tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11866728610197954152024-02-06T18:18:39.854-08:00G&T's World TourGazboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409828705848059241noreply@blogger.comBlogger31125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1186672861019795415.post-19827065856243941342013-05-12T08:08:00.001-07:002013-05-12T08:08:18.051-07:00Lost in translationWe've now been in New York for 7 weeks, and we are starting to feel settled. We have found a permanent place to live just by Battery Park, and we are spending a small fortune so that if we crane our neck out of the window the we can just about see the statue if liberty:<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlN2UoED7M2-dGiwQqZFhmdVodz-6Nop-EOkCkqTBK_52o4sINlTqqz8tVyZXy89atcLHm4EXV2-9U5OGHoaBZKMfag1b3Jx_bCA1JgOYe7GTvALxolDvOeuAgA4fWl7P0_PtUBvGvnXc/s640/blogger-image--1238121785.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlN2UoED7M2-dGiwQqZFhmdVodz-6Nop-EOkCkqTBK_52o4sINlTqqz8tVyZXy89atcLHm4EXV2-9U5OGHoaBZKMfag1b3Jx_bCA1JgOYe7GTvALxolDvOeuAgA4fWl7P0_PtUBvGvnXc/s640/blogger-image--1238121785.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">One of the most entertaining things about living in the good old US of A is the language barrier. England and the USA are two countries separated by a common language. Take exhibit A. This is the nameplate that arrived for me at work:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxX9sD0_wnOF5j7P8vFl9oe24Cw9rpy98yWFqoWVl0DJ8b79nBV_J2bHocQYjyXE3PoxExOfj_XVeKRNsA0poy6flSnd2nZIOzP9BcPfcfxMSmtdVaRoR2KDdC5UxK6CBdlHIJiwdDi18/s640/blogger-image--946357552.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxX9sD0_wnOF5j7P8vFl9oe24Cw9rpy98yWFqoWVl0DJ8b79nBV_J2bHocQYjyXE3PoxExOfj_XVeKRNsA0poy6flSnd2nZIOzP9BcPfcfxMSmtdVaRoR2KDdC5UxK6CBdlHIJiwdDi18/s640/blogger-image--946357552.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Is Garris even a name?</div><div><br></div><div>Every trip to the supermarket brings more entertainment as I scour the aisles for products with ridiculous names. Two of my early favourites were Nips (butter rum flavour of course):</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfu3Z0U4pDL62FgPjgjGdGz54gAZ1p5Qc8NlmXdq4IvHe3PpcEXr1xgV4vWbtr_W5Hu9Y0nuszYt8RRt_R9Iyv1Kcc5J_HxUNFsB3mBdbKwgw-KDwfSVk2MoDv7amUuA6Bp-L6qC3HQ64/s640/blogger-image--1115105782.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfu3Z0U4pDL62FgPjgjGdGz54gAZ1p5Qc8NlmXdq4IvHe3PpcEXr1xgV4vWbtr_W5Hu9Y0nuszYt8RRt_R9Iyv1Kcc5J_HxUNFsB3mBdbKwgw-KDwfSVk2MoDv7amUuA6Bp-L6qC3HQ64/s640/blogger-image--1115105782.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And 'Toss n Done' by none other that 'Arm & Hammer':</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjsMuZdq4WHWUaywWnwjImFkugnEbcGWDpnE6dLisSArOjVw8oCZjfUKpqybWLAdhJZ9RKbpz0RF7huvMUpZub-wP9DH3izCU8wD_p_isGYeyGlGkXEJ_HiZv6qQNkdTYmXO8lrWg30W8/s640/blogger-image--433776248.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjsMuZdq4WHWUaywWnwjImFkugnEbcGWDpnE6dLisSArOjVw8oCZjfUKpqybWLAdhJZ9RKbpz0RF7huvMUpZub-wP9DH3izCU8wD_p_isGYeyGlGkXEJ_HiZv6qQNkdTYmXO8lrWg30W8/s640/blogger-image--433776248.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">(Note the "Fast & Easy" promise!)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Top of the list though for me is 'Nads' hair removal cream:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhumo_mhmuEknmaGBdUnaAQ1FeNOuNiA8gYKru2QHnrzSl9jgdZKQp-0d8CKS8excgiTplDuhXeNSq6CT_wVEH7s5C0HC3G0gBWedicqWh5v6DxFnx7RgVfoOEtGbdwjN5ZgMBSR_yCLTg/s640/blogger-image--469681611.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhumo_mhmuEknmaGBdUnaAQ1FeNOuNiA8gYKru2QHnrzSl9jgdZKQp-0d8CKS8excgiTplDuhXeNSq6CT_wVEH7s5C0HC3G0gBWedicqWh5v6DxFnx7RgVfoOEtGbdwjN5ZgMBSR_yCLTg/s640/blogger-image--469681611.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Primarily because it reminded me of the funniest <span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">amazon review that</span> I have ever seen: <span style="font-family: '.HelveticaNeueUI'; font-size: 15px; line-height: 19px; white-space: nowrap; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">http://www.amazon.co.uk/review/R231U4ZG0YDNHD</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469);">In my short time here, I felt it important that I take in as much American culture and history as possible. So made tracks to Las Vegas. My dad, brother, Rich, Andy and Pete all made our way there for Cinco de Mayo, and whilst I will live by the mantra of what happens on tour...STAYS on tour. I will divulge some high level details of the carnage. We arrived around 9:30pm on Friday, and popped out for a single beer to help us sleep. At 8am the following morning, I emerged on my own from a night club having lost everyone else and with the sun high in the sky. I took myself home to the hotel to find that (after my dad) I was the first one home. The less said about the ~10hours in between...the better. The details can only incriminate people.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469);"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The two things I can talk about are the boxing (Matweather vs Guerrero) which was one of many highlights of the weekend. A card full of great fights and. 12 round headline fight with Mayweather dancing around the ring and rarely getting caught to win unanimously on points:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-qQkFyS_h2WT42aJjsaI4RwNN5r-M23iBdBwzGDwA6lSWVmeHPLCtAlmIJAfpH_1UII6wcIXXTEfIPp5qi3v8hSH6cG54TG68QUbfPMZf_-BOGNViE_h6cb8ROAjiJ0DNSfO44hS1u0s/s640/blogger-image-666067726.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-qQkFyS_h2WT42aJjsaI4RwNN5r-M23iBdBwzGDwA6lSWVmeHPLCtAlmIJAfpH_1UII6wcIXXTEfIPp5qi3v8hSH6cG54TG68QUbfPMZf_-BOGNViE_h6cb8ROAjiJ0DNSfO44hS1u0s/s640/blogger-image-666067726.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg15y0x7OTfMiudArPPeeooRi9oeYvdHKWFJuCiRwEOJ2wHmP5n8M4d4IMQnVg9ZMPylaNCh7NIKS7ggqzQn-3Y6lo4h3LUFWcXt42pwUohFOLQlapZM7zFNkA-6UdwLDFt0b7pNsrk5d0/s640/blogger-image-1980078245.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg15y0x7OTfMiudArPPeeooRi9oeYvdHKWFJuCiRwEOJ2wHmP5n8M4d4IMQnVg9ZMPylaNCh7NIKS7ggqzQn-3Y6lo4h3LUFWcXt42pwUohFOLQlapZM7zFNkA-6UdwLDFt0b7pNsrk5d0/s640/blogger-image-1980078245.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The other disclosable topic is Hugo's Cellar which was a restaurant caught in a 1980s time warp with the best steak I have EVER eaten. It's in the basement of the gaudiest and most retro casino in old Vegas called The 4 Queens, and is well worth escaping the strip for.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfZZDM_LFFuIT3l1T8p4DFYUccJ7_BhGo6G9RGBW-HpkanFu0bRCcisxN8_wcsKNGgAng59U9-jGhFNbEZVa12AfAknKk2JRnBcc8Y_IIYvYlJ8kitBmhfUC67i21WQFN6XodebwqvkUw/s640/blogger-image-132483513.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfZZDM_LFFuIT3l1T8p4DFYUccJ7_BhGo6G9RGBW-HpkanFu0bRCcisxN8_wcsKNGgAng59U9-jGhFNbEZVa12AfAknKk2JRnBcc8Y_IIYvYlJ8kitBmhfUC67i21WQFN6XodebwqvkUw/s640/blogger-image-132483513.jpg"></a></div><br></div>A final word of wisdom filling my first adult trip to Vegas, and this cones care of the ever wise Rich. When leaving Vegas, get on the earliest flight that you can. That last hungover guilt ridden sober day in Las Vegas is one to be avoided!</div><br></div></span></div><br></div>Gazboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409828705848059241noreply@blogger.com0Tribeca Manhattan40.716807 -74.013393tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1186672861019795415.post-15354632745272724812013-03-24T03:45:00.001-07:002013-03-24T03:45:40.691-07:00Off to New YorkAs we are off on another adventure, thought it was a good time to start up the blog again. Everything is packed up in London and we've said our tearful goodbyes. Now it's time to start our new life in NY. I suspect I will use the phrase "only in America" many times in the coming posts...<br />
<br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnUwf_ivS_8G1iVK20miorHjUQ6hrOR41GoTA-DpGjYkQQlU0QZzmXnJyD42CQJSMIkn_0SAYwcNRCN0FYLR2tHQGRMBCryEEyDHLA7vXvJCH7ozXnfTjawX9dtylCP4g7dhmZ_YtIR9c/s640/blogger-image--153828506.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnUwf_ivS_8G1iVK20miorHjUQ6hrOR41GoTA-DpGjYkQQlU0QZzmXnJyD42CQJSMIkn_0SAYwcNRCN0FYLR2tHQGRMBCryEEyDHLA7vXvJCH7ozXnfTjawX9dtylCP4g7dhmZ_YtIR9c/s640/blogger-image--153828506.jpg" /></a></div> <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYOc-fYUUU8c_F924h-xzQwT6XPJquRSY12mRbIUKW3cq2wOynLgGYSTQ_WtF0EkZIGjMFahPj-03vzbaVXWdYx22Z__tgbNpP7-aiz0aI21Ygt4xZCY0kvI_pnSK-zp64gWVmZfBXDb0/s640/blogger-image-2032185453.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYOc-fYUUU8c_F924h-xzQwT6XPJquRSY12mRbIUKW3cq2wOynLgGYSTQ_WtF0EkZIGjMFahPj-03vzbaVXWdYx22Z__tgbNpP7-aiz0aI21Ygt4xZCY0kvI_pnSK-zp64gWVmZfBXDb0/s640/blogger-image-2032185453.jpg" /></a></div>Gazboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409828705848059241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1186672861019795415.post-72725994894292043032008-09-20T06:48:00.000-07:002008-09-20T07:48:11.408-07:00BrazilOur first morning in Brazil was a hazy one, because we’d met up with Tess & Anton (the Aussie couple we’d met in Cordoba) the night before. We’d gorged ourselves on one final slab of Argentine beef, and then we’d hit the bars of Puerto Iguacu. We eventually stumbled back into our hostel at 3:30am, and five hours later (though it felt like five minutes) our pre-booked taxi was banging on the door. Thankfully it was only a short journey that we were embarking on. The Brazilian border is only five minutes from Puerto Iguacu, and then Foz do Iguazu (the nearest Brazilian town to the falls) was only a further five minutes. The border crossing was informal to say the least, and our taxi driver was allowed through without having to show any identification whatsoever. This was for the best though, because our hungover bodies & minds couldn’t have coped with extensive questioning.<br /><br />On arrival in Foz do Iguazu we checked into the excellent Hostel Bambu, and immediately went back to bed. After a couple of hours sleep our hangovers had subsided sufficiently for us to get up and explore the Brazilian side of the falls. From Brazil you get a much better panoramic view of the falls, and there are some great catwalks that take you along near the bottom of some of the falls. I think the Argentinean side was little a more impressive, but it’s definitely worth seeing the falls from both sides.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-QHbm2x2-JnfbplwPwllOK_H2XRhJtdDbpr70uFLUKsX9AQy5fkB_F2Hc4H1lxxylEo9fQ3e0mFuzOpVFHckPBRXxIuCp8VPvtP4_JMrLvZvzQD4cmI-A2KRwdlEXrBW_cBCK738Szkk/s1600-h/IMG_2888.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-QHbm2x2-JnfbplwPwllOK_H2XRhJtdDbpr70uFLUKsX9AQy5fkB_F2Hc4H1lxxylEo9fQ3e0mFuzOpVFHckPBRXxIuCp8VPvtP4_JMrLvZvzQD4cmI-A2KRwdlEXrBW_cBCK738Szkk/s320/IMG_2888.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248115320554006610" /></a><br /><br />On our second day in Foz do Iguazu, Gaz convinced Tara to go and see the Itaipu dam. This is an engineer’s dream outing, but for normal people (like Tara) it’s probably more comparable to a frontal lobotomy. We were lucky (or at least Gaz thought so) to visit the dam on a day when two of the three massive spillways were open. These are only opened when there is too much water upstream of the dam. During our visit 40,000 cubic meters of water were flowing through them every second, which is 25 times more water than flows over the Iguazu falls. The dam is a joint venture between Brazil and Paraguay with the electricity produced being shared between the two nations. The negative environmental impact of the project is enormous, but the venture generates 90% of Paraguay’s power and 30% of Brazil’s, so it’s not all bad news! The tour of the dam is criticised by many travellers as being a marketing exercise for the Itaipu, but Gaz really liked it and Tara gained some small enjoyment from the opportunity to wear an orange hard hat.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiUkBhbL44pOlLSFFdq4E5BcTBbYDRE2CsGqFNtwHt9ZWWr_YPgrgoPFZL7_uGS45ShBjjxmZOT13ORn-hCY_IY16nTqI2LLiM3CUXtwXAUFRJZJu07C0DZPY_Gzf5VlZ6DMCOPwAsuv8/s1600-h/SNV32429.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiUkBhbL44pOlLSFFdq4E5BcTBbYDRE2CsGqFNtwHt9ZWWr_YPgrgoPFZL7_uGS45ShBjjxmZOT13ORn-hCY_IY16nTqI2LLiM3CUXtwXAUFRJZJu07C0DZPY_Gzf5VlZ6DMCOPwAsuv8/s320/SNV32429.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248108097750171314" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggmXJ_9F6Ym0poF5lcKEyCfgdo7B7-MvWvizYMsCCy5N8C2OdE17KNh7hrWuEqVcK0YVWwNIzLu-_W4OBh9vKS3FuFveXIBmTz66IdoGtZXRjkGeXQIO43rf-eTrfFrAkOkFUEEhxCqa4/s1600-h/IMG_2904.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggmXJ_9F6Ym0poF5lcKEyCfgdo7B7-MvWvizYMsCCy5N8C2OdE17KNh7hrWuEqVcK0YVWwNIzLu-_W4OBh9vKS3FuFveXIBmTz66IdoGtZXRjkGeXQIO43rf-eTrfFrAkOkFUEEhxCqa4/s320/IMG_2904.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248107656531833586" /></a><br /><br />From Foz do Iguazu we took a flight up to Sao Paulo, and checked into a hostel in Vila Madalena. Vila Madalena is one of the few parts of the city that you can safely walk around after dark, and uncoincidently is also the home to the some of the best nightlife in the city. Sao Paulo is generally considered to be a party city, but unfortunately Tara was suffering from a bought of flu whilst we there so we didn’t really see much of this. From a sightseeing point-of-view, Sao Paulo has pretty much nothing to offer. We spent two days walking around the city, and in that time we only felt the need to take my camera out of our bag twice. This was probably for the best though, because showing your camera in public was a beacon to sticky-fingered locals.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtqcPEgiKdsaRKTJ50NtLDM6UQPcFigl9dafxsjbqgwwLOnOqbTsbM6nvDrCfgGjDmZRAAiv1ZsBxg3mcxBuqJeR5HIlRF70RDHRlZ1_OGIRVvFHdwFtqSkVnwmADS6Mq_W9fn2JckisA/s1600-h/SNV32431.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtqcPEgiKdsaRKTJ50NtLDM6UQPcFigl9dafxsjbqgwwLOnOqbTsbM6nvDrCfgGjDmZRAAiv1ZsBxg3mcxBuqJeR5HIlRF70RDHRlZ1_OGIRVvFHdwFtqSkVnwmADS6Mq_W9fn2JckisA/s320/SNV32431.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248108099141605826" /></a><br /><br />From Sao Paulo we caught a bus up to Rio de Janeiro, and located our hostel in a seedy part of the city called Lapa. We arrived at the hostel late at night, and the streets around it were teeming with prostitutes. Bizarrely, seeing these ladies of the night made us feel quite homesick, because the streets around our flat in London are also home to a busy red-light district. After dropping our bags off in our dorm room we ventured out to get some food, but the streets of Rio felt quite intimidating at night so we beat a hasty retreat to the hostel and ordered a delivery pizza instead. Whilst our hostel in Lapa wasn’t salubrious it did have one redeeming feature, it was staffed by a couple of Argentinian models (one male and one female). So we spent the evening sipping caprinhas and admiring the scenery within our temporary home.<br /><br />Thankfully the streets of Lapa were far more welcoming the next morning, and once we’d got our bearings we felt quite safe in the area. Rio has a bad reputation for crime, one which is probably quite well deserved. Personally we didn’t experience any trouble at all, but we met several people who’d been mugged. The advice given to all tourists if they are confronted with such a situation is to handover whatever is asked for in case the attacker has a knife or gun. This makes tourists easy pickings though, and I reckon tourists should be encouraged to scream like a banshee and start swinging at their assailant. Street crime would probably fall quite rapidly in Rio if tourists started doing that.<br /><br />During our time in Lapa we explored most of the sites in central Rio. We took the funicular railway up to Cristo Redentor (Christ the Redeemer), which was disappointingly small and incredibly crowded. We also walked around the city and visited the Cathedral, which must rank amongst the top 3 ugliest buildings in the world. Unfortunately for Rio de Janeiro, it became an affluent city in the 1970s and several of its key buildings (including the Cathedral) are grey concrete monstrosities. The stained glass windows of the cathedral make it worth a visit though. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZHgHNjnVmhr4PyLjXQvukmOWW4qrdJlmqLr3pEWjSJ7KwtB5mG0ZKJFdWsyZnhJX0Owyb6rLyxZEyJ-SuaGR6pl9k5cUHLGVsT0ZpJtGDc7ZypwHB4NSj1HnyBV7XzDJtENSKOv5paYk/s1600-h/SNV32455.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZHgHNjnVmhr4PyLjXQvukmOWW4qrdJlmqLr3pEWjSJ7KwtB5mG0ZKJFdWsyZnhJX0Owyb6rLyxZEyJ-SuaGR6pl9k5cUHLGVsT0ZpJtGDc7ZypwHB4NSj1HnyBV7XzDJtENSKOv5paYk/s320/SNV32455.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248108103044844434" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinnAxv6y4vBdjucAxcNL6MVXhUt8Umpu9gbyrvYXC8DUDE1C1k0Kx3ArGxEfoheUYLVLKwP2C_upvp9tiVhEuETXaEV4Z4i4zN5PFAwuBVdvvrpwMfvTuELq6kIRLSpv2fvGhLFCd_nMY/s1600-h/IMG_2959.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinnAxv6y4vBdjucAxcNL6MVXhUt8Umpu9gbyrvYXC8DUDE1C1k0Kx3ArGxEfoheUYLVLKwP2C_upvp9tiVhEuETXaEV4Z4i4zN5PFAwuBVdvvrpwMfvTuELq6kIRLSpv2fvGhLFCd_nMY/s320/IMG_2959.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248107661145611298" /></a><br /><br />On our penultimate day in Rio we went on a tour of the Rocinho favela, which is a shanty town built on a hill behind the wealthy Ipanema neighbourhood. The favelas of Rio are notoriously dangerous and they advise against visiting them without a guide, so we where a little apprehensive about the trip. The tour was one of the highlights our 6-month journey. We were picked up from our hostel by our BeALocal guide and driven to the bottom of the favela. There we transferred onto motorbike taxis, and we driven at breakneck-speed along winding streets up to the top of the favela. Along the way we saw drug-runners armed with machine guns guarding the favela against the police. From the top we were walked down through the small alleyways of the favela with sewage running around our feet. The most surprising thing about the favela was that in spite of its lawlessness it still is a relatively normal functional suburb of Rio. We visited an art studio, a bakery, and a day care centre as we walked down, and everybody we met was very friendly. Most of the houses had electricity and running water, and some would be considered middle-class abodes in Bolivia. The favelas are owned and run by the drug-lords, and it was interesting to learn about the hierarchy and the ever-present danger of being shot. On average 2-3 people are killed everyday in the favelas of Rio.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyM5Ibrbky5IgXnXrS_yAZd1PZ16kztQTRmLGa-tA4T7IoX4QAxIzevoz8qgUK1c9CJUejYZUka9qq3C9vGRGUTtnyyRxf9DJrISsqLkdjXUO4AY7tnFhfP5ccYGEKFUMb5KB7SAa8pVA/s1600-h/IMG_2953.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyM5Ibrbky5IgXnXrS_yAZd1PZ16kztQTRmLGa-tA4T7IoX4QAxIzevoz8qgUK1c9CJUejYZUka9qq3C9vGRGUTtnyyRxf9DJrISsqLkdjXUO4AY7tnFhfP5ccYGEKFUMb5KB7SAa8pVA/s320/IMG_2953.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248107662342027506" /></a><br /><br />After our tour of the favela, we were dropped off in the Santa Teresa neighbourhood which was recommended by many guidebooks. We weren’t particularly impressed by it, but enjoyed riding the bonde (a street tram) down into the centre from Santa Teresa. This was probably one of the most unsafe modes of transport we’ve used in the last six months, and we were convinced that our tram was going to fall off its rails as we passed over the Lapa arches. After our tram ride we made our way over to Sugarloaf Mountain to watch a magnificent Rio sunset. Tara was having a bit of a slow day though, and when we bumped into our friends, Siobhan & Dave, she excitedly asked if they’d been on the favela tour yet. We’d met Siobhan & Dave for the first time that morning….on the favela tour.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBsJ5sSTtOC3w0nBZfC4e-qlqYmhVFPpCzIhPRKXc6iI-aBmwyJmJ0pM-WrBjFW0VevDxsmMhT0j6IMf5CQpCd7TFCXx7xv7AFkLxqX30g6gUDQ6MUwVEoZ8qd6RcztdtgVYugcVn_c08/s1600-h/IMG_2974.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBsJ5sSTtOC3w0nBZfC4e-qlqYmhVFPpCzIhPRKXc6iI-aBmwyJmJ0pM-WrBjFW0VevDxsmMhT0j6IMf5CQpCd7TFCXx7xv7AFkLxqX30g6gUDQ6MUwVEoZ8qd6RcztdtgVYugcVn_c08/s320/IMG_2974.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248107662471441730" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGDP1DUUJ8rNIuAzkMQWt7Icb6eoUENFtq_Ovk2PKPv2xY92saIrMNtnRpQNzmUfy2qNZvn8vQYyy3Gn3F9Q09aX8Fx7Mru7WcIKtxylJj1E91fZuCjmIzCqrAvSLiH-z6DDYVVvnK3YY/s1600-h/IMG_3001.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGDP1DUUJ8rNIuAzkMQWt7Icb6eoUENFtq_Ovk2PKPv2xY92saIrMNtnRpQNzmUfy2qNZvn8vQYyy3Gn3F9Q09aX8Fx7Mru7WcIKtxylJj1E91fZuCjmIzCqrAvSLiH-z6DDYVVvnK3YY/s320/IMG_3001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248107666630517266" /></a><br /><br />From Rio we flew up to Salvador in the northern state of Bahia where we discovered a true gem of a hostel. It was owned by a Mancunian called Russell, who’d effectively transplanted a British guest house into the heart of Barra in southern Salvador. Like every other city in Brazil, Salvador is considered to be quite dangerous. Wandering even a few meters off the main thoroughfare could lead you into some serious trouble. Thankfully we managed to avoid any problems, but we were constantly hassled by street sellers & beggers. We spent a day exploring Salvador’s pelourinho, which is a series of picturesque interconnected plazas adorned with beautiful colonial era churches and buildings. The most stunning of all was the Sao Francisco Church, which is better known as the Golden Church because of the ornate golden gilt work inside. When this church was built the African slaves were angry that they weren’t allowed to worship inside it. They retaliated by amending the appearance of religious characters in the woodwork. Nearly all of the cherubs in the church have African features (both in their faces and below the waist), and many of the angels appear pregnant.