Since last week or so our pack has gained a new member. New in the crew is Pawlie the penguin, or Pauli for those who don't yet know his secret identity. Due to this we decided to extend our trip enough to sip in a bit more sun and adventure. Traveling in a group of three will hopefully cut our expenses food- and taxiwise or else our extension might turn us into street vendors.
The first week of our threesome started of in Lima. Pauli flew in the same day we flew out of Iquitos and after some jet lagged days we finally started doing something with our time: movies, ping-pong and beer with the occasional trip to the nearest mercado for mangos. After six days of hard relaxing we got going and now we are on our way to Ecuador.
Traveling in threes has its disadvantages too, apart from playing defensive (even towards the only other finnish person in our hostel), it's difficult to decide who sits where on the bus when nobody wants to be the third wheel. Pauli didn't appreciate the lonely panorama seat of the bus and rather wanted to sit next to one of us. Niklas didn't want to sit alone either, and since it was my name on the outsider seat I couldn't argue with them. As soon as I settled down a beautiful Peruvian girl took the seat next to me carrying a few week old puppy. At this point Niklas started second guessing his choice to sit next to the pink and peeling Pauli, not that the sunburnman was any happier with his choice: stuck next to Niklas and with only a partial view. My seat was pretty great though. I had the view, the puppy and a place to rest my feet. I even had somebody I know (Niklas) behind me so I could fully recline my chair just to make a point.
Oh what a good time we've had for the few past weeks. The first time we were in Lima was before Iquitos when Niklas' dad was here to work as our mule. Good old days at the Sheraton: five stars, shiny floors, entrance hall bigger than any hostel we've ever stayed at and free pisco! But mingling with the better folk (and handsome Brasilian stewards) could only last so long, it was time for some adventourism so to jungle we flew.
When you get out of the airplane in Iquitos the first thing that hits you is humidity and heat. When you get out from the airport the first thing that gets you is the motokarmen. When you first get out of town you realise why there are so many motokars. In a place with hardly any paved roads and heavy showers it's not hard to imagine why people rather invest in cheap, plus light, motokars instead of some expensive monster that would sink in the mud for eternity.
It can get incredibly hot in Iquitos, so hot in fact that it is better not to dry yourself after having a wash and only wear what is necessary to cover your non-public areas. In the evening this might be a problem with the mosquitos and what not, but jolly well I'll worry about that later. Besides, the good stuff about Iquitos out rules the bad. You can get cuma-cuma juice (über healthy and quite delicious too), travel anywhere on a motokar, bird watch or just listen to the sound orchestra of frogs (birds and little creepers play every night).
Pauli was arriving on the 23rd (jan) so we only had time for a three days, two nights, jungle tour. It started with a hectic hustle to the center of Iquitos: Police were checking licenses and surprisingly it was quite difficult to get a motokar past the check points. Late, we boarded the boat that would take us deeper into the Amazon.
The boat ride was a but softening three hours. There was no place to lay down and the wooden bench was thrillingly painful for my tailbone, but those are the sacrifices you make in order to enjoy some of the slightly outer reaches of this planet. For Niklas it was truly a ride to remember... I won't be forgetting it too soon either. Niklas also got nibbled from his private parts by a fish while having a wash in the river. It was funny.
Our amazon adventure included hiking in the forrest, learning about medicinal plants, camping in the jungle for a night and also a lot of embarrassing moments for human kind. Our guide, although very helpful and professional, had a thing about not leaving anything in peace. We saw an iguana, so he shook the tree until it came falling down like a block of wood. While me and Niklas facepalmed the french-canadian women laughed and looked forward to more nature disturbing. It got worse after that. We saw a sloth in a tree above the river, so the guide made his apprentice climb up the tree and get it. Unfortunately for him, the sloth managed to climb out of reach, so another boy came, climbed another tree and, while jumping from that tree, took hold of the sloth and fell in the water with it. Our protests went unheard and the french-canadians couldn't stop flashing their cameras and touching the scared little thing. From this day on we hoped not to bump into more animals, or middle-aged french-canadians seeking thrills in places they should stay away from.
Yeah, so basically blaablaablaa, getting stuck in floating salad full of spiders, blaablablablaa, camping in hammocks was fun except for the mosquitos, blaablaa.
Anyway, Iquitos and the jungle were great, but now we're in Ecuador. Only have a little time left so from now on no Blogging unless I truly really feel like it. It's not like anyones reading this anyway. Les blaa, better quality, more vacation. The internet is everywhere, so you'll hear from me anyway.
Can't bother correcting this now. Sleep is what I aim for.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Thursday, January 6, 2011
The Atacama ride to craptown and beyond feat. Niklas "third eye" Strangler
Bolivia is a love hate thing and right now I'm loving it.
Driest desert to shittiest town
Day 1:
Our Bolivian experience started out in Chile. From the hundreds of travel agencies in San Pedro de Atacama we choose Tierra Mistica to take us on a three day trip through the worlds driest desert. Our driver, Obed, was a thirty something Boliviano, a native Quechua speaker who let us take our time at each stop and who would explain to us and answer our questions in clear castellano, a nice change from the cryptic spanish called chileno.
The first day took us from 2400m to somewhere close to 5000m. On the way we had the chance to swim in thermal pools, talk to a group of ten finnish people traveling through south america in a matter of weeks (crazy finns) and see the most ungeyshirelike geyshires. These things resembled bubbling hot buckets of thick paint that smelt like rotten eggs. Nothing quite like the high bursts of water that I'd expected, but a nice surprise no matter what.
Our first day ended at a red lagoon filled with flamingos. I found the large grass munching balls of wool, going by the name llama, more interesting. There was one special llama that amused me quite a bit. I believe that individual thought that it was a flamingo rather than a llama - a very old, mentally handicapped and hungry flamingo. "Good fish everybodyy! :B"
Day 2:
The next morning was rough. We hadn't quite stuck to the rules of altitude. The night before we walked around llama watching, ate like crazy and drank wine, one thing you should not do when getting used to altitude. The cold night didn't help much with having a good nights sleep either, nor did my bladder shouting gogogo! It was too cold to go, so at 6am I finally got the courage to go and sooner then I knew it was time to head of again.
