Colonial Cusco - ancient capital of the Incas

Loving Cusco.

It's been two full days here and it seems that there is no end of things to do - museums, bars, restaurants (expensive or otherwise) and a whole host of excursions, including one that people are recommending called Macchu Picchu? Me neither.

We've enrolled in a language school today and had our first lesson. It's going to be an intensive week of one-to-one Spanish so hopefully I'll be able to communicate more than just "Hola", "Gracias" and the odd question asking where the nearest bathroom / hostel / cheap bar is. Congratulated ourselves with an afternoon sitting in the Irish pub overlooking the Plaza de las Armas.

Today has also been the wedding of Will and Kate. I was actually quite surprised to see two channels covering edited highlights of the event over here. I honestly thought that there would be nothing. Apart from that there's been nothing here. Checking facebook reminds me that this is actually a big deal back home, even if it is just an excuse to get pissed!

All aboard

	grockle
	A holidaymaker, or one from out of town. Particularly used in the South of England, generally as a mildly derogatory term. I wish those grockles would all go home, 'cos I can't find anywhere to park the car.

(Source: http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=grockle)

Cusco is great - we have been here less than 24 hours but there's plenty to do here to keep us happy for the next ten days - bars, restaurants, beautiful colonial buildings and sights. We've also got Parita and Tom here which means we have evening entertainment sorted!

However, the journey getting here wasn't so great. The protests in and around Puno and Juliaca meant that we had to stay another day in Puno. No great problem, but did result in us drinking our body weight in beer, pisco sours and wine, washed down with alpaca meat and a side smattering of late night karaoke.

We decided to get the sight-seeing bus from Puno to Cusco. Rather than hurry our way through missing out points of interest along the way, we decided to take it more slowly. We became full-on bone fide grockles for the day. But the grockle bus can be unforgiving when you are used to doing things your own way.

The bus broke down just outside of Puno delaying us for about 45 minutes to an hour. This made things worse as the guide still wanted to get to Cusco at the original time (we left at 7.30am and he was still aiming for a 5.30pm arrival as well as taking in the sights). This meant we were herded on and off the bus like sheep: a brief explanation of whatever statue, monument, church, ruin, 5 minutes to stretch our legs around the prison yard before being ordered back on the bus and bussed on to the next attractions. The process is repeated ("If you are not on the bus in 5 minutes, you can make your own way to Cusco" says guide).

Grockles are generally not a friendly bunch. We spent nearly 9 hours on, next to and around the bus and the only communication were some small pleasantries and half smiles...and everyone looks miserable. No one is really enjoying themselves! Especially the guide who had to explain everything once in Spanish and then repeat the exact same thing again in English to a group who really would prefer to either have a bit more time to look around themselves, or have a cold beer in Cusco.

Okay - so it wasn't all negative. Along the way we did see some pretty amazing stuff (it was just frustrating that we didn't have the comfort of time in order to enjoy it) - llamas, beautiful scenery at La Raya, a good buffet lunch (everyone sat on separate tables) and an enormous Inca temple and town at Raqchi along with a beautiful colonial church.

The one at Andahuaylillas is apparently the South American equivalent of the Sistine Chapel and has the oldest organ in South America (take that fact fans!!) The town of Andahuaylillas was also stunning, a colonial town that if empty would look like it hadn't been touch since the conquistadors were walking the cobbled streets.

The setting changes quite dramatically between Puno and Cusco. In just a few miles you go from the flat altiplano to the lush green Andean valleys. The scenery is quite stunning, and despite being on a Grade A Grockle Bus, I couldn't stop staring out of the large windows.

Hangover day in Puno

Oh dear...

"Please look after this bear. Thank you."

There are better places to spend Easter Sunday than at a Peruvian checkpoint.

Getting into Peru was accompanied with much the same palaver as getting into most countries (with the exception of Chile). There's always the long queue and the customs officials with the disdainful looks. This border crossing had the added delight of the officials telling the gringos to "shut-up" whilst waiting in line.

However, the crossing was not without its cheap thrills - exchanging Bolivianos into Peruvian soles at one of the roadside money-changers was not a complete rip-off! Almost no commission (UK Post office eat your heart out). Unexpected bonus.