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEJMotmIgBr1ZVFyB0bhiMKXmqm9FVeKvQLAuFDsITkwr7FaWHzhyBG833unjFbTPGqxEGcD6Qa8P57OVeIZRz93njleeS6cvBKeNXDRXTuNeCakugoVzjrFsgi4uWQUCcL87u94VyqF4/s1600-h/SNV32488.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEJMotmIgBr1ZVFyB0bhiMKXmqm9FVeKvQLAuFDsITkwr7FaWHzhyBG833unjFbTPGqxEGcD6Qa8P57OVeIZRz93njleeS6cvBKeNXDRXTuNeCakugoVzjrFsgi4uWQUCcL87u94VyqF4/s320/SNV32488.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248108383182570450" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiet8GYIm-84xy3xlyjIQIiAowcx1JoGem-E8lxE1jUEadyRF0u_4Iyj3lVFzDR_Lov1HixaMos30X_e7FGgGdaOBk5RP_uZN2YHdpH8tnncDzf_JOafzDGML4kzHzoimS1p0e8NntmAsE/s1600-h/SNV32501.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiet8GYIm-84xy3xlyjIQIiAowcx1JoGem-E8lxE1jUEadyRF0u_4Iyj3lVFzDR_Lov1HixaMos30X_e7FGgGdaOBk5RP_uZN2YHdpH8tnncDzf_JOafzDGML4kzHzoimS1p0e8NntmAsE/s320/SNV32501.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248108386641716866" /></a><br /><br />After speaking with our host, Russell, we made the decision to head to Morro do Sao Paulo, which is a small Atlantic island off the coast of Salvador. The quickest way to get there was on a catamaran, but we’d heard rumours that the crossing could be a little rough. So we did some research and spoke to a few people who’d done the crossing and it sounded like Armageddon. The crossing is so rough that <strong>everybody </strong>on the boat gets seasick. There is a woman working on the boat, whose only job is to collect full sea sick bags and hand out new ones. Surely this must be the worst job in the entire world?! Based on the information acquired, we (well, Gaz) decided that we’d take the long route to the island. This involved a ferry across the calm Todos os Santos bay to Bom Despacio, then a bus down to Valenca, and finally a speed boat to the island of Morro do Sao Paulo. This only took us four hours (two more than the catamaran), and is worth it if only for the fun speed boat ride at the end.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFDy-m66NJ0ITfVaTbnQcy2tvUFuf8IFBLAG4Jjs3zyDEhDMAJw6mpjnPWZebi9LHVgIclu5CZKU8W1ocouq-DiM85KrE-mMJvCONqeOPfopzy28SD2qcuTCrQW9lOeCIAOqp3Hw1UCgE/s1600-h/SNV32505.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFDy-m66NJ0ITfVaTbnQcy2tvUFuf8IFBLAG4Jjs3zyDEhDMAJw6mpjnPWZebi9LHVgIclu5CZKU8W1ocouq-DiM85KrE-mMJvCONqeOPfopzy28SD2qcuTCrQW9lOeCIAOqp3Hw1UCgE/s320/SNV32505.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248108392229135234" /></a><br /><br />We spent five days on Morro do Sao Paulo, and settled into a nice routine of spending all day drinking on the beach, and all evening drinking in the bars & restaurants. Conveniently Michael & Cathy (who we’d first met in Boliva) and Siobhan & Dave (who we’d first met in Rio) were also staying on the island so we had plenty of drinking companions. The beaches of Morro were always lively and entertaining, with the locals practising their capoeira (a Brazilian non-contact martial art), playing football, or beach volleyball. We rarely got off our sun loungers though. The only time we mustered any energy was on the last day, when Gaz decided to try out the Tiroleza. The Tiroleza is a wire that runs from the lighthouse at the top of the hill on Morro do Sao Paulo, down to one of the beaches. For a mere 25Reals Gaz was allowed to strap himself into a harness and jump off a cliff whilst attached to this wire. Ever the daredevil he decided to attempt this feat in a superman style pose. This all looked good to start with, but lost its shine when he started skimming across the water on his face. It makes for a good a video though.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="350"> <param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/YdjMDEyp7NM"> </param> <embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/YdjMDEyp7NM" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="350"> </embed> </object><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBPjixf5aF_wgs9A2Z5ZENUXSkRt0EcXwbicGCJjv8vE8UvYnvgnxIzpetH46QDUHhNFP7ehSbT3ZtEUEC-BTpwY1ddx2f-srjxTvjZi24vOD-z7hc0bwCuOGv6G1vsUg3fGjgpJFLDu0/s1600-h/SNV32519.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBPjixf5aF_wgs9A2Z5ZENUXSkRt0EcXwbicGCJjv8vE8UvYnvgnxIzpetH46QDUHhNFP7ehSbT3ZtEUEC-BTpwY1ddx2f-srjxTvjZi24vOD-z7hc0bwCuOGv6G1vsUg3fGjgpJFLDu0/s320/SNV32519.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248108393578033074" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq16_Ekn0KvStplEEKgF70S76yGUNQbPIbElP35l9Z4RRmRNMNQJK5b_lQ21AAXvKmXMCNVKVHjm789JU9vnmWS4hKVffGw4vUhgWC9spGCQtTApmK3_iT0cm2OkBba7pYttirJVDovsM/s1600-h/IMG_3041.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq16_Ekn0KvStplEEKgF70S76yGUNQbPIbElP35l9Z4RRmRNMNQJK5b_lQ21AAXvKmXMCNVKVHjm789JU9vnmWS4hKVffGw4vUhgWC9spGCQtTApmK3_iT0cm2OkBba7pYttirJVDovsM/s320/IMG_3041.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248108095395944978" /></a><br /><br />From Morro do Sao Paulo we made our way back to Salvador, and spent our first evening at a show of traditional Bahian dancing. The majority of people living in the state of Bahia are descendants of African slaves, and their dancing and food is heavily influenced by this. On our final day in Salvador we caught a bus up to Flamengo beach, which is 45 minutes north of the city. We got quite lost on the bus, and we were unsure for most of the morning if we were even on the right beach (it turned out that we were). It didn’t really matter to us though, because one tropical palm tree-lined Atlantic beach is pretty much the same as all the others.<br /><br />From Salvador we flew back down to Rio, and it was on this journey that we had our first real medical problem of the trip (excluding minor bouts of flu and hangovers). Tara started to get some very bad head pains on the flight, and she was clearly in agony. The air stewards were really kind, but the problems seemed to be caused by the change in pressure on the flight and short of an emergency landing there was nothing they could do to help. The pains eased once we’d landed, but with a 12 hour flight back to London in a week’s time we felt we should check it out. The doctor prodded, poked and x-rayed Tara, and concluded that she had a nasal infection and to her horror prescribed a course of antibiotics. This meant that Tara had to finish our trip as a teetotaller. Sympathetic as always, Gaz assisted by getting extra drunk on each of the remaining five nights of the trip.<br /><br />In spite of the alcohol restrictions, we still managed to make the most of our last few days in Brazil. We spent quite a bit of time on Copacabana and Ipanema beach, and Tara purchased a seventeen pairs of Havaiana flip-flops. An excessive number considering the fact that there are only seventeen hours of sunshine in an average British summer. Conveniently our final stint in Rio also coincided with a football derby between two of the city’s biggest teams. So for the second time in our trip, Tara was dragged along to a football stadium against her will. The atmosphere inside the Maracana stadium was incredible, with flares, flags and drums everywhere. In the unlikely event that anybody is interested, the game ended Flamengo 2 – Fluminense 2 with Kleberson (ex-Man Utd) rescuing a late point for Flamengo.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2CndiVRjgBqQYcMQ_bKVOwNTozfUR9CsxVsR69Ic8iTSN5kVjefgt5NAen-i-VVWVqoChAoZrisMqjm2DxUhAk7soMpPYO7zJlraUV_O9FJ8tTBwUrHo1B35CIxNlGarWkHrx0ss9jwc/s1600-h/SNV32547.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2CndiVRjgBqQYcMQ_bKVOwNTozfUR9CsxVsR69Ic8iTSN5kVjefgt5NAen-i-VVWVqoChAoZrisMqjm2DxUhAk7soMpPYO7zJlraUV_O9FJ8tTBwUrHo1B35CIxNlGarWkHrx0ss9jwc/s320/SNV32547.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248114193654255074" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBl6HPHQBLo2SEkaL5WVTNsOfxV0S9aUMhM5y3ig6KggwMUfLnA9gQsEE42Xl8gEz3r2nExAya0VqJewUKX-ht_6Tmxo4ZW_1zG3q0cxJeBcwBSGEA9a-iQ-nOhv7fLxKWbAjgunL05aE/s1600-h/SNV32557.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBl6HPHQBLo2SEkaL5WVTNsOfxV0S9aUMhM5y3ig6KggwMUfLnA9gQsEE42Xl8gEz3r2nExAya0VqJewUKX-ht_6Tmxo4ZW_1zG3q0cxJeBcwBSGEA9a-iQ-nOhv7fLxKWbAjgunL05aE/s320/SNV32557.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248114192072759042" /></a><br /><br />After the football match we set off for a nightclub in the Rio Das Pedras Favela. We’d been warned that the club could get edgy, but unless you were a single female tourist then you were reasonably safe. The shirtless local boys were like dogs on heat, and any girl not clinging onto a male companion was likely to be mauled. The boys had no interest in the local girls though; who would be strutting their stuff in little more than a bikini yet received no attention whatsoever. We never felt threatened though, and in some ways it felt safer than your average trip to Infernos in Clapham.<br /><br />We both really enjoyed Brazil. We’d been travelling in winter clothes since leaving Australia, and it was nice to get back into shorts and flip-flops again. There’s a lot written about the crime levels in Brazil, and we felt that often the fear of the crime was worse than the crime itself. There’s definitely too much crime in Brazil and something needs to be done about it, but as long as you’re careful then you can avoid most problems. I found that walking around as a couple immediately made you less of a target, and we never carried anything of value so there was nothing for us to lose. Brazil has a rich culture and amazing scenery, and Rio is in our opinion the most beautiful city in the world, so hopefully the street crime doesn’t put too many people off visiting.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZp53cKYqdmhj72VmX-Za7udpC9aHwZ-JmHqaszG_i82hJ8kPAeerO8MfpS-MudiVp58Pt6qbp6EVjRISOhAShkmOLOf9jCxAytcN5s7EdfmSrIf10XySIOHOj8tIFRglHRu7Xw-fQUIU/s1600-h/SNV32563.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZp53cKYqdmhj72VmX-Za7udpC9aHwZ-JmHqaszG_i82hJ8kPAeerO8MfpS-MudiVp58Pt6qbp6EVjRISOhAShkmOLOf9jCxAytcN5s7EdfmSrIf10XySIOHOj8tIFRglHRu7Xw-fQUIU/s320/SNV32563.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248114195291891410" /></a><br /><br />Our flight back to London was on September 3rd, which is also Tara’s birthday so on our final night in Rio we decided to splash out and go to the best restaurant in town. We pulled on the best clothes (well, the least tattered anyway) in our rucksacks, and set off for Cipriani Restaurant in the Copacbana Palace hotel. The food was exceptional and it had a price tag to match. We have a tradition of going to plush restaurants on each other’s birthday, so we’ve eaten in some fantastic restaurants in London and this was easily the equal of them. It was a fantastic way to finish an amazing trip. Our travels around the world have been the best six months of our lives. It probably cost a little more than we’d planned, but it’s easily the best money we’ve ever spent.<br /><br />We’re often asked which country we liked most, and it’s a difficult one to answer because each place we visited was special for a different reason. Bali is high up on Gaz’s lists, and we both really enjoyed Argentina. Australia was a huge amount of fun, and New Zealand had the best scenery (but it was a little cold for our liking). India had the nicest people, and Cambodia provided us with one of the most obscure evenings of our lives (getting trapped in a bar with a drunken Irish accountant and his mercenary friend because of the floods outside). The entire trip was amazing (even Bolivia in hindsight), and has given us both the travelling bug. With a little bit of luck, this won’t be the last time that I update this blog. We have to go and sell our souls back to Investment Banks for a little while now, but next on our list is Mexico….then Columbia…..then Japan…. then Equador……..Gazboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409828705848059241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1186672861019795415.post-56598048579019619892008-08-28T17:59:00.000-07:002008-08-28T18:19:40.300-07:00ArgentinaAfter a four hour flight from Lima we arrived in Buenos Aires airport excited about the next step on our journey. Argentina is a country that we’d both been particularly excited about visiting from the very start. Unfortunately Argentina didn’t start well. Firstly we struggled to convince the cash machines in the airport to give us any Pesos. The first three cash machines that we tried wouldn’t give us any money at all, and Tara was only able to get any money out of the third one when she reduced the amount that she asked for. We later discovered that Argentinian cash machines won’t ever dispense more that 300 Pesos at a time. All the other travellers that we met had the same problem, and we’re still not sure if its a ploy by Argentine banks to reap some additional transaction fees or just a measure implemented to prevent their currency from crashing....again. Anyway, armed with some cash we bought ourselves bus tickets and set off for the city centre. Unfortunately our bus only made it as far as the car park entrance, and we then sat there for an hour. We’ve no idea why we sat there because despite all the passengers on the bus growing more and more irate, the bus driver didn’t think to inform us of the cause of the delay. We probably wouldn’t have understood his Spanish anyway, but it would’ve been nice if he’d told everyone else. We eventually managed to escape the car park and proceeded without incident into central Buenos Aires. We checked into our hostel (the plush Milhouse hostel, which we highly recommend), and then set off in search of some food. It was here that Argentina started to show its class. We settled on a Charcuterie (BBQ meat restaurant) near the main pedestrian shopping street, and gorged ourselves on the best steak that either of us have ever eaten. Not only were they the best steaks that we’ve ever eaten, but they were also the biggest steaks that either of us have ever eaten. It gets better though. The steaks were also complimented by some excellent red wine, and the final bill was equivalent to what we’d spend in McDonalds in London. From that moment we knew that we were going to enjoy ourselves in Argentina.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioaXX5CpT2eP9R5gl0GYGKSQ9TFLL2YQqqJhbV27I5OBr9jM4sGDNeF_3Lx8yS9I2W7eMgNjhfPti_XL7grgB82-u7FOLDjlcnj2N-NSGC-g1Lj26jIt1_Gg0XpPseFVGZwXD8Wu7_dT4/s1600-h/SNV32333.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239740066120724914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioaXX5CpT2eP9R5gl0GYGKSQ9TFLL2YQqqJhbV27I5OBr9jM4sGDNeF_3Lx8yS9I2W7eMgNjhfPti_XL7grgB82-u7FOLDjlcnj2N-NSGC-g1Lj26jIt1_Gg0XpPseFVGZwXD8Wu7_dT4/s320/SNV32333.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />We spent our first four nights in Buenos Aires and explored most of the key sites the city has to offer. We visited Eva Peron’s grave (one of the more morbid sites on the standard Buenos Aires tourist trail) in Recoleta cemetery on our first morning and then made our way over to the colourful houses in La Boca where we watched a tango show and ate lunch. Gaz then convinced Tara to visit the Boca Juniors football stadium, where we had our own personal English-speaking guide who made us feel like minor celebrities. From the La Boca we headed back into the Microcentre (the business district), and took advantage of the weak Peso and did some shopping. One of the main department stores had a sale on, and we stocked up on Havaiana flip-flops at the bargain price of ₤2 per pair. In an attempt to save some money we decided to eat dinner in the food court of the Galerias Pacifico shopping centre. This was somewhat different from the standard McDonalds & Burger King offerings available in Lakeside or Bluewater though. In Argentina, you have the option of eating large good quality slabs of steak for very little money, so naturally Gaz indulged himself...again.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9AGi_wW1MrnA6X9sejnN6JS8FZo77S0WjVOgdxesCsK8E93f26iGLU6SASgCjuiVHKnxo3xTZtbWrmf0DYe322XmGU_IQnh-VznKa8MehVaIHxkA-u0rcmaE5ibMPgmvhs7plzirxHiI/s1600-h/IMG_2729.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239738664492732210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9AGi_wW1MrnA6X9sejnN6JS8FZo77S0WjVOgdxesCsK8E93f26iGLU6SASgCjuiVHKnxo3xTZtbWrmf0DYe322XmGU_IQnh-VznKa8MehVaIHxkA-u0rcmaE5ibMPgmvhs7plzirxHiI/s320/IMG_2729.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />On our second day in Buenos Aires we hopped on a bus and made our way to San Antonio de Areco in search of some gaucho culture. The gauchos are the Argentine version of cowboys and San Antonio de Areco is generally considered to be their heartland. From what we could see though, the gaucho culture is just another excuse to eat lots and lots of meat. We went on a horse ride when we first arrived, and once again we demonstrated our equestrian ineptitude. Whilst the Argentinians galloped around us, we couldn’t convince our horses do anything more than walk very slowly. In fact Gaz’s horse didn’t even walk very far. After a few meters his horse located a nice patch of grass and spent the next ten minutes munching on that. Following the horse riding we were treated to some traditional gaucho singing and dancing, before eventually settling down to the main event....dinner! We’d never seen so many different cuts of beef in all our lives. Once again we gorged ourselves on steak (and red wine), and after a severe case of the meat sweats we joined in with some of the gaucho dancing. After dinner, the gauchos showed us how to ride a horse properly (Gaz was taking notes) and we were then taken to a gaucho contemporary art gallery, in which all the works where inspired by the humble cow. Then it was time to get back on the bus and make our way back to Buenos Aires.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlLy_a9eP33jPE2LNRx9iHYWLyQJxQVU88V-9WPd3g7gy_MrmCAYqk0ZzCnjoN_ik9E6yDtBHG3kxr1rDP0r6yaG-qt7ySHhcx-cV15vUxceyvF__uXWCXIDoPC2znV_CrlrHsaE7ltA4/s1600-h/IMG_2735.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239738670824266914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlLy_a9eP33jPE2LNRx9iHYWLyQJxQVU88V-9WPd3g7gy_MrmCAYqk0ZzCnjoN_ik9E6yDtBHG3kxr1rDP0r6yaG-qt7ySHhcx-cV15vUxceyvF__uXWCXIDoPC2znV_CrlrHsaE7ltA4/s320/IMG_2735.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />On our final day in Buenos Aires we went on a walking tour of the city, and went to the Evita museum (which was closed but their cafe was open so we drank beer and ate cake instead). We then visited Tierra Santa, which is the world’s only religious theme park. This was one of the more obscure attractions that we’ve visited so far on our travels, and definitely the most kitsch. Every half an hour a 20foot Jesus resurrects out of the top of a plastic mountain. The park includes many mocked up religious scenes and has memorials for Pope John Paul and Ghandi. The theme park also put on a dance show for us which we’d expected to have a religious theme, but the thrusting and grooving dance moves of the belly dancers we’re definitely not suitable for children. After a visit to the park’s wailing wall and one final resurrection, we felt that we’d seen enough so we set off back to our hostel to prepare ourselves for our bus journey to Rosario.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjqDiaAG_oF1MyoaMZPQuwgsXHbR2LOKbYIcmlvgSGw3BBMLnLY0MTKEnA60ZmQzMeMSUrZICzCPIsiIarxpccDA0Jye9r-h6kGqLMWn3jiJM5tJKRRdWh2E-GFBdm76GKD89Haeb6CsY/s1600-h/SNV32340.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239740071964895906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjqDiaAG_oF1MyoaMZPQuwgsXHbR2LOKbYIcmlvgSGw3BBMLnLY0MTKEnA60ZmQzMeMSUrZICzCPIsiIarxpccDA0Jye9r-h6kGqLMWn3jiJM5tJKRRdWh2E-GFBdm76GKD89Haeb6CsY/s320/SNV32340.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWCxQHuzLBCxI-IC-Qm3GuOckSrZjvDoKuD4VmSMUt72sUyN_fF2jxfPPM6Q9otBzuRS3ftb90V1SvrAIK4o3v3sXyvRWnrDuaX4PD3LGpEcn5Q_BA0adlhzxN0kV0xrePOmJeChn10uQ/s1600-h/SNV32346.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239740084810291762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWCxQHuzLBCxI-IC-Qm3GuOckSrZjvDoKuD4VmSMUt72sUyN_fF2jxfPPM6Q9otBzuRS3ftb90V1SvrAIK4o3v3sXyvRWnrDuaX4PD3LGpEcn5Q_BA0adlhzxN0kV0xrePOmJeChn10uQ/s320/SNV32346.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheCCROtIb9VaM816o-4vDETOfGGeQ62eFtVOaCcb_flBZ_VB2B6crd8dkIgz0LMGMtFfbF5QI5zlUhJ6rx9TJwtKefYu6WwdvcQpFAXcGdTv-h4Z3p3TgAM1BQZU474V5VX2P3SDuDRhQ/s1600-h/SNV32348.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239741028093791154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheCCROtIb9VaM816o-4vDETOfGGeQ62eFtVOaCcb_flBZ_VB2B6crd8dkIgz0LMGMtFfbF5QI5zlUhJ6rx9TJwtKefYu6WwdvcQpFAXcGdTv-h4Z3p3TgAM1BQZU474V5VX2P3SDuDRhQ/s320/SNV32348.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Rosario was a pretty city, but the main attractions in this town are the river islands and the beaches. Unfortunately we were visiting in low season so the island ferries weren’t running, and the beaches were deserted. The highlight of the city for us was the monument to their national flag, which was very impressive but was tainted somewhat by the Islas Malvinas (Falkland Islands) memorial that adjoins it. Gaz felt that an Argentine Malvinas memorial was akin to a German World War II memorial (they started it!), but managed to maintain his dignity (for a change) and not offend any of the locals.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP-sr-YqJg4pMuNIKw5hURXgo4WF_KwEjgG8iTKgfSRT93wpWbIynZNYrx-ZeE8Hfq3p53s-v4uEGV3UqWW9qnmFNFA3HNZV-CvSAXqGQf4EcQvqYo2a2P0FApTHtyqQXxq8Skj-fg1KU/s1600-h/IMG_2777.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239738677377106018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP-sr-YqJg4pMuNIKw5hURXgo4WF_KwEjgG8iTKgfSRT93wpWbIynZNYrx-ZeE8Hfq3p53s-v4uEGV3UqWW9qnmFNFA3HNZV-CvSAXqGQf4EcQvqYo2a2P0FApTHtyqQXxq8Skj-fg1KU/s320/IMG_2777.