Los Glaciares

Petra, James & Andrew at Piedras Blancas Glacier

Joined by my brother, Andrew, (who had gambled his remaining holiday allowance on 2 weeks of good weather in Patagonia - brave or foolish?!) we jumped on a bus for the 4 hr trip from El Calafate to a little town called El Chalten.

As we approached the town, the bus pulled into the National Park office, where we we offloaded for an introductory talk about Los Glaciares NP by one of the local rangers. We were told with much enthusiasm that all the water in the NP - including from the lakes - is drinkable, (a fact of which they are justly proud) and were given a straightforward and helpful chat about how to keep it that way - unspoiled. How refreshing to see such a proactive and educational approach to conservation, by people who exuded passion for their job.

Cerro Torre

This good initial impression was borne out by the quality of the park management, and as we trekked around the park, in search of the Holy Grail - a sighting of the elusive Mount Fitz Roy and Cerro Torre, we were enormously impressed by the quality of the paths, way-marking and campsites. They were not only well executed but also done in such a way as to create the minimal possible impact on the environment. And to top it all, the whole thing was free! Well done Los Glaciares National Park!

The very top of Cerro Torre - the region's highest peak - remained obstinately in the cloud for the time we were there, but we wee still lucky enough to avoid rain for our first 2 days of walking. When we reached the viewpoint for Mount Fitz Roy at the end of day 1, we were treated to a truly magnificent sunset over one of the most spectacular mountain scenes imaginable. About as close as I've been to a truly religious experience.

Mount Fitz Roy

The next day the cloud was slightly lower, but we were still able to get good views of another local glacier, still very impressive in its own right.
Our last hopes of another visit to the Fitz Roy viewpoint were dashed when we woke up on the morning of day 3 to the sound of rain drumming on canvas. The camper's nightmare. There was nothing else for it but to hot-foot it back down the path to the early bus home and a hot shower. But we had seen what we came to see and we were happy!

Patagonia...at last!

After a gruelling 30 hr bus ride, we arrived in Patagonia proper - a part of the trip that we had both been itching for. El Calafate, our base for the first few days was quite aptly described by one of our fellow travellers as 'Disneyland for glaciers', being just a modern town with a proliferation of outdoor outfitters, tour agents and souvenir shops. What it did offer though, was access to some of the most spectacular glaciers and wilderness areas in the world. I had been so excited about Patagonia before arriving, that I was slightly concerned the reality could never live up to the image in my head. I needn't have lost sleep on that score.
On one of our first days in town, we took a trip out to the Perito Moreno Glacier. A truly awe-inspiring sight, even when one is surrounded by hordes of shutter-happy Japanese tourists!The glacier is just one small part of the Southern Patagonian Ice-field, which covers a incredible 22,000 sq km (that's bigger than Wales!). This enormous snow factory is constantly regenerating the Perito Moreno glacier, resulting in an advance at the glacier face of a staggering 1m per day. As you stand there with your camera poised, huge chunks of blue ice the size of houses creak and topple into the lake in front of you, to form giant icebergs, which can still be seen many kms away.The glacier flows into Lago Argentino and cuts the lake in half. The 2 parts are not of equal size and the level in one part slowly rises above the other. The difference was about 2m when we were there. Occasionally the pressure gets to the stage where the water forces a tunnel through the ice and then 4 or for 5 days later the tunnel collapses spectacularly in what is known as the "Big Break". Sadly we weren´t there for it - not surprisingly - it has only happened about 16 times since 1960! Luckily all the tourist shops in El Calafate show videos of the 2006 break looped continuously - it was almost like being there!

With our memory cards suitably bursting with photos, it was time to get away from the tourist swarms and head for the hills!

Whales, Whales, bleeping big fishes are Whales!!

Ok so the title is mildly misleading and I would like to stop any comments by making it clear that I know whales are mammals not fishes but it was a particuarly good chant Petra once overheard at a Wales rugby match!

We decided to put a small diversion on our southerly route and take a hard left to head due east from the mountains to the Argentinian Atlantic coast - just the minor issue of a 10 hour overnight bus ride!

The reason for this bizarre behaviour was whales. A combination of cold northerly currents mixing with warm southerly currents and a sheltered bay makes the Peninsula Valdes near Puerto Madryn a breeding haven for Southern Right Whales from July to December - the sheltered Gulfo Nuevo is packed full of the things (a bit like oversized sardines!).

We decided not to go on a tour from Puerto Madryn as they often don´t offer much time on the water so headed to the little village of Puerto Piramides that turns from sleepy fishing village to whale watching central for a few months each year. The company Moby Dick had been recommended to us for long tours in a small boat that are the best - especially the 5pm sailing which as the last in the day goes on longer than the rest. Sadly we spent the day on a windy beach praying for the wind to drop as all other sailings on this boat had been cancelled. We were about to swollow our pride and go on a big boat with everyone else for a quick trip when Moby Dick confirmed that we couldn´t go at 5pm but they would put on a special 8am sailing the next day that we could go on - hoorah!
The tour was great! Being in a RIB meant we were close to the action and in nearly 3 hours on the water saw over 10 whales including calfs. At one stage we had 4 bobbing round the boat - literaly within touching distance! These spectacular animals are superb. After hanging around on the surface for a few minutes they would dive showing off their enormous tails as they disappeared out of sight. It was a real privilege to see so many of them and so close. Being on the early boat meant that we were the only ones out so the 20 or so of us onboard had a private show - superb! I can confirm however that whales have very bad breath!

Amusingly we met an Lonely Planet researcher who offered us a lift back to the main town rather than wait for the bus. He might have regretted this as we spent the next hour interrogating him about the inner workings of the Lonely Planet.

The final spectacle was very unexpected. We were sitting on the beach in Puerto Madryn when we spotted a whale some 200 yards off shore - very unusual. It then did a series of 10 breaches - jumping out of the water and slamming down. It was the only thing we hadn´t seen from the boat and was the icing on the cake.

Time to turn our compass back south and jump 10 degrees down into deepest darkest Patagonia..............

Feliz Navidad!

Feels like we've been doing a bit better recently on the blog entries... nearly up to date!

Watch this space for news about our whale-watching trip and some awesome trekking in Patagonia!

It just seemed worth a quick 'real time' entry, as we have now reached the southern-most part of our journey in South America, (Punta Arenas in Chile at 53 degrees South) and have started the long haul back north to Santiago. The bottom of Patagonia really did feel like the End of the World! but in a beautiful and unspoilt kind of way.

