Hasta luego America del Sur!

Our time in Buenos Aires has been short and sweet - most of it has been spent in Palermo, revisiting restaurants and cafes that we loved the first time round. The bohemian charms of Palermo are just seductive upon a second visit; although the hostels of BA were much quieter in May, and we spent a few hours traipsing the streets searching for available beds.

On our last night in Argentina we went for a long-anticipated meal at La Cabrera, one of BA´s famed parillas. Reservations are essential but even so you will have to queue - it´s ridiculously popular. We ordered an 800g butterfly cut sirloin steak to share - the menu options were bewildering to those not in the habit of ordering large hunks of meat in restaurants. The meat lived up to expectations, and also appreciated were the nine gourmet tapas style sides and sauces it came with, not to mention the free lollipop at the end of the meal!

Today, we´re off on a 46 hour bus journey to Rio de Janeiro, where we´ll stay one night before our 11 hour flight into Heathrow. From there it´s just an hour to Glasgow and HOME!

Thanks to everyone who has been reading this blog for the last six months - I appreciate it more than you know. This will be the last post on this blog, at least until the next trip, but in the meantime I´ve started a new blog, which will primarily feature pop culture reviews (books, films, tv) as well as links to other interesting things I´m reading online. You can find it here; http://www.theamateurcynic.blogspot.com/.

Look forward to seeing you all soon! 

Don´t cry for me Argentina, the truth is I never left you

Our journey back across the border into Argentina began when we left our hostel in Bolivia at 3.30am to travel to the border town of Villazon. After some minor scamming while buying bus tickets, we made it to Salta, where the snow was falling. Despite the cold, the main plaza was lined with orange trees, all filled with fruit - pictured to the right. The pink church was just one of the ornate and baroque churches and cathedrals around town. Salta was a very attractive place, especially in contrast to Bolivia. Comfy buses! Proper pavements and roads! Food that won´t kill you!

Towering over Salta was a hill powdered with snow, which we spent an afternoon climbing. It also boasts a lot of parks and plazas; the many vendos roasting peanuts and selling hot dogs, popcorn and multicoloured candyfloss give the town a fun fair atmosphere. Food in Argentina was a delight after our time in Bolivia - it was great to rediscover such Argentine specialities as steak sandwiches with fried egg, ham and cheese, and dulche de leche filled alfajors.

After a few days chilling out in Salta, we headed for the university town of Cordoba. It was less scenic, but seemed a bit more vibrant and buzzy. The snowfall ceased as we travelled south, but the temperature remained low.

We spent our time in Cordoba wandering parks, plazas and churches, as well as sitting in cafes and drinking wine and coffee. We also discovered a new type of empanada, the ´arabes´, which is meat flavoured with spices and lemon. One night we visited a traditional parrilla restaurant for an Argentine grill - I think the platter which came contained just about every edible part of a cow. I recognised sausage, black pudding, steak and liver but the various other greasy, crunchy items will forever be a mystery.... Next stop, Buenos Aires! Before the long journey home...

The Salar de Uyuni: Bolivia redeems itself

The Salt Flats tour in Bolivia is yet another obligatory part of the gringo route round South America. Being the stubbornly independent tavellers that we are, we opted not to do it from Uyuni as is customary, but to head to Tupiza, where the tours were more expensive but reputedly better. Some of the horror stories reported online or in guidebooks about Salt Flat tours included hypothermia, food poisoning, drunken drivers and repeated mechanical breakdowns...so we embarked with some trepidation. Little did we know that while none of these things would happen to us, we were fated to spend four days in a jeep with travelling companions who made us wish our driver was drunk after all and would soon end the misery...

It all began when the French guy approached us on the street and asked us to go on the tour with him and his girlfriend. Surely a moral can be extrapolated from this, or at least a mildly xenophobic joke? In any case, the tour was actually really great anyway, so I will just say about this couple that there is inappropriate PDA, and then there is behaviour which makes you wish you were both deaf AND blind. But anyway, what could have ruined our entire trip just made us more proactive in seeking the company of people in a different jeep but on a tour with the same company.

