A travel diary from Mexico, Central & South America

Lima - the last stop

2010-08-03T11:28:00.000+01:00

I felt a sense of sadness upon arriving in Lima, the capital of Peru. This would be the final Latin American stop of our trip. Eight months of travelling had almost come to an end. The flights home had been booked months ago, but only now was the realisation starting to sink in.

However, it was as if Lima had realised my sadness and decided to cheer me up a little. Our hotel, based on the outskirts of Miraflores, didn't have a great deal going for it but it was opposite one of the stations of a new bus route straight into the centre of Lima, called the Metropolitana. And in no hurry to recoup any costs, they hadn't even started charging people to use it yet. So we hopped on. How very kind of them.

While Miraflores is the up-market, clean and trendy part of Lima, where you will find all the western goodies, the best hotels and theatres, you shouldn't pass up on an opportunity to see the historic centre. It has the upper hand on architecture with the main Plaza del Armas particularly vast and stunning. We walked through it and took a moment to consult our map. Within seconds, two members of Lima's Tourist Police came over to see if we needed any help. They spoke English, provided us with some sightseeing tips and warned us to watch out for any would-be criminals lurking about. It is one of the most striking things about my experiences travelling in this part of the world. They value their tourists very highly. Perhaps our trip has coincided with an increase in prosperity or a new effort to stamp out crime in city centers. Whichever, it certainly makes you feel a little more comfortable to roam the streets.

We had earmarked Lima as the place to do some last-minute market shopping to pick up some gifts. It was by no means an easy task. The bulk of the shopping had been done in Arequipa, where I had had the same feeling when looking around stalls and shops; would anyone actually appreciate this stuff? There are a certain type of folk who love nick-naks and ornaments and, well, anything as long as it has come from a far and distant land. I do not know many of these people. My family, much like I, do not have a fondness for Inca figurines or miniature llamas to collect dust on the mantelpiece. So, it had to be items of clothing instead. And warm items at that. Everything is made from thick and soft materials like Alpaca. So. they would have to serve as presents for the upcoming British winter in, erm, six months time!

We did take a break from the trauma of market shopping to visit the San Francisco Convent and its catacombs. Here a guide took us around the church, showed us the paintings and then guided us through the underground vaults that contain skulls and bones from as many as 70,000 people. Creepy, but amazing. The second part of the tour enabled us to see the famous library. Standing at one end of the room you can see hundreds of books dating back hundreds of years. A bit odd, but they had roof-lights letting in loads of air and natural light. Apparently stable environmental conditions are not needed to keep the books from crumbling away.

Back in Miraflores for the evening, we indulged in some heavy eating at a North American-style bar and grill which left us barely capable of walking. The area down by the sea-front is a large complex built into the side of the cliffs, and is a perfect place to watch the sunset over a cocktail - or a huge steak in our case! It is a slice of modern living that I suspect only the top end of society in Peru could afford, and it seems a million miles away from the mountain villages we visited just weeks before. But nonetheless it made for a fantastic final evening on the South American continent.

Owing to what I can only assume is past experience, the general consensus is that tourists should take a cab to the airport. Not only that, but a recognised and registered one. And if you do just pick one from the street, memorise its number in case you get into bother. The trouble is that a cab to the airport costs about $25 to $30 USD, and it's really not all that far. Our hotel wanted about $40USD to shuttle us there. No, we'd rather run the gauntlet instead. What's wrong with little drama to end the travels anyway?

You can get to the airport for far less by taking a collectivo (minivan/bus thing) that follows a certain route and gets you to within a few blocks. So this is what we did. Bright and early on a Sunday morning we waited on a street corner with our back-packs until the right numbered van came along. It would cost all of about a dollar between us doing it this way. I had a rough idea of which direction the airport was in, but not long after making a left turn here and right turn there, I had no idea where we were. The van continued to drop off people and pick-up new ones as we headed out of one district and into another. It wasn't long before I started to play out nasty scenarios in my head. For each person we picked up I made a two second character evaluation in my head. Was this going to be the guy who would hold up the van and make off with everything we own? What would I do in such a scenario? I couldn't get mugged on the very last morning now could I? My only comforting thought was that it was Sunday morning and I'm quite sure that criminals like a lie-in!

An hour passed and we were still none the wiser about when we would reach our destination. Things would be a bit touch and go if we didn't get there soon. Suddenly the van stopped at a junction and we were told this was our stop. We got out and learned that the airport was left and about four blocks on. Seeing that we were about to undertake this journey on foot, a local man stepped in and offered that we share a taxi with him, as he was going that way. I made a snap judgement that this guy was in fact friendly and genuinely concerned for our well-being. Eight months travelling sharpens the senses but I made sure I had the penknife to hand. Not a clever strategy to fall back on, I know!

We took a cab with him and found that the four blocks were very long and very, well, dodgy. The local man had feared for our safety and rightly so. The taxi driver charged us a little too much for this five minute journey, but we had made it to the airport in one piece and with all our belongings, toy llamas and all!

Flight of the Condors - Canyon del Colca

2010-06-14T16:17:00.000+01:00

Not only is Arequipa the most tranquil and pretty places in Peru, it is also close to a canyon more than twice as deep as the famous Grand Canyon in the United States, called Colca Canyon. That statistic alone makes you want to take a look. Coupled with this chance to see some natural wonder is the chance to do a bit of bird watching while you're there. There is an area called Cruz del Condor high up overlooking the canyon, a spot where condors like to hang out and where you can hang out to watch them.

Wanting to save some cash we decided against one of the many tours from Arequipa. Instead, we took a bus to Cabanaconde, a small town within the Colca national park. The idea was to head to this town, stay over and then get up early to go see the condors, a short journey away. Seems reasonable enough, but we hadn't really considered how much time we would spend on an uncomfortable bus. The bus to Cabanaconde from Arequipa took a long long time. A good seven hours I believe, which was more than the five the tourist office reckoned and more like the eight our guide book approximated.

The bus makes a stop at a town called Chivay and this is where you are asked to pay thirty-five Soles to enter the national park. I felt a bit wary of this. Not only because it is very expensive (a double room for the night would cost twenty), but another traveller had told us that park rangers try to get you to pay this when you're attempting to get a snap of a condor and that you don't really have to pay it. I also found the manner in which this tax was being enforced a little distasteful. There was no official ticket office. A woman simply stepped on the bus and looked to single out the white faces. Once she saw us, she came straight up the aisle and asked us to pay. Had she passed by any other folk on the bus up for a bit of tourism? Who knows. They all looked suitably Peruvian, but how can one operate a policy based on crude appearances? I immediately wished I'd dressed as an old indigenous woman. It would have been easy, just some face paint and copious layers of patterned material would have done the trick!

Maybe I overreacted when I challenged this setup. I don't mind paying my way, and hopefully, if it goes to the right people, it is a good thing for a relatively poor community. I just didn't like the way it was done, nor the disproportionate cost. We did eventually hand over the cash as the bus wasn't going anywhere until we'd paid.

By the time we entered the canyon area it was dark and we couldn't see anything out of the windows. Once we eventually pulled in to Cabanaconde all there was to do was to get a room for the night and eat something hot, as again we found ourselves in a cold place.

The next morning it was one big fight to get on the 6.30 am bus that would drop us at Cruz del Condor in time to see the birds in flight. Not only were there many a tourist doing the same thing, there was also a dozen local women wanting to get there too, so that they could set up their souvenir stalls. There was a fair amount of pushing and shoving but by ten past seven the very full bus started the fifty-minute journey to Cruz del Condor.

Once at the look-out, we were soon accosted by rangers, but were able to produce our tickets bought the day before. We found a good spot and waited. It was cold, and only a few intermittent breaks in the cloud allowed us the comfort of some early morning sun. After three quarters of an hour or so we spotted the first condor. It circled the vast area between the canyon walls and gave everyone a good view of its impressive wing span. Soon, three or four more appeared and made everyone feel the early start had been worth it. I took advantage of the continuous shoot mode on my camera as well as the telescopic lens and captured a good few hundred photos. That would be great fun to edit later!

We got what we came for, so technically it was a successful trip. However, I was still left wondering if it had been worth it. Perhaps if I was more into bird watching there would be no question. But take a look at the photo below - not exactly the most attractive creatures you're ever likely to see. I felt glad that we had gone to see the canyon, but most of that was done through a dirty bus window. We had to make the long ride back to Arequipa in time for our Lima-bound bus that evening, so there was no time to hang around.

Arequipa and kebabs!

2010-06-10T17:19:00.000+01:00

Back in Peru after a speedy and efficient journey north through Chile, we headed to our last 'new' destination of the journey. Our sojourn in Chile felt like sheer comfort and the small taster of the country left me wanting to return - albeit with a slightly healthier bank balance! Even the overnight bus from San Pedro de Atacama to Arica was enjoyable. It was clean, comfortable and they had someone behaving like an air steward, getting everyone blankets and pillows on request. All very civilised.

So, onto this last 'new' destination, Arequipa. Well, this place certainly had much to live up to. We had missed out on a trip there the first time round, instead opting to stop by on our way back to Lima. In that time we had met many people who sang the praises of the city and everyone said what a lovely time they had had there.

I'm glad to say that they were all right. Arequipa is probably my favourite city in Peru. You could argue that Cusco has the better architecture or the two, but Arequipa isn't plagued by quite so many tourists. It feels like a city in its own right and not quite so obsessed by the gringo dollar. (Don't get me wrong. I'm not one of these people who hates tourists and yet is one, it's just that Cusco can be a bit much with all the hassle you inevitably attract).

There were two things in Arequipa that almost became an addiction - kebabs and cakes. One Turkish restaurant we tried served the best kebabs I've ever had. They could be classed as very fancy sandwiches rather than kebabs and perhaps you'd find something a bit different in Istanbul, but I couldn't eat enough of them. Any weight I'd lost over the previous seven months I think I put back on in two days!

Then there was the cakes. I fear that my healthy appetite for carrot cake, plus my being over thirty and not under, could spell danger up ahead. My metabolism could stall at any moment! One thing is for sure. If you like cake, you're in good company in Peru, and most of South America for that matter. As we sat in a particular cafe enjoying a slice there was a constant stream of people coming in to pick up huge, specially ordered cakes in boxes. And there must have been a dozen cake shops on the same street all doing a good trade.