The second day consisted mostly of lagoons, flamingos, colourful but very dry volcanic landscapes and weird shapes of rock. We also visited a quinoa museum, perhaps the high point of the day. Not that the museum was too interesting, but in a town of perhaps 200 inhabitants, if that, you can imagine the joy on the faces of the town folk when their museum got visitors. Visitor number 27 and 28 left with a full belly and load of information about quinoa and with an even bigger load of quinoa products and leaflets about quinoa.
Our second day ended at a salt hotel on the edge of the uyuni salt flat. The hotel used to be located on the flat, but since the sewerage system basically just pumped all the shit under the salt, later somebody figured out it might not be too good for conservation and the hotels got moved to the edge of the flats. Still one hotel exists on the flats but nowadays all the shit gets pumped into a couple of large smelly metal containers.
Day 3:
Third day we woke up at 4am. For the Powernapper this was a struggle, reminding me of all those early summer mornings going to work. It was worth it though, big time, since the sunrise on the salt flats was something truly amazing. One minute you had red clouds and in a matter of seconds a great ball of orange kreeped up the horizon and coloured the whole white flat into a flaring orange. It was a magical moment, something that Niklas "third eye" Strangler wanted to catch on his Nikon D5000.
Later we continued to Inkahuasi or something like that. The island was in fact a volcano full of fossiles from the time that the flats were still a lake rather than a huge cake of salt. The scenery from the island reminded me of a frozen lake, or a white sea missing water and waves, and that's what it basically was, a humongous empty lake or inland sea of which only salt and fossiles were left. Sitting there, on the top of the island it finally felt like winter, but with a funny twist of high cactai and strange fauna & flora.
From that mystical island we continued to roam the flats. To drive from one side to another would, at furthest, be a drive from Helsinki to Tampere. And we drove quite a bit. At one point we stopped to fish for some salt crystals, mineral formations, from holes in the flat. These were two meter deep holes in the salt filled with the saltiest water I've come accross. Niklas the brave was the first to try due to owning the longest limbs in our group.
Our group formed of an Austrian couple and a French couple. All in their mid or late twenties, we were the youngest and strangest of the bunch, we weren't a part of the clique. Niklas proved his talents in fishing and got some oohs and aahs from the group. Obed was eager to find a crystal resembling a pyramid. Meanwhile Niklas got in a fist fight with ten armed banditos who were trying to steal his crystals to sell them on the black market. He showed them who's the king, but unfortunately the knifes sliced ugly cuts on his hand. Just ask to see the scars.
After some funny pictures, playing with optical illusions, we headed towards Uyuni. The sight of Uyuni was miserable: The weather had just turned to grey and stormy, the doomsday feeling was in the air as we drove through fields of garbage. Every living plant and bush was covered in plastic bags and surrounded by dozens of plastic bottles, dirty nappies and other crap. The town itself looked more like a building project than a tourist town from the outside and I was glad that the driver took us past town towards the final stop, the graveyard of trains.
Old rusty and crumbling steam trains that were once used to transport minerals from the mines to where ever wanted. There, in the middle of a storm and lines of rusty trains covered in graffiti and garbage (also feeling a big pressure to pee), I thought it to be a cold welcome to Bolivia. Where was my warm beach now, and most importantly the toilet?
Stuck and altitude struck
Uyuni wasn't much better from the center. Slowest internet ever caused me to have a facebook rage attack. Bad thing I swear in English, my outbreak wasn't so stealth causing giggles from the other gringos around us. Pizzeria Minuteman and Vilperi Viherpeukalo, Niklas' new best friend (green bag of coca leaves for making altitude sickness reducing tea or just for chewing as such) helped us through quite a bit, not to menture that they had all seasons of The Wire on dvd.
Our stop in Uyuni turned to being trapped in the town. We had not changed enough bolivianos, bolivian pesos, before entering Bolivia. The towns only ATM was constantly telling "I'm being serviced, I'll be back in a few minutes". Only minutes lasted for an hour. Not only was the ATM out of order, the bus company took none of our cards so we could't buy tickets out. After changing all our pesos from chile, we still had too little, just enough to eat. We weren't the only ones stuck. Outside the ATM there was a line of anxious travelers waiting for the ATM to get serviced. The first in line had a train to catch in an hour, the only train to leave in five days. It was 5.30pm when things started happening. We waited in excitement as the cash making machine started making noises, soon a man came out of the bank bearing keys and some credit card. He then opened the glass door, stepped inside and made his magic happen. Afterwards he smiled at us as we all took our posts in line with dollars in our eyes. The first couple entered: Card in, choose language, credit card, withdraw, xxxx bolivianos, transaction denied. Fuuuudge! As the girl fell hopeless the guy had a go, this time his Maestro. And so the money machine made money. The couple broke into cheers and hugged each other with smiles so wide their lips could have cracked. When they left they wished us luck and turned to take a picture of our desperate but hopeful faces.
The next evening we took a bus to La Paz. Another story all together with its free beer hostel of pod racer, overpriced christmas dinners and backyard bathtubs. The Witches Market was the place of splurge for alpaca wool products and souvenirs and the internet cafe's owner had a son in love with super mario. We had a bonfire on Christmas Eve, also the birthday of one guy working at the hostel. Viktor was turning 53 and got so drunk he wanted to keep the fire burning with anything wooden around. He then passed out in front of the first floor toilet, laying there in an x-position, until dawn. He had quite a laugh the day after.
Happy Christmas and a sunny New Years
La Paz was good for many things, but christmas in La Paz didn't cover it on the food frontiers. Tiers in our eyes we dreamed of our grandmothers' christmas cookings. All those delicious boxes, stews, fish, mushroom salads and whatnot. Mmmm... Deliciousness.
