The Unofficial World Shithead Championship of South America

With only a few hours of game time left H is currently leading by 132 games to 125.

The final score, and the Champion, will be revealed in due course.....

Well That's That Then!

South America 2006. Ten weeks.

Brazil
Argentina (three times)
Uruguay
Bolivia
Chile

Before we came away to South America I wasn't that fussed about coming here. I would have preferred to have gone back to Asia. Now I wouldn't change it for the world, and that's down to H who really wanted to come here. Once we got the residency visa and set a date to make the move it seemed like the perfect time to do it.

The trip has been fantastic, but very tiring. The longest we spent in any one place was eight days, but for the most part it was a few days here or there, with mammoth bus trips either side. It's been a completely different experience than Asia. For a start you have to learn the language to get by, and Bolivia was the hardest, and most exhausting place I have ever travelled around. And this continent is HUGE, and I probably underestimated it's size before I came away. There have been a lot of highs with very few lows and we have met some great people along the way. Special thanks go to the following for makig the trip so much fun along the way.....

Rob
Sylvia
Jay
Chloe
Zoe
Colm
Shane
Oisin
Connor
Frainc
Patricia
Inigo
Jimmy
Jess
Charlie
Erica
Lizzie

Mind you, we've met a few odd'uns, most notably "Wolf" or "Wolfie" who's heart was in San Remo even though he had never been there. He didn't look like a wolf, but we never got to know his real name.

We've seen some amazing things and experienced many cultures but I don't think I could answer the question "So what was the best bit?".

Actually, maybe I could.

Anything to do with football haha.

And seeing Carnaval in in Rio.

And seeing the Iguaçu waterfalls.

And going on a four day 4WD trip through south west Bolivia with five girls.

Oh, and bribing the Bolivian Police Force. Now that was fun!

Santiago, Chile

I am sure you will all be relieved to hear that the final bus ride of this trip was a success. We drove through the Andes and as you can imagine the views were something else.











































Mind you, some of the roads were a little too close to the edge for my liking, and I am sure the driver went as close to the edge as possible, just to shake us all up a bit.











































The only faff was the border crossing which seemed to take ages. We were all lined up as our bags were scanned, and some people were called over to explain what was in theirs. It was like being in detention.

Anyway, we arrived in Santiago on the 27th without any dramas. We are staying with Irish Frainc (who we met in Rio and then on Ilha Grande) and his Belgian girlfriend, Patricia. They are expats living here so we were invited to come and stay with them in their lovely serviced-apartment. It was great just being able to sit on a sofa! No sooner had we arrived than we were out on the beer. Obviously living with locals has it's benefits. They know all the best restaurants and watering holes. We went on a little tour and had a great first night here. We went to an Irish bar (which is the first we have been to in South America) and a bar called 'One Nine One', which is owned by an English expat friend of Frainc's. It was a bit wierd drinking a pint again.

We met Frainc for lunch on Friday and then had a bit of a look around. This involved going to a park called Cerro Santa Lucia and enjoying the smog filled views of the city. We also went to a museum, the best bit of which was leaving it. H would disagree.

We went back to 'One Nine One on Friday night, this time to eat. H and I had the Ostrich which was a first for the both of us, and very tasty. I had deep fried ice cream for desert and definitely wouldn't have it again. I'm a huge ice cream fan, and have been treated to some amazing stuff in Argentina (mainly thanks to the country's Italian heritage), but as far as I am concerned, it should be kept well away from the deep fat frier. We went to a part of town called Bella Vista afterwards for some cocktails.

Saturday was a lazy day. I woke up at 10am and put the TV on, expecting to watch a Saturday afternoon Premiership game on Fox Sports. Unfortunately there wasnt any on as the Copa Libertadores is on at the moment(which is a football tournament involving most of the teams in South America). I did manage to catch the news that Chelski won the Premiership again, but more worring than that, the news that Rooney could be out of the World Cup. What is it about metatarsals and World Cups?

