Steve Goes Global

South America in 9 minutes

2010-07-26T12:31:00.000+01:00

Salta, Buenos Aires & final thoughts

2010-06-03T23:05:00.010+01:00

It was a relief to get out of La Paz. It was fun there for sure but a little crazy too. I'd hoped to see the legendary Uyuni salt flats on my way south but, Bolivia being Bolivia, some transport links were blockaded, and anyway I'd lost too much time in La Paz and needed to get a move on.

Last time I was in Argentina I never made it to the northwest, so it was to Salta I flew. It was great to be walking on flat, ordered streets again, and coming back to Argentina felt like coming home. Salta's a beautiful city too - I was going to say "wee city" but it's pretty big for a place with half a million people. Like La Paz, the size of the place doesn't seem to bear much relation to the number of people living here.

One thing that struck me immediately when I got back to Argentina, having been through Peru and Bolivia, was how European people look. It was the same in Colombia. The genetic makeup of people in South America is incredibly diverse. "Mestizo" is a term used to describe people of mixed European (essentially Spanish) and native South American descent, and are the prevalent ethnicity in Colombia and Ecuador (as well as Paragruay and Venezuela). White descendants are prevalent also in Argentina, Chile and Uruguay. Brazil is a melting pot of everything you could imagine. People from Peru and Bolivia, on the other hand, retain their Indian characteristics. When I got to Argentina, I couldn't tell who was a gringo and who was a local, which was blindlingly obvious in Peru and Bolivia.

Continuing the trend of turning up to places when there's something big on, it didn't get much bigger than this. The day after I arrived was the 200th anniversary of Argentina declaring its independence from Spain, so there was a big party all over the country. In every Argentine town there's a street or road called 25 de Mayo - that being the relevant date in 1810.

In Buenos Aires the festivities were attended by up to a staggering 2 million people - the biggest gathering in the country's history. In Salta, the party was somewhat smaller but it was nice to see people turning out and taking pride in their country, their history.

Salta was a great spot and next time (I'm sure there will be one) I return to Argentina I'll hang out there for longer as there's a lot to do in the region. I'd have liked to see a couple of other places, like Jujuy, Cordoba and Rosario, but I was keen to get to Buenos Aires and catch up with friends from last time. I've already seen the touristy things in BA so it's all about catching up with people this time. It's strange to be here when it's getting colder as last time I was there in the sweltering summer. It's weird to think I'll be leaving South America and getting warmer in London. Just one last photo for you - I can't remember if I mentioned it in the blog last time (and can't be bothered checking) but the rich folks in Palermo hire people to walk their dogs. A professional dog walker has his hands full....

Now I'm off back to London but I have another 2 months off before starting work so there may be some more entries to come...

Wrestling & Death Road

2010-05-23T20:25:00.007+01:00

Back in La Paz, I only had 2 things to cover, but because that place is made for partying, it took another week to do them and another week of partying afterwards before I made my escape. The first of those was the much anticipated midget wrestling, billed as "Cholita wrestling", featuring as it does women dressed up in traditional Bolivian dress, wrestling with each other and with men.

My expectations of some midget content had been managed by others who'd recently been and said we'd be lucky to see any, but I felt a little short changed, if you'll excuse the pun. Still, it was one of the most amusing things I've seen, with all the slapstick and cheesiness you might expect.

The guys were all dressed up in ludicrous outfits, the referees got involved with the "fights" and the cholitas got stuck in. All were "goodies" or "baddies" as you could tell from the reaction of the locals who go every week. They get the crowd involved as well, and it's encouraged that you throw fruit or whatever at the "baddies" when they're "cheating" or throwing things themselves at the crowd.

They'd throw each other out of the ring and jump off the ropes, and use props as weapons, chase each other around the arena, and it was all just very stupid and very entertaining. The sight of a Cholita jumping from the ropes (click to play below) was worth the admission alone.

The other compulaory thing on my list was "Death Road" - a long downhill mountain bike ride down what they say is the world's most dangerous road, And it's true - people die on that ride more often than you'd imagine.

It starts when they drop you in the cold and rain at 4300m, and you ride down 65km of sealed road, overtaking trucks if you fancy, which I did. Then you start the hard part - another 3-4 hours of nearly constant downhill, with sheer drops several hundred feet down - if you ride off the edge you're not coming back up.

Our agency had good bikes so my confidence grew all the time, probably too much. I expected to be hanging at the back and taking it easy but instead I was pushing it as hard as I could and taking corners close to the edge for a buzz. I enjoyed that ride from start to finish and would do it every day given the chance.

The visibility wasn't great the day we did it, but the scenery was still clearly amazing and riding through the mist close to the top had an eerie atmosphere. If you should find yourself in La Paz considering doing Death Road, pay for a good company with good bikes and safety gear. Plenty of people have accidents that don't involve riding off the edge - 2 girls in our group had minor falls - but your odds are better if you've got better kit.

Rurrenabaque

2010-05-10T22:03:00.006+01:00

The pampas and jungle tours are based from Rurrenabaque (or "Rurre" as the locals call it), an hour north of La Paz by plane, or 20 hours on a bus. Transport in and out of Rurre was tricky when I went. The flight I did book was delayed by a day due to the airstrip at the other end being too wet, and when we did arrive we found the town busy with people who'd done their tours but were still waiting to get out.

The thing was, apparently there'd been a factory planned for near Rurre, but the location was changed not long before construction was due to commence. The locals, unhappy that more jobs wouldn't be coming after all, did what Bolivians do best (next to striking) and blockaded the roads in and out of the area. This had been going on for 2 weeks before we got there, and they spiced things up by setting off dynamite on the roads to boot. All of which meant no buses were getting in or out, leaving hundreds of gringos to compete for the limited number of spaces on flights, on the days they were going.

Another consequence of the blockades was a shortage of gas, which made it harder to find an agency offering the tour we were after. In Rurre you choose between a jungle tour, which is said to be better for plants and insects, or the pampas tour, through more open terrain, which is said to feature more animals. Nothing against bees or trees, but it was the pink dolphins we were after. The agency we wanted had no gas for the pampas tour, but we found another which did have gas and was just starting up pampas tours, having in the past specialised in the jungle. Most of the agencies doing pampas go to the same part of the river, but this agency would go to a different part, and offer horse riding as part of the tour. We fancied something different so we chose them, and were the 2nd group they'd ever taken.

On one part of the river we had to stop and clear some trees that had fallen and were blocking the way through, which involved hacking with machete and pulling all the roots and branches out. With alligators in the area this was something of an adrenaline rush.

It's amazing how your perception of an experience can change over time. The tour was always fine, and we had a good group, but at first I was a little underwhelmed at the wildlife. Maybe after the Galapagos I'd expected there to be hundreds of pink dolphins waving us in with their flippers, and was disappointed to find just a few solitary ones occasionally breaking the surface, and certainly not hanging around to swim with us.

But looking back on it, there were huge birds of paradise swooping through the air, we saw more alligators than I could count, the occasional capybara (a rodent the size of a pig), and of course monkeys, and some turtles too. So while it wasn't quite evidence of that concentration of biodiversity I'd heard about, it was still pretty bloody good. Back in Rurre afterwards, the roads were by now open again, but we were still stuck for a couple of days waiting for the backlog to clear. I could happily have been stuck there for longer, it was such a great little spot.

Copacabana & La Paz

2010-05-02T20:50:00.009+01:00

With the national strike over and the border open for business again, it was an easy 4 hours around the lake to get to Copacabana. I seem to have a habit of turning up at places when there's something significant happening, and there was a big festival in Copacabana this weekend.

Seemingly the whole town was out, involved in a carnival procession with marching bands and colourfully dressed women and men dancing in various uniforms through the town streets.

Much of the town was also on the grog, with the men huffing from cans between puffing on their tubas and trumpets. You could tell from each man's stagger whether they'd already done their lap of the town yet. The stoutly-built older women stuck to shaking their heads in weary despair at the pissed men and completing the procession with the slightly-less-stout-but-heading-in-that-direction younger women.

It was a relaxed spot and you could spend a few days here if not in a hurry. If I'd been able to come a day earlier as planned I'd have gone to Isla del Sol for a night, but as it was Sunday I was keen to get to La Paz for the live midget wrestling. Some people I'd met in Colombia told me about it and it shot straight to #1 on the list of things I have to see on this trip, if not in my life. Unfortunately, in the event we arrived in La Paz too late for the pickup, but I also wanted to be in La Paz to arrange a trip to the pampas, where you can swim with pink river dolphins and see some of the most densely concentrated biodiversity in the world.

Flights for Monday were full so I had a day to walk around the city and get my bearings for when I'm back. It's the highest capital in the world, at 3,600m, and boasts possibly the world's most pollutant buses. Like many South American cities, the orientation is reversed from what we see in the west - the affluent living lower down and the poor neighbourhoods lining the hills. One such area - El Alto - sits up on the plains right above the basin in which La Paz sits. It began life as a slum but has grown efficiently and exponentially to now be an award winning city in its own right, with a population to match the 855,000 of La Paz, which is an incredibly small population when you survey how much area each covers.

Bolivia's 2nd highest mountain - Illimani - peeps out at you from beyond some of the streets, and in the late afternoon I walked up one of the northern roads to seek a beer at sunset and take in the view. I walked up.... and up...... and up..... and gradually became aware that I was not in a touristy part of town. I kept on anyway, for a while, but when I passed a bar populated by what looked like a biker gang, staring in disbelief at the gringo walking so far out of town, I figured it was time to head back. I got the photo I was after, though.

Puno

2010-04-30T15:28:00.020+01:00

Aside from the name, which I can't help but laugh at childishly, Puno's a good place to break up the trip to Bolivia. Sitting on the Peruvian shore of Lake Titicaca - the world's highest navigable lake, at 3,860m - there isn't a great deal to do here, but that was what the doctor ordered after a few post-trail fun nights in Cuzco.

You can take the bus here, and if I was being sensible with my money I'd have done that. But the train ride is said to be one of the world's finest so I had to see for myself. At $220 it had to be pretty good, and I was glad I forked out the cash. The route snakes alongside the Huatanay river and up to, and across, the Andean plains as it heads south. It reminded me a lot of the Andean scenery when Ed and I left El Calafate to bus it towards Ushuaia.

You pass farming communities constantly, and one thing that was noticeable was that it was usually women, dressed up in the heavy traditional Quechua dress, working the fields. Now is harvest time, and you see piles of wheat in a wigwam shape, tied towards the top, standing like rows of sentries. Perhaps the way these piles point towards the sun is a hangover from the Incan sun worshipping days, but I don't know.

Kids run and wave as the train goes past, as no doubt they do every day. Then again, when you see how much else it looks like there is to do in those towns, it's no surprise. It's a wonder they don't try to jump on. Or maybe they do.

From my vantage point on the outside deck of the train I watched it all roll by. They gave us a first class meal, and a "fashion show" for which read a couple of hot chicks were modelling scarves and gloves made from alpaca wool, which we were kindly invited to buy.

There was also some live Peruvian music but this was lost on me. I'm not the world's biggest fan of panpipe music, and Peru's the wrong place for me to be on that score. But all round, I got to see a lot more than I would have done through a bus window, and the food was amazing.

The main tourist attraction in Puno is a trip to Uros - the floating islands. The Uros people originally started constructing these raft islands, with their villages on, to prevent attacks by the Incas, which gives you an idea how long they've been there. The 42 islands are made from totora reeds, with straw huts sitting atop. They replace the reeds every 15 days, to stop the "ground" rotting.

Nearly everything is made from reeds. It's not all traditional, though - they also have solar panels and electrical goods like TVs. I didn't see a Playstation but you never know. They're chasing the tourist dollar now, big time. Every island has the usual array of stuff, bracelets etc, for sale, and they tried to have us believe, on one island, that they only get visited 3 times in a month. We saw 2 other trips that day, and I don't think they only take visitors one day in the month...

So apart from that I chilled out in Puno. I was supposed to go to Bolivia today, but there's been a national strike there for 2 days. I'm told this is something I will get used to in Bolivia - things taking an unpredictable amount of time. Hopefully I can get there tomorrow...

Cuzco & Conquest

2010-04-27T18:39:00.026+01:00

Bidding the islands a groggy farewell, I flew to Lima for a couple of quiet nights. Most travellers give Lima a bad rap but it seemed okay to me. It's a huge city and it's not easy to get around the sights, which may be why people complain, but I'll come back next trip and spend a few days here.

Cuzco was a big change of climate and change of scene after a couple of weeks on the islands. Fortunately for me, the altitude didn't present any problems. They call Peru the Egypt of the Americas, and it's from Cuzco that most people set off to see the jewel in the Inca crown - Machu Picchu, of which more later.

Due to such an attraction, Cuzco's one of the most touristy places in South America. At the airport you have to run the gauntlet of tour agencies offering you this or that, and in town you're always running the gauntlet of women selling massages. The city and its surroundings are beautiful enough, and Cuzco's enough fun, that it doesn't matter. And in any case, there's something stupid about a tourist complaining about a place being too touristy.

I took a bus 11km out of town to a site called Tambo Machay, which was small but in good shape and still boasted Incan plumbing with water flowing. Near to that was Puca Pucara, which wasn't remarkable. From there I walked back towards Cuzco, taking in another 2 ruins, one being the magnificent Saqsaywaman (pronounced similar to "sexy woman" in a thick Jamaican accent).

Although the Spanish burned most of the original site, the stones remain, and you can see how the Incas constructed their cities. The stones were enormous, some being as high and wide as 2 tall, fat people, and fit together perfectly as the Incas cut them to fit without any bonding or cement. Imagine a jigsaw puzzle with thousands of pieces, weighing up to several tonnes each (the heaviest is 120 tonnes) and you get the idea.

The Inca Empire and the Spanish Conquest

The Inca empire emerged from the 13th century and covered, at its peak, all of present day Peru and Bolivia, and the surrounding areas from Ecuador, Colombia, Argentina and Chile. Most of these territories were captured and ruled by peaceful, pragmatic means. Cuzco was where the early tribe sprang from and it remained the heart and administrative centre throughout the empire. Quechua was the official language but, inevitably over such a large area, there were hundreds of dialects and variations. The word Inka itself means ruler or lord in Quechua, and referred to the ruling family. (The Spanish later transliterated it to Inca and used it to refer to all subjects of the empire rather than just the ruling class.)

All empires ultimately crumble - Egyptian, Ottoman, British, Spanish all. The Inca empire came to an end with the Spanish Conquest in 1533, but had already been fraying at the seams. The Spanish had reached Inca territory in the late 1920s and reckoned they'd stumbled on a great and rich place to raid. By the time they returned in 1532 to conquer the Incas, the empire was already weakened due to a conflict between two ruling brothers, unrest in the territories, and smallpox. Within a year, much of the empire was under Spanish control. In 1533 they arrived in Cuzco and promptly smashed and burned the place up. Some original walls are still in place, the Spanish having incorporated them when constructing the new city.

True to form in their conquest of South America, the Spanish quickly set about destroying the traditions of the Incas. Many aspects of Inca culture were systematically destroyed, including their sophisticated farming system. The Spaniards used mandatory public service to literally work the people to death. One member of each family was forced to work in the gold and silver mines, the foremost of which was the silver mine at Potosi in present day Bolivia. When a family member died, which would usually happen within a year or two, the family would be required to send a replacement. Smallpox, diptheria and measles largely finished the Inca empire off.

It's tragic that we lost the intelligence of the Incas, like the Egyptians before them. Their endeavour, and grasp of mathematics, agriculture and construction make the skyscrapers in our cities today seem vulgar by comparison. We still can't figure out, with all our wonderful technology, how the Egyptians did some things. But history is littered with conquest, and oppression of the conquered. It's fitting that the empires which grow from such brutality and enslavement also seem to crumble under their own weight. Perhaps one of the most tragic aspects of the fall of the Inca empire is that its growth was largely peaceful, and could have served as an example that, even if you do believe that conquest and expansion is somehow good, violent means can be a last resort rather than the norm. Then again, if you believe that conquest and expansion is somehow good, you're an asshole anyway.

The Inca Trail and Machu Picchu

Not being sure if I would need time to adjust to the altitude, I'd arrived 3 days before starting the walk. I managed to take it easy for the first couple of nights but then met up with a friend from London and the drinks were flying. So although with a 5am start a few drinks were ill advised, I couldn't resist.