But that's enough of my ramblings on food. A good way to burn off some calories is a walk around the Santa Catalina convent, not far from the main plaza. Covering an area of 29,426 square meters, it is a city within a city and a thoroughly fascinating place to be. It is the second time I have been in a large convent - the last being in Cuenca, Ecuador - and I find it striking how cut off you can feel from a city that is only the other side of a wall. From within Santa Catalina you wouldn't know that there was a bustling metropolis on the outside at all. I guess that was the idea when they built it back in the sixteenth century. Now that the nuns have dwindled in numbers and only live in a small part of the grounds, it allows tourists to experience the tranquility of the place.

Being a nun is obviously a tremendous commitment, and visiting a convent brings home just how big that commitment is. The entrance fee permits you to walk into most of the buildings within the grounds and see where the nuns cooked, ate, worked and slept. I won't delve into the merits and faults of religion, but I could not help feeling how much of life was missed by the women who lived there and, no matter how tranquil the surroundings, it seemed very sad.

One thing that I know I will miss about Latin America is the plazas. The spaniards, who were obviously big fans of a large central square, really went to town in Arequipa - although giving it the unoriginal title of Plaza de Armas. One side of the plaza is occupied by the beautiful Basilica Cathedral and the other three are made up by two levels of elegant arched walkways, all made of sillar stone. As standard there is a fountain in the middle, surrounded by gardens... and one too many pigeons! The main square is what gives Arequipa the edge over other cities in Peru. Oh, and the kebabs!

San Pedro de Atacama - a brief visit to Chile

2010-06-08T22:59:00.000+01:00

Our salt flat tour concluded with a comfortable mini-van ride across the border in to Chile. From the seat behind, a booming voice with a Canadian accent excitedly announced the arrival of asphalt. His proclamation was met with a muted response from the passengers, which was understandable. Through one tour group or other we had all spent two and a half days crammed in the back of Land Cruisers traveling over rough terrain, but we knew what he meant. By the looks of things, Chile was going to be somewhat different than Bolivia.

The Bolivian border control had been a hut in the middle of nowhere. The Chilean one was on the edge of a town called San Pedro de Atacama, was equipped with three times the staff and a huge bag scanner - handy for catching out people carrying Earl Grey tea bags or olive oil, for example. Yes, Chile are very particular about what is brought in, unlike their South American neighbours.

San Pedro de Atacama didn't look all that impressive at first sight. It was lovely and warm in the bright sunshine, but everything looked rather brown. The streets are unpaved and dusty, and all the buildings look the same. But you can forgive these things given that the town has been built in the middle of a desert. On closer inspection it became clear that the place is actually pretty sophisticated. The streets are lined with tour operators and restaurants and places that provide Internet. It is a tourist town but it had something we hadn't encountered for a long time... cuisine. There was no place on set menu's for fried chicken, fried banana and a ton of rice. No, here the restaurants served up lamb cutlets, grilled salmon or seafood risotto for example, all elegantly presented.

All this sophistication comes at a cost however. There is a significant financial shock in arriving in Chile from Bolivia, but at least you are left with a feeling that you're getting something for your money.

We may have just come from the amazingly diverse treasures of the nearby Bolivian salt flats, but Chile has some wonders of its own to offer. Near San Pedro de Atacama, the Valle de la Luna is where you can visit mountainous sand dunes and rock formations that are said to resemble the surface of the moon. Perhaps it wasn't quite the right shade for the moon, but it was a wonderfully unique landscape to see and, with with the sun setting, it looked more like Mars.

The Bolivian Salt Flats - Part 2

2010-05-26T16:00:00.000+01:00

Day two started with a half past six breakfast, which oddly consisted of tea and stodgy cake, then back on the road by seven, leaving the salt flat and salt hotel behind us. We headed for the Bolivian desert and there were plenty of miles to cover so we stopped at the next village along for some supplies - in the form of more beer. Drinking a few cans while travelling in the 4x4 was an inspired idea. I was glad to see our driver didn't partake despite Brice offering!

Ah, yes. It's about time I introduced our splendid group. Let's see, we had Brice, who I just mentioned. He was always on-hand with the bottle of red wine whenever we ate (good man), lives in Brittany and smokes far too much for someone of just twenty-three years. Then, his friend Pierre, the same age and also from Brittany. He has spent time in Ecuador practicing Osteopathy. He speaks great Spanish and was very much the joker of the group. Next we had Florianne, 25, from Marseilles who is an animator by profession and was on hand with the candles when the electricity ran out. And last but not least her friend Cecilia, 21, also an animator back in France and who was cheerful and generally a pleasure to be around. There.

It was our turn to be in the back of the jeep. It was indeed lacking in legroom, however, despite the many miles we travelled on day two, we frequently stopped to admire views and take photos and stretch our legs. This day would mainly be about visiting a series of lakes. And on some of the lakes we got the rare chance of seeing flamingos! At one such lake we stopped and while Elias, our driver prepared lunch, we photographed the pink-coloured birds and the magnificent reflection of the mountains in the background.

Lunch, by the way, was delicious. I wasn't expecting much, it being served out of the back of the jeep in the middle of nowhere. But we had bread-crumbed chicken, potatoes, rice and salad. And, of course, wine!

With another day of sightseeing drawing to a close it was time to head for our second accommodation for the trip. Set around a lake, this hospedaje wasn't made of salt but was on par in terms of facilities. It was basic, as expected. But again, it did have electricity so we weren't in the dark after sundown. But what proved challenging was the temperature. It is difficult to tell exactly how cold it is. Having spent a fair part of our travelling days in hot places, I suspected I had become a little sensitive to a bit of cold. Or soft, you could say! And up at around 4000m the wind can really get to your bones. However, we were informed that it was very close to zero degrees celsius and by nightfall temperatures would reach a chilling minus sixteen! The thing here is that we did not have any form of heating. I'm pretty sure I've never felt as cold as I did that night. After playing poker and struggling to hold the playing cards wearing gloves, we called it a night and went to bury ourselves in sleeping bags and blankets before a five in the morning wake up call. Yeah, that was going to be a joy!

It was indeed a painful experience to get up at such an early hour and in such cold. Our guide popped his head in and informed us he was loading the car. I'm sure he hadn't slept without heating. The evening before I'd seen the next house along with smoke bellowing from its chimney giving me visions of all the guides curled up around a big fire like dogs.

Day three of our trip would be short but sweet. In the dark we drove along until we reached an area full of geysers. With the sun just coming up we had a good old nose around the dozens of holes with hot gases rushing up from them. It was amazing. Pretty smelly though. You could only endure the stench of rotten eggs for so long!

From here it was on to the thermal pool, and breakfast. When we pulled up the pool had many a white-skinned human in it already. The air temperature was still very very low, but most had braved it, stripped off and jumped in the warm water. All very well, but getting out again would be a tough task. Pierre and Bryce talked for a while and decided to go for it. Sophie and Floriane stayed in the car with a cup of tea and I copied Cecilia and dipped my feet in the pool, as a half measure. In my defense my towel was packed away amongst the bags on top of the jeep.

After breakfast we headed for the last stop, Laguna Verde - the lifeless lake laden with arsenic. If you catch it at the right time it is green, as its name suggests. This day it only had a slight tinge of green, but still a magnificent sight. From here it was onwards to the Chilean border where we would go our separate ways, the French heading back to Uyuni and us into Chile.

The cold temperatures was definitely the main challenge of the trip, not to mention second having to converse in Spanish with our new friends - all good practice. But, as I write from the comfort of my warm hotel room back in civilisation, I am so glad we chose to take the three day trip. The salt flats were out of this world, but the Bolivian desert, with its mountains, geysers and lakes were equally as impressive.

The Bolivian Salt Flats - Part 1

2010-05-25T06:48:00.001+01:00

We set off mid-morning, once our Land Cruiser had been loaded up with luggage, fuel, food, plus the four French people that would make up our group. A standard three day tour will take six people and they manage to fill the cars, no doubt by tempting lone travellers with rock bottom prices at the last minute. I'd say there is something to be said for standing on the street at five to eleven looking disinterested. Its bound to get you a great bargain!

Anyway, six people plus driver is just about comfortable in the Toyota 4x4 - though the two in the back have limited leg space. But, as all the tours offer the same transport, it is obvious that these machines are the best for the job. Not long had we been travelling out of town had the bumpy terrain started. But it provided no test for these vehicles. It was almost as smooth as a Rolls Royce on new tarmac.

First stop, a train graveyard - quite a spectacular sight, just on the outskirts of Uyuni. The British built railway had once been used to transport minerals from the nearby mountains and transport them to Chile and the coastal ports. However, since depletion of mineral reserves in the 1940's, the trains were abandoned producing an eery train cemetery - and something for us to climb all over and take pictures. Glad I'd had my tetanus booster! Rumour has it that a proper museum is planned for the site, but for now you're invited to climb aboard and pretend you're a train driver from the late nineteenth century!

Next, the reason we came. The Salar. It is nothing short of incredible. The flat white surface of salt stretches out as far as the eye can see and the contrast between that and the brilliant blue Bolivian sky makes it something really special and unique. I doubt there is anything on earth quite like it. Of course, it presented the opportunity to have some fun creating odd perspectives with the camera.

Soon after having messed around posing with some 'huge' cans of beer, it was lunch. Our guide set out an impressive array of food, and the French cracked open a bottle of red. It was good fare and fantastic surroundings - although four of our group would have been happier to finish the meal with some strong cheeses.

The Salt Flat isn't all, well... flat. There is an island to see, formerly the top of a submerged volcano back when the salt flat was a prehistoric lake. The island, called Isla de Pescado apparently because of its likeness to a fish from a distance, has some large cactuses growing on it. But for me the thing to do was to climb up on top of the island and get some more views of the flats. Like others around me, I couldn't stop taking photos. Thank goodness for digital.

Day one was almost over. Not a particularly strenuous one, I know. But it was a welcome change to be driven around and not be expected to hike for three hours or climb up to a mountain summit. Plus the French (don't worry, I'll get around to introducing them) had a supply of beer and every so often one would be passed around the car as we sped over the crusty white salt surface. Realising we'd missed a trick, we stocked up ourselves whilst stopping at a small village.

