After climbing the Inca Trail for four days to reach Macchu Picchu we deserved a party.
And what better place to treat ourselves and to numb our aching legs with a cocktail than in the party town of Cusco.
Meeting my Inca Trail buddies at their hotel we wandered through the Inca-wall-lined streets to 'Fallen Angel'....a cocktail-come-wine bar that would sit happily in any modern city in the world. With beautiful art work lining the walls, dim lighting and a cocktail menu to rival that of any West End bar, I was a million miles away from the dusty trail and inca ruins.
This was much more my style.
Sipping our daiquiris and popping the cork off a well deserved bottle of champagne, we savoured appetizers and reminiced over a walk that seemed a world away.
Cusco comes alive at night. From sleeply colonial city reeking of inca history during the day, at night it becomes a party town with touters drawing crowds into nightclubs surrounding the main square. With promises of free drinks we chose one pumping out samba tunes with a live band and plenty of happy locals.
Dancing the night away it was a reward for the work we'd done and the trek we'd accomplished....and a reminder of where we really belong.
Till next time...
Thursday, 31 March 2011
Wednesday, 30 March 2011
The Lost City of the Incas
It was the most challenging thing, both physically and mentally, that I have ever done.
Trekking through the Peruvian Andes for up to 8 hours a day, following the trail of the Incas to arrive at their famous 'lost city' took 4 hard days of one step in front of the other....Up and down mountains we climbed, reaching our campsites by about 5pm and collapsing into the dining tent ready to be served magnificent meals by our chefs and cosying up into our sleeping bags before beginning the days over again. We coped with no showers and filthy drop toilets with no paper....cleaning away the day's sweat with baby wipes and using copious amounts of deodarant to disguise our stink. It was tough...no princesses here.
Starting on day one at the 82km mark I met the new group we would be travelling with. And as soon as I saw them I knew I had found 'my' kind of people. Mainly aussies, they are young and fun and I immediately integrated into their group and felt I had known them forever. Their presence helped me make it - of that I have no doubt.
I took the Inca trail as slowly as I could possibly manage, helped along by two of my new friends, Peter and Kasey, who encouraged and supported me....helping eachother get over the tough bits and taking little stops every now and then to catch our breath, gaze at magnificent views and to smell the roses.
We were also helped along by two awesome peruvian guides who glibly told us they had done this trek well over 300 times. While they didn't even raise a sweat Lewis and Jefferson understood that we did and were kind and supportive the whole way, pointing out interesting wildlife and flora and co-ordinating our team of porters who ran the trail with weights of up to 25kgs strapped to their backs....all our gear, tents and food. If I felt like complaining I only had to look at these amazing men who run the inca trail for a living without even raising a sweat.
Day two was the toughest. Ascending a long steep path for 4 hours we reached the highest point of the trek, appropriately named 'Dead Woman's Pass' at a hight of 4200 meters (13, 779ft) before decending to a valley and then (what comes down must go up...) ascending again to the second pass and reaching our campsite for the night - well over 8 hours after we had started the day. We were fighting altitude sickness and the thin air found that high in the mountains....while I would have been breathless at the best of times, the lack of oxygen made the climb just that little bit tougher.
By the third evening we were desperate for beer. We were almost there and felt that we deserved a reward. Luckily there was a little restaurant at our campsite that evening that sold the stuff....which we mistakenly drank in copious amounts, much to our regret the next day as we woke at 3am in the pouring rain to hike the last 2 hours to macchu picchu. Soggy, exhausted and hungover, Macchu Picchu was a bit of an anti-climax after everything we had been through to get there.
Sullenly clamboring to the sun gate - the famously scenic entry to the ruins - I was exhausted and over it, cursing the incas for building their stupid city in such a remote location. But still I couldn't help but gasp at the site of the ruins lying before me. It is thought that Machu Picchu was built around 1440 as a university and place of worship for incan nobility, however there is eidence that this had been an incan site for much longer than that. With temples, palaces and living quarters as well as evidence of astonomical observatories, it was a facinating place that we wandered around for a couple of hours before heading back gratefully on a bus (thank God for vehicles with wheels to save aching legs) to a restaurant with real coca-cola and hamburgers.
As I bumped along the road back to civilization with a filthy body and a light heart I was more proud of myself for completing this trek than many other accomplishments in my lifetime....
Till next time...
Trekking through the Peruvian Andes for up to 8 hours a day, following the trail of the Incas to arrive at their famous 'lost city' took 4 hard days of one step in front of the other....Up and down mountains we climbed, reaching our campsites by about 5pm and collapsing into the dining tent ready to be served magnificent meals by our chefs and cosying up into our sleeping bags before beginning the days over again. We coped with no showers and filthy drop toilets with no paper....cleaning away the day's sweat with baby wipes and using copious amounts of deodarant to disguise our stink. It was tough...no princesses here.
Starting on day one at the 82km mark I met the new group we would be travelling with. And as soon as I saw them I knew I had found 'my' kind of people. Mainly aussies, they are young and fun and I immediately integrated into their group and felt I had known them forever. Their presence helped me make it - of that I have no doubt.
I took the Inca trail as slowly as I could possibly manage, helped along by two of my new friends, Peter and Kasey, who encouraged and supported me....helping eachother get over the tough bits and taking little stops every now and then to catch our breath, gaze at magnificent views and to smell the roses.
We were also helped along by two awesome peruvian guides who glibly told us they had done this trek well over 300 times. While they didn't even raise a sweat Lewis and Jefferson understood that we did and were kind and supportive the whole way, pointing out interesting wildlife and flora and co-ordinating our team of porters who ran the trail with weights of up to 25kgs strapped to their backs....all our gear, tents and food. If I felt like complaining I only had to look at these amazing men who run the inca trail for a living without even raising a sweat.
Day two was the toughest. Ascending a long steep path for 4 hours we reached the highest point of the trek, appropriately named 'Dead Woman's Pass' at a hight of 4200 meters (13, 779ft) before decending to a valley and then (what comes down must go up...) ascending again to the second pass and reaching our campsite for the night - well over 8 hours after we had started the day. We were fighting altitude sickness and the thin air found that high in the mountains....while I would have been breathless at the best of times, the lack of oxygen made the climb just that little bit tougher.
By the third evening we were desperate for beer. We were almost there and felt that we deserved a reward. Luckily there was a little restaurant at our campsite that evening that sold the stuff....which we mistakenly drank in copious amounts, much to our regret the next day as we woke at 3am in the pouring rain to hike the last 2 hours to macchu picchu. Soggy, exhausted and hungover, Macchu Picchu was a bit of an anti-climax after everything we had been through to get there.
Sullenly clamboring to the sun gate - the famously scenic entry to the ruins - I was exhausted and over it, cursing the incas for building their stupid city in such a remote location. But still I couldn't help but gasp at the site of the ruins lying before me. It is thought that Machu Picchu was built around 1440 as a university and place of worship for incan nobility, however there is eidence that this had been an incan site for much longer than that. With temples, palaces and living quarters as well as evidence of astonomical observatories, it was a facinating place that we wandered around for a couple of hours before heading back gratefully on a bus (thank God for vehicles with wheels to save aching legs) to a restaurant with real coca-cola and hamburgers.
As I bumped along the road back to civilization with a filthy body and a light heart I was more proud of myself for completing this trek than many other accomplishments in my lifetime....
Till next time...
Sunday, 20 March 2011
The ‘Naval’ of the World
At times we are all the centre of our own universe.
The Incas were no different.
With no knowledge of any other world beyond their own they named their most prized and beautiful city the Inca word for ‘naval’ or centre, Qusqo. This eventually become known as Cuzco, a beautifully ancient city that is still known to be the centre of all things Inca and is the main city of the Peruvian Andes.
Wandering through the ancient streets today I gazed at still-standing Inca walls, built against the all too common earthquakes here by the clever method of building on an angle - which must make them stronger as they have survived every masssive earthquake since the 1400s. Amazingly, after one initial earthquake levelled the town in the 1300s the Incas rebuilt the city in the shape of a puma - one of its main gods - with the (still existing) main square as its heart. The borders of the shape can still be seen today.