I'd booked the trip 2 months before, as I heard you always need to book several weeks in advance. It used to be that you could just show up in Cuzco and find a late place, but not anymore, at least not with any agencies worth using. I chose Peru Treks on the grounds that they put some of their profits back towards community projects, and they're said to treat their porters well. They treated this Porter well, for sure. I'd heard from people in Cuzco that the food was good with Peru Treks, too, and I wasn't disappointed.

There were 16 in the group, a mix of Aussies, Americans, Brits, Swedish, a German, and me. The trail only opened at the start of April, so the timing was lucky for us. Huge landslides in January wiped out part of the railway line between Cuzco and Agua Calientes (near the site) leaving thousands stranded for several days. There was damage throughout the area, and it wasn't certain that the trail would be open again so soon. They always close the trail in February to give it some time to regenerate from the other 11 months of sweaty gringos walking it. This year it was closed in March, too.

We went by bus 2 hours east of Cuzco in the Sacred Valley of the Incas to Ollantaytambo for breakfast and to buy last minute provisions. I didn't bother with a walkingstick on the Colombia trek and the downhills killed my knees on that, so I made sure to arm myself this time. From there the bus continued to KM82, at 2,600m the start of the trail and the end of the road.

It's stunning scenery from the start, as you're surrounded by mountains and steep hillsides that remind you how insignificant we are. We passed some terraces at a site called Llactapapa, which was once used as an agricultural station to supply Machu Picchu with maize, the staple crop. Onwards along the river and up a steady incline, we reached our first camp, at 3,100m, Wayllabamba.

There was a rough football area ("field" would be pushing it, without grass on 90% of the playing surface) so some of the group joined the porters and guides for a kickaround. There was something special about the setting, being surrounded by higher peaks. This felt like the Peru I was hoping for. The first day was complete with us standing around the bar, which consisted of a bucket of beers on the ground. It was a fitting end to a hard first day.

The next day we were up at sunrise for breakfast in spectacular surroundings, before hitting the trail. We were shown how to chew coca leaves, with a little lump of charcoal to release the active ingredients in the leaves. It's hard to describe just how disgusting the taste is, and I'm not sure how much of a help it was for me seeing as I wasn't struggling with the altitude anyway. The first section was painless enough, up to 3,300m for a break. From there the going got a little harder, and it was another 1.5 hours to the next break point which, bearing in mind we'd been on an incline pretty much the whole way, was inexplicably only another 380m up. Most people consider the 2nd day to be the hardest, as the next section's a long, steep uphill to the highest point of the trail - Dead Woman's Pass, at 4,200m.

After the pass it was another 1.5 hours downhill to our 2nd camp. At 3,500m it was the highest place we would sleep, and definitely the coldest. We had a good introduction to the porters - all 19 of them - and the cooks, legends both. Most of the porters also work on farms, and leave the trail during harvest times. There was quite a range of ages among them, the youngest being 19 and the oldest a staggering 63. How anyone can stomp the trail with 25 kilos of camping gear, week in, week out, at that age, in rubber sandals, is beyond me. It was enough to hike with about 6kg in good boots at 33. It was difficult for them when the trail was closed for the extra month in March but Peru Treks went to their villages and gave donations to help them through.

The mist rolling up the valley added some atmosphere to the location, cold as a witch's tit though itwas. The guides treated us to some ghost stories after dinner. They were possibly the worst ghost stories I ever heard, such as Dead Woman's Pass being named after a woman who camped in the cold at the top years ago against locals' advice....and who wasn't there when they checked in the morning..... and they went further down and found her pale and...... not moving and...... went to get the police, who came to collect the body and discovered that....... she wasn't really dead.

Those who don't rate day 2 as the hardest say that day 3 is, as it's easily the longest. It starts with another climb past the Runkuracay ruins to another pass at 4,200m. The view from here is amazing and it's nice to know there are no more big uphills. We decended to another ruin at Sayacmarca, whose purpose wasn't known. After here the trail took us through spectcular cloudforest, with ferns and mosses that wouldn't look out of place on the south island of New Zealand. We made it to the final pass and again had amazing views of the surrounding valleys, with cloud and mist rolling in and out.

From here is the reason some say day 3 is the hardest - a long slog down over 1,000 Inca steps they call the Gringo Killer. Even with the walking pole it wasn't the easiest on the knees by the end, and it was a relief to make the last camp for a cold beer and a hot shower, although it wasn't a relief to be paying the prices demanded for those things. I guess they have a captive market. After 3 days of walking and having survived the Gringo Killer, there's a sense of achievement that can only be rewarded with a bottle of suds.

There wasn't much sleep on offer that night, partly because of the rain making a racket on the tent, partly because I was getting pissed off with sleeping in the tent, and partly because they gotus up at 3:45 for breakfast. They get you up early so you can cover the 2 hours to the Sun Gate (leading to Machu Picchu) before the sun appears over the peaks to the east. It's always hit and miss at Machu Picchu at that time of day, and with clouds coming in upon our arrival at the Sun Gate, we'd hit a miss day. Still, there was something special about sitting there on the terraces in the high cloud, knowing we'd made it.

We continued down to the main site and waited for the cloud to lift. Even with some cloud enveloping the site, there was a magical feel to the place, but when the clouds did lift it was magnificent.

The city was built around 1450, at the peak of the Inca empire, most archaeologists believe it was to be an estate for the Inca emperor. It was abandoned in 1572, although (fortunately for all of us who can see it now) the Spanish never found it, and therefore never destroyed it like pretty much everywhere else in the empire. What a waste.

In 1983 this became a World Heritage site, and in 2007 a new Wonder of the World. The pictures explain better than I can...

More Galapagos

2010-04-16T12:51:00.022+01:00

It was good to spend an extra week here and get more of a feeling about the islands and the islanders. I went with a friend from the boat trip to one of the populated islands - Isabela - for 3 nights. Its township is too small to boast paved roads and the pace of life would make Jamaica look like Johannesburg.

It's a beautiful little spot, but it's let down to some degree by the tour agencies chasing the tourist dollar with few or no scruples. We booked a snorkel trip on the 2nd day and the agency produced a picture chart showing us all the marine life we would likely see, including sharks. There's no doubt they knew very well that the water in that area is too warm for sharks now, and will be until June, so we were never going to see them. But they insisted on the lie, and they peddle the lie to anyone who goes in there asking about snorkelling.

We didn't book the trip on the basis of any sharks - we were after swimming with tropical fish, sea lions, turtles and penguins - but it's still disappointing to see the agencies (ours was not unique) behaving like that. The trip itself was a non event too. You might be forgiven for thinking that a snorkelling tour would take place from a boat with adequate gear, but neither of our masks permitted any visibility. To make matters worse the 3 pairs of fin on board were all too big for my friend. This wouldn't have been a problem in deeper water, but it was too shallow and it was impossible to avoid making contact with the rocks. My friend stood on a sea urchin so we had to abandon the sea immediately and get to a hospital to remove the barbs from her feet. So in the course of a single tour we were misled by the agency and let down by the boat. We wanted to make amends by going the next day but the conditions were awful and we were foiled again.

Back on the main island, Santa Cruz, I hired a mask and snorkel and went to a great spot, only to discover that the snorkel was leaving from a tear. Another day and another snorkel trip, and I was promised (more than once, as I knew now to make proper enquiries) all the right gear would be on the boat, only to find that skipper had no fins.

Fortunately I didn't need them in the event but it's disappointing, in a place like this, to find that the agencies are so cavalier about your experience. The wildlife always has other ideas, though, and when I once found myself face to fin with a 3m Galapagos Shark, the snorkel equipment wasn't the first thing on my mind. I should also clarify that notwithstanding the agencies being, frankly, shit, the place still makes up for it.

All of the above is more a cautionary note if you come here - it would take a lot more than those gripes to have disturbed my experience of this place. It's not just the tour agencies, though. I spoke to several people doing volunteer work on the islands, and they found that what they'd paid (a lot) to do here bears little or no resemblance to the work they are actually doing, almost without exception. Perhaps it would be a useful idea to have a central agency overseeing the various volunteer agencies to clamp down on the dodgy operators which seem to prevail. Seeing as most of those volunteer agencies seem to be based away from the islands they'd need to do it by way of some permitted agency system. Whatever, if you're considering doing volunteer work out here be very careful about the details, try to speak to someone who's volunteered here to find out if what you're being sold stacks up against what is permitted, and use an agency that's been recommended to you by experience. Failing that, do a shitload of research, and be prepared for the possibility of still being mis-sold.

Education is available for children here, but from what I could tell most of them complete their education on the mainland, typically in Quito or Guayaquil. Most seem to return home to love and work, which isn't a surprise given the quality of life here compared to the mainland. As born and bred locals are keen to tell you , the populaton on the 3 main populated islands, particularly Santa Cruz, has grown rapidly, and is now at around 30,000.

Bizarrely, the last 10 years have seen the population double by some estimates, but it was 12 years ago that the Ecuadorian government passed the Special Law for Galapagos, which prevents mainland Ecuadorians from having automatic rights of residence on the islands. They should theoretically only have the 90 days per year that the rest of us are entitled to. However, there are an estimated 5,000 (and growing) living on the islands below the radar, without proper papers.

It's not hard to see why they consider it worth the risk - even forgetting the natural beauty, wages are around 70% higher on the islands than the mainland and crime is virtually non exisitent in stark contrast to the mainland. As so often in South America, the situation on paper (in this case the Special Law) differs sharply from the underlying reality. There has apparently been more of a crackdown of late, with 1,000 mainlanders expelled and another 2,000 normalised 18 months ago. But the ecological impact is likely mainly driven by the ever increasing tourism rather than by migration.

UNESCO reckons that if tourism continues to grow at this pace, there will be 400,000 annually in 10 years. That's a lot more boats and a lot more waste. I noticed on Isabela that the marine iguanas sunning themselves were more reticent than on other islands which see fewer visitors, and would sometimes retreat as you approached. On the other islands, they'd never do that, and sometimes ambled towards us to take a closer look. That must hide a deeper story. Here's hoping that the authorities find a way to properly control both tourist numbers and immigration to preserve the integrity of the islands. If the result of human activity expanding is that the possibility to get so close to the stunning wildlife is lost, then the whole rationale for the islands as a tourist destination is lost also, and everybody loses - man and beast, locals, mainlanders and foreigners.

I think a fairly reliable way of taking the pulse of a tropical island is to make a mental note of how often you hear Bob Marley. Surprisingly for such a chilled oput place, the Marley-O-Meter gives a low reading, but (like Colombia's carib coast) the UB40 index is strong. Fine by me. The low Bob count notwithstanding, the locals are relaxed and seem happy with their lot here. Given the number of undocumented residents, there is unemployment (a local cafe owner placed an ad for help and saw 5 applicants within the day, none of whom had papers) but for now it's not visible beyond the usual smattering of Sunday drunks.

It's another surprise that accommodation (you can get a private room for $15-20) and food (you can get a set lunch for $3) are so affordable here. Bearing this in mind the islands are accessible even for travellers on a budget, although the return flight from the mainland's around $400 and, in my experience, there's no substitute for setting aside extra and doing a 4-5 day boat trip.

Aside from weighing up my sailing options for what wildlife to see, my hardest decision from day to day was whether to go snorkeling or surfing, so I guess it's fair to say this is one of the most beautiful and relaxed places I'll ever be lucky enough to visit. Now I'm around halfway through this trip. I've done the warm half, now I'm headed for the cold....

Reach for your camera / thesaurus.... it's the Galapagos Islands!!

2010-04-09T15:53:00.003+01:00

It wasn't a difficult choice to include a visit to the legendary Galapagos Islands. It's not cheap to come here, but it's worth every penny. The message in the picture below's not wrong.

After a quiet night in Quito, my flight was around 3 hours via Guayaquil. Despite the inane and plain wrong commentary I could hear from the Americans sitting behind me, my anticipation and excitement grew by the minute, and by the time we'd touched down, I could barely contain myself. And by the time we'd toiuched down, I'd decided to sacrifice Iquitos in Peru for an extra few days here.

It's surely only a matter of time before the authorities increase the National Park fee from the present $100 and maybe clamp down on visitor numbers, so I figured I should make the most of it while I'm here and I've spent the cash on the return flight from Ecuador. It'll mean another trip to South America to see more, but that's fine by me. It's better to take your time and enjoy places than to get in a big hurry and miss out on the experiences.

There are various ways you can approach your time here. You can do a land-based trip or take a place on a boat cruise. I'm doing both. I went straight to a recommended agency from the airport and booked a last minute discounted place on a 4 day boat trip taking in some of the more remote islands, with a view to spending a few days afterwards on 2 of the main islands - Santa Cruz and Isabela.

There's more wildlife here than you can shake a stick at, and I'll be able to relax in spectacular surroundings and fit in some surfing in one of the world's most beautiful places. I was lucky to get the place on the boat for the following day - turning up and booking something locally last minute can take weeks, and it was Easter too so I thought it would be tricky, but it worked out just fine.

After sorting a boat place and a room for the night, I went with a couple of girls from the flight to see the Charles Darwin Research Station. The Galapagos Islands were instrumental in Darwin's theory of evolution. The islands have never been connected to the mainland, and over hundreds of years those species that migrated here by floating or flying have developed distinctive traits and characteristics. Darwin recognised this and so, together with other observations came to posit his ground breaking theory. Ironically, he was selected to participate in the famous Beagle voyage which landed here in 1835 on the assumption that he shared the pious religious point of view of the ship's devout captain.

The research station itself is kind of nondescript but interesting at the same time. There are species of iguana and giant tortoises, the best known being Lonesome George, the oldest surviving specimen of his kind. There are other enormous males with which, like so many of the animals which make these islands so special, you can get up close and personal. You're not allowed to touch the animals here, particularly sea lion pups which can be rejected by their mothers if they carry human scent, but the fact they are tame and uninhibited enough for you to get so close to them, and the incredible variety of species here, are what makes this a truly unforgettable experience.

After that first special introduction to island life, it was a bottle of rum with one of the girls and a night swim in the beautiful warm water to cap off a fantastic first day.

Boat Cruise - Day 1

Up at the crack of early, I took a bus back to the airport for a transfer to the boat. There are 14 of us plus the guide and staff, and we're well looked after with good food and comfortable cabins. Not that we're on the boat much during the day - the emphasis is very much on getting amongst the spectacular scenery and wildlife.

Today we went to the northern shore of Santa Cruz to a beach where giant turtles go to lay their eggs. It's breeding season but there were no turtles on the beach since they've already laid their eggs, as evidenced by the enormous pits you can see were created by these magnificent, clumsy creatures. We did see one swimming in the surf, bloody enormous it was.

We took a walk to a little lagoon and saw some flamingoes feeding there, though its not a colony. We'll see one of those in a couple of days and it's sure to be a beautiful sight, in keeping with everything here.

We also saw plenty of crabs - particularly the beautiful Sally Lightfoot variety - hopping around on the rocks. I'm not especially a fan of the crab, and I'm happy to report I've never had crabs, but these were pretty cool.

No day here would be complete without seeing iguanas or sea lions, and we saw a couple of black marine iguanas sunning themselves on the sand. The sea was too rough for snorkelling, but we were able to swim in the beautiful turquoise water for a while. It was probably a good thing I didn't have my mask on, because a small shark swam through our group. If I'd seen it I'd have issued a small brown eel in fright, but they tell me the sharks here are pretty mellow and you can swim with hammerheads. Something to look forward to...

On our way to our overnight anchor spot, we were accompanied by a group of frigate birds, which we amused ourselves with by trying to feed by throwing balls of bread in the air for them to catch. With skills like those, the frigate bird should stick to its other normal means of feeding. You can click the button below to see them flying with us.

Boat Cruise - Day 2

Up again at daybreak, our first stop was South Plaza Island, where a handful of sea lions greeted us. We wandered a trail around the island seeing more sea lions but the main attraction here were land iguanas, which are breeding here now so there were plenty.

Before I came here I was only really fussed about seeing sea lions, iguanas and tortoises, but I was still stoked to see lizards and some unusual species of birds like the blue footed booby and lava gulls. You can't help but get excited at ever

After lunch we sailed to a beautiful little bay at Santa Fe island for snorkelling in more amazing water. My mate Adam would need to explain to me what the various fish were, aside from enormous parrot fish and spotted eagle rays. All I can say with certainty is that they were beautiful and it was a great experience I'll take with me.

Our late afternoon was spent sitting with a group of sea lions on a beach nearby. I could have sat there for days, watching them flopping around to settle in a new spot to laze around for a while before flopping to another spot. Click the button below to see what I mean.