Which meant we met Angus, a Scottish guy with a million great travelling stories, and four hilarious American girls travelling after six months studying Spanish in Buenos Aires. We spent all our time outside the jeep with them, even going so far as to eat our meals with them rather than the Rude Couple. The trip was also a mini Spanish course, as the driver of our jeep spoke no English. Luckily, by the end of the four days we became fairly proficient at translating anything to do with food, or minerals, as most of his comments seemed to relate to either or both topics.

On day 1 of the Salt Flats tour,  we climbed steadily to over 5000 feet along spectacularly windy mountain roads. The scenery was a mixture of increasingly barren desert and plains, with grazing llamas and vicunas, and dramatic crags eroded over time to jagged points. The wind was shockingly cold - Dave shivered in his shorts and I soon relinquished my straw hat in favour of a woolly one. The last stop of the day was a town so isolated that electricity had arrived just forty days prior. The town centre was deserted, with nary a stray dog or piece of tumbleweed, but a definite feel of the Wild West.

On the second day at sunrise, after the coldest night of my life, (the temperature was -20 degrees C) we visited the ruins of a town abandoned in the 18th century due to a mysterious illness. (Mysterious if you don´t understand much Spanish anyway.) We stopped at several lakes fringed with salt, with clouds of sulphur rising above. We also forded many streams which were completely iced over - a surreal sight in the blazing sun. Yet more surreal were the hot springs - a natural thermal bath with a constant termperature of 30 degrees C, in the midst of a freezing windswept landscape.

Bathing was heaven but my hair turned to icicles afterwards. Other highlights were the geysers, especially the one that hissed like a kettle on the boil, and the bright green, blue and red lagoons we visited. The last one, Laguna Colarada, is cold in the morning but warm at night. As a result, it is home to many flamingoes - seeing them here at sunset was one of my favourite experiences of the last six months.

Accommodation on the trip was extremely basic, but gradually improved, until on the last night we stayed in a salt hotel (walls, chairs etc made of salt blocks) and had our own room.

The evenings were spent sociably with Angus and the Americans, drinking herbal tea and playing endless games of cards. The food on the trip was actually some of the best we had in Bolivia - not that that´s saying a great deal! Portions were big and each meal generally had two different forms of carbohydrates. Dinner was two courses, always starting with an excellent vegetable soup. Notably, we had the Bolivian national dish one night, pique a lo macho - chips, chopped up hot dogs, onions, tomatoes, steak and eggs. Dave was not a fan but I managed to force down two or three helpings...

Day three of the trip encompassed five different lagoons, all with striking mountain backdrops to their frozen expanses, and many with their own flamingoes. We also visited some rocks in the middle of the desert (better than it sounds!) an active volcano, and the start of the salt flats. The final day began at sunrise, at the largest salt flat in the world. (Like a desert, but salt instead of sand, for 12000km.) It was a surreal and magical experience. The salt flat is hard to comprehend in the full light of day - it stretches on and on in patterns which look like waves from above. It looks like ice, but tastes like table salt! Underneath the upper crust of salt is water, and at points there are pools where holes have been made in the salt. In these pools, the salt forms beautiful multicoloured crystals, which seem somehow incongruous and miraculous in that vast expanse of white. So, not only did we not get hypothermia, but after more than two weeks we found something to love about Bolivia!

In which your heroine miraculously recovers before falling prey to the evils of Bolivia once more...

Our first encounter with a Bolivian night bus was not particularly positive - there was one bathroom stop in our 12 hour journey, and that was at midnight in the middle of the field. At least we got to see the Milky Way! Sucre, our next stop after La Paz, came as a pleasant surprise however. It´s a lovely city, with leafy streets and plazas and white-washed buildings. The weather was perfect while we were there and we actually managed to track down food which didn´t make us ill. Most of our time in Sucre was spent watching the World Cup, wandering round the plazas and churches of the town, and lounging in the park.

One of the best things about Sucre was the freshly squeezed orange juice available on every corner. The city teemed with people with little carts full of oranges, ready to hand you a fresh cup for forty pence. We also discovered lots of chocolate shops in the town, and learned that when it comes to buying chocolate, a little Espanol can get you a long way. Our most distinctive culinary experience in Sucre came when we sampled the Bolivian version of cheese fondue. This consisted, rather unusually, of a pot of hot oil in which one fried chicken, potatoes and cheese before slathering all in the ubiquitous salsa golf. This was actually quite probably our best meal in Bolivia.