The most notable buildings in the main square and its outskirts are the churches (all 18 of them in a matter of blocks) - all built in the 16th century when the Spanish invaded and imposed their catholic religion on the bewildered Incas, tearing down temples and palaces and building imposing cathedrals in their place.
While the Incas had no choice but to adopt Catholicism, they refused to completely denounce their own ancient religion of worship to the sun, Mother Earth, and it’s deities - the snake (the underground), the puma (the earth) and the condor (the sky). While obediently building statues of Jesus and the saints, the Incan sculptures secretly placed images of the sun, moon and stars on robes, placed suns behind the saint’s heads and managed to combine the two religions with a minimum of fuss - continuing to worship their own gods while adopting the God of the Spanish Catholics. Even today the Andean people have a sort of mixed religion, making offerings to the mountains and mother earth as well as participating in Christian festivals and masses with religious fervour and devotion.
We wandered through the local markets, wincing at the meat section with its cattle hooves and bullock’s noses, and admiring the fresh fruit and veg straight from the rich soil of the high plateaus in the mountains. As well as visiting a museum dedicated to the history of the Incas, complete with (more) mummies, pottery relics and a lot of information about how this fascinating culture lived their lives.
Cusco is tourist central, one of Peru’s most famous cities, and the starting point for trips to Macchu Picchu. There are modern restaurants of every cuisine possible, sweet little coffee shops, and, of course a thriving Irish pub opposite an English one where an English friend and I stopped for a beer to watch the Irish thrash the English in the rugby.
Tomorrow my search for Inca ruins really kicks off as we head to the Sacred Valley for one night before heading off on our four day trek to Macchu Picchu. After a long briefing tonight about the trek I’m feeling a little nervous. The second day (Tuesday) is supposed to be the hardest with long uphill hikes…but, as we were told tonight, 80% of the trek is about having a positive attitude (tell that to my aching legs...!)
Till after Macchu Picchu...
The Incas were no different.
With no knowledge of any other world beyond their own they named their most prized and beautiful city the Inca word for ‘naval’ or centre, Qusqo. This eventually become known as Cuzco, a beautifully ancient city that is still known to be the centre of all things Inca and is the main city of the Peruvian Andes.
Wandering through the ancient streets today I gazed at still-standing Inca walls, built against the all too common earthquakes here by the clever method of building on an angle - which must make them stronger as they have survived every masssive earthquake since the 1400s. Amazingly, after one initial earthquake levelled the town in the 1300s the Incas rebuilt the city in the shape of a puma - one of its main gods - with the (still existing) main square as its heart. The borders of the shape can still be seen today.
The most notable buildings in the main square and its outskirts are the churches (all 18 of them in a matter of blocks) - all built in the 16th century when the Spanish invaded and imposed their catholic religion on the bewildered Incas, tearing down temples and palaces and building imposing cathedrals in their place.
While the Incas had no choice but to adopt Catholicism, they refused to completely denounce their own ancient religion of worship to the sun, Mother Earth, and it’s deities - the snake (the underground), the puma (the earth) and the condor (the sky). While obediently building statues of Jesus and the saints, the Incan sculptures secretly placed images of the sun, moon and stars on robes, placed suns behind the saint’s heads and managed to combine the two religions with a minimum of fuss - continuing to worship their own gods while adopting the God of the Spanish Catholics. Even today the Andean people have a sort of mixed religion, making offerings to the mountains and mother earth as well as participating in Christian festivals and masses with religious fervour and devotion.
We wandered through the local markets, wincing at the meat section with its cattle hooves and bullock’s noses, and admiring the fresh fruit and veg straight from the rich soil of the high plateaus in the mountains. As well as visiting a museum dedicated to the history of the Incas, complete with (more) mummies, pottery relics and a lot of information about how this fascinating culture lived their lives.
Cusco is tourist central, one of Peru’s most famous cities, and the starting point for trips to Macchu Picchu. There are modern restaurants of every cuisine possible, sweet little coffee shops, and, of course a thriving Irish pub opposite an English one where an English friend and I stopped for a beer to watch the Irish thrash the English in the rugby.
Tomorrow my search for Inca ruins really kicks off as we head to the Sacred Valley for one night before heading off on our four day trek to Macchu Picchu. After a long briefing tonight about the trek I’m feeling a little nervous. The second day (Tuesday) is supposed to be the hardest with long uphill hikes…but, as we were told tonight, 80% of the trek is about having a positive attitude (tell that to my aching legs...!)
Till after Macchu Picchu...
Friday, 18 March 2011
The Flight of the Condor
Dodging donkeys and alpacas has become a normal part of my life for the past two days.
As we have travelled through itty bitty villages and stunningly diverse countryside we have seen everything from vincunas (a type of South American camel - like a llama or alpaca but wild and protected from extinction) to llamas and alpacas grazing by the side of the road....and sometimes venturing ON to the road. If the bus isn't swerving around exotic Peruvian creatures it is swerving around landslides or donkeys - with, or without, a colourful peruvian farmer bouncing along on its back. The locals are friendly, quick with a smile, but also quick to sell some sort of peruvian nick-knack. They are dressed in their traditional costumes, colourful and pretty with matching floral hats, I asked my guide if this was done for the tourists. It is not....I have seen them now walking down the narrow streets of their villages going about their daily chores dressed this way, leading their alpacas and carrying their babies across their shoulders in a colourful fabric sling...I find it charming and hopeful that there is still a culture that clings to its traditions on a daily basis.
While dodging donkeys we have driven through astonishing countryside. Having spent hours driving through the desert as we left Lima and Pisco, we are now deep in the Andes with lush green fields in the valleys framed by rocky, snow capped volcanoes and mountains. Arequipa itself, Peru's third largest city, is surrounded by three volcanoes, one of them, named 'Misty' is considered active...and, although she hasn't erupted since the 1400s the locals are wary...no less with all the natural disasters occuring in the world at the moment. Comforting. Perhaps to apease the mountains, the locals still make offerings of coca leaves (the bitter tasting leaves that are supposed to sort out all manner of ills including alltitude sickness), money and flowers. Thankfully they no longer offer babies...at least the catholic influence of the invading Spanish discouraged that particular practise.
Climbing high into the Andes we visited Culca Canyon - known to be one of the highest canyons in the world and famous for a large family of condors which draw crowds of tourists from all over the world in the early morning light, hoping for a glimpse of one of these magnificent birds. A glimpse is all I got, -while perched on a rock recovering from the hour long hike to the lookout point I saw people pointing down and managed to glimpse a wing before the bird disappeared. I waited for another 40 minutes to see another one - with no luck.
Recovery from my little walk took longer than it should because of one worrying factor that is becoming the bain of my life - alltitude sickness. From the moment I decided to come to Peru I knew that alltitude sickness may be an issue. It's discussed in all the books i've read. My doctor had a long chat with me about it before I left home. My guide speaks of nothing else. First thing every morning my fellow travellers and I compare of our symptoms. It's hard to explain what alltitude sickness feels like - it's almost like you feel drunk - but it's not as much fun. The air feels thin and it can be hard to breath. When we first reached 4000 meters I felt dizzy and breathless. Now, at about 3500 meters and slightly more acclimatised I have a throbbing headache and feel absolutely exhausted - even though all i've done is sat on a bus, gone for a light hike and searched a rocky ravine for condors...oh...and eaten.
I could never say I didn't eat well in Peru. The traditional food here is simple and hearty. Chicken soup is a staple (which makes me feel like I should be curled up in bed nursing a cold) as are potatoes and rice. Together. Not potatoes OR rice. Potatoes AND rice. It's a carb lovers dream. We have eaten alpaca-meat stews and a lot of corn. Fish caught straight from the river and delicious desserts made with local fruits. The only thing we haven't had a chance to try yet is the local delicacy....guinea pig. It's only a matter of time.
Tomorrow brings us two 6 hour bus rides to get us to Cuzco...the reason I am here...the beginning of our discovery of inca ruins and, on Monday, the start of a 4 day hike to Machu Piccu.