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />From Rosario we travelled to Mendoza, the heart of Argentina’s wine country and we checked into Hostel Lao. This was one of the best hostels that we’ve stayed in during our trip. The excellent communal areas and free flowing red wine meant that we quickly made lots of new friends. Two Argentinians in the hostel took it upon themselves to cook an Asado (traditional Argentine BBQ) for the whole hostel on our first night. They’d bought an entire cow to cook so once again we feasted on steak (as well as glands, intestines and other offal). We hired bicycles whilst in Mendoza and toured the local wineries, where for a few pesos they would provide us with some generous wine tasting sessions. We also visited the impressive Parque General San Martin, modern art museum, the Serpentaria (snake zoo) and Aquarium (which had a huge turtle in a very small tank), but the cheap wine was definitely the highlight.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7ZKegYa80SjdO4uYVDz0wR5APleKHo6fm-3c62j_TUMrviBsTGnXuLN9bjYIooVPj9NMmuJNee_i-hb9FYuXlG_MyGlLf7_cFcNkTSOt1m7582fSNWJIW_i9s1TTWHsZkcOScVZTw8Vs/s1600-h/IMG_2789.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239738686404262946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7ZKegYa80SjdO4uYVDz0wR5APleKHo6fm-3c62j_TUMrviBsTGnXuLN9bjYIooVPj9NMmuJNee_i-hb9FYuXlG_MyGlLf7_cFcNkTSOt1m7582fSNWJIW_i9s1TTWHsZkcOScVZTw8Vs/s320/IMG_2789.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgatQJAGa-a4MDyPJ8CSc8U1HRaQ2nWPJUozDy0sDdI-uMmjRrooz7Aa1-QwjxbhrGHiOCFt8w6T1loLfDmYsCDJvX9gkoAEL78yWfMgMxsBuvs7aecIuJwx8qd_DMEQNh8Acn6FXfsIyg/s1600-h/SNV32369.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239741039600273282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgatQJAGa-a4MDyPJ8CSc8U1HRaQ2nWPJUozDy0sDdI-uMmjRrooz7Aa1-QwjxbhrGHiOCFt8w6T1loLfDmYsCDJvX9gkoAEL78yWfMgMxsBuvs7aecIuJwx8qd_DMEQNh8Acn6FXfsIyg/s320/SNV32369.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Having drunk our fill of red wine in Mendoza, we caught an overnight bus to Cordoba. This was a journey that Gaz had been dreading, but turned out to be one of the most comfortable trips that we’ve made in the last 6 months. Argentinean buses are the antithesis of English National Express buses. A trip on a long distance bus in Argentina is at least as comfortable (if not more so) than a trans-Atlantic business class flight. Cordoba was another beautiful city, the hightlight of which was the stunning Manzana Jesuitica (Jesuit Block). We also visited the Che Guevara museum in the town of Alta Garcia (where Che grew up), and ate some excellent pasta (Gaz’s first meal in Argentina which didn’t involve steak) in La Mamma restaurant with some Aussie friends (Anton & Tess) that we’d met in our hostel.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqGWXJVf6e7jbZeuTF_g8ix8tGHvNmKrorTWr3R3W7lSlptklp0ehrrRIpkkyju-FyIu8QApPVT6xbahdrVfLdWj3i70tqw-cGBQjsP31nZZx4UcW_A6uRPnTtpaWIwihEBrVWpvxq4p0/s1600-h/SNV32379.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239741040946025874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqGWXJVf6e7jbZeuTF_g8ix8tGHvNmKrorTWr3R3W7lSlptklp0ehrrRIpkkyju-FyIu8QApPVT6xbahdrVfLdWj3i70tqw-cGBQjsP31nZZx4UcW_A6uRPnTtpaWIwihEBrVWpvxq4p0/s320/SNV32379.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Our final stop in Argentina was Puerto Iguazu, home to the magnificent Iguazu waterfalls. We arrived from Mendoza at about midday, and had intended to go to the falls that day. Unfortunately, Gaz was distracted by the offer of yet more succulent steak and red wine, and by the time we’d finished our lunch the falls had closed for the day. So we got up early the next morning and caught a bus to the falls to try and see as much as possible. This proved to be a good move because for the first two hours we had the falls pretty much to ourselves. The falls themselves are truly magnificent, but after walking along the catwalks at the top and bottom of the falls we felt that we weren’t getting close enough so we signed up for a boat ride by the falls. We got an inkling that this may not be a nice sedate ride when the boat captain handed us two dry bags for our personal possessions and told us to remove our shoes. So we wrapped ourselves up as best we could in our rain ponchos and set off for a close-up of the falls. We got soaked! If hadn’t been for the ponchos then I reckon we’d probably still be drying off now. It was great fun though, and well worth the extra expense. After the boat ride we set off to see Garganta del Diabolo (Devil’s Throat), which we were told is the most impressive of the many individual falls that make up Iguazu falls. It was better than either of us could have ever imagined. It makes Niagara falls look like a dripping tap. After taking literally hundreds of photos we made our way back to the town of Puerto Iguazu, and met up with our Tess & Anton (our Aussie friends that we’d met in Cordoba) for our final Argentinean steaks. We were heading to Brazil the next morning, but that didn’t stop us from drinking into the wee small hours.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR9sQeGtH3v6_S0Aya6Q1iSAh_S-To3c_W-pbLUp9mUa2sDX9uvmoB-7RRgjGbCCm00BxvnX7XcugzRtDric-Phytq6opDsuBVCZqjUrRGVJsdhL2oiqxwBIvJgry33_BA9sqRCmWSWFE/s1600-h/IMG_2835.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239740036774871474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR9sQeGtH3v6_S0Aya6Q1iSAh_S-To3c_W-pbLUp9mUa2sDX9uvmoB-7RRgjGbCCm00BxvnX7XcugzRtDric-Phytq6opDsuBVCZqjUrRGVJsdhL2oiqxwBIvJgry33_BA9sqRCmWSWFE/s320/IMG_2835.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDQlI6G86e2BMJhHfF3TZ4Cm7Ch0Crm1FH5linDP8r35YERnnVQShh9thusl7Hl_tJOYA2nY69AMwhedH8q3f-lkzqbR65ycgEcZomX0s2qpWl-MrKDapWV6OOQkLrYNbeMiVNAWC2CYw/s1600-h/IMG_2842.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239740053972795666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDQlI6G86e2BMJhHfF3TZ4Cm7Ch0Crm1FH5linDP8r35YERnnVQShh9thusl7Hl_tJOYA2nY69AMwhedH8q3f-lkzqbR65ycgEcZomX0s2qpWl-MrKDapWV6OOQkLrYNbeMiVNAWC2CYw/s320/IMG_2842.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMZIVfk3CFRELDiNVClQ9gOokPEpOziDBNQZy-KI4ES0xQHmfQW_CG1qmmgA_zZFngtZDEI9zAXaHRfz4j8nTk2pyDWXFmGZmXYl2VsRbLRgs1in-g9ihW2X07fVMMOdekGBL9kezOI84/s1600-h/SNV32381.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239741049902285170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMZIVfk3CFRELDiNVClQ9gOokPEpOziDBNQZy-KI4ES0xQHmfQW_CG1qmmgA_zZFngtZDEI9zAXaHRfz4j8nTk2pyDWXFmGZmXYl2VsRbLRgs1in-g9ihW2X07fVMMOdekGBL9kezOI84/s320/SNV32381.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivXPt-NGTCcmC7an1FcdJKyOZlvIEwBWlqWyeA-OIHP80gWczl2PDwGHW_HIcNovsgSgb6HXws0KuC3DYBHHe89-RNFytanLm1zEkRSM3lQQrjh_nsnnyKIv3N6_of-WMCzg-5ve89MgE/s1600-h/SNV32397.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239741055048665586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivXPt-NGTCcmC7an1FcdJKyOZlvIEwBWlqWyeA-OIHP80gWczl2PDwGHW_HIcNovsgSgb6HXws0KuC3DYBHHe89-RNFytanLm1zEkRSM3lQQrjh_nsnnyKIv3N6_of-WMCzg-5ve89MgE/s320/SNV32397.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhitd1mwC5eQTWTMZbiCZ7ILWZjBIPz29xL2QLboLJby8Y3pkXbNn65yJxCK2ZMP0JSFet0ifwyyPZRNWxAqmFy4dMHIvb51lS9VWuYAoZW0yFc-nDlUndLXg-lzw3sNhjDLxKPEN2Mjsk/s1600-h/SNV32404.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239741821505840786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhitd1mwC5eQTWTMZbiCZ7ILWZjBIPz29xL2QLboLJby8Y3pkXbNn65yJxCK2ZMP0JSFet0ifwyyPZRNWxAqmFy4dMHIvb51lS9VWuYAoZW0yFc-nDlUndLXg-lzw3sNhjDLxKPEN2Mjsk/s320/SNV32404.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Argentina is a strong contender for the title of “favourite country we’ve visited”. The infrastructure in Argentina is far superior to any of the other countries that we’ve visited in South America which makes it much easier to travel around. Furthermore, your time on the road is much more enjoyable because the buses in Argentina are really comfortable. The food in Argentina is excellent as well, unless you’re a vegetarian that is. In Argentina any meal that doesn’t include beef is considered vegetarian, so don’t be surprised if your veggie pizza turns up with lumps of chicken on it. We were told that Lima was the gastronomic capital of South America, but we found that food was far superior in Buenos Aires, Mendoza and Cordoba than anything we’d had in Peru. Thanks to the devaluation of the peso in 2001/2002, Argentina is an exceptionally cheap place to visit as well. Its not as cheap as Bolivia or Peru, but its still great value and far better quality. We’d both really like to return to Argentina and explore it some more. Parts of the south were inaccessible when we visited due to the snow & ice, and I don’t think we saw Rosario in its best light, so we’ll try and make sure our next trip occurs during the southern hemisphere's summer.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_BQV6WSlRGPb-F-U-2Ld5ok9ogtlobajrMsupU63xbD7A8HaJ8lcJwEaqfH2jxcatti29l0NQDGcng8DRfy4ZWLUoasDHlDU1Gdo7RkxfbGyVHJpKqE08XIIQzSSCt-PgiGib4b6sn7c/s1600-h/SNV32420.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239741824170164610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_BQV6WSlRGPb-F-U-2Ld5ok9ogtlobajrMsupU63xbD7A8HaJ8lcJwEaqfH2jxcatti29l0NQDGcng8DRfy4ZWLUoasDHlDU1Gdo7RkxfbGyVHJpKqE08XIIQzSSCt-PgiGib4b6sn7c/s320/SNV32420.JPG" border="0" /></a>Gazboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409828705848059241noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1186672861019795415.post-7208892266024763992008-08-13T14:35:00.000-07:002008-08-13T14:52:52.963-07:00PeruFrom Copacabana we booked ourselves onto a bus destined for Puno in Peru. As with everything in Bolivia, the bus didn’t quite run smoothly and we were forced to change to a second bus before we’d even left the town of Copacabana (that’s my last moan about Bolivia before I move onto Peru). When it did eventually leave, the bus took us the short distance to the Peruvian border and dropped us off so that we could complete the immigration formalities. We then boarded the bus again and set off for Puno. Our bus had managed to acquire an additional passenger during the border crossing, and he wasn’t difficult to spot because he was carrying a large ceremonial sword. Initially we were concerned that a sword-wielding lunatic had joined us for the journey, but it later transpired that he was in fact the local chief of police. He proved to be a useful addition to our contingent because at each police check-point he would wander to the front of the bus and wave his sword at the local constabulary. Our bus would then be ushered through without hesitation each time.<br /><br />Puno is the Peruvian gateway to Lake Titicaca, but as we’d already explored the lake from the Bolivian side we decided to head onto Juliaca instead. Upon arrival in Juliaca we were warned by our taxi driver that it was a dangerous city. He even recommended that we stay locked in our hotel after sundown so as to avoid any trouble. So after eating both lunch and dinner in the best hotel in town (a 3* hotel), we made our way back to our accommodation and settled in for the night. At about 2am in the morning we were awoken by a really loud bang. This was then followed by shouting and repeated door-slamming for the next three hours. From our bedroom it sounded like someone was going from room to room robbing each guest. I (Gaz) had been pretending to sleep through it, but Tara eventually woke me at about 3am and asked me if I could hear all the commotion. Ever the hero, my response was, “Yes, and if they come to our room I’m not opening the door”. Eventually the noises subsided, and when we emerged from our room the next morning everything seemed to be normal. It was probably just a case of overactive imaginations on our behalf, but it was nerve-wracking at the time.<br /><br />From Juliaca we flew up to Cusco in the hope that a nicer side of South America awaited us. Thankfully we were not disappointed. Cusco is a great city, with a very European feel to it. We spent our first few days exploring the many cathedrals, churches and museums that Cusco has to offer. We also made full use of the excellent bars and restaurants in Cusco. After two weeks of essentially emergency rations in Bolivia, we felt that we deserved some good quality food and wine. If you’re ever passing through, then make sure you head for Jacks. The food is outstanding, and great value.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJh2vdK2jb3N62QLy886h_ygHzqwzGGXGUcQHOP2wRP5fThHCpYP2dAG7x1v8r6bnuRAPdnBKSeVlDtdBnv8mv1O4Nf6pHji1CVjyc8l3xXAJ-92A4HgON7gZcm3ncFhPdTu7CWRhB9A8/s1600-h/IMG_2692.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJh2vdK2jb3N62QLy886h_ygHzqwzGGXGUcQHOP2wRP5fThHCpYP2dAG7x1v8r6bnuRAPdnBKSeVlDtdBnv8mv1O4Nf6pHji1CVjyc8l3xXAJ-92A4HgON7gZcm3ncFhPdTu7CWRhB9A8/s320/IMG_2692.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234120421140603570" /></a><br /><br />Whilst in Cusco we also booked ourselves on a 4-day trek through the Lares valley ending in Machu Picchu with SAS Travel Peru. SAS have a poor reputation for their office’s organisation skills, so we were slightly concerned when we turned up on the morning of the tour at the meeting point to find that our guide was nowhere to be seen. Thankfully he did turn up within about 10 minutes, but it was another hour before our bus turned up. This was the last of the hiccups though, and we were soon heading out on our bus to the Lares valley. Our first stop was in the market town of Calca where we stocked up on pencils and sweets. These were gifts that our tour guide, Justino, advised purchasing to give to the many indigenous children that we would meet along the way. After a quick breakfast we got back on the bus and drove onwards to Quiswarani, with a quick stop en-route at a Condor “sanctuary” (a “sanctuary” in South America is actually a small cage with barely enough room for the animal to move). As soon as we got off the bus at Quiswarani it became apparent why we needed so many sweets and pencils. We were immediately mobbed by a small horde of adorable Peruvian children that were hungry for free goodies. We placated them with some sweets, and then set off on our trek. We covered 12km on our first day of hiking, and reached an altitude of 4200m. Despite the fact that we’d been acclimatizing to altitude since first crossing into Bolivia, we still found it very hard going. The air was very thin, especially near the top, but we’re both proud to say that we never had to resort to using the emergency donkey that SAS Travel provided just in case. Our efforts were very much overshadowed by our porters though. They not only covered the same ground as us, but managed to do so twice as quickly and without breaking a sweat. Furthermore, they still had the energy to put up our tents each evening and cook us breakfast, lunch and dinner every day. We bonded with our fellow trekkers over dinner on the first evening. Our group consisted of two Irish girls (Clodagh and Elaine), an American mother and son duo (Christine and Chris), Diba (a superhuman hiking machine from South Africa), and a group of four girls that had met volunteering in Wanaka (Laura, Rachelle, Annamarth, & Robyn). After a long days hiking we bedded down early in our tents, and had a reasonably good nights sleep considering the altitude (4000m) and temperature (below freezing).<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNCsE0Ma9NbWJw8n1kCy7g7lUkFZvw_5dCeAFTGF71Mt2uR4PYur9b8vMDo8J9TVMT7iSxEBYgv1rTFE_JqAtqzn4SUREtdf0r4ALkRQHTKbFryDpI-YLQnIlI05b8yz1DbVmbAwinsYI/s1600-h/IMG_2538.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNCsE0Ma9NbWJw8n1kCy7g7lUkFZvw_5dCeAFTGF71Mt2uR4PYur9b8vMDo8J9TVMT7iSxEBYgv1rTFE_JqAtqzn4SUREtdf0r4ALkRQHTKbFryDpI-YLQnIlI05b8yz1DbVmbAwinsYI/s320/IMG_2538.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234119937862035650" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRSydPIV0XcRPC_ofoNGKPMaLN3rDZ7-CdpYV6JarhNJdXe2k0UBOulP2mBQDaKKbW5bBPcS74DyF9V9XLdVM4o1-XRIJS_HD9OrL1N2DFkNii8uH08SuS1WNW9nQSpuwfUvdk9p8_Iqo/s1600-h/SNV32280.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRSydPIV0XcRPC_ofoNGKPMaLN3rDZ7-CdpYV6JarhNJdXe2k0UBOulP2mBQDaKKbW5bBPcS74DyF9V9XLdVM4o1-XRIJS_HD9OrL1N2DFkNii8uH08SuS1WNW9nQSpuwfUvdk9p8_Iqo/s320/SNV32280.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234120850780642834" /></a><br /><br />We started our trek the following morning by visiting a traditional Andean home. We were sceptical of this, but it was far more authentic than we ever imagined. An old couple in their 70s lived in the small hut which was no more than 3m by 3m, the floor of which was infested with Guinea Pigs (a local delicacy). They cooked, cleaned, lived and slept in this tiny hut. Justino, our guide, told us all about their way of life and translated our questions into Quechua (the local indigenous language). From the house we continued trekking and by the end of the day we’d covered 15km and reached an altitude of 4400m. Our campsite for the evening was at 4200m, and was considerably colder than the previous night. Despite the harsh conditions our chef cooked up a storm again. We’re still amazed at how he managed to produce such culinary delights with the aid of only a gas hob.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7zVZYoqJuxmY1HoEbxRubbVWJ3eby8nbWV355jwFPWqVnpnWq_el5GBt52j1XHbnqyzGf-vTNToYtMXA7wJhG_hG7yYlVigfAN38UHNkB4FTJ01qTWcM5MSJokUgCOI4uvPqFvVofmY8/s1600-h/IMG_2591.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7zVZYoqJuxmY1HoEbxRubbVWJ3eby8nbWV355jwFPWqVnpnWq_el5GBt52j1XHbnqyzGf-vTNToYtMXA7wJhG_hG7yYlVigfAN38UHNkB4FTJ01qTWcM5MSJokUgCOI4uvPqFvVofmY8/s320/IMG_2591.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234119948668901202" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiivIBw21gBe3f3GDMWQjL78uhJpUENQMNcDiuI8UVNpViX8QfhOhWHO-MToreeSkNnaVdZWeto-yjMVlddK5Cm8-QDrDwuv1Yosk55hyphenhyphen8pb9qqwdmtEw2Bv3VPyM8Tplu0jazpbUm90YM/s1600-h/IMG_2575.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiivIBw21gBe3f3GDMWQjL78uhJpUENQMNcDiuI8UVNpViX8QfhOhWHO-MToreeSkNnaVdZWeto-yjMVlddK5Cm8-QDrDwuv1Yosk55hyphenhyphen8pb9qqwdmtEw2Bv3VPyM8Tplu0jazpbUm90YM/s320/IMG_2575.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234119944914693218" /></a><br /><br />Thankfully our final day of hiking was nearly all downhill. We walked from our campsite down to Ollantaytambo (18km),and from their we caught a train to Aguas Calientes. Diba, Tara and I all indulged in a well deserved beer on the train whilst we took in the stunning scenery that surrounded us. Following one final screw-up by the SAS Travel office (they’d forgotten to book our accommodation in Aguas Calientes), we settled into our hotel and then made our way up to the thermal baths from which the town gets its name (Aguas Calientes literally means hot water in Spanish....I think). We were then supposed to meet our guide at 7:30pm so that we could go for dinner, but he’d got lucky with one of the girls at the thermal pools so was running a little late.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijmv_6ky5XcVOr9KJtbjS6rgNmCGMTdWbnsB2SDyPQJnd5C4zZ1TYUz_nY6fCjK0wbbv8w8ombohWCJPFpIfMYeVLu1o0AFN15lHCpyi3BAnMstdVltU5_r2hW3e9MELoVGPl0jlZLx-A/s1600-h/IMG_2535.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijmv_6ky5XcVOr9KJtbjS6rgNmCGMTdWbnsB2SDyPQJnd5C4zZ1TYUz_nY6fCjK0wbbv8w8ombohWCJPFpIfMYeVLu1o0AFN15lHCpyi3BAnMstdVltU5_r2hW3e9MELoVGPl0jlZLx-A/s320/IMG_2535.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234119941649176850" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Z49blvXjDlI1-ECHnDST0AOI8J8VOPQV3XHeavGjmahZZ9TpXa4usFafSvJjqIYZVCwnvkcXdLc0eUnUFMDVtPb02YNwzTf_S8hf1fDpywilVfJ4z9UG3rqQug3EF6ccAWnF-izjURk/s1600-h/SNV32287.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Z49blvXjDlI1-ECHnDST0AOI8J8VOPQV3XHeavGjmahZZ9TpXa4usFafSvJjqIYZVCwnvkcXdLc0eUnUFMDVtPb02YNwzTf_S8hf1fDpywilVfJ4z9UG3rqQug3EF6ccAWnF-izjURk/s320/SNV32287.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234120853151918402" /></a><br /><br />The following morning we dragged ourselves kicking and screaming out of bed at 4am. For some unfathomable reason we’d decided the night before that it would be “fun” to walk up to Machu Picchu. The walk consists of a 400m ascent up uneven Inca steps in the pitch dark. Its definitely not fun. It was worth it, however, as it means you reach the site before all the hoards start arriving in buses. Justino had spent the entire evening with the girl from the springs and was lacking the energy that he’d had on previous days, but still managed to give us an informative tour of the site before letting us loose to explore on our own. Despite having hiked over 40km in the past 3 days, Gaz managed to muster the energy to climb Huayna Picchu, and Tara walked up to the bridge on the original Inca trail. We then set off back towards Cusco by train and bus, arriving back just in time to check into our hostel before heading out on the town with our fellow trekkers to drink away our aches and celebrate our achievement. David & Victoria, a couple we’d met in Mission Beach (Australia) and again in Copacabana (Bolivia), were also in town so they joined us as well for a skinful of booze. I’m still not sure how, but we even managed to drag ourselves in Mama Africa (one of Cusco’s nightclubs) for a dance. I believe a considerable number of gin & tonics may have been responsible for this.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIbVX6EZzco1jtzhEJquC3k0Skr_0rXceiVfmfr5BCWsmSl4zGQFqeW5ehuD5_YIibaDC8J91yk1g5H_-ygMm-ln6nl9fO3gCbj9YGdywXF5keQuw_gdcUU7ZvePJ9GBb_hrG-fTT7ISA/<br />1600-h/IMG_2623.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIbVX6EZzco1jtzhEJquC3k0Skr_0rXceiVfmfr5BCWsmSl4zGQFqeW5ehuD5_YIibaDC8J91yk1g5H_-ygMm-ln6nl9fO3gCbj9YGdywXF5keQuw_gdcUU7ZvePJ9GBb_hrG-fTT7ISA/s320/IMG_2623.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234119957583801474" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij4qPFnEajUqDR2qne7EVdyB_uB3IfqvzgP_5TlRicaBTLbN2muJz17dnf72ilWnz_m6BmJlCA3Pjy4Vrm2sF6E_b_pBuQNak1dc6E29CVxPDBX2xGM0dgOn3O_f2XMiQ8ftPBEht2bfg/s1600-h/IMG_2633.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij4qPFnEajUqDR2qne7EVdyB_uB3IfqvzgP_5TlRicaBTLbN2muJz17dnf72ilWnz_m6BmJlCA3Pjy4Vrm2sF6E_b_pBuQNak1dc6E29CVxPDBX2xGM0dgOn3O_f2XMiQ8ftPBEht2bfg/s320/IMG_2633.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234120405745004834" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkLlG7dQ-7tQeNewfyBLtpq8bT5pvpr6zh8nkLXeUzBKhyphenhyphenBbgP5F6mV3bwnr6yA3Qf4OHZxdsYjz6NW2qJUouGQPD4t21USAQesyx7TEXKn5qsEiw03woy8IDe1PVib9nh6Lz6kUtDWqE/s1600-h/IMG_2641.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkLlG7dQ-7tQeNewfyBLtpq8bT5pvpr6zh8nkLXeUzBKhyphenhyphenBbgP5F6mV3bwnr6yA3Qf4OHZxdsYjz6NW2qJUouGQPD4t21USAQesyx7TEXKn5qsEiw03woy8IDe1PVib9nh6Lz6kUtDWqE/s320/IMG_2641.