Our next stop was Potosi, a little town at the shivery altitude of 4065m. The silver mines of Potosi once made the Spanish rich, and the nearby hills are still mined today, although most of the silver is depleted. Backpackers flock here for the obligatory tour of the mines, which starred in the award-winning 2005 film The Devil´s Miner. (So-called because the miners pray to their devil, Tio, to keep them safe...) Our first experience in Potosi was a slightly dodgy taxi ride - we thought we were being kidnapped, so we had to jump out in a hurry...The city centre boasted some interesting winding streets, but lacked much of Sucre´s charm. In order to save money and avoid illness we opted to cook for ourselves in the hostel, which necessitated a trip to the market and attempts to patch together a meal from the less than cosmopolitan selection of goods on offer. We still managed better than everyone else in our hostel though - instant cheese sauce with raw carrots on top of plain rice....Hmmm.

Unfortunately, after our time in Sucre I had declimatized to the altitude so found myself really struggling with headaches and shortness of breath in Potosi. When just standing up in the shower was too much exertion for my body to cope with, we decided I would have to stay behind from the mine tour. This according to Dave was a wise decision - the mines apparently are incredibly claustrophobic and hot, and the air is difficult to breathe. For most of the tour, Dave had to crawl, at times over perilous drops. There were children as young as 12 working there, and most of the miners were drunk. The miners chewed coca leaves constantly and the mountain has been worked for so long it is now riddled with holes, which could cave in at any time. The miners are paid the equivalent of forty pounds a week.

After Potosi, we travelled south to Tupiza. However, what should have been an eight hour journey spiralled into an eleven hour odyssey. To start with, our bus was an hour late arriving in the morning. Then, after it trundled along nearly the entire way to Tupiza, it was forced to stop below a digger which was on a cliff path above the road throwing boulders and mud down below. This continued for two hours, before the digger came down to clear the road. Of course, by that point a huge queue of (uncomplaining, completely accepting) traffic had developed, and when the road was clear everyone was held up again by the resulting traffic jam as cars from both sides tried to drive across one lane at the same time. By the time we arrived, we were tempted to hightail it for the Argentine border. But: the best of Bolivia was yet to come!

La Paz: "It´s not good for your health..."

Before we arrived in La Paz, a fellow traveller warned us, "They say you should buy your ticket out as soon as you arrive. It´s not good for your health..." As well as the so-called Most Dangerous Road in the World, La Paz boasts shady bars where illicit drugs are de rigeur and San Pedro prison, where regular tours run. However, we didn´t even have time to sample any of these dubious tourist delights, as we were too busy suffering from the effects of the food. I was ill on and off pretty much the entire time we spent in La Paz - as if starring in a slapstick comedy, I kept getting better then going out to eat and falling prey to the evil bacteria once more.

Luckily the hostel we were staying in was more like a home, with a massive dvd collection and a good kitchen. We eventually resorted to cooking all our meals ourselves, after an epic mission to what appeared to be the one supermarket in the city (and indeed in the country, as we didn´t find any others elsewhere). Positive remarks about the food in La Paz: we did try saltenas, the Bolivian speciality, for the first time. They are essentially the same as empanadas but a bit sweeter and incredibly juicy, making them difficult to eat. We also found an excellent chocolate shop which specialised in bonbons which by some miracle were just about the only thing we could buy which did not make us sick.

La Paz itself is a fast-paced and incredibly steep city, perched improbably on the side of a hill. It´s full of markets selling a mixture of interesting goods and touristy crap, most notably the Witches´ Market, which features llama fetuses. Postcards of La Paz usually display its colonial architecture, which indeed is awfully pretty when you notice it but most of the time is obscured by the people begging and the sheer bustle and grime of the city. Can you tell I was not overally enamoured with it?! Never mind, things got better at our next stop. Kind of.

