I sit here in the airport in Santiago. Chile.
The trip is over and I am on the second leg of my long journey home - a journey that began at 1.30am this morning with a flight from La Paz to some random town in Chile, before continuing at 9am with a flight to Santiago.
I have spent the day in Chile...but actually I could have been anywhere in the world as I dragged my exhaused and overwhelmed self to an air conditioned mall and sat in a cinema to quietly watch a movie.
I have spent the day reflecting on the last 4 months - the things that I have seen, the people I have met, the places I've been.
So much has happened....
My first stop was one of the most important to me....to Europe where I spent longed for quality time with soulmates in England and Spain.
I have celebrated two of the year's biggest events side-by-side with two of the people I love so much - christmas in Zurich with my oldest friend and New Year's Eve in Barcelona with my 'best' one...
I have soaked myself in the familiarity of my English life....seamlessly and effortlessly re-integrating my life with those of my so-much-loved and missed friends in this country and enjoying every moment of the simply perfect and easy comfort that is my second home.
I have lived my own Parisian dream. Learning to love my favourite city in a whole new way. Becoming friends with the people within it and dousing myself in its language. The friends I met there became a part of my life - from all over the world we shared a love of the city and a desire to learn the language....not to mention a desire to drink all the cocktails we could in little parisian bistros on some of the most fashionable streets in europe. I became a tour guide, gleefully opening my parisian apartment door to my London-based friends as they took the opportunity to visit my life there, giving them a taste of the experiences I was enjoying, alongside the best of french cheese and wine.
Leaving Europe was difficult, as I always knew it would be, but my experiences in Latin America have proven to be some of the most interesting, memorable, difficult and life-affirming as any I have experienced in my life.
Buenos Aires - the beat of the tango and the smell of the coffee....steak cooked to perfection. Argentina led seamlessly into Brazil as I spent time with some of the people that I will remember most from this trip - a crazily fun group of aussies and brits and scandinavians who made the natural wonders of Iguazu Falls and the harbourside Brazilian town of Paraty even more vivid for me as we partied and explored and marvelled together. By the time we hit Rio it seemed only natural to be together and experience the week-long party of our lifetimes in eachother's company....even while I met even more people to love - splitting my time as much as I could with the promise of more and more caparinhas to keep the party flowing....
Peru....at first a break from the craziness that had been the weeks before, it steadily became a facinating country for me....rich in ancient culture, deeply felt religions and beliefs and some of the friendliest of people. More and more I delved deep into the history of the country, visiting ruins, glimpsing condors and llamas and playing in the cities until the creme-de-la-creme, the Inca Trail, was upon me and I struggled and panted and ached and laughed through the most challenging experience of my life with yet more amazing people....people I will never forget as being the ones who were beside me all the way...
The wonders of Peru gave way to a glimpse of the hard beauty that is Bolivia....the perfect full stop to a trip that has been exactly what I was hoping for as a life changing and life challenging experience.
I have been esctatically happy. I have been heartbreakingly lonely. I have cried. I have laughed hysterically. I have been pushed to breaking point and I have survived. I have danced as if my life depended on it. I have sung at the top of my lungs. I have seen some of the most breathtaking wonders of the world. I have reflected. I have made so so many new memories and so many new friends. I have gained a new perspective.
It truly has been the trip of a lifetime. The second such trip that I have been lucky enough to experience.
And now. Home. To my family and friends who allow me leave with as much understanding as they can muster. Who understand that this travelling malarky is a part of who I am. And who will understand when I turn around and start planning the next trip...
Gypsy...
Till next time....
Friday, 1 April 2011
Bolivian Beauty
The shores of Lake Titicaca, and its main Peruvian city, Puno, were our last stop in Peru...and, we farewelled the country that had been host to me for almost 3 weeks, with fervour as we drank in a local pub before stumbling into a kareoke bar to scare the locals with our singing ('Allllllllllllllllways' by Bon Jovie was the favourite) and then back to the pub before stumbling home in the wee hours.
Nursing sore heads the next morning we navigated the tricky Bolivian immigration (two offices on the Peruvian side, walk across the border, two more offices on the Bolivian side plus another check before a ferry crossing that seemed fairly pointless....my passport has never been so flicked through...) and made our way to La Paz.
By this time I had officially joined the other group with whom I had hiked Macchu Picchu. Through the hike and post-hike celebrations we had formed bonds that I could not dream of breaking and, besides, I was hoping for an extra day in La Paz than my original itinerary provided. It seemed seamless to join my friends on their bus and stay in the same hotel....exploring the Bolivian capital of La Paz together.
I was grateful for that extra time when I, unwittingly, fell in love with La Paz.
Gritty. Edgy. Dirty.
