We have booked a 2 day tour of Machu Picchu with Maria Sottomayor..had to mention the name as it is so colourful! The day we leave, not the day we were supposed to leave, it is the day for marching bands to herald the entry of Machu Picchu into the New seven wonders of the world - N7W - competition. The town is choas with hundreds of the usually frenetic taxis and buses at a standstill..what a relief.
We are going via the Sacred Valley: Pisac, Ollantaytambo and finally to Aguas (smelly) Calientes where we stay for a night before the obligatory 5am thrust for the summit and Machu Picchu itself. The roads wind up and down the immense valley which all adds to the already whoosey altitude sickness. The views are stunning and many buses litter the route which is thoroughly established for all the tour operators and hawkers alike. This makes you feel slightly like herded flocks but the sights are so large and spread out you can sometimes be on your own with just a few Llamas and the marvellous indigenous folk. From the twenty or so years since i was mountain goating up all the goat paths up to all these sites they have definitely got their mierdre together and this is money spinner par excellance. This doesn´t add to your feeling of intrepid explorers as you join the throngs of people for shoeshines and blanket purveying but it is still a thrill when you see the towns which probably haven´t changed a greast deal for 500 years..apart from the ´llamadas girls´ who litter each corner with mobile phones which are like feline phone boxes...the current equivalent of the pony express I suppose. Yes mobile calls are available in the sacred valley between the towering peaks from these feline highwaywomen thanks to a network of ariels which dot all the highest points.
Pisac is a incredible little town and the ruins are staggering nestled 1500 feet above the town keepig a cursory eye on the town planners and their worldwide incompetence. We visit the ruins here before another stop at an Almuerzo (lunch) joint with the statutory Alpacha stew and sopa...all the same very delicious. I can only suggest the spanish must not have genetic faults with their knees, they conquered this whole region - albeit on horseback - but the relentless peeks and valleys take a huge toll on the knees coupled with breathlessness from thin air and a late night at the Mystic club the night before.
Next we make for Ollantaytambo which is a real Inca town in its layout, beautiful water systems and houses. The ruins here are even more remarkable as the hallmark, enormous beautifully carved stones here were bought from a quarry 2000m up on the other side of the valley. Some of these blocks weigh in at 150 tonnes and they were rolled over wooden rollers to finish perched and carved in the current positions. The ruins tower over the town again and we break for a visit to the ´Hearts´ cafe for a bite before getting on the train to Aguas Calientes. We meet the incredible Sonia and she gives us the low down on the tough lot of the people who live in Huaran, just up the valley. She provides the moral support and some cash from the profits of the cafe...its a battle. I feel slightly guilty and promise myself never to moan about lifes trivialities again..unless United get pipped for the league by Chelsea...justifiable moansoming i feel.
We rush for the train, we have forgotten the time and get on board to be whisked (or sloathed) to Aguas.
Now when i was last here this was a one halibut town with a couple of inns. My god it is a metropolis of teetering houses, hostals and the pumping heartbeat of the trip to Machu Picchu....termite mound comes to mind.
Straight to bed...5am for a sunrise.
We are whisked up to Machu Picchu by the army of buses awaiting the masses. We arrive, it is a race to get up for the sunrise which suddenly fills the valley and crowns MP in Yellow. It is justifiable as world wonder and the sight takes whatever breath you have left right out of you...it really is totally and utterly breathtaking and even for the second time you wonder at the skill of the people who put this together. Not only that but it is so perfect in its form they didn´t build it just for it to exist, it transcends that and is truly a temple to the senses.
The sun rushes across the valley and the clouds rise of the forest and the whole place is shrouded in mist which only adds to the beauty.
Why would you leave this kind of heaven and go down to Cusco to be quartered...aside from the ample supply of virgins, you could even forgo the champions league for this
kind of paradise. The silence is deafening and the views all around are eye candy but finally at 3pm we leave to go back to Aguas, although we won´t be tempted by the boiling soup which is the baths. The weather was perfect and each person leaving adds a vote for the N7W competition which will hopefully see Machu Picchu in at least
the top seven...although i don´t think it will nose past the Oracle centre in Reading
which gets the grey vote.
Monday 30 April 2007
Friday 27 April 2007
Cusco City - Capitol of the Inca Empire
That man again...Francisco Pizarro. He caught the Inca empire when it was on its knees, thoroughly exhausted after a civil war between two brothers wrestling for control of the whole capudle! A great time to walk into the capitol also coinciding with orion disappearing over the andes signalling the arrival of evil spirits to the Inca´s and old Francisco walks into town with 100 Conquistadors...the rest is history and another great people are brought to their knees. With Cusco as the spiritual capitol, one of our heroes limps of to Machu Picchu to lick his wounds and revive some of his ebbing fortune with the 150 or so vestal virgins that kept the place clean and tended the fields..well not a lot else to do if the main man is in Cusco. Foolishly he re enters Cusco after some languishing and is immediately arrested and hung, drawn and quartered. Thus the Spanish take over a kingdom of incredible proportions to go along with all the other territories they are putting to Spanish colonialism around South America. Next thing to do is to impose the catholic church and knock down the temples. They leave the foundations of the Royal Inca stonework and build their temples atop these. All the Inca stonework is Earthquake proof and the remainder of the stone is used to build the upper sections. Thus we have the beautiful combination of styles that exist today in Cusco.