The Copacabana without the caipirinhas

The border crossing between Peru and Bolivia was straightforward, and despite the warnings of our guidebook required no bribery. Our first stop in our final country was the tiny town of Copacabana, gateway to the Bolivian side of Lake Titicaca. Having just left Puno, which didn´t improve on a second visit, the sunny and serene town was a lovely surprise. It is cradled between the lake and mountains, and its streets, while dusty and touristy, were attractive enough. The centre of town is dominated by a whitewashed Moorish-style church; apart from this the main attraction nearby is the steep hill a few minutes walk away, for amazing views of the bay. The town is so small there is no atm, as we discovered to our alarm a few Bolivianos away from empty pockets. Along with fifty Bolivians, we queued at the only bank in town, where we could get a cash advance. The Bolivians were almost without exception in traditional dress - brightly coloured voluminous skirts, plaited hair and bowler hats for the women, shirts and sweater combos for the men. They made a stark and slightly uncomfortable contrast to the barefooted backpackers in torn jeans flashing bits of plastic and withdrawing wads of cash...

The main reason anyone visits Copacabana is to get to Isla del Sol, which is the biggest island on Lake Titicaca and as legend has it is the birthplace of the Incas. So we headed down to the docks early on our first full day in Bolivia, and caught an unbelievably slow ferry crammed with tourists across to the island. Once there, virtually everyone else departed to view some minor Inca ruins - blase after Machu Picchu, we decided instead to take the coastal route round the island. The island is still virtually undeveloped, and the path we were following was really more of a track, often through local farms (still designed the Incan way in hillside terraces).

The views were beautiful, and the air was perfumed by the many euculyptus trees favoured by farmers all over South America. The heat was intense however, and the steep hills took their toll, at around 4065m above sea level. After walking for around four hours, along a path growing more and more vague and grown over, we realised we were entirely lost. The only human beings in sight were farmers, who spoke not Spanish but Quecha. After running up and down hills trying frantically to glimpse the port, and retracing our steps, we made it back to the docks to find we had missed our boat off the island but thankfully not the last one - the prospect of a night in surroundings rustic at best was not exactly enticing...The end result of our visit to the island was that we succeeded in completely bypassing all the Incan sites favoured by other tourists, engaged as we were in our own unique five hour trek of sorts. In consolation we reminded ourselves that is exactly the kind of experience we´ve paid good money for at other points on our trip!

With our culinary experiences in Copacabana came the first intimations that food in Bolivia would leave someting to be desired. Fried, fried or...roast in lots of oil are about as far as your options as to cooking methods extend. Salchipapas (cut up hot dog with fried potatoes) are very popular. Set lunches ae cheap and edible, but woe betide you if you don´t like soup. We went out for Mexican food one night and discovered that in Bolivia vegetarian fajitas include whatever you can´t get rid of any other way - broccoli and cauliflower with your guacamole anyone? All this is to say that we headed for La Paz full of hope - after all, the culinary situation had to improve there, right?....

Cusco; city of rainbow flags, Incan ruins and the most disgustingly drinkable cocktail in the world

After Puno, Cusco was a pleasant surprise. Despite being best known as the departure point for Machu Picchu, Cusco is not overshadowed by its heritage. It is definitely worth visiting in its own right, with great bars and restaurants and plenty of Inca remnants scattered around its picturesque streets. And wow, it is picturesque: being hilly makes for steep climbs but great views - and the colonial architecture and leafy plazas don´t hurt either. We were staying in what is usually termed a ´party hostel´ - read, little sleep and the knowledge that no matter the time of day someone in your dorm will be drunk. The payoff obviously is increased sociability, and for Dave, world cup matches shown on the widescreen tv at breakfast.  

Along with all that essential football, we did manage to take in some cultural activities in the five or so days we spent in Cusco. We checked out a few of the town´s many cathedrals, looked at a twelve-sided Inca stone and walked through an alley where the Inca-built walls still tower.  We also visited the Incan site Qorichenka, where the courtyard was once literally paved, wallpapered, ceiling-ed and ornamented with gold, till the Spanish came and melted it all away. Nowadays it is the site of a monastry, park and art gallery.

In addition to a small and quiet room filled with modern art on religious themes (a lot better than it sounds) there were plenty of 16th century paintings, which basically consisted of about 37 million images of the Virgin Mary. And one pretty cool interpretation of the meeting between the conquistadors and the Incas.

The last day of our Inca Trail trip coincided with Peru´s biggest festival, Inti Raymi (festival of the sun.) While this meant we missed most of the official festivities, we did manage to see quite a few parades around the main plaza - an incredible amount of people were involved, all dressed in traditional costumes. However it was definitely a festival geared towards locals rather than tourists, which meant a great atmosphere in the city centre during our time there.    

