tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70177839677243249412024-09-27T19:29:26.572-04:00travelling around the world until the money or our sanity runs outliz and adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12427313876810517912noreply@blogger.comBlogger234125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7017783967724324941.post-62651051720512480482009-12-05T11:24:00.004-05:002010-01-11T11:44:30.269-05:00

Like coins in a phone box these are the days of our lives. As had become our ritual in Cordoba, I started the day by checking my inbox for the arrival of our etickets to Jo’burg. Nada. We were still ticketless and our flight was less than a week away. Once again I hopped on Skype to call South African Airways. Imagine my surprise when the call was answered after just five minutes of the

liz and adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12427313876810517912noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7017783967724324941.post-26418369917025581682009-12-02T09:52:00.004-05:002010-01-20T01:36:02.346-05:00

There was still no sign of our etickets in my email. But rather than phone South African Airways again, I decided to take a break. It was time for a trip out of town, something we hadn’t done in a while. The phone call to SAA could wait until tomorrow.Cordoba was an old Jesuit town, even older than the missions we’d visited in Bolivia. And many of those old Jesuit missions still existed in town

liz and adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12427313876810517912noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7017783967724324941.post-49002996125329147862009-12-01T08:01:00.000-05:002010-01-11T09:35:13.874-05:00

My stomach still wasn’t feeling great but it was definitely better – perhaps Adrian’s cure worked. However I still didn’t feel up for going to far and decided to make use of this imposed break to take care of all this business, starting with our airline tickets. Argentina was nice but it was starting to lose its charm the more we thought about Africa.Today started much like yesterday. I woke up

liz and adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12427313876810517912noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7017783967724324941.post-13389371895694784752009-11-30T11:15:00.003-05:002010-01-07T11:23:56.589-05:00

the only photo for this post cuz it's another sickness and bitchiness one.As we’ve been traveling, Adrian and I have practiced something we like to call travel karma. When we can help out a fellow traveler we do, even if we have to go a little out of our way. Our hope has been that we’ll build up some good travel karma so that when we need some luck or a miracle, we’ll get the help we need. Of

liz and adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12427313876810517912noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7017783967724324941.post-66078757342184413392009-11-27T13:34:00.002-05:002009-12-17T13:49:37.183-05:00

I think most people traveling around the world have a list of most see things or must do activities. Iguazu Falls was one of those things for me. They are a wonder of the world, one of world’s biggest waterfalls. And since it had been raining we had heard that the falls were at full force. So for the first time in ages, I was genuinely excited about our sightseeing – complete with butterflies in

liz and adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12427313876810517912noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7017783967724324941.post-78827407816455274382009-11-26T13:15:00.001-05:002009-12-13T15:03:47.174-05:00

Hasta pronto Buenos Aires. We’ll be back in a week or two but today we were headed to Iguazu or at least to the bus station. We were going to take the bus but when Mintaut heard that she gave us another one of her helpful tips. The subway station just two blocks away had a train that went directly to Retiro. That information saved us schlepping our big bags on a crowded city bus and also from

liz and adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12427313876810517912noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7017783967724324941.post-37084977617943672812009-11-24T16:56:00.003-05:002009-12-07T17:12:10.733-05:00

I don’t know whether it was because we were at the tail end of our time in Latin America or because this was our second visit to BsAs but this morning I didn’t feel like doing much. It didn’t help that the air was heavy with humidity and the forecast called for rain. We puttered around the hostel. In our lethargy we decided that we’d head straight to the last big thing we wanted to do in South

liz and adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12427313876810517912noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7017783967724324941.post-82478183094602986772009-11-23T16:44:00.003-05:002009-12-05T16:57:43.495-05:00

Buenos Aires is called the Paris of South America. Contrary to some people this is not because of the dog poop that litters the street. No rather, some 100 years ago, the city council was inspired by Napoleon III’s redoing of Paris and when I say inspired I mean they totally copied him and not just the layout of the streets but the architecture as well. This copying the French thing was also

liz and adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12427313876810517912noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7017783967724324941.post-7446026935383641502009-11-22T12:42:00.004-05:002009-11-25T13:03:14.957-05:00

