altitude sickness. At first it felt like a telephone book was pressing against my chest. Then it felt like a toddler was jumping on my rib cage. My muscles turned to jelly and walking up a few flights of stairs makes me incredibly out of breath. Then came the dizziness, nausea and headaches.
I´ve just woken up from a delectable slumber and am feeling pretty good - no more headaches and nausea. We´re all going to take it easy at this altitude.
Our accommodation is right opposite the `witches market` where you can buy everything from baby llama skeletons to coca leaves, coca lollies and velvety smooth alpaca wool jerseys.
La Paz is undeniably one of the most breath taking cities in the world. Literally. I get the feeling that La Paz is one of Bolivia's treasured gems, there is barely a scrap of rubbish to be seen, street sweepers clean the streets at every corner and the inner city gardens and parks are kept immaculate.
The city is peppered with guards in green military uniforms carrying hefty machine guns and people in zebra costumes directing traffic. Apparently the zebra approach works a treat for the city council...The zebras do a little dance and shimmy to show the direction for the cars to go.
Bolivia also has the BEST juices you have ever tasted. You can get anything from apricot, guava or mango juice and it tastes like you have just picked a ripe fruit from tree.
La Paz has many western amenities, i.e Burger King, pepsi.....but it does sell countless coca products which help with altitude sickness. 'Mama Coca' is a store up the road which sells coca tea, tablets, leaves...But the shop seems to be barred up most of the time.
The temperature here is mild, which surprises me considering the high altitude. Get chatting to a Bolivian and you will discover they have an amazing life story. A man at Santa Cruz bus station yarned to me about his days working in the Oruro mines. All the work was done manually for 1000km.
I am left in no doubt that Bolivia is a humanist, socialist nation. Evo Morales won 64.2% of the national vote in the 2009 election, leader of the Movement for Socialism Party. Everyone seems to have a smile on their face, everyone is eager to help with my stilted Spanish. The Aymara native women work incredibly hard for their families, I often see them lugging babies, knitting and groceries up steep hills.
Despite the lack of wealth in this city, every person I have seen is dressed immaculately. Bolivians must be very proud of their appearance. There is a noticeable divide between rich and poor, but every Bolivian I have seen resiliently gets through each day and works damn hard to put food on the table.
Tomorrow we are going to see the Inca ruins of Tiwananuku.
Adios,
Brittany
We are now in La Paz, after an incredible bus ride over the Altiplano. The Altiplano is a magnificent desert land about 4000m above sea level.
Our manic bus driver manouvred the bus out of the bustling Santa Cruz streets. At intersections poor street vendors banged on the doors of the bus demanding to be let on. They came on board and tried to sell us everything from raffle tickets to dried bread and cold lime.
A few hours later a young man came aboard to play his Bolivian pipe instrument. Our bus driver let beggars and hitch hikers on board, I was blown away by his compassion, even if his driving skills left much to be desired!
Words cannot describe La Paz. The city truly defies gravity - Crumbling brick shacks cling precipitously to the side of cliffs, encased by subliminal mountain ranges.
La Paz lies at 3700m abover sea level, and we have already had our dose of altitude sickness. At first it felt like a telephone book was pressing against my chest. Then it felt like a toddler was jumping on my rib cage. My muscles turned to jelly and walking up a few flights of stairs makes me incredibly out of breath. Then came the dizziness, nausea and headaches.
I´ve just woken up from a delectable slumber and am feeling pretty good - no more headaches and nausea. We´re all going to take it easy at this altitude.
Our accommodation is right opposite the `witches market` where you can buy everything from baby llama skeletons to coca leaves, coca lollies and velvety smooth alpaca wool jerseys.
La Paz is undeniably one of the most breath taking cities in the world. Literally. I get the feeling that La Paz is one of Bolivia's treasured gems, there is barely a scrap of rubbish to be seen, street sweepers clean the streets at every corner and the inner city gardens and parks are kept immaculate.
The city is peppered with guards in green military uniforms carrying hefty machine guns and people in zebra costumes directing traffic. Apparently the zebra approach works a treat for the city council...The zebras do a little dance and shimmy to show the direction for the cars to go.
Bolivia also has the BEST juices you have ever tasted. You can get anything from apricot, guava or mango juice and it tastes like you have just picked a ripe fruit from tree.
La Paz has many western amenities, i.e Burger King, pepsi.....but it does sell countless coca products which help with altitude sickness. 'Mama Coca' is a store up the road which sells coca tea, tablets, leaves...But the shop seems to be barred up most of the time.
The temperature here is mild, which surprises me considering the high altitude. Get chatting to a Bolivian and you will discover they have an amazing life story. A man at Santa Cruz bus station yarned to me about his days working in the Oruro mines. All the work was done manually for 1000km.
I am left in no doubt that Bolivia is a humanist, socialist nation. Evo Morales won 64.2% of the national vote in the 2009 election, leader of the Movement for Socialism Party. Everyone seems to have a smile on their face, everyone is eager to help with my stilted Spanish. The Aymara native women work incredibly hard for their families, I often see them lugging babies, knitting and groceries up steep hills.
Despite the lack of wealth in this city, every person I have seen is dressed immaculately. Bolivians must be very proud of their appearance. There is a noticeable divide between rich and poor, but every Bolivian I have seen resiliently gets through each day and works damn hard to put food on the table.
Tomorrow we are going to see the Inca ruins of Tiwananuku.
Adios,
Brittany
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