On the 27th it was time to leave La Paz and head to Lake Titicaca. Leaving turned out to be hectic since it was only 20 minutes to departure and our laundry still hadn't arrived. They were supposed to be ready at 11am, but it wasn't until about a quarter to two that the guy finally walked in with our clean clothes. We snatched our bag from his hand without too much apologies and stuffed it in the backpack, we then speedwalked up the hill towards the station with 20kg of weight at an altitude of 3800m. Just imagine the pain. When we arrived at the terminal, we found out the bus was half an hour late. Our "direct" bus ended up taking five hours rather than the promised three. It drove through the dodgiest neighbourhoods looking for customers going to "Co-co-copacabana!" or close.
We arrived around 7pm. My directions for our hostel weren't good enough for the taxi driver and he had to ask other locals for help in finding this hostel in a town of perhaps four streets. Numerous people had directed us to another hostel that was not the one we were looking for, but obviously in a location known to man, finally we found the right one. When we arrived we found out the hostel was full for the night and had to stay a night in the hotel next to it. Niklas was telling me to catch a flight home from Lima, that's how happy he was for listening to my advise about "this one cool hostel" and other stories.
To cheer up we tried to go over the top in the restaurant and got drunk with smoked trout and pisco sour. Happy for the night, dawn came quickly and the happiness ran away with the rain. We had to stand in the rain with our backpacks. Nobody at the hostel was answering. The previous night we had ended up booking the hostel for three nights, every night in a different room due to other reservations. Cold and wet we gave up, left our stuff at the hotel and went to eat breakfast. It was pouring with rain and the quinoa soup didn't cheer Niklas up with its tastelesness. After dinner we got back to the hotel for attempt number two with the hostel. This time they answered.
The moment we walked into our room changed our mood completely. I thought 13 euros per night was pricey, but when seeing the room, that was actually like a mini appartment, well, "muy bueno" - I thought.
Our room has two floors, each floor with one wall made of glass. The view is of the lake and there's a livingroom and a kitchen downstairs and a bed on the top. Our bathroom is more like a hidden temple than a room for potty action and we have a fireplace. On our frontyard we have hammocks and a table facing the lake, on the lower garden theres a hot tub. Best part: you can look to the lake while hanging in the inside hammock.
An hour later the sun came out and now life in Bolivia ain't that bad.
Looking forward for New Years on Isla del Sol.
Driest desert to shittiest town
Day 1:
Our Bolivian experience started out in Chile. From the hundreds of travel agencies in San Pedro de Atacama we choose Tierra Mistica to take us on a three day trip through the worlds driest desert. Our driver, Obed, was a thirty something Boliviano, a native Quechua speaker who let us take our time at each stop and who would explain to us and answer our questions in clear castellano, a nice change from the cryptic spanish called chileno.
The first day took us from 2400m to somewhere close to 5000m. On the way we had the chance to swim in thermal pools, talk to a group of ten finnish people traveling through south america in a matter of weeks (crazy finns) and see the most ungeyshirelike geyshires. These things resembled bubbling hot buckets of thick paint that smelt like rotten eggs. Nothing quite like the high bursts of water that I'd expected, but a nice surprise no matter what.
Our first day ended at a red lagoon filled with flamingos. I found the large grass munching balls of wool, going by the name llama, more interesting. There was one special llama that amused me quite a bit. I believe that individual thought that it was a flamingo rather than a llama - a very old, mentally handicapped and hungry flamingo. "Good fish everybodyy! :B"
Day 2:
The next morning was rough. We hadn't quite stuck to the rules of altitude. The night before we walked around llama watching, ate like crazy and drank wine, one thing you should not do when getting used to altitude. The cold night didn't help much with having a good nights sleep either, nor did my bladder shouting gogogo! It was too cold to go, so at 6am I finally got the courage to go and sooner then I knew it was time to head of again.
The second day consisted mostly of lagoons, flamingos, colourful but very dry volcanic landscapes and weird shapes of rock. We also visited a quinoa museum, perhaps the high point of the day. Not that the museum was too interesting, but in a town of perhaps 200 inhabitants, if that, you can imagine the joy on the faces of the town folk when their museum got visitors. Visitor number 27 and 28 left with a full belly and load of information about quinoa and with an even bigger load of quinoa products and leaflets about quinoa.
Our second day ended at a salt hotel on the edge of the uyuni salt flat. The hotel used to be located on the flat, but since the sewerage system basically just pumped all the shit under the salt, later somebody figured out it might not be too good for conservation and the hotels got moved to the edge of the flats. Still one hotel exists on the flats but nowadays all the shit gets pumped into a couple of large smelly metal containers.
Day 3:
Third day we woke up at 4am. For the Powernapper this was a struggle, reminding me of all those early summer mornings going to work. It was worth it though, big time, since the sunrise on the salt flats was something truly amazing. One minute you had red clouds and in a matter of seconds a great ball of orange kreeped up the horizon and coloured the whole white flat into a flaring orange. It was a magical moment, something that Niklas "third eye" Strangler wanted to catch on his Nikon D5000.
Later we continued to Inkahuasi or something like that. The island was in fact a volcano full of fossiles from the time that the flats were still a lake rather than a huge cake of salt. The scenery from the island reminded me of a frozen lake, or a white sea missing water and waves, and that's what it basically was, a humongous empty lake or inland sea of which only salt and fossiles were left. Sitting there, on the top of the island it finally felt like winter, but with a funny twist of high cactai and strange fauna & flora.
From that mystical island we continued to roam the flats. To drive from one side to another would, at furthest, be a drive from Helsinki to Tampere. And we drove quite a bit. At one point we stopped to fish for some salt crystals, mineral formations, from holes in the flat. These were two meter deep holes in the salt filled with the saltiest water I've come accross. Niklas the brave was the first to try due to owning the longest limbs in our group.