While relaxing at the hot springs we had arranged to meet up with the Americans Donnie, Jess and Ashley (from West Virginia and Pennsylvania respectively) and Londoner Sheldon when we were all back in Cusco. So the following day we met up for a meal and cocktails at Los Perros, a restaurant Dave and I had visited previously, and which featured meals such as alpaca meatballs in a mint and passionfruit sauce. It was a fun night, and as Sheldon was staying at the same hostel as us, we headed to the on-site bar after the Americans departed. This was where I discovered the fatal combination of pisco and pineapple juice, a deadly mixture heightened by the fact that the concept of one shot per drink was apparently unknown to the Peruvian bar staff, who interpreted a measure as half a glass. Emma V, you must have the genes of a great drinker in you if this is how your compatriots do things! The following day, one of us went with Sheldon to see a Peruvian Pink Floyd tribute band perform while the other stayed in bed... On a more dignified note, other culinary highlights of Cusco included great hamburgers and nachos from a mega cheap local joint, a different version of stuffed chilli pepper (the stuffed pepper itself was encased in pastry) and a couple of trips to Jack´s Cafe, the traveller´s hangout so trendy there is an actual queue for tables no matter what time of day you arrive. We were sorry to leave Cusco, especially as our onwards travel necessitated an overnight in Puno, but keen to get to Bolivia - our ninth and final country!                                           

The Inca Trail: Don´t even attempt it without plenty rum and cocaine

After a couple of days in Cuzco (Surprise! We got there after all!), (more on that later) we began the pilgrimage to Machu Picchu at 5.50am on the 21st of June. There were fifteen of us on the trip, and as this will be a long post let´s have a few introductions! There was Sheldon from London, at the end of an eight month trip around the world. Forty-nine year old Mike from Australia, and his athletic and slightly acerbic friend Megan. From the States, there were Libby and Lynette, New Yorkers with opinions on everything. Three quieter Americans were Donny and Ashley, a couple, and Donny´s sister Jess. Five others in the group hailed from Hong Kong - I thought they were younger than me before finding out that among their numbers were a radiologist, an opthamologist, a surgeon, a dentist and a married couple! There was also our guide Freddy - an immensely passionate and voluble man fluent in English, Espanol and Quecha - and around twenty porters, or chaskis as they prefer to be known. (Quecha for runner.)

Day 1

Our first stop after a couple of hours driving through the Sacred Valley was at an isolated restaurant offering a rip-off buffet breakfast. Stubborn to the end, we resolved to survive on snickers till lunchtime. We did purchase a (shared) walking stick along with some coca leaves and charcoal to help with the altitude. The charcoal works to neutralize the addictive properties of the coca leaves, Freddy told us, shaking his head in reverential wonder at the genius of Mother Nature, or Pachamama as we referred to her throughout the trip. From the start of the trail the scenery was incredible - the valleys, mountains and lush vegetation made for constant photo opportunities. The path was narrow and stony, with little shade - I got burnt quite badly on the first day. At first thr group walked together, but as the day went on we spread out more and more, as everyone found their own pace. Before lunch we stopped to admire our first set of Inca ruins, and take a detour from the track proper to climb a perilously steep hill for the best photo of them.

Lunch was a pleasant surprise - the table was laid with silverware and napkins and the chaskis handed us glasses of juice as we entered camp. We had a three course meal of avocado salad, soup with ´picante´ to add in and dessert, followed of course by coca tea. We also got through the obligatory introductions, to the soundtrack of Freddy repeatedly insisting that we were ´a family´. Just before sunset (and 13km into the trail) we reached our campsite. Three of the Americans arrived almost an hour later, struggling under the weight of their massive packs. We didn´t have a porter but had opted to rough it, leaving most of our things behind in Cusco. It became brutally cold as soon as night fell, so after dinner (more vegetable soup, the classic Peruvian dish of lomo saltado and bananas flambeed in rum) we all headed for bed. Our foam mattresses did little to make the ground more comfortable and the toilet facilities in camp were basic to say the least!