We went for a short walk around part of the island and saw another species of land iguana, which wasn't in breeding season, plus some finches, Galapagos doves and mockingbirds. Back on the boat we saw a turtle swimming nearby so some of us went back in for more snorkelling. We didn't find that turtle, or any of its mates, but we did go swimming with sea lions, which was the main thing I wanted to do here. I couldn't stop smiling, which made it difficult to keep my snorkel in place. We'll be doing a lot more swimming with sea lions in the next couple of days, so I couldn't be happier.

Boat Cruise - Day 3

I woke at 4:30, wandered out to deck and was greeted by a shooting star and my first sight in a while of the Southern Cross. It was going to be a good day.

Our first stop was Española island, home for a few months to albatross migrating from further south. They're magnificent birds but you have to be amused watching them try to take off. Because of their enormous wingspan and weight, they can't simply take to the air like most birds - they have to walk to the edge of a cliff and launch off into the wind, ideally not plunging into the ocean below. They're not generally confident, so they'll often walk to the edge and try to pluck up the courage before chickening out and waiting a few minutes before going to the edge to try again. They get there in the end.

They've only just started arriving in the last week, so we were lucky to get a glimpse. In a month's time this place will be covered with them.

We went on to a blow hole which shoots up a huge spurt of water with each crashing wave, before leaving a rainbow in the dispersing spray. Masked, or Nasca boobies were breeding round here so we saw hundreds of them nesting and preening themselves. The blue footed booby isn't breeding here at the moment (though I think they are in a different island) so we only saw a couple of them.

On the way back to the boat we were treated to the sight of land iguanas making their nests. They fight for nesting rights on spots of ground, and it was very entertaining watching the duels unfold. The battles are short and not especially violent but they can get airborne.

In the afternoon we sailed to Gardner island and bay for more snorkelling in a cave and around a rock off the beach. On the beach itself were hundreds of sea lions lazing or flopping around, as they do.

We had to leave a little earlier than planned as one of the passengers had been ill since before the cruise and the antibiotics he'd bought in Peru weren't helping. It turned out the "antibiotics" were in fact aspirin, which explained a lot. I guess the moral of that story is always check your medication carefully if you're buying it on the road. I met a couple of guys in Colombia who's asked a pharmacy for valium to help them sleep on the bus. The stuff they were given was for epilepsy sufferers and left them feeling spaced out for days. But I digress...

We sailed to San Cristobal, one of the bigger islands, so he could get some medical attention and real antibiotics. Several of the boat's crew and el capitan jumped ashore too to see their wives for conjugal visits, having been sailing constantly for a few weeks without going to San Cristobal, which isn't on that boat's route. A couple of us also got off for a wander and were blown away by the sight of hundreds of sea lions lazing all over the beach, pier, and even on benches. How on earth did they manage to get up there?

They made a hell of a racket, with pups looking for their mothers and being barked at the 99% of the time they were going in for some milk from the wrong tit, and with the general bickering, barking and coughing we've come to expect.

Boat Cruise - Day 4

After another overnight cruise, to Floreana island, we had a short walk inland to a lava tunnel. Unfortunately it had been raining heavily there the previous afternoon so we weren't able to descend into the tunnel, walk around and swim inside, which was the plan. We walked back to Post Office Bay, where there's been a tradition since 1793 that you can leave postcards, addressed but unstamped. The idea is that you check the box and if there are any addressed to your hometown or somewhere you're going, you take it with you and deliver it.

Having done the mail run and left some cards of our own, we went snorkelling off the beach and around the rocks with a huge turtle and two smaller ones. My underwater camera's one of those old school disposable ones, so I can only hope the pictures come out ok.

From there we sailed to Devil's Crown for some amazing snorkelling among an incredible variety of fish, starfish, octupii and sharks. No brown eels from me either, which was a boon. They told us it would be like snorkelling in an aquarium, and on that evidence I'm not arguing.

Afterwards we went inland to a lagoon where we saw a few flamingoes grazing, and then on to another beach with incredible white sand.

And with that, the activities were done and we set sail for Santa Cruz, and tucked into the rum. We did have a last minute treat when we found an extra passenger at around 4am. The wildlife really is everywhere you can imagine...

I changed my flight so I've got another week here. There's a few nice surf spots around which are not crowded and have easy waves. If, like me, you can't surf to save your life, it's ideal. That the beaches are stunning, with white sand and amazing water, is a bonus too...

Bogota - Medellin - Cali - Bogota

2010-04-01T13:15:00.002+01:00

After a relaxed couple of days in San Gil, it was time to head for the capital to meet up with friends and have a big party in the big city. Bogota is massive, with over 7m people. Like other places I've been to in Colombia, it's flanked by hills which give a great view of the city if you make the trip to the top.

On my first night we went to a great club on the 42nd floor of what was once the Hilton. We had great views to go with a good DJ set, from the city lights at night to an impressive vista of the city in daylight when the sun came up.

After an extra lazy day due to a public holiday, I went to see a cathedral which is set in an enormous salt mine an hour outside of Bogota. It's one of Colombia's most notable tourist attractions, yet in true Colombia style you still have to ask the locals in the town where to walk, as there are no signs. They still extract salt here and from time to time miners are injured or killed, mines being generally dangerous places to work. The cathedral used to be in a different part of the mine but that collapsed a few years ago so they´ve set this one up in this part of the mine which is considered more structurally sound. I´m no fan of churches generally but this was nicely done and I couldn't help but be impressed with the way they´ve done this in the middle of a mountain.

That night I went back to Medellin to meet up with the trek group and we had a couple of good nights out there. I saw a few other people I'd met up on the coast too, so it was great to see them again too. We went to a water park one afternoon as well which was amusing. I got wolf whistled and harassed by a group of old Colombia women there. Animals, they were.

From Medellin 3 of us went to Cali for a change of scenery and to decide for ourselves what we thought of the place. You hear mixed reviews about Cali more than any other place in Colombia - people seem to either love it or hate it, and there seems to be an even split of opinion. Maybe they should rename it Marmite.

After the night bus and a small snooze we went to the zoo for the first day. I like zoos generally but I often get a minor guilt complex about some of the animals being caged, especially birds. This one wasn't too bad though, if a little dull. Cali is the salsa capital of Colombia (the dance, not the condiment...) so we were honour bound to go and see what it was like. Local friends of friends took us out to show us how it was done. The club was like many in Colombia and played a mix of electronica and salsa music, with no discernible mixing. Not for the first time, a local tried to teach me to salsa and underestimated my ability to make a hash of it. I can only hope her feet are okay now. Randomly I met Mick Cripps who played guitar and bass for LA Guns. He was a funny guy, had his own style and didn't give a shit.

Next day we went for a wander and after I went back to the hostel in the afternoon my 2 friends were robbed in a park. They weren't hurt but it was a reminder that, safe as Colombia is, there are still places not to be trusted when there are no police around. I didn't spend enough time in Cali or see enough of it to gain a solid impression but from what I did see, I can't be sure what the fuss is about. Maybe I shouldn't compare it to Medellin.

We went back to Bogota for a final party before the last of us from the trek went our separate ways. We went up one of the hills overlooking the city for a chilled evening. I noticed the altitude up there for the first time. Bogota sits at around 2,600m above sea level, and although I never felt the altitude in the city, the 500m or so higher on that hill definitely made a difference. I'll have to consider stopping smoking before I get to Maccu Picchu...

I went to another recommended attraction in Bogota - the Gold Museum. It houses an impressive array of artefacts from several hundred years ago. Gold was an integral part of life for the pre Hispanics and they used it for decoration, armour, to make musical instruments and to pay homage to and communicate with their gods. We went to the planetarium as well which was ok. I either underestimated how much spoken Spanish there would be or overestimated my ability to comprehend it. Either way, I left not much the wiser but it was still entertaining enough.

My last big night was a return to the club we'd been to on my first visit but the music was bad. A couple of girls I'd met the first time turned up and they took me to another place also several floors up. This high up:

And that was Colombia. I had a great time here, saw some great sights and met some great people. It was the perfect time to come - enough tourists are here that there is plenty to do, but still many people around the world have the mistaken impression that it's still dangerous, so it's nowhere near too touristy like some parts of Thailand. There are some small ways in which you get the impression that Colombia hasn't quite geared up for tourists, like the fact that postcards are almost impossible to come by. The people are really friendly and, whether because they're aware that their country is still shaking off its bad rep or just because they want you to like it, they are anxious to make sure you feel safe and have a good time. I hope things keep improving here and more people come to see what Colombia has to offer. It's not all about coffee and drugs. The police presence is undoubtedly a big factor in the safety here and in a strange way I think I will need to be on my guard more when I head south. Tomorrow.

San Gil

2010-03-20T13:42:00.006Z

It's a 9 hour bus ride from Santa Marta to Bucaramunga, and then a further 2-3 to San Gil, which lies on the road to Bogota. They have a habit in Colombia of setting the air con to "very cold" while not giving you blankets. I'd been warned about this so had jeans, boots and a jumper on, but it was no match for the arctic blast of the AC. The other notable thing about any road travel in Colombia is that overtaking is almost compulsory, and encouraged on blind corners. Also, the double yellow lines seem to be considered as more for illustration than instruction. Still I managed to sleep most of the time and woke up just before Bucaramanga, and it was just a short wait for the connection to San Gil.

It's hard to know what to make of San Gil after being on the coast for 3 weeks. It doesn't immediately strike you as a pretty town, but then it depends on what you're comparing it to. It's not exactly Paris, but it's nice enough. There are tourist boards up all over the town which suggests they're trying hard to build this place into a destination for visitors. One side of town covers a steep hill and the streets gave me flashbacks of the uphills and downhills on the trek. As my Swiss friends from the trek, who I'm here with, said - "if they built streets on hills like this in Switzerland, we'd be fucked".

San Gil is the self styled "adventure capital of Colombia" so, aside from being an ideal location to break up a journey between Bogota and Santa Marta, there's a lot to do here to get the adrenaline going. You can do whitewater rafting, kayaking, canyoning, caving, paragliding and more. I thought the rafting was a little expensve so I opted for paragliding.

The take off was sweet...

and I'd say no part of it got the pulse going, but there was this...

...so there was a little adrenaline, although for the most part it was tranquilo.

There´s a beautiful gardens a short walk towardsthe edge of town, too, so I went for a relaxed day. There are old trees that stand majestically, with fir sweeping down. They had a kind of shabby elegance, like old women dressed up for a ball.

I was on my way to Bogota to meet up with the crew from the trek, so the nights were quiet for me ahead of a big weekend....

Ciudad Perdida, Parque Tayrona & Simon Bolivar

2010-03-17T15:59:00.002Z

One of the biggest things on my agenda this trip was a trek through the forest and back for 5 days to see Ciudad Perdida - literally, the "Lost City". This remote outpost is said to have been founded around 800AD and was inhabited by the indigenous Tairona until 400 years ago. They were spread throughout this region of Colombia, all around the mountainsides of Sierra Nevada, with Ciudad Perdida (called Teyuna by the locals back in the day) as the capital of the region.

The tribes living in the lower areas around the mountains were massacred when they refused to adopt the religion and way of life favoured by the Spaniards. Although the Spaniards couldn't find or reach Teyuna and directly impose the joys of cultural and religious empire on the Tairona people there, the indigenous died out from starvation and malnutrition, as they were no longer able to leave their city to trade vital goods and services they needed to sustain life up there. The Spaniards were waiting for them lower down in the other villages, so it was too dangerous. The remoteness of the city, once a defensive bonus, turned their home into a prison.

After its abandonment, the city was lost for years until tomb raiders discovered it once more in 1973. When artefacts started appearing in the local black markets, the authorities revealed the city to the world. There are still indigenous tribes living in the area, and we passed a couple of small villages on the way.

In 2003 a group of tourists walking this trail was kidnapped by guerrillas but all were released after 3 months. The Colombian army now patrols the region and there have been no incidents since.

The trek was harder than I thought it would be. I knew it would be tough for me and I can't remember a more physically difficult 5 days, but it was absolutely worth it. Our group consisted of a Swiss couple, an Aussie with his Canadian girlfriend, 2 Dutch, an Aussie girl, an English guy and a kiwi (me). We were lucky - it was a good group and we got on well enough that we all spent several more days together after the trek.

The first day we were taken by jeep into a town from where we would start the walk. Our guide was the least likely looking guide you could imagine. A short, stocky fella who told me he'd knocked back 15 beers the night before was to lead us through the jungle and back. He was a great and knowledgeable guy, and was happy to answer any questions along the way. Once you got him started, he was off. I sometimes wondered if he would simply stop functioning if he stopped speaking.

The going was pretty easy for the first couple of hours, and we had our first couple of river crossings, which we would become very familiar with in the coming days. After the 2nd crossing we had a huge uphill which seemed to go on forever, and the heat made life no easier, with no assistance from any breeze either. When we finally leveled out it was just a short walk along a ridge to our first camp for the night. We slept in hammocks and got to bed early in order to get up early for the 2nd day. There isn't much to do at night on this trek, but that's ok - after the exertion of the day, sleep is much higher on the priority list than entertainment.

The 2nd day we were out on the trail in the early morning light and soon hit our first big downhill, which when you've got knees like a 90 year old is actually harder going than the uphills. So I now found myself in the unusual position of craving uphills and grimacing at the prospect of the downhills. And because you go back the same way you came, you know that each big uphill you do today will be a big downhill in a couple of days....

There isn't any wildlife to speak of on this trail, and some say that, like life, the trek is more about the journey than the destination. The surroundings are spectacular. There may be no birds or monkeys but the forest is an explosion of greens and magnificent trees, mixed with some amazing panoramic views over the occasionally open hillsides. Even though we left early on the 2nd day, it didn't take long to get a good sweat up, and we were relieved to reach our first swimming spot. I was especially relieved as it was after an enormous downhill which had my knees questioning the wisdom of coming on the trek.

After a refreshing dip we carried on towards camp 2 and passed a couple of small indigenous villages on the way. Some kids were more than happy to sit for photos. I guess they still enjoy the innocence of not knowing what outsiders have meant to their way of life for as long as Europeans have been traveling. I can't say I blame the elders that we passed for the mistrust and resentment in their eyes. Like everyone I guess, they just want to be left alone to live their lives in peace, but the reach of empire and exploitation is long, and doesn't have much room for exceptions.

It was only another couple of hours before we reached the camp, and it had started raining which brought some relief from the heat. I liked sitting on the rocks in the light rain taking in the forest. It reminded me of some parts of the South Island of NZ.

The 2nd day we only walked about 4 hours so it was an early finish and we had a lot of time to kill. I was enjoying just looking at the forest and the shapes of trees poking out from time to time through the increasingly heavy rain. After some big uphills and downhills I was happy to get to bed and give my aching body a break.

After another early night, it was another early start to make our way to the final camp. The terrain on the 2nd day had been difficult, but the 3rd day was much easier. There were more of those river crossings but no big hills. We passed a unit of soldiers monitoring the surrounding mountains and shared a joke and a smoke with them. I guess they must enjoy the novelty of tourists coming through to give them a break from the tedium.

We'd hoped to be able to reach the 3rd camp and go straight to see the city in the afternoon, but the weather had closed in so we were stuck at camp for another long afternoon. We occupied ourselves with cards and banter and (randomly) popcorn which the camp had prepared, until it was time to get another early night.

Day 4 and we were up at sunrise to get up to the city in good time. It was a short walk to the start of the steps leading up to the city, and from there it got tough. The steps - 1,200 of them - are all different sizes and mostly slippery, and it was like a mega session on the stairmaster. Not that I have ever been on a stairmaster but I guess that's what it's like.

Some people say there's not much to see there but I thought it was spectacular. There weren't standing temples like Maccu Picchu has. In fact there are no original standing buildings, so it's very much the remains of a site, but I loved it. It's unlike anything I've seen before and you could still see how much of an endeavour it must have been to put this city together all those years ago, on a steep hillside, without the tools we have today.

As we arrived at the most photographed part of the city, ideal for a par 3, a helicopter landed and from it stepped the local shaman (the dude in the white in the picture below), with a film and sound crew in tow to do some sort of interview.

I understand he's supposed to spend most of his time in the highlands with the indigenous people, but rumour had it that he'd been in nearby Santa Marta for the previous couple of weeks getting pissed and shagging women. It was amusing and also a little sad that someone who's traditionally supposed to communicate with the spirit world, whether or not through the use of hallucinogenics, had turned into an out and out party animal. I had to admire his style rocking up in a chopper and doing a doco before probably heading back to Santa Marta to get back on it.

