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Flights: 39
Continents: 3
Countries: 13
Beds: 114
Photos: 19,543
Marriages: 1
McDonalds: 0

It’s our final night in BA and luckily there’s enough time for one final steak!

It was worth posting this blog post just to write that title!

After a few days in Buenos Aires, we took the one hour ferry ride to Uruguay and spent a day wandering about the beautiful little town of Colonia – the oldest city in the country and a world heritage site. The historical area of the city was a wonderful place to spend the day, with its 17th century cobblestone streets shaded by huge sycamore trees, some great little places for lunch and coffee and a few tourist spots. It was also a place where the locals seemed to love cruising around in old cars, some classics, but mainly just battered old Fiats.

Once we’d done our tourist duty and spent a few (unusually large) Uruguayan Peso notes in the city, we caught a taxi out to a beautiful little posada in the countryside called La Casa de los Limoneros. Where we spent a couple of nights just doing not very much at all.

Refreshed and ready to hit the markets, we headed back to Buenos Aires – with the credit card ready to be hammered – for a weekend of shopping, sorting out our things before our return to chilly London… Oh and eating steak and drinking wine – mustn’t forget those important tasks.

We arrived from Rio at Foz do Iguaçu airport and immediately jumped into a taxi and headed for our last big location of our year off, the Iguazu Falls.

We walked the trail along the Brazilian side of the Iguazu River which takes you along progressively bigger and bigger falls, giving you a great overview of the location, until we finally got to see the spectacular Devil’s Throat – the biggest section of the falls at 82m high. Then we crossed the border into Argentina and the town of Puerto Iguazú. We found our hostel – the final cheap dump of our year – dropped our bags and spent as much of the evening out of the room as we could.

The next day we headed over to the Argentine side of the falls, which has much more intricate trails and platforms and allows you to really see many of the falls up close. The furthest point on the trails on the Argentine side is atop a platform at the very top of the Devil’s Throat. Standing at the edge of the platform and allowing the falls to completely fill your field of view is a simply awesome experience.

After ticking another wonderful thing off our world to-do list, we took our last overnight bus ride (only 19hrs!) to Buenos Aires.

To have a look at some BIG images from our time at the falls click here.

We decided to fly from Bogotá to Rio and fortunately had a night stop over in Buenos Aires where we left most of our baggage and travelled on with only one hiking pack and a small day pack.

We’d been a bit blasé about booking accommodation in Rio, we’d emailed a few places but even though some of them got back to us without availability we didn’t try and phone any of the others. We just assumed it would be like everywhere else and easy to find something on the ground. We were wrong. Upon arrival at our 2nd or 3rd hostel that didn’t even have a dorm bed available we were told that it was a public holiday in Rio on the Tuesday (Childrens’ Day) and Thursday (Teachers’ Day) of that week and that there was also a Bon Jovi concert taking place. Basically she told us we’d be lucky to find anything. In desperation we wandered into a holiday apartment block. They didn’t have anything either, but the guy behind the desk got on the phone and managed to communicate to us that he had found something elsewhere. We wandered a little dubiously the two blocks to the apartment he’d found and were met by Rosemary, who, it turns out manages the property and also lives in the same building. The apartment was perfect, and at the same price as a double room in a hostel, a real bargain. We took it for six nights.

The following morning we had a much needed sleep in and headed out for coffee at a great little place in the fort overlooking Copacabana Beach. Fantastic coffee and an incredible view! We liked Rio… a lot. We liked it even more after wandering and eating our way around Ipanema that afternoon. We had high hopes for the night life and headed out in a taxi that evening for Leblon and a Lonely Planet recommended cocktail bar. Unfortunately the bar seemed to have been replaced by a restaurant (interestingly enough the same restaurant that we’d tried to find at lunch and found closed) so we backtracked to our apartment for the guidebook and ended up about an hour later sitting in a delicatessen, rather disappointed in our search for a comfy little bar. We ordered cocktails and decided to make the best of it. About 10 mins later a fantastic little jazz band started up and we realised that while a little different to our expectations… the Ipanema night life was still pretty good.

The next day was filled with strolling the beaches and sampling some more of the excellent restaurants. After dinner we headed out to the intriguing Rio Scenarium in Lapa. We queued for 1hr 45mins thinking that it’d better be pretty good! It didn’t let us down. The club is located over three massive floors filled with antique furniture, props, cars, chandeliers, pictures and sculptures. We spent most of the time just looking at the amazing bits, bobs and furniture around the place.

We spent the next few days doing the touristy things… a walking tour of the city, going up the Pão de Açúcar in the evening and Corcovado to see Cristo Redentor first thing in the morning. We managed a couple of hours on the beautiful Ipanema beach but gave up because it was a little windy. We even managed to catch a pro surf competition at Arpoador. On our last day we met up with Paulo, a friend of a friend we thought we were only meeting for coffee. Paulo decided to show us around and took us for a drive into one of the largest southern favelas, the beautiful old hillside area of Santa Teresa and for a look at the (unfortunately closed for renovation) Estádio do Maracanã. Then he took us to a new local watering hole for a couple of beers. We had such a fantastic afternoon and really saw a different side of the city.

The next morning we were up early for our taxi to the airport and the final big sight of the year…. Iguazú Falls.

Things got a little more rustic there, with dirt roads and many buildings in need of work although there was a solitary ATM, ominously located right next to the tiny police station. We managed to find a room at a reasonably nice place in the higher part of town. No AC but there was a small pool which was refreshing, and became even more essential once we realised that the beach front wasn’t really all that great for swimming.

We found a tiny coffee shop which claimed to be ‘the best little coffee shop in the southern hemisphere’. We couldn’t resist such a claim and had to try it. It certainly wasn’t the best in the southern hemisphere (we’ve had better coffee in Australia) but it was definitely the best we’ve had outside Australia on our trip so far. Despite coffee being Colombia’s biggest (legal) export there’s a saddeningly huge amount of Nescafé around – and having ‘made in Colombia’ on the label didn’t make it any less disappointing each time we were given some with our breakfast.

Taganga had a very relaxed atmosphere and a nice little beach called Playa Grande in a bay just a 20 minute walk around the cliffside to the north. We also found some great seafood in one of the restaurants on the water front. It was a nice place to hang out for a couple of days before we returned to Santa Marta to stay for a while, sometimes catching the local bus south to El Rodadero for its better beach (although always returning for dinner at a restaurant which served steak that was almost as good as the steak we’d had in BA).

After a couple more days, it was time to leave the coast and travel to Colombia’s capital, Bogotá. We spent 3 days exploring the city – hampered by almost continuous rain – but managed to get quite a few touristy things ticked off the list. The changing of the guard at the Presidential Palace – including a marching band that for some reason played Paint it Black by the Rolling Stones – was an odd little experience to remember. Sadly the rain meant that we had to spend a lot of our time indoors having to sample the many great cake shops and cafés around La Candelaria, including one that served a very popular snack in Bogotá, cheese and bread with hot chocolate – the cheese was there to dip into the hot chocolate before you eat it (pretty awful). Bogotá was a damp but interesting city – certainly not the most beautiful we’ve been to, but has plenty of character if you’re prepared to look for it. We managed to find quite a few great little bars, restaurants and cafés, and the place certainly grew on us over the time we spent there, although it did have to try hard to stand out amidst our growing excitement for our next stop… Rio.

To get to Rio we had to fly through Buenos Aires for an overnight stay. We were lucky enough to have exit row seats and the flight was going perfectly. Then it took a turn for the worse when the head steward managed to drop a full pot of boiling hot coffee on the floor in front of me, scalding my ankles, soaking my shoes, socks and jeans and spraying Alexandra’s coat and the whole emergency exit area with some of Colombia’s finest instant.

After having to call them back with the call button 10 minutes later – because they immediately went to sit down as the seatbelt sign was on, and didn’t come back once it switched off – they apologised (somewhat sarcastically) and offered nothing to help the situation. I was offered another seat in economy once I pointed out that the floor beneath my feet was soaked, but I declined and requested a better, and not a worse seat than my current exit row one. There were none on the plane apparently – a claim which I found to be untrue when I took the short walk over to business class to find it half empty. Despite our suggestions that they should do something – anything in fact – to make our flight a little more comfortable, they responded by saying that it might happen on Qantas or BA, but on their airline it wasn’t their policy. My point that if the pot had fell to the left rather than the right, then there was the potential for a baby or young child to be burnt by the coffee fell on deaf ears. They did provide a little entertainment a short while after the incident though when they wheeled their trolley past us again and politely asked the question I knew they would… ‘Coffee sir?!’

‘No thanks, I’ve already had some’ I replied with a laugh.

Aerolineas Argentinas, the worst airline ever.

Looking at the positives though, at least there was enough time for my socks to completely dry and my shoes now had a lovely, truly Colombian aroma, which would serve to remind me of our trip for years to come (or until I throw them away, which will probably be very soon).

After a short overnight stop in BA where we took the chance to catch up with Hayley, the next morning we flew (unfortunately with Aerolineas Argentinas) to Rio de Janeiro!

We arrived in Cartagena at lunchtime, the first time in a long time that we’d arrived anywhere at a decent hour of the day. I was reminded of the last time we stepped out of the plane into the thick wall of tropical heat and humidity – back in April at Kuala Terrenganu in Malaysia. The fleece went firmly into the bottom of my back pack and we took a taxi to our hostel.

We spent a few days getting to know the city. The old town section is a beautiful area full of historic public squares, cobbled streets and brightly-coloured colonial buildings with ornate overhanging balconies. It has a relaxed feel with lots of great bars and restaurants, galleries and museums. Our path was usually dictated by our hunt for the next cocktail to cool us down (because for some reason, water just wasn’t cutting it). Our location of choice for a few evening sunsets was Café del Mar which is situated on the old city walls, with an uninterrupted view west out into the Caribbean Sea… just perfect.