As the sun started to set and the last dregs of Pacena were being swallowed, we pulled up at a little community of houses on the edge of the plain. Our home for the night was to be made of salt. Yes, that's right, there is so much salt in these parts, they build hotels from the stuff. And its no shoddy job either. These blocks have been professionally cut and look just like they are made from stone. Only on close inspection can you see the shimmering crystals.

We were told that of the two nights on the trip, the stay at the salt hotel would be the more luxury of the two. OK, they had a shower (which was actually out of service on this occasion) but it was hard to see how much more basic a hotel stay could be. I suppose electricity could be classed as a luxury. But after dinner and a few games of cards, one by one the lights went out and the water was turned off. Thankfully our French pals had brought along head lamps and candles. Well done them! We would have really struggled otherwise.

To be continued...

Bolivia's second 'Death Road'?

2010-05-24T03:37:00.001+01:00

I couldn't tell you exactly how many miles we have travelled since arriving in Mexico city last October. But I'm fairly sure that I can now tell you where the most difficult of those miles occurred. After spending time in the plush and serene surroundings of Tarija, the bus ride north towards Uyuni served as a reminder that Bolivia is amongst the poorest of the countries we've visited.

To get to Uyuni from Tarija requires taking an overnight bus journey to Tupiza and then a further seven or so hours on a bus from there. I no longer find it hard to psyche myself up for these journeys. You soon know what mindset you need to be in to avoid the frustrations of stops in the middle of the night, winding roads, crying children and drivers who want to emulate Ayrton Senna. What works for me is having plenty of battery on the mp3 player, your own supply of loo roll, a sleeping bag and a bottle of water. Then, sit back and see what happens. Who knows, you might fall asleep!

Well, none of that was going to make a difference this time. After settling in on a battered, grubby bus with broken seats that stayed reclined, we pulled out of Tarija. The lights went out at all of half past eight and the bus turned off the main road and onto a dirt track. The road to Tupiza is all stoney track and no tarmac.

To say that the track was bumpy is an understatement. Right from the off we were thrown all about the place and frequently my body left the seat several inches and then crashed back down again. Hardly the best environment to catch some sleep. This was to be the state of things until we arrived in Tupiza in the morning. The road is said to be a fairly dodgy one too and perhaps it was better that the dark prevented the sight of any sheer drops.

At half past ten we made a stop in a town I'll call World's End, or Termina El Mundo if you like. It was cold, dark, the wind was blowing a gale (containing lots of dust) and there were just a couple of buildings around, one a restaurant. Some got off for a meal. We only wanted to use the facilities as in Bolivia they don't provide toilets on buses. The trouble is, they're also not concerned with stopping somewhere with a toilet. The restaurant owner claimed not to have any toilets and told us to go outside. Nice.

After a further six hours of being thrown around inside a bus, we arrived in Tupiza. Second to a lack of hygiene, Bolivia does not synchronize its buses. It was five in the morning and the onward bus to Uyuni was scheduled to leave at ten o'clock. What else to do in the cold and dark than to unroll the sleeping bag and curl up on a bench. See, I told you it was part of the essential kit list!

After sunrise we discovered that Tupiza didn't offer anything by way of places to grab a bit of breakfast, so we gate-crashed a hostel and got them to feed us some bread and a cup of tea.

The next leg of the journey was very long and very cramped and involved a stop at Atocha, a mining town surrounded by desert and mountains. This surely is about as rural as it gets in Bolivia. Again there was a harsh wind blowing dust around and anything that wasn't nailed down. It was an interesting place to see but unfortunately none of the restaurants or market stalls had any food to sell. I think it's the first time I've encountered a place that has turned away a bus-load of travellers. Surely a bus stops here every day about the same time. Perhaps the thing to do would be to get some food on the go?

As a rule, an overnight bus will get in early and a day bus will get in late. We reached Uyuni by around six o'clock tired and in need of a shower. Uyuni is a basic town that is full of tour agencies but it has many restaurants plus a few stylish pubs. The trick is staying warm. I'm not sure if a lack of sleep will generally make you feel the cold more, but I wore as many layers as I could and went about getting myself a bowl of soup to huddle over!

The roads to Uyuni are never going to compete with the Death Road near La Paz, but perhaps it is a stretch that could be dubbed "Make-you-feel-like-death road"!

Tarija - ahem, and an important football match

2010-05-21T01:16:00.000+01:00

If you're going to be turfed out of a bus somewhere at five o'clock on a cold morning, you could do worse than Tarija. After hanging around the (outdoor) bus station chatting to a fellow Brit, who had a flight to catch from Rio and not much time to get there, we went into town to use up some more hours before we could reasonably turn up at our hotel. Luckily an up-market restaurant opened its doors and let us in for breakfast - it's becoming a familiar story!

However, being in Tarija doesn't feel like being in the rest of Bolivia. It is home to Bolivia's wine region and the wealth created from that shows. But it's not just that. You could quite easily be in Spain. The streets are peaceful and lined with trees, the climate is very Mediterranean and of course there is the architecture. When the Tarija department won independence from Spain in 1817, it declared itself an independent country before later joining Bolivia, and it feels like the latter never happened.

I discovered another reason that Tarija is different, and not just from the rest of Bolivia, but perhaps, the rest of Latin America. Our second day there was a Saturday. But not just any Saturday. It was FA Cup Final Saturday and I had a keen interest in the outcome. Up until now, if you wanted to watch football you couldn't help but fall into a place that would be showing the game you wanted. The time difference didn't help, but I was pretty confident that I could pick a bar in town and settle in for ninety minutes - I don't ask for much in life!

But it was not to be as easy as that. The two trendy bars on the main square were, well, a little too trendy. They didn't even have television screens. We went in search of somewhere and followed advice from locals, only to be pointed back to the square where we'd started. Oh well, my luck of catching games had to end sometime. We took one last walk up a side street and happened upon a cafe with a television. I approached the owner and asked if he had cable TV, expecting the answer to be no. But instead, it was a yes! He generously surrendered the remote and I found the channel with just a few minutes to spare. We sat down and enjoyed empanadas for breakfast - oh yeah, and a historic win!

So, the people of Tarija are extremely kind and friendly, although perhaps not that fussed about football. Afterwards the cafe owner suggested a few sights we should see. But first it was off to the zoo to see what they kept there. Impressively they had a good range of animals, including some very sad-looking lions and leopards. But then, do lions ever look that happy behind bars?

Sucre - Bolivia

2010-05-18T00:16:00.000+01:00

Sucre is the most modern place I’ve seen so far in Bolivia. It is Bolivia’s other capital and is home to a considerably slower pace of life than La Paz. This can be just what you need. After all, as much as I enjoyed La Paz and all of its energy, I wouldn’t have wanted to stay there longer than the week that we did. Sucre would be a good place to study, should you want to learn a bit of Spanish for example. We studied in Cuenca, Ecuador and there are many similarities between the two cities. It is also lower than Potosi, which meant it was much warmer, thankfully.

Sucre has a rich history dating back to the Spanish colonies and the architecture from this time remains. It is what makes the city a pleasure in which to stay. Rarely in Latin America does anything as aesthetically pleasing replace lost architecture. The same could be said of many places around the world but it has to be more evident in poorer countries. Luckily here there is still plenty to admire.

I have no adrenaline packed adventures to report this time, however we did take a trip to see some dinosaur footprints. Taking the “Sauro Tours” truck from the city centre (why take a taxi when you can be transported in open vehicle with a dinosaur head stuck to the front – it provides the locals with something to laugh at!) we went to a cretaceous exhibition, on the same site as a concrete plant. You actually have to walk into the concrete plant to gain access to the exhibition, but as we learned, the concrete plant is responsible for the discovery of the footprints themselves.

I expected some big paw prints to be fenced off for us to look at, and maybe even step in. This is Bolivia, after all. In fact, the footprints can be seen from a viewing balcony on a vertical wall opposite. My first thought was how the prints came to be on such vertical face. This was soon explained by our guide, but in Spanish at a ridiculously fast pace. No good. Much too fast for me. I went off to the office and came back with an English-speaking guide. I didn’t want to miss any important dino details!

With anything dinosaur-related, it is mind boggling when considering the time scale involved – millions of years. We’ve been around for the blink of an eye in comparison, yet we think we know the world’s problem. I’m one of those who believes that as soon as we get the “climate change” problem sorted, the next ice age will swiftly be along to finish us off!

So, here’s the theory. 68 millions (or so) years ago, when the Andes didn’t exist and South America was nice and flat, the oceans washed in and created lakes, or more like puddles to dinosaurs. They walked across these and left their footprints behind in the limestone mud. Some went in straight lines. Some in circles (not very clever), and some got halfway across, changed their mind and wandered back the way they’d come. Since then, tectonic plates have moved about and mountains have formed, pushing the once flat land with footprints up through ninety degrees to a vertical plane. As a result they have been covered and preserved by layers of sediment and earth…until recent times.

Somehow, when the cement company were taking layers off of the hill with large JCBs, they found the footprints without spoiling them. The scientists were called in and a limit was put on how much further the hill can be excavated for cement purposes. Unfortunately there are not the resources to protect the prints and it has been deemed too late to prevent them washing away within the next eight years or so. But casts have been taken and you can take a good look at them in the museum.

Taking the dino truck meant we were only granted an hour at the exhibition. I would have liked a little longer and had we known, a taxi may have been the better option. When you stop and think about the existence of dinosaurs on earth, even for five minutes, it gets the brain bubbling away. That makes a trip to see some evidence well worth it in my book!

The Potosi Mines - Bolivia

2010-05-16T20:17:00.000+01:00

When I read one description of the Potosi mines I wasn’t all that keen on visiting. It said they have been described as “the mouth of hell” and that visitors should be aware that a trip down into them is both physically and emotionally draining. However, out of sheer curiosity (Sophie’s, not mine!) we made the long journey south from La Paz. An overnight bus to pretty much any destination in Bolivia will get you in at about 6am. I have thought a lot about why they schedule them like this. Is it because some people are doing a long commute and need to get to where they’re going in time for work? Do the bus companies prefer to avoid the morning rush hour? Surely not, given that the bus terminals are usually on the edge of town. The trouble is, they often run ahead of schedule. The 6am arrival time clearly has some margin in it meaning that you’re likely to rock up at anything from five o’clock in the morning. You’d think a bus getting in early is a good thing. Well, with the kind of temperatures you get in the Bolivian mountain range, it’s not. You arrive to freezing pre-dawn temperatures (at least that’s how it feels) and have nowhere to go because there isn’t a café or a restaurant open.