It was good that the helicopter was there. We could relax for a while in the sunshine waiting for them to do their thing before negotiating our way back down the slippery steps. The girls from our group went down and had a massive photoshoot with a bunch of soldiers who were stationed above the city and who guard it, so they weren't complaining either.

With the greatest of care - this is the last place you want to pick up an injury - we made our way down the steps and back to camp 3 for a quick lunch before powering on back to camp 2. As we approached the camp, a storm hit and the final river crossing was impossible, so our guide took us another way and across another swollen crossing. It was a good way to get the adrenaline going again at the end of a hard day and, combined with the satisfaction of having reached the city, had us all in high spirits. As did the rum the Dutch had brought with them.

There was also some sort of party the guides and locals were having in camp as well so it was a good atmosphere all round and a nice way to spend our final night. I've said that there isn't much in the way of wildlife on the trail, but the major exception to this are the insects. They're enormous and not very friendly looking. Some people kept finding huge bizarre looking things and consulting the guide on how dangerous they were. The diagnosis was usually that the insect in question was harmless enough, but the treatment was always a swift flip flop from the guide to the insect putting an end to the issue. We'd found a scorpion on the 3rd morning at the camp so we weren't assuming anything was safe.

The final day was to be the hard one. On the 5 day trek, which we did, you spend the final day walking from camp 2 all the way back to the start of the trail, so it's 7 hours up those downhills and down those uphills from before. You could easily do this trip in 4 days, by making it to what was our 3rd camp on day 2, and that way you wouldn't have as much time to kill on the 2nd and 3rd afternoon. There's also the option of a 6 day trek, which must drive you insane.

One of the girls had caught a virus so needed to ride a donkey back. I was lucky enough to be able to stick my bag on there, so it made the final day less painful for me. Still it was a great relief to get back to the start of the trail and trade our boots for flip flops again.

Would I recommend this trip? You bet. But make sure you have decent insect repellant, zip lock plastic bags, good footwear, good socks and enough of them. For once I was organised and had the right kit, and that might have made the difference between it being too tough for me and not. One of the guys walked the whole thing in a pair of Converse trainers - a great effort. There was one bit on the 3rd morning where we had to scramble around some riverside rocks, with nothing to break the fall and nothing to hold on to. It's probably too dangerous in fairness (they were fixing it shortly after we went through), and someone has apparently died on the trail before, so we thought it must be here. But the Converse shoes did the job for this guy. So, you can do it without all the kit but it's probably not the best idea, especially if you go in the rainy season.

This was one of the hardest things I've done, and I guess maybe that helped to make it one of the best as well.

PARQUE NACIONAL TAYRONA

After the exertions of the trek, a bunch of us headed over to the national park just outside of Taganga.

We trekked a couple of hours to get there (because we hadn't had enough) slept in hammocks (again) and enjoyed a relaxed couple of days. Like with Playa Blanca when I was in Cartagena, the beach was empty after the boat left in mid afternoon. It was just what the doctor ordered and I probably should have stayed there a little longer but it was getting time to leave the coast and head south.

SIMON BOLIVAR

I should mention in passing Latin America's most revered hero. Simon Bolivar was instrumental in fighting for the independence from Spain of Venezuela, Bolivia (which is named after him), Ecuador, Colombia and Peru. Statues of him appear in towns and cities throughout these countries and it's hard to imagine what life would have been like here now without his influence. He came to a hacienda in Santa Marta to die, of tuberculosis, aged only 47. To have achieved what he did at such a young age (he was younger than me when he took on the Spanish) is something to admire, and I liked going to the place he rested his head for the last time. I'm reading a book about him at the moment so may add a little more as I go...

Cartagena, Playa Blanca, Witches and Kidnapping

2010-03-04T23:54:00.002Z

From Medellin to Cartagena, the difference in price between a 17 hour bus ride and a 3 hour flight was only around 15 US dollars, so it was a fairly easy decision. Stepping off the plane, I immediately noticed the tropical heat - especially having not felt it for so long.

Cartagena de Indias, to give it its full name, is split between the old historical centre and the new city. The old town is full of beautiful colonial buildings and is now a UNESCO World Heritage site. This was the view from the balcony in my first hostel.

I'd met a guy on the plane - he was very patient to tolerate an hour of my rusty Spanish - who said there was a German bar/restaurant that had live music on Thursdays (the day I arrived) so I took some people from the hostel. It was an interesting and fun mix of Colombian music with AC/DC and other rock. Sorry Bob, they didn't have any Sabbath in their locker.

The old city was founded in 1533 and is named after a place from where many of the sailors for the founding commander Pedro de Heredia came in Spain. Almost from the start, its wealth and fame (owing to its importance as a centre for sailing precious metals from South America to Europe) attracted unwanted attention from invading armies and pirates, including an invasion by Sir Francis Drake. Spain poured money in to bolster its defences and constructed a system of walls around the city.

In the 17th century Spain continued strengthening the city's defences and constructed fortresses to repel land attacks, the most impressive being the Castillo San Felipe de Barajas, which still sits in a commanding position overlooking the city today.

Being on the Caribbean coast, there's more Afro influence here and you see women walking around with baskets of fruit on their head. The music is more Afro-Caribbean and there was a Cuban joint which was fun.

It's too hot and the sun is too strong to be walking around too much around midday, but it´s small enough that you can easily walk around in a couple of days, even allowing for a siesta.

The area most hostels are in is Getsemani, the poor area of the old town. It's chaotic and interesting, with men of all ages pushing enormous carts laden with all manner of produce and shouting out in competing monotone voices what they've got to offer. The downside is that at night there are a lot of prostitutes hanging around in the street with their pimps, and you get hassled constantly by drug dealers. A typical exchange, translated, runs like this:

"Hey amigo, what do you need?"
"Nothing, thank you"....keep walking.....
"But I'm the boss, I can get you the best cocaine, marijuana, girls, whatever" (with this many bosses it must be the flattest management hierarchy in the world)
"Really I'm fine, thank you. Good luck"..... keep walking.....
"I give you a good price and it's the best"
"Listen. I don't want anything, I don't need anything. Thank you. Good luck"....

At which point they finally leave you alone. So it's not aggressive, they don't push you up against a wall and make you buy anything or try to rob you, but it still gets on your tits after a while.

Taxis hurtle down the streets, beeping frantically as they go. This is necessary beeping, seeing as many locals amble out onto the street with almost total disregard for the odds of coming off better than a car if a collision should happen. Coming from a man who was hit by a car in London a couple of years ago, I admit this is strange for me to say.

In the evenings, the nicer part of the old city is full of people out enjoying an evening drink and listening to the cacophony of Caribbean music bursting forth from the city´s bars.

Inquest

I always got confused between the Spanish Conquest and the Spanish Inquisition, but have a better idea now. I will save a post on the Conquest until I'm in Peru. In terms of Inquisition, the Spanish set up tribunals or Inquisitions to question those suspected of witchcraft or other activities that might be offensive or a threat to catholicism. Two tribunals were set up in South America, one here in Cartagena. Anyone could throw a piece of paper with someone´s name written on it, anonymously, into the window of the building housing the tribunal. Anyone could cast allegations about others, so you´d imagine plenty of allegations were made to hurt business rivals or settle old scores. The list of questions they asked suspected witches is comical and worth reproducing here:

1. Since when have you been a witch?
2. Why did you become a witch?
3. How did you become a witch and what happened on that occasion?
4. Whom did you choose as your partner?
5. What is his/her name?
6. What is the name of your master amongst the evil spirits?
7. What is the oath that you have had to render to him?
8. How and under what terms have you done it?
9. What fingers did you have to rise?
10. Where did you celebrate your wedding?
11. What demons and people attended your wedding?
12. What foods did you eat?
13. How was it served on the table?
14. Where you also sitting down at the table?
15. What kind of music was played? What were the dances? Did you not dance?
16. Who was assigned as your partner at the ceremony?
17. What mark did your partner make you on your body?
18. What evils have you caused? To whom and how?
19. Why did you cause this evil?
20. How can it be remedied?
21. What kind of herbs, potions, and other means can be used to cure that curse?
22. To which children have you cast the spell of the "evil eye" and why have you done it?
23. What animals have you killed or put under a curse? And why have you done it?
24. Who are your associates for/in evil?
25. Why does the devil strike you blows at night?
26. How do you compose/prepare your ointment or witches' brews?
27. How can you fly through the air?
28. What words do you pronounce when you fly?
29. Are you flying so fast?
30. Who has taught you to fly?
31. What worms and caterpillars/slugs have you created?
32. What do you use to make these harmful/noxious animals (worms and caterpillars/slugs) and how are they created?
33. Has put the devil a bow/ribboon on to your curses/oaths?

The museum in Cartagena dedicated to the Inquest was interesting and kind of mind blowing as well. Some of the instruments of torture and death don't leave much to the imagination. It was interesting to see they used a form of what the CIA now cheerfully refer to as "waterboarding", and the fact that someone could be locked up by these Inquisitions on the basis of no evidence also reminds me of Guantanamo. So maybe in some ways we're still stuck in the dark ages.

Kidnapping & Terrorism

The bad reputation Colombia is trying so hard to shake off comes largely from its historical problem with guerilla warfare and kidnapping. In 1948 a populist Liberal politician was murdered, triggering consequences of staggering proportions. In the following decade, more than 200,000 people were killed in brutal civil conflict - La Violencia. In 1958 the Liberals and the Conservatives agreed to form a unity government to put an end to the conflict. However, many rural and peasant Colombians felt that the new setup was a continuation of what had gone before - a preservation of the status quo for wealthy Colombians, the influence of the United States and the loss of natural resources to multinationals - and following the end of La Violencia, government forces were attacking rural communities and carrying out state-backed murder on a horrific scale. The birth of guerilla movements to resist this ongoing violence was perhaps inevitable.

The FARC is the most infamous group and is still active, though there were more groups in the past. Initially concentrated only in rural areas in the east and southeast of Colombia, it grew steadily but slowly until the 80's. Having initially rejected participation in the narco trade, it recognised the funding potential to be had in processing and trafficking cocaine for consumption in the West. By the 1990s its numbers grew and it was fighting the government's forces in more areas, not just rural ones.

Since 2002, when President Uribe first took office, the FARC has been on the wane. Uribe ran on an anti-FARC platform, his own father having been killed in a kidnapping attempt. A combination of government actions and loss of popular support seem to have succeeded in marginalising the group, whose numbers are said to have fallen to around 11,000 members. There are, however, many prisoners still being detained by the FARC and other guerilla groups, and the number of minors fighting in these groups is estimated at around 30-40 per cent. It's impossible to tell whether they will continue to be marginalised and disintegrate, or whether this is just a period of calm. There are Presidential elections coming up so it will be interesting to see which direction things go.

Playa Blanca

Onto brighter things, a group of us caught a boat to a beautiful beach nearby - Playa Blanca ("White Beach"). We caught a cargo boat out there which was the customary shambles - all manner of people crammed in, while the boat's owner waited for yet more to be crammed in, along with bags, boxes and cartons of eggs, meat and other essentials. Playa Blanca relies on these boats to stock up from day to day. We finally set off for the 40 minute blast across the bay and to Barù where the beach is located. But the coastguard had other ideas and pulled us over to an area in the naval base, where everyone had to get out so that dogs could sniff the boat for drugs. They also sniffed a few of the passengers. It was amusing to see some people edging nervously away from the dogs. Given the all clear, we were back in the boat and finally got away to the beach.

It was worth the wait. Beautiful water and, like the name suggests, white sand. After the tourist boats left at around 4pm we had the place to ourselves. We slept in hammocks and ate fresh fish and chicken which was caught and prepared for us by the guy who ran the hammock place. It was as relaxed a place as it can get.

The weather wasn't so good the next day, so we came back to Cartagena to sort out some admin before heading further up the coast. I've been hanging out with a group of folks from Argentina and Chile, so it's helpful to practice my Spanish. When they talk slowly that is......

Medellin, Colombia

2010-02-20T23:04:00.014Z

Medellin, Colombia

After an early and uneventful flight from London to Madrid, the onward flight to Bogota wasn´t without drama. When the plane had reached altitude, there was a sudden loss of pressure and the plane nosedived, rapido, for several seconds. Some drinks hit the ceiling and anyone standing or not buckled in had to cling for dear life to the closest fixed object . My ipod and dictionary floated up past me and I had to pluck them from the air. With all the screaming I was thinking ¨so this is what it´s like to go down in a jumbo jet crash above the Atlantic" and for a moment there thought this would be my shortest ever trip, and my last. When I lived in Baghdad the flights in would always land in a steep corkscrew fashion to minimise the risk of being hit by rockets from below on a normal approach. But this altitude loss was a more frightening experience for me. I´d take Baghdad corkscrew landings over this any day.

It was a relief to arrive in Medellin at last. My hostel - the Black Sheep - is run by an expat kiwi, Kelvin, and very friendly and fun. It´s in the beautiful El Poblado neighbourhood and only a short walk from the Zona Rosa, full of bars, restaurants, and locals enjoying their weekend out in and around the square. There´s a police presence but they´re unimposing and sit in the background, and there´s no crime or street violence here. This is why Colombia´s cities are safer than many in South America and the world, and I can´t understand why it´s taking so long for Colombia to shake its bad rep from years past. When I was in Argentina, I met plenty of people who´d come through Colombia and raved about it, like I´ll be doing for the next 6 weeks and beyond. It won´t be long before this is regarded, rightly, as a compulsory stop on the Gringo Trail.

I studied some Spanish on the plane on the way over but it became counterproductive. The theory behind the language is confusing for me. I couldn´t tell you what a subjunctive verb is in English although I can speak it just fine. It´s a bit like learning a musical instrument - if you can play by ear then you don´t necessarily need to know how to read music or know the theory. I just need to practico mucho and I´ll be fine.

At around 1500m above sea level, the climate here is perfect. They call it the City of Eternal Spring, and it´s the perfect place to acclimatise after coming from the depths of a London winter. The temperature at night is perfect mid 20s and I´m so happy to be wearing flip flops again. I need to make the most of it - when I head north to the Caribbean coast it will be nudging 40 degrees.

It´s much bigger than I anticipated, but then with a population of 2.2 million - half of New Zealand´s - it should be no surprise. Still, it´s a very relaxed city and has a great feel to it. It reminds me a lot of Santiago in Chile, and not only because that was my first stop on my last South America trip. It´s a shame my brother Ed isn´t here to share this too, but he´ll be making me an uncle again in a few months so had a very valid sick note.

A weekend in Medellin is a totally worthwhile experience. On Saturday we went to a club called Mangoes which was packed and had shows with hot dancers and midgets. There were maybe 500 people in there of which no more than a dozen were gringos. Because the secret doesn´t seem to be fully out about Colombia yet, you get stared at sometimes but people are so friendly here.

Long overshadowed by the figure of its most famous former resident - Pablo Escobar - Medellin now seems a city with a strong social and cultural conscience. They´ve built a gondola system as an additional metro line to allow easier access to the centre for residents of the Santo Domingo slum in hills lining the city to the northwest. The botanical gardens were free to the public and full of locals enjoying a Sunday in the sunshine. We saw lots of people practising acrobatic moves, throwing girls into the air to do elaborate somersaults and twists before being caught. When Ed and I were in Santiago we saw people doing this as a form of busking at traffic lights. Maybe this is where they come to work on their game.

There´s a Colombian artist called Botero whose paintings and sculptures are always an obese expression, and there´s a great museum housing his truly prolific output.

The last couple of days in Medellin the weather turned a little so it was a good opportunity to try and study some more before I go north.

Ready to go again....

2010-02-14T15:25:00.000Z

At long last, it's time to find my passport, brush up on my Spanish and get ready to go back West. I've got Colombia, Ecuador, Peru, Bolivia, the northwest of Argentina and my beloved Buenos Aires in my sights. 100 days in which anything can happen.

London was great for 8 months while it was warm and there was lots going on. Ibiza was a nice touch too. But then it got cold. Man it's been cold. I haven't had a proper winter in 4 years so this was a big shock. There I was in BA a year ago, grimacing at news of the snow and subzero temperatures and feeling so smug to have missed it. Well, I've paid for my smugness and then some. In fairness if it wasn't so cold, and logical to hibernate, it would've been hard to save for this trip. As it was, it's been easy.

When I got to BA 14 months ago today, I'd been on the road for 5 months starting in eastern Europe so I was ready to drop anchor for a while. Now I've been in London 11 months I'm itching to get on the road, and there's a lot I already want to see. I can't help feeling this will be the real South America. The Pre- and Incan South America. With freshwater dolphins, jungle life, the Galapagos Islands and the world's highest cities.