Just wanted to get in a quick 'MERRY CHRISTMAS!' too, before all of you finish work for the hols. They don't really celebrate Christmas as much out here as we do back at home - for which James is extremely grateful, but I am disappointed! - no mince pies and mulled wine for Petra this year:-( so it will be a pretty low-key affair. We are headed back to Bariloche, in Argentina, to spend christmas in one of our favorite hostels so far, where we also stayed on our way south. Think of us having a big lamb grill in the sun while you're all tucking into your turkey!

So, thanks to everyone who has made the effort to follow the blog so far, (we are constantly amazed and touched by how many of you comment on it) . A very Merry Christmas to you and all your families, and all the best for a great start to 2008!

Petra & James

Welsh Patagonia

When you arrive in a town with streetnames like Calle Llewelyn Davies and Avenida Wyn-Jones, after a few minutes of confusion, you realise you must have landed in a random welsh community somewhere deep in Patagonia. In the 1860's a few hardy taff's (no doubt lured by the prospect of infinite land to graze their sheep) made the trip across to the New World, and introduced civilisation (otherwise known as tea-shops!) to Patagonia. Some of the vilages they estabished still exist today as outposts of welsh cuture, dotted over the south of Argentina.

Since we were in the neighbourhood, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to visit the (South American) Land of my Fathers, and the lure of the Welsh Tea was of course too great. James and I found ourselves in the quaint little town of Trevelin(Mill Town) for a few days.
In the style of traditional welsh home cooking, 'tea' was infact more like a 3-course meal, with a huge streaming pot of tea (the best we'd had in South America) accompanied by home-made bread, scones, cheese, butter, jam, and no less than 5 different types of cakes! A hungry backpacker's dream!On mentioning that I was born in Wales, many of the locals including the owners of the teahouse were keen to try out their welsh on me. Unfortunately the only words I can remember from my time in Swansea are those which appear on signposts, such as Push, Pull and No Parking, which don't make for great conversation!

We needed the next few days to work off the effects of the cake overload in the beautiful nearby 'Los Alerces' National Park, where we hiked up to another snow-bound refugio, in the middle of nowhere, and unmanned this time. We had the tiny little place to ourselves, and spend the night huddled up by the wood-burning stove hoping that this wouldn't be the night when the roof blew off! It was SO cold!

Argentine Food and Drink

No blog about time in Argentina would be complete without mention of the food and drink - it is simply sensational.

Lets start with the food, and where better than the steak. Now we have got used to the system we greatly enjoy watching the shock on other tourist´s faces when a piece of meat the size of a football arrives on their plate! This is normally the 500g bife de chorizo - or sirloin steak to you and me - and it is worth ordering one to share. This isn´t any old chewy, fatty piece of meat - it is lovely, succulent and tasty. In fact I´m getting hungry just thinking of it. Other options we have tried are the fillet steak (devine), chorizo sausage (mmmm) and blood sausage (mmmm). We have also tried a lovely cut called the entraña but yet to work out what that is in English. The Argentines do not believe in wasting any meat so the normally menu includes intenstines, sweatbreads etc but so far we have avoided these.
Meat table at Alberto's before it hits the grill

All the above meat is normally cooked on a huge barbeque - or Parilla as it is called here. This is a complex construction where the charcoal is only placed under the grill when it is already white hot, there is normally a fire on the side to keep a supply ready. The grill is on a mechanism to lower, raise and tilt it to ensure the meat is done perfectly. All in all, at a good parilla restaurant (of which there are many to choose from) you can expect a a piece of meat like you will get no where else.

The 'Parilla'

The Italians have a large influence here and are one of the largest immigrant groups. This means a lot of great pasta and pizzas. I have to admit that we haven´t tried much of this as our focus has been on the steaks but what we have tried would give the locals of Naples a run for their money!

The other important import from Italy is the ice cream. Most towns have a selection of "Heladerias Artesenal" - homemade ice cream shops. They are all good but there is one in Bariloche and nearby towns called Jauja that takes the biscuit. More flavours than you can shake a cone at (well over 50) and all delicious. We haven´t quite made our way through them all yet but we did pretty well and are heading back there for Christmas. My favourite was Fig and Nut where Petra was very partial to the Dulce de Leche Merengue. Getting even hungrier.

Petra & James enjoying a platter of regional goodies! Mmmmm!

On the subject of immigrants and sweet food, the Swiss moved to Argentina in droves at various stages, especially to the very alpine-esque Lake District. Here they continued their tradition of chocolate making. In Bariloche your can´t swing a cat for chocolate shops. All lovely shops offering an astonishing range of home-made style chocolates. Really delicious - we didn´t try enough to select a favourite flavour - that is how big the choice is!!

Argentina specialises in Empanadas - a kind of savoury pastry a little like a Cornish Pasty. The normal flavours are meat, chicken and ham & cheese but if you look hard you can find shops that make them fresh with a whole range of options - tomato, basil & mozerella, roquefort, arabian (lemon and beef), vegetable and so many more. They make a great snack before a night bus or when you can´t face any more steak.

On a final sweet note, the Argentines love Dulce de Leche - caremelised condensed milk. It is spread on bread, put in tarts, pastries and chocolates are filled with it and we love it! We desperately try to show self restraint when we walk past a bakery but feel we have deserved it post trekking and fairly often succumb at other times. Just got to keep walking and we´ll be ok! Andrew (Petra´s brother) was able to show less self restraint and bought a tub of the stuff for pudding. When we asked what he was going to eat it with the response was: "a spoon of course!".

Right then, after all that I am starving so off to find some grub - making ourselves sausage and lentil stew for tea. Will save the drink section of this for another day.

Bariloche Part 2 - the slimming!

Having waved a sad goodbye to Sam and Anna we decided to start losing the pounds all the steaks, wine, chocolate and ice creams had added - not to mention saving some of the other types of pounds!

The snow line was still quite low but we worked out a possible mostly low level route. Firstly we headed up from Argentina´s premier ski resort (sadly not enough snow for this!) up a path to Refugio Frey. This hut is situated overlooking a lake with jagged peaks all around. There were increasingly large patches of snow for most of the second half of the walk and snow proper for about the last hour. The path was very clear and well trodden but we did fall through a couple of times - me to my knees, Petra to her waist! The Refugio was lovely and completely snow bound. The Club Andino Bariloche (CAB) do a great job keeping it open all year round. The staff did mention that not many people make it during the winter though. We spent a pleasant 45 minutes chatting to them and eating Oreos before heading down to camp. The accomodation at the Refugio was one large room and there was a large school party on the way that we didn´t fancy sharing with! We camped in a wood on a dry patch of land but there was a large snowfield up hill and more snow in the woods downhill. We tucked ourselves into our sleeping bags early but didn´t get much sleep - it was freezing! Our wet boots froze solid and both the inside and outside of the tent were covered in ice - brrrr! As we melted snow to cook porridge for breakfast we promised ourselves a warmer spot that evening.

