Narrow escape and waterfalls

My last footstep on the South American continent was technically the last step I gave towards the customs officer on Sao Paulo Airport. For me however, it was the first step I took onto the Dutch KLM airplane that would take me to Schipol in the Netherlands and eventually on to Istanbul.

After my Amazonian river trip I spent a few days in Iquitos before flying back to Lima, the capital of Peru. The three days I spent there waiting for my flight to Foz de Içuasu in Brasil was spent watching the Copa America - The South American mini version of the world cup. I also finally got around to eating Peru's signature dish. 'Cerviche' is cold fish and octopus dish served with rice, rather humongous corn bits and peppers. The dish was extremely spicy and I was forced to buy 2 drinks to extinguish my now mangled taste buds. (A rather clever sales tactic I would later concede...)

Another nail biting incident was caused by my laundry. I had handed in my laundry to be washed the Friday afternoon, where I was informed that it would be ready Saturday at 6pm. It took me until Saturday 9pm to realize that I had forgotten to pick up my clean clothes, I rushed over, but as can be expected the laundromat was already closed for business... As the fates would have it the next day was obviously a Sunday and in Catholic Peru, the chances of a small business being open on a Sunday is quite slim indeed. The laundromat, of course, was closed. My international flight to Brasil the next day was at 12 in the afternoon. Knowing that it takes about 40min to get to the airport on a good day and up to an hour or more with traffic from where I was staying I reckoned that if I grabbed my washing at 8am I would make it before the 10am deadline for sure. No such luck. The laundromat wasn't to open until 9... I found myself in the precarious position of having to abandon 60% of my washing or missing my flight to Brasil. I chose the former as I hailed a cab at 9am. As the cab turned the corner I saw the owner opening the laundromat! In the same breath as I was shouting ESPARAR POR FAVOR!! I was leaping from the car and grabbing my bag of clean clothes, and more importantly, underwear... I made the airport with 7minutes to spare and was on my way to Brasil.

The town I stayed at - Foz de Içuacu, was the Brasilian Border town on Argentina next to the world's 2nd largest waterfall - the Iguazu waterfall. The waterfalls were indeed great and only by a slight margin greater than the breakfast I received each morning at the Green House Hostel, which included an assortment of cakes, fruits, scones, spreads and ham and cheese! It was probably the best value for money hostel I've stayed in in all of South America. I stayed there for 4 nights, and on Friday I flew off to Sao Paulo, from whence I left South America in search of Greener Islamic pastures. Turkey.

Conquering the Amazon

Herein follows the account of AJ Marais. Amazon conqueror. Here follows a word for word translation of my journal entries between 4 to 8 June 2015

4 June
"At about half past 9 we arrivied at the Henry harbour where we boarded the Henry 1 for 100 soles. We received our designated hammock spots on a deck specifically designated therefore. I had some initial difficulties with mine, becuase it was not taught enough. I remedied this by hanging it higher and therefore tighter."

"We set of at 14h30. Only 2 and a half hours over schedule! We are 5 gringoes on the boat - two Americans who both detest civilisation (or perhaps just american capitalism?) And a Frenchie. At dinner I realized that I had neglected to bring myself some cutlery. I will have to devise one from one of my plastic water bottles once I finish it. Until then, I'll make due with eating with my hands. All the water on the ship comes from the river, yet all the garbage generated on the boat gets dumped into it?? Immediately following dinner about 44 million mosquitos come out to play and you are forced to retire to your hammock and mosquito net at 6pm. It's not very comfortable to sleep in a hammock. I guess I still need to learn the inns and outs of it!"

5 June
"I did not sleep very well. I was awake at 5h30 due to the constant rattling of the engine room. Also because of the fact that no Peruvian in the immediate region owns a pair of earphones and feels inclimed to share his distasteful taste in 'chicha' music with everyone on board. Best alarm ever. Breakfast was disgraceful. A sweetish porridge with 3 dry buns. I ate the buns and dumped the porridge overboard. I'm not nearly as board as I thought I would be. For larhe parts of the day you lay in your hammock under the pretense that you are catching up on your journaling. Sometimes you fall asleep, but mostly you just stare at the moving bank with a strange sort of contentedness. Lunch was better, but I still had to eat with my hands. After lunch I invited all the gringoes up top for a bit of 'Ron' (Rum) and cola. After this I took my first shower in the very suspect river water, taking great care to keep my mouth and eyes tightly shut for the duration. Once again the mosquitos forced my hand at 18h00 and I was forced to retire to my hammock. This time in a more comfortable position - I'm getting better at this!

6 June
"I slept better than last night, but still woke up a few times. We received the same atrocity for breakfast again. Apparently it's oats. Chocolate oats. Over my dead body and overboard! From my finished bottle of water I fashioned myself a spoon type implement with which to eat. I performed admirably! After lunch it got really hot and humid and for the first time I got really agitated if someone even some much as grazed past my hammock or touched it. A lot of people seem to be getting off at every other stop except the people right next to me!"

"I decided to give my hand a go at poetry. I dedicated it to the boat and all its shenanigans. Basically all the absurdities I have observed so far."

7 June
"This day began like every other with blaring chicha music at 530. What a great way to start the day. Once again the rather ambitious 'porridge' found its way to the river instead of my stomach. After 'breakfast' we stopped at a local town where I bought myself a 'chucha' fish (kind of bottom feeder mudfish/catfish) for 4 soles. The fish's skin is as hard as an exoskeleton and the fish was surprisingly easy to eat. About an hour and a half out of this town, the barge sailed over the small boat we've been tugging along and had to stop to have it salvaged and 'dewatered'. I spent a long time tonight on the ship's upper deck listening to music and looking at all the pretty stars. Apparently we arrive in Iquitos at 2am tomorrow, but we're all definitely staying on board until at least 6am."

8 June
"Of course there was no need to set an alarm, because the 'chicha company' this time started playing their siren songs at 2am and kept going until 6am. Luckily, as the law of eventual immunity states that if something persists long enough, you will grow immune to it. I fell asleep till 5h30. We got on a boat taxi that took us (Sarah and I) to land and from there took a motorcycle taxi to the green track hostel, which was very pleasant. Through the morning I walked into town and subsequently booked my flight back to Lima on Friday and afterwards treated myself to my first proper hamburger in South America at the 'Texas Grill'. The 'Texas Grill' also had a bar upstairs to which Sarah and I adjourned to later that evening for Mexican cocktails"

Lima to Pucallpa to Iquitos

The following details the information gained from first hand experience the route to Iquitos. In the first section I will outline all the basic information of undertaking this adventure, followed by my own experience.

Pucallpa is one of the port towns from which you can purchase passage to Iquitos on a cargo barge. To get to Pucallpa from Lima, purchase a 90sole bus ticket from TEPSA bus company. Altough this 20odd hour bus ride is only semi cama, I can vouch that it was one of the best, modern and organized bus rides I have had in South America. Temperature control always works, the meals were excellent and the stewardess was extremely helpful and on the ball.