Till next time...
As we have travelled through itty bitty villages and stunningly diverse countryside we have seen everything from vincunas (a type of South American camel - like a llama or alpaca but wild and protected from extinction) to llamas and alpacas grazing by the side of the road....and sometimes venturing ON to the road. If the bus isn't swerving around exotic Peruvian creatures it is swerving around landslides or donkeys - with, or without, a colourful peruvian farmer bouncing along on its back. The locals are friendly, quick with a smile, but also quick to sell some sort of peruvian nick-knack. They are dressed in their traditional costumes, colourful and pretty with matching floral hats, I asked my guide if this was done for the tourists. It is not....I have seen them now walking down the narrow streets of their villages going about their daily chores dressed this way, leading their alpacas and carrying their babies across their shoulders in a colourful fabric sling...I find it charming and hopeful that there is still a culture that clings to its traditions on a daily basis.
While dodging donkeys we have driven through astonishing countryside. Having spent hours driving through the desert as we left Lima and Pisco, we are now deep in the Andes with lush green fields in the valleys framed by rocky, snow capped volcanoes and mountains. Arequipa itself, Peru's third largest city, is surrounded by three volcanoes, one of them, named 'Misty' is considered active...and, although she hasn't erupted since the 1400s the locals are wary...no less with all the natural disasters occuring in the world at the moment. Comforting. Perhaps to apease the mountains, the locals still make offerings of coca leaves (the bitter tasting leaves that are supposed to sort out all manner of ills including alltitude sickness), money and flowers. Thankfully they no longer offer babies...at least the catholic influence of the invading Spanish discouraged that particular practise.
Climbing high into the Andes we visited Culca Canyon - known to be one of the highest canyons in the world and famous for a large family of condors which draw crowds of tourists from all over the world in the early morning light, hoping for a glimpse of one of these magnificent birds. A glimpse is all I got, -while perched on a rock recovering from the hour long hike to the lookout point I saw people pointing down and managed to glimpse a wing before the bird disappeared. I waited for another 40 minutes to see another one - with no luck.
Recovery from my little walk took longer than it should because of one worrying factor that is becoming the bain of my life - alltitude sickness. From the moment I decided to come to Peru I knew that alltitude sickness may be an issue. It's discussed in all the books i've read. My doctor had a long chat with me about it before I left home. My guide speaks of nothing else. First thing every morning my fellow travellers and I compare of our symptoms. It's hard to explain what alltitude sickness feels like - it's almost like you feel drunk - but it's not as much fun. The air feels thin and it can be hard to breath. When we first reached 4000 meters I felt dizzy and breathless. Now, at about 3500 meters and slightly more acclimatised I have a throbbing headache and feel absolutely exhausted - even though all i've done is sat on a bus, gone for a light hike and searched a rocky ravine for condors...oh...and eaten.
I could never say I didn't eat well in Peru. The traditional food here is simple and hearty. Chicken soup is a staple (which makes me feel like I should be curled up in bed nursing a cold) as are potatoes and rice. Together. Not potatoes OR rice. Potatoes AND rice. It's a carb lovers dream. We have eaten alpaca-meat stews and a lot of corn. Fish caught straight from the river and delicious desserts made with local fruits. The only thing we haven't had a chance to try yet is the local delicacy....guinea pig. It's only a matter of time.
Tomorrow brings us two 6 hour bus rides to get us to Cuzco...the reason I am here...the beginning of our discovery of inca ruins and, on Monday, the start of a 4 day hike to Machu Piccu.
Till next time...
Wednesday, 16 March 2011
I See Dead People
When it came to studying history at school I remember always being much more facinated with the ancient civilizations than those closer to our own time.
The Egyptians, the Greeks and, of course, the Incas...
All had facinating rituals, societies, spiritualisation and knowledge of our planet which we consider so scientifically ahead of their time - but they probably considered necessary for survival. With all the scientific knowledge we now have in the 21st Century we still wonder about ancient monuments and archeological sites that have survived - the pyramids, stonehenge, the Nazcar lines...and the meanings behind them. Why were they built? and how?
While the Incas are probably the most well known ancient civilisation in South America, made famous by monuments and temples such as Machu Piccu and the 'inca gold' made famous in pirate movies, they were actually the shortest reigning of all the ancient societies here. Peru itself was was once much larger - covering much of what is now Chile, Bolivia and Argentina and was conquered by several 'tribes' over thousands of years - including the Nazcar and the Paracas cultures which preceeded the Incas by over 500 years.
Yesterday we delved deep into the minds of the Nazcar as, while staying in the city that takes their name, Nazca, we visited their cemetry...
There seems to be a theme running through this trip for me which includes lots of bones and mummies. I have visited elaborate cemetries in Paris and Buenos Aires including the graves of the famous, and have seen more than my fair share of bones in the catacombs of Paris and the catacombs beneath the largest cathedral in Lima, Peru.
The Nazcas believed that, in order to enter the next life, you must leave it as you arrived. So they mummified their dead in the fetal position as soon as they passed, dousing the entire body in salt and wrapping it in cotton before popping them into graves in the middle of the desert alongside offerings to the gods of seashells, corn, gold and beautiful pottery.
Fastforward to the 20th century to when graverobbers found the site, opened the graves, took the gold and pottery, threw around some bones, broke some ancient earthen-wear and left the graves and the mummies to the mercy of the sun.
The result? White skulls and bones, cooked and bleached by the sun, that without this invasion, would have been covered in salty, 1500 year old skin. I think I prefer the bones after seeing one mummy that the graverobbers missed now kept safe and shaded in a small museum near the site. The fact that it was hidden from the sun means it is still mummified as the Nazcars indended - skin and all. Creepy as it sounds I found it facinating to learn more about the Nazcar's ideas of spirituality and the afterlife.
Later that night we learned even more about their culture as we visited a planetarium (well, more like an igloo really...a fairly pathetic planaterium) to hear about one of the world's most mysterious archaelogical sites, the Nazca lines. Etched into the desert ground by scraping away the dark rocks to reveal paler ones underneath, stylised drawings of animals, insects and birds are depicted as well as random lines up to 10km long. Who drew them and why can only be guessed at but theories range from alien invasions (which is the theory I subscribe to) to complex astronomological calendars and indications of underground water sources made by the thirsty desert civilisation.
An overnight bus (my last for a while hopefully) has bought us to 'the white city' of Arequipa. Standing at the foot of the (active) El Misti volcano and oozing the best of spanish colonial charm, Arequipa vies with cuzco for the title of Peru's most attractive city and is actually the country's third largest.
In my day of free time I happily whiled away several hours in the Monasterio de Santa Catalina, a peaceful convent built in the 16th century when it was traditional for the second son or daughter of a family to enter the religious service. The Santa Catalina accepted only women from high-class spanish family with each family paying a hefty dowry for her acceptance. But life inside the convent was far from modest - each nun had between one and four servants, many brought rugs, fine china and silk curtains - and they often threw parties.
In between and around swilling beer with friends though, the nuns must have done some heavy praying. One of the nuns here was canonised by the pope in the 80s for the miracles performed through her...and many people come here in pilgramage to her.
As for me...I found the nun's cells and way of life interesting - but most of all I loved the quiet and peaceful feeling of being in this 'city within a city'....
Till next time...
The Egyptians, the Greeks and, of course, the Incas...
All had facinating rituals, societies, spiritualisation and knowledge of our planet which we consider so scientifically ahead of their time - but they probably considered necessary for survival. With all the scientific knowledge we now have in the 21st Century we still wonder about ancient monuments and archeological sites that have survived - the pyramids, stonehenge, the Nazcar lines...and the meanings behind them. Why were they built? and how?
While the Incas are probably the most well known ancient civilisation in South America, made famous by monuments and temples such as Machu Piccu and the 'inca gold' made famous in pirate movies, they were actually the shortest reigning of all the ancient societies here. Peru itself was was once much larger - covering much of what is now Chile, Bolivia and Argentina and was conquered by several 'tribes' over thousands of years - including the Nazcar and the Paracas cultures which preceeded the Incas by over 500 years.