Our group formed of an Austrian couple and a French couple. All in their mid or late twenties, we were the youngest and strangest of the bunch, we weren't a part of the clique. Niklas proved his talents in fishing and got some oohs and aahs from the group. Obed was eager to find a crystal resembling a pyramid. Meanwhile Niklas got in a fist fight with ten armed banditos who were trying to steal his crystals to sell them on the black market. He showed them who's the king, but unfortunately the knifes sliced ugly cuts on his hand. Just ask to see the scars.
After some funny pictures, playing with optical illusions, we headed towards Uyuni. The sight of Uyuni was miserable: The weather had just turned to grey and stormy, the doomsday feeling was in the air as we drove through fields of garbage. Every living plant and bush was covered in plastic bags and surrounded by dozens of plastic bottles, dirty nappies and other crap. The town itself looked more like a building project than a tourist town from the outside and I was glad that the driver took us past town towards the final stop, the graveyard of trains.
Old rusty and crumbling steam trains that were once used to transport minerals from the mines to where ever wanted. There, in the middle of a storm and lines of rusty trains covered in graffiti and garbage (also feeling a big pressure to pee), I thought it to be a cold welcome to Bolivia. Where was my warm beach now, and most importantly the toilet?
Stuck and altitude struck
Uyuni wasn't much better from the center. Slowest internet ever caused me to have a facebook rage attack. Bad thing I swear in English, my outbreak wasn't so stealth causing giggles from the other gringos around us. Pizzeria Minuteman and Vilperi Viherpeukalo, Niklas' new best friend (green bag of coca leaves for making altitude sickness reducing tea or just for chewing as such) helped us through quite a bit, not to menture that they had all seasons of The Wire on dvd.
Our stop in Uyuni turned to being trapped in the town. We had not changed enough bolivianos, bolivian pesos, before entering Bolivia. The towns only ATM was constantly telling "I'm being serviced, I'll be back in a few minutes". Only minutes lasted for an hour. Not only was the ATM out of order, the bus company took none of our cards so we could't buy tickets out. After changing all our pesos from chile, we still had too little, just enough to eat. We weren't the only ones stuck. Outside the ATM there was a line of anxious travelers waiting for the ATM to get serviced. The first in line had a train to catch in an hour, the only train to leave in five days. It was 5.30pm when things started happening. We waited in excitement as the cash making machine started making noises, soon a man came out of the bank bearing keys and some credit card. He then opened the glass door, stepped inside and made his magic happen. Afterwards he smiled at us as we all took our posts in line with dollars in our eyes. The first couple entered: Card in, choose language, credit card, withdraw, xxxx bolivianos, transaction denied. Fuuuudge! As the girl fell hopeless the guy had a go, this time his Maestro. And so the money machine made money. The couple broke into cheers and hugged each other with smiles so wide their lips could have cracked. When they left they wished us luck and turned to take a picture of our desperate but hopeful faces.
The next evening we took a bus to La Paz. Another story all together with its free beer hostel of pod racer, overpriced christmas dinners and backyard bathtubs. The Witches Market was the place of splurge for alpaca wool products and souvenirs and the internet cafe's owner had a son in love with super mario. We had a bonfire on Christmas Eve, also the birthday of one guy working at the hostel. Viktor was turning 53 and got so drunk he wanted to keep the fire burning with anything wooden around. He then passed out in front of the first floor toilet, laying there in an x-position, until dawn. He had quite a laugh the day after.
Happy Christmas and a sunny New Years
La Paz was good for many things, but christmas in La Paz didn't cover it on the food frontiers. Tiers in our eyes we dreamed of our grandmothers' christmas cookings. All those delicious boxes, stews, fish, mushroom salads and whatnot. Mmmm... Deliciousness.
On the 27th it was time to leave La Paz and head to Lake Titicaca. Leaving turned out to be hectic since it was only 20 minutes to departure and our laundry still hadn't arrived. They were supposed to be ready at 11am, but it wasn't until about a quarter to two that the guy finally walked in with our clean clothes. We snatched our bag from his hand without too much apologies and stuffed it in the backpack, we then speedwalked up the hill towards the station with 20kg of weight at an altitude of 3800m. Just imagine the pain. When we arrived at the terminal, we found out the bus was half an hour late. Our "direct" bus ended up taking five hours rather than the promised three. It drove through the dodgiest neighbourhoods looking for customers going to "Co-co-copacabana!" or close.
We arrived around 7pm. My directions for our hostel weren't good enough for the taxi driver and he had to ask other locals for help in finding this hostel in a town of perhaps four streets. Numerous people had directed us to another hostel that was not the one we were looking for, but obviously in a location known to man, finally we found the right one. When we arrived we found out the hostel was full for the night and had to stay a night in the hotel next to it. Niklas was telling me to catch a flight home from Lima, that's how happy he was for listening to my advise about "this one cool hostel" and other stories.
To cheer up we tried to go over the top in the restaurant and got drunk with smoked trout and pisco sour. Happy for the night, dawn came quickly and the happiness ran away with the rain. We had to stand in the rain with our backpacks. Nobody at the hostel was answering. The previous night we had ended up booking the hostel for three nights, every night in a different room due to other reservations. Cold and wet we gave up, left our stuff at the hotel and went to eat breakfast. It was pouring with rain and the quinoa soup didn't cheer Niklas up with its tastelesness. After dinner we got back to the hotel for attempt number two with the hostel. This time they answered.
The moment we walked into our room changed our mood completely. I thought 13 euros per night was pricey, but when seeing the room, that was actually like a mini appartment, well, "muy bueno" - I thought.
Our room has two floors, each floor with one wall made of glass. The view is of the lake and there's a livingroom and a kitchen downstairs and a bed on the top. Our bathroom is more like a hidden temple than a room for potty action and we have a fireplace. On our frontyard we have hammocks and a table facing the lake, on the lower garden theres a hot tub. Best part: you can look to the lake while hanging in the inside hammock.