Once you arrive in Pucallpa the next morning, (roughly 9am) take a mototaxi and ask to go to the 'Puerto del Henries' (no more than 4soles) (port of the henries) and ask when the next one leaves, one usually leaves every second day. The Henry barges are one of the cargo companies that transport goods and people along the river. I've read that you should try and avoid the Henry 3 like the plague and that the Henry 8 and 6 are good choices. I embarked on the Henry 1, which was in my opinion doable and cost 100soles.

Take a day in Pucallpa to prepare for your 5day journey to Iquitos and stay a night. Your mototaxi will take you to a place either you know of or more likely, the one he receives commission for from the owner for bringing in clients.

Be sure to buy the following:

1. Hammock and rope to ajust your hammock AND hang your mozzienet.

2. Mosquito net (optional but I wouldnt have managed without it).

3. Insect repellent.

4. Water for the first 2 days (the boat stops at several villages along the way where you can restock. THERE IS NO DRINKING WATER ON THE BOAT).

5. Your own tupperware bowl and cutlery for the meals.

6. Dish washing soap.

7. Snacks (once again you can restock on basic snacks along the way).

8. Ample distraction aka reading material.

9. Some form of security with which you can lock your bags to a pole or bench near you so someone doesn't 'accidentally' wander off with your daypack or backpack (I bought myself a meter long chain and lock)

10. If you take strong drink with you, use with care as it has a habbit of dehydrating you quickly and without warning. Water being a resource that has to be managed carefully on board.

The hammock and mosquito net can be bought at Mercado 1, or ask your hospedaje owner where it can be bought. Depending on the size, mine was a large one, it shouldn't cost you more than 40, 45. When you get to the boat, someone will help you set up your hammock. Their judgement is usually sound and they will try and place you close to the windows for ventilation and the other 2 or 3 gringos present on the boat.

Once you get to Iquitos ask any mototaxi to take you to the plaza de armas, from where it should not be to difficult to secure accommodation. Flying dog and Green track hostals are both excellent choices for the boat weary traveler.

This trip has to be undertaken with a lot of open mindedness and a sense of adventure. There will be 120+ people on there sleeping in very close proximity to you. In the whole of Peru nobody seems to own earphones so there will be constant 'chicha' music blaring somewhere quite close to you. There will be 15 to 20 very young and cry-inclined children on board. But above all it is an adventure and an unforgettable experience to undertake in the far corners of Peru. I'll definately recommend doing it.

The last Hurrah

It's been an emotional few months in South America, especially the last month or so. From meeting the stumbling and bumbling young William way back in Santiago and nursing him successfully into South American manhood - up until the point that he could almost pronounce "Por Favor" correctly. The timid and laid back Dutchman, Adriaan and his accurate and sharp summations of the world around us. And then finally Troy. The Australian who always seemed at home with a beer in hand and muttering 'what the hell' and hilarious one liners. This traveling troupe of four has at long last come to an end. William moving on to Ica, Troy into Bolivia, Adriaan to Huarez and the prolific and brave South African onto the Amazon basin and origin. 

Conquering the Amazon and its estuaries will be my last great adventure on the South American Continent and arguably the toughest as well. I'm getting a bus to Pucallpa as I am busy writing this post. One of the river towns from which several cargo ships leave port to the major city of Iquitos 5 days away along the river. Iquitos is so remote and entrenched in the amazon that the ONLY way to reach it is by boat or by plane. There are absolutely no roads leading to it. The town came into its own as a rubber production and oil trading town. It takes roughly 5 days and 4 nights to get there by boat. A staggering 900km along the river. On this boat I will be sleeping in a hammock along with roughly 120 other passengers, fighting off tropical climate, insects and boredom. Passage will cost me roughly R400 with meals included and a space to hang my yet-to-be-purcahsed hammock. 

The following post will detail my passage to Iquitos. The city in the Amazon.

Tracing the Incas' steps

After leaving the Peruvian Town of Arequipa (a very uneventful adventure, so I'll leave it out) at 21:30 on Sunday the 17th of May, we arrived at the ancient Incan capital of Cusco the following morning at 07:30. The four of us (William, Adrian and Troy - a new Australian friend aquired in Arequipa) wasted no time in booking into the Wild Rover hostel. Our third and final Wild Rover. This of course meant that I had qualified myself to become a part of one of the most elite societies on earth - one who has successfully navigated and survived all 3 Wild Rovers. I received a tshirt to commemorate my success. An even more significant piece of news was that the BritsBrothers and the Australian trio would be rolling into town tonight after their 5day arduous trek to Machupicchu -the lost city of the Incas. Frederick Newton however informed me that they will only be arriving at 2am - to long a time to wait and stay awake to welcome them. All of us retired early that night.

The next day all of us, totalling 11, went to the Incan museum together. It was interesting enough - it is clear that the Incans were very fond of masonry work as well as not bothering to write down instuctions how to replicate the extraordinary masonry work! Freddie and I finished first and went to sit on the steps of the cathedral where we were approached by no less than 22 hawkers trying to sell us their wares. We got up and left after about 15min. That night we celebrated our reunion at the Wild Rover bar. Once again marked by dancing topless on the bar and crowd surfing.

Wednesday saw us a little more timid. We spent the day lounging and exploring Cusco's large local market. We had a meal there which cost us R24. This included diced beef stew, rice, fries, salsa and half an avocado! Value you'd be hard pressed to beat at home! I also got bamboozled into paying approximately R60 for a shoeshine! But that's to be expected if you do not settle on a price beforehand... We also started scoping around for a tour company who would take us to Machupicchu for the best price, but we couldn't locate one within our price range. We decided it be best if left for another day and celebrated our decision over a couple of beers...

A couple of beers later on Thursday, we finally got round to go see some better priced tour guides. We found one who for $180 would give us 4days, meals, accommodation, transportation, a guide, white water rafting, mountain biking and ziplining all inclusive. They would be picking us up at 07:30 the next morning. Today was also the day that I would be saying goodbye to the BritsBrothers for the foreseeable future, as we would not be meeting up again before I leave to Turkey end of June. It was quite an emotional day as they said goodbye to Chriswell as well - one of the Australian trio. We had one last big night in the Wild Rover's bar, including bit not limited to:
1. Singing Katy Perry's 'Firework' at the top of our lungs.
2. Telling off an annoying american girl who tried to impeach on our moment
3. Hugging numerous times
They were kicked out at 3am to go back to their hostel. Great night.

Friday. By 07:45 we were alreay on our way to our first destination on our 4day trek. We stopped at the top of a 4100m pass and were handed mountain bikes and disturbingly inadequate protective gear... I only did half before realising that I was going to kill myself. I had had to little sleep and wasn't concentrating on the road. I got off and proceeded the rest of the way in the van. The afternoon we did the white water rafting, which was pretty average considering my previous two experiences were on the mighty Zambizee and Nile rivers. Both of which consisted of grade 4 and 5 rapids. This river only had 2's and 3's...

Saturday = trek day. We did a 22km hike along the famous Inka trail. A road in the mountainside that the Incans built for their messengers to carry news to neighbouring regions. Along the way our guide proudly told us of how advanced the incas were and how they had knowledge about penicillin long before the Europeans did. One can only wonder how about 90% were killed off by spanish bacteria based diseases. Everybody lived in an equal society as well, never mind the human sacrifices and builder slaves used to build their cities. Nobody felt the need to correct him of course. Along the way we crossed the river in a locally operated pully system platform. We ended the day at a hot spring close to the town we would be staying that night. Heavenly.