Yesterday we delved deep into the minds of the Nazcar as, while staying in the city that takes their name, Nazca, we visited their cemetry...
There seems to be a theme running through this trip for me which includes lots of bones and mummies. I have visited elaborate cemetries in Paris and Buenos Aires including the graves of the famous, and have seen more than my fair share of bones in the catacombs of Paris and the catacombs beneath the largest cathedral in Lima, Peru.
The Nazcas believed that, in order to enter the next life, you must leave it as you arrived. So they mummified their dead in the fetal position as soon as they passed, dousing the entire body in salt and wrapping it in cotton before popping them into graves in the middle of the desert alongside offerings to the gods of seashells, corn, gold and beautiful pottery.
Fastforward to the 20th century to when graverobbers found the site, opened the graves, took the gold and pottery, threw around some bones, broke some ancient earthen-wear and left the graves and the mummies to the mercy of the sun.
The result? White skulls and bones, cooked and bleached by the sun, that without this invasion, would have been covered in salty, 1500 year old skin. I think I prefer the bones after seeing one mummy that the graverobbers missed now kept safe and shaded in a small museum near the site. The fact that it was hidden from the sun means it is still mummified as the Nazcars indended - skin and all. Creepy as it sounds I found it facinating to learn more about the Nazcar's ideas of spirituality and the afterlife.
Later that night we learned even more about their culture as we visited a planetarium (well, more like an igloo really...a fairly pathetic planaterium) to hear about one of the world's most mysterious archaelogical sites, the Nazca lines. Etched into the desert ground by scraping away the dark rocks to reveal paler ones underneath, stylised drawings of animals, insects and birds are depicted as well as random lines up to 10km long. Who drew them and why can only be guessed at but theories range from alien invasions (which is the theory I subscribe to) to complex astronomological calendars and indications of underground water sources made by the thirsty desert civilisation.
An overnight bus (my last for a while hopefully) has bought us to 'the white city' of Arequipa. Standing at the foot of the (active) El Misti volcano and oozing the best of spanish colonial charm, Arequipa vies with cuzco for the title of Peru's most attractive city and is actually the country's third largest.
In my day of free time I happily whiled away several hours in the Monasterio de Santa Catalina, a peaceful convent built in the 16th century when it was traditional for the second son or daughter of a family to enter the religious service. The Santa Catalina accepted only women from high-class spanish family with each family paying a hefty dowry for her acceptance. But life inside the convent was far from modest - each nun had between one and four servants, many brought rugs, fine china and silk curtains - and they often threw parties.
In between and around swilling beer with friends though, the nuns must have done some heavy praying. One of the nuns here was canonised by the pope in the 80s for the miracles performed through her...and many people come here in pilgramage to her.
As for me...I found the nun's cells and way of life interesting - but most of all I loved the quiet and peaceful feeling of being in this 'city within a city'....
Till next time...
Tuesday, 15 March 2011
Little Dune Buggy
Am I in the Sahara desert or Peru?
Made up of three seperate environments - the coastal, tropical desert, the Andes and the rainforest (on the other side of the mountains) Peru is diverse and interesting.
Over the past few days I've travelled from modern city (Lima) to desert town (Pisco) taking in a pisco distillary (friends might be lucky....I bought the magic potion needed to make the famous pisco sour at home) and desert like sand dunes on which I bounced in a dune buggy - flying down the hills with sand in my hair and taking in the oasis in the middle which, if I were in a movie, thirsty and desperate, i would have been delighted to see - in real life it was slimy and dirty.
Now I am in Nazca - famous for the Nazca lines etched into the earth by ancient civilizations. The best way to see the lines is by a small plane - but I'm giving it a miss thanks to stern warnings by the Australian government suggesting that, due to several fatal crashes in recent years including one in October 2010, i may not survive the experience. With life intact I will be content to visit the planaterium tonight and have the lines explained before catching an overnight bus further south to the next adventure.
I'm getting closer and closer to cuzco and the inca trail and i'm getting nervous. I have a cold that I hope will not encourage the worrying altitude sickness i'm warned to expect from tomorrow morning when we reach the hights of the Andes, and my legs are already nervous about the hike up the trail. But I must do it, I can do it - and I'll be pleased when I do.
I'm also getting close to my flight home to the real world with less than three weeks to go and my emotions are mixed. Of course I'm looking forward to seeing my family and friends again....especially my baby neice who will be the most spoilt child in the world with all the gifts I have for her (sorry - everyone else has to go without!) but I'm also dreading the end of this trip that I have planned and looked forward to for a year and the post-holiday depression that I'm sure will come with the last day.
I will deal with it the only way I know how....by planning my next adventure.
Till next time...
Made up of three seperate environments - the coastal, tropical desert, the Andes and the rainforest (on the other side of the mountains) Peru is diverse and interesting.
Over the past few days I've travelled from modern city (Lima) to desert town (Pisco) taking in a pisco distillary (friends might be lucky....I bought the magic potion needed to make the famous pisco sour at home) and desert like sand dunes on which I bounced in a dune buggy - flying down the hills with sand in my hair and taking in the oasis in the middle which, if I were in a movie, thirsty and desperate, i would have been delighted to see - in real life it was slimy and dirty.
Now I am in Nazca - famous for the Nazca lines etched into the earth by ancient civilizations. The best way to see the lines is by a small plane - but I'm giving it a miss thanks to stern warnings by the Australian government suggesting that, due to several fatal crashes in recent years including one in October 2010, i may not survive the experience. With life intact I will be content to visit the planaterium tonight and have the lines explained before catching an overnight bus further south to the next adventure.
I'm getting closer and closer to cuzco and the inca trail and i'm getting nervous. I have a cold that I hope will not encourage the worrying altitude sickness i'm warned to expect from tomorrow morning when we reach the hights of the Andes, and my legs are already nervous about the hike up the trail. But I must do it, I can do it - and I'll be pleased when I do.
I'm also getting close to my flight home to the real world with less than three weeks to go and my emotions are mixed. Of course I'm looking forward to seeing my family and friends again....especially my baby neice who will be the most spoilt child in the world with all the gifts I have for her (sorry - everyone else has to go without!) but I'm also dreading the end of this trip that I have planned and looked forward to for a year and the post-holiday depression that I'm sure will come with the last day.
I will deal with it the only way I know how....by planning my next adventure.
Till next time...
Sunday, 13 March 2011
In Search of the Incas
I'm in Peru....land of ancient Inca ruins, cowboys and llamas...and, apart from that, i have to admit that I don't know much about it.
I assume this will change as I spend the next three weeks here travelling through the arid countryside to reach the Andes and trekking for four days (good grief) through the mountains (mountains!!!) to reach machu piccu. All I can say is that those crazy inca ruins had better be worth the pain that I'm sure they will cause me!
I am in Pisco now - famous for its drink, the pisco sour - which, of course, I have already sampled and adored. We caught a local bus down from Lima this afternoon having spent the morning wondering around the stunning colonial buildings of the historical centre - a UNESCO protected world heritage site.
Lima surprised me. I don't know what I expected - if I expected anything with my lack of knowledge about peru (you'd have thought i'd read up on a country I will spend 3 weeks in....) but I think I expected a much dirtier, run down place than I found.
Staying in Miraflores, a costal suburb filled with gorgeous restaurants, cafes and shops I felt right at home...and, even when we ventured into the city, I found everything completely spotless...I even saw a cigarette butt litterally being swept up from under someone's feet.
I was told by my Peruvian guide that the most recent mayor has been responsible for cleaning up the city - bulldozing the slums in the city centre and replacing them with lush green parks, sorting out the theiving pickpockets in the area as well as undergoing a massive regeneration project of the old buildings, even going so far as to provide beautiful housing for the people living in the city centre to move into while the renovations were being done. The result is a modern, clean city with beautiful parks, colonial buildings, cathedrals and friendly people. At least this is what the average tourist sees. I am sure that, behind the scenes, there is just as much poverty and desperation as anywhere else in south america.