We took the gringo bus into Peru, which despite the grumpy and argumentative gringos and being in a hermetically-sealed tourist bubble, is definitely preferably to the buses / mobile toilets of Bolivia.

On first gaze Peru seems a lot like Bolivia - there's the women in the boaters / bowler hats and colourful Andean clothing, the unfinished red brick buildings and the large expanses of uninhabited plateaus and mountains. However, Puno feels a little more "developed" compared with Bolivia. For starters, the food is better and I could swear that the shower water smells slightly chlorinated (does this mean no Peruvian stomach bug? We'll see.) There is also a notable absence of backpackers - rather the more well-to-do tourist who can splash the cash a little more freely exists here.

It's refreshing to enter a new country. Interested to see what Peru has in store - home to Paddington Bear.

Copacabana, Easter and the birthplace of the Incas

Copacabana

The hoards of pilgrims are starting to leave Copacabana. They have walked here all the way from La Paz (a good four-hour bus ride away) and now are heading home, presumably by bus? The beach next to Lake Titicaca and the various squares and parks are starting to resemble the aftermath of the Glastonbury festival - covered in plastic bottles and toilet roll. It's been a good few days here in Copacabana.

All-in-all the Easter period has gone a lot easier than anticipated. We've managed to get transport and accommodation without any problem at all - particularly considering the crowds that have come here to celebrate Easter. Our fear was that everything would be booked up and we'd be joining everyone else camping by the lake!

It was a memorable Good Friday - a swan pedal boat on Lake Titicaca, a lung-bursting climb up the Cerro Calvario beside Copacabana (really felt the altitude at 3,800 metres above sea level) and a round-off with a mournful candle-lit procession of pilgrims through the streets in the evening. They were in their hundreds, some carrying effigies of the Virgin Mary and Jesus, others dressed simply in Klu-Klux-Klan outfits (I'm hoping there's some religious significance there)!

The top of Cerro Calvario was pretty crowded - full of people lighting candles, browsing the various stalls selling model cars and houses (a local good luck tradition) and admiring the scenery. There were also a lot of ladies melting down metal but I have no idea what this meant.

Isla Del Sol
The Sun Island (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Isla_del_sol) is where the Inca god created the Inca people along with the sun and moon and everything else. It's also the setting of some of the most outstanding scenery in South America.

The island has a very laid back, morning Mediterranean feel - the smell of various herbs and grasses, the brown colour of the earth and the cool, dry air. The views of the lake from the island are amazing - the little uninhabited, rocky islands and the endless clear blue water stretching in all directions off into the horizon.

We took a boat to the north part and then walked 8 km south along a well trodden mountain path south passing by Inca ruins of houses, altars and temples. It was hard work, particularly considering the steep slopes and the altitude but definitely worth it. We followed a lady and son herding two alpacas along the way, passing through several checkpoints manned by elderly Bolivian men (with little / no change) who charge you a small fee for using the path.

Goodbye Bolivia - a beautiful end to a country that has had some memorable highlights but also a few lowlights!

PS - A general rule about South America: Just when you think a walk / road is finishing, you've likely got another 2 hours to go (the number of times we have thought - "just over this next hill and then we're there" only to find we are nowhere near our destination, has been countless).

Another quiet one in La Paz

It's another quiet day in La Paz. Getting very used to spending the days wandering the streets and sitting in cafes / bars / restaurants.

Tomorrow it's off to Copacabana. The hotel and transport there is booked and we're ready to go! Gemma has now read up on the Bribery Act 2010 and is currently buying more alpaca scarves. As of writing our total is eight.

Lazying on a sunny afternoon...on a Tuesday

It's a quiet one today. Gemma is currently reading about the new Bribery Act (www.justice.gov.uk/publications/bribery-bill.htm) which is coming into effect (interesting!) and I'm sitting here surfing the net and updating this blog. We're also drinking red wine, it's 4.30 in the afternoon and we're both nursing hangovers. It feels like Buenos Aires again.