After a few days in Cartagena checking out most of the city, the lure of nearby beaches was too much and we took a boat for the 45min trip to Playa Blanca where we stayed for a couple of nights. It’s a beautiful long stretch of white beach in a bay on the island of Barú. Once we’d arrived we walked the length of the beach and quickly noticed that there were less tourists at the northern end, and consequently much less hassle there from hawkers selling knick knacks and massages. So that’s where we decided to stay. On this beach acommodation was down to basics, with three options: hammocks, tents and small wooden dorms with thatched roofs. On this occasion we decided to treat ourselves and go midrange! We ended up staying in a tiny tent that barely fit both of us with our day packs. Not so luxurious inside, but being 20 metres from beautifully clear Caribbean water meant that it wasn’t so bad on the outside.

Our new neighbour for the next two nights was an Argentine called Nico who was spending a full month living in a tent on the beach. It was he who helped persuade us to stay where we did. Not simply because he’d already been there for about 3 straight weeks – not a bad advertisement in itself – but he’d also rated the food pretty highly. We had a great couple of days and evenings lazing around, reading and cooling off in the sea. The only problem were the insects! They came out in force during the still evenings and didn’t adhere to the rule that if someone is wearing repellent containing 80% DEET then you’re supposed to move along and bite someone else.

We seemed to have decided to stay at the only place on the beach that had a generator, and therefore light and music. It attracted people from other parts of the beach and we spent the evening chatting to locals and a few other tourists over a few beers. It was a great atmosphere, although the almost rhythmic slapping of hands onto arms, legs and necks was a constant reminder that we weren’t the only living things on the beach.

After an uncomfortable first night sleeping in the tent, Alexandra woke (very early, annoyed and scratching her legs furiously) to find the results of the insect party that had happened the night before. She stopped counting the bites at 200, and we estimated that there were over 500 in total.

I tried to count the bites on me… and stopped at 0. I must’ve dodged them or something.

During the 2nd evening Alexandra spent most of it tightly wrapped in a sarong to protect her from the insects, so it wasn’t quite as bad as the 1st. We sat on the beach, put on some Beatles from Alexandra’s iPod and enjoyed some more beer and a bit of coco loco – piña colada served in a fresh coconut – while watching the entertainment for the evening, some huge spectacular tropical storms on the horizon. Then I had a surprisingly comfortable night sleeping in one of the hammocks so that Alexandra had a little more room in our (barely fits 1 but is called a) 2 person tent.

We returned to Cartagena the following afternoon after another morning of doing not very much at all and arrived at the same hostal we were at a few days before. Having been travelling for a while we’re now able to plan ahead and cleverly reserved a room before we left. Unfortunately the receptionist responded to us informing her that we had a reservation by telling us that they hadn’t had any cancellations so there was no room for us. Our names and the date were in a notebook but that meant nothing. As we hadn’t pre-paid, the reservation didn’t exist. We tried to explain that we hadn’t been asked to pay anything when we made the reservation, but our frustrated words got no reaction other than a roll of the eyes. Hot, sweaty and in need of a shower we grabbed our bags and found another place to stay. We decided that evening that rather than moving on the next day, we’d stay for another to allow Alexandra’s bites to heal in the heaven that was a room with air conditioning.

After another relaxed day enjoying the city (and it’s food, coffee and of course cocktails) we took a bus northeast along the coast the following morning to the city of Santa Marta, where we intended to continue the beach hunt.

Here are some pictures from Cartagena and Playa Blanca.

After a short (1.5 hour) bus ride and an overly convoluted border crossing – involving getting a Peruvian exit stamp miles before the border, crossing the border, getting an entry stamp after travelling 20 minutes past the border into Ecuador, then having to leave our bus and catch a cab back to the border to get a different bus (10 hours this time) – we were on our way to Quito.

After the uncomfortable overnight journey, we were woken by the shouting conductor at 6am – an hour early. In a half-asleep-half-awake daze we managed to persuade the driver that we wouldn’t be able to get our bags out of the luggage compartment under the bus if he persisted with his intention to drive off as soon as possible. Once we managed to drag them onto the street we used our now well-honed ability to act as if all taxi drivers are invisible to buy ourselves a couple of minutes of time to work out which street we were on – and therefore by how much the aforementioned taxi drivers were about to try and con us.

After some successful haggling and a short drive we arrived at our hostel. As we were an hour early, ringing the bell woke the guy on reception and after checking in we immediately headed out for an early breakfast as our room wasn’t ready. For the rest of the day and through the folowing night I was pretty ill with a 24 hour bug from hell. My pain was hammered home by the unbelievable racket coming from all around us that lasted until about 4am. We seemed to have booked into the noisiest hostel in the whole of Quito.

After a night of very little sleep, the hostel cleaner making me a concoction of oregano, salt and hot water with a squeeze of lime didn’t prove to be enough to persuade us to stay and by 10am Alexandra had managed to find a nice quiet alternative. We headed over to our new hostel and had an early siesta. That afternoon we ventured out into La Mariscal with a mission – to find and book a tour to the Galápagos Islands. We surprised ourselves by finding a decent-sounding 8 day tour for a pretty good price at the very first agency we walked into. After confirming it was good by shopping around at a few other agencies, we went ahead and booked it. The last big splurge of our trip was paid for!

After spending the following day walking around the beautiful old town area of Quito we got an early night, ready for our early flight to the Galápagos the next morning.

We arrived by 10am the next day and a were having lunch a couple of hours later on the Galápagos Voyager – the boat that was to be our home for the next 8 days. It was so much better than we expected. A decent sized cabin with comfortable beds and our own bathroom, a nice group of people travelling with us, great food and a very friendly crew.

I’ll let the pictures do most of the talking… there are plenty of them! But to summarise, we spent the next week sailing from island to island – usually at night, and sometimes through some pretty rough seas – doing our best David Attenborough impressions. The volcanic landscapes were beautiful, the land-based wildlife was amazing (especially the giant tortoises, red and blue footed boobies and new-born sea lions) and the sea-based wildlife even more so. Snorkelling with sea lions that were so keen to play with me and bite at my flippers; following sea turtles along a 100 year old underwater lava flow; watching penguins swim past at stunning speed through a separating school of thousands of fish; we had even more memorable experiences in the water than out of it. We were amazed by how fearless the wildlife was, which meant we could get very close to the animals. It’s probably the best cageless zoo in the world!

Here’s a video I shot of one of the sea lions at La Loberia beach having fun with my flippers:

After 8 days of fun on the islands, we returned to Quito and had a couple of days of doing not very much, apart from visiting the incorrect and correct equatorial lines just north of Quito, before we were very happy – after having read recent news reports – to fly over the border into Colombia, for some more beach time!

Here is a huge bunch of pictures from our time in Quito and the Galápagos Islands:

We arrived in Máncora after yet another 20hr bus journey and were not disappointed by the sunshine that greeted us. We found a really nice small hotel right on the beach, grabbed the suncream and headed for the sand. Unfortunately it was pretty windy on the beach so we didn’t spend much time in the surf, still, we got in a little bit of time in the sun in between hanging out in cafés and playing backgammon. On our last day it rained, so again we felt ready to move when the time came to board the bus to Ecuador and our adventures in the Galapagos Islands.

We arrived in Cusco an hour early at 4am on Saturday. The city was very much asleep (other than one incredibly drunken gringo party-goer with fluorescent pen all over his face who we saw stumbling in a gutter) so we were relieved that we’d decided to book a room in advance. Our hostel was closed when we arrived, but fortunately someone opened the door and agreed to let us sit in the café. Once it got light we hit the streets. We were amazed by Cusco, it is a really beautiful city. It’s the longest inhabited city in South America and is full of narrow cobbled streets and beautiful old buildings. We spent the morning wandering and searching for a company to book to take us on the Salkantay trek to Machu Picchu. Having read quite a lot about conditions for the porters and quality of camping equipment we were stunned by how cheaply some companies were offering the trek. We contemplated doing it on our own, but decided against the hassle of carrying all our own food and equipment and eventually booked with a reputable eco tourism company.

Having spent most of the weekend trying to sort out the trek and generally just taking the city in, on Monday we decided to take in some of the sights. We took a taxi 8km out of town to the Inca ruins at Tambomachay and spent the morning walking back into town via Pukapukara, Q’enqo and the impressive Sacsaywamán. I’m ashamed to say that by the end of the morning we were a little ‘over’ the ruins. There were so many package tourists around and guides offering their services that we just couldn’t really deal with any more! We were planning on visiting some of the ruins near Machu Picchu after our trek, but having been to these sites near Cusco we changed our mind! We also figured that after Machu Picchu most other sites would pale in comparison.

In Cusco if you want to visit any of the major sites you have to buy a tourist ticket. On the surface it seems like a good idea, but in reality it’s a total rip off. We needed it for our Inca sites outside Cusco, so decided to check out the galleries that it also gained us entry to. The ones we went to were universally crap. We did visit some amazing buildings, but obviously these weren’t covered by the ticket, so we had to buy separate entry. To get into some of the impressive churches that Cusco has to offer you have to buy a different type of ticket. Am I wrong to think that you shouldn’t have to pay to get into a church??? Just so you’re on the same page, these tickets aren’t cheap either, we paid over £100 for them! Despite feeling a little ripped off, we really enjoyed exploring the amazing old buildings in Cusco.

On Wednesday 25th we were up early to start our trek! We had a big breakfast at our hostel and were picked up by minibus at around 8am. We spent the next few hours in the car getting to know our fellow trekkers, Barbara, a teacher from Germany; Lim, a businessman from Singapore; and Naomi and Steve, a couple of crazy Canadians now living in Costa Rica who were travelling with their 7 year old daughter Fumiko. Once we were out of the bus we stopped for lunch and trekked up hill for a few hours to our first camp site. Night 1 was freezing. We were saved by some hot and tasty camp food. Early nights all around.