Vamos!

Rio Part II. The end of the road. For now.

2009-03-04T11:10:00.003Z

I´m back in Rio for a few days before heading back to London, work and the real world. Paraty was relaxed which was just what the medico ordered. I was a bit crook there - maybe my body was telling me something. Maybe it was telling me I shouldn't have gone at it like that in Rio, but maybe it was telling me I shouldn't have stopped....

I decided to treat myself for my last 4 days back in Rio and checked into a sweet hotel with a pool on the roof and waiters that emphasise the bowing. I figured it would be good for me to relax for a few days before heading back to work.

Corcovado has a commanding view over Rio, and since 1931 has been home to the iconic statue of Christ the Redeemer. At 130 feet tall and 98 feet wide, it's almost the biggest of its kind and took 9 years to complete. A cable car takes you to the top and back, full of tour group cameras madly clicking away as if the tour group's life depended on it, each click presumably being barely different from the last.

The views from Corcovado can be a bit hit and miss depending on how hazy it is. And it's usually hazy.

On one side towards the Macarana stadium was really hazy but on the other side, towards Ipanema and Copacabana was clearer.

Sugarloaf also has amazing views of the city and its beaches and hours passed quickly taking it all in. The sun set in a line back towards Corcovado which was pretty special.

The night lights are something too. It must be amazing to be a pilot and see the city lights in a night landing in Rio.

It's a city of contrasts, as cliched as that might sound. Like many big cities all over the world, there's an uncomfortable coexistence of uber wealth and desperate poverty. And with that comes plenty of crime. All of this set among one of the most stunning cities you can imagine.

There are birds with big wingspans that ride the thermal currents all over Rio, and you can spend ages watching them at Corcovado and Sugarloaf. I tried to get all National Geographic on them.

And like one of these I'll be taking to the air tonight back to London. It´s been an amazing few months so I can´t complain. I never made it to Bolivia, Peru or Colombia, but they´ll all be here for next time. I loved Argentina and of course BA. Patagonia was stunning and seeing it with my brother made it even better, and I ended up having a great time in Rio too. I'll miss good cheap steak and wine, the nightlife - la nocturna, being surrounded by different languages and las mujeres. I'll miss the lazy evenings and the big nights too.

But, as you do, I'm already thinking of next time.

Carnaval!

2009-02-28T14:52:00.002Z

I ended up being stuck in BA for a further week, which wasn´t all bad. Got to see my friends a little longer and do some things I never got round to before.

I flew from BA to Rio, and was supposed to fly to Colombia for a few days but when I went to check in at Rio for my Colombia flight, they had no record of my booking. It was a good thing - as soon as I thought I'd booked my flight to Colombia, it struck me that forking out so much to have only 10 days there was no good idea. So it was a relief. And being stuck in Rio for Carnaval turned out to be fantastic.

To my surprise, I managed to find a hostel online from the airport. To no surprise, they'd crammed the punters in for Carnaval. Lining the walls of my dorm were hazardous looking 4 decker bunks, and air from the overworked and ancient fan in my dorm didn't reach my bed on the bottom level. And if I thought my room in BA was hot..... If you want to lose weight in your sleep, this is the place for you. Sleep wasn't too high on my agenda for the next few days, so no problema. The location was great - Ipanema. I'm not sure whether I saw the legendary Girl From Ipanema, On that section of the beach there were however plenty of Gays From Ipanema.

The word Carnaval is derived from carne (meat) and levare (raise), and owes its origin to the traditional practice (for some) during Lent of giving up meat. Nowadays, from what I gather, it's customary (for some) to give something up for Lent, whether that be a specific meat, red or white meat, meat in general or something totally unrelated to meat. Whatever, when you know you're going without something you're not used to going without, for 40 days, you have a blowout. Rio's is by no means the only festival. Salvador's is said to be better, and it's celebrated all over Brazil and throughout South America.

My friend Laura works for a tour company in London and they had a group in Rio as part of their tour around South America. A big group and a BIG party. Hard as it was to match the fun I had in BA, this was pretty out there. Rio´s a crazy city during Carnaval and a shock to the system after BA. I had a great time here but I don't know if I'd come back. On my first night, Laura and I were robbed as one guy stood over us with a broken bottle and his mates went through our pockets and emptied them. There was no point getting sliced or worse for the sake of a few bucks, and it happens. This is Rio at Carnaval. A lot of Cariocas get out for Carnaval, while there's a temporary influx of criminals and opportunists from outside the city. A hostel down the road from Laura´s hotel was taken over by a gang with guns and grenades and all the guests were made to open their safes and relieved of all their valuables. Apparently there were 3 places in Copacabana that had the same thing. Mental. In that context, for us it wasn´t so bad.

All the neighbourhoods have street parties ("blocos") all day, dancing and drinking and the occasional truck inching down the street blaring out music. The thing Rio´s Carnaval´s best known for is the Sambadrome, which is a huge competition involving teams from all different samba schools who design costumes and elaborate floats, some of them staggering in size. The samba schools spend months putting these together and working on their outfits and moves.

It´s an incredible spectacle and exceeded anything I thought might be the deal here. Our stand was at the end of where the procession finishes, and at the end of the parade all the performers ditch their costumes, so for the next couple of days and nights you see gringos all over the place in these weird costumes.

There is of course more to Rio than Carnaval. I'm getting some much needed sleep, going to Paraty to relax and recover for a few days, and coming back to see the sights before I go back to London.

Stranded!

2009-02-12T17:52:00.001Z

It had to happen some time, but the timing was pretty bad. I was due to fly to Rio last night and on to Bogota in Colombia this morning. Checked out of my hostel yesterday morning and went to an internet place to write to my brother, and while I was there someone took my bag from under my seat. Inside it were my passports among other things, so I´m stuck in BA until I can get a passport replaced.

Getting a police report was harder than it needed to be - the police stations keep trying to pass you off by claiming it falls just outside their jurisdiction, but eventually I found one that gave me a report thanks to my amiga Valeria, whose Spanish is perfect. The Embassy said I should have a replacement in 4 days which is pretty impressive. So I might get to see some of Colombia after all, and for now if I could pick any city in the world to be stranded in, BA would probably edge it.

Having my valuables stolen was and is an arse, but it's only stuff, and I´m more pissed off about my notes than anything. But I´d expected something like this to happen to me at some point on this trip, and at least I wasn't knifed or anything. And at least my wallet wasn´t in my bag, then I really would have been totally screwed...

Iguazu Falls

2009-02-09T09:50:00.002Z

So finally I struck out on my own again and took a bus for the first time in 7 weeks. It´s weird to be travelling again and being solo again. It was around 17 hours north on the bus, and again it was comfortable and easy to sleep (though it would have been easier if I´d taken the trouble to get up and go for a piss when I started needing to. Why do we ever think we can win?)

Iguazu Falls sits on the border between Brazil and Argentina, on the river Rio Iguazu. You access the falls from Foz do Iguacu in Brazil or Puerto Iguazu in Argentina. My hostel was on the Argentine side. I pulled into town at lunch time and headed straight to the hostel for a swim. I didn´t get up to much for the rest of the day as it was too hot to be getting up to much.

I woke up early after a mammoth sleep and took the bus to go and see the Brazilian side of the Falls. From that side you get a more panoramic sight whereas on the Argentine side there are more walks close up. On the way to Brazil there was an Irish lad and his English girlfriend on the bus. You get out to get passports stamped into Brazil, but when we emerged from the passport control building the bus had gone. It was no big deal for me as I thought I had to change buses there for the falls. These guys had left their backpacks on the bus as they were pushing onward with their travels and weren´t on a day trip. We jumped in a cab and went in search of the bus, but it was too far ahead. We pegged it to the city of Foz do Iguacu, where the bus was headed, and somehow found it, and their bags. Luck of the Irish...

I don´t think anything could have prepared me for my first view of the Falls. I´d seen pictures, but there´s something about being there that leaves you in awe. You hear them before you see them and there´s an elevated walkway which comes out to one of the heaviest flows of the Falls - the "Devil´s Throat" or "Garganta del Diablo" - where a further platform juts out to give you a better view close up.

There are 275 waterfalls spread out over a 2.7 km stretch of the river, two thirds of them within Argentina, and the Devil´s Throat is the point where Brazil meets Argentina. At the moment Iguazu has the highest average water flow of any waterfall in the world, though at peak flows it loses in a flow-off to Victoria Falls. When something combines this much power and beauty, you have to admire it. I was looking forward to getting to the Argentine side in the next couple of days.

Next day I went on a tour styling itself "a day in the jungle". It involves a walk through some jungle, where the guide tells you a little about some of the trees and shows you some of the traps that the Gurani used to trap animals of various sizes. Next up we did a rock climb, then a zip-line, climbed up a rope ladder, to another zip-line, then an abseil to finish. It was fun and would have been fairly taxing anytime, but we did all this in a tropical storm which made it pretty tasty. I remember looking through the swinging rope ladder at a raging river as I was climbing up, and wondering what the fuck I was doing. After that they took us on a boat trip along the Rio Iguazu to the confluence of that and the Rio Parana. This is where Brazil, Argentina and Paraguay meet. It was a shame the weather was so bad; that part of the tour you needed sunshine to make it better.

On the Argentine side, you get up close and personal with the falls. My mate Toby introduced me to a phrase on our roadie in NZ for when you see something there aren't enough words to describe: "reach for your thesaurus..." and it was very much a case of "reach for your thesaurus" here. If there were a paradise on earth, it would look a lot like this.

There were a few big lizards running around, with those exaggerated limb movements like a child who hasn´t yet learned to run properly. There are all sorts of mad butterflies but they don´t sit still long enough to make good models.

And some interesting birds, this one looks really evil... Check the eyes...

It´s a magical place. You wouldn't want to lean over too far though. I swear I read recently about a guy falling in and surviving by sheer fluke. When you get up close you really get a sense of the volume of water moving through the falls. It isn´t just the noise, you can see how much water is rushing through. Have a look at the video clips below to see what I mean.

Last night I got back on that 17 hour bus and came back to BA for a couple of days. It´s my birthday tomorrow so I wanted to spend that with friends rather than on the road. On Wednesday I´m off to Colombia for 3 weeks before I head back to London.

Here´s a few sights in BA I haven´t put in the blog yet....

This is Casa Rosada (literally translated as "Pink House") or the Presidential Palace. From the balcony here presidents have addressed crowds in the past and it´s where Eva Peron did likewise famously.

This street - Avenida 9 de Julio ("9th of July". being Independence Day) - is said to be the widest street in the world. As with any claim to fame like this (usually it's a city claiming it has the biggest shopping mall, as if that's something to be proud of), this might or might not be true.

Don't get me wrong, it's fricking wide. With 16 lanes to cross, the signs even tell you to run, not walk:

In the middle sits one of BA´s most recognisable and iconic landmarks, the Obelisk ("Obelisco"). It was completed in 1936 to commemorate the 400th anniversary of the founding of BA. It sits where the Argentine flag was first driven into the soil of this city. When Boca won the football league just before Christmas it was going mental here. Apparently it´s a bit of a spot to be when people´s teams win big matches, be it club or country.

Whenever you buy a paper, you´d likely buy it from one of these newspaper stands.

You never have to walk far, there must be 3 or 4 on every block of the bigger streets. They also tend to boast such glamorous titles as

Moving on from BA

2009-01-29T21:30:00.001Z

I´ve been here around 6 weeks now and had a fantastic time. I´ve been lucky enough to meet a good crowd of people and have many, many fun nights out. My liver´s probably not as happy with the place as I´ve been, but such is life. This week I´ve had a couple of quiet nights in to try and get my body clock sorted out so I can be awake in the afternoons to get things sorted. It´s been a complete failure - I´ve been getting to sleep later than I would if I´d been out. My room´s so hot! My advice to you if you should find yourself here in January and February is to make air conditioning a Must Have......

So for the next few nights I´ll be out again, partly because (honest) I´ll get better sleep that way but also because these next few nights will be my last in BA.

It´s been interesting talking to the locals ("Portenos") about their city. They´re intelligent, relaxed, friendly and fun people, at least the ones I´ve met. But when you talk to them about what it´s like for them living and working here, almost without exception they´re really down on the place. They tell me making a living´s hard, the government´s fucked and the police are corrupt. I can see what they mean, and some or all of those criticisms apply to many places, but that doesn't help the problem.

Inflation is a big problem here, with prices rising much faster than salaries, which is always a recipe for social unrest if played out over a long period of time. It reminded me of so many of the eastern European countries I saw which got burned by the IMF and still bear the scars.

Argentina had a painful period of military junta rule from 1976 until 1983. During this period aggressive economic reforms were pushed through (as they had been by Pinochet in Chile not much earlier), and Argentina´s "Dirty War" played out, with leftist and opposition groups being "disappeared" - 30,000 people snatched from the streets and tortured, and often killed or never heard from again. That kind of relatively recent history is bound to leave traces of mistrust and cynicism among a population. So in a way it´s amazing that people are as friendly as they are, even if just superficially.

Where next for me? I was thinking of going to Rio for Carnaval but checked hostel prices yesterday and they're pretty steep. In any case I fly back to London from Rio so I´ll get to get see it. So I´ll go to Iguacu Falls next week, come back for my birthday and take it from there.

I´ll probably end up in a float in the Carnaval and wake up with a sore arse and no kidneys.

Punta del Este

2009-01-23T21:41:00.001Z

After another big night we left BA at the crack of dawn and got a 3 hour ferry to Montevideo, and a 2 hour bus from there to Punta del Este. Having had no sleep to speak of, we were pretty shattered so we got to our (not very) luxurious hotel and slept all day.

Our room must be around the smallest twin room in the world. We affectionately called it the match box as it wouldn´t make the grade of a shoe box. Not that it's on my to-to list, but there wasn't enough room to swing a cat.

Got up a bit groggy and went in search of a place for eats and drinks before a club. We took advice from the dude at hotel reception and took a map from him to help us on our way. The area we were after was only around 6 blocks away, by the port. So we left the hotel and started walking..... and kept walking..... and walking.... and decided that the map was a bit misleading.... and kept walking..... until we thought we might try and catch a bus. Another guy was waiting for the bus too, so we showed him the map and asked where we were. We were on the completely wrong side of town, half way to an area called La Barra on the end of the peninsula. So we crossed the road to try and catch a taxi or bus, but none came so it was an hour´s walk back the way we´d come. It was harder to get it that wrong than it would have been to get it right.

Eventually we got back to town and had some food and a laugh about our self inflicted misfortune and duly headed to the port.

A year ago we´d been to Thailand and happened to be there the same time all the Aussie school kids finish their final year and jump on a plane to Thailand to get wasted for a week. This area was strangely reminiscent of that. It was weird - I expected there to only be people around our age here but in the port area we were like granddads. Again.

Had a couple of beers until the sun came up, dropped into a cafe for breakfast on the way home. Good eggs.

Next day we decided we´d try out a club we´d heard about called Crobar, in La Barra. So we got a bus out to La Barra (or somewhere close to it) and had a few looseners at a quiet bar. We asked the waiter where Crobar was and he told us it had closed for the season. I heard the best time for parties in Punta runs from Christmas to the 2nd week of January so it was a shock to hear that "best time" was really "only time" and it goes from all on to absolutely nothing overnight. We´d missed it altogether. I think crestfallen's the word. So we were fed up with Punta at this point. Nobody our age and no clubs. Full of shit apartment blocks and schoolies.

So we went for an empanada and considered our options, and decided we´d head back to BA early. There was another bar we´d heard about, so we decided to head there and see, on the off chance, if it was any good. And it was. Real good. We tucked into the cocktails. The crowd was still younger than us, but at least not schoolies. We invented a cocktail consisting of champagne and coke. In BA a few nights before, Jason ordered a Jim Beam and Coke and was given a champagne and coke. The bargirl was looking at him kind of funny, on reflection. But anyway, it´s actually a tasty beverage. So it´s France meets the US, and we called it a Sarkozy Obama.

I'm not sure if anyone ever told me how beautiful Uruguayans are but that was a well guarded secret. I forgot to get my camera out for the most part because I was just staring open mouthed at the local beauties.

So Punta came good in the end, but if we hadn´t found that bar I´d have had a very different experience of the place. Maybe I'll try going during that now-apparent very fixed window...

....and Buenos Aires keeps entertaining...