Sunday = Funday. We started the day off with ziplining across the canyon we have been hiking up. It was really fun and we did a total of 5 zips, with the lines crossing the canyon in a Zigzag fashion. After that we got on a bus to a Hidro electric plant where we continued on foot for 3hrs to Aguas Calentes. The town at the foot of Machupicchu. The walk along the traintracks is mind bogglingly beautiful.  You hike through a rainforest with mountains towering above you. The town itself is no less of a wonder and was reffered to many times as having a similar feel to it as a ski resort would. On top of that it wasn't nearly as expensive as we thought it would be - with a litre beer costing a measly R32 at the shop? We had a three course meal that night at quite a posh restaurant, including a starter, a soup and a main course. There the guide told us that tomorrow we had to get up at 03:45 if we hoped to be first at the first check point leading up the 1600 Incan steps to Machupicchu... tomorrow was going to be a hard day. We went to bed early at 10pm

Monday. At 04:15 we qued outside the firat check point, almost at the very front, at the base of the mountain. There was that electric feel you get before any kind of race as everybody wanted to get up there first. At 5am the gates opened and we were off. After about 10min of climbing I horribly lost the track and started off on the gravel road the busses use to get up there. After about 500m I concluded that this could not possibly be the right way and doubled back to were I lost the steps. I found myself way behind my friends and did the rest of the climb in technical solitude. If not for my phone's music blaring in my ears I probably wouldn't have made it. Climbing 1600 steps ALL THE WAY without pieces of flats in between is excruciating. The hike was worth it though as I made it up there just before the first busses arrived at the top. We went into the excavation site and took many photos and saw many exceptional masonry works. And would you have guessed it - more steps, the Incans' favourite way of getting anywhere.

First Impressions

After we finished the Isla del sol and Copacabana, we moved across the border and into Peru. The next major town we came across is called Puno and is wholely uninteresting appart from its one and only tourist attracion - the floating islands of Uros. Will and I speculated that these islands must have come into existence to escape and flee from the Spaniards - a very popular Incan activity back in the day. We were later corrected by the tour guide - the first of these islands came to be to apparently escape the Incan bureaucracy. Good old tax evasion at its finest.

In any event, on our bus ride to Puno we met a Peruvian fella named Fernando - a self employed tour organizer. He told us he could get us to the islands and back for a meagre 28soles each (1 sole equals almost R4), but that we would have to pay the families of the islands ourselves for food and accommodation - which would not be more than 30 soles each, for dinner, bed and breakfast included. He was very professional and organized and through him be also booked our 6hour bus trip the next day to Arequipa for 40 soles each. All the while we (or at least I) got a 'something is not quite right' feeling from this Fernando fellow, but it was all quickly dispelled by te smooth sailing and organization we experienced till we got to the islands. There the tour guide (actual tour guide, not Fernando) told us that these islands are built and float on the rootsystems of a water based grass or reed and that each island can 'live' for up to 30 years before they have to replace the floating root system that keeps it afloat.

We were the only Gringos (South American slang for Tourists) who wanted to stay for the night. It was at this point that we were introduced to a man whose name who I have expelled from my memory for fear of succumbing to pure dispisal and loathing. There are few things in this life which I despise more than people cheating me while there is nothing I can do about it. As soon as out boat pulled away this slimy man infromed us that accommodation would be 30 soles, but that dinner and breakfeast would be an additional 33 SOLES!? I was immensely close to jumping back in the water and swimming after the boat. Either that or actively fasting to to give this greedy man the biggest middle finger of his wretched life. We payed. Dinner was a measly and ill looking trout with undercooked rice and at breakfeast we were treated to coffee and ONE slice of toast with ONE egg.

When we got back to the main land Will and I tried our very best to get our 33 soles money back from Fernando, but he said he was very sorry but that there was nothing he could do about it. The tour companies do not work in conjunction with the islanders. He called up the greediest man on earth, yelled at him and told us to write the island a bad review on the internet. Which I did. No one actively cheats me out of money, with my knowledge and has the last say. I went through the trouble of Signing up for tripadvisor and wrote my first ever review filled with all the bile and fury I could muster, which was significant.

Fernando however would have one final weasely trick/con to play on us before we left. For his final swan song he actually booked us on the most local bus he could find (undoubtedly pocketing at least 15 of the 40 soles we payed him). The bus was jammed packed with locals, had no ventilation and was, and this is the best part, leaking rainwater into the compartment and onto my right shoulder. I spent 2 of the 6 hour bus in a rain jacket. Señor Fernando didn't even have the decency to put us in seats which had actual leg space, never mind room. He put us right at the front of the bus were we spent a cramped 6hrs wondering if our legs would still retain their functionality. Poor Will and Ad, both of them are 193 and 195cm respectively.

We finnaly got to Arequipa and booked into our 2nd Wild Rover hostal

Bolivian Wildfire

LaPaz went by in a blaze. On my and Will's first night we had a reunion with the fabled and mythic Brits brothers and their Australian counterparts. We had a very heartfelt and toasty reunion at 'The English' pub in LaPaz. They had also booked us in with them on the infamous 'Death Road' - Which anyone who has whatched Top Gear, will know what I am referring to! A staggering 64km downhill mountain biking blitz from a height of 4600m down to 900m. Our tourguides were very good and made sure we all had the proper kit and protective gear. The first 10km was down a very steep, but properly paved road. The next 54km was on a proper unpaved, gravel, deathish road... But none of this mattered, because as soon as 7 MEN come together, they tend to forget all about grievous bodily harm and imminent death and instead tend to focus on who can go fastest around the next bend. This proved true, true and true angain as we hurtled down the world's most dangerous road at speeds of 35-40km/h always pushing they guy right in front of you and being harried by the guy behind you. About halfway down I hit a loose rock and fell side ways over my bike at breaking speed. I was unhurt luckily and about 5mins later the younger BritBrother, Harry, followed in my example and tumbled head over heels onto the gravel. He was scraped badly but also without major injury. At the end of the track we were greeted with a swimming pool and a buffet lunch.

The next day was spent recovering from the previous day and indeed night's tom-foolery. I also coincidentally was in the right place to help move an organ in the nearby church/cathedral! The day after that I abseiled down a 17storey building in a spiderman outfit. Will, Freddie Newton (the britsbrother who had that day ascended a 6000m mountain), Ad and I went out for mexican food and then once more to the 'English pub' for a couple of rounds. Afterwards we went back to the Wild Rover bar and hostel where we continued our shenanigans.

Thursday we went to Copacabana. The gateway town to the most revered and sacred Incan Religious site. The island itself was beautiful and should be a stopover for any Bolivian traveler. We spent the night in a hostel at R60 per person per night. The town is on a steep hill overlooking the 'harbour' which at waterlevel is already 3800m above sealevel. A 200m ascent with backpacks on is no small accomplishment. The whole of the island is terraformed into ancient Incan terraces, which are still farmed to this day by the local people. We navigated our way down these vertical farms down to the lake shore where we had a swim in the crystal clear waters of Lake Titicaca.