An hour later the sun came out and now life in Bolivia ain't that bad.
Looking forward for New Years on Isla del Sol.
Location:Cusco, Peru
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Halfway is just a polite way of saying nearing the end
Halfway on the way away
We are halfway now, a grueling fact that gives me a stomach flinch when I think about it. How will we have enough time for our ever extending plans? Yes, we've seen lots but now I want more, we both do.
The truth is this only still feels like the beginning, we have yet to explore the more indigenous and unruling corners and landscapes of this continent, those without the patios and malls, sparkling skyscrapers and polished sidewalks. I want to see how the other part lives, how they build and what they listen to.
Before I was still a bit unsure about Peru and Bolivia, since more bad than good news had reached my ears. But time has gone by, birds sung a positive song, curiosity rised enough to almost (but not quite) kill the cat and finally my guts have reached a very sizeable state. I am pumped up now and I really want to get to it and experience the alternative. Safety and common sense aplied all times anyway yes blaablaa, moving on. I'm just getting tired of the common and I wan't to get closer to what this place is about.
(In reality I just want to buy a rainforrest worth of unimaginably comfortable and scruffy wollen shirts and ship them home to wait for my uninevitable return to Deepfrostia. I wont even bother going to the post office, since our mule has flights booked to Lima in January.)
My favourite word is awesome
The problem in having an awesome time almost every day is that the return to the so called normal, aka. responsibilities and lack of money, feels like doomsday. Nope, no fancy words there. Just doomsday. Repeat: Doomsday. However the day of doom is not the only problem with uncontrollable awesomenes, the more serious issue is in fact the more is more -effect. You meet people, people are cool, they tell you about cool places, you want to go, you meet more people, people are cool, tell you about more places, more places you want to go. And at the same time your appetite grows, you become sick of being in the safe spots, the resorts and postcard atractions, you want smaller, warmer and more relaxed; higher, wilder and untouched. So you do the inca trail.
Maybe I'm being a bit too pessimistic. So far we have gained so many memories in a time that feels like a lifetime if I really think about it. One legged wavejumping under the stars in the warm blue waters of Pernambucos white sand beaches feels like something I saw in a movie rather than what I was doing a few months ago. Curling up in the warmth of an old rustic fireplace while drinking mate in a small tranquil valley surrounded by snowcapped mountains ain't a bad memory either.
Keepers can also be creepers
And then there are the untold stories, the resents that are already the past but still so fresh in my mind they feel like the present.
Santiago, city that's only shitty in a way that Buenos Aires also is but still, unlike the Argentinian capital, doesn't boast with a misleading name. Not being able to see the surrounding mountains from under the vail of exhaust only drove us to see the insides and breathe the air of Bellavistas numerous bars. And later other hostels too, if you're Niklas.
Santiago also presented me with an experience hat had me longing for vegetarism. No more completos, and never will I ever step in to a KFC.
The air was mais bueno in Valparaiso. Unfortunately the place is slightly larger now than during the good old days when fighting in the company. So running around the steep and insanely steep slopes didn't go too easy, nor could we find a helicopter, what a bummer. Points for the graffiti though.
Well, thats a rough sketch of our comings and goings and returnings and goings again. I could mention our shuffling back and forth between Santiago and a paradise beyond, but that place I'd rather just keep to my self. Lets just say there's life after Natura.
Staying sane
Well, it's almost christmas now. We hope to spend it at Titicaca, but probably don't have enough time to get there. Too many interesting things tend to pop up on the way, delaying our "plans", but it's certainly not a bad thing.
Its nice to approach christmas in a relaxed attitude: no stress about spending money on presents and going crazy looking for something boring, unimaginative and specific. All I wan't for christmas this year is to have a grand time, nothing else.
(It's a shame that having a grand time also sometimes requires money, but as I am a thankfull and just person, I'll let the dude on the hill decide how a grand time I'll be having and be happy with what ever little help I get with that very grand of a time.)
We are halfway now, a grueling fact that gives me a stomach flinch when I think about it. How will we have enough time for our ever extending plans? Yes, we've seen lots but now I want more, we both do.
The truth is this only still feels like the beginning, we have yet to explore the more indigenous and unruling corners and landscapes of this continent, those without the patios and malls, sparkling skyscrapers and polished sidewalks. I want to see how the other part lives, how they build and what they listen to.
Before I was still a bit unsure about Peru and Bolivia, since more bad than good news had reached my ears. But time has gone by, birds sung a positive song, curiosity rised enough to almost (but not quite) kill the cat and finally my guts have reached a very sizeable state. I am pumped up now and I really want to get to it and experience the alternative. Safety and common sense aplied all times anyway yes blaablaa, moving on. I'm just getting tired of the common and I wan't to get closer to what this place is about.
(In reality I just want to buy a rainforrest worth of unimaginably comfortable and scruffy wollen shirts and ship them home to wait for my uninevitable return to Deepfrostia. I wont even bother going to the post office, since our mule has flights booked to Lima in January.)
My favourite word is awesome
The problem in having an awesome time almost every day is that the return to the so called normal, aka. responsibilities and lack of money, feels like doomsday. Nope, no fancy words there. Just doomsday. Repeat: Doomsday. However the day of doom is not the only problem with uncontrollable awesomenes, the more serious issue is in fact the more is more -effect. You meet people, people are cool, they tell you about cool places, you want to go, you meet more people, people are cool, tell you about more places, more places you want to go. And at the same time your appetite grows, you become sick of being in the safe spots, the resorts and postcard atractions, you want smaller, warmer and more relaxed; higher, wilder and untouched. So you do the inca trail.