In fact, even just travelling down to Pisco from Lima, we saw shanty towns scattered along the desert roads and, upon reaching Pisco we saw the devestation that still exists following a horrific earthquake in 2007....still, we are told that the town is slowly but surely being rebuilt...you have to admire the peruvians for their tenacity.
'We' is my new tour group....six of us plus a guide we are Australian, French Canadian (yes, a good opportunity to practice my French) and British. Problem is that everyone is more than a little bit older than me....retired....and not so much into the partying. I expect this may be a quieter section of the trip than expected - which may actually be good news for my liver. I am disappointed of course, but am trying to see it as a chance for a bit more rest and relaxation before I go home and back to work than i would have had if I was partying every night as I have done the past 3 weeks....well past 3 months really!
Tomorrow, tsunamis permitting (Peru has been on high-alert following the Japanese earthquakes...but so far so good and I believe the worst is over - thankfully as I am on the coast here) we will visit some islands to look at amazing wildlife and birds...
Till next time...
I assume this will change as I spend the next three weeks here travelling through the arid countryside to reach the Andes and trekking for four days (good grief) through the mountains (mountains!!!) to reach machu piccu. All I can say is that those crazy inca ruins had better be worth the pain that I'm sure they will cause me!
I am in Pisco now - famous for its drink, the pisco sour - which, of course, I have already sampled and adored. We caught a local bus down from Lima this afternoon having spent the morning wondering around the stunning colonial buildings of the historical centre - a UNESCO protected world heritage site.
Lima surprised me. I don't know what I expected - if I expected anything with my lack of knowledge about peru (you'd have thought i'd read up on a country I will spend 3 weeks in....) but I think I expected a much dirtier, run down place than I found.
Staying in Miraflores, a costal suburb filled with gorgeous restaurants, cafes and shops I felt right at home...and, even when we ventured into the city, I found everything completely spotless...I even saw a cigarette butt litterally being swept up from under someone's feet.
I was told by my Peruvian guide that the most recent mayor has been responsible for cleaning up the city - bulldozing the slums in the city centre and replacing them with lush green parks, sorting out the theiving pickpockets in the area as well as undergoing a massive regeneration project of the old buildings, even going so far as to provide beautiful housing for the people living in the city centre to move into while the renovations were being done. The result is a modern, clean city with beautiful parks, colonial buildings, cathedrals and friendly people. At least this is what the average tourist sees. I am sure that, behind the scenes, there is just as much poverty and desperation as anywhere else in south america.
In fact, even just travelling down to Pisco from Lima, we saw shanty towns scattered along the desert roads and, upon reaching Pisco we saw the devestation that still exists following a horrific earthquake in 2007....still, we are told that the town is slowly but surely being rebuilt...you have to admire the peruvians for their tenacity.
'We' is my new tour group....six of us plus a guide we are Australian, French Canadian (yes, a good opportunity to practice my French) and British. Problem is that everyone is more than a little bit older than me....retired....and not so much into the partying. I expect this may be a quieter section of the trip than expected - which may actually be good news for my liver. I am disappointed of course, but am trying to see it as a chance for a bit more rest and relaxation before I go home and back to work than i would have had if I was partying every night as I have done the past 3 weeks....well past 3 months really!
Tomorrow, tsunamis permitting (Peru has been on high-alert following the Japanese earthquakes...but so far so good and I believe the worst is over - thankfully as I am on the coast here) we will visit some islands to look at amazing wildlife and birds...
Till next time...
Saturday, 12 March 2011
The Real Rio
Now that I have left Rio - and you won't tell me to jump on the next plane home - I feel that it is safe to talk about safety.
Or lack of it.
Dangerous at the best of times I had been warned time and time again how particularly and scarily dangerous Rio is at Carnaval time.
And, as a result, I have never been more paranoid about my own or my friends' safety in my life. As a regular and experienced traveller in all sorts of environments and countries I think i've been pretty lucky when it comes to having never been mugged or robbed. I'm usually pretty relaxed about safety but I always keep my wits about me with a lot of common sense, a little bit of street smart and an awareness of my surroundings that means few surprises.
These things help in Rio - but they don't necessarily make you safe.
My friend was robbed and mugged on the same day. He's an experienced traveller. My roommate had an attempted mugging as she walked down the street. Two teenage boys rode past on their bikes and grabbed her bag. She grabbed it back and screamed and they ran off. It could have been much worse. My friends constantly and blatently had fingers in their back pockets when out at night - just in case they were stupid enough to leave their wallets in there. We saw children darting through the crowd, their little fingers fishing in and out of pockets and handbags.
We heard horror story after horror story...
Travelling alone made it difficult to be as safe as I would have liked. There were times when I was briefly alone at night and quite often I walked alone during the day - but only on busy streets and always with my hand on my bag, my bag accross my shoulders, glancing furtively around me. I always caught a taxi home at night - never a metro on my own. In Europe I wouldn't think twice about catching the train or metro late at night on my own. I stuffed cash down my bra. That way, if I was mugged or robbed at least I would still have cash to get me back to the hotel. I hate wearing those secret money belts - I think they do more harm than good and I have never worn one, but possibly here it would have been a good idea. Though i have heard of people who have been mugged of their wallet and then told to hand over their money belt too....not so secret then. I never took any of my debit or credit cards out with me - and only took as much cash as I needed for the day or for the night. the rest I hid in different places in my backpack left in the hotel room, and the hotel safe. I only took my camera if I really felt i had no other choice - but never to the beach....and I backed up all my photos every time I got back to the hotel. I was prepared to lose my camera - though it would have been a shame - but not to lose my photos. For the first time in my life I used the hotel's safety deposit box for my passport and of course it NEVER left the hotel. My girlfriends and I often felt hastled by the brazillian men when we were out at night - to the point of having to grab one of the boys in our group of friends, pretending that he was our boyfriend to make the locals leave us alone (at one point i think Quin was 'boyfriend' to about 5 of us...his lucky night!)...and, in Rio, even that wasn't enough...still they came and tried to kiss us and dance with us...just a nuisance really - but annoying and exhausting when all you want is to have a good old dance with your friends.
Rio is beautiful. Yes. Maybe one of the most beautiful cities in the world. It is a super fun place and I had an absolute blast - the party of my lifetime. And I would even say that I would like to come back here when it isn't carnaval time to see what the city is like in a 'normal' time frame. But I hated the feeling of helplessness and danger and the paranoia it caused and for that reason there was a part of me that hated the city too. I believe that the police and Brazillian government are trying desperately to clean up the city ready for the upcoming world cup and olympics. A desperate move in a desperate city.
I have an Australian friend who loves Rio so much that he would move here in a second.
He can have it. Personally....I don't see the appeal....
Till next time...
Or lack of it.
Dangerous at the best of times I had been warned time and time again how particularly and scarily dangerous Rio is at Carnaval time.
And, as a result, I have never been more paranoid about my own or my friends' safety in my life. As a regular and experienced traveller in all sorts of environments and countries I think i've been pretty lucky when it comes to having never been mugged or robbed. I'm usually pretty relaxed about safety but I always keep my wits about me with a lot of common sense, a little bit of street smart and an awareness of my surroundings that means few surprises.
These things help in Rio - but they don't necessarily make you safe.
My friend was robbed and mugged on the same day. He's an experienced traveller. My roommate had an attempted mugging as she walked down the street. Two teenage boys rode past on their bikes and grabbed her bag. She grabbed it back and screamed and they ran off. It could have been much worse. My friends constantly and blatently had fingers in their back pockets when out at night - just in case they were stupid enough to leave their wallets in there. We saw children darting through the crowd, their little fingers fishing in and out of pockets and handbags.
We heard horror story after horror story...