Last part of walk to refugio Frey (visible in distance)

Normally on trekking trips we have clear duties. These have never been formally decided but have come into existence based on how we shared out the kit on our first trek. Petra carries the stove, pans, cups etc and is responsible for making sure they make it into her pack. I take the tent and first aid kit amongst others. One of mine is toothpaste and unfortunately this time I let the side down - the toothpaste and my toothbrush were sitting merrily by the sink in our hostel while we froze on the mountainside! After some discussion we decided that 3 days without brushing our teeth was just too grim. We walked back the way we had come until a fork in the path. It was about a one anf a half hour walk back to the afore mentioned ski resort where we hoped there might be a supermarket. As it was my fault and because I enjoy such things, I set off to replace the missing articles. By running sections I made it to the resort, found a minimarket with the necessary and back to Petra in one and half hours - good unplanned training. It has been suggested I could come up with a better story - something like medical emergency, waist deep snow, through the night, fought of a yeti and the like but I imagine Petra would tell you all the truth if I tried anything like that.

After this we headed down the other fork to a lake. We had planned to carry on to the end of the lake but we came across a beautiful lakeside spot with our own private beach so decided to stop short - it had nothing to do with tiredness on my part! It was a lovely spot and we lit a fire, toasted frankfurters and generally chilled out. It was certainly warmer than the previous night but cold enough for us to decide to search for fleece liners when we got back to Bariloche.

The next day the weather continued to play ball and we trekked along the lake, down a road and round a bit of another lake until mid afternoon. During all this we came across two fantastic golden retrievers who followed us for a while and we ended up having to be agressive to get them to head back for home as neared the main road. We had intended to climb up to another smaller lake but a poor map, vague directions and frustrations trying to cross numerous rivers combined with coming across another lovely campsite made us stop early. Afterall we had walked further than planned with an early stop the night before and not finding the promised bus for the section along the road. It was another lovely spot with a fire and private beach where we were able to continue to enjoy the surprisingly fine if somewhat windy weather.

The next morning we ambled back to the road and headed back to our hostel. It wasn´t the most challenging 3 and a bitdays trekking we have ever done but beautiful and it certainly helped work of the steaks and ensure we could enjoy our few days in a luxury hotel guilt free.

Going down...... (Bariloche Part1)

It seems that of all the places we've stayed in South America, the mountain towns are the ones we love best, and Bariloche was no exception. In one swift jump (otherwise known as an overnight bus) we hopped from Mendoza to San Martin de los Andes (where we had our first taste of northern Patagonia) and then to Bariloche. One's impression of a new place is affected by many different things - the weather, who you're with, how your accomodation measures up, and of course the look and feel of a place. It would be hard to down-score Bariloche on any of these counts.


Things started well with the drive into town along the shores of lake Nahuel Huapi, on which Bariloche sits, facing majestic ranges of snow-capped peaks, across the brilliant blue water of the lake.

Our taxi ride to the hostel from the bus station took us down a street where every other shop was a chocolate shop. The establishments which weren't purveyors of top mouth-watering sweet-meats sold outdoor gear. I knew I was going to feel at home here! And to top it all, our hostel in Bariloche, Periko's, turned out to be one of our favourites of the trip so far.
On our first day in town, accompanied by Sam and Anna , we hired bikes and went for a jaunt around the Llao Llao penninsular - a beautiful headland, just outside Bariloche, encompassing some of the finest real estate in Argentina, and home to half the country's rich retirees. We set off in brilliant sunshine, and enjoyed our first few kilometres of stunning coastal and mountain scenery. At lunchtime we stopped in a sheltered bay for a quick snack, and lulled into a false sense of security by how beautiful the weather had been until that point, proceded with the second sunscreen application of the day... BIG mistake. In a matter of minutes, the skies clouded over and about half way round our intended route, we forced to take shelter in a hot-dog kiosk, as the heavens opened, and it started raining with a fury only known in places called 'the Lake District'.

We were soon joined by several other unfortunates who had hired bikes from the same location, and in no time at all, 8 fellow drwoned rats on bikes were huddled in the kiosk, peering hopefully at the sky. After 1.5 hrs, in which time the rain showed no sign of abating, we decided enough was enough. The thought of pedalling the remaining 12 kms in driving wind and rain was too much even for the hardcore boys, and we resorted to calling the guy who had hired us the bikes. It took surprisingly little begging to persuade him to come and pick us up in his SUV, and transport 8 drenched customers plus bikes back to the warmth of an open fire and cup of tea. What a star! Yet more evidence for the unremitting friendliness of the Argentinians.

After the biking ordeal, we were of course hungry (again!) for some (more!) Argentinian beef. In our never-ending quest for the best steak in Argentina (its a tough job, but someone's got to do it!) we took ourselves off to Alberto's, the most famous 'Parilla' in town, where as the guidebook says, "Its worth dining at this esteemed parilla simply to see the astonished look on tourists' faces when a slab of beef the size of a football lands on the table".


They don't exaggerate. It is still beyond me after more than a month in Argentina why they even bother to include on the menu portions of steak weighing 500g. Once added to a pile of chips the size of a small mountain, plus a generous portion of chorizo or blood sausage, this is surely more than a normal human being (even James) can consume in one sitting, no?
We contented ourselves with sharing one of these football sized slabs of meat, if only to save room for the icing on the cake, as it were. A trip to Jauja's ice-cream parlour, where they serve a bamboozling array of top notch italian quality ice-cream (as a sort of 'digestif' for the steak if you like) and accomodatingly remain open till after 12pm! Mmmmmm!

Good job there are so many mountains, or I could get seriously fat living here!

Buenos Aires

So, from Cordoba, our next destination was the big city - BA. Surely the most charming of all South American capital cities. We were lucky to find ourselves a lovely hostel, called the Garden House, a little outside the main city centre, which acted as a home-from-home in the big city, and was the first place we'd stayed for a good while where we could comfortably cook for ourselves (and hence have what felt like a 'normal' meal - simple things, but I've missed that so much!)

