Beaches & the four seasons (not Vivaldi)…

Caught the ferry from BA to La Colonia, Uruguay. Despite Uruguay being an unplanned destination we are conscious of time and only planned a whistle stop tour of its beaches along the coast up to the Brazillian border.

Uruguay is a bit of a question mark. It´s hard to place its identity. Was a bit of a mixed bag – from the quaintness of European influenced towns to the rugged natural beauty of more traditional way of life. It´s not set up for backpackers & independent traveling. Not much info on the internet (hard to find places to stay). Tourist info is at best crap & most instances non existent. Not much written in the usual travel books. Still happy to have visited.

La Colonia is a beautiful old town right on the beach front. Unsurprisingly its an old Portuguese colonial town complete with cobbled streets, great buildings with cool cafes, bars & restaurants. An interesting place with a great vibe. Unfortunately we only stayed one night. Could have stayed longer. The pizzas are really cheap (3 quid) and really nice! Not sure of what to expect in Uruguay – La Colonia set high expectations for the rest of the country.

The next stop was La Paloma – which my parents reliably informed us means ´´the pigeon´´ in Spanish. As we are in March, the off season officially started. It’s a dusty, relaxed beach side town. Not much to do apart from sit on the beach – was a bit of a ghost town. Coupled with the weather was a bit hit & miss, it proved to be rather dull. The main redeeming feature was the hostel we stayed at. Really cool beach side place with a funky bar & fortunately with an older crowd. We are a bit fed up of pretentious young twenty somethings, thinking they are the coolest people on earth having discovered Bob Marley, hammocks and independence for the first time… OK, I am getting old. I admit it!

To satisfy our thirst for a more adventurous & interesting place we quickly moved onto ´´la piece de la resistance´´ of Uruguay beaches – Punto Del Diablo. Once again informed by my parents of its meaning – the devils port. Due to our rushed departure from La Paloma, we didn´t have time to book any accommodation, deciding to walk around and find something when we arrived. (This also meant I can haggle face to face and get cheaper rates than booking in on the internet – once a northerner, always a northerner!). We arrived to a torrential downpour. It lasted all day. We walked around and got absolutely soaked. On the plus side we found a really nice, cheap hostel – but had to stay the first night in a large, charmless place full of the aforementioned young crowd. Felt like a spare tit in an orgy. Happy to leave that place.

Punto del Diablo as a town is awesome. The weather cheered up the next day and could spend some quality beach time. It’s a small fishing village, but a completely different feel the La Colonia. It doesn´t have cobbled streets or old buildings, just dust roads, a variety of beach huts & rented accommodation & cool bars & restauruants. Again as its off season it not too crowded and the beached were picture postcard perfect. We could have stayed longer. But Brazil was calling…

Interestingly, as we were packing to leave I looked out on the beach & ocean and saw first hand an twister (tornado) from start to finish. It only lasted a couple of minutes, wasn’t massive and too far our at sea to hit the town. Funny how these things happen. If I hadn’t stopped packing at that moment, sat on the bed, or had the window open I would have missed it. Took a video of it, so will attach it when get it on a disc.

In Patagonia....and the capital

…OK I did manage to catch enough food for a couple of days. 2nd kidney in tact!

The lake district was awesome. We learned from our “ugly & bad” experience and tried to avoid large cities & towns. The smaller villages have far more heart & soul – seems like the real Argentina (whether that’s true or not I don’t know, we just prefer it!)

We booked our travel to Junin de los Andes for this reason. A really small town in the northern most part of Patagonia. It was shit. So much for our theory. We stayed for one night and moved onto San Martin de los Andes first thing in the morning. The only redeeming feature of Junin was a steak “completo” sandwhich which stood about 4 inches tall & had beef (as you´d expect) tomato, avocado, lettuce, 2 eggs and Christ knows what else. That, was good…
Junin was further soured on the bus journey to San Martin. A couple of youths (from the same group of friends by the way) decided to have a fight. Well, one punched the other on his way off the bus - whilst the other was asleep - then ran off… cheap shot.