Higest, driest, survivalist

Will and I left for San Pedro de Atacama from Santiago on Monday the 27th of April. A staggering 24 hour bus ride. After the bus was delayed by almost 3hrs we eventually got on it and set off. When endeavoring on such a long bus ride, try to keep in mind that the build up of human excrement over such time period without running sanitation can be overwhelming. We experienced this firsthand because our seats were right next to the "loo". Every time the toilet doors opened, Will and I would each partially lose consciousness due to the extreme stench. I am forever indebted to William for making a possibly horrendous experience into a hilarious one, mainly due to facial expressions and witty comments to boot.

We spent two days in San Pedro de Atacama, a town situated in the world's driest desert - the Atacama. We wanted to rent a camper van and drive out into the desert, possibly seeing sights such as geysers, salt flats, active volcanoes and just sheer desolation. Our minds were quickly changed by a counter-offer made by 3 Czech girls who wanted to do an organized desert tour into Bolivia. We quickly abandoned our old outdated scheme for this new and more adventurous one. The day prior to our departure we went and saw the vally of the moon, an area where there has never been any recorded rainfall!

On Thursday the 30th of April, we got picked up at our hostel that we shared with the girls - Lenka, Christina and Sharka at 8am. We crossed into Bolivia (the crossing being 4400m above sealevel) shortly after and were introduced to our driver - Diago, who of course couldn't speak any english. Luckily Christina was fluent in spanish and served as a translator whenever she remembered! The first day saw us breaking down, seeing sulphurous geysers at 5200m (we were only allowed to stay for a maximum of 15min as a combination of thin air and egg-smelling sulphur proved to much for most travelers. I was admittedly also quite lightheaded by the time we left), some more desolation and nothingness and wild llama-like nincuña animals.

The second day we spent driving more and more towards the greatest salt pan in the world. Along the way we saw active, smoking volcanoes and strange rock formations... By mid afternoon we drove into the town we were supposed to sleep in, but for some strange reason the tour company hadn't booked our stay... We were homeless. Our driver was a bit more stressed than we were and was constantly trying to keep our spirits up even though we weren't that bothered to start out with. In the end we found an even better hostel in the next town over. The building was completely made out of salt brick, which is mined off of the salt flats. We had a good night, with Diago even producing a bottle of fine Bolivian wine to accompany our large chicken-based meal.

On Saturday we drove out onto the salt flats themselves. Diago supposedly didn't sleep to well as he kept falling asleep at the wheel - to the great delight of me a Will, who watched as his head kept on nodding and his hands kept on slipping off the wheel! If you're going to fall asleep at the wheel of a land cruiser, the salt flats would be the ideal place as it is 100% flat and nothing around you for miles. The nothingness is immense. It was one of the most interesting placed I have ever went to.

At our end destination, Uynui, we spent the better part of 6hrs waiting for our 8 o clock bus that would take us to LaPaz, which according to Jeremey Clarkson is "highest and worst capital city in the world". The bus ride was not fun, even though we had the 'luxurious' cama seats. The bus was unheated and most of the journey was spent on gravel roads so we didn't sleep much. By the next morning at 8am we arrived in LaPaz

Success and failure

After having a 'scraping the barrel' weekend without my card I ventured out on Monday again to try and obtain it. Google maps turned out to be a massive help with this as it not only gave me the location of the dhl depot, but also which public bus to take to this location! This depot was located 19km away from my hostel and it took me around 45min to traverse the city to that point. I located the depot, picked up my card and got on the same number 508 bus back home. The feeling of success and thankfulness has probably never felt as great as when I withdrew my first cash from the atm in 3 weeks! At this point I felt that it was only appropriate to celebrate with a tripple macdonals burger and chips.

My success story ended on that Monday as the whole of that week was spent trying to obtain my European Schengen Visa to no avail. To make a long story very short and condensed, the european countries don't issue visas to non-chilean citizens or permanent residents, because it is immensely difficult for them to prove that you have means of sustaining yourself financially once you arrive in the Schengen area. 

On Wednesday night a whole bunch of us were loaded into a couple of taxis (we were about 11 or 12 people) by the self appointed 'party head' of la Chimba hostel and taken out to a massive night club a ways away from the club. The bunch if us got there in happy hour which was from 10 to 12. Perfect timing. The whole of South America only starts going out at after one o clock so the place was pretty much dead until then and then it suddenly erupted! The club is an old open air theater that has been transformed (a roof has been put on it) into a great dancing hall. It was a great and very successful night!

Valporiso & Santiago round 2

The Monday morning of the 13th I ventured out to the Portuguese embassy to try and begin sorting out my European Schengen VISA application. Before I ventured there I bought myself a 'proper' charger for my iPad. This charger then proceeded to break immediately upon my return to the hostel. Needless to say I was fuming. The next morning I returned to the shop, but I have a genetic disadvantage when it comes to keeping important documents, point and case immediately losing the receipt for the charger. The manager therefore was powerless to give me a new one and feebly offered me a 10% discount on the next charger I bought. No thank you. I reckoned after 4 years of sweating blood at the Stellenbosch engineering faculty, I have come to far to simly 'replace' my broken merchandise. That is the coward's way. It is not the way of men. A simple splash of super glue fixed the problem. I of course was quick to wave my 10 times cheaper solution under the manager's nose.

On Wednesday Vic, Gustav and I left for Valporiso. A beautiful town built on hills, street art and bohemian culture. We spent 2 night in a hostel 'section' of the city. On the first day I bought a packet of beans and brewed some bean soup for our traveling trio - it turned out great. Although I had meant to sell it to the other hostel patrons, they weren't to keen on a concoction that would make you fart for the next 24hrs! 

I returned to Santiago on Friday, hoping to get locate and pick up my debit card from the predesignated dhl office (which had gotten stolen in Puerto Varas). Not only was my debit card not at the designated office - the office didn't exist! I looked around a bit and found the depot a little bit down the street. Unfortunately the depot was gaurded by solely spanish speaking gaurds, and I couldn't negotiate my way past them into the office builing yonder. I managed to divulge that I should go to another dhl office a while away - which being a half-cripple is no small feat. When I eventually hobbled over there, my package, unsurprisingly wasn't there either. After calling some people I found that my package was located at yet another address - 19km away from where I stayed... It is at this stage that I gave up and decided to pursue this rather essential task on Monday.

Santiago

Pucon

I left Valdivia on Wednesday at 11am to go to Pucon, about 200km away. The volcano there has been smoking the past week and I wanted to get in on that action. Arriving in Pucon I found myself being turned away from the first 3 hostals I enquired at. I finally managed to find a Vegetarian hostal for 10000 a night, but with no access to the kitchen and no breakfast in the morning. A hellish place where people who enjoy murdering plants congregate and you couldn't bring meat on the premises for aloof vegetarian reasons. I took a room as I thought that I would have no other place available. I was delighted to be proven wrong half an hour later when I found a hostel with a bed for me for 7000 a night, kitchen privileges AND breakfast! I promptly went back to the cabbage palace and canceled my stay and moved in at Lacustra hostel.