This was the scenario for Potosi. A taxi driver took us into town on the promise that there would be a café open at seven in the morning. It turned out there wasn’t. He would have said anything to get the fare. The only action in town was a few folks at the market setting up their stalls.

Around eight in the morning the owner of a place called The Koala Café opened its doors and let in two shivering souls with heavy backpacks (us). We ordered some tea and attempted to thaw our bones.
Who should walk in half an hour later but Bart, our one-time fellow student at a Quito language school. He, like us, had also been travelling south. I was relieved to find he had shaken off the advances of my Spanish teacher – not before she had stalked him all the way to Lima!

Bart had things sorted. He had a hostel and had booked himself on a tour of the Potosi mines leaving at 9am, along with an Englishman called Mohammed. Feeling not so fresh after our overnight bus journey, we decided to join them. After all, what would have been the point in going for a shower only to enter a mineshaft half an hour later?

To enter the Potosi mines you need more than overalls, boots and a hard hat. You need gifts for the miners. The mines at Potosi, although no longer rich with silver or tin still contain around 10,000 miners and they fuel themselves on coca leaves and 94% alcohol – called Bolivian whiskey. The only other thing they appreciate being given is dynamite. What better present to give a drugged-up drunk person in a confined space?

Buying alcohol and coca and then dynamite a few doors up was a surreal experience. The dynamite, we were assured, would pose no threat without the fuse and detonator attached. Still, with all three thrown into a plastic bag, I treated it with caution. Off we went to the mines.

Our guide, himself a one-time miner before he saw a better life for himself in tourism, took us in and down into the depths of the earth. It is warm down there. He explained what the smears of blood on the walls were. Not that of unsuspecting tourists, but of unsuspecting llamas (or even more disgusting, llama foetuses) that had been sacrificed and offered to the Tio – their devil-like God, if that makes sense. For the mining world apparently belongs to the devil and in return he will give you up some silver or mineral in return. I think at this point I needed some coca or alcohol to appreciate the symbolism in full.

We came across miners from time to time. They were small people who didn’t say a lot. Being small is definitely an advantage in a mine, as you can imagine. It wasn’t so easy for a 6ft 6 Dutchman called Bart! However, we all made it down a couple of levels (there are nine in total) and survived some frighteningly rickety ladders in the process. Eventually we came to a corridor that even the heavily doped miners in front advised was too dangerous. They were propping up the tunnel with planks of wood and said it was too hazardous for us. We turned around and headed back, not before giving up some of the last of our dynamite.

Before entering the mines I had thoughts of what a terrible job being a miner would be and it seemed almost unbelievable that the UK had a large mining workforce as recent as the 1980s. Coming out of the mines I felt lacking in compassion for the miners. Perhaps that was due to an insight into their mindset – apparently it is an ‘every man for himself’ one where even murder has been covered up as an accident. Three years or so ago, it was also good business, when a new but short-lived seam of tin was found. At this time, miners could be seen driving about town in Hummers, which I would have loved to have seen. With a poorer market for tin and minerals and with the mountain not yielding as much at this time, it is not happy days for the miners. They believe that they will find more the deeper they go. UNESCO believes that the whole thing will literally collapse and is campaigning against the constant hunt for the legendary pot of silver, apparently hidden deep within the bowels of the earth.

We didn’t get to explode any dynamite within the mines. That’s probably for the best. However our guide had kept one stick up his sleeve, which once assembled and lit, we got to play with – it had a long fuse, don’t worry, Mum! He walked twenty feet away, planted it and we waited for the explosion. We waited and waited. They say don’t return to a lit firework and that must be especially so for dynamite. BANG! It was a deafening noise and a vibration of the earth accompanied by a puff of smoke. Yes, that was best done out in the open! Occasionally Latin America dishes up something that you just can’t do in Europe and this tour was definitely one of them!

Frostbite up Huayna Potosi - well, not quite...

2010-05-12T20:12:00.000+01:00

For those that like their mountains lofty, there is a popular one not far from La Paz that you can have a crack at. The prize, if successful, is standing on the summit at a grand total of 6,088m above sea level – that’s getting on for 20,000 ft! Just imagine the views…

The Huayna Potosi trip not only offers the chance to climb such a big beast, but also promises that you don’t have to be a serious climber to do it. The only recommendation (we heard) was that you should get acclimatised to the altitude as much as possible before you attempt it. We signed up, having spent quite some time close to 4,000m.

The next thing to decide is whether to take a two day trip or a three day. The three day includes a day practicing ice-climbing and we were told that it is mainly to get you used to the altitude. You don’t actually put your new-found skill with an ice-pick into practice on the hike. A two-day trip it was. We’re on a budget you know.

Still, the two day-er was to set us back the handsome sum of 1,400 Bolivianos (USD $210). However, once paid, the company was very generous with lending us items of clothing and kit that was not officially included on the tour. Don’t have long-johns? No problem, here’s a pair. Haven’t got a headlamp? Just buy some batteries and we’ll do the rest. It is a good policy. You can’t rely on amateurs not to forget some crucial piece of equipment necessary for an icy cold mountain.

One of the things we were expected to bring was our seventy-odd litre backpacks. The first part of the journey was to walk from Base Camp at 4,700m to Rock Camp at 5,130m carrying all the equipment we’d need; boots, jacket, trousers, harness, crampons, ice-pick etc. My backpack didn’t weigh as much as it usually does, but even so, it was heavy enough given the task ahead.

We made it to Rock Camp in two hours and I felt pretty good. We’d not be carrying backpacks for the next climb, so I felt perhaps the harder part might be done with. Oh, how foolish those thoughts were.

The next stage of proceedings was to eat, then go to bed at sundown, which was about 6.30pm. It isn’t easy to sleep at such an early hour. It isn’t easy to sleep when you know at midnight you’ll be getting up to climb a mountain. (That’s right, midnight!) And it certainly isn’t easy when you’re sharing a room packed with twenty others all sleeping on mattresses, lined up next to each other on the floor. As I tried my hardest to fool myself into actually being tired, the first bout of snoring sounded from across the room. I’m pretty sure it was one of the French guys. I resigned myself to getting none of the precious sleep I might need and spent the next five hours or so staring at the inside of my eyelids.

At midnight we all got up, had some breakfast and squeezed into our boots. I made sure I had another cup of coca tea, as it is supposed to help the difficulties of altitude.

In total there must have been fifty climbers starting out at 1am. Macario, our guide, led Sophie and me to the foot of the glacier, attached our crampons and harnesses and off we went. We were a team of three and the rope between us was a safety measure in case one of us should fall off the mountain.

It was hard work straight from the off. Under the bright stars, of which I’ve never seen so many, we dug our spikes into the snow and snaked up the mountain. Both in front and behind I could see the headlamps of the other groups and the dark outline of the mountain against the sky.

This was to be a marathon not a sprint. Most guides will always say that a slow and steady pace will win in the end, and in my slight coca daze, I was ready for just that. I knew it would be tough, but at the same time knew that I just needed to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Then, in what I believe altered the destiny of our hike, Macario suggested that I should join one of the other groups and leave him and Sophie. He had doubts that Sophie would make the summit. Yes, she had been struggling and her stomach wasn’t keen on the early hour, but whose was? I refused. I’ve watched too many disaster movies to know that you never split up!

We continued on and every so often Macario would make some comment about turning back, or that we had at least another three-quarters of the journey left. This wasn’t the tonic we needed. Everybody must have doubts about reaching the top, but your guide is supposed dispel those doubts and fill you with a ‘can-do’ mentality - aside from safety, that’s what he’s there for. I maintained that we were keeping pace with one of the last groups on the mountain, so we couldn’t be doing too badly.

Then came the sheer ice wall part of the hike. Yep, those ice picks would be needed. We scrambled and hauled ourselves up, digging our spikes in and throwing down the pick to get a good hold of the slope. It was pretty scary stuff. This was, after all, the first time I’d used an ice-pick (apart from cocktail making) and let's not forget this was in the dark.

At 5am, while taking a breather, Macario again raised the question of turning back. By this time our hands and feet were numb with cold and Sophie had not much will left, despite my positive words. We had a choice. Carry on up or turn back and attempt to climb down in the dark. We decided to turn back. 6,088m is a large number, but it's just that, a number.

However, going down the mountain in the dark was no easy task. Much of the walking was manageable, but along came the steep ice wall, and I had to go first. Macario dug a metal spike into the snow and attached our ropes to it. I lowered myself down but all I could see beneath me was a few feet of ice on the slope and then darkness. I had no floor to aim for. I was supposed to be lowering myself onto a small ledge on the side of the mountain, but where was it? It was the most frightening experience of my life. Then I lost purchase on the ice and fell. The rope snapped taut, pulled down Sophie, who was a few feet above, but thankfully it held. I scrambled around for some grip, looked down and saw that I was heading in the direction of a deep crevice. Macario then told me I should be heading left a bit and sure enough, the ledge came into view. I have experienced a kind of paralysis with heights in the past, but such was the intense stress of the situation I kept moving.

That was the only technical part of the climb, but still it would be better to have some technical know-how to deal with it. We continued down and by 7am we were back at Rock Camp, the sun just starting to come up. I don't think I've ever felt as exhausted!

It was gruelling and at times pretty terrifying, but at the same time it was a wonderful experience. Although not the motivator we needed, Macario stopped us from falling off the side of a mountain and I thanked him for it.

For now, I have no desire to see another mountain, let alone climb one, but still I am pleased that we tried it. After all, 5,800m isn’t a bad effort!

Downhill on the Death Road - Bolivia

2010-05-11T22:46:00.000+01:00

"Cycle the Death Road." The very name may make some question the sanity in going on such a tour. For others it will draw them like a moth to a flame. We weren’t quite in the moth category but that was mainly down to the price of the tour. For a day tour, not to mention for Bolivia, a tour on the death road is a little pricey. But then, how can you go to La Paz and not give it a go?

OK, if you’re really not too stable on two wheels then perhaps you should stay in the city and visit some museums. But otherwise you have to do it.