Maybe I'm being a bit too pessimistic. So far we have gained so many memories in a time that feels like a lifetime if I really think about it. One legged wavejumping under the stars in the warm blue waters of Pernambucos white sand beaches feels like something I saw in a movie rather than what I was doing a few months ago. Curling up in the warmth of an old rustic fireplace while drinking mate in a small tranquil valley surrounded by snowcapped mountains ain't a bad memory either.
Keepers can also be creepers
And then there are the untold stories, the resents that are already the past but still so fresh in my mind they feel like the present.
Santiago, city that's only shitty in a way that Buenos Aires also is but still, unlike the Argentinian capital, doesn't boast with a misleading name. Not being able to see the surrounding mountains from under the vail of exhaust only drove us to see the insides and breathe the air of Bellavistas numerous bars. And later other hostels too, if you're Niklas.
Santiago also presented me with an experience hat had me longing for vegetarism. No more completos, and never will I ever step in to a KFC.
The air was mais bueno in Valparaiso. Unfortunately the place is slightly larger now than during the good old days when fighting in the company. So running around the steep and insanely steep slopes didn't go too easy, nor could we find a helicopter, what a bummer. Points for the graffiti though.
Well, thats a rough sketch of our comings and goings and returnings and goings again. I could mention our shuffling back and forth between Santiago and a paradise beyond, but that place I'd rather just keep to my self. Lets just say there's life after Natura.
Staying sane
Well, it's almost christmas now. We hope to spend it at Titicaca, but probably don't have enough time to get there. Too many interesting things tend to pop up on the way, delaying our "plans", but it's certainly not a bad thing.
Its nice to approach christmas in a relaxed attitude: no stress about spending money on presents and going crazy looking for something boring, unimaginative and specific. All I wan't for christmas this year is to have a grand time, nothing else.
(It's a shame that having a grand time also sometimes requires money, but as I am a thankfull and just person, I'll let the dude on the hill decide how a grand time I'll be having and be happy with what ever little help I get with that very grand of a time.)
Location:Santiago de Chile
Sunday, November 28, 2010
A tribute to the awesome powers of tectonic plates
I'd like to take some time now to write about the Andes. It will probably end up taking quite a while since all the wine and barbecue from last night has left me in a state of slight brain paralysis and malfunctioning hand-eye coordination. My stomach is also at war against everything trying to sneak in for rescue.
But the Andes! They have turned my love for mountains into an obsession. There is no way I could go on with my life without coming back here one day to explore the wonders of the southern Andes. I must, some day, visit Patagonia, hopefully on a bike via the pan american highway, those interested are welcome to join, but expect stopping at every single quirky rock formation and also be ready to go to awesome lenghts to reach the perfect viewpoints of awe.
What is so special about the Andes then? Thats something I'll try my hardest to explain, but there's really no way to explain the beauty of something unimaginable in words, since words are only hints and when put together will form a picture totally distorted to the unseen eye. So to know for real you should visit, and visit you should.
These so called mountains are not really mountains but giant teeth of rock sticking up from the flat and arid deserts around it. Rather than growing gradually from highlands and hills, they just kind of go up like crubling skyscrapers of wicked heights, or like a sloppy row of dominoes that have been standing there for an eternity, some still standing, resisting to fall, yet crumbling under their own weight.
Naturally, the ride from Mendoza to Santiago left my neck numb from trying to take a peak of the peaks of mountains literally leaning towards the snaking road, I also dislocated my jaw when turning here and there trying to eat in all the colours of rock and sand with a somewhat dumbfound expression on my face. It's amazing, the colours and the rough forms that are all there to see for your eyes. This is due to the fact that the mountains dont actually get much rain where there could otherwise be vegetation so nothing is hiding these masterpieces of green, red, white, blue and every other mineral colour. Vegetation only excists in the gravel that has fallen of to form piles of sand at the roots of these gigantic faces of rock. Not much can grow on the mountains themselves since every face is steeper than the other, so steep in fact that they can't hold snow.
I don't know what I can say. Nature scares the crap out of me now. I got to say young Niklas had it right when he couldn't sleep due to worries conserning the tectonic plates.
But the Andes! They have turned my love for mountains into an obsession. There is no way I could go on with my life without coming back here one day to explore the wonders of the southern Andes. I must, some day, visit Patagonia, hopefully on a bike via the pan american highway, those interested are welcome to join, but expect stopping at every single quirky rock formation and also be ready to go to awesome lenghts to reach the perfect viewpoints of awe.
What is so special about the Andes then? Thats something I'll try my hardest to explain, but there's really no way to explain the beauty of something unimaginable in words, since words are only hints and when put together will form a picture totally distorted to the unseen eye. So to know for real you should visit, and visit you should.
These so called mountains are not really mountains but giant teeth of rock sticking up from the flat and arid deserts around it. Rather than growing gradually from highlands and hills, they just kind of go up like crubling skyscrapers of wicked heights, or like a sloppy row of dominoes that have been standing there for an eternity, some still standing, resisting to fall, yet crumbling under their own weight.
Naturally, the ride from Mendoza to Santiago left my neck numb from trying to take a peak of the peaks of mountains literally leaning towards the snaking road, I also dislocated my jaw when turning here and there trying to eat in all the colours of rock and sand with a somewhat dumbfound expression on my face. It's amazing, the colours and the rough forms that are all there to see for your eyes. This is due to the fact that the mountains dont actually get much rain where there could otherwise be vegetation so nothing is hiding these masterpieces of green, red, white, blue and every other mineral colour. Vegetation only excists in the gravel that has fallen of to form piles of sand at the roots of these gigantic faces of rock. Not much can grow on the mountains themselves since every face is steeper than the other, so steep in fact that they can't hold snow.
I don't know what I can say. Nature scares the crap out of me now. I got to say young Niklas had it right when he couldn't sleep due to worries conserning the tectonic plates.