The next day I took a local bus to the cheapest thermal baths/pool spots. I was completly alone and had the whole complex to myself. The warm water was nothing less than heavenly and had quite a positive effect on my mangled leg. I went back to the hostel after my 3h bathing excursion, where the owner (Fernando) and I spent the rest of the day watching the first 4 episodes of the popular TV series, Vikings, on Netflix. I got on the bus to the capital, Santiago, at 10 o clock that evening.

Santiago

I arrived In Santiago at 7am the Saturday morning and got a taxi to the hostel that Vic Hiemstra indicated he was at. The neighborhood looked really dodgy, with all the apparent shops being boarded up and closed down. The hostel however, La Chimba was a great success. As I was sitting down to wait for Vic to wake up, hello and behold my suprise when Freddie Newton (One of the Brits brothers I had an excellent night with in Colonia, Urugauy at the fuel station) came up behind me and with tears of joy greeted me. He immediately suggested I go and jump on his brother Harry's bed, who after the initial shock of seeing me was, as is to be expected, quite ecstatic. They Introduced me to 3 Australian guys they teamed up with during their travels.

La Chimba hostel has an addictive atmosphere, undoubtedly the best hostel I have stayed in thus far. I can honestly say that I didn't want to go anywhere in Santiago because I was glued to the courtyard drinking wine and beer the whole day with all the great people you meet at this place.

I received quite a rude awakening the Sunday morning when one of the reception ladies came in at 10h30. Her words to me were "Albertus, checkout was 30min ago, you need to leave." I was so caught up in the place that I completely forgot to rebook my stay for that night! Never one to keen to abandon my friends I resolved to just 'be a guest' at the hostel until the next morning, when I'd be a legal resident, with and actual bed again. This daring and slightly immoral endeavor was achievable because the hostel has a lot of receptionists and rotate all the time. It is also huge, having the capacity to sleep a hundered people. It was quite easy to don the appearance of an actual guest and remain under the radar.

The hostel came to a standstill at 22h00 that evening to watch the premiere of Game of thrones. Not having a bed that night I watched Django until 03h30 in the morning, borrowed a couple of pillows of a couch and moved into the Brits brothers' room with their Aussie mates, where I spent the night on the floor. When the sun rose at 07h00 on Monday I was once more an legal resident of La Chimba.

Valdivia

On Monday I left my small Anne Frank room alocove and made my way (after breakfast of course) to the bus station to catch my bus at 12:50. I am still amazed every time at how good the public transportation in Chile is compared to back home and also at how cheap it is. The 3h bus drive cost me less than a R100 and we arrived within 10minutes of the estimated time. All along the road the bus would pick up anybody who signaled that he/she wanted to get on. We even picked up someone underneath a flyover overhang? My first thought was how did this man decide that this was the best possible place to wait for and hail a bus?

I arrived in the University city of Valdivia at 16h00 and made my way to Airesbuenos hostel - one of the best hostels I've stayed in since the start of my journey. The price is 9000Pesos (R175) per night in a dorm and includes a healthy breakfast, the use of a well stocked kitchen, wifi and as an added bonus - a duck to torment you. The duck and I crossed swords on the very first day as I ventured out to explore the garden area. The infernal bird fancied itself to be a little higher up the food chain than was natural or oppropriate... It kept waggling between my legs and as I turned around I nearly stumbled over the damned thing. It then promply (Supposedly because I failed to pay homage to it or offer it tribute/bread) began biting my exposed foot. Those who know me best will know that I have little patience for animals who assume themselves elevated above the natural order, or my boot, especially if they are within kickable size and range. I wasted precious little time on the 'to kick, or not to kick' issue. I sent the feathered fiend flying (and not out of its own accord or ability!), at leat 1.5m through the air - thus dispensing swift justice and revenge apon my foe. It didn't think of raising the superiority issue again.

The second day saw me hobbling off to town with my still injured left leg. It held up suprisingly well, even though I walked much further that day than all my days in Puerto Varas combined. My first stop was the submarine museum O'Brian - a near ecstatic experience for a Oorlog-bedonerde Bertus. One could pay 2000Pesos for a guided tour into the bowels of the sub. The tour was conducted exclusively in spanish, but I caught the following bits of information:

It is between 50 and 40 years old.
It had a crew of 40.
It had a captain.
It had a second officer.
It has 5 toilets, one which is exclusively for the officers.
It has 6 showers, one which is exclusively for the officers.
4 Forward torpedo tubes.
2 Reverse torpedo tubes (to intercept hostile incoming torpedos).

Continuing on, I bought myself a salmon steak. The price of salmon is rediculously inexpensive (less than R60 a kilo?!), yet I have yet to see subsequent sushi restaurants take advantage of the cheap seafood on offer... Perhaps a possible future business venture for those with the entrepreneurial fire burning in their hearts?

Chile, in my inexperienced opinion, is a much better travel destination than Argentina. So far the experiences (barring my stollen wallet and being hate-eyed by the woman in Hornopiren for using her kitchen) have been much better and more enjoyable. It's cheaper - most notably the bus services, the supermarkets are bigger and much better stocked and the people are friendlier and more eager to help (not that the Argentines are unfriendly, they're just a bit more aloof). Finally Chile must be a very health conscience country. That or it is subject to devastating plagues every 6 days, for pharmacies in each Chilean town outnumber the number of auto repair/ pannel beating/ custom 4x4 shops in Parrow and Voortrekkerweg 4 to 1. There must be at least 2.5 pharmasists for each Chilean citizen, including those Chileans who are themselves pharmasists. Completely illogical and impossible, but the philosophies of logic and and possibilities do not govern the pharmacy-inigma of Chile.

I have received some complaints regarding my erreneous and lack of punctuation. I hope that this post will alleviate some of those grievances.

Special Edition #2

Hornopiren & Puerto Varas

After disembarkment on the Monday morning in Puerto Montt, Darren, Ben And I set out to find a car we could rent so the lot of us could travel up to Santiago together. That idea soon turned out to be a pipe dream, as the cost of the car more or less boiled down to US$160 per person between the 5 of us. We shared a lunch and then said our goodbyes. I retired to my hostel - Casa Perla, a really nice place for 10000Pesos a night.

Hornopiren

The Morning I ventured out and bought myself a knee brace and a Movistar simcard, before boarding the bus for Hornopiren, a town out on the Austral of Chile closely hugging the the mighty Andes mountain range. The roughly 160km journey took just over 4hrs to complete. With the bus having to board a ferry to cross one of the large fjords and breaking down 3 times due to a water problem enroute to the town. When I arrived I booked into a double room, which I had to myself, in a guesthouse called Residencial Austal. The owners did not speak english, but this was a minor inconvenience for the solemn and cheap 10000Pesos I had to pay per night. Hornopiren is a small town, but the surrounding views are indeed majestic. In stark contrast to the Argentinian side maybe less than 200km away across the mountains, Hornopiren is surrounded by Rainforest. There are some areas of the Austral that receive 7000mm of rain each year, but my time in the town was marked by remarkable clear weather.