We were told that day 2 would be the hardest. We had a couple of hours uphill to reach the Salkantay pass in the morning and then it was downhill for 7 hours. When we started out in the morning we were wandering through rocky passes and moraines, by the end of the day we had reached the outskirts of the Amazon Basin and were stunned by the change in scenery.

Day 3 we continued on our tropical trail until we reached our final camping ground La Playa. Barbara, Naomi and Fumiko braved the freezing stream to bathe while the rest of us just accepted that we’d smell for another day. That evening we had to decide on plans for the following day. We basically all wanted to trek up to a site opposite Machu Picchu called Llactapata to see a view of our famous destination. Lim decided against it because it’d be far too tough on his recently operated on knees and Naomi had to stay behind to look after Fumiko as the horse she had been riding had to leave. So these guys were going to take a bus as close to Aguas Calientes (the town at the foot of Machu Picchu) as possible and walk the three hours along the train tracks to the town.

Day 4 we woke up to rain. Steve, Anthony and I decided not to let it put us off, so after a delayed start we headed on up Llactapata. It was a pretty tough climb, made slightly tougher by the fact that Steve wanted to beat our guide’s fastest time up the mountain. Smithy (our guide) said that he’d done it with a group in 2 hours. Steve and Smithy put Anthony and I to shame, chatting and laughing their way up! I couldn’t believe it!! To be fair, Anthony probably could have kept up, but he kept waiting to check I was still coming around the next bend! So as the time keeper, I got there in 1hr 20 mins. You can take some time off that for Steve and Smithy who were sitting around looking very relaxed by the time I puffed my way to the top!

Unfortunately we couldn’t really see Machu Picchu from Llactapata as there was too much cloud cover. We hung around for a while at the top and checked out the ruins before heading back downhill towards the hydroelectric train station. A few hours later we arrived a bit tired and hungry and ready for lunch! After lunch we made our way along the train tracks to Aguas Calientes, spurred on by the prospect of the hot springs at the other end.

The hot springs were vile. There’s no other way to describe them! We thought it was going to be a natural oasis, but instead after buying our tickets (you can’t see the springs from the ticket gate of course) we were greeted with what looked like a pretty disgusting local swimming pool… but with yellow water and literally jam packed with people. Ok, so the water is naturally brownish in colour, but with that many people soaking in them and drinking cocktails, you can’t help but think that maybe it’s been a little tinted by something else. We stayed for a while, and then went back to the hotel for a shower. Our shower was cold which kind of sucked, but it was still nice to get clean! Then we went out for dinner and an unfortunately late night (slow service at the restaurant… but good food and great cocktails so it was worth it!).

Finally the morning arrived when we’d get to see Machu Picchu. Anthony and I had been dead set on climbing Wayna Picchu, but fortunately Smithy told us that the better climb is actually Machu Picchu Mountain (which sits behind the famous ruins) and the view is better because you go higher and still get to see Wayna Picchu too! I say fortunately because they only let 400 people climb Wayna Picchu in a day and to get a ticket you basically have to queue to get on the first bus from about 4am (bus leaves at 5.30). Saved from this fate we all arrived around 7am in time to see the sun rise and beat the Inca Trail trekkers who all arrive around 9am. We had a 2.5hr guided tour of the site with Smithy. Usually we don’t really like guided tours but he knew a hell of a lot and it was really pretty fun. The ruins were amazing, better than we expected them to be, which is always a nice surprise. The climb up Machu Picchu was brilliant, full credit must go to Fumiko… the 7 yr old who managed to get about 3/4 of the way up on her own two feet before being carried by her father who again put us all to shame by fireman lifting her over ground that I was struggling to climb using my two hands to help me!

Click here for some nice big images of the ruins!

Anthony and I spent the afternoon at the ruins as we were on a train at 7pm back to Ollantaytambo. We fell asleep on the train and in the car that picked us up and arrived back in Cusco at about 11pm. We ate some dodgy food before the train ride and Anthony ended up driving the porcelain bus for half the night which was a bit of a worry considering we were supposed to be on a very real bus for 20hrs from about 3pm. Fortunately after stuffing him full of anti-nausea pills, antibiotics and rehydration drinks we managed to get on the bus to Lima. Oh… I was feeling fine and had a fantastic hamburger and two strawberry milkshakes before the bus journey.

Staying by the beautiful Lake Titicaca is a little deceptive. In many parts, the opposite banks are so far away that they’re invisible and it gives the feeling of being by an ocean, but 3811m high it’s anything but. We spent a couple of days of doing not very much other than exploring the town and climbing the two peaks that straddle either side of it for some lovely views and a great sunset over the lake. On our 3rd day we decided to hop on a boat to Isla del Sol. After a tourist-packed and painfully slow 2hr journey we arrived at the tiny port of Cha’llapampa. As we decided to stay on the island for the night we took the advice of the owner of our hotel and waited for an hour at the port to allow the tourist crowds to head off down the trail we’d be taking. The advice was perfect, we had the whole route to ourselves for the day, with only the odd tourist off on the horizon ahead of us. We wandered the island and had lunch in the middle of the Chincana complex of Inca ruins (on a conveniently placed Inca picnic table) with an amazing view of the lake. After walking the picturesque length of the entire island we had a well deserved beer before spending the night at a lovely little eco lodge near the town of Yumani.

The next morning we popped by another small Inca ruin on the way to a tiny pier where we took a boat – same size but all to ourselves this time – back to the mainland. From the town of Yampupata we walked the 16km back to Copacabana, visiting a small, dusty museum along the way. We had to find the owner to unlock the front door for us but there was a mummified corpse inside – and who wouldn’t want to see that! – so it was worth the hassle.

The following day, after our few days of relaxation, we cought an afternoon bus to the Bolivian/Peruvian border. There we said goodbye to Bolivia and walked across the bridge into Peru which seemed to be pretty lively. For some reason there were bands playing and market stalls all along the 200m walk to the Peruvian immigration office, where we jumped back on our bus to dingy Puno. There we had an overly complicated change of buses and headed on, overnight to Cusco.

That said, our first impression of La Paz was incredible. We arrived as the sun was rising over the many terraces of the city. La Paz lies entirely in a valley so makes a for a spectacular view, particularly as the sun rises. Unfortunately once we got off the bus we couldn’t get a room at the hostel we wanted to and the one we ended up staying at was a bit weird. To get to our room we had to walk through one of the dorms and the walls to our room were glass with curtains that didn’t fully cover them. Also, we could hear everything from the dorm. Still…. it was a bed and there was a shower and given the ordeal of the past few days we were relatively happy.

After settling into the hostel we headed out to book ourselves onto ‘The World’s Most Dangerous Road‘ bike ride. We were thwarted at every turn. Because it was a Saturday most of the shops had closed before lunch so we wandered around, ate some food, checked out the modern art gallery and went back to the hostel. That evening we located the ‘best’ restaurant in La Paz and headed out to celebrate John and Annika’s wedding!! We were disappointed not to be in England celebrating with them, but we had a lovely meal in honour of them anyway.

Sunday morning we tried the bike shops again. Closed. We’d heard from some Spanish speakers in our hostel that the newspapers were predicting the strikes would get worse, hitting La Paz and the rest of the country. We thought that it was best not to hang around any longer, so decided that we would leave the following day for Copacabana. We spent the rest of the day wandering around the city getting into any galleries that were open. We wandered up the beautiful Calle Jaén only to be disappointed by its museums.
There were colourful markets set up on El Prado and marching bands around the Plaza Pedro D Morillo, so we found plenty of things to entertain us. Outside the Iglesia San Francisco (closed!) we saw a couple of men who looked as though they’d tried to model themselves on childrens’ storybook pictures of Jesus and God performing blessings. Very odd. We had a surprisingly excellent curry at a British-Indian curry house and had an early night.

Monday morning we were up early, checked out of the hostel and headed for the bus station. We’s missed the morning tourist bus to Copacabana and didn’t want to hang around for 4 hrs until the next one, so we made our way to the cemetary and the local mini buses that also make the journey. It was relatively uneventful and even though we were sad to be on our way out of Bolivia it was a relief to finally get to beautiful, calm, quiet Copacabana!

Our 7 hour bus ride to La Quiaca on the Argentine border was reasonably comfortable and we arrived at 7.30am. It was freezing cold but we were treated to a spectacular sunrise. We walked with two other travellers, Antoine (French) and Johanna (German) – who we met at the bus station the night before in Salta – to the border which was about 1km from the bus station. We were pretty short of breath during the walk as we’d climbed about 2km in altitude during the bus journey. After getting our exit stamps from the Argentine immigration office we walked across the bridge into Bolivia. After a small queue and some simple checkpoint formalites we headed into the Bolivian town of Villazón. It was the first time I’d ever crossed a border on foot.

We changed our Pesos for some Bolivianos and walked another kilometre to the Villazón bus station. Once we arrived we began hearing rumours from other travellers of protests in the city of Potosí – one of the places on our itinerary. We had other plans before we’d arrive there though so we had some time for it all to die down. We caught another bus along the partly sealed, dusty road to Tupiza, arrived there 3 hours later and had found and checked into a hostel soon after.

After booking ourselves onto a couple of tours, all 4 of us headed out for lunch. It was 2pm, the siesta was well and truly in effect and Tupiza was like a small, dusty old ghost town. After half an hour of searching we found a single open restaurant. The receptionist at our hostel had told us of a place in town to definitely not eat at if we wanted to keep our digestive systems in order. But could any of us remember the name she gave? No. There wasn’t any other option. We had to eat, and we had to be back at the hostel for our first tour at 3pm. It didn’t look too great but we headed in anyway.

Pizza. We all agreed it was a safe bet. We asked what type of pizza they had. ‘Pizza con carne’ was the reply. Could we have it without the meat? ‘No.’ Did they have any other pizzas? ‘No.’ Pizza con carne it was then. After a surprisingly ok starter of vegetable soup (a traditionally Bolivian way to start a meal), the pizza arrived. We immediately realised why we couldn’t have it without the meat. It seemed like an animal (cow/llama/horse?) had been skinned and that skin, with about a centimetre of poorly cooked meat beneath it, formed the ‘base’ of our pizza. After moving it around to figure out what the hell it was, we ate the rice and potatoes it came with, while trying not to look at the rest of the meal on our plates.