After a tasty Irish breakfast Frainc and Patricia took us to fancy arts and crafts place with lots of animals locked up in very small cages. H bought a few bits. I sat down on any chair I could find and waited.

So tonight (30th) we fly to Sydney, at 11.15pm local time, so that's about six hours from now. We are due to land in Sydney on Tuesday May 2nd at 7.30am. Monday May 1st will not exist for us. I had been looking forward to having a blank entry in my diary for that day, which would have been the first in thirteen years, but I no longer own a diary! We have all just been out for a tasty steak, the last one that H and I will have in South America. We had a kilo and a half of meat between the four of us and it didn't disappoint.

Anyway, this whole Australia thing has been in the pipeline since November 2003 and the time has nearly come for us to fufill our dream of moving there (and for us to both have been around the world). After an fantastic trip around South America H and I are both very excited aout moving to Sydney. It will be nice being able to settle down in one place for a bit, and to be honest, I am pretty knackered now.

Paragliding

On Monday (24th) we went paragliding. Tick!. Now I thought this involved running off the side of a hill, and then flying around (whilst attached to an instructor of course). What I didn´t realise was that it actually involved running off of the very top of a mountain. And as the for the "World´s Most Dangerous Road" being in Bolivia, well the road up this particular mountain had to be a contender. It was no wider than the 4x4 we were in and I had already built myself into a bit of a state before I´d even got to the top.

The thing is, as I have got older I have noticed more and more that I have a real love/hate relationship with heights. I used to want to jump off anywhere where I was up high, and experience that feeling of, well, falling. Now I just want to be back down on good old terra-firma as soon as I get up anywhere high, after I have admired the views and taken as many photos as possible. I have been lucky enought to bungy jump, skydive and prat around on the three rides on top of the Statosphere in Las Vegas (including that ridiculously frightening see-saw over the edge) as my relationship with vertigo has developed over the years, and now it was time to go paragliding (especially as we never made it hand-gliding in Rio).

As you can see from the pictures below, we really were on the top of a mountain. We were 1600m or so up.

























































I was crapping it!















H wasn´t.....she was only too keen to go.















H was the first to go. And as you can see we did have to run off of the top..











































It was a great experience, and the views were like nothing else, but to be honest I was glad when we landed, even though I knew I was as safe as could be expected, given the fact we were floating around under a parachute thousands of feet off the ground. The wierdest feeling was definitely when you caught a thermal and you shot up, which is not a sensation you expect to feel. And the instructors beeping altimeter did little to allay the fear. It also did wonders to the big lunch I had just eaten.I´d love to do it again though.

Perspective.....! Looking toward Mendoza and Parque General San Martin.















The take-off area is the grey area on the left of this picture.















The Andes.















Parque General San Martin (including the World Cup football stadium). And yes, that´s H in the photo below that, and in the final photo, I am relieved to be back on terra firma!

Horseriding

H and I went horse-riding in the Andes after we had finished the white-water rafting (we had booked to do it on Tuesday but we blagged it onto the afternoon ride so we didn´t have to sit around and wait for the group to finish). Well, they called it horse-riding but I am sure they were big mules. They had a head that looked like a donkey and a body like a horse, although somewhat smaller than you´d normally expect (or maybe it was the other way round...you can judge for yourself in the picture below). Anyway, it was good fun, even though these animals didn´t look to be in the best of health. We were taken along, down and up some very rocky and dusty hills without so much as a crash helmet insight. Although the ride was quite painful, again the scenery was breathtaking. And of course the pictures don´t do it any justice.

























































These poor animals were at the mercy of the two young lads you were taking us out, and who spent most of their time hooning around in a Bonanza stylee. It was often quite unnerving hearing them galloping up behind us, before racing either side of us and covering us in dust. I never got above a gentle trot, and by the end of the ride, with home in site, I had no choice but to trot because the nag just wanted to get home and rest. We returned back to Mendoza with lead arms and very sore thighs.