It’s fitting that football matches are played on a Sunday because in most parts of the world they are a religion and nowhere more so than Bs.As. The team around here is Boca Jr. where Diego “hand of God” Maradona played as well as many of the players that have made Argentina a World Cup contender. For the past 8 months I had been denying Adrian the opportunity to see a football game, telling him

liz and adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12427313876810517912noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7017783967724324941.post-52044956476241000082009-11-21T23:56:00.004-05:002009-11-22T22:20:37.911-05:00

After all those all night bus rides and dorm rooms, I was really looking forward to sleeping in. Of course, this mission was thwarted by Adrian’s snoring, the music coming from the bar below last night, the absolutely pouring rain, and finally the not-so-comfy bed at the not-so-comfy hostel. Oh well. Despite all this, it still took us until noon to get up and out of the hostel, partially because

liz and adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12427313876810517912noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7017783967724324941.post-55525671757920450642009-11-20T16:27:00.000-05:002009-11-21T16:43:08.565-05:00

Okay okay so you may have noticed that the blog is over two months behind. Between the crap internet of Bolivia and us now rushing to get through Chile and Argentina without going broke, it's been hard to catch up.But I'm going to try something to fix that. From now on, I'm going to update one old post (continuing) and one new post. This is going to be totally disorienting for a while (like two

liz and adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12427313876810517912noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7017783967724324941.post-50097664823850870342009-11-20T13:47:00.005-05:002009-11-24T11:40:13.576-05:00

a photo from our 2001 visit because we were too tired to do any sightseeing today.Too many night buses in the last month have made us very tired and very cranky. Everyone talks about the luxury of Argentinean buses, Sure the on board food and movies are great (when you get them) compared to say, Guatemala or Belize. But what everyone seems to forget is that they are still buses and unless you

liz and adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12427313876810517912noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7017783967724324941.post-46207382613415632282009-11-19T13:41:00.002-05:002009-11-22T13:47:02.044-05:00

Dealing with airlines is never easy, is it?Today was another official do nothing day. We hadn’t planned it that way. But we were still stinging from the cost of yesterday’s tour, and still tired from all the traveling we’d been doing. So both our bodies and our wallets told us to stop. It was good thing. It allowed us to get down to planning our next phase of traveling. Now that we’ve definitely

liz and adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12427313876810517912noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7017783967724324941.post-25015611841436883892009-10-23T03:51:00.003-04:002010-03-27T03:58:52.560-04:00

GOOD MORNING ADRIAN! I tested the severity of his hangover but was disappointed that he was fine this morning. I guess passing out at 9pm will do that. That meant we could get going because we’d seen everything Mendoza had to offer. Adrian whinged that he wanted to do another wine tour but I ignored him. Why the hurry? Well, despite the discount we’d asked for the hostel was still one of the most

liz and adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12427313876810517912noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7017783967724324941.post-39314760780091283122009-10-22T13:53:00.004-04:002010-03-27T02:32:00.520-04:00

Back in the years I now lovingly call my misspent youth, I used to ride my bike everywhere. To university (when I went), to the club (when I left), around Ottawa, around Toronto. And after dark that often involved riding my bike (with helmet) down side streets with more than a couple of drinks in me. My clubbing days are way behind (by choice) me and so are my cycling days (by bike thievery). But

liz and adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12427313876810517912noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7017783967724324941.post-84340358870400704912009-10-21T06:08:00.006-04:002010-03-27T02:30:10.540-04:00

There’s nothing glamourous about the night bus. Maybe the first time it’s a bit exciting because it’s new. But the excitement is soon replaced by worry about the comfort of the seats and security of your belongings before dread sets in. Just how sore am I going to be in the morning? And in the morning, you will be stiff and covered in a layer of what I call bus slime, a charming mixture of sweat,

liz and adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12427313876810517912noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7017783967724324941.post-30419042364099946822009-10-20T13:36:00.006-04:002010-03-25T04:30:27.745-04:00

sorry no photo of the festivities. but here's a photo from around Salta, appropriate because I was feeling a little penitent the morning after most of my nights in town. What makes a good hostel, good? Sure there are the amenities (wifi, comfy beds, hot water and a clean kitchen) but there are also the people. And oddly enough, the hostels with the most amenities don’t always have the best people

liz and adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12427313876810517912noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7017783967724324941.post-25401625530386175642009-10-18T11:46:00.002-04:002010-03-24T11:56:53.384-04:00