2009-01-20T15:10:00.001Z

Man, what a place. I´ve been having a blast here every night since new year. I continued lessons for a couple of weeks, in those afternoon classes, and they were pretty good. I´ve finished now as I have learned all I´d reasonably need to know for the rest of my time here, and just need to practice that. If I was going to be in South America for longer I´d probably take more classes and work a bit harder at it generally, but it´s not necessary and I´ve paid enough out on classes already. I still get compliments sometimes on the amount I can speak and understand in the time I´ve been learning, so that´s encouraging.

Buenos Aires (literally, Good or Fair Winds) is the 3rd biggest city in South America, which makes it pretty damn big. In 1536 a port was founded where the district of San Telmo now stands, called Santa María del Buen Aire, which translates as "Our Lady of the Fair Winds"). The indigenous folks, naturally, didn't take kindly to the newcomers and attacked the settlement, which was abandoned by the would-be settlers in 1541. Then in 1580 Juan de Garay sailed down the Parana River from Paraguay and successfully re-established the place. He kind of kept the former name, but opted for the elaborate Ciudad de la Santísima Trinidad y Puerto de Santa María del Buen Aire. Try saying that ten times fast. It translates as "City of the Most Holy Trinity and Port of Saint Mary of the Fair Winds" but inevitably good sense prevailed within 100 years, bringing the more convenient name we use today.

The city's divided into barrios. There's the microcentro, which is far from micro but undoubtedly centro, and is where I live in the heart of BA. To the north is Recoleta, another busy commercial area but not as intense, and with a few tourist attractions, and beyond that Palermo, more affluent with wider streets, bigger parks, nicer bars and beautiful people, in both the positive and negative sense. On the western side of microcentro is artsy San Telmo, where I spend many lazy evenings before the big nights, in Plaza Dorrego sipping the local beer - Quilmes - and sometimes spying on the tango dancers. Puerto Madero is like a big dockside development where lots of office workers go after work to unwind. South of centre is colourful La Boca, home to the famous Boca Juniors that Diego Maradona played for. Those are just a few central ones, there are many more but these are the areas you're more likely to come across. There's areas within areas too, like the street that's got a cluster of Irish bars. The Guinness costs almost double what it does in Dublin or even London but it tastes soooo goooooooood.......

The apartment continues to entertain. This is the view from my bed......

And this is the view from my balcony.....

I´ve had a little luck with the girls here too. I wasn´t sure whether it was just a myth that they like western guys but from what I´ve seen it´s true. One in particular I´ve been seeing a fair bit of the last few days and I´ll miss her when I do decide to move on.

My mate Jason from NZ is here for a few days, so we´ve been hitting it pretty hard and having plenty of fun. Tomorrow we´re off to Punta del Este, in Uruguay, for 4 days. It´s supposed to be like the Ibiza of South America and it´s where loads of models and princesses hang out, so it should be, uh, interesting.

After that Jase will head back to the Caymans, where he´s working, and I´ll need to start getting my head and body together for life back on the road. I´ll probably have another 2 weeks in BA and plan a little more. After that I might go to Rosario for a few days, then check out Iguazu Falls and then push up into Brazil towards Rio for Carnaval. Not that that´s gonna be a massive party or anything.....

Christmas and New Year in B.A.

2008-12-27T18:44:00.002Z

Feels like it´s been a busy time. And it has. And it gets harder to update this the longer I leave it. I moved into the apartment, in the city centre, sharing with a girl from Colombia, and guys from Germany and England. I took some Spanish lessons at a school in town, just a few blocks from the apartment. I had group lessons the first week but there were only 2 of us in the beginners class. The first couple of days we were going over stuff I already knew from my time traveling here so that was pretty slow. My second night in the apartment, after my first day of school, I was out with my flatmate and a mate of his from Germany. That somehow turned into a 5am finish without there being much going on.

The next night I went to the final of the football playoffs here. In Argentina, at the end of the season if there´s more than one team on the same points at the top of the league, they have a playoff to determine the champions - goal difference doesn´t come into it. This year, for the first time ever, there were 3 teams on the same points, so there were 3 playoffs between Boca, Tigre and San Lorenzo, all held on neutral ground at Racing´s stadium. I didn´t go to either of the first 2 but this was the final, between Boca and Tigre. What an experience.

I never thought I´d find myself at a championship final in South America, but the spectacle was what I'd hoped to see. For safety reasons they didn´t sell the ground out, and there were only 30,000 or so in the crowd, but they made the noise of a full crowd. Especially the Tigre fans, who were far outnumbered by the Boca section but who sometimes drowned the Boca support out. It was their first time challenging for the title and you could see (and hear) how much it meant to them. They were up against it - following the other playoff results, Tigre needed to beat Boca by 2 goals to be champions. Boca could draw or lose by 1 goal and still win the title. So the game needed a Tigre goal to make things interesting.

And it came, but with only 25 minutes remaining. It was a frenetic finish to the game but Tigre couldn´t add another, and Boca took the title. We wanted Tigre to win, as their fans were better and Boca get all the kudos anyway, but being in the Boca section when they won the league was amazing. A pissed local tried to rob one of our group of his camera when we were leaving but he was swiftly dealt with.

After the football we went to a house party way out in the sticks. We didn´t get back until 5 again and I slept through my alarm, so missed my classes. I was pretty pissed off with myself so needed to find a way to go to bed earlier last week. It didn´t happen. Morning classes should be banned here. This is a late night city and you want to get out and experience it, so in hindsight afternoon classes would have been a way better idea.

We had no classes on Christmas Day, so we went round to some Colombian friends apartment in the San Telmo neighbourhood. Their apartment was amazing, on the top floor of a converted old mansion block, with a big balcony overlooking the city. At midnight there were fireworks going off all over the city, so you could sometimes see some splashes of colour in the sky and the noise was like downdown Baghdad on a bad day. People don´t usually go out to late bars and clubs until 2am here, but on Christmas that gets even later. We went out at 4 to a club and it was heaving with the people there to see a live band. I called stumps early and was home by 8.

Boxing Day I had classes again and think I made them. Then was the weekend so we met up with a big crowd and went to Palermo to a bar, club and after party til 10 on Sunday. Another night out in San Telmo on the Sunday which again was something like 7am but I made it to my class. Last week I was the only person in my class. It would have been a good opportunity to make a lot of progress on my Spanish but between xmas and new year was amazing here. Again out every night until day. We were going to try to have a quiet night on the 30th to save it for new years eve but after my class I met up with a bunch of people and we ended up going for a walk around the cemetery in Recoleta and having a big night again.

I missed classes again on New Years Eve and slept most of the day. That night we went to my old hostel in Palermo for an asado (barbeque) til around 1 or 2 then headed to a loft party which was really good and reminded me a lot of some parties I´ve been to in London.

I´ve met a lot of people in the last 3 weeks. The locals have really surprised me too. After liking Santiago so much, I thought they might be a bit cold here but they're nothing like it. They want to know your story and they´re supportive when you´re trying to speak Spanish and making a hash of it. I haven´t been working so hard on my Spanish the last week but a lot of people I met are on the road again for a few weeks so I´ll change school to afternoon lessons closer to home and hopefully get back on track again. And I´ll continue going out and chatting to locals, as that's the fastest way to learn. Besides, a language can reveal something bigger about the people who speak it, so you learn more than just the Spanish translation of English words.

Pictures to follow, and more about the city, the language, and a potted history of Argentina.

Happy New Year!

Back in the city

2008-12-19T18:33:00.002Z

I said my goodbyes to Ed and Mum on Sunday and flew back to BA. It was hard saying goodbye to Ed after such a good time the last few weeks.

The first couple of nights in BA I stayed at a hostel in the city centre, but wasn't interested in swapping life stories, so I just used those 2 days to adjust to being on my own again and getting a feel for the city. Then I moved to a hostel in the Palermo neighbourhood, not too far from where we stayed last time. The hostel was fantastic. The other place in the city I found too big, but this one was perfect, a nice size with big balcony, barbies, good recommendations for nights out, really nice staff and other guests.

Today I went and looked at an apartment in the city centre sharing with some other people. Great room and the other people seem nice too. A German guy, a girl from Colombia and I think another kiwi guy is moving in too. So hopefully I can get a reasonable rent on that and move in.

I also enrolled at a language school yesterday, starting next week. I´m excited about learning some lingo. No doubt you can get more out of a place if you know the language, and if I go to other countries after this it'll be essential to be able to know more than how to count to ten, order a beer, and (for reasons known only to language teachers) observe that the cat is on the table.

Went to a couple of awesome places this week as well, on Wednesday we went to a tango music show, which was 4 guys sitting on chairs playing accordians, and behind them 4 guys playing violins, and others playing cello and double bass with bows, plus piano and occasional vocals. A very cool and unique show, as the place being packed out would suggest. Last night a bunch of us went to a good little club, which had dancers and drag queens knocking around, pretty funny. Good music too. We got back to the hostel when it was getting light and there were heaps of people still up or getting back, sitting on the balcony chatting.

Today I moved to another hostel closer to town, which I´d booked thinking of using it as a base to check out various neighbourhoods and find an apartment I like. But having found one already, I may as well have stayed in Palermo.

South America #3 - El Calafate & Ushuaia

2008-12-15T00:21:00.001Z

7 December: Buenos Aires - El Calafate
Seeing as we were heading 2,000 km south (and then a further 1,000 afterwards) Ed and I opted for a flight. That took around 3 hours, which gives an idea of how big this country is - BA isn´t anywhere near as far north as you can get and El Calafate is 1,000 km from the furthest south. So sitting on a bus, lovely as they are, for a day or 2 didn´t seem like a great idea.

El Calafate´s claim to fame is that it´s where you spring from to go and see the Perito Moreno glacier. Apart from that it doesn´t have a great deal going on. In the winter the town clears out and all the seasonal workers head elsewhere, leaving the clutch of local residents behind.

The glacier itself is quite a sight. An incredible blue colour - depending on the angle of the sun you see every shade of blue imaginable - and enormous. While most of the world´s glaciers are receding, this one is stable, advancing some 2m every day. Huge chunks of ice fall off the face of the glacier (called "calving") which is an amazing spectacle. You can hear the creaking and groaning as the ice at the face weakens and begins to tear away from the body of the glacier, and when the chunks calve into the water they hit the surface with an almighty sound.

There are 2 faces of the glacier, forming an "L" shape as it reaches Lago Argentgina.

This is the "South" face...

... but most of the calving action happens at the North face:

The "terminus" of the glacier, to give it the apparently correct name, is 5km wide, with an average height of 60m. At its deepest, the glacier has a depth of 700m. We took a boat out towards the North face to get a better look. It was a kind of optical illusion. The boat takes you 300m from the North face. Ed and I didn´t think we were anything like 300m away, or that the face looked anything like 60m high, but when we went to the lookout you could see that must be right. From the lookout the boats look tiny against the glacier, and tend to position themselves with their ass toward the glacier, presumably so they can get out of there sharpish if a huge chunk calves off unexpectedly.

We were looking at the North face from the lookout after lunch and I saw a massive tower of ice that looked a bit precarious. We thought no more of it and turned to head off down the walkway, when that same tower calved off and crashed into the lake. Cheers and whistles went up, and we turned to see the huge splash created by it. It was like an impossibly fat man had bombed off the top of the face. We didn´t have our cameras out in time to catch it, which was a shame, but Ed got this picture of the afters from another calving (thanks Ed!)

Bosh!

I also got a wee video of another small bit that fell off. Not very exciting but what the hell.

In other exciting news, I discovered the "take pictures of small stuff" feature on my camera so no doubt I´ll be taking pictures of all sorts of random shit now...

10 December: El Calafate - Rio Gallegos
Lago Argentina is apparently the biggst lake in Argentina and the 3rd biggest in South America. It´s a brilliant turquoise colour in parts and a magnificent sight when compllemented by the mountainous backdrop. This was the view from the back of the bus as we left El Calafate:

Rio Gallegos was just a place for us to break up the trip to Ushuaia for a night and get some admin done.
12 December: Rio Gallegos - Ushuaia

The bus from Rio Gallegos to Ushuaia was the least pleasant travel experience we´d had in Argentina, but still wasn´t all that bad. There were several stops for police to board the bus and inspect everyone´s passports. Which seemed totally unnecessary, given the geography (see the map above) meant we had to pass through the border into Chile for a while, and then back into Argentina further south, and go through all the attendant border control procedures. The first border post out of Argentina was probably the most disorganised setup I´ve ever seen. If you´re dead set on smuggling contraband into Chile from Argentina, this is surely the place to do it.

While in the Chilean part of the sandwich we crossed the Magellan Strait on this bad boy.

Which was nice. Actually it was, there were some of these kicking around:

And so late doors we got about as far south in the world as it´s possible to get by road. Ushuaia´s a pretty cool and odd little place. In the arly 1970s the population was around 7,000 but now it´s nearly 10 times that. It´s debatable whether in fact it is the southernmost city in the world, but it´s done a good job of marketing itself as such. Chile´s Puerto Williams is further south still, and amusingly calls itself "Más alla del fin del mundo" (farther even than the end of the world).

Our first day we went for a wander from the top of a chairlift up to what is supposed to be a glacier, but there was no sign of one. Whatever, it was a nice hike and the views back down over Ushuaia weren´t too shabby.

The next day our mum arrived so we hired a car and went for a drive to a lake we´d passed on our way into Ushuaia and another road round the bay.

I saw a sign that cracked me up. This guy looks like he´s doing a dance my mate Fraser pulls out every now and again, the Anti-rhythm. I thought he also looked like a lego man. And camp. (Not Fraser, the dude in the sign.)

The following day we went to the nearby Tierra del Fuego National Park. There are allegedly beavers there, and we did see a few dams, but sadly no beavers. Or beaver. I thought the park was a letdown, there wasn't much wildlife on show, beavers or otherwise. We had a nice feed at a fancy restaurant that night as it was mum´s birthday. What a random place to have it.

My final day down south took us to see some wildlife that made up for the lack of it in the park. Plenty of sea lions on a rock, in the middle of shagging season. Nearly saw a couple of fights between males, it was like being at Brannigans in Reading on a Friday night.

And the highlight for me were these cute little fellas, Megellanic penguins. Funny to see them waddling around on the each but boy can they swim fast. Like little torpedoes they were.

"excuse me sir, would you like to try the house white?"

So that´s a wrap for the south for me. Back up to BA and the end of my trip with Ed. It´s been a fantastic few weeks with him and it´ll be strange to be back on my own again. He and Mum are off to Antactica tomorrow for xmas, so I hope they have a sweet time and see some amazing things. Next post from me will be in BA.

South America #2 - Bariloche, Puerto Madryn & Buenos Aires (1)

2008-12-07T23:40:00.001Z

25 November: Mendoza - Bariloche

Our first longer distance bus trip saw us head 17 hours south and it wasn´t too bad at all. Enough leg room to be able to sleep, plus 2 (bad) movies, dinner, breakfast, lunch and a game of bingo as we neared Bariloche. Which was encouraging, as the numbers being in Spanish didn´t present any problems. Maybe there´s hope yet.

We took Ruta 40, which is Argentina´s Route 66, eventually taking the 7 Lakes Road into Bariloche, in Nahuel Huapi National Park and at the foot of a lake bearing the same name, all of which is in the north west of the Argentine side of Patagonia. We left when night was falling but when day broke the next day the scenery was stunning. The lay of the land and the water alongside the course of the 7 Lakes Road was what I imagine bits of North America must look like.

We had a very chilled out hostel, right on the lake. The town itself is a fairly standard mountain town - kind of unremarkable except for being not exactly cheap. It's surprising how much it´s costing in Argentina so far. All the hype about this country being dead cheap may have been true 3 or 4 (or especially 10) years ago, but not now. And especially not in Patagonia.

Bariloche´s even got a Pacha but it wasn´t opening until the height of the high season, so we made do with another ludicrously over-priced place to drink.

The area surrounding Bariloche is loaded with stunning lakes and mountains, some shared with Chile. We wanted to kayak down a nearby river, but apparently the national park authorities were restricting the number of concessions to operators to offer kayaking which made it too expensive. So we hired a car for a couple of days and, assisted by some locally sourced produce, headed to the hills for a couple of mini roadie day trips.

(not the car we hired)

It´s amazing how similar much of this area is to some of NZ, about the only giveaway that you´re not in NZ is the absence of ferns. Which, on reflection makes sense, as NZ split off from what is now Argentina before the continents split apart and took shape. The major exception to this similarity was a black glacier, which had some of the most bizarre landscape and colours I´ve ever seen.

The bits that break off float around in a milky coloured lake at the foot of the glacier, creating an enormous milkshake with ice cubes to scale, before eventually melting away into the river beyond.