Firstly, some statistics on the road itself. In recent times the road has become almost solely for the use of silly foreigners like us to bomb down, plus the odd coca farmer. But before this it used to be a frequently used road. Here are the statistics (and how it got its name).

- Built in the 1930s by Paraguayan prisoners

- 43 mile road - rocky and mostly downhill

- The road got christened because 200-300 people died a year

- 1983 saw Bolivia's worst road accident when a bus went off the cliff killing 100 people.

Pretty terrible hey? But although these statistics are in the past, the road still lives up to its name and claimed the odd Israeli who took a corner too fast or the Canadian who hit a large rock at speed.

At the start point, some 4,700m above sea level I was terrified. Not for my own safety but for that of the Japanese guy in front of me. The tour starts off with some downhill on good smooth tarmac to get everyone used to their bikes. But within thirty seconds the Japanese guy was wobbling about all over the place and almost came off altogether. He did the same again just a couple of minutes later. We hadn’t even arrived at the rocky Death Road part of the trip. With discipline I stayed behind him keeping the order of our group of four. By overtaking I was concerned he may try to go faster.

With our guide on a bike out in front and a support vehicle behind, we started the death road. Japanese guy seemed to have got used to his bike and maintained a speed he was comfortable with and I became less worried that the road would be claiming another victim.

If the terrifyingly narrow sections of rocky track and the sheer cliff hanging drop do not take your breath away, the stunning scenery will. We would stop every fifteen minutes or so, either for a snack, a long look at a view or for the support vehicle driver to set up a video of us further ahead. Our guide, who was fun and entertaining, would explain the upcoming section and where to show a bit more caution, although he never seemed to alter his speed throughout the entire journey!

If the road is not dangerous enough already, there are parts of it where the side on which you pass oncoming traffic reverses! I thought our guide was joking, but no, because the cliff edge is not on the driver's side, on the narrow sections, vehicles pass on the other side so that the driver can look down to make sure the wheels are kept on the ground. Whatever works best, I guess!

I’m happy to report that all four of us, Japanese guy included, made it down to the bottom unscathed. Our reward was a buffet lunch, a shower and use of a swimming pool. As we had descended to around 1000m, the climate had become sub-tropical. It was warm and there was many a biting insect to greet us. Repellent should have been on the equipment list.

As with most dangerous activities, if you survive them, you finish up with an incredible uplifting feeling that makes you feel all the more alive.

La Paz - Bolivia

2010-05-10T00:09:00.001+01:00

It was an extremely long and eventful journey from Copacabana. The driver informed us that a diversion would be necessary as a little town on the way was blockaded for a demonstration against the local mayor’s landfill policy. There’s no doubt about it, they take their politics seriously out here!

The diversion took us through many desolate areas and on some roads you could hardly call roads. After several U-turns and directions obtained from local farmers we hit a bit of a deadlock. One muddy section of track was now host to the inward and outward flow of traffic from Bolivia's capital, it seemed. I couldn’t get over the lack of communication. It was every man for himself and not even the two truck drivers who appeared to be happy risking a head on crash, if it so happened, seemed capable of a quick gesture indicating who should go first through a puddle!

Further along the journey we thought we had run into another blockade. Unfortunately, it was instead a nasty accident between a truck and a minivan. Instantly you realise you’re in a poor country. There was no ambulance on the scene, nor fire engine. It was obvious that neither were expected for a while as the locals had removed the bodies from the van and laid them on the side of the road, blankets and coats barely covering them. It was a sobering sight. There did not seem to be any survivors. I was surprised we hadn’t seen more horrific accidents on our travels.

La Paz is one busy place. It is a crowded and congested city with a million or so people hemmed in by steep hills - plus there must be as many mini-vans as there are people! It is full to the brim, so much so that its lack of further capacity has led to the expansion of El Alto, a city in itself four hundred meters above, overlooking La Paz.

La Paz is smoggy, the air is thin (especially if you're not well adjusted to the altitude - 3,600m) and you are never far from the smell of urine. But I feel perhaps I shouldn't point that out. There is something very appealing about a city that has such a buzz. There is an air of enthusiasm about the people and they are not afraid to march for their rights! The city is unthreatening too, and although in any big city you need to keep your wits about you, I never felt threatened once.

If I had to name just one feature of La Paz it would be the markets. They are everywhere and on nearly every street. You have to dodge buses and mini-vans as there is no room for walking on the pavements. There are no supermarkets to be seen (although I've heard they have malls out of town) and so I guess people really need all these markets. My experience of them hasn't been wholly satisfying. I've bought two items; yet another pair of sunglasses and some woollen gloves. The former have already snapped and the latter have developed too many holes and loose threads to look like they'll last more than a week. Granted both purchases were cheap, but I did expect them to last more than three days!

Unperturbed by my experience I have tried again. This time I have bought a USB MP3 player for the princely sum of £14. My iPod has finally given up the ghost and I just couldn't face the next bus journey without music or the dulcet tones of Michel Thomas to send me to sleep.

I don't really thrive on markets. I don't like the smell of urine on the streets and I don't like smog. But for some reason I will miss La Paz.

Copacabana - Bolivia

2010-05-03T16:45:00.000+01:00

There is no question about it. Lake Titicaca is much more good-looking on the Bolivian side. We took the three-hour bus ride around the west side of the lake to Copacabana, a town very close to the Peru-Bolivia border. It's a good ride, there are plenty of splendid views, a short stop to get your passports stamped, and you're there. It was such an easy border crossing that for the first time I was tempted to get the camera out and start taking a few snaps. But I thought better of it. It's just not worth drawing attention to yourself. Stay focused on the main goal - get across the line with minimal fuss and without having to part with cash.

In the usual fashion, the bus dropped us off on a main road not far away from Copacabana centre but still far enough out to get you out of breath, what with the heavy backpacks. Its a bit like landing at an airport but the plane won't quite take you to the terminal. I often wonder why they can't drop you off in the centre. Still, Copacabana is pretty small so it's not too much bother.

We walked into the centre and started the search for a place to stay. We took a lead out of the book and went for a place called Hostal Sonia. It was a little bit of a walk from the main street but seemed comfortable enough and when we said we'd have a look at some others first, Sonia lowered her price to seal the deal. You end up doing the best haggling when you're not trying to! The price she lowered to was 40Bs, which is roughly £4, between two. Hello Bolivia! It actually took us a while to realise just how cheap that is, and stop thinking in Peruvian Soles.

No matter how cheap the hostel was, we still needed some money. Copacabana has all the hallmarks of a backpacker town, and yet we learned that there is no cash point. Well, there is a cash point but it is for national transactions only. Luckily, notices were plastered all over it warning against trying to get money out, if you're not a local. So, picture a bustling street lined with touristy bars and restaurants with a few souvenir stalls squeezed in between, and yet no way to access cash for it.

When the bank opened - bizarrely at 2.30 pm - we found that we were not the only ones in this predicament. Here were other tourists who had cancelled day trips or left valuables in hotels and restaurants as a guarantee, all because of a lack of cash. Luckily, it was possible to get cash advances from inside the bank, all being well with your credit card of course, but for a 5% commission. Nice.

Drama over, we booked ourselves on a tour for Isla del Sol for the next day and went and got something to eat.

The trip to Isla del So was an interesting one. All round a very enjoyable experience but at times had me puzzled. Boats take you to the island from the port at Copacabana. These are the slowest boats in the world. Sure, it's nice to take a boat ride and enjoy the sights of the lake, but at 8.30am in the morning when the sun hasn't got high enough to thaw the effects of the cold wind, you just want to get there. It takes about two hours to reach the north side of the island- where you start if you're doing a day tour - when it would take about 30 minutes on something that shifted a little. The boats must hold around fifty people and yet they use one 50hp engine.

On board the boat I struck up a conversation with a Brit, originally from Liverpool. He told me he has been living in India for fifteen years and would not be returning to the UK until "the revolution, brother". What revolution is he hoping for, I wondered. David Cameron's 'Big Society' or Nick Clegg's immigration amnesty, perhaps? Perhaps not. It didn't seem appropriate to ask. Then he muttered something about how terrible Maggie Thatcher is. I felt I should let him know she's no longer running things, but again, it didn't seem appropriate. Instead, I told him we can't afford to wait for the 'revolution' and would be returning in June. He added that he intended to perform ceremonies on Isla del Sol. It seemed a good time to end the conversation. It seems the price of being a "Shaman" means you live in a time warp.

Due to the slowness of the boats, you really don't have that much time on Isla del Sol if on a day trip. We followed the path, took in the nice scenery and got charged every so often by a local sitting on the track. There are three main communities on the island and it seems they each want their share when it comes to backpackers walking from one end of the island to another, through their villages. Fair enough. It's not a lot of money, but perhaps better if you paid just once at the beginning. There are some Inca ruins to see, but how to compare after Machu Picchu? Its like playing with stickle bricks after you've been let loose on Technic Lego. For me, it was more about the walk, the views and good honest exercise at 12,000 ft!

The Uros Islands and Puno

2010-04-29T17:26:00.000+01:00

I feel like we're really motoring now. Back to similar speeds of travel we achieved through Mexico when we'd be moving every one to two days. We've a little over a month left meaning there is no time to laze around. So, after the delights of Cusco and the striped pants brigade, we took a bus to Puno for a taste of Lake Titicaca on the Peruvian side.

The journey to Puno took longer than the six hours owing to a poorly bus. This was a first. I don't know how many miles we've travelled since the start of last October, but this is the first time we've had any bus trouble. Quite I feat I think, considering we've travelled in some pretty dodgy transport - none more so than the old US state school buses which are everywhere in Central America! But they got the bus working again and we limped on to Puno, albeit some two hours late.

Puno is quite unimpressive. Even with the vast Lake Titicaca in view, the town somehow maintains a drab appearance, mostly owing to the hundreds of terrible half built buildings littering the place. But you can't have everything. At least we were free to walk the streets without be accosted by restauranteurs or massage ladies. It is worth climbing to one of the view points high up. Everything looks much better from up there.

From Puno you can take boat trips to any of the three closest islands on Lake Tititcaca. It's the reason most people would venture to Puno. We had planned on a full day trip that would take us to two of the islands: The Uros floating islands and Taquile. However, owing to a terrible night's sleep - which I blame on the altitude (we're at 3,855m, which is higher than La Paz in Bolivia) - we only went for an afternoon trip to The Uros.