The whole city was built in the shape of a puma (see below) with the head being up at Sacsayhuman, the beautiful stonework shown in the photos (below) representing the forehead wrinkles.
There are 1 million people in Cusco today and like the structures the people are greatly variegated, all mixed together to make for a busy, colourful and multicultured city. The whole town is surrounded by ruins from past occupiers and of course not far away is the Sacred Valley: with Pisac, Ollantaytambo and Machu Picchu to name but a few of the famous towns.
To add to the stew there are lots of people just trying to scratch a living and certainly the section of the population who comes of worse is the kids. We are staying in one of a number of hotels run by a charity headed by Yolinda, a native dutch lady who has taken on the incredible task of trying to bring some normality to the lives of the street children who are evident everywhere yo go in Cusco, whether helping their parents sell street food or artesania or running around like urchins trying to survive.
We are staying in Ninos 2 and as it suggests the second refuge renovated to supply accomodation for travellers and profit to put into supporting some of these children.
There is also a Hacinda in the country and they all pump mooney into the support agency for the kids. The great moment of the morning is to see the kids arriving through the hotel, we share a common entrance, in various levels of dress. Some of them work before they come to school but also some of them live in very poor conditions. they are provided a uniform and gym kit but they have to clean their own clothes which are often like the urchins clothes in ´Oliver´ with similar parallels in their lifestyle.
They are attempting to provide food, two meals a day if possible, medical and dental care along with general hygiene. This is foreign to the children along with general behaviour which again they lack in terms of social skills. It is a great charity and
staying in the hotel provides a little profit for the running of the shelters. These kids really are not given a fair chance and are likely to follow in their parents footprints. It is even harder out in the country where hardship is the norm, electricity is provided but most can´t afford the cost of it and the diet is paltry and inadequate to say the least, and anyway dental hygiene is shocking and anybody with teeth after the age of 30 is considered rather odd.
There are many other charities working in the rural areas trying to make the lot of the people here a little more bearable but it is difficult work and trying to break down long instilled patterns of male and female behaviour is possibly the most difficult task. On the way to the Sacred Valley we met a charming lady called Sonia who runs the `Hearts` cafe in Ollantaytambo. She runs the cafe and helps the ladies of the community try and salvage some self esteem from a difficult male dominated society...quite a task.
Aside from the social problems, Cusco is the most fantastic city and has some of the most incredible buildings weaved in to a fascinating social fabric and thousands of photo opportunities which would make even the most bungling of photographers a world class photo anorak...a beautiful city.
The whole city was built in the shape of a puma (see below) with the head being up at Sacsayhuman, the beautiful stonework shown in the photos (below) representing the forehead wrinkles.
There are 1 million people in Cusco today and like the structures the people are greatly variegated, all mixed together to make for a busy, colourful and multicultured city. The whole town is surrounded by ruins from past occupiers and of course not far away is the Sacred Valley: with Pisac, Ollantaytambo and Machu Picchu to name but a few of the famous towns.
To add to the stew there are lots of people just trying to scratch a living and certainly the section of the population who comes of worse is the kids. We are staying in one of a number of hotels run by a charity headed by Yolinda, a native dutch lady who has taken on the incredible task of trying to bring some normality to the lives of the street children who are evident everywhere yo go in Cusco, whether helping their parents sell street food or artesania or running around like urchins trying to survive.
We are staying in Ninos 2 and as it suggests the second refuge renovated to supply accomodation for travellers and profit to put into supporting some of these children.
There is also a Hacinda in the country and they all pump mooney into the support agency for the kids. The great moment of the morning is to see the kids arriving through the hotel, we share a common entrance, in various levels of dress. Some of them work before they come to school but also some of them live in very poor conditions. they are provided a uniform and gym kit but they have to clean their own clothes which are often like the urchins clothes in ´Oliver´ with similar parallels in their lifestyle.
They are attempting to provide food, two meals a day if possible, medical and dental care along with general hygiene. This is foreign to the children along with general behaviour which again they lack in terms of social skills. It is a great charity and
staying in the hotel provides a little profit for the running of the shelters. These kids really are not given a fair chance and are likely to follow in their parents footprints. It is even harder out in the country where hardship is the norm, electricity is provided but most can´t afford the cost of it and the diet is paltry and inadequate to say the least, and anyway dental hygiene is shocking and anybody with teeth after the age of 30 is considered rather odd.