White-Water Rafting

The white-water rafting on Sunday (23rd) was excellent fun and definitely one of the highlights of our time here. I had never done it before as was very keen to have a go and tick another "extreme" sport off of the list (and especially as I had seen my brother´s video of his trip down the Zambeze). As we are in mid-autumn at the moment the rivers running through the Andes aren´t as high as they can be and because of this the rapids aren´t as dangerous as they can be (they are currently a class II or III, but in the summer they are III and IV - and I think V is the maximum classification). Even though I knew this I was hoping for some good action, and I was glad to be placed at the front of the raft.

The backdrop was sensational as we drifted/rowed/floated down the River Mendoza. The Andes are very impressive and we were lucky enough to do it on a cloudless day so the views of the mountains and the Condors that flew overhead were uninterrupted (and their wingspan is more that ten feet). Most of the rapids were pretty tame and we got a good soaking but I did go overboard on one occasion. It all happened in slow motion, and I seemed to lose my balance and foot hold as the front of the raft went down into this wall of water. I fell over the side, but manged to hang onto the raft. I was then rather unceremoniously hauled back into the raft by the guide. It was FREEZING in that water and a definite shock to the system. It is one thing being splashed by the water, but another to submerged in Andean river water at this time of the year. It has definitely given me a taste for more white-water action though, and hopefully the rapids will be of a higher class when we do it again in the future.

Mendoza, Argentina

The first couple of days here weren´t the best. H and I had food poisoning and it put us on our arse for the best part of 24 hours. We tried to work out where we had got it from. I was the first to get ill and fill the bathroom sinck with vomit, and I thought it was from the raw egg in my Spanish Omelette that I had for lunch on the 19th. It was only when H did the same a few hours later that we thought it must be something different. It had to be from the meal we were given on the Cama bus here, or from some rather dodgy Carne Empanada´s we had got in the local supermarket. Either way, we spent the night of the 19th being very very ill. I had never experienced pain like it. And we were bed-ridden for all of the 20th. We are staying in a hotel called Hotel Petit, cleverly called so because everything is so small. Claustrophobia was setting in.

We made it out of the hotel on Friday (the 21st), but didn´t go too far. We spent some time trying to find a double room in a hostel as it is difficult to meet people in hotels, and the activities they offer aren´t very good, but we didn´t have much luck. We did manage to reserve somewhere though, from the 24th, but only until the 27th. We did find out a lot of information though about the different activities you can do here, and in the Andes, such as wine tours, white-water rafting, paragliding and horseriding.

We still hadn´t fully recovered by the Friday night so it was another evening spent in going stir-crazy, in a tiny bedroom, staring at the TV in the corner of the room. There is only so much Spanish cable you can take. On Saturday (22nd) we felt a lot better and booked ourselves onto three trips over the next few days; white-water rafting, paragliding and horse-riding. Our spirits were on the up even though cabin-fever had meant we had nearly killed each other. We walked to the local park, Parque General San Martin, which is huge. For those gardeners out there it is 420-hectares (is that bigger than acres?). Because it was so big we hopped on a bus and got taken on a tour of the park. Now the thing about Mendoza is that it is on the foot on the Andes, slap bang in the middle of a desert. Because of this thousands of giant sycamores have been introduced on every street to keep the locals cool and out of the sun.

For example, here.....

Here.....















And here.....















Personally I think they have overdone it. Even in the park. When I arrived and looked at a map I was surprised, and somewhat glad to see, that a football stadium is in the center of the park. I was even more excited to read that it was purpose built for the 1978 World Cup. It was sure to be massive, and I was hoping I´d get a glimpse. It was obviously going to be the highlight of the park for me. So we boarded the bus and it wound it´s way through the park to the view point at the back of the park, on top of a hill. Unfortunately the view over Mendoza and the football stadium in the park was blocked by trees!!















But I did mangage to snap this as we came down from the hill in the bus, impressive eh!















There weren´t many trees at the back of the park so the view of the Andes was pretty spectacular.





