We had planned to be in BA over the weekend to catch the Rugby World Cup semi's, in order to cheer for England and Argentina, the respective underdogs in each match. That weekend, Argentina also happened to be playing Chile in a World Cup qualifier in BA, which we decided was a match not to be missed, despite the 2 hr queue for tickets! We were joined in BA by our partners-in-crime Anna and Sam from NZ, happily settled in the pub to watch England vs. France until we had to drag ourselves away at half time to head for the River Plate stadium. Torn loyalties!The poor Chileans were somewhat outplayed by thier Argentinian hosts, (who won 2-0) as, surprisingly were France by a a gutsy if not flambouyant England. What better cause for celebration and another good steak than seeing England reach the final of the RWC for the second time in a row.

The Recoletta Cemetry (a bit of it!)

After watching the Pumas put up a respectable fight against the dominant Springboks, the sport fest was over for another week, freeing us up to enjoy some of the more cultural aspects of the city, architecture, cemeteries (they're big here!) street markets, live music, tango... and shopping! Think of all those steaks consumed in this country every day - well the hides have to go somewhere. One thing you can safely say about the Argentinian meat industry is that there-s no waste! As well as all internal organs being fair game on the grill (a little extra caution required when ordering!) you can get a lot of good handbags (shoes, jackets...) out of a cow! Probably a good thing our rucksacks were already full to bursting, as the shops of the Palermo district are enough to bring out the big spender in anyone.

The Pink House - like the White House but pink!

One day from BA we took a trip over to Uruguay (yes, we'll do pretty much anything for a few extra passport stamps these days!). The city of Colonia, a UNESCO World Heritage Site is easily accessible in a day trip by catamaran. It was quite a chilled place to wander round after hectic BA, but unfortunately home to a particularly ravenous breed of mosquito, which we were quite happy to get away from!

Interlude

Feels like we've been slacking a bit on the blog entries recently... too many other exciting things to be doing! I've come to the conclusion that part of the delay in writing up our adventures comes from the fact that so many of the internet cafes we use to keep in touch are such singularly uninspirational places to pen amusing and witty travel anecdotes. We meet a surprising number of people on the road carrying laptops, which I've always thought a crazy idea, (too much like being back in the office!) but the one advantage they do give you, I've recently realised, is the freedom to be able to tap away in far more congenial surroundings than the local internet dive!

So in the interests of keeping the blog alive, here I am, back to good old pen and paper, sat in a deck chair looking at this wonderful view, in a little village in Welsh Patagonia (I'll get back to that!) ready to fill you in on some of our recent exploits in Argentina, starting with Buenos Aires... Thanks for waiting!

Northern Argentina

At the end of our Bolivian Salt Flats tour, rather than returning to Uyuni, we caught a bus to the Chilean town of San Pedro de Atacama. Unfortunately we don´t have much good to say about it. It was very expensive and on a different budget things might have been better but we found people rude and everything was out of our price range so we got the first bus to northern Argentina.


First stop was the city of Salta and we loved it. Everyone was incredibly friendly, even the traffic warden we stopped to ask for directions! We spent a happy few days there walking around and watching sport (mainly rugby). During the New Zealand vs France quarter final we started chatting to 2 Kiwis - Sam and Anna and agreed to drown their sorrows with our first Argentinian steak. All I can say is that it was awesome! The restaurant (or Parilla to give it its proper name) offered a complementary glass of Champagne - which was nice! However the waiter seemed to like us and we got through about 3 bottles worth between the 4 of us as well as the lovely bottle of red wine we bought to go with the steaks all for the grand price of 5GBP per person! The meat was lovely, perfectly cooked and incredibly flavoursome and tender - we´re going to like this place!! We were some of the first in at around 9pm (they eat late here) but the last to leave at about 1am.

In Salta we also watched the biggest match in the Argentinian football calender - the so called Super Derby between Boca Juniors and River Plate - the 2 main teams in Buenos Aires. Despite Salta being over 500 miles from Buenos Aires everyone was wearing strips of one of the teams - probably a little more Blue and Yellow of Boca than Red and White of River. The bars were all packed hours before kick off and we only just managed to squeeze in at the back of one, it seemed like the whole town was watching. River ended up winning 2:0 setting off mad scenes in the town. People marched and drove round and round the main square hooting horns and wacing flags. Despite all the exuberence, there was no agro between the fans who were all intermingled in the bars, even when a Boca player was sent off - a nice change from back home.


After Salta we headed south to Argentina´s second city of Cordoba. It is a beautiful city with lots of Jesuit architecture - the Jesuits settled here before being expelled from the country at a later date. Whilst it was interesting and friendly it didn´t have the charm that Salta did. In addition the steak we had wasn´t as well cooked and there was no free champagne! We did however find an amazing steak sandwich (lomito) shop that certainly improved things! It seems that our travels around Argentina will be defined by the quality of the food and wine - just as we had hoped!


One thing to mention is that the Argentines have a reputation for being arrogant and stuck up, in our experience from Salta and Cordoba, nothing could be further from the truth. Everyone we met was charming and keen to help. They also have a great service mentality and people in shops, cafes, hostels etc were all willing to go out of their way to help - a refreshing change from Bolivia!


Perhaps the only downside was that we were suddenly faced by a shoppers paradise and suddenly felt very scruffy compared to the locals - that hadn´t been a problem for quite some time! Our credit cards certainly started to feel a little jumpy in our wallets, self control will have to spread beyond red meat and red wine!


After Cordoba we headed to the capital but that is for another blog...

The 'F' Word

Before arriving in Argentina, we had briefly wondered to ourselves whether the issue of the disputed ownership of the Falkland Islands (or Islas Malvinas as they are called by the Argentines) would be a potential source of friction with our South American hosts.

We were assured by some travelling Argentinians that "no, not at all", and given the impression that this was all water under the bridge, as it were.

Not so. It soon became quite obvious to us on arriving in the country, that in fact, the Islas Malvinas were a slightly larger bone of contention than people would have had us believe. I did a double take for example on arriving by bus at the Argentinian border post with Chile, to discover that the larger-than-life map of Argentina on the wall did actually include the Falklands as part of Argentine territory. And sure enough, having examined several similar maps since being here, it is unusual to find one in spanish which does not list the Malvinas as belonging to Argentina. Not only this, but every town we have visited so far has had at least one street, bus company and tour agency named after the archipelago.

For the 25th anniversary of the invasion, Argentina has reasserted its claim for sovereignty, and it seemed that for the Socialist party, this claim formed a central part of their recent election campaign, hence a proliferation of street demonstrations, and requests for passers by to sign petitions for the return of the islands to their rightful owners. We declined to add our names...