Pizza con carne. Of course. Why did I ever expect anything else?

As we headed back to the hostel we were frustrated as we passed numerous decent-looking restaurants that had begun to open after the siesta. But we walked on and at 3pm, went on our first tour – a 3 hour horseride through the red wilderness of dusty quebradas and cacti. It was true cowboy country (think Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid) and our ride went out as far as El Cañón del Inca where we were completely surrounded by the huge red walls of the canyon. It was great fun and after my first ride in La Cumbrecita a week-or-so before it was good to have a horse that would trot on command! That evening, with everything open again, all 4 of us went to a restaurant recommended in our guide book and had a pretty decent meal. This time… vegetarian.

The next morning we were up early to begin our tour around the areas of Bolivia that most people come to the country to see. The tour we had planned was a 1200km, 4 day off-road journey around what’s known as The Southwestern Circuit, through one of the world’s harshest wilderness regions, ending in Uyuni. All 4 of us left Tupiza in a 4WD with our guide and driver Sergio and our cook Emma. Within an hour we were already driving through some of the most beautiful landscapes we’d ever seen, many of the hills had vertical stripes of rock visible on their surface, showing how layers and layers of volcanic rock had cooled then been tipped almost 90 degrees over millions of years of tectonic plate movement. We climbed a huge amount during the morning and with a bit of a headache, had our first lunch break at 3600m served out of the back of the 4WD. We then travelled through some small villages, saw a couple of lagoons and had a distant view of Volcan Uturuncu. That night we stayed in a hostel in a tiny village called Quetena Chico. It was 4200m high and got extremely cold once the sun had set. A short stroll outside away from the light of the village meant that I could see a starry sky that rivalled the one we saw while sleeping on the sand dunes in the Great Thar Desert in Rajasthan. The amazingly dense stripe of stars of the Milky Way stretched across from the north east horizon to the south west horizon. It was only the cold that kept me from staying out there for too long – well, that and the wonderful soup that Emma made that evening. It helped us cope with the cold for a while. Antoine surprised us by bringing along a bottle of red wine, but the heavy increase in altitude that day meant that we didn’t really feel up for drinking and had to decline his offer. We all stayed up playing cards for a few hours before deciding to get an early night.

The next morning we travelled further south west, through the village of Quetena Grande before reaching the entry point of the Reserva Nacional de Fauna Andina Eduardo Avaroa, a 7150 sq km national park in the south western corner of Bolivia. We paid our entry fees and drove on. We were definitely on top of the Bolivian altiplano now as the amount of altitude change was considerably less on the 2nd day. It was a long journey but it certainly wasn’t the sort of journey that got boring. The landscape would change so much over such short distances, both in colour and terrain. We passed the Salar de Chalviri – a small salt flat – and stopped at a few lagoons where we got our first glimpse of the flamingos that breed in the high country.

We then entered the region of Los Lipez and after a few more hours of driving we reached the very south western corner of Bolivia. There we stopped at a ridge of grey rock and got out of the car for a stunning view of Laguna Verde – a massive and vibrantly green lagoon that gets its colour from the huge amounts of lead, sulphur, arsenic and calcium carbonates in the water, it’s basically a big poisonous lake. Behind the lake was the huge Volcan Licancabur which sits on the border between Bolivia and Chile. Sergio told us to just wait for a while, to enjoy the view and to watch the lagoon. As we did the water got progressively greener as the chemicals reacted to the increasing light from the sun as it rose in the sky. From where we were we also got a glimpse of a live (and smoking) volcano!

As this was as far south west as we could go in Bolivia, we turned back and took a slightly different route north. After another hour or so of driving we arrived at the Termas de Polques. A real treat in the heart of such a cold, harsh part of the world. It’s a small 30 degree geo-thermal hot spring pool in the middle of 4200m high nowhere. We all spent half an hour relaxing in the pool surrounded by a magnificent steaming landscape. Refreshed after our dip, we had yet another great lunch that Emma seemed to have created from nothing, and carried on northbound.

The next stop was truly amazing. We took a sudden left turn from the road and within 10 minutes the ground had turned from dusty red to rocky grey and it felt like an odd lunar landscape, only something was missing. Then a short while later we realised what it was… craters. We’d arrived at the 4850m high Sol de Mañana Geyser Basin and all around us were multicoloured craters of bubbling mud and the thick and nauseating aroma of sulphur fumes. There was a freezing cold wind but we could stand near the steaming, bubbling holes in the ground to keep warm. We spent 45 minutes wandering around the craters, trying not to get splattered by boiling mud and being careful not to step on any damp or cracked earth which apparently could cave in quite easily. It really felt like we were walking around on another planet.

Our final stop on our 2nd day was Laguna Colorada. A 60sq km firey red lagoon, only 80cm deep, fringed with bright white minerals, and populated with hundreds more flamingos. After a short walk around part of the coast we drove to our rest stop for the night, slightly inland from the edge of the lagoon. It was only about 4pm and we had a whole evening to kill so we decided to take a walk up to a nearby viewpoint for a high view of the lagoon as the sun set. Yet again Antoine was disappointed when we all declined his offer of wine. Dinner without wine, the Frenchman wasn’t impressed.

The third day was unbelievably windy as we made our way north. We passed odd rock formations and valleys and the rougher terrain was a little more preferable as we could hide from the wind. As the land flattened out and we began to drive along sandy desert, we found ourselves being chased by small tornadoes. At one point we briefly stopped at the side of the road to let a truck past and as we did I looked out of my window to see a tornado about 20m wide raging towards our car. The whole 4WD wobbled and there was a loud hiss as it was pelted with huge amounts of sand as the tornado passed right over us. The landscape turned from bumpy sandy desert to completely flat salt and although the ride was more comfortable, there were a few occasions when we’d have to drive into a wall of completely opaque dust. Visibility was zero and we would just have to proceed at a crawl, in a straight line and hope that when we got out the other side of the dust (if we weren’t hit by an oncoming vehicle) we’d still be able to see the tyre tracks that formed the road. We stopped for supplies at a shop in the dusty, windy town of San Juan. There we heard that the protests were ongoing and road blockades had extended out from Potosí as far as Uyuni, our final destination. We didn’t know whether we’d be able to get into Uyuni but we’d just had to hope that the protests would be over by the next afternoon, when our tour was due to end.

We continued on to our rest stop for the night but worryingly, they didn’t have any water, petrol or electricity. The road blockades had been having a bigger effect than we thought while we had been away from civilisation for the past 3 days. We heard that it was also difficult to get petrol everywhere which, as Sergio told us, could affect our final day on the tour. He decided to drive us on to another hostel he knew, slightly further north. It was in a place called Chuvica, right on the edge of the Salar de Uyuni, our final big destination of the tour and the thing most tourists come to Bolivia to see. We had an amazing view of the Salar from our hostel that evening, but what made it even more interesting was the fact that our hostal was MADE of salt. Apart from obvious things like toilets, taps and windows, pretty much everything was made of the lovely white condiment. The walls, tables, chairs and even beds (there were matresses on top thankfully) were made of it, and everywhere we walked we’d hear the crunch of grit salt beneath our feet.

Over dinner Sergio told us that the blockades meant that we wouldn’t be able to get enough petrol to complete our tour as planned, and that we’d have to miss a drive halfway up Volcan Tunupa for a great view of the Salar. It was a shame but we were all more concerned about being able to get into Uyuni at the end of the tour. Along with another great meal Sergio brought out a bottle of wine and uncorked it for us. We could hardly refuse, but soon realised that it tasted like shit and once Sergio had left us alone, we resorted to finally having Antoine’s bottle instead. We all headed to our salt block beds wandering what the next 24 hours would bring.

If you’ve read this far, well done. You’ve manage to get through almost all of the ‘we did this’ and ‘we saw that’ stuff. Things started to get a little more interesting on the following day…

We woke early to see the sunrise over the Salar de Uyuni – the world’s largest salt flat, 3650m high and covering an amazing 12106 sq km – and drove right to the center of the flat to Isla Incahuasi. We arrived to see 3 4WDs already there. Sergio told us that there would usually be about 30 or so by that time of the morning. The blockades had clearly affected tourism. Our guide book described Isla Incahuasi as an odd cactus-filled island in the middle of an other-worldly sea of bright white nothingness, a place that is enjoyable if you can ignore the hordes of other tourists bustling for the perfect photograph. Today though, other than the 4 of us, there were no tourists at all. We had the whole place to ourselves, which was amazing. We wandered the island with its giant cacti, taking photos and admiring the tourist-free view. When we got back to the car Sergio and Emma told us over breakfast (which included sponge cake – how the hell did she bake a cake?!) that they really weren’t sure what they were going to do. They barely had enough petrol to get us back to Uyuni, and that was IF they could get us back to Uyuni because of the blockades. They had enough to get back to San Juan where there was apparently an unblocked route to Uyuni but they’d heard that there was no petrol to buy there anyway so that was pointless.

We had no idea what we were going to do. There was no phone signal so we couldn’t find out what was happening. We couldn’t figure out which was the best route to take to return to Uyuni. We were stuck, and of all the places in the world to be stuck, we were stuck here:

After a bit of a wait Sergio decided to take the most direct route to Uyuni. He had to get us back there by that afternoon. Firstly because he and Emma don’t live there, they live in Tupiza, so they had to try and find some petrol to get them all home once they’d dropped us off. He also had to pick up his son in Uyuni. Oh, and there was the small matter of Alexandra and I oweing him B$1400 (Bolivianos, about £130) as we’d only paid a portion of the cost of the tour up-front, so he had to get us to the one and only ATM in town as soon as possible. We stopped halfway along the Salar to take some tricky perspective-related photos (as everyone does there), and as on the island, there were no other cars to be seen. It was one of the most tranquil places we’ve ever visited and we realised that not many people get to see it in the way we were.