We leave for Santiago on Thursday, our last bus ride of the trip but the one I have been most looking forward too...over the Andes. And from there we fly to Sydney on Sunday.....

The 48 hour mission

First of all, I have to apologise for writing like this but I am doing it for my own benefit as much as anyone else´s, because some peasant is running around the fields of Bolivia with my diary...or has burnt it by now to keep themselves warm for another night.

H and I said goodbye to the girls on Monday the 17th and made our way to the bus station in Sucre. It was pretty sad saying goodbye to them as we had all become pretty close, given the fact that we had spent so much time together, and been through so much, over the last 10 days.

From Sucre we got a 3 hour bus ride to Potosi, the worlds highest city. Luckily the trip was in the day time and the mountain roads didn´t seem quite as bad as at night, although we were very high up.

Once in Potosi we bought our bus tickets to Villazòn. We decided to go for the more expènsive Cama option (as opposed to the Semi-Cama we had been taking) as we wanted to reduce the risk of people pooing in the aisles or falling asleep on our laps. The bus didn´t leave Potosi until 8pm so we had to hang around for the best part of four hours.

The bus ride started off ok and for the first few hours I was able to stretch my legs out and after the first couple of stops I was in good spirits as no-one was invading my space. It was only when the bus stopped in the middle on nowhere to pick up randoms that things got bad (and by this I mean the bus actually stops on a dirt track, on the side of some mountain without a village in sight...it seems as if people just wait there in the hope that a bus will pass at two in the morning). Before I knew it I had a baby under my seat, a boy trying to sleep in my foot space and one resting on my head rest. This was fast becoming the second worst bus ride of this trip. I sat it out though and longed for sunrise. Luckily a lot of people got out at one stop so this freed up a few seats for those who hadn´t the inclination (or means, probably) to book one in advance. From what I could work out, the drivers pocketed any money made from picking people up along the way, so it was in their interest to do so.

We got to the border 11 hours or so after leaving Potosi and because the sun hadn´t come up we had to spend some time sitting in the bus station. We didn´t fancy walking to the border in the dark with all our bags, and it was pretty cold.





























The border between Bolivia (Villazòn) and Argentina (La Quiaca).





























After a couple of hours we made our way into Argentina and got a taxi to the bus station in La Quiaca. Having my bag stolen really tainted my view of Bolivia which is a real shame as it was one of the most interesting places we had been on this trip, and most probably the hardest place I have ever travelled around. Luckily I had spent my time there with a great bunch of people. Needless to say I was looking forward to my comforts...the first of which was tarmaced roads.

The next bus to Salta was due to leave in 5 minutes so H and I got our tickets and boarded the bus, safe in the knowledge that this was an Argentinian bus company. The trip to Salta took 8 hours and although ours chairs wouldn´t recline (the levers had been snapped off of our seats) it was bearable. However my legs were beginning to seize up....3 hours, 11 hours and then 8 hours, plus all the waiting around was beginning to take its toll.

I had wanted to spend the night in Salta as it would break up the trip to Mendoza nicely but H suggested we push on to Mendoza, which was another 18 hours away. When we got to Salta there was a Semi-Cama bus leaving in 5 minutes, but if we had got that it would have meant immediately getting on an 18 hour bus trip without a decent stop. We also wanted a Cama bus as we hadn´t done one yet on this trip. Apart from the business class seats, which are hard to find, these are the most luxurious (and not to be confused with the Bolivian equivalent which would be a knackered Semi-Cama, but called Cama because it had two levels...confused yet? Like I said, this is for my retrospective benefit now my diary has gone AWOL). There was one leaving at 6pm, two hours after we arrived, so we bought two tickets. I had also noticed that the Milan / Barcelona Champions League semi-final had just kicked off on a TV by the bar in the bus stop and I was far more interested in watching that than getting on another bus.