In the library of the hostel where we stayed in BA, James cames across a book written in 1982 by one Rear Admiral (retired in service) Laurio H. Destefaniwar. We felt it was worth sharing an extract with you, as an insightful piece of war propaganda, particularly note-worthy for its impartial and un-emotive portrayal of the Falklands situation.

Despite the fact that the Falklands are still inhabited mainly by english speakers, it seems that the Argentine claim to the islands is underpinned by the fact that -

"...the Falkland Islanders cannot determine by themselves what they want to do, because they are actually a factory which has been colonised and exploited by a monopoly which does not permit any freedom to the islanders"

and he concludes the book with the following passage...

"The history of the Malvinas which has been so tragic and bitter for Argentina has now taken a new persepctive thanks to the courage shown by our men. On April 2, 1982, this country decided to put an end to the frustrations caused by almost a century and a half of submission.

We recovered the islands much to the surprise of the invader, who thought it would continue occupying them as it had done until then.

Our armed forces in a perfect operation occupied the Malvinas and the South Georgias, without causing the enemy a single casualty but suffering the loss of four men and three wounded ones.

The reaction has been excessive and cruel. The powerful adversary displayed all its modern war equipment, but received another surprise, our country which had been underesitmated already once, was able to retrurn blow by blow.

Today there is an impasse in diplomatic negotiations which will end by giving us what is ours, or maybe a bit less. I think that sooner or later, either during our generation or in the future, this inheritance will be finally ours."

So, the moral of the story has been - "don't mention the war"!

You know you´re in Argentina when.....

So, after nearly 6 months in the central Andes, we arrived in Argentina. Our first stop was a town called Salta in the north of the country. The effect of suddenly being somewhere which feels more like a European city than a Latin American one was nothing short of culture shock.

Out with the unsealed roads, the arduous bus journeys, the locals dressed in traditional Andean costume, hostel rooms for $3 each per night. In with upmarket cafes serving good cappuchinos, (for the price of a night's accomodation in Bolivia!) shops full of things you suddenly wanted to buy and streets full of suited & booted locals wearing Gucci sunglasses. It was all quite a shock to the system.
On our first wander around the streets of Salta, I could instantly feel my credit card twitching in my pocket, in reaction to 6 months in the same clothes, and suddenly being surrounded by shops selling nice looking things!

We decided that you know you're in Argentina when...


- there's a hot tap in the bathroom... and hot water comes out of it
- red wine costs only a few cents more than bottled water
- you can no longer buy a 3 course meal for 50p

- you don't stick out like a sore thumb as a tourist

- you find yourself inadvertently shouting for the 'Pumas' rugby team
- your protein and alcohol intake increase by 200%
- you feel distinctly under-dressed in your travelling gear
- the air-con on the bus works
- you can buy real italian pizza, french pastries and brown bread
- you order a drink and its served by a cheery waiter and comes with nibbles!


Our first few days in Argentina, have unashamedly been spent revelling in the delights of 'civilisation' and enjoying the sport fest that has been the last few weeks.

Mixed feelings at seeing Scotland go out to the Pumas in the rugby, but it didn't feel that they put in a great performance, and it was great to see the Argentinian reaction to the 'miracle' of the Pumas reaching the semi's. ("Yesterday a Dream, Today a Reality, Tomorrow a Legend", or in the words of Adidas, "Impossible is Nothing"). Good on them for getting so far as a non-pro team. Hopefully their performance will give a boost to the popularity of Rugby in Argentina (its still apparently seen very much as a posh boys sport). They certainly deserve it.


On Saturday, our allegiances were torn, when we managed to get hold of tickets to the Argentina vs. Chile World Cup Qualifier match at the River Plate stadium in BA, which meant leaving the pub after the first half of the France vs. England rugby match. To be honest we didn't have high hopes for that one... but as is so often the case, in rugby anything can happen! So the next priority will be finding somewhere to watch the final next weekend. The football was great - fanstastic atomsphere, and a win for Argentina via 2 perfect free kicks from Riquelme. Chile were truly outclassed.

Salar de Uyuni

We'd heard great things about Bolivia's Salt Flats, which stretch over an amazing 12,000km sq in the south west corner of the country and after a night in the nothing town of Uyuni itself, were more than a little excited to set off on a trip into the unknown, with our trusty companions, Shay and Em, and also a dutch couple, Esther and Ton, along with Carmelo our guide, Emilia the cook.

The Toyota Landcruiser is the vehicle of choice for tackling this harsh terrain, and a quick glance around the other vehicles stood on the main street before we left, told us that ours at least was looking in pretty good shape compared with those belonging to other agencies. Of all the places in the world to break down, the Salar de Uyuni is not recommended!

We had been promised unworldly landscapes, with eerie perspective effects (inifinite scope for whacky photos!)

and strange multicoloured lakes, complete with flocks of flamingoes, and what we got was just that. The Salar is unlike any landscape we had ever seen, with mile upon mile of panake-flat, glaringly white salt, (bring your sunnies or suffer the consequences) left over from a lake which, 10,000 years ago, disappeared into the ground in the wake of 2 separate earthquakes. Who knows where all that water went? The lake had been, after all bigger than Lake Titicaca.

The lakes were no less impressive, with dazzling colours flamigoes by the hundreds, (so many amazing photo opportunities - have a look for yourselves ona our Flickr page).

On the last day we were treated to a pre-breakfast dip in some natural pools, which more than compensated for the early start, before heading to the Chilean border where we picked up a shuttle which took us to Chile.

We had mixed feelings about leaving Bolivia. We have had a great time in this wonderful country, and between the jungle, the mountains and the Salar, it is home to some of the most stunning scenery imaginable. The people have welcomed us unconditionally, and for a nation

which has been dealt such a crappy hand historically, in terms of how it is treated by its neighbours, governmental corruption, and the exploitation of its natural resources by others, you have to respect the Bolivians for their sheer stoicism and willingness to get on with it in the face of adversity. We would certainly recommend Bolivia as a destination to visit, to anyone who is willing to get off the beaten track for a truly unforgetable travel experience.

But onwards and downwards... Argentina and Chile await! Bring on the red wine and steak!

A final few days in Bolivia.....

After the Inca Trail we headed back South to Bolivia at full speed. Our aim was the city of Sucre. It claims to be the most beautiful city in Bolivia as well as its rightful capital. It is certainly the former with a lovely selection of white buildings built round the main square. As for the latter, that is a mater for some debate. It is where the Bolivian decleration of independence was signed and has been made the Constitutional Capital but the judiaciary and government all sits in La Paz. Personally we think that Sucre is better off like this as it gets the distinction without any of the downsides that La Paz suffers. It is a lovely city and being the full capital could well destroy it but the locals seem pretty convinced that they deserve to be the one and only capital!