We drove closer to Uyuni, stopping at a hotel built on the salt to try and get a phone signal – no luck, even with Sergio standing on top of the car – before heading to the edge of the Salar. It was then that we caught a glimpse of a blockade. There were a few trucks and vans waiting to get past what was simply a row of small rocks placed on the road. There were crowds of protesters just hanging around, some with balaclavas on – to hide their faces or to keep warm, we weren’t sure. We couldn’t decide whether it was a threatening situation or not, but as we pulled into the queue of vehicles at the blockade, Sergio told us that as long as we didn’t break the road block, they’d remain peaceful. So we waited, and the playing cards came out once again.

After about 2 hours of sitting at the blockade watching the protesters hanging around, they all grouped together for a meeting. Then someone aproached our car, had a chat with Sergio and Emma and then left. We weren’t sure what was said but Sergio then started the engine and took another route to Uyuni.

Within 20 minutes we’d arrived at another blockade. It seemed every route to Uyuni was blocked and all we could do was wait to be let through. Some other tourist 4WDs arrived and we even saw a couple of 4WDs stuck a few kilometres away in the middle of the Salar. We heard that with only a little fuel left, they had tried to take a path off the designated tracks and the salt collapsed beneath their cars. People were getting stranded out here but everything remained calm and fortunately non-violent towards us. Occasionally we’d see a car approach the blockade at an angle that made it look like it was going to pass the block. Then we saw how the protesters would react. They’d all run towards the car with rocks in hand, shouting and threatening to throw them at the windows until it stopped. It seemed everything would be fine and noone would get hurt, we just had to wait. They just wanted to cause some disruption.

After a couple of hours of waiting Emma served lunch in the 4WD, and we continued with the card playing. Sergio kept getting out of the car to chat to the other guides to try and find out what was going on. Then our day took its most unexpected twist. We were in the middle of what was probably our 50th round of ‘Arsehole’ (the card game) when Sergio decided to jump into the car and turn it around. He’d done this before to park it out of the wind behind another vehicle so it wasn’t so out of the ordinary. Except just as we thought he’d stop the car, he decided to slam his foot down on the accelerator! He drove us over some nearby train tracks that travelled along the road to Uyuni and off-road into some pretty dense bush land north of the road at high speed. The crazy guy was trying to make a run for it, with the 4 of us in the back! The protesters chased after us on foot and were throwing rocks in our direction, while the tourists started cheering and beeping their horns in support. Obviously this was completely unexpected for the 4 of us in the back of the car and we were bouncing around all over the place, each still holding a set of cards in our hands, while trying to come to terms with what Sergio had just done.

As soon as he felt he was far enough away from the road he turned a sharp right to head towards Uyuni about a kilometre north of the actual road. We all looked to our right, towards the road. We could all see a dust cloud that was being kicked up by one of the protesters’ cars that had peeled away from the blockade to give chase. Sergio kept glancing to his right too, he clearly knew they were chasing. I looked out of the rear window, there was plenty of dust from our car too. They’d know exactly where we were, just as we knew where they were, and they were on a road, while we were dodging bushes and ditches and travelling much more slowly. We all started to worry what the consequences would be if they caught us, which was looking likely! I realised that we were all laughing about the situation, but it was a kind of nervous, crazed laughter. This was insane… we were in the middle of an off-road car chase in Bolivia, not something that was part of the itinerary!

Without warning Sergio mumbled something to Emma, stopped the car abruptly and hopped out. I thought there was something wrong with the car. He paced away in a straight line, it was as though he’d given up. We all watched him walk, confused at why he’d give up here after all that effort. He stopped, still facing away from us, stood for a while, then returned to the car. Everybody needs to piss I suppose. He was clearly much more relaxed about the situation that we were.

It seemed that Sergio’s toilet stop was a good move. We could no longer see any dust from the car on the road. Had we lost them by stopping our dust trail? After a few more minutes and a stop at a farmhouse to ask for directions to another road to Uyuni, we were heading in the right direction again, only much faster now. We approached the outskirts of Uyuni, and we could see lots of people walking around. We didn’t know who was a protester and who wasn’t and, if any of them were, whether they knew about our recent escapade only a few kilometres up the road. Sergio kept up the speed as we approached them and luckily noone seemed to care about our presence. As we headed for the safety of the buildings, where we could blend in, we drove by a dusty, rubbish strewn football pitch where there was a game being played. I turned to follow the game as we passed it by and then out of the rear window, I saw 3 more 4WDs speeding towards us from the very bush land we’d just come from! They were obviously tourist 4WDs, as they had backpacks strapped to their roofs. It seemed they’d decided to follow our lead and break the blockade, but they were too late! As we headed into a long street I saw about 20 people running for the 4WDs throwing rocks at them, then a car sped in from the direction of the main road into the town and tried to cut off the tourist convoy. The first 2 4WDs got out of the bush land in time to get away from the car but the 3rd had to take evasive action as the car drove right into its path. It avoided what would’ve been a terrible crash just as we turned a corner and we lost sight of the action that we would’ve been involved in if we were only 30 seconds later.

Sergio calmly slowed down and cruised along the wide dusty streets of Uyuni. I got one more glimpse of a speeding tourist 4WD as it crossed a street in the distance, but noone was following. My heart was still pounding as Sergio stopped across the road from the only ATM in town. I ran across the road to get the cash. We just needed to pay him, take our bags then we could all disperse and noone else would ever know what just happened.

The ATM was out of service. Perfect.

After a long search we ended up getting a cash advance (with a hefty comission) at a restaurant, but they only had enough cash to give us the money to pay Sergio. We paid and said our goodbyes to Sergio and Emma and thanked them for a day we’d never forget, then found ourselves a cheap hostel. Uyuni was heaving with backpackers as noone had been able to get out for the past few days. So as we were lucky to get a room at all, we decided to pay for 2 nights. While standing in the lobby of the hostel that night we heard from other backpackers that the British and Canadian embassies had heard about the trouble in Bolivia and had persuaded the local police to make a deal with the protesters and arrange a police-escorted tourist-only bus service out of Uyuni the next morning. But… we didn’t have enough money to buy the tickets as they were more than double the standard price. I had to lie to the hostel receptionist and say that I didn’t have enough cash left for dinner that night and that I’d need my 2nd night’s payment back, but that I’d rebook the room the next day once the bank opened.

With our newly reclaimed 100 Boliviano note, we had enough to buy tickets AND have dinner, so we queued up outside the police station and bought our tickets to Oruro. Then we all celebrated surviving our action-packed day unscathed with pizza and a few beers.

At 5.15am the next day, all 4 of us were at the front of the queue outside the police station for the 6am bus. We caught one of two buses from there and within 5 minutes of driving were stopped at the blockade at the edge of town. It was dark outside but we could see the blockade which was marked with piles of burning tyres on the edges of the road. Some of the protesters boarded the bus and were surprisingly pleasant to all of us. They just wanted to check that all of the passengers were tourists. They weren’t. There were 3 Bolivians on our bus and even more on the other one. They had somehow managed to buy their tickets on the black market. According to the protesters, the deal had been broken and now noone was going to be leaving Uyuni at all.

After about an hour and lots of persuasion from the police, the Bolivians got off the buses. Thinking that we’d then drive on to the safety and ATMs of Oruro with ease, Alexandra gave the Bolivians most of our remaining cash. Unfortunately it wasn’t that simple and we were left for another hour and a half wondering how we’d survive another night in Uyuni, before the protesters agreed to let us pass the blockade. As the deal had been broken though, the protesters decided that these were to be the only buses to pass the blockade from then until the end of the protest, whenever that may be. They advised the police to go back into town and find enough tourists to fill the empty seats as it would be their last chance to get tourists out of the town. Another hour later more tourists boarded the buses and we all passed though peacefully.

It was a long and arduous journey. We had to take a huge detour to avoid the main roads to Oruro as there were many other blockades along that route. We were driving on real 4WD terrain, only we were on a bus. Within the first hour part of the suspension on our bus broke, and was fixed with a rough and ready bit of rubber strapping. Then a few kilometres further the axel of the other bus broke. After waiting around for another hour watching them remove the wheels and try to dismantle the axel bearings using Coca-Cola as a lubricant, the driver of our bus decided to proceed leaving the other bus behind. It was the last we saw of them.

On the normal roads the journey from Uyuni to Oruro would’ve taken 8 hours. Our journey took nearly 21. We had to cross the entire Salar de Uyuni again, and we noticed that many of the people on the bus were seeing it for the first time, as they never had the chance to get onto a tour because of the protests. We realised how lucky we were to have seen it in the way we did. Once we got to the northern side of the Salar, yet another blockade stopped us as they hadn’t heard about the police agreement and, despite us being a bus of tourists with a policeman sitting at the front, didn’t believe our story. A couple more hours of waiting and negotiation by one of the tourists and the policeman with the protesters and we were on our way again. We finally arrived in Oruro at about 2.45am the next morning and not wanting to stay there, gritted our teeth and bought tickets for the first available bus to La Paz, which left at 3.30am.

We did end up getting to La Paz later that morning. But something unsurprising happened an hour into the 4 hour journey. Our lovely, modern, comfy bus… broke down.

Bolivia, thanks for the memories.

The next time we had Internet access, we checked out how much the British and Australian Governments had changed their warnings…

We didn’t have anywhere to stay when we arrived, so we walked into town, looked at a few places and eventually decided upon Residencial Elena. It’s in a neocolonial building just a couple of blocks south of the plaza and is run by a really lovely Spanish family. Once we were settled in we headed up to the impressive Plaza 9 de Julio to locate the Museo de Arquelogía de Alta Montaña (MAAM) which houses the truly amazing mummified bodies of the Incan children found on Llullaillaco in 1999 (although only one is on display at any given time). Even though we had been told how incredible the mummies are (thanks Janna), nothing could have really prepared us for just how life-like they are. We also popped into the Catedral to try and take some photos, but it was filled with children, I’ve never actually seen a full church before, let alone a massive cathedral, it was quite an impressive sight! Back at the B&B that evening we met Laliv and Yossi in front of the fire who are travelling in the opposite direction to us. We ended up spending hours talking about travel, films and even a little bit of biology and ended up skipping dinner and going to bed late.