Location:Santiago, Chile
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Just dance in ghost town you soon to be fossil
Full of gaga
Yesterday we were taking the bus from Mendoza to the ghostly town of San Juan. Next to us on the bus sat a 30 something mama's boy, who had an obvious obsession over Lady Gaga. I respect Lady Gaga for writing her own songs, but not as much to enjoy her lyrics over and over and over again. The guy kept playing Just Dance on his cellphone speaker and also had a very loud conversation with his mother via the same hellish invention.
While he played the song for the fifth time in a row, I was manicly looking for some headphones I got on the plane to give him. Unfortunately I had stuffed them in my backpack that lie out of reach in the luggage compartment, so when the song started playing again I was close to ripping his head of, ramming the phone into his brain and duct taping his head back in its place again. That way he would know the pain of Gaga I was going through.
Needles to say my day hadn't been too good before the busride either.
Out of town
San Juan turned out to be a bit of a bore. It's off season, so we're the only residents in our quiet hostel. Also everything here smells strange. Like kerosene and sewer. We weren't supposed to stop here, we were on our way to San Augustin de valle fertil, but the last bus of the day was full booked and we were forced to spend the night here. The room wasn't too pricy, but the bed kept me awake all night with springs pushing painfully against my skin and bones. By the time the pain had turned into a numb beat the sun was up it was too hot to sleep.
But today we continue to the valley. It only has 4000 inhabitants and that's a good thing since all this riding the bus has been way to stressful and in a place with no people, there's a good chance nobody will be playing Lady Gaga on their cellphone right next to me. But if that were to happen, some new strange dinosaur fossils might appear in Ichigualasto National Park.
Short stories
I'm a lazy person and to be honest this blog busines is a pain in the ass. Literally. Because my ass is broken. So here are some short stories from here and there that I don't feel like writing down into some ''interesting and bewildering reading experience''.
I said I'd write about El Bolson and all that it some point, but I really don't feel like it, so lets just say it was a cool and picturesque place but in a serious need of some Cartman hippie control because of all the ''natural contsruction'' and ''living in peace with the earth'' wanna be intellectual folk. Sure they had some good ideas, but I'm not interested in having a lecture on them, I mean, I went to Kallio.
Oh and we got a ride in a police car in Mendoza. The cop was speeding like hell, honking at families running across the street on a road that had a limit of 40km/h. Also the guy offered us a chance to lie in our police report in order to make the process quicker, but we didn't since we wanted Break Point hostel to get what it deserves.
The manager of Break Point should learn a lesson about how to run a hostel. Sunbathing is not good managing. Helping, or at least caring for, people who got their money stolen from your hostel would be, but i don't think anyone told her that. I mean, she could have at least called the locksmith, who was ''fixing the lock'' of a broken locker in our room during the time the money dissappeared, and even if not blaming him then at least asking him if he had seen anyone else ''fixing a lock'' during that time. But no. She didn't even lift a finger when it happened again the next night to another guy.
But at least we didn't have to do a trek with an about-to-burst gangrenous appendix.
Now my ass hurts, so bye.
Oh, and if you want to go oohmar and aah looking at strange and distorted images of our trip, check out Niklas' way more finnish blog including better grammar: cihkal.blogspot.com
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Just a small town girl
BLAU!
Livin in a lonely world
Tittiidii
She took the midnight train
Shazaam!
going anywheree!
Do you find this post a disappointment?
Were you looking for juicy details about the life and struggles of Tessa Dean?
Here's an interesting fact: You can go llama trekking here in Mendoza. That's cool.
Today is a lazy day. Like yesterday. And the day before.
Lazy is good.
Good is ice cream.
Ice crean is tummyache.
Ice cream is still good.
Especially mint.
With chocolate chips.
Mmmm...
Chocolatechipminticecream.
Gotta have some.
Gonna get some.
No moneyy.
Should go to the ATM.
Don't feel like walking.
But if I had a llama..
Tomorrow we're going llama trekking. Yes. And then we're getting ice cream.
On llamas.
Ice cream.
Creamy ice.
Mint cream with chunks of chocolate turned into an icy dream land of deliciousness.
Tomorrow begin our last 100 days of traveling.
Last 100. Thats like 50 days times two. Or 20 days times five. It's not much.
Eww Finland in the winter.
No deliciousness there.
Just winter coats.
No llamas either.
They would die.
From all the ice cream.
Eww.
Dead llamas.
All icy and lifeless.
Eww.
Finland.
Llama killer.
Destroyer of creatures.
Yeah.
Tomorrow I'll write proper, I promise.
Really.
Not.
Not really.
Maybe.
Probably.
Unless we go llama trekking.
That would be cool.
K bye.
Livin in a lonely world
Tittiidii
She took the midnight train
Shazaam!
going anywheree!
Do you find this post a disappointment?
Were you looking for juicy details about the life and struggles of Tessa Dean?
Here's an interesting fact: You can go llama trekking here in Mendoza. That's cool.
Today is a lazy day. Like yesterday. And the day before.
Lazy is good.
Good is ice cream.
Ice crean is tummyache.
Ice cream is still good.
Especially mint.
With chocolate chips.
Mmmm...
Chocolatechipminticecream.
Gotta have some.
Gonna get some.
No moneyy.
Should go to the ATM.
Don't feel like walking.
But if I had a llama..
Tomorrow we're going llama trekking. Yes. And then we're getting ice cream.
On llamas.
Ice cream.
Creamy ice.
Mint cream with chunks of chocolate turned into an icy dream land of deliciousness.
Tomorrow begin our last 100 days of traveling.
Last 100. Thats like 50 days times two. Or 20 days times five. It's not much.
Eww Finland in the winter.
No deliciousness there.
Just winter coats.
No llamas either.
They would die.
From all the ice cream.
Eww.
Dead llamas.
All icy and lifeless.
Eww.
Finland.
Llama killer.
Destroyer of creatures.
Yeah.
Tomorrow I'll write proper, I promise.
Really.
Not.
Not really.
Maybe.
Probably.
Unless we go llama trekking.