However, we're in a bit of a quandary as to what to do next. Do we stay in La Paz and ride out the Easter break here where we've got a room, or move on to Copacabana which is going to be full of pilgrims / holidaying Bolivians? We are also likely to face higher prices and limited room availability.

Tiwanaku
Yesterday we went to the pre-Incan ruins of Tiwanaku (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tiwanaku) which are only about 20 kilometres from Lake Titicaca and are situated on the altiplano. It was interesing, although you have to use your imagination. There's very little above the surface apart from the odd column or stone gate interspersed with huge blocks scattered around the place. It's still an archaeological site, and we were told that only about 10% has been excavated. That 10% has also faced centuries of pillaging from Incas and colonialists.

The World's Most Dangerous Road and other things

The road

Road of death

Bolivia has some strange tourists things to do: one is going down a working mine; the other is mountain biking down the Yungas road (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yungas_Road), otherwise known as the "Road of Death".

According to wikipedia:

Because of the extreme dropoffs of at least 600 meters (1,830 feet), single-lane width – most of the road no wider than 3.2 metres (10 ft) and lack of guard rails, the road is extremely dangerous. Further still, rain, fog and dust can reduce visibility. In many places the road surface is muddy, and can loosen rocks from the road.

As we descended the guide pointed out various places where bus drivers and their passengers, as well as fellow cyclists have met their end. At one time it was apparently one vehicle every two weeks. We were told that one girl made the mistake of wiping her googles mid-descend - enough to result in her going over the precipitous side. We also passed a lorry trying to ascend the road. We saw it at the bottom an hour so later, having turned around.

We did the entire descent of 3,450 metres in about 2 and a half hours (including breaks and a snack / lunch stop) and I can honestly say I don't think I've had to concentrate that hard on a road ever (not even when navigating the traffic around central London). It was intense, which made it very hard to take in the beautiful surroundings - the mountains are lush, green and very different from anything else on the Bolivian altiplano or the Patagonian wilderness. It's like something out of a Kenco ad and contrasts starkly with the black and grey rocks of the Yungas road.

They've recently built a new road, which in any other country would be pretty petrifying. In Bolivia, however, relatively speaking seems perfectly safe. Having done the "Old road" no one thought anything of climbing the steep inclines and crossing the cement bridges over huge gorges in a clapped-out van. In one section, over a particularly high pass, it was the closest you could get to flying whilst still in a car.

But I did it - I descended the world's most dangerous road and survived. And yes, I've even got the ill-fitting t-shirt to prove it.

La Paz

The fly-in into La Paz was spectacular and made a welcome relief from Bolivian buses (see earlier posts). The views of the Andes were stunning and seeing La Paz from the air is an interesting experience - half of the city is on the Altiplano - a huge expanse of flatness that goes off into the distance; whilst the second half falls off the ledge down into deep Andean valleys. The flight never deviated from level with some of the tallest snow-capped mountains.

Flying into La Paz

It was an unexpected highlight made sweeter by the fact that the bus would have been twleve hours through windy mountain roads from Sucre...and the airplane didn't smell.

It's an interesting place. The colonial buildings look more like the ones in Potosi than the ones in Sucre - grey and slightly rundown, rather than brilliant white. There's also a higher percentage of everything, ladies in black hats, Andean clothing that you buy and regret when you get home, restaurants, bars, etc. It's also a little more intense than anywhere else in Bolivia - more beggars lining the streets, tourists and people. The protesting here against the public sector cut-backs also are much bigger and uglier than in Sucre. The riot police are manning the corners in their dozens and firecrackers are going off all hours of the day and night. Even at 6am on a Sunday morning the protesters were out in force. It makes the student riots in the UK look like a tea party.

There's also more of the traditional / slightly morbid that can be found here. I'm talking about the witches market and the dried llama foetuses that line the streets.

Llama fetuses

I've also been laid out for a second time with Bolivian stomach bug no.2. Although slightly kinder than no.1, it still resulted in a day in bed watching knock-off DVDs from the market down the road.

PS - here's a nice little article about the Road of Death with lots of pictures - http://www.ssqq.com/archive/vinlin27b.htm

Bolivia - a fair weather friend

We have arrived in Sucre and things are looking up again.