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234120405846871986" /></a><br /><br />We spent a couple more days in Cusco after our trek and visited a few more Inca ruins. Its alarming how blasé you become about ancient ruins after a few days. The most interesting of the ruins was Sacsayhuaman (or Sexy Woman as its often referred to by visitors), which is in the hills just above Cusco. From there we decided to go horse riding around a few more of the local Inca sites, but we were conned into paying for a three hour ride which turned out to actually be a 1 hour pony trek to just a single site. Fortunately the trek only cost us £7, so we weren’t too badly out of pocket.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEqLGxpJWpOv74J5iiVDHVCdi1SG2657IULQA_IByE0G4xUyo6qfpLOwl0mvLXry7W6Rp1_plvGc67OxJAuhkXedDHxSRnuKr0vUN_I6_Dgd7yC0gAp_heeoPn_LNbhUU_iCkI9KMKjH8/s1600-h/IMG_2676.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEqLGxpJWpOv74J5iiVDHVCdi1SG2657IULQA_IByE0G4xUyo6qfpLOwl0mvLXry7W6Rp1_plvGc67OxJAuhkXedDHxSRnuKr0vUN_I6_Dgd7yC0gAp_heeoPn_LNbhUU_iCkI9KMKjH8/s320/IMG_2676.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234120414090066018" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUdO3xuNyeLGiq5_JxCERJyLHaQRefVnDIxJ1xlR0UlAC7o4-aychsp6aTIDtCTSG2MjNfB6gvS16zotJETYrsggkQZ9bWi1ylQWZq9V47hEByx5VNOmiVCGZ76TUfqjqG3A5b-nlbznY/s1600-h/IMG_2691.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUdO3xuNyeLGiq5_JxCERJyLHaQRefVnDIxJ1xlR0UlAC7o4-aychsp6aTIDtCTSG2MjNfB6gvS16zotJETYrsggkQZ9bWi1ylQWZq9V47hEByx5VNOmiVCGZ76TUfqjqG3A5b-nlbznY/s320/IMG_2691.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234120414832591394" /></a><br /><br />From Cusco we flew to Lima where we spent five nights. In hindsight this was probably too long to spend in Lima as there’s really not that much to see, but we took the opportunity to do some normal none-travelling things such as watch the new Batman film (probably the highlight of Lima to be honest). Lima has an abundance of good restaurants (especially in the Miraflores area where we were staying), so we took advantage of these and made some serious progress in regaining the weight (fat) that we’d lost whilst on emergency rations in Bolivia.<br /><br />On our penultimate day in Lima we took a day trip out to Pachacamac. This pre-Inca archeological site was pretty uninspiring (mainly because most of it looked like piles of sand), but the trip deserves a mention because of the other people on our tour. They were without doubt the biggest freaks that we’ve come across so far. The group consisted of three parties as follows:<br /><br />1.A skittish lady who was dressed entirely in white (white cap, white leatherette backpack, white shorts, white t-shirt, white rain jacket and white shoes), and refused to tell anybody where she came from (although it later transpired that she was Russian).<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO5NcQNJzKsG9NKWZ6cyXtTPxIDxX5MFBon-SUB4uvNETk2qxwA5uz8PtTJ1WoZrnd3ZindLAo5Ki6qhxasvfQ6WUaU96wvjCkPt2f3cRUIW4F-zHDlxs-s3yIJmt3tEPgk32IXC4hnKI/s1600-h/IMG_2708.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO5NcQNJzKsG9NKWZ6cyXtTPxIDxX5MFBon-SUB4uvNETk2qxwA5uz8PtTJ1WoZrnd3ZindLAo5Ki6qhxasvfQ6WUaU96wvjCkPt2f3cRUIW4F-zHDlxs-s3yIJmt3tEPgk32IXC4hnKI/s320/IMG_2708.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234120844857596082" /></a><br />2.An American family of four with an obsessive compulsion to keep as clean as possible. After stroking one of the dogs at the site, the children immediately ran to their parents so that they could disinfect themselves. The mother is pictured below wearing florescent pink and yellow children’s sunglasses.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPGhE19CyJP8IUxHACYG0ZDXsiAVql6gzqRuhA51hErrjjqaZq3pF9p-4qPUCNbFF5HaTaN8GZqA1yeZVyi3F_5iTiAFMDkUd2f4UIXoMLTuuXTGiBttxPRTEw4hRCcrDJglsy4uh8554/s1600-h/IMG_2707.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPGhE19CyJP8IUxHACYG0ZDXsiAVql6gzqRuhA51hErrjjqaZq3pF9p-4qPUCNbFF5HaTaN8GZqA1yeZVyi3F_5iTiAFMDkUd2f4UIXoMLTuuXTGiBttxPRTEw4hRCcrDJglsy4uh8554/s320/IMG_2707.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234120841575500850" /></a><br />3.An American family of three, the father of which wrote down everything that anybody said in a notebook. When not writing things down he spent most of his time ordering his wife to take photos of inanimate objects. The son scared me most though. He had the air of one of those crazed trenchcoat wearing American children that might embark on a killing spree at any given moment.<br /><br />Before the tour we’d had high hopes of meeting some new and interesting people (as we had done on every other tour that we’d been on), but instead we finished the tour feeling that someone had sucked the life out of us.<br /><br />Fortunately Peru had on the whole been a great experience (with the exception of that first night in Juliaca). We both really enjoyed Cusco and our Lares Trek to Machu Picchu. We’d also met some great new people (both Peruvians and fellow travellers), and we’d managed to replenish the fat supplies that we’d lost in Bolivia. Given our time again we probably would not have spent so much time in Lima, but as our days in Lima coincided with Peruvian Independence day (a bank holiday) we would’ve struggled to get to anywhere else anyway.Gazboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409828705848059241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1186672861019795415.post-49315329367979824682008-07-28T15:07:00.000-07:002008-08-13T14:21:05.698-07:00Bolivia[Gareth’s View]<br />Bolivia is the cheapest country in South America, and you certainly get what you pay for. It was awful. In our five months of travelling, I’ve left every single country wishing that I could stay for at least a few more days (often a few more months). When I crossed the border out of Bolivia and into Peru, I did a little celebratory dance and swore that I’d never return. Given the choice between spending a week in Bognor Regis and a week in Bolivia, I’d take Bognor every time.<br /><br />We flew from Santiago to Calama in northern Chile, and then caught a bus to San Pedro de Atacama. San Pedro is the gateway to the Bolivian Salar de Uyuni (Salt Plains), and is a beautiful little town with nice restaurants and a broad range of hotels. We arrived into San Pedro in darkness and we had to hot foot it to Colque Tourismo’s office in order to pay for our three day salt plain tour. Thankfully we made it in time, and the guy in the office was kind enough to offer to book us a hostel to stay in that night. When we eventually found the hostel that he’d booked, we were somewhat disappointed. It was more of a hut than a hostel, and didn’t have the hot water or heating that we’d been promised. We should have realised at this point that our Salt Plain tour might not be as comfortable as we would have liked.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSH6YSWxCvJAH4mYyL87YbmxNDq75xlZ6CQEmBwkiUv3ryrmX1vQ34mTSG8qkgo4GeYnj1NTPLfAj2T8jxmnAQNh_NfTYQsonH1jz5dxcMautfbnEiHQV8VCiu2OJNTtMcP6KymzoWs0s/s1600-h/SNV32229.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSH6YSWxCvJAH4mYyL87YbmxNDq75xlZ6CQEmBwkiUv3ryrmX1vQ34mTSG8qkgo4GeYnj1NTPLfAj2T8jxmnAQNh_NfTYQsonH1jz5dxcMautfbnEiHQV8VCiu2OJNTtMcP6KymzoWs0s/s320/SNV32229.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234113302986540402" /></a><br /><br />On day 1 of our tour we set out from San Pedro de Atacama in a mini bus, and by the time we reached the Chilean border control thirty minutes later we’d already made friends with two Irish couples (Michael & Cathy and Paul & Gwyneth). We then travelled on through no man’s land for another thirty minutes before reaching the Bolivian border control. The Bolivian border control consisted of a small hut and an abandoned tour bus (which also functioned as the toilet). After the border formalities were completed. Tara &I were squeezed into a Toyota Landcrusier with the two Irish couples and a grumpy looking Bolivian who’s name (I believe) was Sodomy. We quickly learnt that our driver/guide did not speak basic English, as had been promised to us by Colque Tourismo. In fact he didn’t seem to speak much Spanish either, and the only words we ever got out of him were “Vamos Amigos!”. Which roughly translates as “Let’s go people!”.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiU2Tbet9RDqSUeOzMd5W4f2tacg-kXvPS4lrYlPADhuLjq3e3-zT62REIDKfQ2HcbaVFvxGqAuw5ejMztqAL_o8No2ag_6ZiNuWhFU7i7ZadhD6Rv_KGbJojUqYRnb9jTIhUvh1y7yvY/s1600-h/IMG_2309.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiU2Tbet9RDqSUeOzMd5W4f2tacg-kXvPS4lrYlPADhuLjq3e3-zT62REIDKfQ2HcbaVFvxGqAuw5ejMztqAL_o8No2ag_6ZiNuWhFU7i7ZadhD6Rv_KGbJojUqYRnb9jTIhUvh1y7yvY/s320/IMG_2309.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234112915495027186" /></a><br /><br />We spent our first afternoon in the 4X4 visiting Laguna Verde, Laguna Blanco, some geysers and a thermal pool. All of which were unbelievably beautiful, and were only slightly tarnished by our miserable Bolivian driver-guide. We stopped for the night at a hut, and it was here that we first encountered Bolivian hospitality (or lack thereof). Whilst walking around the lake next to hut, the ground gave way beneath me and one of my shoes got caked in a salty/muddy concrete-like substance. We walked back to the hut and asked if we could have some water so that I could clean my shoes, but our request was rudely refused. After much complaining we were eventually given small bowl of freezing cold water, but they wouldn’t give us a brush to clean the shoe with so I was forced to clean it with a dirty sock. Three weeks later my shoe still hasn’t fully recovered from the ordeal. Our unheated hut was at 4400m and we were all starting to feel the effects of Altitude sickness. The sickness had positive and negative aspects. On the plus side it reduced our appetite which was lucky because the food we were given was atrocious. On the downside it also gave us insomnia so we had a long a restless night in our freezing cold hut (it was -20°C outside and it felt even colder inside).<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaghFRffi9TagD9JF4rVkaAInXw39Fyo6IkK7IFwV9QnUWIV_gbGWu1S0qB2MaISxZ_Ln8v9AJINKerZSv1P1Zupo2IZQHI-bKpTJRiybc-E1lI6WUfhDmW_znrSx1kSD5GWFbWH1sTfI/s1600-h/IMG_2320.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaghFRffi9TagD9JF4rVkaAInXw39Fyo6IkK7IFwV9QnUWIV_gbGWu1S0qB2MaISxZ_Ln8v9AJINKerZSv1P1Zupo2IZQHI-bKpTJRiybc-E1lI6WUfhDmW_znrSx1kSD5GWFbWH1sTfI/s320/IMG_2320.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234112927733643250" /></a><br /><br />We spent the lion’s share of our second day in the 4X4, with only a few short stops. Most times when we stopped our drive/guide would shout “Vamos Amigos!” at us before we’d had a chance to even take a photo. After short stops at the Valley of the Rocks and the Tree Rock, we arrived in the town of San Cristobal for lunch. The ever-hospitable Bolivians provided us with a lunch of cold soup, dry rice and sliced hot dog. Having spent four hours in a jeep most of us were keen to make use of their bathroom facilities, but our hosts once again refused to oblige and claimed that their house had no toilets. So we drove on with crossed legs until we could locate a “banos naturalle”, which translates as the first rock big enough to crouch behind. Colque Tourismo had promised us that our second night on the salt plains would be luxurious, but once again we were sadly let down. Our accommodation for the night had no running water after 8pm, and the electricity went off at 9pm. There was no heating, and our dinner consisted of boiled rice, boiled potatoes and a pancake. A somewhat dry dinner, I think you’ll agree.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8KL5t0CNjWs_YaMLAQAhZBOsuFCAqGQFHxe8ZNnMzNFBGjy_6Sd-wV94SYy6zoh6rBH6Igyermv64H3U-YVDGbKNSgTXS2bvkbx3aROZ_-JPRewdITEVc0WZ37uDiPb7d9nwfSz194nk/s1600-h/IMG_2344.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8KL5t0CNjWs_YaMLAQAhZBOsuFCAqGQFHxe8ZNnMzNFBGjy_6Sd-wV94SYy6zoh6rBH6Igyermv64H3U-YVDGbKNSgTXS2bvkbx3aROZ_-JPRewdITEVc0WZ37uDiPb7d9nwfSz194nk/s320/IMG_2344.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234112926119775986" /></a><br /><br />On the third day we finally made it onto the Salar de Uyuni (Bolivia’s famous salt plains). This was an amazing experience. As far as the eye can see there is a perfectly flat white landscape with a bright blue sky above it. This distorts your perspective, and items which look close can actually be hundreds of kilometers away. We spent about an hour taking pictures, whilst Sodomy (our driver) got more and more pissed of with us. For the last 10 minutes he sat in the 4X4 revving the engine as a less than subtle reminder that he wanted to move on. When we eventually got into the jeep, Sodomy drove us to an Island in the middle of the salt plains. We didn’t want to visit the island (or pay the entrance fee), which made our driver even more surly than he had been for the past two days. He then refused to let us out of the 4X4 to visit the Salt Hotel (a hotel made out of salt unsurprisingly). Instead he drove us straight back to Uyuni early and terminated our tour two hours early. We were glad of this though because we couldn’t bear to be in his company for another minute. The lakes, plains, valleys and geysers that we’d seen on our three day tour were truly spectacular, but for me our trip was tainted by rude Bolivians.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcK1IbGG8De1Xb25JCT5hMevMizEfYan-T9j8z3IBIfaKITWdcxf8A_5jgbTY1AS0kr5u5kR_gZk6EvYdWV9jT-HsebBcBV4Vok32WARwPM4LkE0wXTxAKKON7TvmlEqBTgEuBBgx-MM4/s1600-h/IMG_2390.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcK1IbGG8De1Xb25JCT5hMevMizEfYan-T9j8z3IBIfaKITWdcxf8A_5jgbTY1AS0kr5u5kR_gZk6EvYdWV9jT-HsebBcBV4Vok32WARwPM4LkE0wXTxAKKON7TvmlEqBTgEuBBgx-MM4/s320/IMG_2390.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234112928532876466" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Vl74y7YMwaGNrS0j01rROZCEtLP4MNLF-iKCyKGRutrP2ngkKb34RI6Rv6wlpIIzihwLQwO_e6reGGtvaU6KFYbUCbzBHH5cy3cEcr0G0gCdQBKWxh8d035UGQcgzbxbRDHH4Llisig/s1600-h/IMG_2400.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Vl74y7YMwaGNrS0j01rROZCEtLP4MNLF-iKCyKGRutrP2ngkKb34RI6Rv6wlpIIzihwLQwO_e6reGGtvaU6KFYbUCbzBHH5cy3cEcr0G0gCdQBKWxh8d035UGQcgzbxbRDHH4Llisig/s320/IMG_2400.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234112935248770178" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmTMiUOEOwZdDNiU5EILk3ctiEzS7ROW3EjBLF4UpfiDXbov6ChTZ0305wCYmFF87QgFl7u5QDx4Tz9pABbFQFjYlzm-XH-VJrm_vliXsHY1JdyoRhRXlDIPuq0rFg9nkvJ30zlOn2ACA/s1600-h/IMG_2404.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmTMiUOEOwZdDNiU5EILk3ctiEzS7ROW3EjBLF4UpfiDXbov6ChTZ0305wCYmFF87QgFl7u5QDx4Tz9pABbFQFjYlzm-XH-VJrm_vliXsHY1JdyoRhRXlDIPuq0rFg9nkvJ30zlOn2ACA/s320/IMG_2404.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234113289706337138" /></a><br /><br />The town of Uyuni was not particularly pleasant, so after a nice lunch and a beer we decided to try and book ourselves onto a bus to Oruro. This was more difficult than we had expected. There wasn’t any available buses for three days, and the train didn’t roll through Uyuni for another four days. So together with Michael & Cathy, we hired a driver to take us to Oruro. The journey was an experience in itself and for the first four hours we bounced along unsealed roads with an occasional detour through a river. Thankfully our driver was much friendlier than Sodomy, although we suspect his good mood may have been induced by the constant flow of coca leaves that his wife was feeding him throughout the journey. We arrived into Oruro at midnight and discovered that our hotel (the best in town) was surrounded by homeless people and stray dogs. All of whom were hunting for a suitable dinner in the bins outside the hotel.<br /><br />Tara and I ventured into the city the next morning for a look around. There wasn’t much to see and on several occasions we were followed by dodgy looking young men. We were getting bored of having to always keep a hand on our wallets and an eye on our backpacks, so we decided to venture onwards to La Paz. Michael & Cathy were having a similarly unpleasant time in Oruro, so they joined us on the bus to La Paz as well. The bus was reasonably comfortable, but they’d oversold tickets for the bus so for most of the journey we had a dirty Bolivian man leaning on us. His smell was akin to a damp dog, so we opened the window to get some fresh air. Unfortunately yet another unfriendly Bolivian took offence to this and started shouting at us to close the window. Our Spanish isn’t perfect but we’re fairly sure she didn’t use the words please or thank you.<br /><br />We spent three nights in La Paz, and saw most of the sites that the city has to offer. The highlight was probably the Coca museum, which gave a great insight into Bolivia’s favourite and most controversial crop. The locals have been chewing this leaf for hundreds of years. For them it is a mild stimulant which also aids digestion and helps to cure altitude sickness. From a western point of view it is the evil raw ingredient of Cocaine. The museum made the valid argument that Cocaine requires three key ingredients. The first of which is the innocent Coca leaf. The other two ingredients are complex substances, that are only created and sold (for a large profit) by large western pharmaceutical companies. So who really is to blame for the ongoing production of Cocaine?<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivNIXhl5Az4D0u0P27f0iawqsyVMdO_KXhm3Rr4KYfGw1rNEMKIyPr6h7q3ZHRcLD_Ef8Jpysi1k7q-NmlHGzUrPn0BBbL0WeJBumoA3iGrQGHXCv4YpHm0ywnac3Eqc4yNyP7A3xnC3k/s1600-h/SNV32249.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivNIXhl5Az4D0u0P27f0iawqsyVMdO_KXhm3Rr4KYfGw1rNEMKIyPr6h7q3ZHRcLD_Ef8Jpysi1k7q-NmlHGzUrPn0BBbL0WeJBumoA3iGrQGHXCv4YpHm0ywnac3Eqc4yNyP7A3xnC3k/s320/SNV32249.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234113303375047490" /></a><br /><br />We both enjoyed our time in La Paz, as there is a lot to see and do. Unfortunately we still encountered some typical Bolivian problems, such as the food we ordered in restaurants either didn’t turn up at all or each plate would turn up at 30 minute intervals. Also our hotel made us change rooms every single night, despite the fact that they appeared to have empty rooms each evening. On a more positive note, we did stock up on some good quality Bolivian souvenirs at bargain basement prices.<br /><br />We said our goodbyes to Michael & Cathy in La Paz having spent a whole week together, and caught a bus to Copacabana on the shore of Lake Titikaka. Copacabana is a beautiful, and our hotel room had stunning views of the lake. On our first afternoon we hiked up Cerro Calvario to see the 14 stations of the cross that rest on this mountain. The summit also affords great views of both Lake Titikaka and the town of Copacabana. On the second day we decided to visit Isla del Sol, an Island in the lake which is just 7km from Copacabana. Foolishly I thought the ferry would take just a few minutes to get to the Island, but this is Bolivia! About seventy of us were crammed onto a boat designed for ten people, and then we crawled over to the Island as slowly as the boat could go without stopping. It took us over two hours to cover the 7km journey to Isla del Sol! We walked the length of the Island from north to south visiting Inca ruins along the way, and we were then subjected to another tortoise-paced boat ride back to Copacabana. We met some friends for dinner that night (David & Victoria – whom we’d first met in Mission Beach, Australia), and unfortunately for them they were subjected to a torrent of complaints about Bolivia. Thankfully we were leaving the next day, but their journey in Bolivia was only just beginning. The restaurant that we’d selected lived up to Bolivian standards so they got their first experience of just how haphazard things are. Of the four meals that we ordered only two turned up. When we complained they quickly microwaved two more dinners. When the plates arrived we asked them if it was normal for the salad on the plate to be hot & soggy. The waitress apologized, but when we asked for a reduction in the price the manager told us, “don’t eat it if you don’t want to pay for it”. Friendly!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Apx-fOyAb0vDk2uEfCrC78UodcHrtTlFcvUsxGVwHiS6v4P0Aj9NWmZqQWpAv-N46p53L77sJqaevHs2mCQCCxKyIZlFkpEG-X4RTMwNPSXBnK3XhUzL3dePpm2v569HCR-AiQh7GeI/s1600-h/IMG_2484.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Apx-fOyAb0vDk2uEfCrC78UodcHrtTlFcvUsxGVwHiS6v4P0Aj9NWmZqQWpAv-N46p53L77sJqaevHs2mCQCCxKyIZlFkpEG-X4RTMwNPSXBnK3XhUzL3dePpm2v569HCR-AiQh7GeI/s320/IMG_2484.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234113297782670258" /></a><br /><br />I think its fair to say that Bolivia is not my favourite place in the world. People are rude, the buses are slow & overcrowded, boats are so slow that they barely move, and service in general is terrible. We suspect that some of this may be down to the fact that Evo Morales (the Bolivian president) is their first indigenous leader, and he is fighting a battle with the west for control of his country’s natural resources. He is also fighting the west over the role of Coca, which is sacred plant in Peru and considered the root of all drug addition in the west. As such there appears to be considerable disdain for westerners among the Bolivian people. This would certainly go some way to accounting for the Bolivian people’s attitude towards us, but doesn’t really explain why everything else is such a shambles. I won’t be hurrying back to Bolivia, although I am glad I’ve been there. The salt plains of Bolivia are simply stunning and have to be seen to be believed, and Lake Titikaka is indescribably beautiful. Its just a shame that both of them are in Bolivia.<br /><br />I think the photo below sums up Bolivia for me. Its the first sign that you see as you cross into Peru from Bolivia, and translates as "Peru: A country free from Bird Flu". So what does that say about Bolivia?!?! Thankfully we never actually got the chicken meals that we ordered in the Bolivian restaurants so we should be safe....