Anyway San Martin was fantastic, if not a tad surreal. It´s a skiing town, and is based on European resorts. You have to pinch yourself walking around as you could be in Switzerland. Was very cool though. Lots of log cabins and chalets everywhere. This is summer and sunny, is nestled on the side of a clear blue lake, complete with a beach. In short it was very difficult to feel anything but comfortable here.
This is serious fishing country (advertising itself as the best trout fishing in the world). For fly fishing. I don’t fly fish. But, after some heated haggling, managed to get someone to take us spinning on a lake. It was the most beautiful place I have ever fished. A 7 kilometer mirror lake surrounded on three sides by hills / mountains and the other by a grassy plane with wild horses grazing. This poor chap rowed us around this lake all day long. Think Magali´s beginners luck truly ran out. She caught nothing in a lake that had more fish than water. Saying that, I only caught 2 of the slippery little buggers. In my defense one was a giant brown trout! It did feel wrong killing him, gutting him and filleting him at the side of the lake. Until I ate him. He tasted gooooooood. Easily the best trout I´ve ever tasted. Made fresh fried trout fillets with him the first day, then soup / bisque with his head and the rest on his dismembered body the next. The hostel owner (a chef previously) was even impressed - the rest of the travelers ate pot noodles and tuna sandwiches.


The furthest south we made it was El Bolson. A hippy town at the southern end of the lake district. A sleepy little town, with not much happening. Ended up staying far longer than anticipated. Not quite sure why. Guess was just really comfortable. Met two couples from California who were really cool. (If anyone wants to go white water rafting in southern America you can go for free!). Highlights were a free BBQ (parilla) on the second night, a 30 km hike (got lost in the forest, flipped a coin & took a wrong turn) and bike ride to Lake Peugo.

We would have liked to have made it down to the very south of Argentina; more of Patagonia & the glaciers, but time was against us. For the first time we are thinking its running out for us. F&ck it, at least we are here!

We grabbed a bus to Buenos Aires, where we are now. Busses are great here. Provided you don´t sit next to a snorer. Amofa, all is forgiven. Have to say first impressions were not good, but it’s a grower. You´ve got to get to know it. We´ve been here 9 days now. The first 5 in a region called Palermo and 4 in San Telmo.

Palermo is a newer part of town, one that has seen regeneration and is not an up & coming area, but more up & come. It´s safe and fun with lots of bars & restaurants. San Telmo is more the real Beunos Aires. As such more interesting. The architecture is a real mix of Italian, Spanish & French. The result is an identity all to itself, but it works. You can walk down a road and see all three style next to each other – presumably where rich settlers from the three European countries had designed their houses and lived next to one another. Next to San Telmo is La Boca (the working class area) and is truly bonkers. It´s where Boca Junior play. Is rough as nuts but really vibrant, arty and passionate. The team play in blue & yellow - as the founder of the club decided to choose the team colours by the next ship to sail into the harbour. It happened to be Swedish.

The highlights of Beunos Aires are food & football. I have been a pig in poo. The beef is the best in Argentina & possibly the world (sorry France, you have a rival). It´s truly something else – you have to try it yourself. Bife de Chorizo is the most popular cut – I am not sure which part of the animal it is. Think the rump. Size matters! Usually comes anywhere 8-10 inches long and 2 – 4 inches thick. (Sorry ladies, still talking about the meat!) We haven´t eaten anything else since we´ve been here. Magali is a fed up of it now. I however am going to buy a farm when I get back…

Caught a live football match – River Plate vs Banfield. All the guide books say its really rough and not to take anything with you. Ergo didn´t take a camara. Idiot! It was the bet match I´ve been to. A carnival atmosphere. The whole stadium were River Plate supporters. The top tier was the “fanaticals”. They have what appears to be a full blown brass band. They lead the singing & jumping. Once they start, two seconds later the whole stadium follows. Quite a sight, 50,000 singing & jumping in unison. The songs aren´t angry or aggressive, seemed much more upbeat. Not that I had a clue what they were saying. They all fling their arms about as well. The motion is this: bend your arm at the elbow and nearly touch your neck. Then extend your arm out fully and at the last minute fling your wrist & fingers forward, as though trying to flick something sticky off your hand. Now imagine everyone you can see around you doing this repeatedly with both hands singing at the top of their lungs and you are somewhere near where I was. If it wasn´t for the fact they were smiling (or River Pate were winning) I may have assumed I was in a mental institute…

Apologies if this has been a long entry. It’s the last night in B.A. Have watched England loose by a point to Ireland in the 6 nations (coincidentally introduced 2 Mexicans and 2 Peruvians to their first rugby match), been to our last parilla for a meal and am currently polishing off my 6th beer. Life is tough.

Have a change of plan for the remainder of our travels. Are now visiting Uruguay. Then following the coast up to Rio. Basically beach hopping in the vain attempt to remove our perma T-Shirt tans before we land back home… Hope it works as, to be honest, I look ridiculous naked at the moment.

The good, the great & the ugly

Currently in the heart of the wine region, in a place called Mendoza. We kicked off our northern Argentinean tour about 500miles north of here, in Salta ´the good´.