There are many other charities working in the rural areas trying to make the lot of the people here a little more bearable but it is difficult work and trying to break down long instilled patterns of male and female behaviour is possibly the most difficult task. On the way to the Sacred Valley we met a charming lady called Sonia who runs the `Hearts` cafe in Ollantaytambo. She runs the cafe and helps the ladies of the community try and salvage some self esteem from a difficult male dominated society...quite a task.
Aside from the social problems, Cusco is the most fantastic city and has some of the most incredible buildings weaved in to a fascinating social fabric and thousands of photo opportunities which would make even the most bungling of photographers a world class photo anorak...a beautiful city.
Tuesday 24 April 2007
Arequipa to Cusco via Puno
The trip form Arequipa to Puno was uneventful and Puno is unremarkable except that it lies on Lake Titicaca and we will probably have to pass through here again on the way to Bolivia and to see the lake and its sights. For the trip from Puno to Cusco we had opted for the more expensive bus which also included a tour guide and some stops on the way to take in some sights. Plush coach and regular stops for the slackbladders! The scenery was reminiscent of Scotland and the lakes rolled into one and we stopped at Pukara (museo archeologico) , La Raya (highest point on the trip), Raqui ( a remarkable Inca settlement) and the most extraordinary church at Andahuaylillas...before we finally passed the gate at the entrance to Cusco...people were counted in and out of various sections of the Inca empire to keep headcounts of population movements. It was a fabuous trip and reinforces how spectacular Peru is in terms of culture and scenery and we are now in the gem of Peru, Cusco.
Friday 20 April 2007
Arequipa - Convento Santa Catalina
Our brief visit to the Convent of Santa Catalina threw up a few suprises. Surrounded by imposing high walls,the convent had ´streets´,plazas, cloisters, an aquaduct laundry, the bedroom ´cells´, and modern day additions of a cafeteria, shop and gallery - a city within a city. We discovered that the seventeenth century nuns, mostly daughters of high ranking spanish families knew how to have fun and the convent was known as the House of Babel until a stiff dominican prioress was appointed by the Bishop and straightened those party girls out. From that point the vast majority of nuns that lived there never ventured outside those high walls and the convent was shrouded in mystery until it finally opened to the public in 1970. A tranquil sanctuary of fascinating architecture and lifestyle...but I don´t think I´m tempted!
Arequipa - The Colca Canyon - El condoro passo
Why are all trips at stupid´o´clock in the norning? We get picked up hours before we should get up and meet our bus partners looking equally as sleepy and horrified by the hour! We set off along the Cusco road for our destination in Colca Canyon to the north. We pass through the Barrios of Arequipa which are common to all South American towns. These are unique in the fact that they are in the desert that flanks Areqipa which appears completely uninhabitable...this is no deterrent and large provinces are springing up living mainly it seems on repairing punctures for all the lorries that pass this way between Arequipa and Puno/Cusco....´The Vulcan Valley´.
We reach the Altiplano and there are large amounts of Vicuna, Alpaca and Llama families roaming around the grassy flatland. Baby Vicuna demands about US$120 a kilo whilst Alpaca about 20 sols a Kilo (US$6). In addition you only shear a Vicuna once every two years, Llamas and alpacas every year. Unfortunately walking around Arequipa the variety in price is evident...Alpaca sweaters being about a tenth that of the baby Vicuna....also all the designs seem to have been stolen from ´Frumpy Jumper´ or the ´leaping reindeer foundation´
We arrive in Chivay check into the hostal and then set out to see the Colca Valley from higher up in the hills where there are pre-columbiano tombs. All the South Americans bound up the hill like Alpaca, the europeans (thats us) and pacific rim teams (Callum, mark and Hannah from NZ) come up the rear with their tongues lolling out of their mouths like pink duvets gasping for any available oxygen! The tombs are a little dubious, the skeletons seem a little too fresh (perhaps the last tour that ventured off the path) but the view is spectacular. We stumble back to the hostal to get ready for an evening of ´celebrity come nosh and dance´ at the local hostelry. This turns out to be more fun than ´ritual humiliation in local dress´ and the evening passes without incident.
We have to be up the next day at ´sparrows´ so we all make our way back to the hostal to listen to the unidentifiable animals scurrying across the ceiling.
In the morning we go for a photo-shoot at the local town of Yanque...the locals have been dancing since sunrise for our benefit, with a collection of hawks and llamas. They are fantastic people and exhibit patience beyond the calling.
Finally we get to the lookout point for the Condors. This is a very deep canyon, the deepest in the world bar the one in the next valley...3845m -ish, a pop deeper than the Grand Canyon. Immediately the Condors start rising on the thermals and come towards us down the valley on their way to the coast or other hunting grounds. Road kill is a good bet judging by the quality of the roads and driving! As they pass close by you can appreciate their size and it´s also possible to hear the wind swishing through their enormous wings...what a sight!
In this area you can tell the difference between the two major groups of people, the Cabanas and the Collaguas. The Cabanas have tall hats which is a current manifestation of their propensity to squeeze their children at the temple from birth to make their skulls tall and thin...the Collaguas wear flat hats..they squeezed top and bottom to produce flat skulls. I prefer the hats...