Our guide book didn't sound too thrilled about the Uros islands. The people there have constructed their islands from reeds. They use reeds for everything; their houses, their boats and as carpets. They live off the lake by fishing and hunting birds. But, so the book described, these days they have a secondary source of income: tourism. The book went on to say that the islands that you visit by boat are little more than "floating souvenir stalls". Cue the tourist trap alarm bells ringing in my head! But at the very least I was curious. It should be worth seeing the floating islands as you don't see them everyday.

We joined eight or so others and after about half an hour on the boat from the Puno dock, the islands started to come into view. I was reminded of that dreadful Kevin Costner film Waterworld, you know, the 90's big budget flop? This community had created land for themselves way out in the quite serene settings of the lake. There was a central canal and to either side were groups of islands. We stopped at one, got out and were confronted by, you guessed it, souvenir stalls. Luckily the awkward situation was broken by a guy who gathered us around a big map of the lake and started to explain about the islands and the people on them. He described how the islands are made, using the roots of the reeds and ropes and anchors and lastly, lots of cut reeds on top to make a soft floor. I was very glad of this. Not only was it interesting but it meant that it wasn't just us, the souvenir stalls and a bunch of people staring at us waiting for us to part with our Soles. Spend your money foreigners, they would be thinking, What's the matter? Are you too stingy??

Afterwards we were persuaded to take a reed boat to the next island. The onboard entertainment was three young Urovians(?) who gave us a three song performance, in exchange for a donation. The first song in Spanish, the second in Quechua and the third in English. In English we were treated to Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, which when sung, they substituted the word twinkle for the word Gringo. Adorable!

This ten minute reed boat journey set us back five Soles each, which is extortionate given that you could go two hours on a bus for that. The next island was much like the same as the last but it had a restaurant. The Latin American family with us (who were generally lapping up the whole experience) went and had a big meal and as it was about four o'clock and we weren't at all hungry, we just sat and waited until they'd finished. It wasn't as if you could go exploring. The island was small. You'd need to hijack the reed boat.

The Uros experience was everything I had feared it would be. It was really cool to see the islands, plus I do love a boat ride, but the forced tourist trap thing will always make me feel uncomfortable.

Cusco - Peru

2010-04-27T05:02:00.000+01:00

One of the things I like most about Cusco is the road signs prohibiting the use of car horns on certain streets and intersections. I really don't know how the average Peruvian driver copes with that. Imagine a sign in the UK forbidding the British from queuing in a bank or post office. It just goes against our instinct.

Seriously though, Cusco is a very attractive place. It has great architecture and charming little cobbled streets lined by houses with uneven roofs. There is no shortage of restaurants, bars and hostels. There is also no shortage of tourists and people trying to make their living from them. This is called the gringo capital of South America - and thinking about it you may as well include Central America in that, too. Not even in Antigua, Guatemala are there so many white faces. And this is at a time when the nearby site of Machu Picchu isn't back to full capacity. It is the gateway to the Sacred Valley, and given that it is a buzzing, good-looking city, not to mention the former Inca capital, it's going to attract some attention.

Cusco is also home to what I call the plastic backpacker. There are plenty of them with their dreadlocked hair and their stripy check pajama-like trousers, doing their best to give off some 'new age' vibe, man! Where were they in Ecuador or Colombia, hmm? There was a lack of striped PJs in Mexico, too. I'm just kidding really. I've not become a travel snob. Wear those PJs. I bet they're very comfortable.

Anyway, you cannot walk down a street without someone trying to strong-arm you into their restaurant. You cannot move for offers of massages, and on most street corners you'll find a woman dressed in traditional clothing holding a rope to the other end of which a llama is attached. If you feel like paying for an 'authentic' photo, there's your opportunity.

Cusco isn't all that cheap either. It has had enough influence from the tourist dollar to have banished the standard Peruvian price. However, if you're struggling there is always a somewhat heavily disguised McDonald's on the Plaza de Armas, should you be missing their particular brand of dirty burger. We must have been, as we went there... twice... and it was good! Hey, it's not our fault that Cusco couldn't offer a cheap alternative. There was a distinct lack of street food on the go.

Truthfully the odd restaurant did offer an 'economical' set menu from around 10 Soles (ususally 3-5 Soles in the rest of the country) and the good thing about these is that it is not the standard fare. You can choose things such as nachos with guacamole for a starter. It certainly beats soup with a chicken foot floating in it!

We stayed in two places sandwiched between our trip to Machu Picchu. The first had a spider that Sophie expertly removed from our room (see below) and the second, El Arcana, was all round better value, didn't have spiders, and had a good atmosphere - although the roof leaked a little. The picture doesn't do the spider justice. It was bigger than it looks.

The constant hassle on the street and the inflated prices soon become tiring which is why we were ready to move on after a few days. But then with so much to go and see outside of the city, I imagine that's what most people end up doing.

Machu Picchu - Peru

2010-04-25T00:58:00.000+01:00

We stayed the night before in the town of Aguas Calientes. This town was not as I had expected. It's possible that we have yet to visit somewhere that gets such a turnover of tourists everyday, but this place was like an Alpine ski village. And as such, not a cheap place to be. But I felt quite impressed by what Peru has done here. As my last blog explained, this is not an easy place to get to. In fact, I was expecting more of a dusty little town with a couple of overpriced restaurants. Suddenly I felt less sympathetic about the thousands of tourists stuck here a few months back during the floods. Not a bad place to be stuck. Perhaps that's harsh. After all, apparently some hotels did start raising their prices for their captive flood victims - the cheek!

No, there are many overpriced restaurants, but there are also many very nice looking hotels. Oh, to be rich. Nevertheless, our 40 Soles ($13 USD) a night hostel was just fine.

Whichever way you choose to get to Maccu Picchu, there is another little gem of information that you should know. Machu Picchu opens its gates at 6am, and in order to beat the "hundreds of American tourists" who, we'd been told by more than one person, turn up on the bus, we were advised to set off from Aguas Calientes at 4am and make the two hour hike up the mountain to the entrance.

So this is what we did, and again my camera LCD screen saved the day as we'd forgotten our torch. But even with a little light to help us in the pitch black, this was no easy walk. It actually only took us about and hour and a half, but it was constant climbing, the forest was extremely humid and combined with the early start, it didn't make the most enjoyable walk you're ever likely to do. Once at the top, we waited for the gates to open - (while you're waiting, get a ticket stamp for entry to climb Huayna Picchu. It's free but apparently they only dole out so many so it's best to get one as soon as you can).

About ten minutes before the gates opened what did we see but the first bus arriving and a load of sightseers climbing out out looking remarkably fresh. Hang on a second, we could have taken the bus. Little did we know the buses start making the 8km journey up the switchback road from Aguas Calientes at around 5.30am, meaning our hike didn't buy us the advantage we'd been led to believe. How long this has been the set up I'm not sure. Perhaps we should have checked this out for ourselves. Or perhaps a lot of people really like hiking in a dark sweaty forest with nothing to see.

In any case, we were amongst the first to enter the site of Machu Picchu. Six o'clock in the morning is when the place looks at its most mystical. The clouds had just started to break up and the sun was rising behind the mountains. We found ourselves a good spot overlooking the main city and sat in awe at the ever-changing view in front of us. It was spectacular. People arriving from a four day Inca Trail hike would have certainly felt rewarded by this (there's definitely an element of luck with the weather). Like any hike, it makes it all the more special if you have a prize at the end whether it be a crystal blue lake or an ancient city straddled atop a mountain. Either way, if you can get yourself a good spot early in the morning you won't be disappointed - and I would say all the better if you're not hot, sweaty and knackered just getting there!

There were many tour groups being led around, and while I'm sure their guides had some interesting wisdom to impart, I felt quite glad to be left alone to wander at our leisure. Our allotted time for climbing Huayna Picchu was between seven and eight am, so we headed over to get cracking with that. Huayna Picchu is another part of the Inca settlement sitting atop a higher adjacent mountain peak. It takes around an hour to walk up there but from the top the view of Machu Picchu is unparalleled.

After sitting a on top and having a spot of lunch we'd brought in (they say you can't take in bottles of water or food but ignore that), it was time to make our way back down. This is when you really realise that those with vertigo shouldn't be up here. We walked around the peak following signs that led down a different way than we'd come up. Then, the fear gripped me. A set of steep and uneven stone stairs led down the mountain with no hand rail and only part of a stone wall to steady you. And some of these stone steps weren't really steps at all in my opinion - these Incas must have had very small feet. One false step and you'd be falling off the side of a mountain. Of course, it's unhelpful to think of it that way. But that's the difficulty when you're hit by a fear of heights. However, the fear I seem to have developed in recent years is quite a rational one. If there was a hand rail, I'd have been fine. I've had the same feeling skiing in the past, and likewise, it's only a slight lack of confidence in my skiing technique that allows such negative thoughts to creep in!

Slowly but surely, I made it down from the peak and from then on the presence of hand rails put me at ease. I certainly wouldn't like to attempt all that in the rain. Those that have done long hikes to get to Machu Picchu might be put off by yet more climbing and hiking, but, if you can brave the dizzy heights of Huayna Picchu, it's well worth it.

However you want to do it, Machu Picchu is a spectacular sight. At 126 Soles ( $42 USD) entry, it's not cheap, but even though I've been saying it a lot lately, you can't miss it!

Getting to Machu Picchu

2010-04-23T05:13:00.000+01:00

If only I'd had my laptop with me the day we made the journey to Machu Picchu. My head was full of advice received from other travellers and blogs alike, and as the day unfolded, it all turned out to be pretty useless. I wanted to get on the blog straightaway and set the record straight. But it has had to wait until now.

The recent rain hasn't helped with the confusion as to what you do to make it to the most popular site in South America. But the train is up and running, and although not from Cusco, you can still take a two hour bus ride and catch it at Piscacucho. It will then take you straight to Aguas Calientes, for a hefty sum of course.

But what I want to talk about is the backpackers' route. The route where you inevitably end up busting a gut all in the name of saving a few pennies. Not the 'Inca Trail' - which I'm sure is good in its own way, but sharing a path with 1600 other people at any one time didn't appeal to me - I'm talking about the way to get there from Cusco, in a day, using whatever transport you can find.