<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnUZFViUv689nX5xhKNJLRJJCy_UwEovne2Ra8KRVP-RKB-wTe1AINVnka8OQre6t0iOL8fcL8ZW3zhASi1SzKAGK6X3zGG6elxb9n2aAwqqzS4qV4M5jNoGlGF7GgXyt_W8-MJHiYeIo/s1600-h/SNV32255.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnUZFViUv689nX5xhKNJLRJJCy_UwEovne2Ra8KRVP-RKB-wTe1AINVnka8OQre6t0iOL8fcL8ZW3zhASi1SzKAGK6X3zGG6elxb9n2aAwqqzS4qV4M5jNoGlGF7GgXyt_W8-MJHiYeIo/s320/SNV32255.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234113311994558578" /></a><br /><br />[Tara’s View]<br />To follow.....possibly.Gazboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409828705848059241noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1186672861019795415.post-66928213343571444892008-07-28T15:05:00.000-07:002008-08-13T14:07:07.251-07:00ChileOur flight from Auckland to Santiago took us across the international date line, which meant Monday lasted nearly forty hours. Most Mondays seemed to last this long when we were chained to our desks in London, so this was nothing new for us. We did, however, have our first real battle with jetlag since our journey began. We only had two days in Santiago and we spent many of our daylight hours sleeping off the jetlag.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP-yS0z90ujxDoOkS0IiTCbYHecgvJhyphenhyphenFeIziz2LnaInQuKqwWPiISdx6U6nCEvOqYpM5ozCjlDUtKa4Usa1fqQ2XJrjUHHekLpeVOXKGjnqFhhPrlJm0gH3OR54jDUgDUJ5U0Os2EhT8/s1600-h/SNV32224.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP-yS0z90ujxDoOkS0IiTCbYHecgvJhyphenhyphenFeIziz2LnaInQuKqwWPiISdx6U6nCEvOqYpM5ozCjlDUtKa4Usa1fqQ2XJrjUHHekLpeVOXKGjnqFhhPrlJm0gH3OR54jDUgDUJ5U0Os2EhT8/s320/SNV32224.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234111497423174882" /></a><br /><br />We spent our first day in Santiago walking around some of the main sights such as the Plaza des Armas, Mercado Central, Palacio de la Moneda and the Mapocho Railway station. We stayed in a hostel in the Bellavista area of Santiago, which fortunately is also home to the best bars, clubs and restaurants. We ate surprisingly well in Santiago, and the food & drink was far cheaper than we’d expected. Chile is considered to be one of the most expensive countries in South America, but with a good bottle of Chilean wine costing less than ₤2 and a bottle of Havana Rum costing less than ₤5 we felt that it was great value.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7GinwTq1Mwv2h_1AaNEaqCaiVPIf59Pa19iH6hgFD7guXgEKIOWLxzKopn_LxX6eNX4ywchWB32M3cud4u4ntyJEqZkuZuthV3HXMBmle4Q9AMup-7A5hsusc62N-bepvP7nhQneYA64/s1600-h/IMG_2279.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7GinwTq1Mwv2h_1AaNEaqCaiVPIf59Pa19iH6hgFD7guXgEKIOWLxzKopn_LxX6eNX4ywchWB32M3cud4u4ntyJEqZkuZuthV3HXMBmle4Q9AMup-7A5hsusc62N-bepvP7nhQneYA64/s320/IMG_2279.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234111492083843986" /></a><br /><br />When we eventually dragged ourselves out of bed on our second day it was nearly 2pm, so we had to try and make the best use of our remaining time. We then did something that we’re both very ashamed of. We went on an open-top bus tour of Santiago. We’ll be shunned by the backpacker community if they find out, so please keep this information to yourself. As this was our final evening in Santiago we took a cable car up to the top of San Cristobal (a large hill in the centre of the city) and watched the smog-enhanced sunset from the foot of the colossal Virgin statue that stands there. We then caught the funicular railway back down to Bellavista and ate at a superb Chilean restaurant before returning to our hostel with yet another bottle of Chilean red wine. Fortunately for us our hostel was also home to a number of travellers that had already spent a few months in South America, so we were able to pick their brains over a glass of Vino Tinto about the choicest spots to visit.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjni15oe0Kzj-IB2jR5Ka-LJx20T-_v_qUv0HeVivvuMJC4eifZFhIrSevgVxqwBj3TH1dEmpH20od4BZ3h1a8HmwZDL9EVr_3wELcsG6xJIrEUV5Dip8asbb2MQHaxVZ2nUGG0CBtlj0k/s1600-h/IMG_2293.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjni15oe0Kzj-IB2jR5Ka-LJx20T-_v_qUv0HeVivvuMJC4eifZFhIrSevgVxqwBj3TH1dEmpH20od4BZ3h1a8HmwZDL9EVr_3wELcsG6xJIrEUV5Dip8asbb2MQHaxVZ2nUGG0CBtlj0k/s320/IMG_2293.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234111493743285698" /></a>Gazboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409828705848059241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1186672861019795415.post-21724334624201232982008-07-13T17:23:00.000-07:002008-12-10T02:34:02.378-08:00New ZealandWhilst in Australia Gaz managed to convince Tara that a Campervan would be the best option for traveling around New Zealand. The weather had been unseasonably mild in southern Australia, and we thought New Zealand would be the same. We were wrong, and Gaz was suddenly very unpopular.<br /><br />We landed in Christchurch in flip-flops and quickly set about wrapping ourselves in every item of clothing in our backpacks before setting off in search of our hostel. Our hostel’s previous incarnation was a jailhouse, but with a lick of paint and some comfy bunks the owners had successfully turned it into a very comfortable place to stay.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhedVrwDKDC3myNNuXM3PPjZBc6zRxBXCQmA5ATNimO4-5B3c0fcGFat_fqnFZWFN8gRbux3vwr82F4ydtwnpSm2qOVdYF525WZPVc2IWOzXTZpS37x3inZHfKJu0bcNCRd95Ej3STaJP8/s1600-h/IMG_1990.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhedVrwDKDC3myNNuXM3PPjZBc6zRxBXCQmA5ATNimO4-5B3c0fcGFat_fqnFZWFN8gRbux3vwr82F4ydtwnpSm2qOVdYF525WZPVc2IWOzXTZpS37x3inZHfKJu0bcNCRd95Ej3STaJP8/s320/IMG_1990.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222707699356180882" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0j8WlBYh24Hwin3jExzWcA8WOpOKpfV6f59IOuMFyM8psQGQ5c_3m2jbFvx8pAaZeG7MftISAcAT_uuRsq3yb7cjkqMjT4fXQmeVbgjj2lSDeHUJVTihyzoAuUUJS3WOTPsxFyDIFwKE/s1600-h/IMG_1993.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0j8WlBYh24Hwin3jExzWcA8WOpOKpfV6f59IOuMFyM8psQGQ5c_3m2jbFvx8pAaZeG7MftISAcAT_uuRsq3yb7cjkqMjT4fXQmeVbgjj2lSDeHUJVTihyzoAuUUJS3WOTPsxFyDIFwKE/s320/IMG_1993.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222707702039134258" /></a><br /><br />We spent our first afternoon wandering around the city of Christchurch and taking in the main sites before treating ourselves to a gourmet curry in the Two Fat Indians restaurant. On day two in Christchurch we headed out of the city to the excellent Antarctic Centre. The centre acts as the starting point for nearly all Antarctic expeditions. In addition to some informative displays it also houses a colony of blue Penguins and a Antarctic storm simulator (which wasn’t too different from the weather on the streets of Christchurch).<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizyU6dD-1v2WeGO2hul8_x6dN61ylDPmy2BAawWVnYLoZMe_7WcxGLoBnWBj35gebJOJYJ_4fKN3rJHQPZnZPPRf2KEuLD2x60ZO8LrwX94kAb-_nZS_I9IikvXxkRkEkSzwob7SwfTQM/s1600-h/IMG_1942.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizyU6dD-1v2WeGO2hul8_x6dN61ylDPmy2BAawWVnYLoZMe_7WcxGLoBnWBj35gebJOJYJ_4fKN3rJHQPZnZPPRf2KEuLD2x60ZO8LrwX94kAb-_nZS_I9IikvXxkRkEkSzwob7SwfTQM/s320/IMG_1942.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222707693755570578" /></a><br /><br />We collected our Campervan from Jucy Rentals on the Wednesday morning, and drove straight to The Warehouse (a discount shop in New Zealand) to stock up on woolly hats, socks and some eye-catching thermal underwear. The first stop on our itinerary was a Gondola just outside of Christchurch. The views from the top were nice, but it probably wasn’t worth the expense for anybody that has travelled in a Gondola before. We then travelled onwards to Mount Cook and eventually arrived at Glentanner campsite in pitch darkness. The stars overhead were amazing that night and it was the brightest Southern Cross that we’d seen in our time in the Southern Hemisphere. We awoke the next morning to discover that we were surrounded by snowcapped mountains. From the campsite we drove the final few kilometres up to Mount Cook and went for a walk in the snow. The Hermitage Hotel at Mount Cook has a checkered past in that it has burnt down numerous times in a short period time, so we were glad to see it was still standing when we returned from our walk. We treated ourselves to coffee in the hotel before hitting the road again. The drive from Mount Cook down to Dunedin was breathtaking at every turn, and our journey was regularly interrupted for photo stops.<br /><br />We arrived in the student town of Dunedin in the late afternoon, and embarked on a short walking tour before checking into our campsite. The next morning we made the short trip over to the Otago Peninsular and spent a few hour hours watching and learning about the rare Royal Albatross that nest there.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHu8oGx6_I-O22ARqKRkZeN-I_oGjPhBfxpOIdWxqXPWfgocIYreTwUFwH_VroaXI3rZML-6ytbQaOZeBS8N-w15vU_8Gsk2uybjFv35WQPSiV1qKINx-P1qYILq-yaLlAyu8Ycyu_tBM/s1600-h/IMG_2033.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHu8oGx6_I-O22ARqKRkZeN-I_oGjPhBfxpOIdWxqXPWfgocIYreTwUFwH_VroaXI3rZML-6ytbQaOZeBS8N-w15vU_8Gsk2uybjFv35WQPSiV1qKINx-P1qYILq-yaLlAyu8Ycyu_tBM/s320/IMG_2033.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222707706152139298" /></a><br /><br />From Dunedin we drove over towards Te Anau, stopping enroute at the Elephant Rocks (the setting for several scenes from the recent The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe film). On arriving in Te Anau we quickly located the pub and settled down for a few beers, before adjourning to our campsite to cook ourselves dinner. The next morning we set off for Milford Sound. Milford Sound is a stunning Fiord on the western coast of New Zealand. The steep mountains that bank the Fiord create some magnificent scenery, including several large waterfalls, and the waters are teeming with wildlife such as seals & dolphins. Our return journey to Te Anau from Milford Sound also brought some excitement because the diesel gauge on our van dropped far more quickly than it had done on the outbound journey. The diesel indicator light came on about 30km outside of Te Anau and we were forced to coast down the hills in neutral to save fuel. Thankfully our Campervan (who’d been named Lucy) managed to limp into the petrol station under her own steam, though we’re convinced that we drove those last few kms on diesel fumes alone.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3nwc6D62CFXdBgyUBXuFlrtEugnEBPURKzMtoRNqlOsh4SjWAqIpuKfzUgwaReZCLn7k0RHcxEIYiBJKXdHBygsUeFxgBlnyo7JzRVPDkXoKE_krqn12MWpgwsTu17lr0IILeGRVPFmw/s1600-h/IMG_2093.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3nwc6D62CFXdBgyUBXuFlrtEugnEBPURKzMtoRNqlOsh4SjWAqIpuKfzUgwaReZCLn7k0RHcxEIYiBJKXdHBygsUeFxgBlnyo7JzRVPDkXoKE_krqn12MWpgwsTu17lr0IILeGRVPFmw/s320/IMG_2093.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222707708437622562" /></a><br /><br />From Te Anau we drove onto Queenstown, and as it was Saturday night we decided it would be inappropriate if we didn’t test out a few bars. We’d arrived in Queenstown on the second day of their Winter Festival (a celebration of the start of their ski season), and hence the town was awash with people ready to party. Our first stop was Minus 5, which is a bar constructed entirely from ice. Here Gaz learned the hardway that you shouldn’t lick your glass if it is constructed from ice. The higher levels of Carbon Dioxide in the bar make the alcohol in your drink more effective, and a shot and cocktail in there set us up for a heavy night. In addition to a light head, we also managed to acquire two Aussie girls in the bar and they became our drinking companions for the rest of the night. Our next stop was the Boiler House bar which warmed us up, and also saw the start of the Tequila slammers. We vaguely remember going to a hip-hop bar after that, but the rest of the evening is pretty vague in our memories. Our digital camera contains a number of pictures that we don’t even recall taking, but we look pretty happy in them so the rest of the night must’ve been good too. We also treated ourselves to an argument over a pot noodle, probably our first (and most pointless) barney of the trip so far. Our hangovers the next morning were monumental, and despite our best efforts we didn’t make it onto the ski slopes of Cardrona until gone 2pm. Gaz then managed just one hour of snowboarding before having to retire to the mountain restaurant, and Tara’s time on the piste was even shorter than that. Getting to the slopes had been hard work and we’d discovered that our campervan (Lucy) wasn’t the best vehicle for traversing icy mountain roads. We decided that we should make use of our snowchains on the way down, and (after 45 minutes of swearing) Gaz eventually managed to coax them onto the rear wheels of the van. We made it down the hill safely, and then discovered that taking off the chains was an even muckier and more difficult than putting them on. We decided at that point that we’d make do without them for the rest of our journey around New Zealand.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkw3nVyNQoL8l_-9y5r-eBEiIO2nApmu3HKdCnVMckztIaGVBt_kxFhwnCpxQpmOvNGQpomZrXhBGuD2zEkj_6Bi6meh1jnhU6s9ExXOnbBq1RKnA9aDA-4gkuIKPGuxE31goXdSZl6WQ/s1600-h/SNV32174.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkw3nVyNQoL8l_-9y5r-eBEiIO2nApmu3HKdCnVMckztIaGVBt_kxFhwnCpxQpmOvNGQpomZrXhBGuD2zEkj_6Bi6meh1jnhU6s9ExXOnbBq1RKnA9aDA-4gkuIKPGuxE31goXdSZl6WQ/s320/SNV32174.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222708966496622322" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD34V01w8b2iqm9iQAOazs8LKeA6S05tq9HrBU-1HDomCOAUhy3YQ2cj6ujJvTkktbolABn2d-dDsMnxc60_5ZJNpsBF6SaqSeQzdpTkVR2-qn7RDOdGzjqC7B2T76gy04VYQo-cpyPIw/s1600-h/SNV32187.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD34V01w8b2iqm9iQAOazs8LKeA6S05tq9HrBU-1HDomCOAUhy3YQ2cj6ujJvTkktbolABn2d-dDsMnxc60_5ZJNpsBF6SaqSeQzdpTkVR2-qn7RDOdGzjqC7B2T76gy04VYQo-cpyPIw/s320/SNV32187.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222708972757736098" /></a><br /><br />From Queenstown we drove north up to Wanaka and stopped for lunch. We then drove on up to Franz Josef village via the Haast Pass stopping off at Thunder Creek and Fantail Falls on our way. The Franz Josef village was our base for touring the magnificent Franz Josef and Fox Glaciers. These glaciers are unusual in that that they flow very rapidly (well, for a glacier anyway) through rainforests. The last thing you expect to see in the middle of a rainforest is a 14 kilometre mass of moving ice. We walked up to the Fox Glacier unguided in the morning, and in the afternoon we joined a tour of the Franz Josef glacier which took us up onto the ice mass. Climbing the glacier was a fantastic experience, and with the aid of crampons and tough hiking books we navigated up and over the glacier and even through tight crevices in the ice. Our return trip from the Glacier involved crossing an icy cold stream which filled our boots and left us with mild frostbite.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4AyAEzYGVT1wokIih-wIXT_grfBe-8t_G736q32VlB4EseVh2vtLMfE9beTpZpCT7w30xKjir28qGjHkJlsdapp5T74ilelZUXt0lrQymJ_QrtsDz2rx03On81M5mjgv8zPL7sPvJLzs/s1600-h/IMG_2177.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4AyAEzYGVT1wokIih-wIXT_grfBe-8t_G736q32VlB4EseVh2vtLMfE9beTpZpCT7w30xKjir28qGjHkJlsdapp5T74ilelZUXt0lrQymJ_QrtsDz2rx03On81M5mjgv8zPL7sPvJLzs/s320/IMG_2177.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222708962341118690" /></a><br /><br />From the glaciers we drove further north to Hamner Springs, with a night’s stopover in the seaside town of Greymouth. Greymouth was a rainy version of Blackpool (with less glamour), and we felt the name was appropriate for this overcast town. Hamner Springs is home to thermal pools, and was a great end to our travels in Lucy. We spent several hours soaking in the hot mineral pools, before indulging in a sauna to dry ourselves off.<br /><br />We dropped Lucy off in Christchurch the following morning and then made our way to the airport to catch a flight up to Auckland. Initially we thought we’d made a huge mistake by choosing to tour New Zealand’s south island in a campervan during the middle of winter, but it worked out really well. The van gave us the freedom to go where we wanted, when we wanted. We also quickly learnt how to keep ourselves reasonably warm in the van even when the temperatures outside were sub-zero. Furthermore, our van was fitted out with a microwave, fridge and gas hob, which meant we could save ourselves money by not eating out.<br /><br />In Auckland we decided to go in search of some local culture, and found some in the form of a local comedy club. An extremely drunken kiwi heckler called Errol taught us that the key ingredient in Kiwi culture is alcohol. Its probably inaccurate to describe Errol as a heckler though, because he wasn’t so much abusing the comedians as conducting a slurred interview of them from his spot in the audience. Nobody in the room (including the comedians) was sure if Errol was just drunk or mentally disabled, and eventually they staff had to pretend that the show was over in order to get rid of him.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPFEHfgrDQvFO-GyB1CaBBrymSGHjqDaPPH29VfgoF1xHng5F8yUTn_K_MTEbeJ6VL6b-z0kTMlH4sdQCOai7lR633oRfPtyaHWbaM1CUS18Z7ebL2MnZBP0O7gKbhoJJUFxML67vGHzk/s1600-h/SNV32198.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPFEHfgrDQvFO-GyB1CaBBrymSGHjqDaPPH29VfgoF1xHng5F8yUTn_K_MTEbeJ6VL6b-z0kTMlH4sdQCOai7lR633oRfPtyaHWbaM1CUS18Z7ebL2MnZBP0O7gKbhoJJUFxML67vGHzk/s320/SNV32198.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222708973277865298" /></a><br /><br />On our second day in Auckland we ascended the SkyTower (the highest structure in the southern hemisphere) in the morning, and went to a Maori song and dance demonstration at the Auckland museum in the afternoon. We then picked up a rental car and drove up to Paihia in the Bay of Islands that evening, and checked into the wonderfully cosy Mousetrap hostel.<br /><br />We continued our pursuit of New Zealand wildlife the following morning by going on a dolphin watching cruise in the bay. The dolphins remained elusive though, so we weren’t able to swim with them as planned. We were, however, treated to some beautiful scenery and some angry weather as we island-hopped around the bay. Just north of Paihia is the Waitangi treaty ground. The Waitangi Treaty made New Zealand a part of the British Empire, guaranteed Māori rights to their land and gave Māori the rights of British citizens. A Frenchman had been on the verge of claiming New Zealand for himself, so the British signed the Waitangi treaty in 1840 to spite him.<br /><br />From the Bay of Islands we headed north to Cape Reinga where the Tasman Sea and Pacific Ocean meet to generate huge waves and some seriously windy weather. We then drove onwards to the Kauri forest to check out some big trees, and make a visit to the Kauri Museum in Matakohe. This was far more interesting than it sounds on paper, with the highlight being an animatronic tree cutter called Trevor that scared the living bejesus out of Tara when he came to life. From the museum we drove ourselves back to Auckland to catch our flight to Santiago, Chile.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkLXUMvfYfVzUMjImQ8pH_e3WRvIk8vTpHMkaXTwPekFYTDZ1Saf6BvzglchZT3E_K_AMa2xNnB27GK7Pn9j-POlP7bUckbjv5ydZC4jHLPA9k3ydwapn3GFkM5M362zB7qUFKNQsJJdo/s1600-h/IMG_2258.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkLXUMvfYfVzUMjImQ8pH_e3WRvIk8vTpHMkaXTwPekFYTDZ1Saf6BvzglchZT3E_K_AMa2xNnB27GK7Pn9j-POlP7bUckbjv5ydZC4jHLPA9k3ydwapn3GFkM5M362zB7qUFKNQsJJdo/s320/IMG_2258.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222708963004589170" /></a><br /><br />New Zealand was a lot of fun, and despite our initial temperature-related apprehension we really enjoyed touring around in a campervan. Travelling in New Zealand was a little bit too easy though, and we’re looking forward to getting out of our comfort zones again in South America. The language-barrier alone is going to a challenge, as we can’t remember a thing from the 8-week Spanish class that we took before we left.Gazboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409828705848059241noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1186672861019795415.post-39501830990949052042008-06-22T02:26:00.002-07:002008-12-10T02:34:02.694-08:00Sydney and Final Thoughts about AustraliaAfter a good nights sleep and some strong coffee, we started the final leg of our journey with Kitty (our rental car in case you haven’t read any of the previous blog entries). We arrived into Sydney at midday and made a beeline for Opera house and Bridge that Sydney is so well-known for. They did not disappoint. The bridge is huge, and on the rare occasion that you forget it is there it almost scares you when you turn around and notice it again. The Sydney Opera House is equally impressive, and we took in a tour of the building to learn a bit about its history. After our tour we climbed one of the pylons of the bridge to get some stereotypical Australia photos, before heading into the centre of town to meet Tara’s cousin Philip. We had a few warm-up drinks together before giving Australian Wagamamas another shot. Thankfully the Chicken Katsu Curry was as good as London this time, so we celebrated with another 12 or 13 beers. We eventually stumbled back into Eva’s Backpacker Hostel in Kings Cross at about 2am. Kings Cross is the native habitat of Sydney prostitutes, so our walk home that night reminded us very much of the journey home to our flat in London.<br /><br />On day two we slept off our hangovers in the morning, and then ventured out to Bondi. We did a spot of shopping in Bondi junction, and then walked down to the beach to watch the surf. That evening we ventured over to The Rocks (an area near the bridge in Sydney) and managed to locate a good pint of Guiness in the Mercantile Hotel bar (who says it doesn’t travel well?!). We then grabbed some dinner before heading home for some much needed sleep.