We were in language school for a week here. 4 hours in a group each morning and 2 hours of individual hours in the afternoon. We certainly got a lot out of it. Bolivia´s national dish is the Salteña - a kind of pasty named after a town in Argentina (go figure!). All our teachers kept talking about the best place in town to buy them but it was only open from 0930 to 1200 - when we were in school. Apparently tradition is to have them as a mid morning snack! Luckily we were able to get them over the weekend and they lived up to the hype.

After Sucre we headed with our friends from the jungle, Emily and Shay, to Potosi. Thanks to silver mining Potosi was once the richest city in the world. They say that in 460 years of mining, enough silver has been dug out to make a bridge all the way to Madrid! In the first 300 years of productoin under Spanish rule 8 million people died in the mines - not including those killed by poisoning outside the mine - that´s 73 every day!! Today the mining is still very manual with miners pushing trolleys full of ore out of the mine multiple times a day. Normally 2 of them push the trolley weighing about 1.5 tonnes the 3km or so from the workings 10 times a day!! The average lifespan of a miner after starting work is 10 years and there is no-one over 40 still working there. The most common death is silcosis or related cancers caused by terrible ventilation in the mine. Doing a tour is depressing and interesting in equal measures - it is amazing to think people are still working like this in the 21st century.

The town of Potosi itself is not beautiful but has a few interesting buildings. All in all we were glad to head off on our last Bolivian bus trip the morning after our day in the mines.

So the moment we had all been waiting for had arrived - our last Bolivian bus ride - and it lived up to expectations with all the classic hallmarks of a terrible bus trip! To name a few:

-It was 6 hours in an ancient bus on almost entirely unsurfaced roads

-My bus seat was broken so it went into full recline as soon as I leaned on it

-There was horrendous music being played loudly all the way

-Very smelly locals packed the aisles and kept leaning on my chair thus sending it into full recline or using Shay´s knee as an armrest

-Locals fired chairs back into recline meaning we were left with no leg room (hitting the back of the chair encouraged them to move though!!)

-We stopped in some god forsaken back village for some food

-There was a box of chickens on the back seat

As I said, it was a classic and there was much relief when we got off in Uyuni knowing that we never need get on another Bolivian bus! And getting to Uyuni meant only a day to the highlight of Bolivia - a tour of the salt flats...........

The Inca Trail

... the most famous trek in S. America, a once in a lifetime journey to the fabled Machu Picchu. Worthy, we thought of a short detour back north from Bolivia. Due to its overwhelming popularity, the trail is now strictly regulated, making it compulsory to use a registered tour operator, and limiting the no. of people starting the trail each day to (a mere!) 500! A slightly different experience from the treks James and I had done to press, where we had been lucky to meet 3 or 4 people.

Equipment on the trail is all carried by porters, to conserve the path from destruction by pack animals, and so for the 7 of us in our tour group, the entire team consisted of 8 porters, 1 guide and 1 cook, 16 people in total.

After the statuatory period of a few days' acclimitisation in Cusco, we met our guide, Ruben on the first day and were duly transported to the start of the trek. On the first day, we broke ourselves in gently, with a gentle stroll up the Urubamba Valley to the first lunch stop, where we had a taste of what was to come - 3 hot meals a day, served in the (comparitively!) palatial surroundings of our eating tent, by the team of porters, who had already caught up with, and overtaken us that morning. After eating our fill, we continued onwards up the valley towards our first camp, where we were treated on arrival to not only hot water to wash our weary feet in, but also tea, coffee and snacks, just in case we got hungry before the 3-course dinner which followed! This was definitely a step up from noodles straight out of the pan, huddled in the rain around a camping stove!

Day 2 was the one we'd been warned about - the blow of getting up at 6am was lessened by a very civilised wake up call, with hot drinks brought to our tent door, (I promptly informed James that this was the standard I expected to be upheld for all subsequent treks together - but strangely he wasn't buying it!).

Our tummies full of yummy pancakes, we set off for the 1200m climb up to the highest pass of the trail. Entertainment was provided in the form of a group of crazy Argentinians who we passed at various points along the way, and who were delighted to chat tell us about their country being infinitely more civilised than their Peruvian neighbours!

It was quite soul destroying experience at this point, when pausing for breath halfway up the inca-steps-from-hell, under the weight of a mere day sack, (containing waterproofs and not much else), to be passed by our team of porters who, since breakfast time had washed up our dishes, dismantled our tents, packed them onto their backs along with all the other camping paraphenalia, (around 20 kilos of weight each) and had trotted merrily up the hill behind us, wearing their sandals made of recycled car tyres. Insult was then added to injury when, on reaching the top of the pass, they took off literally at a run down the other side. These guys are amazing.
After surviving day 2, the 3rd and 4th days were an opportunity to relax a bit and marvel at the jaw-dropping scenery, including some of the most spectacular Inca Ruins, each one more impressive than the next.
The biggest disappointment of the trek was that after great weather for the first 3 days, the Sun Gate when we reached it at around 7am (the first view of Machu Picchu) was swathed in cloud, and so we were denied that impactful firts glimpse of the site from above. Still, we pressed on, and up Wayna Picchu, the hill behind the site, by which time the cloud had considerately lifted, and we were wowed for the first time by the sheer scale of the place. For all the hype, Machu Picchu does not disappoint.

Welcome to the Jungle! part 2

So following on from our adventures in the Beni Reserve we headed for a bit more voluntary work in the Madidi National Park near the town of Rurrenabeque (or Rurre for short!). First we had to get there and unfortunately it was on a minibus. Even more unfortunately a fellow passenger needed to have a houseful of furniture strapped to the top. In addition the driver was a bit simple and seemed unable to pack everything onto the roof (probably not helped by all the advice being shouted up from below) but eventually everything was reasonably securely tied down with our rucksacks rammed safely in the middle and we set off. The drive should have been 6 hours but took nearly 8, all of which on dirt roads in a minibus without headrests. Add to this the drunkard behind us and the guy infront who insisited on competeing with the bus radio with his own ghetto-blaster (neither playing good music) made for the worst bus trip to date. When we arrived at Rurre several passangers argued that they had bought tickets to the next town but the driver wasn't having any of it and decided to argue the point rather than unload the truck - it was gone midnight by now. Rurre is an interesting place and rather than taxis has little 125cc motorbikes that we had to jump on. Doing this with two rucksacks was not very comfortable or stable! We were certainly glad when the first hotel had space.