Firstly there are buses that leave Terminal Santiago in Cusco at around 7am destined for a town called Santa Maria. That caused us no problem. The bus is slow of course and can take anything from 5 to 7 hours to do this leg of the journey. It will set you back 15 Soles. Not bad.

Once at Santa Maria you're in the hands of taxi drivers, for now at least. Your next destination is Santa Teresa, and buses do not go there. Instead you have to do your best to get a good price from the taxi driver. Ours wanted 10 Soles. He then drove like it was a stage in the RAC Rally. Colin McRae would have been proud of this lad. The price for getting a corner wrong though was not a possible collision with a tree trunk or spectator. That would at least give you a chance for survival. No, the price would be considerably higher. Most of the 'stage' was set high on a small shelf of the mountain with drops that must have been at least 500 meters, if not more. There's no coming back from a wrong turn there. But I had faith in our pilot. We needed a co-pilot, but you can't have everything!

So, after our hour and a half long dice with death, we arrived in Santa Teresa. The driver offered to take us further and after a brief discussion with the Spaniard and the French couple sharing the front seat (there had also been various passengers in the boot of this estate car along the way) we agreed to be taken further. Ten or fifteen minutes down the road, we came to a small gathering by the roadside: some other taxi drivers and some people selling food. Here was the end of the road. The driver asked for 15 Soles (seemingly forgetting the 10 we had agreed on) and as he had technically taken us a bit further, we all paid and he pointed out the next leg of our journey.

This next leg is something else altogether. You have to cross the river, the great white rushing waters of the Urubamba river, and the only way to do it is by zip-wire. This is something that you've just got to do. You can't turn around now, although surely there must be people who do. Attached to the zip-wire is a tray, kind of like an oversize tool box tray. You can fit two people on it at a time and once in, you're pushed out across the wide expanse, hoping that the pulleys will hold and that they've tied the other end well! As long as you're not too scared, it's actually an amazing experience.

Once on the other side, you climb down the bank and make your way towards Aguas Calientes. Well, actually you have to reach the Hidroelectrica first. They say you can't go wrong, it's a straight path. But it's not and you can go wrong. After about forty minutes of walking you need to take a left turn as you approach the big waterfall. There is a small red arrow painted on a rock, but it is easily missed. From there you walk through some kind of industrial site you feel you shouldn't be on and it was here that we stumbled upon a check point - the first sign that we were on the right path.

And then comes the railway tracks. The much-talked-about walk along the railway tracks to get to Aguas Calientes. We could have hung about for an hour and taken the train that leaves at 16.50. But in the spirit of building up a sweat and keeping the costs down, we set off walking the gradual incline along side the train tracks. In fact we really attacked this section of the journey, under the illusion that we'd be able to beat the train there. Of course, we didn't, but after two hours of determined striding, the light faded and I had to use the light from my camera LCD screen to see us through a couple of dark tunnels.

We arrived in Agua Calliente at 18.10 and had covered the ten kilometer walk along the train tracks in a shade over two hours. Not bad, but we were really going for it.

So, a quick re-cap;
07.00 - leave from Terminal Santiago on a bus to Santa Maria (15 Soles)
13.30 - arrive in Santa Maria and take a taxi straight to Zip wire crossing (15 Soles)
15.00 - arrive at zip wire and walk to Hidroelectrica
16.00 - arrive at Hidroelectrica and walk to Aguas Calientes
18.10 - arrive at Aguas Calientes and go in search of a shower and a beer.

Note, there was no stopping for lunch (I got a cheese sandwich from a lady at the zip-wire. The chicken sandwiches were to be avoided!) in this and no waiting for transport. The journey can be done in a day, but there isn't much room for any delays.

It was an enthralling day all in all, and I loved it. We could see the effects of the recent rains and the patched up railway line and the shored up river banks. It wasn't the absolute breeze we'd been led to believe, but the scenery was spectacular and the unexpected twists and turns and the general wondering if we were on the right road made it a decent adventure - I just felt I should share it!

The Nazca Lines - Peru

2010-04-22T16:45:00.002+01:00

We took a bus from Ica and though it was a relatively short journey it was particularly tough for me. A combination of an already dodgy stomach and a morning wine tour which included downing shots of Pisco meant I spent the journey staring out of the window at a point in the distance, breathing deeply and pondering as to what would be worse: sticking my head out of the window, or braving the festering toilet at the back which could turn even the most cast-iron of stomachs. I got through it with neither action necessary, but it was touch and go.

Once in a while you turn up at a place that is high up on the agenda of most people's itinerary and in most cases you know this because prices are suddenly higher. Nazca is one of those places. It is a small dusty town just off the Panamerican highway and when I say dusty, I mean you need goggles to walk up the street. That said, they're in the process of turning more of the dirt into tarmac and generally making it a more pleasant town centre. But all this really isn't of concern if you happen to be staying in a rather top-notch retreat just out of town - see vivalatinamerica.com

Moving on to the reason for being in Nazca, the Nazca Lines. The strangely precise sets of lines engraved in the dry earth making up shapes which include a spider, an astronaut, and a monkey with a very curly tail, have inspired various theories to be drawn as to their meaning. The Nazca people were around at 200BC (and were gone long before the Incas showed up) and you have to admire their work, whatever the purpose of it was. My favorite theory is that they created these geoglyphs so that they could then entertain themselves by flying over them in hot air balloons. How very decadent... and a slightly ridiculous conclusion, if you ask me! After all, it is us who are all about decadent things such as flying in the sky for fun.

Which brings me to the best part. If you want to get a good look at these lines, you really have to get in a plane and see them from above. It's not cheap, but it is definitely worth it. You can book your flight from many places in town, but the best thing to do is take a taxi straight to the airport at 7am or 8am and buy your ticket there. It's cheaper at US$60 as opposed to anything up to US$75 elsewhere. Then you have to pay about US$7 for the airport tax.

Anyway, enough of the money talk. The flight is an amazing experience. Our plane was about as small as you can get - I think it was a Cessna 172. It had four seats so it was just the two pilots and us - two pilots in case one suddenly becomes ill, which has apparently happened. It was very cosy. The pilots were as cool as pilots usually are (but not smug like commercial pilots can appear to be!) and it reaffirmed my desire to be one when I grow up! What a fantastic job.

Trying to forget the Cessna's single point of failure in having just one engine, we were soon zooming around spotting geoglyphs to the right and then to the left as the plane banked and swooped around - I can see why they provide sick bags. Even if there were no ancient lines to see, I would have enjoyed flying above the desert anyway. It is something you shouldn't miss and thirty minutes in that plane makes the trip to Nazca well worth it.

Huacachina - 10 people, sand boards and a V8

2010-04-15T21:43:00.000+01:00

There is a small oasis not far from the town of Ica, Peru called Huacachina. A visit to an oasis is well worth it if you haven't experienced much desert before, but once you've seen the tranquil green lake surrounded by touristy buildings which are in turn surrounded by sand dunes, there is a way to liven things up a bit; Dune buggies!

We signed ourselves up for a group trip which meant a ride in an absolute beast of a buggy. We're talking about a ten-seater equipped with a roll cage and a powerful V8 engine. Tasty stuff! The engine roared as we climbed the first of the many dunes and as we approached the top, the driver slowed and then stopped just as we were about to head down what looked like an almost vertical drop - all very theme park. But the pause turned out to be a little longer as his phone started ringing and he took a call, with the rest of us staring down into the sand-covered oblivion. I'm not sure if that was coincidence or a deliberate maneuver to increase the suspense, but it worked!

Thankful for the roll cage and the fact that we didn't die after the first drop, I settled into the experience more and racing through the desert was an amazing experience. From time to time we would stop to take pictures of the amazing landscape before zooming off once more to find a steep dune to climb and then slide down.

After half an hour or so, we stopped again and out came the sand boards. I didn't even know that sand boarding was part of the tour, no one had mentioned it when we signed up. It was a welcome bonus and I was glad to learn that our driver didn't expect us to stand up on the boards, unless we really wanted to. I was happy to take the first slope lying down and wasn't disappointed! You can use your legs to brake or you can see how much speed you can pick up, taking care to keep your elbows on the board and avoid a nasty sand burn.

On the next slope we tried I watch a guy who'd done a bit of snow boarding before, try to replicate it on sand by standing up on the board. It wasn't easy and he tumbled over a good few times, luckily sand is a bit more forgiving than ice, but, having only skied on snow before, I was more than happy to continue with my sledging approach. Even he admitted that lying down on the board was much more fun.

With the light fading unfortunately the experience had to come to an end. We stopped for one last look at the desert with the sun setting in the background, and then set off for one last burn back home. We all climbed back in the buggy and the driver turned the key which produced a very sorry sounding groan. The battery was dead. We got out to give it a bump-start but as soon as the driver dropped the clutch the tyres just locked in the sand. So, he went off to find signal on his mobile while we sat and waited in the fading light. Although it felt very isolated sitting there in the desert in the dark, we in fact weren't all that far from civilisation and another buggy soon can to rescue us before any sand monsters came to eat us!

If you ever get the chance to experience a ride like this, I would really recommend you take it. It's not to be missed!

Sea lions and Penguins! - Peru

2010-04-14T06:14:00.000+01:00

Yes! Finally I can say the zoom lens I've been carrying around for the last six and a half months has paid back some of its hefty price tag. The Ballestas Islands off the coast of Peru are home to hundreds of sea lions, some penguins and more birds than you can count, and the long lens came into its own.

We stayed in Pisco, which is towards the coast and about four hours south from Lima. In 2007 an earthquake struck the region and Pisco was very near the epicenter. The damage done is still very apparent - the town understandably looks more like a building site in some parts. The cathedral was not totally destroyed but you can see its very fragile-looking dome from the street. However, the main plaza and streets feeding from it are now in good condition and buzzing with people.

Twenty minutes in a taxi down the road is Paracas and the National Reserve. From here you can take a trip to some of the islands. In the mood to see sea lions, we got ourselves on one of the early morning boats leaving for the Ballestas Islands.

It was a simple but fantastic trip. Firstly we journeyed along the coast to get a look at the pre-Colombian Candelabra etched into side of a sand dune, the origin of which is a mystery.