Despite yesterday’s hassle it really was nice to be in Argentina, starting with breakfast. The Inti huasi hostel offered a nice spread of things we hadn’t seen in a while. Coffee, toast, dulce de leche, or course but more exciting, were the corn flakes. I’d never thought I’d get excited by breakfast cereal but that’s what backpacking does – you get excited by simple little things. And we’d just

liz and adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12427313876810517912noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7017783967724324941.post-13296937350201133982009-10-17T07:46:00.009-04:002010-03-24T10:34:25.250-04:00

because my battery was dead no photos this one is courtesy of flickr user Emi ♫ and used under CC license with much thanksIf you’ve been reading along (first I should say thank you, and second apologise for the huge lag between posts), you know I hate border crossings. It’s not the bureaucracy but the touts and scams that drive me nuts. Ever since the horrible crossing between Ecuador and Peru

liz and adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12427313876810517912noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7017783967724324941.post-39571665639036913002009-10-16T04:42:00.002-04:002010-03-21T05:19:35.167-04:00

The alarms went off at 4:30am. There was no shower but there was a good breakfast with eggs. Well, that’s Adrian’s definition of a good breakfast not mine. I hate eggs and these tasted really eggy but compared to the instant coffee and bread from yesterday it was an improvement. It was still pitch black when we loaded our gear back on the roof of the jeep and then raced across the salt flats

liz and adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12427313876810517912noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7017783967724324941.post-89790874609936881072009-10-15T09:44:00.004-04:002010-03-20T10:13:30.404-04:00

As the sun rose, I wiggled my toes, then my fingers. They were fully functional no hypothermia and frostbite for me. Actually, for all that drama I was surprisingly warm and toasty unlike Adrian who had accidentally kicked off his blankets in the night and woke up with his teeth chattering. And unlike our driver who I saw sleeping in the back of the frost-covered jeep when I slipped out to use

liz and adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12427313876810517912noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7017783967724324941.post-34687045535840933252009-10-14T08:45:00.003-04:002010-03-27T03:59:52.218-04:00

It was a rough start to our tour when we woke up to no hot water and no breakfast in the hostel. Since we could see our breath we skipped the cold water shower and pulled out some cookies to tide us over until we got the breakfast the tour company had promised us. And looked forward to the hot water shower we’d get tonight. We didn’t let it get to us probably because we were getting out of San

liz and adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12427313876810517912noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7017783967724324941.post-36547034514248975732009-10-13T08:30:00.004-04:002010-02-16T08:47:08.644-05:00

Tonight we were off on the night bus to San Pedro de Atacama so it was time to put our affairs in order. Not because we feared for our life or anything so melodramatic but because San Pedro was a small town on the border with Bolivia and where we hoped to join a Salt Flat Tour back into Bolivia. That meant we might not have internet for quite a few days. The hotel here in Iquique supposedly had

liz and adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12427313876810517912noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7017783967724324941.post-68787124416434230422009-10-11T06:24:00.004-04:002010-02-16T08:47:31.043-05:00

“What day is it?”“Do you mean the date or the day?”“Either, I guess.”“I don’t know. Does it matter?”“Not really, I guess.”Adrian and I must have had this exact conversation about 100 times in the last 7 months. I’m not sure when we lost track of the day or at least the day of the week, but I know it happened relatively quickly. Although we’ve discovered that we have a knack for trying to visit

liz and adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12427313876810517912noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7017783967724324941.post-77068415337771923732009-10-10T05:31:00.003-04:002010-02-16T06:24:01.403-05:00

I felt rather bad waking up. No, not ill, just a bad conscience. I felt responsible for that Bastien and Anita had followed us to Iquique because on first impression it wasn’t anything special. After breakfast at the hotel (the one good thing about the place), we walked to the beach. The stretch the furthest away from the town was nice and there were lots of families and surfers already out. But

liz and adrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12427313876810517912noreply@blogger.com0