29 November: Bariloche - Puerto Madryn

After Bariloche, we headed cross-country, to the east coast of Patagonia. Not the sort of place you'd expect there to be a Welsh heritage, but this area's got heaps of it from way back.

Puerto Madryn sits by the Península Valdés, which is apparently a bit of a hangout for whales and penguins. I'm convinced there's a global cartel operating, so any arrangement where passengers get in a regular boat and head a little way off the coastline to see whales surfacing for a few seconds, should be really expensive. Do these people actually pay the whales? Have the whales formed a union? We didn't go to see whales.

Apparently at some times during the year you can see them from the beach (maybe this is their equivalent of a free sample) but we weren't there at the right time.

what a whale might look like

There didn't seem to be a great deal else going on in Puerto Madryn, but the beach is nice enough and we went to an Ecoparque too, which was a museum giving all sorts of interesting information about local wildlife.

2 December: Puerto Madryn - Buenos Aires

So after our northern Patagonia jaunt it was time for the bright lights. I didn't know how I would react to Buenos Aires (or BA as everyone seems to call it) after enjoying Santiago so much, but I was looking forward to dipping my toe in.

Where do I start? It's a fantastic city. We were staying in an apartment in one of the wealthier suberbs - Palermo - which had everything we needed within a 5 minute walk. Wide, uncrowded streets, clean, and loaded with parks and trees, good places to eat, and beautiful women.

Our first afternoon saw us take a walk from Palermo to a neighbouring, also well-heeled area, Ricoleta. First stop was the most bizarre cemetery I've seen. They don't have simple grave stones here, but elaborate sarcophagi in which the dead are interred. The great and the good are buried here - former presidents, heads of trade unions (no whales, mind), military heroes etc, but the most popular one is where you'll find Eva Peron, aka Evita. From there we wandered to a nearby park which was very relaxed, and then an art museum containing some Rembrandts and various other old and new works, which was also pretty cool.

Day 2 and we were off to San Telmo, which is a fairly touristy, bohemian area. It used to be where the rich folks lived, but years ago disease pushed many of those who could afford it further out to Palermo, and the massive houses they occupied were subdivided into apartments. Again the streets we saw gave an impression of being relaxed and unhurried, without massive amounts of noise or traffic. Like Palermo and Ricoleta, you wouldn't know walking around here or sitting having a beer that you were in a city of 13 million people. We went to look at the Museum of Modern Art but it's being renovated and was closed. Someone had tagged the top of the sign for it, which I guess you could argue is a small expression of modern "art", so maybe we didn't come away entirely empty handed.

The third day we headed to the centre of the city, which I guess does what it says on the tin. Much more chaotic and what you'd expect a big city like this to feel like. That night we headed out in Palermo, first to a great little bar called Campobravo, then to a club called Crobar. The bar had as many beautiful women under one roof as I've seen anywhere, as probably did any number of bars down the same street. The club was okay without being superb. The music was pretty good and wouldn't be out of place in Ibiza. The crowd didn't seem as up for it as they may have been and the layout of the club wasn't such that you'd go off on little wanders checking out different rooms. Still, the drinks weren't as pricey as feared and, though I doubt I'll go back to that club next time, if that's an average sort of spot then some others in BA are sure to please.

Our final day had a proper little random treat lined up for us. The guy we rented the apartment from came through with some tickets for the national polo championship final. I didn't see myself going to polo ever, let alone a big event in Argentina. My preconception of polo was that it was a bunch of toffs on horseback playing glorified croquet. I still think it's a bunch of toffs on horseback playing glorified croquet, but it was a great day out and I'd go again given the chance. It was a strange kind of setup for what is essentially the equivalent of, say, an FA Cup final. The surrounding area wasn't brimming with pre match atmosphere and entertainment, and even afterwards there didn't seem to be a massive amount going on. We didn't stay out that late, as Ed and I were off south the next day.

I will definitely come back to BA, maybe for a month or so, live in an apartment and learn some Spanish. I've been getting by just fine on limited Spanish and whipping out the phrasebook now and then, but that's not enough. I want to be able to really dive into South America, and that's impossible without having a decent grasp of the lingo. One very noticeable thing here is how good most tourists are at Spanish. In other parts of the world people use English as the lingua franca, as I found in eastern Europe, but here Spanish is the only currency in town. Many locals, particularly younger ones, understand a little English, but to get anywhere here you have to be speaking their language. Besides, Spanish is a great language, pleasant to listen to and fun to speak. I might still have no luck with the girls here when I've learned their language, but even less if I don't.

Next up, we're off back down south. In Ed's case, a long, long way south...

South America #1 - Santiago, Crossing the Andes & Mendoza

2008-11-25T17:18:00.001Z

And so to South America for the (unless anything crops up in the meantime, which I won´t rule out) last part of this big trip. I´ve long had something of a fascination with South America, so it´s great to be able to get back here for a decent amount of time and really see a few places. I went to Brazil for a mate´s wedding about 4 or 5 years ago and was blown away by it. I was only there for 2 weeks and only saw a few places, but it still grabbed me in a way that no other place had before.

My friend married a Brazlian girl in Florianopolis, south of Sao Paulo, and I was sitting in the back of a speedboat on his wedding day when we went wakeboarding, just looking around me and feeling kind of overwhelmed. People have said to me how much they liked NZ and how beautiful it was to them, and I was always a little flippant about it, knowing that NZ is beautiful without really understanding what they meant. Until the I saw the natural beauty of a little corner of Brazil. None of which is to say that I don´t find NZ beautiful, but familiarity breeds, well not exactly contempt in this case, but more like taking it for granted. Anyway, I had to come back, so here I am. I don´t have any specific plans for the next few months, other than I reckon I´ll love Argentina generally, and I´d like to see and do a few things like some glaciers in Chile, Machu Picchu, some time in Punte del Este in Uruguay (said to be the Ibiza of South America), Carnavale somewhere maybe in Brazil, a downhill bike ride in Bolivia, maybe Colombia, Equador and Angel Falls if it fits too. Other than that, she´s an open book, and here´s the first chapter.

November 18: Auckland - Santiago

I´m stoked to be spending the first 3 weeks of South America with my brother Ed, after which he´s off to Antarctica with our Mum for Christmas (as you do...) and I´ll wind my way back up north to wherever. As luck had it, we were on the same flight out of Auckland, to Chile´s capital.

Santiago sits around halfway up that long country, not on the coast but nestled between there and the Andes to the east. I wasn´t sure what to expect from Santiago, but it´s a great city. At around 4.5 million, there are as many people in this city alone as there are in NZ, but you wouldn´t think so when you walk around it. The streets are wide and have a very relaxed, European feel and look, the old mixing effortlessly with the new. You can see the Andes peeping out in the distance, through the haze, which makes them unimposing despite their size and scale.

The public transport system here is impressive, with the metro system easy to use, cheap, clean and arriving in what seemed like never more than a 2 minute wait. Bizarrely the metro trains run on tyres as well, so the carriages don´t rock from side to side so much like they sometimes do in London. In some cities you get the usual uninvited "services while stuck at traffic lights - people selling flowers, washing windscreens etc. Not here. No, they go for the acrobatic routine. Fantastic.

The people seem unhurried and are friendly towards tourists without being pushy or aggressive in any way. It´s said that this is the most welcoming of the South American capital cities, and it feels that way, which makes it the perfect place to fly in to from afar.

Our hostel was fantastic, not too expensive, well located and staffed by a group of Germans in Chile working and learning Spanish. At first I wondered why they would want to go to Chile, which is more expensive and maybe has less variety than Argentina, but on reflection I can easily see why. I don´t think Buenos Aires will be as friendly or relaxed as Santiago, but we´ll see. Ed´s mate Craig joined us on the 2nd day, and we´re all traveling together for about 3 weeks, mainly in Argentina. We were only in Santiago for 3 days, before heading to Argentina. On the basis of my time in Santiago, I´ll almost certainly get back there and elsewhere in Chile at some point when I´m flying solo.

On our first night, before Craig arrived, we sampled for our welcome drink a concoction called Pisco Sour, which is a citrus liquer of some sort and big in these parts. Kind of Margarita meets Fairy lemon washing up liquid, but very tasty. Then it was off for our first meal in South America with another dude at the hostel, YK. We went to an area called Bella Vista which is good for a feed and a drink, and sat ourselves down at a streetside cafe. For the price of a starter in London, I had a massive helping of steak with chips, sausage, onion and the (for me) obligatory 2 fried eggs. I was chowing down for a good 20 minutes and had long passed the point where eating for need becomes gratuitous eating, and I still couldn´t see much of my plate. If this is how the next 4 months are going to work out I´m going to need a doctor waiting for me at Heathrow.

The next day we went for a wander up one of the 2 main elevated walks in Santiago, Cerro San Cristobel. Well that´s not entirely true - we got a gondola 2km to the summit and got some great views of the city, and walked down. When we arrived back at the hostel Craig had checked in, so we cracked on with another Pisco Sour or 2 then went back to Bella Vista for another meal and some drinks with 2 of our hosts, Anna and Mattias. They suggested a club for us to go to afterwards, which we inexplicably failed to find but we did stumble on another small club called El Tunel which was very amusing. As the only gringos in the joint, we were well looked after and never short on a chance to try out some of our bad Spanish on locals (okay, local girls), who were keen to practice their English with us. Ed put in the hard yards with one girl who was lovely, and then somehow got it into his head at the end of the night that she was a hooker, so politely declined her invitation home. Naturally, he was regretting such a train of thought in the cold light of day. If Argentine girls are as friendly (whether or not in the sense of being possible to pull) we´re in for a good trip, but somehow I reckon this is more of a Chilean feature.

Our last day took us on another walk up the other elevated area in the city, Cerro Santa Lucia. This is apparently well known for being a favourite place for the locals to engage in PDA, which South Americans generally are not shy about from what we've seen. We didn´t see anything too full-on and did get some nice views of the city from there also. As well as being propositioned by a young local girl. We were feeling a bit jaded after the 5am finish the previous night so it was a relaxed dinner and an early night for us, ahead of an early bus the following morning.

November 21: Santiago - Mendoza

Buses are the main way to travel around South America, with varying degrees of comfort. Some bus journeys can take longer than a flight from London to NZ, so I will be keeping my fingers crossed that they´ll generally not be too uncomfortable. Our first experience was a relatively short 7 hour bus over the Andes, from Santiago to the small city of Mendoza, nestled at the foot of the Aregentine side of the mountains. The crossing was magnificent, taking us through some incredible scenery. We headed slightly north of Santiago, then hung a right and headed towards the Andes. When you reach the mountains, you start winding up, and up, and up, and up, and..... negotiating several hairpins. As you can see, the view back down of the hairpins you´ve just come up is kind of remarkable.

And so it was goodbye (for now) Chile.....

....and hello Argentina!

Just after the passport control point near the summit of the crossing, you pass on the left Aconcagua, which is the highest mountain outside of Asia, at a shade under 7,000m. The Argentine side of the Andes is much straighter and affords great views of sweeping valleys surrounded by imposing slopes of multi-coloured rock with varying degrees of growth, and a rust-red river snaking along the floor. There was a narrow railway line that followed the course of the road, but it looked as if there had been some landslides in places which have rendered the tracks unusable.

Exiting the mountain range, we pulled into Mendoza in the late afternoon and went on what turned out to be a bit of a mission to find our hostel. We´d booked it the previous night on the basis that it had a pool, so were disappointed to find there was no such thing when we arrived. They had a barbeque that night that we paid for but didn´t really end up getting involved, as the music was enough to burst anyone´s eardrums and consisted of 3 or 4 beats of some track or other followed by a god-awful intrusion of noise, repeated ad nauseum, which made the whole repertoire sound like nails down a blackboard, on crack. Craig wasn´t feeling too chipper, so he turned in while Ed and I sat outside chatting to a couple of other barbeque-goers who, like us, didn´t partake in the conga. I went on a tour of the city with one of them late into the night too, which was fun.

Next day we got the hell out of there and checked into another hostel across town which was much more in keeping with what we wanted. Our host, Arial, was a very genial guy, and quick to help with suggestions of things to do around the area. Plus he had a swimming pool, which was great and provided much hilarity with his portly 7 year old son giving us many demonstrations of his unorthodox diving techniques.

In some ways it´s difficult to see why Mendoza is so popular, as there seems to be a disconnect between its status as a ¨must see¨place in Argentina and how much there is to actually see and do. It´s pleasant enough, and we enjoyed it, so don´t get me wrong - I would still recommend it as a place to come for a few days to relax and do a couple of things, and the array of mullets on show was very impressive. We wondered what the collective noun would be and reckoned on a Mendoza of Mullets. The city is absolutely choc full of trees and has several beautiful parks and plazas, which lends it a relaxed feeling. With relatively little rainfall you wonder at first how the city can be so green. There are irrigation channels running alongside all the roads, which water the trees, a system devised originally by the Incas. On our last day there was a big hailstorm out near some wineries, with hail stones the size of tomatoes. Apparently car windscreens were being smashed - you wouldn´t want to be caught in it. Apparently when it rains hard in Mendoza the irrigation channels fill up and the roads are covered with surface water, and the gringos fall into the channels. I'd love to see that. Luckily it didn´t happen to us.

You can do all sorts of trekking and rafting stuff here. We opted for hanging out in the picturesque Parque General san Martin one afternoon and heading back to Aconcagua for a wander on another. Our last night we went to a restaurant called La Barra which had been recommended to us by my mate Toby (of NZ roadie fame). The owner, Enzo, cooks while you watch and drink some of Mendoza´s beautiful red, the signature wine around here being Malbec. The food was incredible too; meat cooked to perfection and with tasty bits and pieces to go with it. And again, inexpensive.

It´s hard to believe I´ve only been in South America for a week. My Spanish has improved slightly, to a level of ¨less shit than it was¨and I´m enjoying whipping out the phrase book to bumble my way through situations. Tonight we´re heading south on a bus for around 17 hours, to a place called Bariloche.

If you're familar with my blog from eastern Europe, you´ll know I like to snap a sign if it has a friend's name on it. So Dani, this is for you...

Hasta luego amigos.

New Zealand

2008-11-19T07:46:00.001Z

It's hard to know where to start. This was the first time I'd been back here in a couple of years; most other times I've come back it was just for a week or two, so I was looking forward to spending 5 weeks here this time and seeing a bit more of my country. I was meeting my mate Toby from the UK who was coming here for a month, so we hired a car and got on a roadie around the North and South Islands. Here's how it unfolded.

14 - 24 October: North Island

We stayed with my brother Ed for a couple of nights in Wellington and had a pretty relaxing time. Toby had flown in from Sri Lanka via India and Melbourne so had a bit of jetlag to beat too. I caught up with a couple of mates I hadn't seen for a while, so inevitably we had a few beers. Wellington's always nice to get back to. A lot of people who travel to NZ don't spend any time in Wellington, which is a shame. It's a great city and is very easy to get around and friendly, especially for a capital city. So if you're visiting NZ anytime, make sure you have a night or 2 there. Ok? Ok.

Our roadie started out in fine fashion - when we went to pick up the car the dude behind the counter asked what we were up to. When we replied that we were on a roadie, he exclaimed a loud and long "sweeeet!!" as if it was the best thing he'd ever heard. Great form for a fella working in a car rental place. So already the stage was set for an amusing few weeks.

longest place name in the world

The first night we spent in a we place called Waipukurau, which is in central Hawkes Bay. You probably won't see it on many tourist maps, as there isn't much to see or do there, but it's a handy place to spend a night if you're on your way up to the Bay from Wellington. We perched at the bar of the hotel we stayed in and got a decent roast down, and sat there for a good few hours knocking back Tui - one of many NZ beers to which Toby would be introduced - with the locals. He was also very amused at the fact that the bar is also a bookies, so you can sit on your stool, watch the hounds and horses and place some bets if you're so inclined. Which I was, if even just for the novelty value. It's like having a William Hill and Slug & Lettuce rolled in to one. Like the guy in the rental shop said, "sweet". The barman at this place was a good joker and is setting up a hostel so if you find yourself in the area, for some odd reason, check out http://www.teshack.co.nz/. [LATER EDIT. BEN CHAPMAN WAS SADLY KILLED IN A ROAD ACCIDENT IN 2009. R.I.P. BEN]

Bright eyed and bushy tailed we headed north through Napier and stayed next night at Waipatiki Beach. It's a great little spot which is still kind of a well kept secret. I went there with Ed a couple of years ago when we went on a mini roadie up to Hawkes Bay last time I was home, and left a towel there when we left. The woman remembered the incident without prompting when I told her I'd been there a couple of years ago with my brother. That's how much goes down here. Nice view from the hut too.