Next we arrived at the islands and amongst the thousands of birds we could spot the odd peguin waddling around. The water temperature is an all year round 15 deg C and it certainly was not cold there.

Around the next corner was a beach full of sea lions. It was rather odd to see and from a distance they almost looked like humans. In the sea were sea lions floating and swimming, and they too looked pretty human-like. I suspect they were in fact busy looking for food. In any case, the zoom lens was a joy to use as, because of the rocks and choppy waters, we were that bit too far away to get some good close-ups otherwise.

Caraz - Peruvian Andes

2010-04-13T02:49:00.000+01:00

In the Cordillera Blanca, you have the opportunity to explore the mountainous countryside and then return to stay in some of the most peaceful towns you're likely to find in South America. We picked out a place called Caraz which is an hour and a half down the road from Huaraz. It really is down the road too. I was surprised to learn that Caraz is almost a kilometer further down in altitude. There was no switchback roads on the journey, just gentle downhill descent that at times you didn't even notice it.

Well actually, the gradient might be gentle but the road is peppered with pot holes, some of which you could lose a truck in! Therefore people who drive on it spend most of the time treating each pot hole like a chicane, swerving from left to right and often playing chicken with oncoming traffic because the tarmac might be in slightly better condition on that side of the road. It makes for a lively journey, especially when you driver tries to overtake a car that is swerving around, oblivious to anything behind.

We arrived in Caraz and Nathan and I went to get some lunch (it's nice to meet someone always as hungry as me) and Sophie and Jo went to scope out the accommodation the town had to offer. They returned some time later having been in just about every hostel going, and were particularly keen on a little place up the road called Alojamiento Caballero so we went and checked in there. It was in keeping with the town's tranquil vibe and it had a balcony overlooking some stunning countryside with a table and four chairs - perfect for a game of cards or two!

Alojamiento Caballero is a bit rough around the edges and had pillows that you imagine only Fred Flintstone could get any sleep on, but it did us just fine, was incredibly cheap, and the owner is a friendly and welcoming ninety-something old man who can't really hear what you're saying, making conversations particularly challenging!

Looking to do some hiking, we had a stroke of luck and managed to get ourselves on a heavily discounted tour. The tourist board was offering trips to Laguna Paron to show people the natural beauty and celebrate the recent triumph achieved by local Peruvians. Apparently the lake was being used as a source for the hydroelectric station downstream and was being drained. The local people weren't having that, and managed to regain ownership so that it can be preserved. Well done them!

Although the tour didn't involve walking, it was nice to be chauffeured around for a change. The weather wasn't great but having not put in the hard graft in getting up there meant that it didn't matter so much that some of the scenery was shrouded in cloud.

The trip took us to see the ruins at Tunshukaiko, a particularly underwhelming site that I wouldn't recommend, and then we finished the half day with lunch at a trout farm. I had the opportunity to scoop out some of the fish myself before it was taken off to be prepared in the kitchen. You can't get much fresher than that!

Laguna 69 - high up in the Peruvian Andes

2010-04-07T22:14:00.001+01:00

Four thousand, six hundred meters above sea level is a bright turquoise lake surrounded by snowy mountain peaks going by the name of Laguna 69. It is the popular day hike you can do from Huaraz – and one that our hostel was keen that we attempted on our first day in the Cordillera Blanca. I’m very much glad that we didn’t, instead opting to do the hike a few days later. After all, this is a destination 13,000 ft in altitude (it sounds much more impressive in feet) and is not to be sniffed at, especially if you’ve spent the previous week lounging on a beach.

So having given ourselves a few days to adjust, we signed up with the hostel organised tour. They simply provide a ride to the starting point and make sure that a driver is waiting to pick you up when you return. You can do the walk off your own back, but there was enough people signed up at the hostel to make it a reasonable price. Plus they give you a little sketched map detailing the route and a Dutchman called Rex was on hand the night before to give us a few tips for the day in a very monosyllabic fashion.

Our party of eleven set off at 6.30am (well it was more like 6.45 after some faffing) on the road to Yuncay where we were to pick up supplies from the market there, and then be driven up the bumpy switch-back road to the starting point. The driver instead tried to drop us off at a restaurant for breakfast which came with a hefty “gringo tax”. We weren’t having that (he was obviously in cahoots with the restaurant owner) and made him take us to the market as planned. I’m not sure how, but the two and a half to three hour drive took four.

The starting point was 3,900m high for the three-hour hike up to the lake and the little map came in very handy. The direction we had to take wasn’t always all that clear but we were safe in the knowledge that if we found ourselves climbing after only ten minutes, we had done something wrong – thanks, Rex. I take that back about your tonal delivery!

The walk itself is not technical (save a few jumps over a river or two) and the ascent, when we got to it, wasn’t too steep. The overriding challenge was altitude. It was best summed up by Jo when she said that it was like doing a hike whilst having the flu. It affected people in different ways and at different times. Luckily for me I didn’t feel any effects until after we reached the top, when gradually a nasty headache (I don’t get headaches so I suppose I don’t have a decent frame of reference) started and remained with me for the rest of the day.

As we climbed, the group split up and spread out with some struggling more than others. We were walking against the clock, as at this time of year there is a high probability that it will rain in the afternoon. And as I’ve learnt from climbing mountains and volcanoes before, it can be a bit of a blow when the prize at the top is obscured by rain and cloud. You need that reward at the end when your working hard and on this occasion we got it! The switchback trail ended and the beautiful lake emerged, every bit as breathtaking as the posters we’d seen in Huaraz. It is like a little peace of heaven up there.

You can swim in the lake if you feel like it, but it is about 3 degC so you wouldn’t want to be in there for long. With the sun beating down I was slightly tempted to go for a dip but glad I didn’t as when a few clouds came over the temperature dropped a somewhat drastically.

The journey back down was quick and straightforward and while there was a few spots of rain, the downpour we were expecting didn’t materialise. By the time we reached our driver, we were all suffering from headaches, but it was well worth it! My last picture shows a lake near the start of our hike. Even the less impressive lakes are pretty stunning around here.

Huaraz - sun and rain, sun and rain...

2010-04-05T23:45:00.000+01:00

The overnight bus from Trujillo to Huaraz did not yield much sleep, although I probably had more than if I’d really been trying. I’m finding it much better to assume that I will be awake all night as it takes the pressure off, and any sleep I do get is a welcome bonus!

We arrived in Huaraz at about 7.30am, and along with our new friends Jo and Nathan, we took up the offer of a free taxi to a place called Caroline Lodging – offering travellers a free ride after an all-nighter on the bus makes such good business sense, I’m surprised its not more popular.

So with their free lift and presence in most guide-books, it’s no surprise that Caroline Lodging is a popular place. 35 Soles ($12 USD) buys you a matrimonial room including breakfast – which they kindly gave us upon arrival with no extra charge – and you can get a dorm bed for about $5USD. The place has a great kitchen and dining area, a cinema room, arranges tours and does your laundry. The only slight drawback is that all these extras have to be paid for. Laundry is not going to be free but if you want to cook you have to pay an amount depending on how many people you’re cooking for. The same goes for the cinema room, making it the first place that has charged to watch their DVD’s.

Huaraz is a hub of a place for outdoor activities. Surrounded by gorgeous snow-capped mountains (which looked even better at sunset) reminded me a little of being in the Alps. But the place isn’t about skiing. Its about hiking and trekking and adventurous things like ice-climbing. – the latter offered to us by way of a knock on the door at 7.30am. For a minute I thought I must have agreed to something the night before, but then I realised the cheeky guide was knocking on all doors speculatively to see if anyone was interested. Climbing a wall of ice is really something you agree to do the night before. It’s never going to seem appealing when you haven’t even had your first a cup of tea.

Of course, it wouldn’t be Peru without some ruins to see. And that’s what we did on our first full day. We had spoken to some people who had taken on something a little bigger on their first day and had been beaten by the altitude. Given that the night before we had climbed 3200m from Trujillo by bus, immediately hiking up too much further didn’t seem like a good idea. No, far better to acclimatise a bit first by doing a 2 hour walk to the ruins of the Huari Empire (700-1000AD) at Willkawain. The ruins themselves are well kept stone buildings that were once lived in and then later used as burial chambers for the important folk of the day. We hired a guide, who happened to be nine years old, and he rattled off the information with great confidence, for a small sum of course. He was the perfect size for some of the tunnels we crawled into, the rest of us struggled a little.

However, for me, more impressive was being out in the countryside. Once we had seen the ruins, we spied a big cross on the top of a hill and decided to walk up to it. It was good to test out the body after a week of lazing on the beach, however at this time of year the afternoon usually spells rain. By the time we reached the cross the heavens opened and we ran back down for cover. Just a couple of hours earlier we had been suffering the heat from the strong sun and now we were soaked and doing our best to keep warm. Luckily the hostel had good hot showers so we headed back. By this time the streets of Huaraz were more like rivers.

Once clean and dry it was time to shell out a few extra Soles pick out a DVD. Anything without Jean Claude Van Damme would be perfect!

Chan Chan

2010-04-02T00:53:00.000+01:00

On the road between Trujillo and Huanchaco is the huge ancient ruins of Chan Chan. A bit like the pyramids in Mexico, or the volcanoes in Central America, visiting lots of ancient ruins makes me become a little blasé and under whelmed at the thought of seeing another. In fact, I was tempted not to go to Chan Chan, but to break up our lazy beach days, we did. And I’m so glad we did. After all, it’s the largest adobe city in the world – to quote another statistic from our book – so it is bound to be good.

It is pre-Inca ruin, that was built and belonged to the Chimu, before the Incas kicked them out and copied there building style in Cuzco. Chan Chan is in great shape. It is not a group of stone foundations where walls used to be, it still has proper high walls meaning you can walk around inside an ancient city. Not bad, hey? And if you don’t want to take a guide, you can buy a leaflet, which describes what you are seeing each plaza and courtyard, and what they got up to in each place.

The walls have engraved pictures of birds and fishes that are in excellent condition - they´ve done a good job of restoring them. The whole site is under restoration at the moment as they are trying to protect and strengthen the walls and paths. And it is so vast. The city walls once contained palaces, temples and houses, plus rows of storerooms stretching 1000km up the coast where they kept their agricultural wealth. It certainly beats another day on the beach!