Day 2

After a relative lie-in till 6am, Manuel the assistant guide on the trip brought us coca tea in bed. Breakfast was a carbo-loading feast of porridge,(I skipped it, obviously not really Scottish) fruit salad, granola and pancakes, with toast on the side if required. And yet more coca tea. But we needed all the calories we could get for the morning ahead - five hours of a steep uphill climb to Dead Woman´s Pass, at 4200m above sea level. Halfway through we stopped for a second breakfast of popcorn and cheese sandwiches, before we all broke out the charcoal and coca leaves. Freddy showed us how much charcoal to use and how to chew them and assured us that the numbness and tingling in our mouths was normal. The leaves did help give me a bit more energy, and I pretty much chewed them all day to try and combat the fuggy head and tingling fingers caused by altitude. (I was also popping altitude pills and drinking as much coca tea as I could get at mealtimes.)

Even so, as we walked further up the stunning mountain track to Dead Woman´s Pass I was really suffering. Our surroundings were incredible, with a glacier in the distance, llamas grazing in the valley, waterfalls and orchids along the way, but it was hard to appreciate them while struggling to breathe and shaking uncontrollably. To help with the symptoms, Freddy and Manuel gave me what they called their Magic Flower Remedy - two unknown, apparently natural liquids from seperate bottles were combined - when inhaled, it helped to clear the lungs and head. They gave me a little sample on a cotton bud to sniff as I climbed, kind of like the smelling salts used by Victorian women.

After many, many rest stops we reached the top. I should say that on the previous day Dave and I had bounded along near the front, but on the second day we floated around near the middle most of the time. Sheldon invariably led the way, with Megan following just behind. At the top, what else would you do but have a ceremony to celebrate Pachamama? We all put a stone we had carried up the mountain on a pile and had a group hug, before pouring rum over the rocks. What, you didn´t know Pachamama likes rum? She also enjoys coca leaves so those had a place in the stone pile too. Then we all got a shot of rum, which is meant to be bad for altitude sickness but which I think helped...The rest of the day was downhill, which was less exhausting but tough on the knees. At camp we had lunch (soup, then pasta with chicken) and a siesta before dinner. Although the meal itself was once again delicious, the highlight was Freddy´s cocktail at the end- black tea, orange juice, sugra, cinnamon, cloves and more rum! We drank it while he told us a ghost story about the valley we were sleeping in - scary but not as bone-chilling as the revelation that an average of three people a year die doing the Inca Trail. They do not tell you that when you´re booking it!

Day 3

Our final day of trekking began with more coca tea, and another substantial breakfast. It was by far the most scenic day, with visits to several Inca sites and a track that meandered through cloud forest, beside trickling streams and mossy trees. Amazingly, despite the fact that 500 people start the treak every day, at points you can be walking totally alone for half an hour or longer. We reached the final campsite around 5pm, and went for ´hot´ showers before a drink in the bar with everyone except the Hong Kong contingent, who kept to themselves for most of the trip. At dinner, the chef produced a cake to wish us all good luck on our travels. We distributed our tips to the porters and headed off to bed before Machu Picchu.

Day 4

No coca tea in the tent this morning! We woke up at 3.30am to scarf down breakfast and go and queue in the dark to be in a prime position to reach Machu Picchu before everyone else. Ar 5.30am, we began walking the final few kms to the Sun Gate in the dark - Sheldon nearly fell off the path twice on the way. Sunrise at this time of year, as Freddy had warned us, is not a dramatic display of colours but more a case of the sun´s rays coming over the mountain and falling on Machu Picchu. It may not sound spectacular but it brought a lump to the throat - there was even a collective gasp from the crowd of about 100 as a flock of parrots flew over the ruins. Freddy gave us a tour of the site, and then we had a few hours to explore it ourselves before the crowds arrived. Later, we all met in the town below for lunch, before heading to the hot springs to wash away the grime and sooth our aching muscles. (Many more photos on Dave´s facebook!)