Fun place where we had our first Argentinean steak listening to a regional folk dance & music, fabulous! Following the potato overload we had in Peru and Chile, the atkins diet is a relief. Hit the local bar and club scene and finished in style at the local kebab joint, some things will just never change!

Headed south to a small town called Cafayate (one of my personal favorites with huge rural charm about 200K from Salta) ´the great´.

The place is nestled next to the Andes mountains, surrounded by vineyards and only accessible via dirt roads. Street side cafes, shaded by stunning trees and vines surround the main ´plaza´bathing in 30degree heat, felt like we´d taken a wrong turning and were back in the south of France. Did some fun bike rides there and ended up climbing in the ´devil´s throat´ no less, photos to come!

We´d heard Cordoba was a must see en route to Mendoza so we headed there next, ´the ugly´. OK, so it´s a little strong a word to describe what is Argentine´s old jesuit city, home to no less than 7 universities and oldest cathedral but nonetheless quite disappointing. The one redeeming feature was a music festival an hour out of town in Cosquin with a 100 cows being barbecued to Argentinean rock.

A hop and dance, 10 hours overnight in a bus and we´re in Mendoza! but let me tell you about the Argentinean buses, absolute luxury, full on reclinable and semi beds seats, food, booze, film, toilet, complete with the air con overload! we do get very excited about the smallest luxuries now, you have to forgive us.

We leave tonight for the northern part of Patagonia, the Lakes District! Argentina´s renowned sports fishing centre, let´s hope Jon manages to catch next weeks meals, otherwise he´ll have to sell his second kidney:-)

Cycling on the moon with Marge and Homer

Lauca national park was a real treat. Through our hostel’s manager’s friend of a friend of a friend type of thing, we managed to meet a cheap tour guide who gave us a great run for our money. We climbed up to over 4,500 meters above sea level to discover some stunning flora and fauna, snow dusted volcanoes, remote hotsprings and sparkling lakes. Feared the sodding ´soroche´(altitude sickness) would come back with a vengeance but NO! what a relief…

Back down on the coast we spent a couple of days relaxing in a French-Chilean owned hostel. Got to speak the linguo a bit in this fab little oasis. The film ´Birdcage´ sprang to mind when watching Jon sleeping in the pinkest room ever seen, pink walls, shower, towels, soaps…

You won’t be surprised to read that neither of us was looking forward to the next long 12 hour bus ride to St Pedro de Atacama, still in Northern Chile. The town is near the north end of the Atacama desert and on route to Argentina. Bus journey was pure luxury compared to our previous experiences - glad we are doing it this way round!

St Pedro de Acatama is a strange delight of luxury mod coms, hip hostels in the middle of this barmy, deserted landscape. A great town to kick back, where siestas last from 2 to 5 and the sky is constantly blue. Took a couple of mountain bikes out to the Death valley and Moon valleys. The later, so they say!, is as close to what the surface of the moon looks like… no animals, no fauna, nothing, not a fly, just mystical rolling sand dunes and stones. Two massive alsatians decided to join us on the trip, probably looked at us and thought, ummmm fresh meat for dinner...they won´t last the journey... we named them Marge and Homer!
Also woke up at silly morning hour (4am!!) to see the El Tatio Geysers(smoky holes in the ground puffing sulphur) – greatest moment about that was gazing at the star-ridden desert sky.

So tomorrow we head off outta here baby, enough of the desert, bring on the lush vineyards of Salta and Cafayate in Argentina´s North west, time to indulge in life´s great pleasure, drinking wine.

Heh there travellers.....

Hello - just a quick note to say I have managed to get myself onto your blog ;-) Thanks for the link Magali.

The weather here is utterly miserable - we had gusts of 90 miles yesterday with torrential rain!! Not great when you are traveling on the motorway. All calm and blue skies this morning though.

Looking forward to hearing about your next ventures.

Love to both, Suki xx

Downpours to Desert...

Hi Paul - great to hear from you! Gald you had a good Christmas. Give Louis a kiss from us both & tell him he´ll have some more presents when we get back.

Puno as a town was a grower. Discovered a few really great places to eat and decent catering holes. Went on a tour of Lake Titicaca, visiting varouis islands before spending a night in a locals house on Isla Anamanti.