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL0I6IsQyiMoECsZvxAH0sdvujofepGpLtdbsY6u0uAggoyGprypLP9K8wF9jcUIXm2fACPuknvawpZ-jQ68BVI72yeAUsVIu7bc6-xiA34a7NoeHp-4w36KY88TqLhhnapA8RSxwKS9o/s1600-h/Sydney_Gaz_Tara.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL0I6IsQyiMoECsZvxAH0sdvujofepGpLtdbsY6u0uAggoyGprypLP9K8wF9jcUIXm2fACPuknvawpZ-jQ68BVI72yeAUsVIu7bc6-xiA34a7NoeHp-4w36KY88TqLhhnapA8RSxwKS9o/s320/Sydney_Gaz_Tara.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215335554762871026" /></a><br /><br />On day three in Sydney we walked the Harbour Bridge and visited the old-school amusement rides at Luna Park. We then caught a ferry back across the harbour, and spent the afternoon museum hopping. We started off in the Museum of Contemporary Art and then walked through to Botanical Gardens to the Museum of New South Wales. After a quick pit-stop at our hostel, we set off for Philip’s apartment and the promise of our first home-cooked meal for three months. Gaz was concerned that Philip may have similar culinary skills to Tara (who can’t cook toast), but he was blown away by how good the dinner was. The main course consisted of sweet potato & onion with slow-roasted chicken, and for dessert we had profiteroles with chocolate sauce. All of which were homemade. Clearly Philip has picked up a thing or two from Aunty Kathleen. After dinner we set out into town for more drinks, and eventually stumbled home to our hostel at 2am again. You can no doubt see a recurring theme in our nights out with Philip.<br /><br />We spent most of our final morning in Australia trying to sleep off our hangovers. This wasn’t proving very effective though so we dragged ourselves down to Harry’s Cafe de Wheels in Wooloomooloo for an injection of greasy food, and that seemed to do the trick. We then wandered up to Mrs Macquaries Chair in the botanical gardens (a spot which Gaz had been unsuccessfully trying to navigate us to for two days), before catching a ferry over to Manly. We spent most of the afternoon just soaking up the atmosphere in Manly, before returning to the hostel to wash some clothes and pack our bags for the last time in Australia.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS3lMEN6MCtrFQ-LRb8CoZ_OXI6cCTxTYHHBzt6cWaLFIQFXHhE0nf3VkInH9z9bjeKRveKUM6PUi9rZ7qXX5kMoTZjfY5wJXA7jk5jOXn1_NmqrBOOgB5quOYhlY2gRKuK9tL5m5VJ9U/s1600-h/Sydney_Gaz.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS3lMEN6MCtrFQ-LRb8CoZ_OXI6cCTxTYHHBzt6cWaLFIQFXHhE0nf3VkInH9z9bjeKRveKUM6PUi9rZ7qXX5kMoTZjfY5wJXA7jk5jOXn1_NmqrBOOgB5quOYhlY2gRKuK9tL5m5VJ9U/s320/Sydney_Gaz.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215335324954856306" /></a><br /><br />When we started our travels in Australia we concerned that our journey here would be tainted by drunken school-leavers on this well-trodden backpacker route. We couldn’t have been more wrong though. Our five weeks in Australia have been amazing, and we’ve made some great friends. Its hard to pick a single highlight because so many parts of the trip have been amazing for different reasons. Uluru was breathtakingly beautiful, our skydive was exhilarating, and on Fraser Island were in a fantastic group of like-minded (drunken) people that I’ve no doubt we will meet again back in the UK.<br /><br />Our next stop is New Zealand. Here’s hoping that it will be as much fun as Oz was.Gazboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409828705848059241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1186672861019795415.post-52400892123267562392008-06-22T02:26:00.001-07:002008-12-10T02:34:02.859-08:00Hunter ValleyThe Hunter Valley is one of the premium wine areas in Australia, so we decided to sign up for a Wine Rover tour of the area. The tour cost us only AUS$40 each, and from a value for money perspective it was one of the best things that we’ve done in Oz. They took us to four different wineries (mostly petite wineries that only sell at their cellar door), a liquor barn, a cheese maker, a chocolatier, and a brewery. The last winery that we visited had a Breathalyzer for guests to try, and Gaz’s reading was ten times the legal driving limit so it was a successful day in that respect.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjriYZa8BubZnmAZyT36R2Di8CVwdRjGqBLfZlyi4kWPJuWjcD05438VjZ98NyrPPnn4musCuPH80y7R3Mhy8yDFNwD0Ftq_OzuJTwrSk_CctdKXL0sPuBaixgCmLdQ1-olhQbElYHE2MM/s1600-h/Hunter_Valley_Tara.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjriYZa8BubZnmAZyT36R2Di8CVwdRjGqBLfZlyi4kWPJuWjcD05438VjZ98NyrPPnn4musCuPH80y7R3Mhy8yDFNwD0Ftq_OzuJTwrSk_CctdKXL0sPuBaixgCmLdQ1-olhQbElYHE2MM/s320/Hunter_Valley_Tara.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215334695982319250" /></a>Gazboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409828705848059241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1186672861019795415.post-46004605274486743162008-06-22T02:25:00.001-07:002008-06-22T02:25:36.577-07:00Surfers Paradise, Nimbin and Byron BayFrom Brisbane we headed south to Surfers Paradise where we spent the morning hanging out on the beach. After a quick bite to eat in the Surf Club we hit the road again and drove to the hippy hangout of Nimbin. This is a town in the middle of nowhere that has become home to a collection of stoned hippies. Unfortunately most of the locals were too high to turn up to work on the day that we visited, so most of the points of interest were closed. We did however visit the Hemp Museum where they extolled the virtues of hemp, and were fighting a slow and unsuccessful battle to legalise marijuana in Australia. We couldn’t help but notice that most of the locals seemed a little bit troubled (mentally) and paranoid, so paradoxically they we’re probably providing a reasonably good case for ensuring that the drug remains illegal in Australia. After Nimbin we drove back towards the coast and stopped briefly in Byron Bay to take some photos of their lighthouse at sunset, before starting on the first leg of our long drive down to Hunter Valley. To break up the long drive we spent the night in the The Abbey Motel in Grafton. The next day we stopped off in Port Macquarie for a wander around the harbour and bit of shopping, before eventually arriving in at our YHA in Cessnock (the main town in South Hunter Valley).Gazboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409828705848059241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1186672861019795415.post-44258316145597365632008-06-22T02:24:00.002-07:002008-12-10T02:34:03.290-08:00Australia Zoo and Brisbane<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSMdVMD79BKULWoHMrCNOwH06TG9dBlI6nOfgVjKDtAB8hc-IoNfhlhm6VjiVXkqXVTqzml2G-KYX4ZNtBGp7ak4pzJHVRJBGLQrFVBceJEat0Dn7unlH0W-aJs5q_ruDZwtMq-dm2D0k/s1600-h/Oz_Zoo_Tara.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSMdVMD79BKULWoHMrCNOwH06TG9dBlI6nOfgVjKDtAB8hc-IoNfhlhm6VjiVXkqXVTqzml2G-KYX4ZNtBGp7ak4pzJHVRJBGLQrFVBceJEat0Dn7unlH0W-aJs5q_ruDZwtMq-dm2D0k/s320/Oz_Zoo_Tara.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215333581543734050" /></a><br />Enroute to Brisbane we stopped off at Australia Zoo. This was another one of our highlights in Australia. Gaz has always been partial to a good zoo, and Australia Zoo is one of the very best. Steve Irwin's animals are all very tame, which means you can wander into some of the enclosures and feed or pet the animals. We fed and pet Koalas, Kangaroos and even an Elephant. We also visited the famous Crocaseum where Steve Irwin used to do his shows prior to losing that fateful fight with a Stingray.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBi-GGrB7Od6PV5BdulTzEaZ5IOUTSprPEydfLcdfUxOkSTidR0ZmtaV_TPMMWa4Vf7hfmHj5QU1tJqI-60avEN8V8WQUnXve1ls7-Kk5Rvk9DJhLQi2YIRT5XBVTI-r1dxUXLDH5_GuU/s1600-h/Oz_Zoo_Gaz.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBi-GGrB7Od6PV5BdulTzEaZ5IOUTSprPEydfLcdfUxOkSTidR0ZmtaV_TPMMWa4Vf7hfmHj5QU1tJqI-60avEN8V8WQUnXve1ls7-Kk5Rvk9DJhLQi2YIRT5XBVTI-r1dxUXLDH5_GuU/s320/Oz_Zoo_Gaz.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215333745957055218" /></a><br /><br />In spite of travelling to some remote destinations, we’ve found that there are relatively few things that we craved from home that we couldn’t get hold of. However, the one thing that we’ve both been pining for the most (with the exception of friends & family of course), is a Wagamama’s Chicken Katsu Curry. Thankfully a little bit of internet research had helped us to locate a Wagamamas in Brisbane. Unfortunately the Brisbanites have murdered the Katsu curry. Dejected, we ventured out onto the streets of Brisbane looking for something to cheer us up. Unfortunately for Gaz, Tara found something to cheer herself up very quickly so we spent the remainder of the evening watching the Sex in the City movie. The only saving grace for Gaz was that Carrie’s wedding rehearsal dinner in the movie was held in a restaurant called Buddakan. This is the same restaurant that Gaz took Tara too for her birthday last year, so he earned some much needed brownie points without even trying.Gazboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409828705848059241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1186672861019795415.post-61729186428017030292008-06-22T02:24:00.001-07:002008-12-10T02:34:03.890-08:00Rainbow Beach & Fraser Island<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixNGA2HIKeRM2NOl-0tj-4s-I4zLTZKCLzEsR8qVOlZc8fofxtlpMt5DLReEVZTa_u4Ja85QtBN2QigoFTi5KO_0i2AMi9YyKlx9CTXTNIcaPIKT7P8P3r4gKVM9f-0cud9ZUQxW8ey5M/s1600-h/Fraser_Shipwreck.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixNGA2HIKeRM2NOl-0tj-4s-I4zLTZKCLzEsR8qVOlZc8fofxtlpMt5DLReEVZTa_u4Ja85QtBN2QigoFTi5KO_0i2AMi9YyKlx9CTXTNIcaPIKT7P8P3r4gKVM9f-0cud9ZUQxW8ey5M/s320/Fraser_Shipwreck.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215331077345842306" /></a><br />In a moment of lunacy, we’d booked ourselves onto a Fraser Island tour starting two days after our Whitsunday tour had finished. This meant that we had just one afternoon and one morning to cover the 900kms between Airlie Beach and Rainbow Beach. This may shock some of you, but even Tara didn’t have enough chat to keep us going on that journey. After night in a motel in Miriam Vale and a dinner in the Big Red Crab restaurant, we arrived into Rainbow Beach with an hour to spare before our Fraser tour briefing. After the briefing, we stocked up on Goon (wine in a carton) and beer and said our farewells to Kitty (she wasn’t quite up to the offroad terrain on Fraser Island). The next morning we set off for Fraser Island in our Toyota Landcruiser with nine strangers. The next 48 hours were the best of our trip so far. Our group consisted of three northern girls (Sarah, Taria, and Claire), a gay couple from London (Danny and Richard), a trio of lone travellers that had met in Melbourne (Alice, Ali and Gabby), and a german girl whose name I’ve chosen to forget already. Everybody in our group got on really well, and we quickly bonded with the help of Gaz’s cheesy iPod. We made our way up to Lake MacKenzie where we annoyed the rest of the beach with an impromptu game of rounders, before heading back down to the beach and setting up camp for the night. We made a good dent into our goon stash that evening, and we awoke the next morning with some monumental hangovers. With the aid of some Paracetamols we managed to pack up the van and drive up to the Maheno shipwreck for some photos, before driving up to the lookout at Indian Head at the northern tip of Fraser Island. Gaz also went for a stroll up to the champagne pools, before we re-boarded the jeep and made our way south to set up camp. That night we introduced the rest of the group to the Goon Train game, so the next morning we awoke once again to insistent hangovers. In spite of this we managed to trek up to Lake Wabby that morning for a quick dip, before catching a barge back to the mainland. After a quick powernap in the hostel our group reunited for dinner, and as was now traditional we hit the goon again. The hostel wouldn’t let us drink on the premises so we relegated to the bus shelter outside the hostel, which somehow added to the fun. We were sad to say goodbye to our new friends the next day, but the open road was calling so we set off in Kitty for the bright lights of Brisbane.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQVvOebF18S6FSdqcSIzwC8tZrqjFHtten6J8D1TJtj7LKBvlKknPgea57eYPKOAYhR8VlCFYoiHoIiSMWrU1zSh2CTQ5Uin535C6kouwg7cJvGFvnXKEWOwuD59LNJL7wk3F6dQeqeV0/s1600-h/Fraser_Mackenzie_Group.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQVvOebF18S6FSdqcSIzwC8tZrqjFHtten6J8D1TJtj7LKBvlKknPgea57eYPKOAYhR8VlCFYoiHoIiSMWrU1zSh2CTQ5Uin535C6kouwg7cJvGFvnXKEWOwuD59LNJL7wk3F6dQeqeV0/s320/Fraser_Mackenzie_Group.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215331639011508754" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2XJ-ui_l563UQ6_sGJYG7J-0_TstP_o2nD0MDuKRQqNWYONHnzrhAqQtQatyIK94u6YiPQxVSlsshJwsoA5CMt9LJA2S2xJOZ1X4t0TGeeW3gSpLM7THFiUu2vI-0XqXYV1Hzh6UNxVg/s1600-h/Fraser_Mask_Shot.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2XJ-ui_l563UQ6_sGJYG7J-0_TstP_o2nD0MDuKRQqNWYONHnzrhAqQtQatyIK94u6YiPQxVSlsshJwsoA5CMt9LJA2S2xJOZ1X4t0TGeeW3gSpLM7THFiUu2vI-0XqXYV1Hzh6UNxVg/s320/Fraser_Mask_Shot.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215331376263257058" /></a>Gazboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409828705848059241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1186672861019795415.post-46597505137462767132008-06-22T02:23:00.000-07:002008-06-22T02:24:12.233-07:00Airlie Beach & WhitsundaysAfter a short ferry ride back to Townsville, we got back into Kitty and started making our way south down to Airlie Beach. Airlie Beach is the gateway to the Whitsunday Islands, so after another night in a grim hostel we boarded our boat and set sail. Our sailing boat, The British Defender, was an 83ft veteran of the round-the-world yacht race. We spent our first afternoon out at sea and eventually arrived in darkness at Whitehaven beach. We moored at Whitehaven for the night and then spent the next morning on the breathtaking Whitehaven beach. The sand on Whitehaven beach is over 99% silicon and was used to create the lenses in the Hubble Telescope. From Whitehaven we sailed round to Tongue Bay were went on a bushwalk up to a lookout point. From Tongue Bay we sailed north and spent the afternoon and early evening snorkeling in Mantaray Bay, Maureens Cove and Blue Pearl Bay. We had planned on scuba diving whilst we were on the Whitsundays but our boat didn’t cross the path of the dive boat, so we had to miss out on this. The snorkeling was fantastic though, so we don’t think we missed out on too much. After a night moored in Blue Pearl Bay we made our way back to Airlie Beach. Despite being blessed with calm seas and stunning weather, Gaz never quite found his sea legs so he was glad to be back on solid ground. Irrespective of this, we still had great fun on the boat. The food was great, we made some great new friends, and we learnt a new drinking game (The Goon Train). The sailing itself was also a lot of fun and we both really enjoyed sailing along at a 45° angle as the waves crashed against the boat.Gazboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409828705848059241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1186672861019795415.post-66587175278432616282008-06-22T02:19:00.000-07:002008-12-10T02:34:04.094-08:00Magnetic IslandAfter a very short ferry ride from Townsville, we found ourselves on Magnetic Island. Our accommodation for the next two nights was the flashpacker Xbase hostel. On the surface the hostel looked great as it had a pool, a large deck, laundry and kitchen. Unfortunately it was missing one key element, an overzealous perfectionist owner (preferably German). Hostels just don’t work properly unless they are officiously run by sadistic old lady. Xbase was a case in point. After checking into Xbase, we went to our dorm room and discovered that our beds had been slept in, so we went back to reception and informed the disinterested child behind the desk. His response was, “How bad are they?”. It took another forty minutes of debating before they would supply us with clean sheets. We spent that night drinking in the hostel, and our blurry vision helped us to forget just how filthy our accommodation was.<br /><br />The next day we decided to go and rent some bicycles so that we could tour the island. After 40 minutes walking in the blazing sunshine we found the bike rental shop and walked right passed it. It wasn’t the right weather for any kind of physical exertion. We then happened upon the Moke rental outlet, which suited our requirements better so we hired one of those instead. For those of you not familiar with a Moke; try to imagine the offspring of a forty-year old army jeep and a Mini. We toured Magnetic Island in the Moke from Horseshoe Bay in the north down to Picnic Bay in the south. After all our exertion we decided that we deserved a nice dinner so we went to the local pizzeria and sat down outside to enjoy our feast. Within minutes we were invaded by a possum, a curlew and a Labrador; all of whom we’re keen for a slice. The Australian wildlife is far more forthcoming than we’d like.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTn_9UlJ9Vx9b75faBBqkmSuOAJn0yMceva08HKqaRRW5Ihe0MigBbYNh24UceFDJl5lbDGL-pzgoAmprX4ANPSmLdMLsVYuShjX8F8CmQT1PEv4K6GkzaNq6v6jnpCAYHu5tct_gwlx4/s1600-h/Magnetic_Island_Tara_Gaz.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTn_9UlJ9Vx9b75faBBqkmSuOAJn0yMceva08HKqaRRW5Ihe0MigBbYNh24UceFDJl5lbDGL-pzgoAmprX4ANPSmLdMLsVYuShjX8F8CmQT1PEv4K6GkzaNq6v6jnpCAYHu5tct_gwlx4/s320/Magnetic_Island_Tara_Gaz.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215334407237201410" /></a><br /><br />The following morning we drove down to the Bungalow Bay Koala Village for breakfast. This was the highlight of our time on the island. Not only were we given a fantastic breakfast, but we also got to share our table with a variety of different animals including Crocodiles, Snakes, Koalas and Frogs. On reflection, this wasn’t all that different from our dinner the previous night.Gazboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409828705848059241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1186672861019795415.post-66191243569943491102008-06-05T01:25:00.002-07:002008-06-05T01:26:05.977-07:00TownsvilleFrom Mission Beach we drove down to Townsville, where we spent a night in a Bournemouth-esque chintzy bed and breakfast called Coral Lodge. We spent a day in Townsville where we strolled along the esplanade and visited the excellent Reef HQ aquarium. In the evening we caught the Ferry over to Magnetic Island and checked into the XBase flashpacker hostel, which I will write more about in my next post.Gazboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409828705848059241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1186672861019795415.post-83359439917098161512008-06-05T01:25:00.001-07:002008-06-05T01:25:25.190-07:00Mission BeachMission Beach was a welcome change from Cairns. Its a far more relaxed place, and the Absolute Backpackers hostel that we checked into was excellent. They actively encouraged travellers to bring in their own booze, and the large communal kitchen and eating area made it easy to make new friends. On our first day in Mission Beach we went white-water rafting on the grade 4 rapids of the Tully River. Here Gaz learnt the hard way that Tara doesn’t react well in a crisis. On one of the first major rapids of the day, David (one of our fellow rafters) lost his grip on the raft and tumbled out of the boat taking Gaz with him. Whilst Gaz attempted to scramble back onto the raft, Tara looked on in panic but didn’t feel the urge to help him into the boat. It was left to the instructor to scramble across the raft and pull Gaz to safety. It was a great day nonetheless though and we’d thoroughly recommend it to anyone. On our second day in Mission beach we decided to throw ourselves out of an aeroplane from 14,000ft with an Australian attached to our backs. Fortunately both of our Australians had remembered to attach parachutes to their own backs so we were in safe hands. Tara took all of this in her stride as she’d done this before, but Gaz was terrified to begin with. For Gaz the 20 minute ascent to 14,000ft is what Alex Ferguson would probably describe as “squeaky-bum time”. The 60 seconds of freefall was nothing short of amazing though, and quite possibly the best single experience of our trip so far. Two-days later the adrenalin is still pumping round our bodies.Gazboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409828705848059241noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1186672861019795415.post-64151760679457263202008-06-05T01:24:00.001-07:002008-06-05T01:24:42.323-07:00CairnsIt was in Cairns that we first realized that the East Coast of Australia is preferred habitat of the 18-year-old British school-leaver. We both felt ancient in Cairns. The majority of these travellers are dragging wheelie bags behind them, which contain untold luxuries such as Jimmy Choo shoes and GHDs. This wasn’t quite what we’d expected to see on our travels. Cairns had little to offer to us, as the Lagoon was closed for refurbishment and the bars reminded us of 18-30 holidays in Spain with condom inflating games being played by the younglings. The highlight of Cairns for us was Kuranda, which is a town up in the rainforest above Cairns. We caught a cable car up to the town, and took the scenic train back down to Cairns. Whilst up in Kuranda, Gaz had a short digeredoo lesson and splashed out on an expensive piece of hollow tree. We were glad to be collecting a rental car on our third day in Cairns so that we could start making our way down the coast. The Nissan granny car that we were given wasn’t exactly what we’d been hoping for, but we've grown to love her and we named her Kitty on our journey down to Mission Beach.Gazboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409828705848059241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1186672861019795415.post-9691704491317091782008-06-05T01:22:00.000-07:002008-12-10T02:34:05.216-08:00Uluru<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilkCNa4Eg1ceeFzEMMHsVUTkMPkvKFay0TUKsMV3NwOpXGMNWMOWp89Br0QZXJjuhxsgWKWwr3o7mYvzJXcHhLTMGfM6S_5jbC2VOMuHORO9CRJyE9gMqjJ64PSYA61Ii7Mn902vSVxhM/s1600-h/Ayers_Rock_Tara_Gaz.