Travelling alone made it difficult to be as safe as I would have liked. There were times when I was briefly alone at night and quite often I walked alone during the day - but only on busy streets and always with my hand on my bag, my bag accross my shoulders, glancing furtively around me. I always caught a taxi home at night - never a metro on my own. In Europe I wouldn't think twice about catching the train or metro late at night on my own. I stuffed cash down my bra. That way, if I was mugged or robbed at least I would still have cash to get me back to the hotel. I hate wearing those secret money belts - I think they do more harm than good and I have never worn one, but possibly here it would have been a good idea. Though i have heard of people who have been mugged of their wallet and then told to hand over their money belt too....not so secret then. I never took any of my debit or credit cards out with me - and only took as much cash as I needed for the day or for the night. the rest I hid in different places in my backpack left in the hotel room, and the hotel safe. I only took my camera if I really felt i had no other choice - but never to the beach....and I backed up all my photos every time I got back to the hotel. I was prepared to lose my camera - though it would have been a shame - but not to lose my photos. For the first time in my life I used the hotel's safety deposit box for my passport and of course it NEVER left the hotel. My girlfriends and I often felt hastled by the brazillian men when we were out at night - to the point of having to grab one of the boys in our group of friends, pretending that he was our boyfriend to make the locals leave us alone (at one point i think Quin was 'boyfriend' to about 5 of us...his lucky night!)...and, in Rio, even that wasn't enough...still they came and tried to kiss us and dance with us...just a nuisance really - but annoying and exhausting when all you want is to have a good old dance with your friends.
Rio is beautiful. Yes. Maybe one of the most beautiful cities in the world. It is a super fun place and I had an absolute blast - the party of my lifetime. And I would even say that I would like to come back here when it isn't carnaval time to see what the city is like in a 'normal' time frame. But I hated the feeling of helplessness and danger and the paranoia it caused and for that reason there was a part of me that hated the city too. I believe that the police and Brazillian government are trying desperately to clean up the city ready for the upcoming world cup and olympics. A desperate move in a desperate city.
I have an Australian friend who loves Rio so much that he would move here in a second.
He can have it. Personally....I don't see the appeal....
Till next time...
Thursday, 10 March 2011
Going to a Gay Bar, Gay Bar
Everyone knows how much I love to go out to a good gay bar.
The music is pumping, the crowd is gorgeous and friendly. If you're lucky a hot man will tell you you're beautiful....but they won't try to kiss you....
Clearly there is something seriously camp about Rio's Carnaval and, if you're gay in Rio, or even if you're not, the ultimate place to be on the last night of celebrations is the Scala Gay Ball....
So as soon as I heard that tickets were available i scooped one up and immediately started worrying about what to wear.
Luckily for me Rio at Carnaval time caters for all sorts of dress up opportunities and I shouted myself to a little fairy outfit that I thought was pretty and appropriate. My little group of straight and gay friends wore a combination of feathers and glitter and studded leather and off we went to the nightclub near Lapa where the event was to be held.
The event is televised nationally and entry is via red carpet where, if you're lucky (or not depending on which way you look at it) you might be approached by the crew to be on camera. No thanks. We were content to stand and watch for a while as the outrageous and the beautiful posed and pranced.
The drag queens were everything from the old and tragic to the beautiful and, while i was expecting completely outrageous costumes, most were more on the conservative side with only the odd outfit deserving of a second glance.
Everything from pirates to sailors to avatars were represtented and everyone was happy and smiling, dancing to the house music and samba-ing to the samba band who hit the stage occasionally.
A very gay occasion to round off Carnaval...
After being out all night, only getting home at 6am I am planning to spend my last full day in Rio on Ipanema beach....the only part of town I am yet to explore. I will meet friends there before jumping on a sunset cruise of the harbour...taking in everything Rio has to offer one last time before saying goodbye tomorrow and heading across to Peru....
Till next time....
The music is pumping, the crowd is gorgeous and friendly. If you're lucky a hot man will tell you you're beautiful....but they won't try to kiss you....
Clearly there is something seriously camp about Rio's Carnaval and, if you're gay in Rio, or even if you're not, the ultimate place to be on the last night of celebrations is the Scala Gay Ball....
So as soon as I heard that tickets were available i scooped one up and immediately started worrying about what to wear.
Luckily for me Rio at Carnaval time caters for all sorts of dress up opportunities and I shouted myself to a little fairy outfit that I thought was pretty and appropriate. My little group of straight and gay friends wore a combination of feathers and glitter and studded leather and off we went to the nightclub near Lapa where the event was to be held.
The event is televised nationally and entry is via red carpet where, if you're lucky (or not depending on which way you look at it) you might be approached by the crew to be on camera. No thanks. We were content to stand and watch for a while as the outrageous and the beautiful posed and pranced.
The drag queens were everything from the old and tragic to the beautiful and, while i was expecting completely outrageous costumes, most were more on the conservative side with only the odd outfit deserving of a second glance.
Everything from pirates to sailors to avatars were represtented and everyone was happy and smiling, dancing to the house music and samba-ing to the samba band who hit the stage occasionally.
A very gay occasion to round off Carnaval...
After being out all night, only getting home at 6am I am planning to spend my last full day in Rio on Ipanema beach....the only part of town I am yet to explore. I will meet friends there before jumping on a sunset cruise of the harbour...taking in everything Rio has to offer one last time before saying goodbye tomorrow and heading across to Peru....
Till next time....
City of God
The favelas of Rio are owned by drugs.
While the hard and fast living drug dealers and the 'owner' of the favela live at the top of the hill looking down over their territory of 300 000 people in slum like conditions, their workers are at the bottom with guns, walkie talkies and fireworks, watching every entrant to their territory, ready to warn of trouble from the police or rival gangs. 'Soldiers' patrol the streets ready to be in the front line of fire.
And fire there is. As we toured the favela under the watchful eye of a guide we saw the bullet holes in the walls and passed watchers sitting in prime positions eying us carefully.
It's a dangerous place to be.
The living conditions are horrendous. There are no laws when it comes to building houses...pick a spot, any spot, and build a house. If you want to build on top of someone else, no worries - just buy their roof for 2000 realis and chuck a few bricks on top. Small rooms hold whole families....many of whom have more than 7 children and daughters who start having their own families at 13 years old. It is obvious to see the reason for the landslides which kill thousands each year - house foundations are an afterthought.
The children are smily and friendly. They know three words that we understand - gringo, money and photo. 'So many gringos' they said to our guide as we passed by - but they love that we come. It means that we are interested in where they live and they are proud. They want the world to know that, even through their favelas have terrible reputations they are not all bad people.
'money' they say - holding out dirty palms. But we have been asked not to give them any. The community workers who work in the favelas are trying to teach the kids that if they want money they have to do something for it - so as not to encourage a lifestyle of begging.
'photo, photo' they say as we walk around their streets with our fancy cameras. If they are in our photos, they believe the will be famous...with other gringos seeing them in other countries....fame, to them, is the ultimate 'get out of jail free' card. An easy and quick way to get out of the favela without having to study. If asked what they want to be when they grow up many will say 'singer', 'actor' or...'drug dealer'.
They live hard and fast and die young here. The current owner of the favela is 23. He took over from his predecessor who was shot by police and died at age 21. Even if they are not shot they are living in highly unsanitary conditions though the government is starting to come in now and sort out some of those issues, and NGOs send in health workers and educators.
Most of the residents of the favelas have jobs outside, in the city, as hotel cleaners, construction workers or those annoying people selling touristy umbrellas on the beach. They are trying to make a living to get out of the favela and make something of themselves....but this is the only life they know, and, though it's far from ideal, it is a life with family and friends and a certain amount of protection.
A facinating and eye-opening place to visit...this 'City of God'...
till next time...
While the hard and fast living drug dealers and the 'owner' of the favela live at the top of the hill looking down over their territory of 300 000 people in slum like conditions, their workers are at the bottom with guns, walkie talkies and fireworks, watching every entrant to their territory, ready to warn of trouble from the police or rival gangs. 'Soldiers' patrol the streets ready to be in the front line of fire.
And fire there is. As we toured the favela under the watchful eye of a guide we saw the bullet holes in the walls and passed watchers sitting in prime positions eying us carefully.
It's a dangerous place to be.