The next morning we met Laliv and Yossi for breakfast and spent another couple of hours chatting! Then we headed to the Museo de Arte Contemporáneo, but unfortunately it was closed for assembly of a new exhibition. That evening we went up to Pajcha – Museo de Arte Étnico Americano, a privately owned gallery north of the centre of town. We were greeted like long lost friends by the Deputy Director, Diego, who proceeded to give us a really fascinating guided tour. He is amazingly enthusiastic and very dramatic in his descriptions, especially when moving from one piece to the next… ‘Prepare your attention!! Especially you, Anthony!’ he would say as we moved from one to the other. ‘Alexandra! Try to see! Try to see the feather! Always the feather!’. At first we were trying to hide our mirth, but soon we realised that it made the whole experience so much more alive and interesting than usual. The gallery was founded by an anthropologist who has been collecting for practically her whole life and it really shows in the quality and quantity of the pieces. It is one of the best presented galleries that we’ve been to here which is pretty amazing considering it has no government funding. After our tour we sat in a café for an hour or so until it was a reasonable time to have dinner (9.45pm). We had steak and chips at La Leñita and ended up sitting next to the Puerto Rican basketball team! I really wish we had some photos, these guys were HUGE! Halfway through the meal one of the waiters grabbed a guitar and started singing folk songs to the guests, he was a great singer.

Friday we got up really late, did some yoga and exercises and went out for lunch. We were planning on booking a bus from Salta to Humuhuaca to see the quebrada, but we realised that we will see similar landscape once we cross over to Tupiza, so we booked a bus straight to La Quiaca which is on the Argentine side of the Bolivian border. We can’t book onwards from Villazón to Tupiza, so we’ll have to sort that out when we get there. Tickets safely in hand, we decided to take the teleférico (cable car… reassuringly made in Switzerland) up to the top of Cerra San Bernado to check out the view of Salta from on high. Luckily we chose a good day to go, it was pretty spectacular.

Today has been pretty uneventful, we have already seen most of what we wanted to in Salta, so we had a late breakfast and wandered back up to the Museo de Arte Contemporáneo, which has reopened. It’s a pretty small gallery, but has some interesting local art. Then we walked around the sunlit and pleasantly warm streets taking some photos and discovering little markets by plazas. This afternoon we sat in the Plaza 9 de Julio and watched what we think was some kind of pre celebration for tomorrow’s Dia del Niño. There was also a band playing and some strange races where waiters ran around the park carrying a tray with a bottle of beer half poured into a glass. We were pretty impressed that none of them actually let the bottle topple! We have a couple of hours left before we get on the bus at 12.45am!

The fact that it was where Argentina’s independance was declared not only makes it a very important city in Argentina, but also determined much of the sightseeing we’d do during our time there. The most signifigant being the Casa de la Independencia and the cathedral. We also noted during our first stroll through the city that the siesta here was more obvious than any of the other cities we’d visited previously. All of the shops closed and the streets were deserted for a few hours. But considering that the suburbs are only 8 blocks away from the city’s main square – yet another Plaza Independencia – everyone must’ve gone home to sleep.

Randomly it seems to be a city of fitness freaks. We saw even more gyms, yoga, pilates and dance studios than we did in Buenos Aires. On our first afternoon we passed what looked like a standard South American old and slightly tired café – populated mainly with unhealthy men in their 60s smoking and drinking coffee. The big difference between this and most other cafés was that the back wall was made of glass and behind it was a huge gym full of far healthier people working out. The contrast was very strange.

After Córdoba, Tucumán wasn’t quite as attractive – even though there were pretty orange trees everywhere. So a day and a half was about enough for us and we were looking forward to getting back into the countryside for a week-or-so.

I was supposed to be writing the next blog post a week from now about our journey through Tucumán and then through a few of the towns in the hills to the west. We were supposed to leave Tucumán for Tafí del Valle today to then head on to Cafayate, to drink some more wine (Torrontés this time), to visit the Quilmes ruins, and to spend some time trekking in the hills, quad biking and driving around the Quebrada.

That was the plan, but this morning we arrived at Tucumán bus station to be told that the road to Tafí del Valle and onward to Cafayate wasn’t passable because of ice on the road. After a couple of days in Tucumán we didn’t want to stay any longer. We decided to accept that were going to have to miss almost a weeks worth of plans in northern Argentina and that we’d be arriving in Bolivia a little earlier than we thought. Not too much of a problem, as we’ve heard so many great things about it. Within a couple of minutes, we had the guide book out, checked the map, decided that the next stop would now be Salta and bought our tickets. We found the bus and a few minutes later we were on our way.

So, a short post and not so many pictures this time. It’s amazing how quickly plans can change.

The next day we took in some of the sights. Again we were a little thwarted by closings during the middle of the day (namely the supposedly great English tour of the university which we tried to visit three times, on the final time it was open, but they weren’t running the last tour of the day, the one we had arrived for), but we managed to see the Cordóba Cabildo and the very sobering Museo de la Memoria. We certainly didn’t know much of the history of Argentina when we arrived, but found out shortly after arriving in Buenos Aires that during the late 70s and early 80s the government ‘disappeared’ a startling number of people who didn’t support it. Many of the people who were taken were frighteningly young.

In the afternoon we walked to Parque Sarmiento which was a dusty disappointment and Museo Provincial de Bellas Artes Emilio Caraffa which had some pretty uninspiring exhibitions showcased in one of the most interesting art spaces I’ve seen. We spent hours trying to find somewhere for dinner as most of the places listed in the Lonely Planet were either closed or simply don’t exist anymore.

On Wednesday we decided to get out of the city and explore some of the Jesuit estancias that are in the surrounding countryside. We took a bus to Jésus Maria and jumped out, eager to see what the town had to offer. For about an hour we felt as though we were in some kind of comedy game being played by the citizens of the town as we were sent from one end of town to the next and back again in search of the mysterious tourist information office. We never found it, but did manage to find our way to the Estancia Jésus Maria. It was a pretty impressive building and we learned a bit about the Jesuits in the area.

We had read that the most impressive of all the Jesuit estancias is Estancia Santa Catalina 20km outside Jésus Maria and that it’s pretty cheap and easy to get to in a taxi. Not so. Well, it is beautiful, but certainly not easy to get to. We jumped in a cab at the station and I was encouraged by the fact that the nice lady taxi driver called me ‘dear’. Then she said something about ‘el camino’ and ‘muy feo’. Ok, so at this stage we thought she was talking about some kind of tourist ‘way’ that people drive to look at all the estancias and that for some reason she thought Santa Catalina was ugly…. It was only once we got onto the terrible dirt road leading to the estancia that we realised she meant the road out there was ugly! But we arrived safe and sound, if a little shaken, and handed over the AR$57 plus 10% tip. The doors were locked and she wouldn’t let us out! Turns out she wanted AR$100 because the road was bad. I managed to stumble through the words to explain that we wouldn’t have enough money to get back if we gave her that, and eventually she relented.

After that ordeal we were keen to have some lunch and then look around. We were pretty nervous about being able to get back as this is literally a dirt road with a couple of shops and a church. But we figured worst case scenario we’d start to walk and hitch if we could. As we were wandering around looking lost a friendly gentleman herded us into a beautiful garden surrounded by old buildings. We asked if we could have something to eat and were taken into a pretty little restaurant and told that they had pasta. Fortunately Anthony had the foresight to ask how much it was… AR$50 for a plate of pasta!!!! Usually somewhere nice it MIGHT be AR$30. So we told him we could only afford one portion! He was a little frosty after that, so we ate and ran. We joined the Spanish speaking (and only) tour of the estancia and managed to understand bits and pieces. I spent most of the time chatting to a nice girl from Buenos Aires and was secretly hoping that she and her family might be able to give us a lift back to Jésus Maria at the end! Unfortunately they had a full car. Our faith was restored at the end of the day by the guide, his friend and a lady who ran a sort of general store who really went out of their way to get us a lift back to town and wouldn’t accept any payment for making the calls for us. Needless to say, we were pretty glad to make it back to Córdoba that night.

On Thursday we checked out of the hostel and leaving our big packs behind headed for La Cumbrecita for a bit of trekking and riding. We had to change buses in a place called Villa General Belgrano. We knew that it  was a town founded by Germans, but nothing could really have prepared us for it. It’s like a permanent Weihnachtsmarkt. There are even loudspeakers in the street playing oom-pa-pa music and the main street is lined with shops with Germanic names selling steins, bretzels and tablecloths covered with edelweiss. We stopped for some food and then jumped on the bus to La Cumbrecita. It turns out that La Cumbrecita was founded by Germans, Austrians and Swiss, so it was sort of similar to Belgrano. Pretty much the only meal to be found was Goulasch con Spätzle, followed by Apfelstrudel. Fortunately it was pretty tasty. We spent the afternoon wandering around, booked a horse ride for the following morning and had dinner and a relatively early night.

On Friday morning we had a pretty amusing, yet uneventful horse ride outisde the town. The scenery was beautiful and the horses were great. Our guide didn’t speak a word of English, so we didn’t really mange to learn to much either about the area, or how to ride a horse, but it was fun nevertheless! We had noticed on the map that there was a 2hr hike to a peak called Cerra Wank… how could we possibly resist! Apparently you’re only supposed to go with a guide, but we were already running a bit late, so we went on our own. Got a bit lost, but eventually reached the peak at 1715m and were pleasantly surprised that there was noone else around. Tea and cake at a German bakery at the end of the mini hike made it all worthwhile! Had more Goulash con Spätzle and went to bed.