We make our way back to Arequipa and revel in the scenery once more....it was great to return to the Casa de Melgar...it really feels like home and Arequipa is a gem in Peru.
We reach the Altiplano and there are large amounts of Vicuna, Alpaca and Llama families roaming around the grassy flatland. Baby Vicuna demands about US$120 a kilo whilst Alpaca about 20 sols a Kilo (US$6). In addition you only shear a Vicuna once every two years, Llamas and alpacas every year. Unfortunately walking around Arequipa the variety in price is evident...Alpaca sweaters being about a tenth that of the baby Vicuna....also all the designs seem to have been stolen from ´Frumpy Jumper´ or the ´leaping reindeer foundation´
We arrive in Chivay check into the hostal and then set out to see the Colca Valley from higher up in the hills where there are pre-columbiano tombs. All the South Americans bound up the hill like Alpaca, the europeans (thats us) and pacific rim teams (Callum, mark and Hannah from NZ) come up the rear with their tongues lolling out of their mouths like pink duvets gasping for any available oxygen! The tombs are a little dubious, the skeletons seem a little too fresh (perhaps the last tour that ventured off the path) but the view is spectacular. We stumble back to the hostal to get ready for an evening of ´celebrity come nosh and dance´ at the local hostelry. This turns out to be more fun than ´ritual humiliation in local dress´ and the evening passes without incident.
We have to be up the next day at ´sparrows´ so we all make our way back to the hostal to listen to the unidentifiable animals scurrying across the ceiling.
In the morning we go for a photo-shoot at the local town of Yanque...the locals have been dancing since sunrise for our benefit, with a collection of hawks and llamas. They are fantastic people and exhibit patience beyond the calling.
Finally we get to the lookout point for the Condors. This is a very deep canyon, the deepest in the world bar the one in the next valley...3845m -ish, a pop deeper than the Grand Canyon. Immediately the Condors start rising on the thermals and come towards us down the valley on their way to the coast or other hunting grounds. Road kill is a good bet judging by the quality of the roads and driving! As they pass close by you can appreciate their size and it´s also possible to hear the wind swishing through their enormous wings...what a sight!
In this area you can tell the difference between the two major groups of people, the Cabanas and the Collaguas. The Cabanas have tall hats which is a current manifestation of their propensity to squeeze their children at the temple from birth to make their skulls tall and thin...the Collaguas wear flat hats..they squeezed top and bottom to produce flat skulls. I prefer the hats...
We make our way back to Arequipa and revel in the scenery once more....it was great to return to the Casa de Melgar...it really feels like home and Arequipa is a gem in Peru.
Thursday 19 April 2007
Arequipa ´the white city´
It seems to me Peru has everything - wonderful cities, landscapes, culture and people....and its relatively cheap! We were not to be disappointed when we arrived in Arequipa, the ´white city´, and whisked to the Casa de Melgar, a beautiful hostel and former religious building it is assumed, as the rooms are plain and simple with serious parallels with the Franciscan monastery across the road. Like the monastery and many other buildings in the centre of the city the thick solid walls are built from sillar, the gorgeously white petrified product of the many volcanic eruptions eminating from the surrounding volcanos. It has beautiful gardens and is a tranquil sanctuary from the thousands of cheeky little taxis that constantly peep, bleet and whine down all the ancient cobbled streets. Their hope is to compact you into their tiny interior for the cheapest taxi ride I have ever come across - the equivalent of 40p anywhere in the city.
The colnial city was founded by the illustrious Francisco Pizarro in 1534 and nestles in a fertile valley under the perfect cone shaped volcano of El Misti.
There are a plethora of sights - mostly left from the colonial days. Spanish biuildings of all styles: churches, mansions, catholic convents and monasteries all built atop the original Inca buildings. The Plaza des Armes could be Cordoba with the cathedral dominating the plaza also built from sillar, white and gleaming and a survivor of all the earthquakes the city has...in fact there was a tremor on Good Friday..4 on the richter scale. There are occasional Inca remains but mostly the native indian hawkers remind you whose country you are in.
The history of Peru as of the rest of South America sings from the same hymn sheet - native indians pootling along happy to run the gaff when the Spanish turn up, invade, burn all their temples and make them go to catholic church every day! The native indians in most of the countries, whats left of them, seem second class citizens and many live in poverty - very visible to us westerners. We have to discrimminate in the end giving our change to the children or really old men and women - we can´t help everybody....its all guilt anyway....
On our arrival the first night we were plucked from the cloister in the Plaza des Armes by Ruben who took us to the very top of the plaza, the roof no less where we had the best meal in our south american adventure - not suprising as the chef was the professor in the local catering college. We sat there chomping and listening to a french choir singing a choral work in the catherdral next to us, which was broadcast to the whole plaza by loudspeaker and video as the cathedral was full. Quite ethereal.