That would be cool.
K bye.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Buenos And Balls
Argentina, argentina... It's not as wacked up as Brazil, but somehow we have experienced far more crooked events here than in Brazil. Brazil didn't take our camerabag, and it gave us fresh new bills straight out of moneyland, not fake ones to whipe your ass with.
Our first night started well with juicy and cheap steaks the size of our heads, but what we didn't know is that when you gain a kilo, you lose at least two, and apparently from your luggage. So off we went to Buenos Aires to search for a replacement camera, bag, lenses and a flash. Due to this and the battery of the iPhone running out, we only have three pictures from the Argentinian side of the falls.
)
Unfortunately we also lost our Brazilian portuguese hand book, so there's no going back into the arms of Brazil and Hostel Natura. At least there we could throw our stuff around and nobody would take it, not from next to our beds.
Like Brazil, Argentina is HUGE so our bussride from Porto de Iguazù to Buenos Aires took about 20h. It was an overnight buss, but I couldn't sleep since the sky was full of stars that I personally can never get enough of. While Niklas snored off in his fully reclined cama suite chair-bed-spaceshuttle, I took my time trying to figure out if there was anything familiar to spot in the glittery sky. The moon perhaps, but even that was upsidedown.
Sooner than we thought, the lights of Buenos Aires redded the sky, stars disappeared into the haze of co2 and other shit shat by the millions after millions of porteños and the time came to pick up our gear and go hunting.
Buenos Aires was a pleasant surprise, another surprise was that the ex-president/current presidents husband had just died, so Buenos Aires was in a state of confusion. What confused the confusion was the census being counted on the day of our arrival, so basicly when we entered the city it was very ghostly and empty, nothing was open and nobody was out, except señora Taxi Driver of course. But luckily our driver didn't distort the calculations too much since me and Niklas filled in like heroes. Now we are finally part of something: the population of Buenos Aires.
But the bueno in Buenos Aires doesn't end in being part of the population, it is the design of the city, the vibe it gives out and the weird way it feels so European but has details that scream Latin America. I loved how street music, even the worst, sounded awesome. The subway ride back from the delicious Vegan take-away went by fast as two random guys displayed their talent of singing and drumming weird objects.
Restaurants are also a bueno. In the land of sweet Pablo the cow it's hard to imagine such a wide range of good vegan and vegetarian restaurants, maybe some people here just understand what makes Pablo so perfecto and have decided they'd rather perfect themselves by eating Pablos food.
We are bound to go back to Buenos Aires in some point, to check out stuff we didn't have time to do on this visit. Halloween threw us out from the city for now, but we'll be back, even if it's just to get our non-fake money back from the deceiving taximan. Thanks for the fake ones though, made a nice origami. (I must say he was a very talented scam artist though, points for that.)
We are now on the way to El Bolson. This time we're traveling in cama, and they don't even offer us water. Our surroundings are a mixture of red dead redemption and mars. Very red, dead, dry and monotone. Roads are a standard straight, cars passing every 10 minutes or so. My question is, how long do we have to go?
... Been in el Bolsón a few days now
:)))
Our first night started well with juicy and cheap steaks the size of our heads, but what we didn't know is that when you gain a kilo, you lose at least two, and apparently from your luggage. So off we went to Buenos Aires to search for a replacement camera, bag, lenses and a flash. Due to this and the battery of the iPhone running out, we only have three pictures from the Argentinian side of the falls.
Unfortunately we also lost our Brazilian portuguese hand book, so there's no going back into the arms of Brazil and Hostel Natura. At least there we could throw our stuff around and nobody would take it, not from next to our beds.
Like Brazil, Argentina is HUGE so our bussride from Porto de Iguazù to Buenos Aires took about 20h. It was an overnight buss, but I couldn't sleep since the sky was full of stars that I personally can never get enough of. While Niklas snored off in his fully reclined cama suite chair-bed-spaceshuttle, I took my time trying to figure out if there was anything familiar to spot in the glittery sky. The moon perhaps, but even that was upsidedown.
Sooner than we thought, the lights of Buenos Aires redded the sky, stars disappeared into the haze of co2 and other shit shat by the millions after millions of porteños and the time came to pick up our gear and go hunting.
Buenos Aires was a pleasant surprise, another surprise was that the ex-president/current presidents husband had just died, so Buenos Aires was in a state of confusion. What confused the confusion was the census being counted on the day of our arrival, so basicly when we entered the city it was very ghostly and empty, nothing was open and nobody was out, except señora Taxi Driver of course. But luckily our driver didn't distort the calculations too much since me and Niklas filled in like heroes. Now we are finally part of something: the population of Buenos Aires.
But the bueno in Buenos Aires doesn't end in being part of the population, it is the design of the city, the vibe it gives out and the weird way it feels so European but has details that scream Latin America. I loved how street music, even the worst, sounded awesome. The subway ride back from the delicious Vegan take-away went by fast as two random guys displayed their talent of singing and drumming weird objects.
Restaurants are also a bueno. In the land of sweet Pablo the cow it's hard to imagine such a wide range of good vegan and vegetarian restaurants, maybe some people here just understand what makes Pablo so perfecto and have decided they'd rather perfect themselves by eating Pablos food.
We are bound to go back to Buenos Aires in some point, to check out stuff we didn't have time to do on this visit. Halloween threw us out from the city for now, but we'll be back, even if it's just to get our non-fake money back from the deceiving taximan. Thanks for the fake ones though, made a nice origami. (I must say he was a very talented scam artist though, points for that.)
We are now on the way to El Bolson. This time we're traveling in cama, and they don't even offer us water. Our surroundings are a mixture of red dead redemption and mars. Very red, dead, dry and monotone. Roads are a standard straight, cars passing every 10 minutes or so. My question is, how long do we have to go?
... Been in el Bolsón a few days now
:)))
Location:El Bolsón, Rio Negro, Argentina
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