I made the mistake of buying groceries at the local supermarket with the throught of cooking it on my own. If you ever stay here, do not make that mistake. The friendly hostess' eyes turned positively hostile when I showed up to the door with my groceries and asked if I could cook.. I quickly realized that the kitchen was actually off-bounds and I received cold stares each time I asked for a pot, a plate and even cutlery. I was so anxious to get out of there that I took almost ate the pasta half-cooked.

The next day I enquired about the local hot spring about 15km out of town. It was my plan to take the bus back to Puerto Montt, get off at the hot springs, chill for about 4hours and then get back on the sam bus traveling in the opposite direction back to Hornopiren. A plan perfect in theory, it's just a shame that the hot springs were closed on a Wednesday... I had to accept that I had come all this way to just to receive the stink eye from my hostess for 2days. I would not be visiting any hot springs in Hornopiren.

Puerto Varas

On Thursday I took the bus back to Puerto Natales, the central transportation hub of the area and got on the bus to Puerto Varas. A mere 20km away. I ended up staying on the bus one stop to far, so at the next stop I got up, lifted my huge bag and smaller backpack in the confined space of the minibus and shuffled out. I walked to the office side of the road and hailed another bus. As I got on and wanted to pay the driver, I realized that my wallet was gone. It got picked out of my raincoat pocket as I was clumsily shuffleing past the the other passengers. The sudden realization of how dependent you are on these pieces of paper really knotted my stomach. Even worse was the fact that I had no way of paying the driver for 2-3km of transport. Luckily I found a 50 Argintine peso (R70 - R75) note in my jean pocket and offered it to the driver who accepted it. Luckily for me I still had my reserve dollars on me and I used that to pay for my lodging at the Ellenhaus hostel. This nice hostel, or rather Guesthouse has a lot of double and single rooms, with a single, 'Anne Frank' kind of room costing only 10000Pesos, but this time I had kitchen privileges 😄.



My room at Ellenhuas. Nice and cosy!

My activities over the next few days included reading a lot, hanging around in the well-stocked supermarcados and searching, in vain, for a pub or bar that had affordable beers on tap. I wasn't to disheartened by the last failed quest, as a litre of red wine in the supermarcado cost me only 1300Pesos which is roughly R26, a bargain no matter where you go. As an added benefit, the 'Carbenet Sauvignon' wine was even drinkable! My biggest personal victory thus far on my trip happened when I successfully explained to an utter non-english Pharmacist that I wanted to buy data for my cellphone. It took some time (20-30 minutes) and a lot of improvised hand gestures, but at the end of the day I got what I needed, and the cellphone credits actually worked

I'm on a boat!

Thursday, 26th of March

I board the the Navimag ferry Eden at 21h00 unsure of what to expect of this 150 passenger cargo ferry that will take me and about 90 other travelers and 10 truck drivers (their trucks being transported to distant Puerto Montt) I locate my 3 man cabin on the 6th deck of the passenger ferry and meet my Australian roommate, whose parents both emigrated from Chile during the dictator years. Dawid is a great guy who has also traveled extensively and worked with renowned NGO, Amnesty International. We talked until 2am before finally settling in for the night.

Friday, 27th of March

After breakfast at 08h30 go out to the stern (Learned the sailor's lingo whilst at sea!) of the boat to see us cast off

Puerto Montt sunrise

Some of my fellow travelers

Rocking the sunrise pose

I went inside to write a bit on my travel journal and I meet an American girl called Ashley. She is a feverent environmentalist and health conscience person (a bit to much as I would later learn) and what what I would describe as 'an american fraternity girl accent'. We got a new roommate, a large Kiwi called Ben, and the 3 of us have a nap just after lunch. After my nap I went down to the dining area and get invited by an Irish couple and Ashley to join them in for a card game called 'switch', they are also kind enough to share their rum and vodka with me while we play. Alcohol products are actually prohibited, because apparently some years ago teenagers drank, as they usually do, too much and decided the best possible activity they could do at that moment would be to start a full fledged barbeque in their cabin. This led to the ban on drink, which the navimag company is apparently quite lax on enforcing as one of their officers, the paramedic to be precise, got roaringly drunk and physically semi assaulted a bolivian passenger for being, well, bolivian (Bolivia and Chile had a war some 120 years ago or something) He was semi confined/detained to the boat's detention centre for the duration of the journey. I played cards with them until well after dinner, but my considerable patience was slowly being eroded by the American's constant health and environmental preaches... Lines which would include

"You know you're poisoning yourself right?" She would rethorically ask as I was drinking my coffee from a styrofoam cup. "Really?" I would respond, taking another big sip of my beverage. She shared this tad-bit of information with me 25minutes before her hourly smoke break.

Just before midnight she advised/accused the irish couple (who just 30 minutes ago were informed that they "were her favourite couple" and that "she had stopped believing in couples before she met them" and were her personal heroes) of using to many plastic cups. I made a joke about the cups being sure to be recycled, I got the cold eyes. The man, Darren then made the mistake of of saying there were thousands of cups on board and the crew would feel hurt if they werent all used accordingly. She went on to say that you should only use ONE plastic cup for the entire duration of the journey and that their children won't one day be able to visit  Pantigonia, see dolphins, hug penguins etc., because of their youthful misgivings about the environment.. It is at this stage that I left the converstaion and went to bed.

Saturday, 28th of March

After the morning breakfeast I watched American Sniper, which was ok but not as good as I thought it would be. The meals on the ship are really well prepared and I heard many a passenger complain that that their hard earned kilojoule-burn achived from the previous days' hiking in the Tierre del fuego region is being ruined by the ships steady and ample supply of food. Most of the days I spent on the ship the activities I did can be described as eating, sleeping getting to know other passengers, walking the bow of the ship, walking back from the bow of the ship and just as you contemplated a second journey to the stern to check up on the cows you'd get involved and/or invited to a card game (around dinner time) and spend the rest of the evening at that table. The card games played would be switch or one of two versions of shithead or arsehole. It so happened (inevitability) that I got caught up in one of these games shortly after dinner with a Brit and his dad, my roommate Dawid and an Indian fellow called Mishbah. We played the South African version of shithead well into the night with yours truely dominating the playing field.

By midday the ship had reached the open ocean and although the boat's crew manager said that 4-6m waves were not nearly as bad as it could be, a lot of the passengers disagreed, if not vocally then by being absent from the dinner table and the next morning's breakfeast, having failed dismally at keeping the previous meals 'below deck'

Sunday, 29th of March

Durning the night none of us three could've slept more than 3hs. The boat's incessant rocking had rendered it impossible to lie on your your sides. You had to either lay on your stomach in the starfish pose, with your arms and legs spread wide for stability, or on your back with arms and legs similarly spaced. At about 6am, Ben's huge backpack fell from his top bunk and onto the floor, in the process knocking over my cup of water onto it. When Dawid, who awoke bewildered and unhinged from the thunderous crash, felt the dampness on his rucksack from my spilt cup, he shot up and shoted in his delirium that the boat was sinking, the boat was sinking! It took both me and big Ben to calm him down, afterwards we jokingly went to bed.