The voluntary work was at an eco-lodge called San Miguel del Bala. It is run by a small community of the same name. Prior to the creation of the Madidi National Park the village men earned money by hunting, fishing and deforestation in the park. These suddenly became outlawed and their income dissapeared. With the help of various charities, the community was encouraged to build the eco-lodge and earn a living from tourism. The lodge has 7 seperate cabins for guests, a dining area with adjoining kitchen and a relaxing area. The local men have been trained to work as guides and some of the women run the kitchen. The whole process is run on a rotation basis so everyone has a chance to work. It is a great iniative and really interesting to be briefly involved in.

Our work was based around two things: physical activities such as painting, varnishing and cleaning and teaching English to the community´s children and guides. The physical stuff was fine and we enjoyed - teaching English was a little more challenging. The guides all wanted "to learn English quickly" but didn´t actually want to put in the effort required. Eventually we managed to get a few of them to have lessons but don´t really feel we made much headway!

Teaching the children English was even more trying. We held lessons in the evening and ended with classes of up to 15 children with ages from 6 to 15 and the range of abilities were similarly split. The kids had incredibly short attention spans and spent most of the lessons jumping up and running out the class. The good kids got understandably bored but it was damn hard to organise. Luckily 2 more volunteers arrived after a few days and by splitting the class into 3 and using James as a bouncer to keep people in their seats we felt like we started to make some progress. Unfortunately a week was not long enough to make a real breakthrough but there is a volunteer about to go there for 6 months so there is hope.

We stayed in the community with the family of Felcy and Magdelena and their 3 kids. Their small house had two rooms - one with 2 single beds where all 5 of them slept and one for us! The kitchen and eating area was in an open shack outside. They were a lovely family and Magdelena provided fantastic food - especially considering she was cooking on a campfire for 7 people. The food was great and we certainly put on a few pounds during our stay.

The experience of teaching was trying but just for the pleasure of staying with a local indigenous family it was well worth it. Something to remember for sure.

ps - Mum, no comments on my suitability to teach English please!! J ;)

Welcome to the Jungle!

So we got up bleary eyed to head to the world's highest airport (4,050m) to catch a plane to the Jungle. That's right, we didn't want to catch the 19 hour bus ride, mostly on unsealed roads! We were flying to the city of Trinidad in a small 19 seater propellor plane. The route just skims of the bulk of the Corillera Blanca (Royal Range) mountains before descending into the humid jungle. Trinidad was infact only a stop over and just as well as it seemed pretty grim place - open sewers being the low point. Our next flight was to San Borja and this time we were the only two passengers in a 12 seater Cessna. We pulled our saftey cards out of the back of the pilot's seat! Great! The plane skimmed over the jungle, never getting over 8,000ft and giving us great views over the savannah and jungle.

We arrived in San Borja on the grass run away to be met by Everet and Julian - our hosts for the next few days. They are Park Rangers with the Beni Biological Reserve and we were going to help them (or get in the way!) for the next few days. This is not a normal tourist stop and they seemed a little unsure what to do with us. Eventually we spent the night in the offices in the town before setting off for the jungle. The trip in itself was eventful, we spent nearly 2 hours in the Nissan pick-up truck driving along the main intercity road - a dirt track - before turning off and spending 2 hours bumping cross country through the savannah to a small community. They lived in the park and the rangers were encouraging them to work more sustainably. It was interesting to see but very embarrassing when we were pulled to the front of the school class to make a donation to the commuity!

Next stop was the campsite. This was on the edge of the jungle and next to a river. The camp consisted of an adobe building with two bedrooms, a store room and radio room. The kitchen cum dining room was in a shack outside with a small campfire. The rest of the day was spent relaxing and eating - perfect. Considering the campfire the food was astonishingly good.

Day 2 was to be spent doing some animal monitoring. We headed of down the river on a dug out canoe with an outboard strapped to the back. The river was quite low and driftwood often needed to be negotiated as we headed downstream. Julian sat at the bow pointing things out, we sat in the middle noting his observations and GPS position whilst Everet steered. We saw all kinds of amazing animals: hoatzin (a foolish bird a bit like a pheasant), caymans, river dolphins, parrots, kingfishers, turtles, capibara (the largest rodent) and loads of monkeys - to mention just a few. Spent 5 hours heading down stream before we stopped for lunch - again an amazing meal cooked over a campfire. We then headed back upstream arriving at the camp after dark and catching a fish by accident. First it hit James on the back of the head before trying again and landing in the canoe. It was a great day out and a real privilege to spend so long on the river in the company of two such experts.

Day 3 was a quieter day. We went for a walk in the jungle with Everet. He seemed to be able to spot all kinds of animal footprints and we bemusedly logged them, trusting his word. Unfortunately we didn't see anything other than some parrots overhead. The afternoon was spent relaxing before a small fishing trip. Everet had already caught a stunner the night before (some sort of freshwater catfish called a Pintado in spanish) but we wanted a go too! We set of upstream to a good spot and threw our lines - fishing wire tied to a wooden block. Petra is the one to get lucky, catching a beauty and a piece of wood as well!

Day 4 is a drive back to civilization after a fantastic few days. We really enjoyed it and it was great just to be off the tourist trail - we were the second group to go there this year!

Choro Trek, Bolivia

Thanks for bearing with us folks - at long last with back with a decent internet connection, so here goes with the latest installment of our adventures in Bolivia...

A couple of things that we'd heard about the Choro trek made it sound appealing - first, with a high point of 4860m, it would be our chance to go higher than any mountain in Europe, without the aid of ice-axes, crampons or other associated climbing paraphenalia. Second, after reaching this high point, supposedly it was more or less downhill all the way. Too easy!

The moment we stepped off the bus from La Paz, the air was noticably thinner, and it was a breathtaking 200m climb from the pass where we started, to the high point of the trek, from where we could see the path sloping away for miles below us.

When they said there'd be a lot of downhill they weren't joking, infact that day we descended a grand total of 2700m (that's 2.5 times the height of Snowdon in old money). In the space of a few hours, the scenery changed from barron rocky hillsides to humid jungle and by the time we reached the first night's camp our knees were killing! (who said those walking pole things were only for pensioners?! -us before we started, but we were wishing ardently that we'd hired some by the end of the day!)

The topographical summary in our guidebook of the walk on day 2 said '1000m descent'. Sounded like a doddle compared with the previous day! The path we were following skirted the flanks of jungle-covered mountains, maintaining essentially the same height, but every now and then there would be a river to cross, causing the path to plunge precipitously down and back up again. It played this same trick on us several times until, by the end of the day we had racked up about 1200m ascent and descent. One climb in particular which our trusty guidebook had failed to warn us of, was called the 'Devils Stairs' (with a name like that you've got to worry) -huge Inca-built stone steps which seemed to go on forever. We were exhausted again - and frankly wondering where the description of this trek as being 'mostly downhill' had come from!