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilkCNa4Eg1ceeFzEMMHsVUTkMPkvKFay0TUKsMV3NwOpXGMNWMOWp89Br0QZXJjuhxsgWKWwr3o7mYvzJXcHhLTMGfM6S_5jbC2VOMuHORO9CRJyE9gMqjJ64PSYA61Ii7Mn902vSVxhM/s320/Ayers_Rock_Tara_Gaz.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215337881333164786" /></a><br />The following day we joined a two-day tour of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Uluru</span> (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Ayer</span>’s Rock) and King’s Canyon. When we first boarded our bus we were disappointed to see that our tour group comprised of a retired Italian-Australian couple, a non-English speaking Korean student and a cake-loving Brazilian doctor. We were not expecting much fun. Thankfully it turned out that the Italian-Australian couple, Mario and Lynne, where unintentionally hilarious and kept us well entertained. Lynne was suffering from some mild form of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">tourettes</span> and barely 15 minutes would pass on the bus without her shouting “DINGO!” or “SPECTACLE!” at the top of her voice. Mario was in control of the volume of his voice but was outspoken in a different way. His comments to us about the Aborigines are probably best not repeated on this blog, but kept us amused over dinner. Our two-day tour was expensive but we felt it was money well spent. On the first day we walked the rim of King’s Canyon, and our guide Siobhan taught us a lot about Aboriginal culture (much to Mario’s derision). We stayed the night at Mt Ebeneezer cattle station, before rejoining the bus for our tour of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Uluru</span>. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Scotty</span> and Tic where our guides for the second day, and were a comedy double-act that kept us well entertained. Aborigines consider <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Uluru</span> to be a sacred site and prefer that visitors don’t climb the rock, however climbing is not prohibited, so <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Gaz</span> took up the opportunity to scale the rock. It was much harder than he’d expected though, and out of the six people that started the climb from our bus only <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Gaz</span> and the Korean made it to the top. We spent that night in the overpriced <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Ayer</span>’s Rock resort (Old Pioneer’s hotel), before catching our flight to Cairns the next morning.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDc-9hdWQXTE4kkhG1u5X66xU4rUdWLqdP-Y4MmVbpZE7lesWZ-9SZIP9ZcTxhol8jdALAe7sChsa64EdtLYsqlqTIkP8rUGgYkFyRciNFtiddjBgU__-06DwYLncdhQs37BO_VYo9WPg/s1600-h/Outback_Road.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDc-9hdWQXTE4kkhG1u5X66xU4rUdWLqdP-Y4MmVbpZE7lesWZ-9SZIP9ZcTxhol8jdALAe7sChsa64EdtLYsqlqTIkP8rUGgYkFyRciNFtiddjBgU__-06DwYLncdhQs37BO_VYo9WPg/s320/Outback_Road.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215338728184165954" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxNuVburbwZ2PsdgauwW0h8lOG_V06gM6M4bdYwCe8ZKPq49i6v5LebHzGrEsuzlJiBN_2JdDofQJUmn7k6PSyP32Z6pV2nkhenD1bvStwfVoXMRXNv3ceFI3ERqnnQXB71931O6G0CZc/s1600-h/Ayers_Rock.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxNuVburbwZ2PsdgauwW0h8lOG_V06gM6M4bdYwCe8ZKPq49i6v5LebHzGrEsuzlJiBN_2JdDofQJUmn7k6PSyP32Z6pV2nkhenD1bvStwfVoXMRXNv3ceFI3ERqnnQXB71931O6G0CZc/s320/Ayers_Rock.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215338280095708066" /></a>Gazboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409828705848059241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1186672861019795415.post-83604239956417499012008-06-05T01:21:00.001-07:002008-06-05T01:22:26.532-07:00Darwin & Alice SpringsDue to a calendar malfunction, well, our inability read a calendar anyway, we managed to delay our entry into Australia by 1-day. As a result, we missed out on spending 24-hours in Perth, and instead we were forced to spend the night of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Gaz</span>’s birthday on the floor of Darwin airport whilst we awaited our connecting flight to Alice Springs. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Gaz</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">wasn</span>’t too disappointed by this as it meant that he could spend the lion’s share of his birthday on the beach in Bali. Not a bad place to turn 28, I think you’ll all agree.<br />After a brief interrogation at the hands of Australian immigration, the next thing that greeted us in Australia was a baggage claim hall over-spilling with American Navy personnel. It was with great pleasure that we knocked over a handful of the smaller American sailors whilst swinging our backpacks onto our shoulders (we were careful not to upset any of the bigger animals). <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Gaz</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">hadn</span>’t had so much fun since he took out a pushy <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Chinaman</span> in Hangzhou train station. After a few hours sleep on the floor of Darwin airport, we boarded a plane to Alice Springs and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">en route</span> we were treated to the most spectacular show as the sun rose over the deserts of Australia. We spent our first morning in Alice Springs catching up on the sleep we’d missed whilst travelling, and then set out to take in the sites of Alice Springs. We were concerned that we’d only budgeted one afternoon to see Alice Springs, but this was more than enough time to see all that the town has to offer. The highlight (for Tara anyway) was a visit to the Flying Doctors museum. One of the things that was most apparent to us in Alice Springs was the friction that existed between the European Australians and the Aborigines. The Australian government only recently apologized for the way that Aborigines have been treated in the past. The government's current policy seems to be to give money to the Aborigines, but rather than improving things this appears to just be generating a lot of alcoholic Aborigines.Gazboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409828705848059241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1186672861019795415.post-35902664022072054632008-05-28T22:27:00.001-07:002008-12-10T02:34:05.669-08:00Bali<div>For the past two months we've been on the move every three days, so we were delighted to be checking into our hotel in Bali for a lengthy seven days. Bali as an island has everything you could ever want (or at least anything <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Gaz</span> could <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">ever</span> want anyway). The island has a varied mixture of landscapes from stunning beaches through green rice fields up to lofty volcanoes. We spent our first two days lying on the beach and learning to surf. Our <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">balinese</span> surf instructors had the patience of saints, which was fortunate because they really needed it in order to teach us how to surf. Fortunately their <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">perseverance</span> paid off though and by the second day <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Gaz</span> was managing to stand-up and ride some waves. Luckily Tara had thrown in the towel by this point so we even have some photos to prove it.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwHbem10lhm2man0aGOfUoyLxEtVH9Sp0-jYTqhLvX8iISQQPHriq3WEGJ-Ne_VMMWXklyoDNJwBQp18Tu4rLQaijNyMCK7Bjq3bb_as8EauU-nnrz-aM7HCNv-WQ75q75ZNeEyCttdbk/s1600-h/BaliGroupSurfShot.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212437204230275890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwHbem10lhm2man0aGOfUoyLxEtVH9Sp0-jYTqhLvX8iISQQPHriq3WEGJ-Ne_VMMWXklyoDNJwBQp18Tu4rLQaijNyMCK7Bjq3bb_as8EauU-nnrz-aM7HCNv-WQ75q75ZNeEyCttdbk/s320/BaliGroupSurfShot.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />We spent our third day on the island underwater, as we tried our hands once again at Scuba diving. We are starting to think that we're not destined to be regular divers because we had another disappointing dive. Bali is <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">renowned</span> for its usually calm seas and and thirty-metre visibility underwater, but this was not the experience that we were treated too. The ocean was so choppy that our boat captain couldn't even make it to the dive site, so instead we had to go a dive site nearer shore. Here we were treated to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">claustrophobic</span> five-metre visibility, but fortunately our dive master had brought some bread down with us to feed the fish and we were soon surrounded by swarms of tropical fish. It was a great experience to have the fish eat out of our hands though we're not convinced that this constitutes the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">unobtrusive</span> diving that was encouraged during our <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">PADI</span> course in Thailand.<br /><br />On the fourth day we hired a scooter and set off to explore the southern tip of Bali. Within 30 minutes of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">setting</span> off, we had our first (and thankfully only) brush with Indonesian corruption. We were flagged down by a police officer and asked to show our license. When <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Gaz</span> showed his UK driving license we were told that its not valid in Bali and that we required an International driving license. We were then told that we'd need to come to a law court tomorrow to sort it out, but for a 150,000 Rupiah bribe the officer was willing to let us off. We'd read about this in the Lonely Planet, so we weren't entirely surprised but it was frustrating nonetheless. So we paid our bribe to the fat police officer and set off again unsure as to how many times we'd have to pay such a bribe. Thankfully this was the only time that we were pulled over, but it took the shine off of what was otherwise a really fun day. We rode down to the Monkey temple in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Uluwatu</span>, where we ambushed by monkeys looking for peanuts, before heading north to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Dreamlands</span> beach. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Dreamlands</span> beach is a surfer's paradise with an amazing break, but was far beyond our surfing skills so we stuck to admiring it from the beach.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLkxjmNgVKS476xZXJUhIziyP2sGaH3pfuoU_IhpR45IZtPR56tU6hBQmJhLk1gaeU071zPy3szG5MtFlaJ_C9aIn3kL4FiJS_JvWsVHxPa0usqohVq59RtGgf8e8i9scLcvF1_MA2ZyA/s1600-h/GazSurfingBali.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212437749747413842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLkxjmNgVKS476xZXJUhIziyP2sGaH3pfuoU_IhpR45IZtPR56tU6hBQmJhLk1gaeU071zPy3szG5MtFlaJ_C9aIn3kL4FiJS_JvWsVHxPa0usqohVq59RtGgf8e8i9scLcvF1_MA2ZyA/s320/GazSurfingBali.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />On our penultimate day we hired a car & driver and went on a tour of the island to see some of the culture that Bali had to offer. We started off our day with a Balinese dance show (which was essentially an Indonesian panto), we then went to some local craft <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">factories</span> (Silver, Batik, and Wood-carving) before heading up the mountain for views of the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">volcano</span> (which we couldn't actually see because we were shrouded in fog). On our way back from the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">volcano</span> we stopped at a coffee plantation, and the rice terraces before finally making our way down to the Monkey Forest in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">Ubud</span> (where we were once again ambushed by over-friendly monkeys).<br /><br />Bali is without doubt <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Gaz's</span> favourite destination so far. The island has so much to offer from mountain hiking through surfing. The beaches are the most stunning that I've ever seen, and the local people are really friendly. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">Furthermore</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">accommodation</span> and food are excellent value especially near <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">Kuta</span> beach, although prices seemed to get higher as you move inland. I'd love to go back. The only things the island needs to get rid of are the corrupt policemen, and the hawkers that put on irritating Australian accents when they're trying to sell you something.</div>Gazboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409828705848059241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1186672861019795415.post-67350649886525875482008-05-28T21:42:00.000-07:002008-12-10T02:34:05.777-08:00Singapore<div>Having spent a few weeks in the more rural parts of South-East Asia, we were quite looking forward to the hustle and bustle of Singapore. Prior to arrival, all we knew of Singapore was that its illegal to chew gum, and that Singaporeans love air-conditioning. We arrived to discover that virtually everything is illegal in Singapore. The whole city is covered with signs telling people what they can't do. We were deeply disappointed to discover that the transportation of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">durians</span> on the Singaporean Metro system is illegal, but Tara was quite relieved to rid herself of the two that she'd smuggled in from Thailand as they were taking up quite a lot of space in her backpack. We only had two days in Singapore, but we managed to squeeze in quite a few sites. We started off with wander around the colonial district of Singapore, taking in their new Arts Theatre, the Singapore Cricket Club and their old parliament building. From there we wandered up through Fort Canning which sits upon a hill in the middle of the city, and over to Orchard Road to indulge in some retail therapy. In the afternoon we caught the cable car over to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Sentosa</span> Island, which is a Singapore's equivalent of Blackpool (a slightly tacky pleasure resort) and also the southern most tip of continental <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Asia</span> (a dubious claim as it is connected to mainland <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Asia</span> via two bridges). Singapore has a beautiful colonial feel to it, which we indulged in by sipping Singapore Slings and Gin & Tonics in one of the many Raffles hotel bars. After that we made our way down to the waterfront which is home to one of the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">livelier</span> parts of town for dinner and drinks.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY61HiMfTIrmnLHuLxbljpphH7fRWjBVRHgH7vdAlWAn9bnf2aU1pXTUOpQ3fUU8bmEgeDpP1Tq2ToaSO4jPaddl9F-DoCvUfqsSUc-yTCu14zYQosCIScZEKtJpCJvRbO3II7hruy9Eo/s1600-h/TaraSingapore.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212438576038324578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY61HiMfTIrmnLHuLxbljpphH7fRWjBVRHgH7vdAlWAn9bnf2aU1pXTUOpQ3fUU8bmEgeDpP1Tq2ToaSO4jPaddl9F-DoCvUfqsSUc-yTCu14zYQosCIScZEKtJpCJvRbO3II7hruy9Eo/s320/TaraSingapore.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The public transport system in Singapore is excellent. Its quick, clean and really easy to navigate. So through a combination of trains and buses, we made our way to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Changi</span> Prison on east side of Singapore Island on our second morning and visited the war museum that is based there. We then went for a brief stroll around Little India (unsurprisingly this is the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Indian</span> quarter of Singapore), before heading out to the airport to catch our flight to Bali. We both really enjoyed Singapore, but it is perhaps a little too sterile. Everything is illegal, and the punishments for breaking any of the laws are extremely harsh. Furthermore, after two days we were beginning to show early signs of frostbite from the arctic air-conditioning so we were glad to be moving onto the beach paradise of Bali.</div>Gazboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409828705848059241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1186672861019795415.post-51198423601684071712008-05-14T03:17:00.000-07:002008-12-10T02:34:06.911-08:00Thailand - Chiang Mai and the IslandsThe <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">UK's</span> Foreign Office website states that "Travel by Lao Airlines is strongly discouraged". So it was with some relief that we safely touched down in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Chiang</span> Mai (Thailand) aboard Lao Airlines flight <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">QV</span>645. We made the short journey from the airport to the Seven Suns guesthouse and were somewhat bemused to discover that we'd been given their rainbow-themed room. Clearly <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Gaz</span> must have sounded somewhat camp on the telephone when he made the room booking. The guesthouse was also somewhat unique in that it seemed to actively encourage guests to bring back any Thai ladies (or lady-boys for that matter) whom they'd met whilst out on the town. Whilst in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Chiang</span> Mai, we indulged in some <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">traditionally</span> backpacker excursions such as a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Thai</span> cookery course, and a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Muay </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Thai </span>boxing evening. The cookery course was a lot of fun and we learnt to cook a number of delicious dishes including Green & Red Thai curry, Pad Thai, Chicken with Cashew Nuts, and Chicken with Basil. However, la creme <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">de</span> la creme of our cooking exploits was Tara's spring rolls, which no doubt she will be forcing you all to try upon our return. The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Muay</span> Thai boxing was somewhat disturbing as the first three fights involved children no older that 12 kicking lumps out of each other. This was then followed by an exhibition bout where they blind-folded six fighters and then left them to blindly punch each other until only the victor was <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">conscious</span>. Even the referee of this bout was on the receiving end of some <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">vicious</span> blows. When we thought it could get no worse they then brought out some female fighters, which was when things got really <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">ugly</span>. Once all the fighting was over, it was then the turn of the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">lady boys</span> to take to the blood soaked boxing ring and entertain the crowds. A fitting end to a bizarre yet strangely riveting evening.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXye-tDB6Rs7SrHo8paPS7hDDojGM7E21KmdtbMgfBgcBGgBOy49Sk7rH4nl0nJIVlWZjz10dKhyFOY-owC5fQvepgTn3cTVI63VEImrmc8CYkjG4XgmtVV9jsV_85EwDhK0ZET5qxjis/s1600-h/GazThaiBoxersChiangMai.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXye-tDB6Rs7SrHo8paPS7hDDojGM7E21KmdtbMgfBgcBGgBOy49Sk7rH4nl0nJIVlWZjz10dKhyFOY-owC5fQvepgTn3cTVI63VEImrmc8CYkjG4XgmtVV9jsV_85EwDhK0ZET5qxjis/s320/GazThaiBoxersChiangMai.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212439399231679602" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw52pi3UIydE1I5CpKxupARljP7CDtkHF-io4nkdRUTSBryWUyrzaExRpATMc4OTakzsZHwbZgx6LI-hEHplK1pBjaG-h1_GhTFciruKw2rbI-xpjYQ0xvdCkonJahmaGfxlUfisEXC08/s1600-h/ChiangMaiCooking.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw52pi3UIydE1I5CpKxupARljP7CDtkHF-io4nkdRUTSBryWUyrzaExRpATMc4OTakzsZHwbZgx6LI-hEHplK1pBjaG-h1_GhTFciruKw2rbI-xpjYQ0xvdCkonJahmaGfxlUfisEXC08/s320/ChiangMaiCooking.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212439236813262674" /></a><br /><br />From <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Chiang</span> Mai we then flew down to the island paradise of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Ko</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">Samui</span>. We checked into a hotel called <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Montien</span> House, which is by far the most luxurious place that we've stayed <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">thus far</span>, with the only downside being that we had to share our room with some particularly hungry mosquitoes. We spent our first day lounging around on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">Chaweng</span> beach and also made good use of the pool in our hotel. On the second day we rented a scooter and went beach hopping around <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">Ko</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">Samui</span>. We also managed to coax our wheezing two-wheeler up to the Na <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">Muang</span> waterfall, and some of the highest points on the island. According to the Thailand Lonely Planet, the only noteworthy site on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">Ko</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">Samui</span> (excluding the beaches) is a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">mummified</span> monk at Wat <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">Khunaram</span>, so naturally we had to go and see him. The monk is preserved in a glass case and sits in the lotus position with a pair of sunglasses perched on his nose. Outside the temple a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">Buddhist</span> monk insisted on throwing some holy water on us, before charging us 50 baht to tie some string around our wrists. We were told that the string would protect us whilst we are travelling, so we were somewhat disappointed when a local man pointed out the flat tyre that our scooter had acquired whilst we were being blessed. Conveniently the local man that pointed out the flat tyre also knew of a repair shop next door where they could repair our tyre for us. The bike was <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">unrideable</span> (is that a word?) though so we had no choice but to make use of his <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30">conveniently</span> located repair shop, and we were pleasantly surprised when they only ripped us of to the tune of 150 baht (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31">GBP</span> 2.50).