We've emerged from the trials and tribulations of stinky buses, stomach bugs, chronic migraine, altitude and the mother of all hangovers, humbled but certainly not beaten. It's been a schmorgasboard of crap - I'll happily skip dessert and have an early night, thank you very much.

Feeling well and mentally more positive has resulted in a haircut (Gemma also opted for a one-hour massage). I asked for an "Evo" (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Evo_Morales) which seems to be a popular style amongst Bolivian men (and some ladies as well). She did the best she could, but instead opted for preppy Londoner - which seems to work! Hooray!

Some of these good vibes might be down to Sucre, which quite frankly, is lovely - full of white colonial houses and churches. It's a sweet relief from the beautiful, yet slightly austere, Potosi.

Potosi was fairly hardcore on a number of fronts. Firstly, there was the mine - an unforgettable yet very uncomfortable experience. Then there was the weather (it was freezing at night - 5 blankets just about did it). Finally, there was the night of debauchery which culminated in the mother of all hangovers, and involved drinking with one of the Bolivian miners/guides, dancing in a formal line with the other Bolivian clientèle (boy opposite girl) and singing some Western as well as Bolivian classics (including "Mi corazon") at the top of our lungs. Gemma at one point pretty much refused to have the microphone taken off her. It was messy.

Between the five us we managed to polish of a bottle of red each and a litre bottle of vodka. The bus drive the next day (this one smelt of raw meat - a small relief from the piss and shit of previously) was hideous. We had the "scenic" seats at the front of the bus, which have about as much room as dodgem cars in a fairground.

An early night...wifi, TV, on-suite bathroom and not one, not two, but three beds in the auditorium of the room we've got (all well under budget) has contributed to Sucre being a great place to be. I'm looking forward to tucking into some Chinese food later.

Bolivia - all is forgiven. You're great.

Some things about Bolivia:
1. Adverts are all painted on the side of the buildings. It's quite nice. Couldn't they re-introduce that back home?
2. There are probably more basketball courts than in the USA. But they're all empty. Seems like someone in government was a fan and no one else was.
3. I've now heard Pink Floyd's "Another brick in the wall" four times in four different places. If Mr Waters or Gilmore fancy coming to Bolivia I'm sure they would be warmly received.

The Potosi mines

Visiting the Cerro Rico co-operative mines is a shocking and sad experience.

It´s very, very dark - apart from the light of your headlamp it´s difficult to see much and the smell can be overpowering - sulphur, silica dusk and other noxious chemicals (the presence of asbestos is unconfirmed). In places, I found myself literally squeezed between two solid rocks, gasping for breath in the acrid conditions.

However, the most challenging part of the tour was psychological. The further in you go the more terrifying it becomes and the breathing becomes heavier and heavier.

We walked 250 metres into the Cerro Rico, ducking the various bits of wood and rock, and dodging the thundering metal carts that flew passed (despite being 300 years old, the mine is still in use). The deeper and deeper you go, the more your mind tells you to turn back and the more you start thinking of things you shouldn´t - the Copiapo mining incident last year, for example, as well as the lives and deaths of hundreds and thousands of miners over the years. They are not far from your mind especially when I was lying flat on my front, squeezed between the floor and the ceiling in the darkness.

On the way there, we were taken to a miner´s market, where we could buy presents for the miners - practical things like food and drink as well as dynamite. However, it´s the presence of the 96% alcoholic sugar cane drink which, strangely enough, is the most sobering. It seems to be a work hard / play hard attitude, presumably to try and forget your daily experiences down the mine (we were told that one miner dies from an accident once every two weeks, on average).

The hardships faced by the miners might also explain the fierce sense of humour: they give each other pretty bad nicknames; Juan - our guide - also thought it funny to throw a stick of lit dynamite at my feet. I suppose the sense of humour, along with the alcohol, has to be pretty robust, considering their working conditions.

Having been inside a mine for not more than two hours, inhaled the fumes, clambered and squeezed down small holes, felt the heat (and the altitude - we were well over 4,000 metres high), and serious considered my own mortality, it is still only a glimpse into the life of these miners - some who start working there as young as twelve and will unlikely live to see their fortieth birthday.