The living conditions are horrendous. There are no laws when it comes to building houses...pick a spot, any spot, and build a house. If you want to build on top of someone else, no worries - just buy their roof for 2000 realis and chuck a few bricks on top. Small rooms hold whole families....many of whom have more than 7 children and daughters who start having their own families at 13 years old. It is obvious to see the reason for the landslides which kill thousands each year - house foundations are an afterthought.
The children are smily and friendly. They know three words that we understand - gringo, money and photo. 'So many gringos' they said to our guide as we passed by - but they love that we come. It means that we are interested in where they live and they are proud. They want the world to know that, even through their favelas have terrible reputations they are not all bad people.
'money' they say - holding out dirty palms. But we have been asked not to give them any. The community workers who work in the favelas are trying to teach the kids that if they want money they have to do something for it - so as not to encourage a lifestyle of begging.
'photo, photo' they say as we walk around their streets with our fancy cameras. If they are in our photos, they believe the will be famous...with other gringos seeing them in other countries....fame, to them, is the ultimate 'get out of jail free' card. An easy and quick way to get out of the favela without having to study. If asked what they want to be when they grow up many will say 'singer', 'actor' or...'drug dealer'.
They live hard and fast and die young here. The current owner of the favela is 23. He took over from his predecessor who was shot by police and died at age 21. Even if they are not shot they are living in highly unsanitary conditions though the government is starting to come in now and sort out some of those issues, and NGOs send in health workers and educators.
Most of the residents of the favelas have jobs outside, in the city, as hotel cleaners, construction workers or those annoying people selling touristy umbrellas on the beach. They are trying to make a living to get out of the favela and make something of themselves....but this is the only life they know, and, though it's far from ideal, it is a life with family and friends and a certain amount of protection.
A facinating and eye-opening place to visit...this 'City of God'...
till next time...
Wednesday, 9 March 2011
The Biggest Party in the World
It's billed as the biggest party in the world...
...which is, of course, why i'm here...
While the whole city sambas its way through block street parties in every barrio, the heartbeat of Rio's Carnival is at the sambadrome in the central district....a long thin stadium built specifically for this time of year when the world stops to watch Rio shake its feathered hips
Rio boasts some of the world's best samba schools and each year they compete against eachother in various leagues to win the title. Twelve of the country's top samba schools compete at the sambadrome during Carnival's Sunday and Monday nights. Each with thousands of dancers and a specific theme, the schools take about an hour to samba their way past the crowd, with several breathtaking floats providing the piece de la resistance of each school. Vocalists and drummers repeat the chosen samba song, which more often than not the crowd seems to know as well as their national anthem, singing each song with the same fervour, waving flags and samba-ing in the stadium.
Figuring that Carnival IS the sambadrome I treated myself to visits on both the Sunday and the Monday nights...becoming very comfortable with the concrete steps that became home for 3 or 4 hours each night (more, if you're more hardcore than me and stay till the end...morning...). Each night I watched 3 diffrent samba schools compete, the first from sector 13 for an overview (in other words - i was so far back i could barely see the dots as they moved along the sambadrome) and, on the monday night, from sector 5, from where I could see the action much more clearly.
Luckily for me I was treated to a much more up close and personal look at some of the costumes as my roommates had paid to be a part of the parade with one of the schools on the monday night and received their costumes a few days beforehand. Dressed as peacocks in a 'charles darwin' themed parade, the girls were provied with everything from the brightest of blue boots to headpieces designed to impress. The costumes are fancy but are made to literally last the hour of the parade with bits and feathers falling off along the way. an experience for the girls though and one i wish I had forked out for. However, i was content being official dresser and photographer...
While the sambadrome is the impressive showpiece of the carnival not every rio resident can afford the hefty ticket prices....so the real parties happen just outside the statium, with the bars overflowing and the streets pounded by 'cariocas' dancing to the beat of their own drums....
For me a combination of the heady music, the blingiest of costumes and the imagination of the choreographers and designers combined to provide a specticle with no comparison....
the biggest party in the world...
till next time...
...which is, of course, why i'm here...
While the whole city sambas its way through block street parties in every barrio, the heartbeat of Rio's Carnival is at the sambadrome in the central district....a long thin stadium built specifically for this time of year when the world stops to watch Rio shake its feathered hips
Rio boasts some of the world's best samba schools and each year they compete against eachother in various leagues to win the title. Twelve of the country's top samba schools compete at the sambadrome during Carnival's Sunday and Monday nights. Each with thousands of dancers and a specific theme, the schools take about an hour to samba their way past the crowd, with several breathtaking floats providing the piece de la resistance of each school. Vocalists and drummers repeat the chosen samba song, which more often than not the crowd seems to know as well as their national anthem, singing each song with the same fervour, waving flags and samba-ing in the stadium.
Figuring that Carnival IS the sambadrome I treated myself to visits on both the Sunday and the Monday nights...becoming very comfortable with the concrete steps that became home for 3 or 4 hours each night (more, if you're more hardcore than me and stay till the end...morning...). Each night I watched 3 diffrent samba schools compete, the first from sector 13 for an overview (in other words - i was so far back i could barely see the dots as they moved along the sambadrome) and, on the monday night, from sector 5, from where I could see the action much more clearly.
Luckily for me I was treated to a much more up close and personal look at some of the costumes as my roommates had paid to be a part of the parade with one of the schools on the monday night and received their costumes a few days beforehand. Dressed as peacocks in a 'charles darwin' themed parade, the girls were provied with everything from the brightest of blue boots to headpieces designed to impress. The costumes are fancy but are made to literally last the hour of the parade with bits and feathers falling off along the way. an experience for the girls though and one i wish I had forked out for. However, i was content being official dresser and photographer...
While the sambadrome is the impressive showpiece of the carnival not every rio resident can afford the hefty ticket prices....so the real parties happen just outside the statium, with the bars overflowing and the streets pounded by 'cariocas' dancing to the beat of their own drums....
For me a combination of the heady music, the blingiest of costumes and the imagination of the choreographers and designers combined to provide a specticle with no comparison....
the biggest party in the world...
till next time...
Monday, 7 March 2011
The Girl from Ipenema
Rio is pulsing to the sound of samba.
With the big carnival days, Sunday and Monday, just around the corner and with everyone in the city now on holidays, the streets are filled with people drinking and celebrating.
Meeting up with some of my mates from my last tour on Friday night we decided to check out the biggest and most famous street party of them all - Friday nights in Lapa. Arriving at about midnight we found the party already well underway with thousands of people swarming the streets, dressed in outrageous costumes and swinging to the samba beat. Drinks were plentiful and cheap and the people watching more than a little interesting. Brazillian men have proven to be a slight handful while we're out and about at night. While during the day they dont approach us, at night it seems they have free rein and they are attracted like bees to my Danish friend's beautiful blonde hair, touching her and trying to kiss her she does her best to push them away but, of course, it is tiring....to save her slightly and to get off the crowded streets for a while we went to a club and spent the rest of the night grooving to a mix of brazillian and english house before heading home at 4am....
Rio is made for night time fun. Having recovered from the day before and after spending a disappointing morning at the top of Sugarloaf mountain with views of fog and rain (for a city famous for its sunshine it sure rains a lot...), I gathered the troops and off we went to a street party a little closer to home. In the lead up to carnivale, each 'barrio' holds street parties. Literally a samba band starts playing and the people start coming until a crowd is swaying and bobbing to the beat. With a swing of the hips the crowd then starts following the band as they slowly make their way round the block...a mini parade through the streets, with people watching from high apartment windows and kids dancing with their parents...it's a nice atmosphere and a part of the real rio carnival that is worlds away from the fancy costumes of the sambadrome. A drink or two later we found ourself in ipenema and finished the night with caperinhas and a laugh with friends.
It's a good life...
Till next time...
With the big carnival days, Sunday and Monday, just around the corner and with everyone in the city now on holidays, the streets are filled with people drinking and celebrating.