Purgatory, Puno

Puno was shockingly shabby after Arequipa - a dusty and ramshackle town brightened only by the mountains behind and the blue lake in front. The centre of town was slightly more attractive, albeit touristy, but nearer the outskirts a smell of urine pervaded, due to the guys stopping to pee at every street corner. Our first impressions of Puno however were necessarily overshadowed by the fact that we would not be able to leave until Saturday at the earliest due to a local bus strike. This would normally have been an inconvenience, but under the circumstances was a near disaster as unless we paid the balance of our Inca Trail by 7pm on Saturday we would lose our deposit as well as the chance to visit Machu Picchu. We considered various methods for getting to Cuzco on time if the strike continued (dodgy night bus, expensive flight, hired taxi for the seven hour journey...) but none were ideal, so we just had to wait and hope that everything would work out ok.

Puno is 3800m above sea level, which took some adjustment after Arequipa. We had come equipped we altitude sickness pills but even so I struggled with dizziness, difficulty breathing and headaches. (Dave was fine.) The high altitude also meant blazing sunshine by daytime and brutal cold at night. We shivered in our hostel and avoided the tepid shower as much as possible.

The sights of Puno were fairly limited, apart from the ubiquitous touristy alpaca product shops. Walking around town was also made difficult by the touts offering massages, meals and jumpers. This was a feature of travelling totally absent from Chile, Argentina and Brazil but it didn´t take long for us to remember how annoying it is.

We tasted coca tea for the first time in Puno, as it is meant to help with altitude sickness. Coca leaves are legal in Peru and a harmles and mild stimulant, although they are the first ingredient needed for the production of cocaine. The tea was quite refreshing and seemed to help the headaches a bit, despite tasting slightly like grass. Other notable meals included salchipapas, a heaped plate of chips and chopped up hot-dog, Andean pancakes and excellent guacamole, and poached Lake Titicaca trout in a vodka and red pepper sauce. (The latter was in a Peruvian fusion restaurant while the former was in a greasy spoon equivalent.)

Our main activity was a tour of the Floating Islands, which we tried to do independently rather than through a tour agency. However, we got ripped off and as a result succeeded in paying exactly the same amount as we would have if someone else had arranged it for us. Also on the trip were fifteen Peruvians, who seemed more into the touristy things the islanders were shilling than we were. Included in the trip was an introduction to the islands which helpfully was in Spanish. We did manage to take away from it the fact that the reeds which form the base of the islands are around two metres deep. The islands are literally floating - the ground is formed from layer upon layer of matted reeds, which are springy to step on and felt exactly like a water bed.

The boats and houses are all formed entirely from reeds, as was a little free range guinea pig enclosure we spotted. Most of the islanders seemed to be involved in tourism in one way or another, and it was an incredibly commercialized place. Despite this, it was also totally unique and so worth a visit. It helped that the lake itself was blindingly blue and pretty stunning by itself. 

On Saturday morning, after more than enough of Puno, we walked to the bus station to see if we would be able to get to Cuzco.... Cliffhanger! (Except not really, because I´m sure everyone reading this already knows what happened.)

The city of volcanic rock in the land of the Incas (Arequipa)

We entered Peru in a colectivo taxi, which ended up being our simplest border crossing yet. Not only did we get charged the same amount for the ride as the Chileans in the taxi with us (in parts of Asia it would have been ten times as much!) but the taxi company actually filled out our immigration forms for us. Peru at first sight seemed wealtheir and more attractive than we had anticipated - although writing this with hindsight, it no doubt had a lot to do with the fact that the border town Tacna used to be part of Chile...We hopped on a bus straight to Arequipa, which proved to be rough around the edges but stunning in the touristy city centre.

Although Arequipa has suffered more than a few earthquakes, many of the city´s ancient buildings built from sillar (white volcanic rock) have survived. We really liked the cobbled streets surrounding the main plaza, which was always packed with Peruvians and tourists enjoying the sun. However, in many ways Peru reminded us of SE Asia, and the constant need to be alert to the possibility of scams and theft, as well as the never-ending attention from touts on the street. Added to this was the need to be extra vigilant when receiving change (counterfeit coins and notes are common) and taking taxis (kidnapping a possibility.) There was a bit of cultureshock after Argentina and Chile.

The main attraction near Arequipa is the Colca Canyon....but we didn´t end up going there. We wanted to check it out independently but we didn´t have enough time. We could have done an organised tour but they all seemed pricy and rushed. Then we found a company which was recommended for tours but it was closed for the weekend, so that was that! Instead we spent our time in Arequipa just hanging out, which was good after the last few days of intense travelling. Dave worked on his espanol and managed to leap ahead of me, although I still have more food-related vocab. We checked out a few ancient and architecturally impressive churches and cathedrals in the city centre, as well as the Santa Catalina monastry, which is a sprawling and beautiful citadel.