The last night a couple of us gathered, including Ben, myself, Darren and Carla, Carlos (the Bolivian who got assaulted by the medico) and two other swiss guys, to play a final night of cards while we aimed to finish all of the remaining smuggled alcohol, which wasn't much by Irish, NZ and South African standards, but it was hearty all the same. Being quite the ruckas bunch, the jokes soon turned inappropriate, but the jokes' hilarity was dwarfed in comparison to having to explain the jokes to an english-impared Carlos using pictionary techniques and body language! 

Puerto Natales

I stood up bright and early on the 25th, ate the last of my Quaker oats gleefully and left to catch my bus at 08:30. The countryside was once again barren. It's quite eerie seeing so much flat landscape, well watered flat landscape unworked and unfarmed, but I quickly remembered that these plains must be snow-covered for at least half a year.

I located an additional 50Pesos in the shorts I was wearing and not wanting any useless Argentine pesos in Chile I proceeded to treat myself to a mango juice and two Argintine speciality dobble decker cookies. Pitty, I could have used my newfound riches to buy myself 1 night's worth of cutlery back in El Calafate. The border crossing went by quicker than I expected and I arrived in Puerto Natales shortly after lunch time.

I made my way to the sleeping lamb hostel - which came highly recomended by several sources. Upon arrival I enquired as to the availabilty of dormitory rooms. I was informed that there were none available, but seeing as there was some sort of mix up with a booking - if I was willing to settle for a double room, luxury, ensuite room (usually $80) they were willing tio set me up in it for the dormitory price of $22. I would be sharing the room with an Irish girl who had a similar run of good fortune, as is the habit of the Irish. I already liked Chile way more than Argintina.

That evening I proceeded to get quite merry over a few beers with an British bloke and when I retired I noticed that the room was abandoned. I vaguely remembered that she informed us that she was going to meet up with an Argintine park ranger with whom she thought she shared a mutual attraction. When I woke up at 07:30 and noticed that I was still by myself, I concluded that the attraction must have been very mutual. When she returned half an hour later jokingly enquired as to what could possibly make her give up her $80 a night room that she got for near a quater of the price? I thanked her none the less for granting me the room and letting me sleep like a king.

Tonight at 20:00 I get on the ferry for Puerto Montt. Tis a 4 night, 3 day trip. We set off early tomorrow morning at 06:00, so we are allowed to sleep on the ship tonight.

Special edition #1

For my first special edition blog post - here is the route I traveled since leaving Buenos Aires southwards!

The total distance traveled is just under 3500km of which roundabout 55hrs was spent on a bus

El Calafte

Two quick remarks before I set off with my usual rant -

1 - I wish to congratulate the Proteas on their excellent world cup effort, I stayed up until the wee hours of the morning on cricinfo to follow each and every single ball. I wish I could have seen it first hand!

2 - Jy weet jy begin nou rerig die huis mis as jy opgewonde raak om n swart man in die straat sien!

I got up at 06:30 yesterday and started my day with a good old bowl of oats, bought my ferry ticket, packed my bags and bid El Chalten farewell as I got on the bus to El Calafate. It was a 3 hour bus - most of which I spent sleeping. I sat in the front of the bus once again, so the views of all the nothing was spectacular!

Apon arrival I purchased a ticket to Puerto Natales on Wednesday, thinking that this lovely little town's sights would entertain me for a day. I made my way to the closest hostel, which charged me 174 Pesos per night... WITHOUT breakfast! You also have to put down a 50 Peso (R75) deposit to obtain cutlery so you can eat the meal you made for yourself in their sparsely furnished kitchen, which boatst a total of 6 gas plates but no oven or microwave oven. What a rip. I immediately felt hostile towards these people and only booked one night. I went in search of another, cheaper hostel. It quickly became appartent that El Calafate's entire economic framework, welfare initiatives, pensions and civic services are paid for by humble travelers such as myself. The next hostel I enquired at cost 190 Pesos, no breakfast, and the one after that 290 PESOS!? As I was making a retreat Pierre Spies would have been proud of I heard the girl calling after me that breakfast was included.

So it turns out I have been luckey with my first choice of accomodation. Begrudgingly I paid for another night's randsom. After my exploration I went to the supermarket and bought myself some food and a liter bottle beer. After finishing the bottle life seemed a lot better - I didnt feel cheated anymore and the throbbing in my left knee had subsided, tis truely a miricle potion!

I stayed up until 3am local time following the proteas' semi final against New Zeeland, even reading the live feed gave me the chills.

El Chalten phodieeees

El Chalten#2

I appologize once again for being MIA for the past couple of days. Once again it was completely not my fault.

The whole of southern Pantagonia experienced a total internet blackout of sorts, leaving me with my sorry excuse for a left knee to hobble around this small town in search of some form of distraction. It wasn't easy... El Chalten is hiking town through and through - so for someone, in this case me, who couldn't hike, let alone reach the end of the street without a cane and who couldn't spend hours exploring the vast ocean that is the internet, my life became boredom. I would spend the mornings until 10am in the hostel and when cabin fever drove me out I would lend a hiking stick from the friendly owner and hobble into town. I would start my day at a cafe and order a coffee while I 'tracked' my expences, which is a complex problem if you have none.. So I would venture into every supermarket and buy budget food such as pasta, tomatoes and oranges so that I can write down those expences later. I went to the doctor one morning to try and establish what the hell is going on around my kneecap, to my delight he told me that all of my ligaments are in place and that no bones are broken. I just need to rest and keep using a walking stick while my muscles recover from its tantrum. This piece of consolidation cost me R500. 

In the evenings I would make myself some pasta and improve my spanish with the help of a spanish-english dictionary present at the hostel. In my limited experience of this spanish continent you'll get by a lot better in the first few weeks if 

1. You're a pictionary champion.

2. Can use illustrative and humourous hand and body signals.

3. You have winning, friendly and warm smile.

4. Focus on 'complimenting' and 'thankful' spanish first i.e. "You have a nice shop" "You're town is very pretty" "Thank you, you are very friendly" people here I've found are 4 times as eager to understand and teach you once you've dished out a compliment or two.

5. Most importantly make it known that you are a spanish noob but display an zealous urge to learn.

These will serve you much more than a 3 or 6 month course in the language.

Tomorrow I will be moving along further south to El Calafate where I'll spend a night or two depending on the sights available to the crippled population. From ther I hope to make my way to Porto Natales and catch a 3 day ferry to Porto Montt in Chille. El Chalten is really really beautiful, even if you cannot walk to the even better sights surrounding this small Pantagonian town. Every day That I walked/limped out of the hostel I did it with a smile and a light heart.

El Chalten

I woke up at 7am on Wednesday morning and immediately checked the news to see if today was going to be an okay or great day. As it turns out, the Proteas had smashed the Sirilankans in the ICC WC quater final - today was going to be a good day 😄. As I was eating a celebratory bowl of corn flakes. The hostel manager, Mattias, informed me that there were no beds available for tonight at his hostel and that I would have to move out or move on. I didn't see the point in moving into or to a less cosy hostel so I opted for the the 1261km, 22h bus drive to El Chalten. Once again the trip was not as tedious as I thought it would be. The on board movies were all in english, a fully charged ipod and I could thoroughly contemplate my next step - which at this stage would be to take a 3day ferry from porto natales in the very south of Chille to porto montt, which is a little more to the north in Chille. 