The following days in this beautiful town consisted of visiting a Franciscan monastery,a Dominican convent of 17th century party nuns, trekking to Colca Canyon with a tour bus of international funsters, eating more fabulous meals (making sure we missed out roast guinea pig)and getting to know Emma and Rosie, just qualified medics on a months rotation at Cusco hospital and who were later to be bad influences on your intrepid friends!
The colnial city was founded by the illustrious Francisco Pizarro in 1534 and nestles in a fertile valley under the perfect cone shaped volcano of El Misti.
There are a plethora of sights - mostly left from the colonial days. Spanish biuildings of all styles: churches, mansions, catholic convents and monasteries all built atop the original Inca buildings. The Plaza des Armes could be Cordoba with the cathedral dominating the plaza also built from sillar, white and gleaming and a survivor of all the earthquakes the city has...in fact there was a tremor on Good Friday..4 on the richter scale. There are occasional Inca remains but mostly the native indian hawkers remind you whose country you are in.
The history of Peru as of the rest of South America sings from the same hymn sheet - native indians pootling along happy to run the gaff when the Spanish turn up, invade, burn all their temples and make them go to catholic church every day! The native indians in most of the countries, whats left of them, seem second class citizens and many live in poverty - very visible to us westerners. We have to discrimminate in the end giving our change to the children or really old men and women - we can´t help everybody....its all guilt anyway....
On our arrival the first night we were plucked from the cloister in the Plaza des Armes by Ruben who took us to the very top of the plaza, the roof no less where we had the best meal in our south american adventure - not suprising as the chef was the professor in the local catering college. We sat there chomping and listening to a french choir singing a choral work in the catherdral next to us, which was broadcast to the whole plaza by loudspeaker and video as the cathedral was full. Quite ethereal.
The following days in this beautiful town consisted of visiting a Franciscan monastery,a Dominican convent of 17th century party nuns, trekking to Colca Canyon with a tour bus of international funsters, eating more fabulous meals (making sure we missed out roast guinea pig)and getting to know Emma and Rosie, just qualified medics on a months rotation at Cusco hospital and who were later to be bad influences on your intrepid friends!
Arica to Arequipa, Peru
Tickets or no tickets, that is the question? Feeling like í´d been ripped off for the first time and holding tickets which were possibly non-tickets we arrived at Arica bus terminal. In order to get to Arequipa you have to get a collectivo from Arica to Tacna in Peru with all the border-bolleaux to go through...there you catch your bus to your chosen port of call. Our miserable nail-filer of the morning looked at us as if i had smudged her freshly painted nails with a egg flipper... begrudgingly she accompanied us to the collectivo park. On the way we met Rodrigo who had accosted me the day before for a fare to Tacna...this was fate. He had a ´88 Chevvy...Classic with big bench seat and he was going to get his alloted 5 personas in the car and all the luggage come hell or...Fo and I were on the front bench snuggled up with rodrigo. He was thirty, had three children and was charming company to the border. The other people were all Peruvians who worked in Arica for Chilean Pesos which was considerably more than they would get in a similar job in Peru. His dad had the next collectivo to us in the lot at the border. Formalities were quick..we were in Peru! He dropped us off in Tacna and we hopped on a Economico bus to Arequipa. The first police checkpoint in Peru, a small distance out of Tacna we were all unloaded with all our goods. Extranjeros were left alone but all the other rice sacks, cases, boxes and chickens were thoroughly checked. There were tears, shouting, flailing limbs and retribution. Good idea not to try and sneak your favorite cheese back home where transport of dairy and vegetable goods is forbidden.
We moved on. The scenery was desert all the way with small oasis in the valleys.
In front of me was a charming Indian fellow and his family who had been subject to most of the searches. He had a beautiful ´Inca konk´ and looked all the way an Inca prince although he was dressed in civvies. His wife was still tearful, all their possessions were in 4 rice sacks and a case and they were returning home to a village in the Vilcabamba valley just north of Cusco after four years of working in Arica. He was charnming and gave us a running commentary of the areas as we ran through them. He was very proud of his country and this enthusiasm hadn´t been dampened by harsh treatment at the hands of the checkpoint `bastardos´. All the villages we went through were now thoroughly peruvian with wonderful Indios in traditional dress offering all manner of fayre to eat on the bus. Lomo saltado, Chiclos con Queso y pollo any way you like...fabulous. Bus journeys in Peru are very special and you can start a journey in Peru and end up ten pounds heavier if you take all the food options. Refusing most on offer we eventually arrived in the Arequipa Valley, surrounded by mountains on all sides with the Misti volcano dominating the town..is this the ´Led Zep..misty mountain hop´? nobody seemed to know. Ola! Arequipa, the ´white city´ never disappoints. I said goodbye to our Inca prince and his lovely family, he had three more bus stations before he returned to the bosom.
We moved on. The scenery was desert all the way with small oasis in the valleys.