One of the islands visited was Uros, a flating island. Apparently made out of 3 meters of overlapping reeds. Communities aparently have lived there for centuries – and still do today, apparently. The young chap explaining the history and way of life was blatently wearing a Chelsea shirt under his alapaca pnoncho, had a solar panel next to his hut and his mobile phone went off during his talk. Makes you doubt the authenticity of their simple, unaltered way of life…

The night on Anamanti was fun, if not a tad rustic. Stayed with a family of 7. Thankfully had our own room. They are all rediculously short. The door frames were low enough for Magali to hit her head on. Which she did. She isn´t used to having to duck. I simply walked on my knees to avoid facial injury. We had three meals there, all consisted of soup with 12 different types of potato. All cooked on clay pots on wood fire mark 5.

Walked to the top of the island for views. Found the coolest footall pitch in the world. Perched right on the edge of the island, and even had a small stand. For those in the know it resembled Monoco´s ground. But on a much smaller scale. You just didn´t want to be a ball boy. We found out the match was a top of the table clash. Which also meant it was a relagation battle - as there are only two teams. The reds won. The blues were rubbish.

Decided to head to Chile, so headed south to Tacna. Actually had an untroubled bus journey - hooray! Didn´t like the town, so jumped staight in a cab to Arica just over the border. Which is where we are now. Its hot! Got too used to the afternoon torrential rain downpours in Peru.

Can immediately tell its a more affluent country. Are quite relieved at the vibrancy of this small town. Has the feel of an oasis. Standing in town and turning left is the sea, but right is desert. Looking forward to a couple of days on the beach before heading to Lauca Nacional Park.

alright bro,

Hope you both are having a great time down in south ameria. I don't know much about that part of the world but tequila, cigars and seem to feature in films. I'm sure there's a lot more on offer and look forward it hearing it and seeing the photos.

Any thoughts about the wedding yet - when / where? Really looking forward to it.

We are all fine and had a great Christmas in France and Louis misses you both a lot.

Speak to you soon,

Big G, Chantale & Louis.

Mountain hikes, Wonders of the world & possibly the worst bus journey in the world...

Hola!

We’re in Puno, right on Lake Titicaca, near the Peru / Bolivian border. Is a strange place, looks large from a distance, but small when you’re in it. Weird…

Left Lima for Cuzco on the 27th Dec. The previously mentioned 22 hrs bus journey didn’t turn out as planned. It took 34 hrs. Broke down: 5 hours to repair (stopped every 10 miles to top up water / oil before deciding to finally call a mechanic). Had an accident with a taxi: 2 hours inc. heated argument between bus / taxi driver & subsequent visit to police station for statements. Took unannounced detour to Arequipa: 5 hours – right pain in arse. Bus ran out of food: hungry. Developed altitude sickness: pounding headache as if head in vice. Arriving in comfy bed in middle of the night: timeless.

Despite above, Cuzco is fantastic. Picturesque Spanish colonial town. Only downside is 100% geared up for tourism. Is a vacuum which sucks money from tourists. As result decided not to go on Inca trail to Machu Picchu. Hired mountain bikes & did own thing visiting Inca ruins. 35 km ride from Cuzco to Pisac. First 5k uphill, took 1.5 hours. Needed a third lung as air so thin. Last 30k downhill took 30 mins – bliss!

Took train to Aguas Calientes, then bus to Machu Picchu. Didn’t quite know what to expect as it really is just a bunch of ruins, and have seen ruins before, right? It’s amazing. Fluked going on a gorgeous day as well. Decided to head up to the “sun gate”, a sedate 30 min walk. Took wrong turn and ended up hiking up to the top of the mountain – a 1.5 hr hike up a near vertical slope. Absolute killer. Needed that third lung again. Who the bloody hell build the path? Magali got vertigo. I looked like I’d jumped in a swimming pool. But made it! Spoilt with amazing panoramic views of Machu & Wayna Picchu.

Spent New Years in a small bar with a Peruvian band in Cuzco. Was hilarious. Had a real ensemble of instruments: electric / acoustic guitar, various panpipes, ukuleles etc. (anyone remember The Fast Show?). Kept on trying to play old school rock anthems. Didn’t quite sound right – but bloody entertaining! Drank two jugs of pisco sour. Only needed the one. Had craving for bacon so went to an Irish pub for a greasy spoon on New Years Day. Had the ultimate “breakfast in a bap”. It was about 12 inches high. Couldn’t work out why they didn’t just put the ingredients on a plate separately. But did the job anyway.

Half way through devouring the said sandwich, two woman came into the pub. They were dressed provocatively, had more cosmetic surgery than Michael Jackson and were about 50. In response to the entrance of the trollops, I asked Magali “What to you call an old sheep? To which she responded, “A goat?”. Had been a long night.

Going island hopping on Lake Titicaca & staying overnight with a family on Isla Amantani. Should be an experience…