So, a much needed litre of beer, sandwich and chips later we boarded our fourth bus in two days, which would take us from Salta to Mendoza. It was great and easily the best one we have been on so far. I even got a decent kip on it - the huge leather seats were fantastic. We arrived in Mendoza at about midday on the Wednesday the 19th, 48 hours after leaving the girls in Sucre. It was a proper mission. We now have 8 or 9 days here before we get a bus over the Andes and into Santiago in Chile, from where we fly to Sydney.

Tarabuco Market

On Sunday 16th we all went to a town called Tarabuco, which is 65km outside of Sucre. It was a famous Sunday market. H and I bought some cushion covers. We don´t own any cushions, let alone any seats to put them on. Because of this it took a while deciding how many we actually needed. The general public consensus was that we needed four.

Sucre and the Bolivian Legal System

On our first full day here H, Jess and I went to the Tourist Police station to report the theft. After a few minutes explaining what happened some guy took us to the other side of town, to the local Police Station, where we had to explain again what had happened. All along the way Jess had helped us wth her Spanish, but this is where she really came into her own.

Now having your bag stolen from you in an English speaking country is one thing, but this is Bolivia!! It was a complete nightmare and very exhausting. In order to make an insurance claim I thought I needed to get a stamp from the police authority to whom I reported the incident. Jess spent the first two hours trying to explain this to a number of different policemen (if you can call them that!) but they didn't seem at all interested. As far as they were concerned the theft happened in Uyuni and it had nothing to do with them. We tried telling them that the insurance company in England would not ask for an investigation to be carried out, especially in Bolivia, and that all I needed was a stamp. One of the guys was particularly unpleasant - a short, fat, greasy Bolivian on a powertrip sat behind his desk in this crappy room. The only thing on the desk was the stamp I needed! At one point, when he left the room I nearly stamped it myself, but that could have involved spending some time in a Bolivian police cell if I´d been caught...or pay a hefty fine. We sat it out.

They were determined not to help me out and after going round and round in circles the inevitable happened. It was time to offer a bribe. We had been told by one guy, who we think was the chief, that there is a lot of corruption in the Bolivian police and that he wasn´t interested in a bribe. Twenty minutes later he was asking for 10 Boliviano's (80p) for a stamp. Of course I was willing to pay. It seemed like he wanted to keep it quiet from the short fat man so we promised to keep quiet. Eventually we got the stamp and left.

As we walked down the road H read the insurance claim form. It turned out that I hadn´t read it properly and we needed a signed police statement. It was time to go back in. I went on my own as the girls had had enough. I walked into the same room as before and the atmosphere was completely different. I don´t know if it was because the girsl werent there (maybe they didn´t like the fact that Jess gave as good as she got) but as soon as I asked for a letter they immediately played ball, so long as I gave them 20 Boliviano´s, which I did. The chief took my passport and gave it to this secretary who began to write down my details. They then ushered me into this other room but I wasn´t going anywhere without the passport. The chief then pretended to run off with it. Tosser!

It was then time to go through again what had got stolen, but because Jess wasn´t there, I had to do so myself in what Spanish I know. It took a good hour and a half but finally I walked away with a signed and stamped police report. During this time all of the police officers we had come across acted like complete idiots, play fighting and trying to play the funeral march on a keyboard that wasn´t plugged in. It was a surreal experience to say the least.

So H and I have now experienced the Bolivian Police Force. It was really hard work and something I hope doesn´t happen again. In hindsight it was an interesting experience but I´d much rather have my day bag back. I suppose I can buy myself a better camera now, but it will be a huge inconvenience trying to get the insurance sorted.

After I left the Police Station I called the travel insurance company. The lines were closed as it was Good Friday. Typical!

It was Charlie´s 23rd Birthday as well so it was time to put what had happened behind us and PARTY! It was what we all needed and we had a cracking night.

H, Erica, Charlie, Lizzie and Jess.














It was raining and a good job I had kept the most ridiculous poncho.














All of us and a lot of wall - Nice one Manuel!














H and the birthday girl.



















Erica, Me and Lizzie.














Jess, Charlie and H.