The next morning we checked out and took a final walk out to the waterfall. We stopped at yet another little German bakery on the way and ended up chatting to the lovely, if somewhat crazy guy who runs the place. He was obsessed with Carlos Núñez, and insisted on playing us his music while looking at what seemed to be his personal album of photos taken around La Cumbrecita. It was pretty funny. Jumped on a bus back to Belgrano to take some snaps and eat more German food and then back to Córdoba.

On Sunday morning we checked out of the hostel again and made our way to the university for the 4th time to see if we could do the guided tour of the university. We were a bit early and it was closed again, so we had some breakfast and made it back just in time for the tour at 11am, only to be told that it was in Spanish. Luckily they told us the 5pm tour was in English, so we headed to the cinema to see the newly released ‘El Origen’ I don’t mind telling you that that’s the Spanish title for ‘Inception’. After the film we headed to the university for our tour. It was surprisingly pretty interesting, Universidad Nacional de Córdoba is either the 3rd or 4th oldest in America, depending on who you speak to and was founded by the Jesuits. It has some incredible old books including a version or the Bible in 7 languages from the 17th Century. After the tour we headed to the weekend antique markets to have a look around, then a bit more evening sightseeing before heading back to the hostel to wait until it was time to catch the bus to Tucumán.

We arrived not so fresh at 8.30am on Wed and jumped in a taxi to our B&B. Unable to check in for a couple of hours we stepped out to check out the area and see if we could find a wine bar. Unfortunately the town was still pretty sleepy, so we had a coffee and some medialunas and looked around for a wine tour for the next day. Later that day we found a great place and booked on a bit of a posh tour, and as a bonus they gave us a voucher for a free glass of wine! Happy at last, we made our way to The Vines of Mendoza and ate cheese, drank wine and chatted to the staff who were all too happy to begin our vino education.

We dragged ourselves out of bed the following morning, ready to be picked up at 9am to start ‘tasting’. Already in the bus when we arrived were Bill and Mark from DC. Lovely guys who had already done a tour with the same company only two days before, a good sign! Mark is a Spanish teacher so it was pretty interesting having him around. Soon after, we picked up Walter, a Brasilian guy who was VERY into his wines. Needless to say, we felt a little like children amongst the grown ups! However, I was to discover towards the end of the day that Bill and Mark didn’t take it too seriously, when I commented that one of the reds smelled like washing up liquid and they chuckled along with me!

We visited some truly beautiful wineries and tasted some sensational wines, surprisingly alongside the Malbecs and red blends, there were a couple of good whites too! We also learned a lot about the region and wines in general. For lunch we were at a place called Ruca Malen where we ate five courses with 6 ‘paired’ wines. Delicious food, great wine and a view of the Andes to boot, we were very happy! Throughout the day we saw and tasted wines that are produced in the old wooden containers (Mendel) or concrete vats (Alta Vista) and those that are produced in the new steel ones (Sottano). We found out that the ‘reserva’ wines from the region have been stored in new French (and some 20% American) oak barrels for at least 12 months. Not such a fascinating statistic until you realise that the best of the best oak barrels from France cost 1200 euros a piece and are often only used once for the gran reserva wines!!!! We also got to see some wines being bottled at Sottano, a pretty interesting process to see. Fortunately we were dropped at our door at the end of the day and managed to sober up a little before heading out for empanadas for dinner!

Didn’t do a lot on Friday, slept in, tried to do some sight seeing and book bus tickets, but we seemed to be thwarted at every turn by the incredibly long siesta that seems to run from midday until 4pm! So we mainly hung out in cafés and had our own long siesta in the afternoon! We did find a great place for dinner, but freaked the staff out by walking in at 8pm, I don’t think they were expecting anyone until at least 10!

On Saturday we braved the local buses to get to Maipú to hire bikes for a day of cycling around vineyards. There were a couple of Scandinavians trying to get on the bus in front of us, but they hadn’t bought the ‘Red Bus’ card that you need to pay. As we were all tourists, the driver seemed to think it only fair that Anthony and I pay for them using our card! Given that it was all of about 2p we decided to be charitable. It was nice to have some company on the way to the bike shop and at least there were four of us looking like idiots as we jumped up and peered out the window every time we saw a sign! We got the bikes from Mr Hugo, who rather surprisingly for someone who runs a roaring tourist operation, speaks practically no English, and were on our way. We visited La Rural/Rutini, Trapiche (where we had a great tour… in Spanish), Familia Di Tomasso and a great place that makes chocolate, dulce de leche, olive oil and spirits! Rather bravely Anthony tasted the 75% Absinthe (only legal in Argentina and Czech Republic) first. I decided to pass when I saw the look of pain on his face and the girl doing the tour told me she blistered her mouth when she had it! The dulce de leche was great though! On arrival back at Mr Hugos, we were greeted with another glass of red wine, it was almost getting too much, but only almost…. when we returned to Mendoza we went back to The Vines for some half price happy hour fun.

Sunday we were up early to check out and to try the gallery we’d been wanting to visit, it was closed again! So we spent most of the day wandering around the beautiful park and drinking coffee in cafes. After another meal that we turned up for so early we think we were actually eating with the staff before their shift, we headed for the bus station for our overnight bus to Córdoba.

It’s been a long time since our last post, and we had a bit of time in Australia before we left to begin the last section of our journey in South America, so I’ll start back then. Here goes… this is going to be a long post!

After our wedding we had a wonderful couple of weeks up in Cairns, where it was a comfortable winter temperature of 28°C. We had enough time to relax after the wedding, to enjoy some post-wedding quiet time with family, and to start to think about a rough plan for South America. At the beginning of June we said goodbye to Cairns and returned to Sydney to catch up with friends for a few days. The World Cup had begun and the forced football fever had temporarily gripped a large enough portion of the nation to warrant a big screen in Darling Harbour and football-themed ads on television. It wasn’t the best place in the world to be, with the tournament taking place in South Africa, and after finding myself as the only person willing to get up at 3am to watch England play the USA, the following night it was a little easier to stay awake. It was the night that the ‘Socceroos’ (an unfortunate nickname) would be playing their opening match against the Germans at 3.30am. After spending the evening out with friends, Janna (an Australian/German friend, and a big F1 fan) and I decided to pop to a bottle shop on the way back to her place in Bondi to buy our fuel for a night/morning of sport – lots of Doritos, a decent sized bottle of vodka and plenty of Red Bull. Alexandra promptly crashed out on the sofa after a single sip of the drink, leaving Janna and I to finish off the rest while watching the Canadian Grand Prix. At 3am, after the race (which Hamilton won, the only English success of this post) we woke Alexandra and all stumbled, red-eyed and weary, to the local pub to watch the football. After the Aussies were comprehensively handed their coats by the Germans, we were surprised to run into some people from Framestore – small world and all that – and at 7am despite us feeling like zombies we went with them for breakfast to have a chat and a catch-up. Afterwards, Alexandra and I decided to try and get a few hours sleep.

After a great few days in Sydney with good food, drink and friends, we didn’t want to put our backpacks on again, knowing that it’d mean the last chapter of our trip was beginning. Despite our reluctance we caught our flight to Buenos Aires excited at all the things we’d be doing there. With a 13 hour flight, and with an awkward time difference from Sydney, we knew we’d be tired when we arrived, but a lucky upgrade to premium economy certainly helped soften the blow. Considering our exhilarating but exhausting time in India, our intention in South America is to spend longer in quite a few places over the few months we’ve got here. BA was one of those places and we were looking to spend at least 4 weeks there to really get to know the place.

We arrived and it was a pretty easy transfer to our first of four different accommodations in BA, a backpackers hostel right in the centre of town. It was immediately obvious that this country was obsessed with football (not that I didn’t know it already), and the hostel was a great place to be for the first of Argentina’s World Cup games. We slept in a little late that morning but were woken by a  massive cheer as Argentina scored their first goal against the Koreans. We quickly got up and watched the rest of the game in the huge tv room which was packed with enthusiastic Argentines. It was great fun to be there with them all. During the tournament I also noticed an awful lot of teenagers playing Shakira’s World Cup song out loud from their phones while walking down the street, something that probably wouldn’t happen in London, not with Shakira anyway.

We stayed for a couple of nights and used the time to hunt down a homely B&B that we could spend a month at. We decided to stay in San Telmo – an area with loads of character, interesting architecture and some great restaurants and bars – and the day we spent walking around the area looking for a place to stay certainly helped us get familiar with it. It was a chilly 10°C or so and combined with the look and feel of the city, made us feel like we were somewhere in Spain, and certainly not as far away from London as we were.

We found a place we liked, negociated a good deal, paid for the first week and moved in. Still feeling jet-lagged, we tried to get an early night. We soon realised that our room was situated right above a night club which played a continuous stream of house music at exactly the same beat from 9pm to about 6am. The whole room vibrated at that beat throughout the night, as did my head, and the next morning we promptly got a refund, arranged a room at our second-choice B&B, and moved out to accommodation number three. It was a little more expensive, but was well worth the extra cash. Finally settled, we felt we could start to get to know BA properly.

We had four weeks of Spanish lessons booked to begin the following week, and we had a weekend to do some touristy things before they began. We soon found that most of the places we wanted to visit were reachable on foot and the streets were amazingly quiet for such a big city. We managed to see quite a lot in those few days including Cementerio de la Recoleta, the Floris Genérica, Casa Rosada and the Museo de la Ciudad. Interspersed with all of these things we started to introduce ourselves to the amazing food and wine that BA had to offer, and there was plenty of it. One morning while walking the quiet streets around the Cathedral, we even heard La Cumparsita – the most famous of all tango melodies – being played from the bells of the Cathedral.

Our first day at Spanish school started the following week and we were happy that the walk we’d be doing every morning was quick and easy without much traffic to get in the way. The first lesson went well and I soon realised that this was a pretty fast-paced course. Lots of the things I’d learnt from a short course at school (13 years ago now, which scares me) came back to me and it all seemed pretty good. Except one thing, homework. It really was like being back at school.