It was a Saturday and there was a miner football match going on. Even so, there were still teenagers / young men down there working in conditions that make it difficult for me to complain about working in an office again.

It´s pretty easy to describe my experience. But it is difficult to imagine being in such a situation as to have to go down a mine and work there for the rest of your life.

Memoirs of a travel grouch - Bolivia

It's official - I hate Bolivian travel. It's worse than Ryanair.

There is piss and shit on the floor of most Bolivian buses (yes - you've read that correctly) and the seat lottery is a gamble which you can only lose. There are no winners, only those who lose less badly. The game involves getting on the bus and then hoping that the seat you have been allocated has not got some form of human waste on, around or intrinsically built into it. Give me a screaming baby any day.

What adds to the scent of human excrement present in the stagnant air (as the windows don't open properly) is the blaring Bolivian music which consists of panpipes, accordions and industrial and tin-y beats which reverberates throughout the skull. Put that in your pipe, Michael Palin, and smoke it.

Most of this blog entry has been written whilst travelling on such a bus from Tupiza to Potosi. It was pretty awful.

Here´s the prayer that I composed on this particular bus, but it could be used for any in an similar situation:

Please God give me strength to bear this seven-hour voyage of hell Without ripping the speaker above my head from its housing so that it may utter no sound. Please also allow my senses / synapses to shut down for a least a part of this journey so that the smell does not affect me And please clear my mind of thoughts of whatever I am sitting on, standing on or leaning against. In essence, please deliver me from this place as soon as possible.

Bolivia - the big change

So it´s been a while since anything has been posted here. It´s a shame that the internet is so slow as so much has happened and I can´t seem to upload any photos (I´d be here until Xmas if I tried).

Coming into Bolivia
The last week or so has been pretty travel-intensive. We took the 4x4 route from San Pedro to Uyuni in Bolivia. We saw lot of lakes of different colours (blue, green...and red?), listened to a lot of electro / new romantic songs from the eighties (when was the last time you heard ¨Big in Japan¨ 10 times within a three-day period?) and reached an altitude of 4,900 metres - which at that height does strange things to you, particularly after a can of coke and a glass of wine. The scenery certainly was spectular, sweeping sand dunes, huge rocks and some scattered, ruined industrial outposts.

The salt flat at Uyuni (the salar) was pretty mind-blowing - a place where it´s difficult to work out where the watery salt surface finishes and the sky begins. It´s like a mirror and made for some pretty surreal photos (will try and post sometime. Hmmm...not sure about that). We also ate lunch in a hotel made completely of salt.

The trip was three days in total and took in a one-night stay high up in the plains (at about 4,800m above sea level) in a pretty simple, gringo-filled refugio. Luckily the altitude didn´t have too much effect (apart from post-coca-cola silliness). However, it wasn´t so forgiving for everyone - the toilets were not a pretty site the next morning at 7am.

Uyuni itself was completely different from San Pedro - a complete change from Chile over a relatively short distance by South American standards. The poverty is much more noticeable here and Bolivia definitely seems more hard-done by compared with its Southernly neighbours.

So it was two nights in Uyuni and then off to Tupiza, in the southeast, on one of the scariest bus rides ever. Seven-hours on a local bus covering a distance of less than 200 km, winding up and down, tettering along the tiny mountain roads of the Cordilleras, at every turn only centimetres away from the 100ft sheer drop below. I didn´t want to lean out the window as it would have tipped the bus over the edge! The "in-fright" conversation wasn´t that great either with the elderly Bolivian lady wearing a top hat and no teeth.

Tupiza
Tupiza seems like an okay place, as does our hostel (it has to be at the bargain of 3 pounds per night per person). The town has a laid back feel to it and is set amongst the red cliffs and mountains of the Cordilleras, which are covered in various types of cacti. However, there isn't a huge amount to do here a part from horse-ride and eat pizza. Therefore, our extended stay here (5 nights) has been because I have fallen foul of a Bolivian stomach bug, rather than because of any Tupiza-related charms (which are limited in number).

Let's see what the rest of Bolivia brings.