In front of me was a charming Indian fellow and his family who had been subject to most of the searches. He had a beautiful ´Inca konk´ and looked all the way an Inca prince although he was dressed in civvies. His wife was still tearful, all their possessions were in 4 rice sacks and a case and they were returning home to a village in the Vilcabamba valley just north of Cusco after four years of working in Arica. He was charnming and gave us a running commentary of the areas as we ran through them. He was very proud of his country and this enthusiasm hadn´t been dampened by harsh treatment at the hands of the checkpoint `bastardos´. All the villages we went through were now thoroughly peruvian with wonderful Indios in traditional dress offering all manner of fayre to eat on the bus. Lomo saltado, Chiclos con Queso y pollo any way you like...fabulous. Bus journeys in Peru are very special and you can start a journey in Peru and end up ten pounds heavier if you take all the food options. Refusing most on offer we eventually arrived in the Arequipa Valley, surrounded by mountains on all sides with the Misti volcano dominating the town..is this the ´Led Zep..misty mountain hop´? nobody seemed to know. Ola! Arequipa, the ´white city´ never disappoints. I said goodbye to our Inca prince and his lovely family, he had three more bus stations before he returned to the bosom.
Monday 16 April 2007
North to Arica
It was time to move in a large step and we booked flights to Arica, 1500km north, from Temuco via Santiago. The alternative was a 42 hour bus journey...hmmm. The prime motive was to go to Arica, the final town in the north of Chile before the Peruvian border but also a place Will Damps visited on a number of occasions. One of the visits was a bungled attempt to sack the town, although Will didn't leave the ship, along with the other 94 tooled up buccaneers hoping for a easy kill. Unfortunately the towns fort was full and the spanish were ready for them. They moored some miles to the south of Arica and made their way into town. They left empty handed and depleted in numbers (down to 48 from 94)after a skirmish near the town culminating in the spanish dropping boulders on them from the cliffs above and peppering them with shot. We walked along what seemed to be the most likely route and it was easy to imagine our hapless group getting into trouble along the hot arid boulder strewn passage coupled with the dark and being chased out of town by the garrison looking for blood.
We put ourselves up in the posh Hotel Arica which included a pool under its list of services...after all it was time for a treat as we say farewell to Chile for the present.
Arica is a small, slightly unremarkable town with a border feel to it but with a beatiful Pacific coast aspect. Crashing waves, rocky beaches with great surfing to the north. Not much to do and less to see but with glorious weather and gorgeous tropical flora and deserts all around. Unfortunately due to its various industries and its total disregard for 'Poo disposal' a lot of the beaches to the south were unusable. We stared at the gorgeous rollers and sand rather crestfallen and went back to the safety of the hotel pool. In town we visited the two sites of interest, both built by Eifel, the church and the Douanes. We went to the Arica/La Paz station which is now defunct but still conjured up images of rather grander days of steam, buffet cars and lengthy mountain passes between great Andean centres of trade.
We booked a bus to Arequipa via Tacna and it is Peru 'here we come', Llamas and all...
We put ourselves up in the posh Hotel Arica which included a pool under its list of services...after all it was time for a treat as we say farewell to Chile for the present.
Arica is a small, slightly unremarkable town with a border feel to it but with a beatiful Pacific coast aspect. Crashing waves, rocky beaches with great surfing to the north. Not much to do and less to see but with glorious weather and gorgeous tropical flora and deserts all around. Unfortunately due to its various industries and its total disregard for 'Poo disposal' a lot of the beaches to the south were unusable. We stared at the gorgeous rollers and sand rather crestfallen and went back to the safety of the hotel pool. In town we visited the two sites of interest, both built by Eifel, the church and the Douanes. We went to the Arica/La Paz station which is now defunct but still conjured up images of rather grander days of steam, buffet cars and lengthy mountain passes between great Andean centres of trade.
We booked a bus to Arequipa via Tacna and it is Peru 'here we come', Llamas and all...
Sunday 15 April 2007
Pucon 5-10 April 2007
Naturally we went to the station in Puerto Montt and a rather surprised ticket master in her booth stared at us as if we had dunked our chocolate bourbons in her morning cuppa. ´´No trains till next week!´´ A beautiful new station and no trains to put in it... Railtrack you have competition! We turn the taxi man around and head for the Bus-station. Rather remarkably 20 miles out of PM and the sun came out, birds chirruped in the trees and small rabbits skipped in a world with no Coronation Street. Had we entered Toon-town or was PM just a sufficient distance behind us for the world to start spinning the other way? Good riddance PM. The land was transformed to lush, fertile rolling hills with verdant valleys running to the Pacific, westwards.
Arriving in the beauty of Pucon after the hell-hole of the-place-that-shall-not-be-named was an ethereal delight for your two venturing heroes! We checked into Ecole! a vegetarian hostel, all dreamcatchers and sandals, that made Marks face turn inside out for a bit but he grew to love and appreciate it after a couple of days. We had the tiniest cabana to share, our lumpy beds covered in hand crocheted blankies and Mark was close enough for me to whack him in the night with a vegetarian leg of ham. His snoring even woke the german vegans next door through the hardboard wall and mutterings of ´sheise englander´ didn´t disturb sleeping beauty you will pleased to hear....are vegans allowed to swear?