The room at our B&B was set away from the street and on Tuesday morning we opened the front door to head out to our lesson and were shocked to step into the polluted chaos of buses, cars, motorbikes and people. We later found out that the day before was a public holiday and most people had headed to the country for the long weekend. The true face of San Telmo had revealed itself, and there we were, for a few days at least thinking that it was the nice quiet part of the city. Being a Londoner, it didn’t take long to get used to the people and noise, but the pollution from some of the old trucks and buses was pretty hard to bear sometimes. BA is a city with some seriously old vehicles on the streets. I thought I’d seen my last Ford Sierra about 10 years ago, but here they were, battered and bruised but still running, and looking decidedly modern next to some of the 45-or-so year old Ford trucks that were all over the city.

The next week or so didn’t turn out as planned for us. It has to be said that BA is a city for getting up late, eating late and staying out very very late, and we were failing in our self-set task to get to know the city more like a local would. Getting up early, going to study Spanish for 2 hours and then having homework to do, all coupled with the fact that we were still a little jet-lagged, meant that we were struggling to sync our body clocks… not to GMT-4, but to BA time, which is something entirely different. Luckily for me though, most of the World Cup matches were on either in the morning or early afternoon, so that worked out pretty well! We did manage to get to a great evening Tango show and found a San Telmo steak house that served what is still the best steak I’ve ever eaten. It was so good that we ended up going to that restaurant five times while we were there! We also visited a few great bars, but were still struggling to match the Port eños‘ stamina for going out and staying out.

We were getting to know BA by day though, and it definitely felt like we were beginning to settle in to the city after the short time we’d been there. We even started doing less touristy things like going for a few jogs around Puerto Madero and even went to the cinema (where I found out that Eclipse is a pretty shit film).

After two weeks of two hours per day of Spanish, we were booked in for four hours per day for the final two weeks. There were times during the first couple of weeks that I felt like my head just couldn’t take in any more information, and it was going to get even more intense. Maybe, just maybe, increasing the intake of vino tinto (I had remembered the most important words) each night would help me cope. Or maybe not, it was worth a shot though. A night at our favourite restaurant (La Gran Parilla del Plata, on the corner of Chile and Peru) where we managed to wait until 10pm before turning up, highlighted just how late the people in BA eat. We managed to finish our meal at 1am, and even as we were finishing, a couple of guys walked in for dinner. It was an extreme case, but as we clearly still needed to get into the BA groove, we moved the rest of our Spanish lessons into the afternoon to help us adjust.

During that week we headed to a nice little San Telmo café for lunch, a place with a menu written in Spanish. We had the dictionary out and were clearly far too obvious about it because we were approached by an Australian girl who introduced herself as Hayley and kindly offered to help us with the menu. Well, she helped by translating one word for us before pointing at my menu and saying ‘You should just try that!’ So we did. We got chatting while waiting for the food and agreed to get in contact again soon. Hayley left, and the food arrived. It was an excellent recommendation. A huge wooden platter of cold cuts, cheeses and pickles with a bowl of chunky bread. We wondered what other great recommendations Hayley might have for us and we decided to make sure we got back in contact soon.

The next day it was time for England to play Germany. We headed to Gibraltar – an oasis in the desert for British ex-pats and tourists who need their fix of beer battered fish ‘n’ chips served by a fat bloke who speaks English with a northern accent and tells terrible jokes. My day was ruined by the Germans, but at 4-1 neither me, nor the fat barman could argue with the result. It was not the last time the pesky German youngsters would try to ruin my day.

Later we headed to another nice little San Telmo café. The plan was to have a quick lunch and then to find another pub where we could watch Argentina play Mexico in their first knockout game. The café had one tiny tv showing the build-up to the game and while we were eating our lunch the place steadily filled up with all kinds of people, from children to a small group of grannies. The one similarity between them all? Celeste y blanco… light blue and white. They were clearly all there for the game, and the atmosphere was great. We decided to keep our seats, order another couple of coffees and stay. The streets outside were deserted for 45 mins, while inside the café the passion of the people was on full display, with huge cheers of ‘¡Vamos!’ and the grannies with flags wrapped around their heads banging the coffee tables with their fists when the Argentines scored. For 15 minutes the streets returned to normal (other than the beeping horns of cars and cheering from the locals – and it was only half time), and then it was back to the game.

I was hoping that it’d take my mind off of England’s terrible performance, and it certainly did. In the end Argentina won, and in that little café, it was very obvious that they had. Germany were next, and the people were confident.

After a few days during which we managed to surprise ourselves by taking to the extended Spanish lessons fairly well, we also visited a couple of excellent restaruants. Café San Juan was absolute proof that steak isn’t all that BA has to offer, as we had some fantastic pork with shallots wrapped in grilled prosciutto.Then the following evening La Vineria de Gualterio Bolivar provided us with a 16 course experimental degustation menu that included things like a shot glass of roast cauliflour gravy, and a chocolate cloud (chocolate sauce, foamed up and quickly frozen in liquid nitrogen before being served).

Then came Argentina v Germany, it was a big big game, so we headed to Plaza San Martin (a big park) to watch it on a big screen with a big crowd. Unfortunately the only big thing at the end of the game was the Germans’ score. But despite the defeat, the Argentines didn’t seem defeated. Maybe it was the scoreline that made them seem to give a collective shrug of the shoulders and display an ‘Oh well, maybe next time’ attitude. I was ready to be disappointed with them (my nationality prepares me for sporting disappointments) but by the end of the match, I think I ended up being more disappointed than they were. The World Cup party was over in BA, but it was still a great party to have been at.

The day after we had a great Sunday afternoon wandering around and taking photos at the markets on Defensa – a long cobbled street that runs through the length of San Telmo and beyond. Our pub lunch was disturbed when I had to run outside to take some photos of a guy singing and playing a wobbling piano on wheels as it was pushed along the cobblestones by two of his friends, who also doubled as his backing singers.

After getting back in contact with Hayley the week after our first meeting, we ended up going out with her a couple more times over the next week, and were introduced to a few friends, Sam, Ben Lauren and Mike. After an evening in a bar in Palermo – one of the more up-market areas of BA – we had an ‘interesting’ night at a club where a British DJ attempted to convincingly mix mid 90s UK Garage with West Coast Hip Hop. He failed miserably, and needless to say, we left pretty soon after we arrived. Earlier that evening Hayley kindly invited us to stay with her in her new apartment as she had a spare room, and after a little rearranging of dates with our B&B a few days later we happily accepted.

Since they kept annoying me with their excellent football, that week I was happy to see the Germans knocked out by Spain (apologies to Christian and Janna!), and it seemed there were plenty of Argentines who shared my feelings on the matter.

The following Saturday morning we moved into Hayley’s beautiful San Telmo apartment (which simply meant repacking our stuff and walking a few blocks) and we all immediately headed over to the weekend farmers’ market to stock up for the week. We returned to the apartment with bags of great fresh food, looking forward to all of the things we could make now that we had a whole kitchen to use! We spent that afternoon walking around La Boca and watching a little more tango. Then on Sunday we all went to watch Spain beat The Netherlands to win the World Cup.

Being at Hayley’s place for the last week-and-a-half of our time in BA totally changed how we spent that time. She had so many ideas, plans and recommendations that put our guide book to shame. On one of the days not only did we pack our Spanish books before leaving for our lesson, we also packed some steel mixing bowls and a couple of steel ladels. Hayley was going to a gay rights protest later that day as the Senate were due to vote on legalising gay marriage the following evening, and she invited us along. The protest was a response to a large event outside the Palacio del Congresso where people protested against the law being passed, and the small gathering of a few hundred people at Obelisco with their pots, pans and voices (and a few resurrected light blue and white vuvuzelas) was enough to make a lot of noise and even got a mention on the BBC News website. It was a precursor to a much larger gay rights event at the Palacio del Congresso the following day. We went along with Sam, Ben and Hayley and made plenty of noise, and also went to the larger event which had a huge attendance, a great atmosphere and live music. The morning after, we heard that the vote was passed in the early hours after about 14 hours of debating on the issue. It was a great result and we were so happy to have played our small part in the protests.

Our Spanish lesons came to a close at the end of that week and our very basic understanding of the language probably contributed to us feeling like we’d finally ended up getting into the way of life of BA. We weren’t so much living the life of the Porteños, as living the life of the Porteños whilst on holiday. (Hayley was also on a holiday from work, which made that easier.) After a week of nights out, an excellent party at Ben’s apartment was absolute proof that drinking wine, Fernet and vodka until 6am and feeling like it’s only about 1am was now actually pretty easy for us! We softened the blow of the hangovers with yet more wine and some great steak during a visit to La Cabrera with Ben and Hayley the following evening.

After a rainy Sunday kept us indoors for most of the day (recovery time), Hayley made sure we had stuff to do on our last full day in BA by taking us around Abasto and for a huge lunch of high tea at Las Violetas – a totally unnessary purchase after having had a pizza an hour earlier, but great all the same. We then all went to La Bomba de Tiempo for a great purcussion show, and had farewell drinks with Sam, Lauren, Ben and Hayley at Territorio – the same place we first met Hayley at only a few weeks before.

The next evening we left BA on a first class 13 hour overnight bus to Mendoza – flat bed, movies, a meal with wine and even bingo on board! – to try and learn about the amazing wine we’d become so accustomed to drinking over the past few weeks, and to get our first glimpse of the Andes. BA is one of the most fun, vibrant and interesting cities we’ve ever visited and we had no regrets about spending 5 weeks there. In fact we decided to change our itinerary to return to London from BA instead of Lima, so it wasn’t a final goodbye to BA and our friends. We’ll be back there in late October for some more fun, food and Fernet!

Huge thanks to Sam and Lauren for the laughs, Ben and Mike for an amazing party, and especially to Hayley for making our time in BA so much better than it could’ve been!

Here are some pictures from our time in BA.