<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIAraji58Xsb7Fxli_mCFB2wAVByksiFmm2Al888H6otWYD3cicogV2YpgnTfsxGzDc-fdaNL0CcArCABxln6HE_qCN96H40cV2ujYpSQVOYS5PlSCsVA4TYiEV2izk9KhB7wJzsdMibY/s1600-h/SamuiBeach.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIAraji58Xsb7Fxli_mCFB2wAVByksiFmm2Al888H6otWYD3cicogV2YpgnTfsxGzDc-fdaNL0CcArCABxln6HE_qCN96H40cV2ujYpSQVOYS5PlSCsVA4TYiEV2izk9KhB7wJzsdMibY/s320/SamuiBeach.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212440317231909442" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg-A5ewKDvcxCHHWKZWDH_JaQ7RdFlLORZyOWSYGhmT9lNqNl0ccVltsYkLzBpvogEnYcIyWLuyqg-9PdyVNQNYpm_9FOsNQnVFxiq_nYFFQNej2cnrCviiY4dq_psxBA1RnF48t5hvK8/s1600-h/GazSamuiFarmerTan.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg-A5ewKDvcxCHHWKZWDH_JaQ7RdFlLORZyOWSYGhmT9lNqNl0ccVltsYkLzBpvogEnYcIyWLuyqg-9PdyVNQNYpm_9FOsNQnVFxiq_nYFFQNej2cnrCviiY4dq_psxBA1RnF48t5hvK8/s320/GazSamuiFarmerTan.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212440708010325922" /></a><br /><br />From <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32">Ko</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33">Samui</span> we caught a catamaran over to the neighbouring island of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34">Ko</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35">Phangan</span>, and made another valiant attempt to "rough-it". We checked into the cheap and cheerful Same Same Lodge on May 9<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36">th</span>, and the promptly checked out of it again on the morning of May 10<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37">th</span>. The room was infested with Geckos which were feasting on the dead flies on the underside of our <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38">mattress</span>. So we doubled our <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39">accommodation</span> budget and moved into the comfortable and clean Sea Breeze bungalows. We had intended to travel onwards to the island of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40">Ko</span> Tao within a day or two, but we've enjoyed <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41">Ko</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42">Phangan </span>so much that we've <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43">thus far</span> not managed to get on the ferry. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44">Ko</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_45">Phangan</span> is home to some of the best scuba diving sites in Thailand, so we decided it would be a good venue to undertake our <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_46">PADI</span> Open Water Diving qualification. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_47">Gaz</span> had completed his Open Water diving course 8 years ago, but had not been diving since so we decided it would be more fun (and safer) if we enrolled on the course together. The course took three days, the first two of which were traumatic for Tara as she struggled to clear her mask without swallowing half the swimming pool or bay that we were in. She struggled through though, and had mastered the skill by the end of the second day. She was struggling to see the point of diving though, as visibility on our first two dives was never more than 2-3 metres. On the third day, it was <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_48">Gaz's</span> turn to be traumatised. We boarded our dive school's boat and sailed out to the dive site at Sail Rock. Our boat was somewhat ill-equipped for the conditions though (mainly because it was a river boat and never designed to travel on anything rougher than than a boating lake), and by the time we'd swayed our way across the Gulf of Thailand <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_49">Gaz</span> had turned a nice shade of green. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_50">Gaz</span> discovered that the fun is quickly taken out of diving when you're sick in your regulator. Somehow we both survived the experience and managed to successfully complete our <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_51">PADI</span> course. We now intend to become fair-weather divers and will only be <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_52">adorning</span> ourselves with scuba gear when the ocean is as flat as a pancake and the underwater visibility is in excess of 20 metres. To celebrate our diving achievements, we decided to head into the jungle and party the night away at the Half-Moon party. This was without doubt the best night out that we've had in Thailand, and we didn't stumble home until the sun started to rise at 5am. We paid the price of burning the candle at both ends the next day though. Tara didn't make it out of bed all day, and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_53">Gaz</span> would have stayed in bed as well if he hadn't found some strength in the bottom of two or three bottles of Chang beer.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6YMqWi5dY9py_woxhRirmJNK8vFS32jt_WpbhMGZNrcyXNXdBc62vT1EvzbpAfYoN0lkItrKIMc-_xfXYOx2v-Agr5U9WHyIVjo-uRj-Db-ziLUyr7JzeABtqMdnLtDvf4bbBR6cujFE/s1600-h/TaraHalfMoonBucket.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6YMqWi5dY9py_woxhRirmJNK8vFS32jt_WpbhMGZNrcyXNXdBc62vT1EvzbpAfYoN0lkItrKIMc-_xfXYOx2v-Agr5U9WHyIVjo-uRj-Db-ziLUyr7JzeABtqMdnLtDvf4bbBR6cujFE/s320/TaraHalfMoonBucket.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212439980016943026" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRlJdlJWw73ajYpaR-rMBvkt-Nb_XTraLwX0w4twvjxKKng24o2zziKBQB7pubqYG_ApDBM0FPg_9lEU09A3bHL5hrlJFRNcTHxxxQaTqLd9Xuahnb1sS0mtbCiwNg6jDcXmsTD2u2dyw/s1600-h/GazHalfMoonBucket.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRlJdlJWw73ajYpaR-rMBvkt-Nb_XTraLwX0w4twvjxKKng24o2zziKBQB7pubqYG_ApDBM0FPg_9lEU09A3bHL5hrlJFRNcTHxxxQaTqLd9Xuahnb1sS0mtbCiwNg6jDcXmsTD2u2dyw/s320/GazHalfMoonBucket.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212439864191284514" /></a><br /><br />Tomorrow we travel from the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_54">idyllic</span> island of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_55">Ko</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_56">Phangan</span> to the hustle-and-bustle of Singapore. Re-adjusting to city life is bound to be difficult.Gazboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409828705848059241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1186672861019795415.post-34279602217670890062008-05-03T04:05:00.000-07:002008-12-10T02:34:07.323-08:00Bangkok, Cambodia and LaosAfter a great last day in China, we packed our bags and headed again for the airport. Beijing airport is amazing (well...as amazing as airports can be anyway), and we caught a flight firstly to Hong Kong and then onto Bangkok. Our first experience in Bangkok was to be a sign of things to come, because despite following the Lonely Planet's advice of getting a metered taxi from outside the terminal we still managed to get ripped off. Our fare was twice what it was supposed to be, and I'm still none the wiser as to how the driver managed to con us. Bangkok itself was a welcome break from China though. Everybody speaks English, the hostels are lovely, and it has restaurants from every corner of the globe. We booked into a lovely hostel near the Khao San Road, with a massive air conditioner and a stunning roof-top pool. We spent our first day ticking off a couple of the standard backpacker experiences in Bangkok; a river "cruise" aboard three planks of wood with a V6 engine stuck on the back, and a tour of the Royal Palace. The following day we decided to get to know the real Bangkok, so firstly we got ripped off by a Tuk-Tuk driver and then hopped on the SkyTrain and made our way over to the Nana Plaza to gawk at some sex tourists. We were not disappointed. The place was crammed with old men and young Thai girls. We decided to take refuge in an Irish bar (surely Catholic morals would prevent such carry-on in there), but discovered it was as sordid as anywhere else we'd seen. We made friends with some ex-Pats over a game of pool though, and drank the night away with them.<br /><br />The following day we caught our Asia Air (Thailand's Ryanair) flight down to Phnom Penh, and booked into a grimy guesthouse in the centre of town. Cockroaches were crawling over the bathroom floor, the sheets were dirty, and the air conditioning unit didn't work because of an alleged power cut in the area (we later discovered that it wasn't working due to some underhand cost-cutting by the landlady). We discovered when we'd arrived at the guesthouse that we'd left our South East Asia Lonely Planet book (or the LP as we refer to it) in the taxi. This proved to be a blessing in disguise though, as good quality blackmarket copies of the Lonely Planet books are in abundance in Phnom Penh. This meant we could upgrade from our On-A-Shoestring version of the South East Asia LP, to the more upmarket LPs for each of the countries that we are visiting on the section of our trip. The individual books include more upmarket hostels, so with a little bit of luck we'll be able to avoid any further cockroach-infested guesthouses.<br /><br />We had a great time in Phnom Penh. We hired a car for the day so as to see as much as we could in the time we had. Our first stop was a shooting range north of Phnom Penh, where Gaz took up the opportunity to fire an AK47 (although opting for just a sheet of paper as a target, instead of the goats and cows that we're on offer as live targets). We then visited the sombre sites of the Killing Fields (where Pol Pot and his cronies murdered many thousands on innocent victims), and Toul Sleng (the jail where the victims were tortured prior to their deaths). We were also involved in a car accident, when the lady behind crashed into us as she was focusing on her mobile phone instead of the road in front. Fortunately nobody was hurt and hopefully that will be the only road collision that we experience during our travels. Our final stop was the Royal Palace and Silver Pagoda, after which we decided we deserved a beer. What then proceeded was one of the more obscure nights of our trip so far. The bar was owned by an alcoholic Irishman called Rory, who'd fallen in love with an older woman whilst travelling in Cambodia and had married her (most probably the only instance of a young westerner marrying an older Cambodian woman). He was trying hard to drink his profits, but as pointed out to me, "its very (hiccup) hard (dribble) to drink your profits (burp) when 24 cans of beers cost $4". The other friend that we made in the bar was an Irish mercenary, who'd been hired to fight in Cambodia 14 years previously and had never left. We lost track of both time and the weather whilst talking to these two characters in the bar, and it wasn't until we tried to leave the bar that we realised the street outside had flooded up to our knees. We decided to drink another couple of cans whilst the water subsided, but it just kept rising. Eventually we had to bite the bullet and wade through the knee-deep rain and sewage. The road to our hostel was flooded up to our waists' though which made it inaccessible by foot, but a plucky Tuk-Tuk driver managed to find a route through the floods (and half way round the city) for just $2.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz32cx7nC0mTAQ4lri2JhmmsmXrAW1u28HkMz6pKSJFdKwY51NoLFensfRsbTikgEHFY9ThZcZ7rgq1LZy-B3A9at0qDvDtEU7ikWxhOEdxMcJbbbObSWEQeTPe3epQciCqPoqpmHLuqk/s1600-h/GazAK47.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz32cx7nC0mTAQ4lri2JhmmsmXrAW1u28HkMz6pKSJFdKwY51NoLFensfRsbTikgEHFY9ThZcZ7rgq1LZy-B3A9at0qDvDtEU7ikWxhOEdxMcJbbbObSWEQeTPe3epQciCqPoqpmHLuqk/s320/GazAK47.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212442275851441842" /></a><br /><br />From Phnom Penh we caught a bus up Siem Reap. We'd undertaken a few shorter bus journeys in China, but this was our first long haul journey by road. The LP reported that the road between Phnom Penh was well tarmacked, but I think this is a relative term and is a comparison only to the other roads in Cambodia. After six hours of bouncing along at the back of the bus, we were both quite glad to be getting off. Our friend Jeremy (you may remember him from our China posts) met us at the bus station, and from there we made our way to the floating village in Siem Reap. We'd heard mixed reviews about the village, but we were all amazed by it. The village is in the middle of a large lake called Toule Sap, and has everything from floating Churches to floating pig pens. Our accommodation in Siem Reap was the best that we've experienced so far (The Siem Reap Hostel if you are ever in the area), with multiple communal areas, a swimming pool and large comfortable rooms. As well as Jeremy we also met up with Steve and Meghan (our Yangtze River cruise compadres), and had some great nights out Siem Reap. The Angkor What bar and Warehouse bars were our a favourite haunts, but the town is full of good cheap restaurants and bars. Whilst in Siem Reap we visited the Angkor Wat temples which were breath-taking, although we're becoming somewhat blase when it comes to temples as we've seen far too many of them in the past few weeks.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwQr1YhPHeQGYYvy0wUyOyhytQI0-hawn1pEJwJP-85-ByTLSGt3YIJcxrfMu34n1bZuJvOgugycGCJMWPv0NHnBWITCIiNiP_qQ6uZtcEK17u22AiSfZwwmDeTSWhJV5B9BJ0vlY8Y0k/s1600-h/JezTaraAngkorrWat.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwQr1YhPHeQGYYvy0wUyOyhytQI0-hawn1pEJwJP-85-ByTLSGt3YIJcxrfMu34n1bZuJvOgugycGCJMWPv0NHnBWITCIiNiP_qQ6uZtcEK17u22AiSfZwwmDeTSWhJV5B9BJ0vlY8Y0k/s320/JezTaraAngkorrWat.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212441374700005426" /></a><br /><br />From Siem Reap we caught a flight to Luang Prabang in Laos with Jeremy only to discover that it was full of more Wats (temples). So we decided to take to the countryside on a tour. The first part of the tour involved mountain biking 15km along winding, hilly and muddy tracks to an Elephant Lodge. From the lodge we caught a boat to a waterfall and then hiked for two hours in the baking midday sun to a mountain village where we became the evening entertainment for the local village children. After a few well earned beers we adjourned to our sleeping quarters, which was the floor of a wooden hut with a mosquito net overhead. On the second day, we hiked back to the lodge and went on an elephant trek through the jungle, before getting into a Kayak to paddle four hours back towards Luang Prabang. Tara and Gaz started off in one kayak, but the tour guide decided our pace was too leisurely so Jeremy and Tara swapped positions. This was when things all started to go wrong. The bung had been removed from the back of Jeremy and Gaz's kayak, so when we hit the first set of rapids we started sinking fast. Our tour guide had paddled off downstream with Tara so was unaware of the trouble we'd gotten into. Two local fisherman tried to help us get the boat afloat again, but they were unsuccessful. After 20 minutes of fighting the current, we eventually gave up and left the kayak to float down river without us. We'd lost our flip-flops in the current so after fighting our way out of the river we had to traipse along the rocky river bank barefoot. By the time we reached Tara and the tour guide they'd managed to collect most of our possessions from the river (with the exception of Jeremy's flip-flops), and fix our kayak. We were exhausted by this point though, and we still had another hour and half of paddling until we got back to the town. Somehow we managed to make it back to town, but we were all wrecked from the experience. We treated ourselves to fillet steaks in the best restaurant in Luang Prabang and some strong gin & tonics that night to help us get over our ordeal.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidZ2i_COE-nrDsl83diIgZHjZN4MsZD3vUIbBiQXWTlBprjQVVU1A9vVT1og3Bf0IVN_D-v-AKpR0rO5RF7JWDveNh0bMYHaOKqCE-RjurOE-AmsMRkhr3YjnoLPWCSldtqrUcpfcrxbI/s1600-h/ElephantGazTaraLaos.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidZ2i_COE-nrDsl83diIgZHjZN4MsZD3vUIbBiQXWTlBprjQVVU1A9vVT1og3Bf0IVN_D-v-AKpR0rO5RF7JWDveNh0bMYHaOKqCE-RjurOE-AmsMRkhr3YjnoLPWCSldtqrUcpfcrxbI/s320/ElephantGazTaraLaos.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212441664848652754" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjREXD2pqXtaqDXAtSXdoFUm3egPcKWPqR1MgAM7Fz3UK9aKreSGhpTO0r5bcaupoavMDiKex3PPzR1ONgBOJCLpG8c5Qt7nwiU2Fs6Oa0h0yelTBAeQXwHlsCvvOSeki48kLNQCEcU0Es/s1600-h/GazJezPostLaosTrauma.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjREXD2pqXtaqDXAtSXdoFUm3egPcKWPqR1MgAM7Fz3UK9aKreSGhpTO0r5bcaupoavMDiKex3PPzR1ONgBOJCLpG8c5Qt7nwiU2Fs6Oa0h0yelTBAeQXwHlsCvvOSeki48kLNQCEcU0Es/s320/GazJezPostLaosTrauma.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212441792592221714" /></a><br /><br />Tomorrow we head off to Chiang Mai in Thailand aboard Lao Airlines. They are reputed to have one of the worst air safety records, so wish us luck!Gazboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409828705848059241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1186672861019795415.post-83437907478633531372008-04-23T07:48:00.000-07:002008-12-10T02:34:07.815-08:00China - The Great Wall and our final impressionsOn our last day in Beijing, we took a bus up to Badaling to see the Great Wall of China. It was raining and miserable again in Beijing, but as we drove north towards the wall the day began to brighten-up. As with virtually all Chinese tours, this involved being forced in a 70-minute excursion into a Jade "Museum". The museum turned out to be a large room with 400 stalls trying to force us to purchase some Jade, before eventually being herded into another room and fed dog. The Great Wall was amazing though, and a great end to our travels through China. The wall itself is truly breathtaking, both to look at and to walk-along. The Chinese had felt the need to enhance the experience by caging some bears in tiny enclosures at the bottom which took from the experience some what, but on the plus side the trip down involved sliding down on a large mechanical helter-skelter/tobaggan-run.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfGBctw5Wrs_G734k4b4s1edyGwBlssw1EupY_cHOWrqN0zv1JgC5AbkPKg5LZtTJ-hU8swoCkg2lv1OLg4wra48UKl7AvgxFe0okf9PT0IgSGHcl1a-BXgRJKilJZ0bSBBOnwXIfDoOo/s1600-h/Great_Wall_Tara.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfGBctw5Wrs_G734k4b4s1edyGwBlssw1EupY_cHOWrqN0zv1JgC5AbkPKg5LZtTJ-hU8swoCkg2lv1OLg4wra48UKl7AvgxFe0okf9PT0IgSGHcl1a-BXgRJKilJZ0bSBBOnwXIfDoOo/s320/Great_Wall_Tara.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215336661890692642" /></a><br /><br />Most of the people we've met along the way have said that China was the toughest travelling experience they've had so far, so we're looking forward to an easier ride in Thailand, Cambodia and Laos. China is still a very much closed country, and the Chinese people are brainwashed by their media. The Chinese media's portrayal of the Tibet problems is disturbing to say the least. According to CCTV9 (the English language Chinese TV channel) the Tibetans would be stuck in a life of Serfdom if the Chinese hadn't "saved" them. The Chinese people as a whole are a very pushy nation, which I suppose is a by-product of the fact that there are a few too many of them (the one child policy should sort that out in about fifty years though). They are also the phlegmiest people in the world. You can't walk ten paces in China without somebody loudly clearing their throat and depositing it on the pavement. This isn't a hobby of just old men though. Many a time I've seen a pretty young Chinese girl stop in the middle of the street, and loudly hock up the contents of her nose and throat in front of me. Charming!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPJKM45IokXhHLCMl15n31E9MEcDaMhUaZTpz-nBQgwCzs3AoPYXsXz9ACEqQKd-G9fNamXZVR6kGiwzWrZtltr0G9f7_DdYtmLHZ1lHhEYfRJaXPhmq5NSfxvAQAfLfcehMK3s475Zmw/s1600-h/Great_Wall_Gaz_Tara.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPJKM45IokXhHLCMl15n31E9MEcDaMhUaZTpz-nBQgwCzs3AoPYXsXz9ACEqQKd-G9fNamXZVR6kGiwzWrZtltr0G9f7_DdYtmLHZ1lHhEYfRJaXPhmq5NSfxvAQAfLfcehMK3s475Zmw/s320/Great_Wall_Gaz_Tara.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215336415055047458" /></a><br /><br />All in all though, we really did enjoy China. Their culture and history is amazing, and we met some great people along the way. If you stop and look lost for even a moment in China, then nine times out of ten somebody will come up to you and offer their help (albeit it in Mandarin).<br /><br />We've now arrived in Bangkok, and already we feel that we're on a much more well-trodden backpacker router. Everybody speaks English, and organising trips/tours/travel are proving to be much easier already. We went to the Grand Palace and Wat Phra Kaew, before embarking on a river tour of the city. We've braved a couple of Tuk-Tuks as well, and thus far we've come away with our lives. We've one more day in Bangkok, before heading off to Phnom Penh in Cambodia on Friday.Gazboxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409828705848059241noreply@blogger.com0