Pucon is to the southern end of Lake Villarica, very lush, mountains to its foot and the crater of Volcano Villarica to the north, a stunning backdrop. And it is smokin´! Luckily Pucon is a spiritual community, we even had a white witch in the bar at Ecole (ola Asmi...only the eighth white witch I have met in person, one other being Lucy...Ola Lucy!!) and this helped dissipate all murderous thoughts I had been closeting since PM. We spent our Easter weekend there and needless to say we didn´t go to church or touch one iota of chocolate - instead we treated ourselves to Reike sessions, thermal spas, reflexology and full body massages! - oh, and a little choccy fondue! The only thing vaguely cardiovascular was an inappropriate mountain bike ride up to a waterfall - Salto Claro - so high we never reached it - and inappropriate for a girl of my stature and inbalance who hasn´t ridden a bike since Eastbourne 1980. You can imagine the toll it took on the parts other beers cannot reach - never to be repeated. Nada, niet, nein.
Nevertheless Pucon was an oasis in our Chilean desert, we have high hopes that Arica where we head next, will also prove the saving grace of a country that has great and varied landscapes but awful coffee and the customer service skills of Basil Fawlty. Dampier himself had a similar opinion as his ship moored to the south of Arica to sack the town...but he himself refused to get off! Nuff said......
Arriving in the beauty of Pucon after the hell-hole of the-place-that-shall-not-be-named was an ethereal delight for your two venturing heroes! We checked into Ecole! a vegetarian hostel, all dreamcatchers and sandals, that made Marks face turn inside out for a bit but he grew to love and appreciate it after a couple of days. We had the tiniest cabana to share, our lumpy beds covered in hand crocheted blankies and Mark was close enough for me to whack him in the night with a vegetarian leg of ham. His snoring even woke the german vegans next door through the hardboard wall and mutterings of ´sheise englander´ didn´t disturb sleeping beauty you will pleased to hear....are vegans allowed to swear?
Pucon is to the southern end of Lake Villarica, very lush, mountains to its foot and the crater of Volcano Villarica to the north, a stunning backdrop. And it is smokin´! Luckily Pucon is a spiritual community, we even had a white witch in the bar at Ecole (ola Asmi...only the eighth white witch I have met in person, one other being Lucy...Ola Lucy!!) and this helped dissipate all murderous thoughts I had been closeting since PM. We spent our Easter weekend there and needless to say we didn´t go to church or touch one iota of chocolate - instead we treated ourselves to Reike sessions, thermal spas, reflexology and full body massages! - oh, and a little choccy fondue! The only thing vaguely cardiovascular was an inappropriate mountain bike ride up to a waterfall - Salto Claro - so high we never reached it - and inappropriate for a girl of my stature and inbalance who hasn´t ridden a bike since Eastbourne 1980. You can imagine the toll it took on the parts other beers cannot reach - never to be repeated. Nada, niet, nein.
Nevertheless Pucon was an oasis in our Chilean desert, we have high hopes that Arica where we head next, will also prove the saving grace of a country that has great and varied landscapes but awful coffee and the customer service skills of Basil Fawlty. Dampier himself had a similar opinion as his ship moored to the south of Arica to sack the town...but he himself refused to get off! Nuff said......
Puerto Montt
Two things about Puerto Montt, one its s%*!...the other...? All I can say whoever now has my credit and debit cards, my driving licence and my address book, I hope all your teeth rot and you have to have the most excruciating dental treatment forever! BTW the Gendarmerie building is an architectural bottom and....well....Bastardos! Pleasure is PM in your rearview mirror on a tourbus full of vegetables...with best regards Fo xx
Tuesday 3 April 2007
Puerto Natales to Puerto Montt...Il Barco Bizarro
We arrive back in Puerto Natales in driving rain and the wind whistling around any creaky signs it can find...Puerto Natales is shrouded in a blanket..we make our booking at the Crazy Darwin Inn for a second time and the price has halved since we went away...such are the vagaries of Inn pricing in Chile! The boat is delayed and we revisit Il Maritimo where all the crew and passengers are in the same boat...or not.
The weather remains bracing all night and into the next day and we are set for a boarding time of 9pm after watching the boat being blown around the bay for most of the morning like a feather in a bird-bath..Fo intimates she has womanly feelings of forboding about the trip...understandable and slightly parrot on shoulder, spooky screeching one toothed tarot reading, blackbeard, squeeky sign of the ´Old Crow´ kind of forboding...i´m looking forward to this little trip..nyet!!