Meeting up with some of my mates from my last tour on Friday night we decided to check out the biggest and most famous street party of them all - Friday nights in Lapa. Arriving at about midnight we found the party already well underway with thousands of people swarming the streets, dressed in outrageous costumes and swinging to the samba beat. Drinks were plentiful and cheap and the people watching more than a little interesting. Brazillian men have proven to be a slight handful while we're out and about at night. While during the day they dont approach us, at night it seems they have free rein and they are attracted like bees to my Danish friend's beautiful blonde hair, touching her and trying to kiss her she does her best to push them away but, of course, it is tiring....to save her slightly and to get off the crowded streets for a while we went to a club and spent the rest of the night grooving to a mix of brazillian and english house before heading home at 4am....
Rio is made for night time fun. Having recovered from the day before and after spending a disappointing morning at the top of Sugarloaf mountain with views of fog and rain (for a city famous for its sunshine it sure rains a lot...), I gathered the troops and off we went to a street party a little closer to home. In the lead up to carnivale, each 'barrio' holds street parties. Literally a samba band starts playing and the people start coming until a crowd is swaying and bobbing to the beat. With a swing of the hips the crowd then starts following the band as they slowly make their way round the block...a mini parade through the streets, with people watching from high apartment windows and kids dancing with their parents...it's a nice atmosphere and a part of the real rio carnival that is worlds away from the fancy costumes of the sambadrome. A drink or two later we found ourself in ipenema and finished the night with caperinhas and a laugh with friends.
It's a good life...
Till next time...
Friday, 4 March 2011
Copa Copacabana
Rio de Janerio
A city of legend. Songs have been written purely about this place and its reputation for living the good life is world famous.
So here I am. In one of the cities I have most wanted to visit my whole life. And it's fabulous.
Arriving in Rio late-ish last night we checked into our hotel in Copacabana and ducked off for a quick dinner and a fast drinking game to get us in the mood before putting on our gladest backpacker glad rags and hitting the town. First a bar, then a traditional brazillian samba club we salsa-ed the night away to a live band and drank our weight in caperinhas. (again). This was our last night together as a group and as we met this morning, sleepy and hungover, it was a very sad goodbye...
It really is amazing how close you can become to people when you spend 11 full on days with them whilst experiencing incredible places and activities, getting drunk together, eating every meal together, jumping off boats together...
My eyes welled up when I said goodbye to our tour leader, Ursula, a teeny tiny Peruvian, she has been amazing to us and I have enjoyed spending lots of time with her. Some of these guys I will see again - we can't get enough of eachother and have already arranged to meet up tomorrow....but for others I will rely on the miracle that is facebook to keep in touch....
And now, for the next part of my adventure. Rio Carnival! but first....it's time to get some much needed relaxation before all the partying begins again.
Till next time...
A city of legend. Songs have been written purely about this place and its reputation for living the good life is world famous.
So here I am. In one of the cities I have most wanted to visit my whole life. And it's fabulous.
Arriving in Rio late-ish last night we checked into our hotel in Copacabana and ducked off for a quick dinner and a fast drinking game to get us in the mood before putting on our gladest backpacker glad rags and hitting the town. First a bar, then a traditional brazillian samba club we salsa-ed the night away to a live band and drank our weight in caperinhas. (again). This was our last night together as a group and as we met this morning, sleepy and hungover, it was a very sad goodbye...
It really is amazing how close you can become to people when you spend 11 full on days with them whilst experiencing incredible places and activities, getting drunk together, eating every meal together, jumping off boats together...
My eyes welled up when I said goodbye to our tour leader, Ursula, a teeny tiny Peruvian, she has been amazing to us and I have enjoyed spending lots of time with her. Some of these guys I will see again - we can't get enough of eachother and have already arranged to meet up tomorrow....but for others I will rely on the miracle that is facebook to keep in touch....
And now, for the next part of my adventure. Rio Carnival! but first....it's time to get some much needed relaxation before all the partying begins again.
Till next time...
Paraty....sounds like 'party'!
And a party it was....
For three whole days we have played around the waters and the town of Paraty. Just 5 or so hours south of Rio, this is a world heritage listed town complete with all the pretty bits and pieces that go along with the title, quaint little cobbled streets lined by bars and colourful shops, beautiful colonial churches and a picturesque harbour that is the mainstay of the town with colourful fishing boats poised along the jetty ready to take the tourists out for a splash of water fun. Jumping off into the clear blue water we sipped our caparinas in the sea and enjoyed a bbq of steak and salad whilst anchored off shore....it rained. but we were wet anyway and the braver ones amongst us (myself NOT included!) finished off the day by jumping into the water from a rather high looking cliff face....
then there was a perfect day spend at the beach...lazing on the sand with girlfriends - the perfect hangover cure from a night of partying. the beach was surrounded by rainforest and walking tracks (which i did not attempt, content, as I was, to spend the day just lying on the sand with a few dips to cool off in between).
A little drive out of Paraty are the waterfalls which finished our time in this beautiful part of the world. not quite iguazu standards, these were a little more interactive as we gingerly made our way accross the top to then use the rocks as a water slide, slipping and sliding into the deep, cold water using the force of the waterfall itself to slide faster and faster. sounds dangerous? I thought so too! but oh so much fun...!
Paraty lives up to its name when it comes to nightlife. every month there seems to be a festival of some sort and this month it was paraty's birthday - which we were very happy to help celebrate. With a few drinks in a bar in the centre of town on night one we sussed out the festival before venturing into the rain (it rains A LOT! in Paraty) to dance to a brazillian band on stage. We have spent most of our nights at 'Dino's Bar'...THE place to be when it comes to Paraty-ian nightlife. We were treated to a capoeira show...brazillian fighting complete with the most acrobatic movements I've ever seen and a little samba to finish off and we have eaten the most delicious food using a brazillian system that I think I should franchise in Australia...chose your own food, anything you like, from a buffet of delicious looking goodies and then take your plate to be weighed. Your food basically costs whatever it weighs. Perfect for the budgeting backpacker!
Paraty is the kind of place you could spend forever. But the next stop is Rio....and, let's face it, nothing will beat Carnivale!
Till next time...
For three whole days we have played around the waters and the town of Paraty. Just 5 or so hours south of Rio, this is a world heritage listed town complete with all the pretty bits and pieces that go along with the title, quaint little cobbled streets lined by bars and colourful shops, beautiful colonial churches and a picturesque harbour that is the mainstay of the town with colourful fishing boats poised along the jetty ready to take the tourists out for a splash of water fun. Jumping off into the clear blue water we sipped our caparinas in the sea and enjoyed a bbq of steak and salad whilst anchored off shore....it rained. but we were wet anyway and the braver ones amongst us (myself NOT included!) finished off the day by jumping into the water from a rather high looking cliff face....
then there was a perfect day spend at the beach...lazing on the sand with girlfriends - the perfect hangover cure from a night of partying. the beach was surrounded by rainforest and walking tracks (which i did not attempt, content, as I was, to spend the day just lying on the sand with a few dips to cool off in between).
A little drive out of Paraty are the waterfalls which finished our time in this beautiful part of the world. not quite iguazu standards, these were a little more interactive as we gingerly made our way accross the top to then use the rocks as a water slide, slipping and sliding into the deep, cold water using the force of the waterfall itself to slide faster and faster. sounds dangerous? I thought so too! but oh so much fun...!
Paraty lives up to its name when it comes to nightlife. every month there seems to be a festival of some sort and this month it was paraty's birthday - which we were very happy to help celebrate. With a few drinks in a bar in the centre of town on night one we sussed out the festival before venturing into the rain (it rains A LOT! in Paraty) to dance to a brazillian band on stage. We have spent most of our nights at 'Dino's Bar'...THE place to be when it comes to Paraty-ian nightlife. We were treated to a capoeira show...brazillian fighting complete with the most acrobatic movements I've ever seen and a little samba to finish off and we have eaten the most delicious food using a brazillian system that I think I should franchise in Australia...chose your own food, anything you like, from a buffet of delicious looking goodies and then take your plate to be weighed. Your food basically costs whatever it weighs. Perfect for the budgeting backpacker!
Paraty is the kind of place you could spend forever. But the next stop is Rio....and, let's face it, nothing will beat Carnivale!
Till next time...
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