Here you can see 2 helpful bus passengers getting out to help free some strange long-necked sheep from a fence

El Chalten sits on the fork of a river and at the base of the Andes mountain range. It is quite cold all the down here, and I have to wear three layers of clothing at this stage. I have some time to kill until next friday when my ship is set to sail. Im sure Ill manage! The place Im staying at currently is the cheapest place I been to thus far. 100 pesos a night, but breakfeast is not included, so Ill resort to good old oats porridge in the mean time!

El Bolson

A couple of things that disappear from your life when you are in Argentina: spices of any kind - even black pepper is hard to come by, feta cheese and baked beans.

I came into the 'hippie town', El Bolson yesterday at half past 4 from Bariloche. En route I sat next to a lady whose shape must have inspired and quite possibly led to the mathematical derivation of a sphere's volume. The hostel's manager was kind enough to come and pick me up from the bus station, a service they provide free of charge. The hostel, la casa del viajero, has a very real tranquil feel to it. There are only 4 dormitory beds, 1 double, 1 'private' double and a separate apartment that can sleep 2 people. All in all enough space to sleep 10 people. The domitory beds and the regular double are all packed in the loft of the main building, not unlike the refugio I slept in 2 nights ago, and the sections are separated by linens. Despite this Russian brothel sleeping arrangement, this is the first hostel I really got to know the people staying with me and they are all very friendly and welcoming as is its manager Mathias, who speaks fluent english. 

Tonight we all agreed to have a lekker braai together, which will probably be headed by yours truly. At the moment Im currently waiting for the carneceria to open again, the whole of el bolson comes to a standstill between 13h30 and 17h00 for their mid day nap also known famously as siesta.

See below the sleeping arrangements

Phodiesss

Here are some photos from the top of the mountain!

The Climb

Readers

Let me relay to you the events of the last couple of days.

On the evening of my skilift mini-adventure I found myself in the Bachmann microbrewery at 18:34 at happy hour. I was about half way through my second draft when I was joined by a British expat who worked in Kenya for 30 years as a structual engineer. He and his daughter had been doing, at least to my recollection, every imaginable hike in the south of South America. They suggested I do a 3 day 'non strenuous hike' near Bariloche called Cerro Catedral. In retrospect I should have payed closer attention to possible signs that would have exposed this entity as a prophet of doom - shrouded cowl, rotten teeth, barcode tattoos, cloven hooves etc. I blame the sweet sweet taste of the beer I was drinking on distracting me from these possible signs.

The next day I made my arrangements, packed my hiking bag and set off to Cathedral village, the starting point of the trek. It was a 4h trek, 3 if you walked fast and didn't stop a lot for the scenery. It started out pretty relaxed. The route was inclined but not a lot and I made swift progress, confident that I was going to brush this off as a 2h30min walk. I stopped for my first rest just after an hour and continued onward. And upward... Over the next hour I had to stop 3 times as the track got steeper and steeper all the time. As I approached my 2h mark I asked a fellow hiker walking in the opposite direction how far it was still to the night stop. He said it was more or less another hour, but that the last stretch was STEEP, bending his elbow in a 45degree manner to drive his point home. Indeed, for the next hour I cannot recall a time when my legs weren't bent in a stair climbing fasion in my torturous trek to the finish. This time it was 5min climb, 5min rest. As I finally (limped/crawed) reached the top I checked myself into the overnight stop - a stone hut with 30 or so mattresses laid out chrismas bed style, 2 levels on top of each other. It looked like the sleeping arrangement for a WWII concentration camp. I couldn't help but notice that I was hopelessly out of my depth when I gazed upon my fellow hikers, all of whom didn't in the least bit seemed fatigued or sore after the day's climb. They all had cliché hiking gear such as fibre glass walking sticks, small gas burners, polar-fleece everything and those sun glasses that you associate with Tour de France cyclists. The scenery up here however was amazing and almost worth the dislocated kneecaps. I decided to take some photos, only to realise that I lost my camera enroute to the top... I must have left it at one of the spots I stopped to rest at... 

The next morning I turned around in my tracks and headed back down the mountain, not in the least bit ashamed in throwing in the towel. The next day, by all accounts, would be steeper, longer and harder than the first day. I also had a faint hope that I might find my camera somewhere along the track at the spots that I stopped the prevoius day. It wasn't to be and I'll have to manage with my phone and tablet in the meanwhile.

Bariloche

The supposed "22h" bus ride ended up being more like an 25h bus ride in the end. I departed from Buenos Aires' Retiro bus station - an enormous departure station for both trains and busses leaving the city, with the bus station boasting more than a 150 platforms and at least 25 bus companies to take you wherever you wish. My bus departed at 15:30 and arrived in Bariloche just before 16:30 the following day. I sat in the very front at the top of the bus next to another guy, despite the fact that there where only 12 people sitting at the top of the bus for the entire duration of the journey. I soon made my way an empy row and settled in.

The ride went by a lot quicker than I thought it would. I awoke to a landscape very similar to the Namabian landscape between Keetmanshoop and Mariental. Very flat and deviod of multicellular life forms. At about 14h00 we entered the lakes district and for 2h30 I was tormented by a continuous feeling of "Any moment now, I'll see the town!" When I arrived I took a taxi to the local HI hostel. Unlike its Buenos Aires counterpart, this one is completely filled with spanish speaking folk, instead of youthful, interpid, internatinal travelers. It makes you feel inferior and left out when all of them are speaking fancy-pancy spanish while you keep to your book in the corner!

Today I went to Campanario and took a ski lift to the top of the hill/mountain. it is not snowing at the moment, but it's still pretty chilly. The view from up top is amazing and I'll see if I can post y'all some photos tomorrow. Bariloche has quite a few micro breweries and Im currently missing happy hour (from 6pm-8pm, 50Pesos for x2 drafts) typing up this blog for you! That's  where I'll be heading shortly.

Relapse

I landed back in Buenos Aires without incident at about 18h00. Quite coincidentally I met my old travel companion Daniel on the Colonia express ferry terminal in Urugauy. Small world I guess! On the boat he said that he was planning to stay in a different hostel than last time so I followed him to a youth hostel intenational - a hostel franchise across the whole world. Enroute we decided to exchange money on the black market. You do this because the rate you get at banks and authorized exchanges are roughly 8pesos per dollar whereas on the black market you get more than 12.. More than a 50% increase. We followed a guy who promised us a rate of 12.5, he took us to the main man who even had a money counting mashine! Business is good for Argintine money exchangers it would seem...

When we arrived at the hostel I somehow managed to aquire a 4 bed dormitory all to myself and even without booking. I would really recommend this place! It's called hostel suites palermo. Three stories, communual kitchen, wifi and frosted corn flakes for breakfast included!

At this moment I am currently planning and getting my bearings together for the 22h bus drive to Bariloche farther south in Argentina