We board at nine, with all the other victims err....i mean passengers. We are all taken..a la ¨Man from Uncle¨ on a large metal moving floor to the deck and we notice the moos coming from all the trailers parked on deck..Oh no a ´livestock holiday´ boat-trip. Many cows are crammed into their respective trailers and a truck load of horses, live stock or dinner tomorrow night?
The cabins are great and there a many familiar travellers from Torres and other trips.
The weather beats at the Porthole. By a combination of gross negligence to the budget and consideration for other human beings (primarily my gentle cat like snoring) we have a four person bunkhouse for two...thankfully in all considerations.
The trip is due to take 3 days and four nights and it is really a booze cruise with Glaciers. Its takes a 1300km route through the Fjords with a deft swipe into the Pacific ocean for 12 hours with hopefully Whale watching and other wildlife joining us periodically.
The first day is overcast , blowy and foggy but the silence is deafening, the views
beautiful. Nothing but glacial hills, festooned with trees and black, cold, deep fjords beneath us, 900m in some cases.
The weather remains close for the first two days and high stakes Poker is going 24 hours a day, largely amongst the teenage german students, the cows are mooing their discontent and the Fog is set in. We venture out into the Pacific stretch, it is rough, the students are revolting (into plastic bags), the whole boat retires to their quarters. On the third day the sun welcomes the dawn. We all race to the deck. Its 360 degrees of beautiful panoramic Chilean Fjords. On this day the whole boat suns itself on deck and we spot whales, seals, sealions?? and a couple of towns, the only sign of life on the incredible virgin 1300km stretch of coastline.
The last evening a Blue whales hump..perhaps..rises majestically in the water beside the boat and there is a great spurt of water..was it a bluey? It makes the trip worthwhile.
A mention must be given to our tour guide. She had a voice like a songbird, was actually 'fast show` material throughout and the last night of Patagonian Bingo should be filmed for a anyone who appreciates vaudeville and ritual humiliation. Her tannoy announcements will ring in my ears for many months until i seek psychiatric help or i get my iPod fixed...thank you Navimag!
We arrive in Puerto Montt with a final Tannoy announcement at 4.30am just after the last aussie ´tot` full of rum has passed out...would the driver of the red truck...sleep is short...Ola! Puerto Montt and hotel bed, the moos are silenced at last, their fate is probably a lomo somewhere....
The weather remains bracing all night and into the next day and we are set for a boarding time of 9pm after watching the boat being blown around the bay for most of the morning like a feather in a bird-bath..Fo intimates she has womanly feelings of forboding about the trip...understandable and slightly parrot on shoulder, spooky screeching one toothed tarot reading, blackbeard, squeeky sign of the ´Old Crow´ kind of forboding...i´m looking forward to this little trip..nyet!!
We board at nine, with all the other victims err....i mean passengers. We are all taken..a la ¨Man from Uncle¨ on a large metal moving floor to the deck and we notice the moos coming from all the trailers parked on deck..Oh no a ´livestock holiday´ boat-trip. Many cows are crammed into their respective trailers and a truck load of horses, live stock or dinner tomorrow night?
The cabins are great and there a many familiar travellers from Torres and other trips.
The weather beats at the Porthole. By a combination of gross negligence to the budget and consideration for other human beings (primarily my gentle cat like snoring) we have a four person bunkhouse for two...thankfully in all considerations.
The trip is due to take 3 days and four nights and it is really a booze cruise with Glaciers. Its takes a 1300km route through the Fjords with a deft swipe into the Pacific ocean for 12 hours with hopefully Whale watching and other wildlife joining us periodically.
The first day is overcast , blowy and foggy but the silence is deafening, the views
beautiful. Nothing but glacial hills, festooned with trees and black, cold, deep fjords beneath us, 900m in some cases.
The weather remains close for the first two days and high stakes Poker is going 24 hours a day, largely amongst the teenage german students, the cows are mooing their discontent and the Fog is set in. We venture out into the Pacific stretch, it is rough, the students are revolting (into plastic bags), the whole boat retires to their quarters. On the third day the sun welcomes the dawn. We all race to the deck. Its 360 degrees of beautiful panoramic Chilean Fjords. On this day the whole boat suns itself on deck and we spot whales, seals, sealions?? and a couple of towns, the only sign of life on the incredible virgin 1300km stretch of coastline.
The last evening a Blue whales hump..perhaps..rises majestically in the water beside the boat and there is a great spurt of water..was it a bluey? It makes the trip worthwhile.
A mention must be given to our tour guide. She had a voice like a songbird, was actually 'fast show` material throughout and the last night of Patagonian Bingo should be filmed for a anyone who appreciates vaudeville and ritual humiliation. Her tannoy announcements will ring in my ears for many months until i seek psychiatric help or i get my iPod fixed...thank you Navimag!
We arrive in Puerto Montt with a final Tannoy announcement at 4.30am just after the last aussie ´tot` full of rum has passed out...would the driver of the red truck...sleep is short...Ola! Puerto Montt and hotel bed, the moos are silenced at last, their fate is probably a lomo somewhere....
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