Hints of illegality permeate everyday life here - despite the armies of police on every corner. Five seconds here proves that a bribe will save the day and, if you're after a little something under the table, all you have to do is look interested.
In and amongst the dark underworld lies a city boasting great food, cheap drinks and an edgy, fun feel that makes you anticipate the un -anticipatable....you never know what will happen next.
I had saved the majority of my souviner shopping until i reached La Paz, with the knowledge gained from friends who told me that the shopping is cheap and fabulous. They weren't wrong. I now can't close my backpack. And even so I have spent less than US$100 on knick nacks and gifts.
Having spent the day boosting the Bolivian economy significantly, we finished our last day together in a cosy little pub munching on the best pasta I've tasted since I left Europe before saying our sad goodbyes and leaving for the airport.
I dub them the Inca Trail crew....the group of people that I met that very first day of the walk of my life, and with whom I have spent every day since. They are the latest of a long list of amazingly interesting fun people that I have met over the past 4 months - meeting people all over the world FROM all over the world is one of the most significant reasons that I love travelling and this crew was no different.
Once again it is saying goodbye that wrenches the heart...but the memories make the goodbye worthwhile.
Till next time...
Nursing sore heads the next morning we navigated the tricky Bolivian immigration (two offices on the Peruvian side, walk across the border, two more offices on the Bolivian side plus another check before a ferry crossing that seemed fairly pointless....my passport has never been so flicked through...) and made our way to La Paz.
By this time I had officially joined the other group with whom I had hiked Macchu Picchu. Through the hike and post-hike celebrations we had formed bonds that I could not dream of breaking and, besides, I was hoping for an extra day in La Paz than my original itinerary provided. It seemed seamless to join my friends on their bus and stay in the same hotel....exploring the Bolivian capital of La Paz together.
I was grateful for that extra time when I, unwittingly, fell in love with La Paz.
Gritty. Edgy. Dirty.
Hints of illegality permeate everyday life here - despite the armies of police on every corner. Five seconds here proves that a bribe will save the day and, if you're after a little something under the table, all you have to do is look interested.
In and amongst the dark underworld lies a city boasting great food, cheap drinks and an edgy, fun feel that makes you anticipate the un -anticipatable....you never know what will happen next.
I had saved the majority of my souviner shopping until i reached La Paz, with the knowledge gained from friends who told me that the shopping is cheap and fabulous. They weren't wrong. I now can't close my backpack. And even so I have spent less than US$100 on knick nacks and gifts.
Having spent the day boosting the Bolivian economy significantly, we finished our last day together in a cosy little pub munching on the best pasta I've tasted since I left Europe before saying our sad goodbyes and leaving for the airport.
I dub them the Inca Trail crew....the group of people that I met that very first day of the walk of my life, and with whom I have spent every day since. They are the latest of a long list of amazingly interesting fun people that I have met over the past 4 months - meeting people all over the world FROM all over the world is one of the most significant reasons that I love travelling and this crew was no different.
Once again it is saying goodbye that wrenches the heart...but the memories make the goodbye worthwhile.
Till next time...
Titi....Caca
Yes. Funny name isn't it. Lake Titicaca. Ok. You can stop giggling now.
The highest navigable lake in the world (a little fact for the next pub quiz), Lake Titicaca straddles Puru and Bolivia like a giant puma.
In fact, with the imagination that only chewing copious amounts of coca leaves can bring, the andean people believe that the lake is, in fact, in the shape of a puma and thus its name. Titicaca, in the local dialect, means Giant Puma (another usless pub fact).
Continuing on our south bound trail through Peru our travels took us to the banks of this magnificent expanse of water. More like a sea (sometimes you can't see the other side and when you can, more often than not, you're gazing at snowcapped mountains) the lake is dotted with various little islands and penninsulars boasting little fishing villages with locals that, until tourism hit 30 years ago, had not changed the way they lived for thousands of years.
The most facinating of these are the Uros floating islands where we stopped for a little visit. Crazily these islands are made of reeds and do litterally float in the lake. The locals remained untouched for centuries - not even bothered by the incas or the spanish - managing to retain many of their traditions to this day. Living in teeny tiny reed huts, they rebuild their houses every 3 months and their islands every 100 years. While 80 percent of the islands have embraced tourism, and boast high tech solar panels and tvs in their simple abodes, a small group prefer to live the way they always have and, presumably, they go about their business quietly without swarms of camera touting westerners.
The ones that have embraced tourism, however, have done so with fervour, showing us into their homes and demonstrating how they build their islands, catch their fish and bargain with mainlanders in the tourism off-season. Despite the commercialism of it the floating islands are facinating and the people happy and friendly....a good start to our introduction to the people of Titicaca Lake.