Additionally, we visited many of the identical tourist shops selling ´genuine baby alpaca´ products, watched a lot of the World Cup and explored Peruvian cuisine. We discovered that Arequipa has many excellent Turkish restaurants (falafel sandwiches! Jonny, Emma and Neil, you will know what this meant to me!) and we found a creperie (with both trout and curry crepes) which we went to no less than three times. Other notable meals included the classic dish of stuffed chilli pepper with potatoes and cheese fondue, and guinea pig, which Dave described as ´like steak but crunchy´. And of course, there was plenty of Pisco.

On the 16th of June, we set off for Puno with the intention of spending just one night and breaking up the journey to Cusco. But the travelling gods seem to agree with Robert Burns in that the better a plan appears to be, the more likely it is to go horribly wrong...

Around (the north of) Chile in 4 days

Valpairiso is just two hours away from Santiago, and used to be a very important port in ye olde times. A glamourised version of it appears on many postcards in Chile - it is eminently photogenic as it is built on several steep hills, and boasts many cheerfully colourful buildings. The best way to describe it is to say it is full of character, a euphemism akin to saying someone has a great personality. It is not postcard pretty; but it is attractive in an interesting way. Compared to the deserted streets of Santiago, it was full of vibrant life on the Sunday we visited. We hiked our way up through an open-air museum of murals built on one of the city´s hills, which was cool, and checked out the port from a distance. Other activites included drinking coffee, eating completos and exploring the town in in a brief and haphazard manner. Next, a return to Santiago for the night before beginning our journey northward to La Serena.

La Serena is a coastal town which in summer is a popular beach resort, but which was overcast and quiet when we visited.

We stayed at a quaint little guesthouse with actual waitress service at the not-bad-at-all free breakfast. We also continued our run of scoring discounted accommodation by using the revolutionary tactic of asking for it! Thanks, SEAsia, for forcing us to haggle over everything! We arrived late so dinner on our first night in town was a choice between a series of identical looking neighbourhood type grills, offering variations on the same dishes at the same prices. We ate grilled meats with chips and copious amounts of guacamole.  We spent a day or so appreciating the lovely architecture and ancient churches in town. We also drank some more pisco and walked along to the beach, which was pretty in a grey and brooding kind of way. This was also the first time (except from a distance in Valparaiso) either of us had seen the Pacific ocean. (Bonus Where´s Wally style challenge - spot the large cross on the hillside!)

The following day, after two separate Chileans assured us the Elqui Valley was pretty much the most beautiful place in the universe we managed to pack in a tour around the region before catching our bus to Arica at 6pm. And yes, it was really beautiful. Unfortunately we didn´t get as much time to appreciate the landscape (read: take photos) as I would have liked, as we were constantly whizzing between various papaya or cactus fields, learning more about the produce of Chile than I think anyone in their right minds would ever want to know. Still, we visited a cool dam with some great views, and some unbelievably picturesque little villages, as well as the house of South America´s first ever Nobel prize winner, poet Gabriela Mistral.

The tour guide was a personable Chilean guy, and along with us on the tour were a middle-aged couple from Santiago and a couple who lived in Hong Kong, although the guy was a magistrate who originally came from Leeds. Lunch was at a restaurant which used solely solar power ovens to cook the food - interesting gimmick but indifferent cooking. The hightlight of the day was a visit to a pisco distillery, as the valley is where most of the pisco in Chile is produced I believe. (It is a form of grape brandy and not from sugarcane as some inexperienced Pisco drinker attested in the last post...) Therein we tried a mango sour, some straight 40% pisco and some 67% pisco, which David claimed to prefer to the cocktail version. It was just as well we clung to our heritage and drank up, as awaiting us was a 25 hour journey to the border town of Arica. The landscape en route was to my eyes stark and desolate - mile upon mile of bare heaps of dirty sand towering up to grey skies, with the occasional stray dog or wooden cross interspersed. We saw little of Arica before our border crossing to Peru, on the 11th of June.