Luckily, the highlight of the trek was waiting for us at the end of the 2nd day - Casa Sandillani, a beautifully manicured Japanese garden, surrounding the home of an ancient Japanese man (just the kind of thing you expect to find miles up on a Bolivian hillside hours from civilisation, not) where we could camp for the night on a grassy terrace with stunning mountain views all around.

The Japanese man (we never did find out his name) was a sort of tourist attraction in himself, arund 70 years old, bent double, and speaking in a stream of consciousness in rusty spanish with a Japanese accent (imagine?!) he had lived in this little house on the hill for the last 45 yrs. Before we left, we were asked to mark on his hand-drawn map where we came from, to add to the scribblings of the hundreds of backpackers who had visited his mountain hideaway over the years. It would have been truly fascinating to have known more about how he came to be there and why he had chosen this kind of life, but I'm not sure my spanish would have stood up to the test, so we headed off, still slightly puzzled, down to the village at the end of our trek to catch a bus back to 'civilisation'.

THANKS!

...to everyone who has chased us down to ask whether we were affected by the earthquake in Peru. Its really nice to know that you're thinking about us. It did sound terrible for the people affected, but thankfully we weren't there.
Fortunately we were well out of it, deep in the Bolivian jungle, looking for caymens. Which also explains somewhat why the distinct lack of blog entries recently. The Bolivian jungle is one place the www has not yet found!
More exciting updates on our adventures to follow, when we can find a half decent connection!!
Thanks again everyone and keep your news coming!

Lake of the Puma Rock. Or in other words...

...Lake Titicaca.

The highest navigable lake in the world, at around 3800m above sea level - Lake Titicaca is one of those sights on the ´must do´list in South America. The lake sits between Peru and Bolivia, its islands and shoreline being shared between the 2 countries.

Our first stop on the lake was to visit the famous floating islands - made by the local Aymara people from the reeds which grow in the lake. We sailed from a town in Peru called Puno, on a local sightseeing boat (there's no getting away from it, these islands are now unaviodably toursirty). It took about 30 mins to reach the island, on which the small communities receive tourists, and explain the comstruction of the islands on which they live. As you step off the boat, the island which has a top layer of dry reeds, supported by the spongy peat below, sinks slightly beneath your feet, giving the impression of walking on a water bed. Not the place to live if you're sea-sickness prone! Quite bizarre - there's nothing like it anywhere else in the world.

Our second view of Lake Titicaca came from the Bolivian side. Once crossing the border, we headed for a town called Copacabana, famous for its beautiful cathedral and car blessing ceremonies...?! don't ask. (not quite what Barry Manilow had in mind when he sang the classic...) From Copacabana, we headed out on a trek up the lake shore, and on arriving at the end of the mainland, we heaved our stuff into a tiny rowing boat, and were ferried in style across the short stretch of water to 'Isla del Sol' by a diminutive Bolivian guy, who nonetheless rowed like a pro, and would probably have matched Steve Redgrave in pulling power pound for pound, despite being at least half his size!

We camped that night with a beautiful view out over one of the many bays, and of the snow-capped Cordillera Real in the background, then spent the next day exploring the island. We walked its length from south to north, (a few miles), arriving in the afternoon at some pre-Inca ruins. Our second campsite was a secluded cove with complete with white sand right next to the lake. You could have been forgiven for thinking you were somewhere in the Med! Both evenings we ate our noodles with front row seats for 2 of the most spectacular sunsets I've seen. The weather was pretty kind to us, although after baking hot days, we were glad of the thermals when we woke up with ice on the tent in the morning. All in all a beautiful trip. The next morning we took the slightly less elegant transport of the local ferry back to the mainland to continue on our way south...

Isn´t it funny how Jimmy likes honey?: Travels in the Central Andes

We managed to time our stay in Lima to allow us to catch the once weekly train back into the mountains - a frankly miraculous bit of planning on Petra´s part! The train runs approx 350km from the coast at Lima up and over a pass at more than 4,829m before heading down to Huancayo at 3,244m. All this is completed at a very sedate pace (the journey takes over 12 hours!) but it is the second highest railway in the world! It is an amazing piece of engineering as the train crossed 54 bridges and goes through 68 tunnels. The route is beautiful and added to our picnic made it a special day. The most amusing part is that Peru doesn´t have level crossings, on the very occasoinal route there was a man with a red flag to stop traffic but in most places required the drive to hoot his horn for a good few minutes before reaching the road. I felt sorry for the locals, espcially as the return leg is a night train!

The town of Huancayo is slightly off the tourist route as most people head south down the coast from Lima. Around the town are a series of villages that each have there own special craft. Initially we went to Hualhuas which is famous for weavings, and rightly so. We were shown round a establishment that made some lovely alpaca blankets etc. and all on hand looms. If only there was space in the rucksacks! We then set out on the 1 hour walk to San Jeronimo, which is famous for silver. On the way we met a strange old man with few teeth who was intrigued to discover that post is delivered to people´s houses in the UK. We then met two young girls who wanted to practise there English. They rather sadly said that they were surprised that in England we speak the language of the Americans! Just as we were reaching San Jeronimo, I spotted a honey shop and decided to pop in. We were then invited out back to look at a few hives (only 3 of the 300 they owned) in the courtyard. The bees were kept by a retired school teacher and he was fascinated that my grandfather kept bees and inisisted on dismantling one hive to give us a taste straight from the hive. He then proceeded to talk about Peru and its history all to the accompanyment of his guitar. We spent a happy hour chatting to him before we bought some honey and set off to the silversmiths.

The silversmith was a lady of about 65 crouching over a table and making some stunning pieces of filagree style jewellery. Personally I am not sure how she did it as other than when at work seemed a little crazy and at least twice nearly set light to Petra with a mini, gas powered flame thrower. Anyway, Petra proved that silver jewellery is much easier to fit in a rucksack than an alpaca blanket is!

After Huancayo we hopped on a bus to Ayacucho. It was perhaps our worst bus trip yet with over 200km of bumpy dirt road. However, it was worth it: Ayacucho is a beautiful city with literally bucket loads of churches. It is claimed that there are 33 churches in the city (1 for each year of Christ´s life apparently) but in fact there are quite a few more. It was a cool place to chill out for a day and not do a whole lot.

Next stop Nazca but that is another story.............................