I was already reasonably dubious about our next stop...a homestay with a local family on the banks of the lake, staying in simple mud brick homes and lending a hand to help them with their daily chores. The concept sounded wonderful, but after I had chopped meter-long weeds out of my host's vege patch with a sickle for an hour it was beginning to feel more like slave labour. Next my friend and I were piled into hubby's rickety old tinny and cast out into the lake to help him cast his nets. I didn't mind the ride, but my friend, who can't swim, was more than a little nervous.
Apparently the local's favourite sport is volleyball so we gathered down at the beach, with the village's bull and cows as audience and occasional ball boys, to play a game. The local ladies joined in, colourful traditional costumes and all, before herding us all back to our various houses for dinner. We had been asked to bring as gifts some items that the locals find hard to get hold of - living, as they do, in the middle of nowhere....I took rice, sugar and pasta for my family - which may have been a mistake as my 'mumma' excitedly made us cold spagetti with sprinkled peruvian cheese (kind of like an exceptionally salty feta) on top. yum. not. Others had amazing meals. And others made the meals themselves - which may have explained why they were amazing. Still, it was interesting to watch 'mumma' cook dinner over a traditional open flame oven.
The 'mud hut' bit was fine. The beds were smothered with alpaca blankets which were so warm as to be smothering....though I was dubious about their cleanliness... no laundry mats or washing machines here - but my friend and I ate alone and there was very little of the interaction with the family that I had hoped for. The experience overall was what I would call 'interesting' but underwhelming and I was a little disappointed.
Call me a snob. Call me a princess. But let's just say I was glad to leave bright and early the next morning and return to civilization...
Till next time...
The highest navigable lake in the world (a little fact for the next pub quiz), Lake Titicaca straddles Puru and Bolivia like a giant puma.
In fact, with the imagination that only chewing copious amounts of coca leaves can bring, the andean people believe that the lake is, in fact, in the shape of a puma and thus its name. Titicaca, in the local dialect, means Giant Puma (another usless pub fact).
Continuing on our south bound trail through Peru our travels took us to the banks of this magnificent expanse of water. More like a sea (sometimes you can't see the other side and when you can, more often than not, you're gazing at snowcapped mountains) the lake is dotted with various little islands and penninsulars boasting little fishing villages with locals that, until tourism hit 30 years ago, had not changed the way they lived for thousands of years.
The most facinating of these are the Uros floating islands where we stopped for a little visit. Crazily these islands are made of reeds and do litterally float in the lake. The locals remained untouched for centuries - not even bothered by the incas or the spanish - managing to retain many of their traditions to this day. Living in teeny tiny reed huts, they rebuild their houses every 3 months and their islands every 100 years. While 80 percent of the islands have embraced tourism, and boast high tech solar panels and tvs in their simple abodes, a small group prefer to live the way they always have and, presumably, they go about their business quietly without swarms of camera touting westerners.
The ones that have embraced tourism, however, have done so with fervour, showing us into their homes and demonstrating how they build their islands, catch their fish and bargain with mainlanders in the tourism off-season. Despite the commercialism of it the floating islands are facinating and the people happy and friendly....a good start to our introduction to the people of Titicaca Lake.
I was already reasonably dubious about our next stop...a homestay with a local family on the banks of the lake, staying in simple mud brick homes and lending a hand to help them with their daily chores. The concept sounded wonderful, but after I had chopped meter-long weeds out of my host's vege patch with a sickle for an hour it was beginning to feel more like slave labour. Next my friend and I were piled into hubby's rickety old tinny and cast out into the lake to help him cast his nets. I didn't mind the ride, but my friend, who can't swim, was more than a little nervous.
Apparently the local's favourite sport is volleyball so we gathered down at the beach, with the village's bull and cows as audience and occasional ball boys, to play a game. The local ladies joined in, colourful traditional costumes and all, before herding us all back to our various houses for dinner. We had been asked to bring as gifts some items that the locals find hard to get hold of - living, as they do, in the middle of nowhere....I took rice, sugar and pasta for my family - which may have been a mistake as my 'mumma' excitedly made us cold spagetti with sprinkled peruvian cheese (kind of like an exceptionally salty feta) on top. yum. not. Others had amazing meals. And others made the meals themselves - which may have explained why they were amazing. Still, it was interesting to watch 'mumma' cook dinner over a traditional open flame oven.
The 'mud hut' bit was fine. The beds were smothered with alpaca blankets which were so warm as to be smothering....though I was dubious about their cleanliness... no laundry mats or washing machines here - but my friend and I ate alone and there was very little of the interaction with the family that I had hoped for. The experience overall was what I would call 'interesting' but underwhelming and I was a little disappointed.
Call me a snob. Call me a princess. But let's just say I was glad to leave bright and early the next morning and return to civilization...
Till next time...
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