It was pissing down most of the time so we didn't get out exploring and didn't get into the sea. But the wildlife provided some entertainment. We slowed for a baby possum crossing the road and then stopped to marvel at the cute little fella, then it tried to climb into the car wheels, so we had to get some passing road workers to extract it gently with a rake, which it held on to by its tail. A couple of turkeys going at it with some voyeur cows watching on was pretty funny too.

Next day we were off to Gisborne, the first city in the world to see the sun each day. On the way, we went to Lake Waikaremoana and had a wee wander up to another lake nearby - Lake Waikareiti - which was one of the quiest places I've ever been.

On the walk up we were treated to plenty of chirping from one of NZ's favourite birds, the tui (yes, same as the beer...) which we would hear all over the country.

"look at this little fella"

Without wishing to sound like a fake David Attenborough, the birdsong's one thing that always gets me when I visit home. And the birds generally. There are plenty of native birds that can't fly (the kiwi being the best known), which kind of defeats the raison d'etre for a bird, but we like 'em all the same as most are endangered, and native.

After a quiet night in Gisborne (we'd hammered a fair bit of grass and beers when we were rained in in our hut at Waipatiki) we headed to Rotorua (or "Rotovegas" as its also known around here).The area is well known for its thermal activity so on the way we went and checked out Hell's Gate.

Man, I am so glad we weren't hungover. You know it's gonna smell, but the whiff still knocks you for six. We had a soak in a thermal bath and most of my clothes, a few weeks on, still have a whiff of sulphur from being in the machine when I washed my shorts afterwards. We stayed at a great hostel with plenty of character. If you're ever in Vegas, you find a better hostel to stay than Cactus Jack's. We went for a couple of beers which turned into a ridiculously heavy night, especially for a Sunday.

So with Tobes feeling pretty shaky after our impromptu mammoth Sunday session, we headed further north, to the Coromandel Peninsula. I hadn't been up that way before so it was nice to be discovering new ground. And it's seriously good looking up there. Big, unspoilt and empty beaches all over the place. On the way we stopped in at Opoutere Beach for a couple of hours. There wasn't a soul on it.

That night we stayed in a wee place called Tairua. There's a hill overlooking it called Paku, which gives views over Tairua and its fancy Aucklanders-with-holiday-homes neighbour Pauanui, and also out across some islands in the Pacific.

We had a pretty amusing night at the hostel playing drinking games with a couple of young upstarts from Auckland who were on a roadie of their own, navigating only by way of tossing a coin and turning left or right as the coin dictated. I like the spirit.

Next day and we're off again, this time cutting across the Coromandel Peninsula and heading west and across the north island, south of Auckland.

There are some stunning views as you cross the Coromandel, and I can now
see well what all the fuss is about. The colours are amazing, the way the greens of the grass and the bush bounces off the blue of the sea and the sky. You don't need to photoshop pictures in NZ, nature does it for you.

We had a couple of nights in Raglan, south of Auckland on the west coast of the North Island and part of the so-called "Surf Highway". The waves were looking good too - it's easy to see why some people say Raglan's got the best surf in the country. My guess is there's a well kept secret hidden away somewhere that would have better surf than Raglan. Maybe one day I'll find it. We saw quite possibly the finest display of "not arsed" parking in Raglan too. Check this out. We were cracking up about it when we discovered that the guy we'd been drinking with for the previous 3 or 4 hours was the man behind the legend.

Next day we headed to New Plymouth on our way back down south. Nothing remarkable about New Plymouth and the weather was shit again, but we did see a nice waterfall just outside of Raglan as we left - Bridal Veil Falls.

After New Plymouth we continued to Wellington for another night and stayed with my friends Sally and Mike. A heavy night, that one, as it was always going to be (thanks guys!).

25 October - 9 November: South Island

We caught the ferry across the Cook Strait to the South Island. That crossing can get pretty rough when the wind's up, so with our hangovers we were glad to have calm waters. We had a couple of uneventful nights in Christchurch and Dunedin and then headed west to Te Anau, in Fiordland, where some of NZ's most amazing scenery can be found.

Just south of Te Anau is Lake Manapouri, which can be reached by road or by way of walking the Keplar Track. There are various ways you can do it - a walk over several days right around the Keplar track, or the option we went with, which was just a half day walk to the lake and back.

It was raining so the clouds were low and visibility over and around the lake wasn't great, but somehow that added to the atmosphere of the place. There wasn't a soul around, so we had a smoke and just stood there listening to the rain and the sound of bellbirds which were amazing - kind of a digital sound, which you couldn't believe a living creature could make. With the benefit of the smoke, in my head I was imagining what it would be like to have the bellbirds mixed in with a bassline and some beats, and it sounded pretty bloody amazing. I'll have to see if I can put something like that together someday.

The walk back was amazing too, the forest floor covered with a carpet of moss. It gets pretty wet down here so the surroundings are incredible and vivid, which means the rain isn't a problem when you're tripping around.

The next night we spent on an overnight trip to Doubtful Sound. which is kind of mis-named as it's a fjord. This is one of the most remote places you could ever see. The landscape is amazing, sheer cliff faces formed thousands of years ago with glacial activity, covered with lush vegetation and with waterfalls all over the place.

Fiordland is one of the wettest places on earth, with annual rainfall of 7 metres or more. We were lucky enough to get a bit of sunlight in the afternoon, so could see better the rainforest surrounding us. I'd always thought that it had to be warm for rainforest to survive so it was interesting to see that temperature isn't an issue, at least down here.

There's a seal colony here too,
but these are sea lions.

We saw some penguins too.

We headed to Queenstown after the night in Doubtful Sound. Bizarrely the population is only 5,000 which seems incredible given the scenery around there. We went for a drive around Lake Wakatipu and a little north of that, to Glenorchy.

It's well known for its adventure tourism and must pump a fair bit of cash in to NZ's economy. They're certainly good at relieving you of some cash down there. After a couple of days resisting the temptation, I saw we were in for a day 0f 25 degree sunshine with no cloud and no wind. Perfect for jumping out of a plane at 12,000 feet strapped to a Finnish dude half my weight...

Worth every cent too. I didn't feel nervous beforehand, though the closer I got to it the more I wondered what I was about to let myself in for. The tension builds slowly as you ascend in the little plane and it was when it levelled out at the drop zone that I started to get a bit of the fear.

That wasn't helped by seeing the other punter, an Irish lad called Eddie, fall out attached to his tandem dude. They disappeared from view immediately, then it was my turn. I sat on the edge of the floor, with my feet out the door.

You have to dangle your feet right over the rail as well, so there's no support beneath your feet. That was the aspect of it I found most difficult - being subject totally to someone else's control. Who's half my size. Then we were off.

The first few seconds were amazing and I replayed them in my head several times over the next few days. It's 45 seconds freefall from that height, and I didn't feel like it went too quickly at the time - like I had enough time to really appreciate and buzz off it before the chute opened.

Thinking back on it after the event, it does seem like it went quicker, but I do remember being able to appreciate it fully at the time. It's an incredible experience and it won't be the last time I do it, for sure.

After Queenstown we headed up the West Coast to Fox Glacier. You can go walking on the glacier but it was pissing down so we didn't. It's a tiny place without a great deal to do but we ended up having a couple of nights there. The second day we went and had a look at Lake Matheson, which when totally calm gives an amazing mirror effect with the surroundings. On a good day you can see mountains reflected, but there was low cloud when we went. All the same it was pretty sweet.

From there it was off to the northern part of the South Island, near Nelson, which was where I went to school and know the area well and remember fondly.

We borrowed a rugby ball from a guy at the kayak hire place and lost it in the water at Kaiteriteri beach, so I had to brave the cold water to swim (unsuccessfully) after it when the wind got up and swept it out. Good way to wake up though.

That night we watched with relief and amazement as the US elction results came in. There wer a few Americans staying there too and the relief for them was easily apparent.

We were nearing the end of the trip by now and decided on a couple of days' kayaking in Abel Tasman National Park, which really is one of NZ's most beautiful areas. They gave us an hour's safety briefing and then we were off in the kayak.

It was pretty easy going, we only needed a couple of hours worth of real effort to reach the boat we were staying on for the night, so that gave us time to pull in to a couple of beaches and chill out
and have a beer and something to eat.

We stayed on a floating backpackers in Anchorage Bay which was great. We enjoyed a wee smoke on the back of the boat and watched the stars. We saw a meteor enter the earth's atmosphere, trail for a second and burn up, which was pretty incredible and a sight I'll never forget.

Last stop was Nelson, where my other brother Dave lives with his wife Trace and my niece and nephew, Edie and Tom.

Always great to see them and this time was added value with Tracee's 40th birthday. Very boozy. Nelson's a beautiful wee place and if I ever move back to NZ it'll be when I'm ready to settle down a bit, so Nelson's a good place as any to do it. We will see.

The day after Tracee's 40th was a bit of a slow one, to say the least, with our hangovers. We had a smoke in the Centre of NZ, which is a walk up a hill to the geographical centre of the country. Which seemed kind of an appropriate place to sign off on the roadie.

Thailand and Sydney

2008-10-13T07:02:00.002+01:00

1 October: London - Bangkok

With eastern Europe in my rearview mirror and after a few days to catch up with some folks in London, first stop was Bangkok to see friends who've been living there for a few years. They've got a sweet expat lifestyle there and it's always good to see them. They've got a good bunch of friends they've met in the time they've been there and we had a good night out for Ellie's birthday. I don't think I've ever seen as many mojitos sunk in a single session.

One thing that always amazes me is the size of the city. I like Bangkok and its craziness. Not so keen on seeing fat old white men wandering around with Thai juniors, but in a bizarre way you don't notice it after a while.

I've visited Thailand half a dozen times in the last 2 or 3 years and usually spend a few days in Bangkok before heading down south to the islands. We had a good day out wakeboarding, just outside of the city and with a temple in the background to make an interesting setting.

This time I'd have liked to do something different and go north to Chiang Mai for some walking around in forest, but there was a typhoon around and if the thunderstorms up north would have been anything like the ones in Bangkok it would have been pretty miserable. So I went south again. Not such hard luck really.

I was in Thailand for a couple of months around xmas last year and spent a fair amount of time on Phi Phi. It was pretty much wiped out in the tsunami so it's weird sitting in a beach bar and looking up and down the beach and imagining nothing being there.

8 October: Bangkok - Sydney

Next stop was just a weekend in Sydney seeing friends, on the way back to NZ. I've been a couple of times before. The first time I didn't rate Sydney as I stayed in Bondi which I thought was a bit up its own arse. Last time I came I visited friends in Manly and had a completely different experience. That got me thinking I'd like to spend a few years in Sydney when I leave London. This time pretty much set that plan in stone.

Sydney's got it all. Great beaches, good climate and the idea of living in Manly and getting a boat to the city to work each day sounds pretty mellow. Plus having friends there already and being closer to NZ makes it a no brainer

Check out the artwork with the seaweed here.

Next up's a roadie around NZ for a month.

Final Thoughts

2008-10-01T16:39:00.001+01:00

So, here I am back in London at the end of it all. Eastern Europe is amazing. Beautiful, interesting and fun - and that's just the people. It's hard to say I had a favourite place as I liked different places for different reasons. I guess I liked the Baltics for the women, Kiev and Budapest for stunning cities, Slovakia and Poland for the scenery, Bosnia and Serbia for surprise packages and Croatia for the partying. So it was all good.

It's amazing how easy it was to get around. Almost everywhere, anyone under 35 speaks good English. It wasn't as cheap as I'd anticipated, and after a while I abandoned my budget and decided to just enjoy it.

The recent history of so many places was pretty sobering. Around 1989 - 1992 there was so much change all over eastern Europe. The fall of communism, the USSR and Yugoslavia were massive and I guess it's pretty amazing how quickly it all happened, and around the same time. Almost overnight, so many new countries on the map. The people are so outward looking and just keen to get on with their lives. Which I guess is human nature.

Now, I'm heading to Bangkok, Sydney, New Zealand and finally South America.

Croatia, Munich & Prague

2008-10-01T15:56:00.001+01:00

5 September: Mostar - Dubrovnik

I'm gonna be lazy now and whip through the last few days of my trip. I went to Dubrovnik and hung out there with the kiwi dude I met in Mostar for a couple of days. It's a beautiful little city and even the abundance of tourists doesn't put you off. It was super hot so I hung out at the beach for a couple of afternoons. "Beach" is a little ambitious, given it was rocks and not sand so doesn't qualify as a beach for my money. Still it was nice though and the Adriatic water was amazing.

From there I went to Split, a little up the coast. I was thinking of going to Zagreb to try and get a ticket for the Croatia v England football World Cup qualifier. But decided in the end I couldn't be arsed sitting on a bus for another 5 hours without a guarantee of getting in. Plus I didn't want to be there if the English lost and a bunch of hooligans ran around smashing up the city centre. So I went to an island just off Split called Hvar and hung out with 3 English I met on the ferry on the way over. We took a day trip the next day around some tiny islands off Hvar, which was pretty sweet. The water was amazing and the sun was shining.

From there it was back to Split for another night to get on the Sail Croatia party boat for a week. Picture the scene if you can: 44 people on the boat sailing from island to island, with a couple of mainland overnights as well. 37 of those 44 were girls. Seriously. This is what I'm talkin' about:

I was lucky enough to have great people on my boat (there are 8 boats all going at the same time) and had a fantastic time. The only downer was the weather, which turned for pretty much the whole week. It was a shame for the people who were only on holiday for a couple of weeks. I wasn't too worried as I'd not seen any rain for several weeks and the G&Ts helped to take the edge off too....

22 September: Croatia - Munich

So after a week of little sleep and much partying it was off to Munich for Oktoberfest for, um, more of the same for 3 days. Oktoberfest is mental. But such good fun. I met up with a boatmate and while we were there we bumped into a guy she works with in Sydney. He was there seeing a few of his mates that live and work in Munich so we were well looked after.

I went to Prague after 3 nights. Well that's not strictly true - I was meant to go to Prague but fell asleep on the train leaving Munich and missed my stop to connect to Prague. So woke up at the end of the line in a place called Hof, somewhere else in Germany. I had to get a room there for a night and get to Prague the next day. I met up with a couple I'd met in Hvar who are studying in Prague (he's from Slovakia, she's Japanese) and they took me out with a big bunch of their mates who are also studying there. So it was another late night which was a fitting end to my Europe adventure.

Slovakia, Hungary, Serbia & Bosnia & Herzegovina

2008-09-03T20:58:00.001+01:00

24 August: Zakopane - Nový Smokovec

Truth be told, it was a relief to get out of Zakopane. The setting was nice enough, shame about the town itself. It might once have been the cute little mountain town I was anticipating, but it's now pock marked with Tesco, KFC, McDonalds, Pizza Hut and no doubt plenty of other monotonous franchises that I didn't see. Added to that it was the weekend, and there was an annual folk festival, so it was hideously overrun. Under different circumstances I'd have gone to check out the festival, but the weather was terrible and there was a "fun fair" attached to the festival. (Those things are seldom fun, and never fair)

Nový Smokovec, on the other hand, is exactly what I was after. A pretty little township placed in the middle of the Tatras, with plenty of nice walking trails and friendly faces. I went for a hike and checked out this wee water fall (a "watersmall"?) in the mountains and was treated to some sweet views.

In 2004 a massive windstorm swept through the area and ripped out big sections of forest. What's left is still worth the trip, and enough people keep coming to keep the place ticking over just fine. I coasted the 3km back to town downhill on a scooter which was a laugh.

And another sign of the "same as a mate's name" variety. Here y'are Papey.

My hotel's one of the coolest I've stayed in too. It still cost less than a shitty hotel in London, was touch screen this and bleeping that, had its own 2 lane bowling alley and this was the view from my window.

Tomorrow I'm heading further south to a national park which has some cool hiking trails up through ravines with plenty of waterfalls to see. No accommodation sorted so it could be interesting.

25 August: Nový Smokovec - Spišská Nová Ves

Long story short, with all my stuff it was a hassle getting a place sorted (at least without seriously pissing off the locals barging my way onto a local bus), so after much walking around I got a shitty hotel in town and got out of there with a day pack for an afternoon hike which was cool. After a couple of hours I came across a trail which had this view from the bottom....

and this was the view from the top of where I'd taken it from...

I wanted to go back the next day and do an 8 hour walk up through the spectacular ravines and waterfalls. But all the maps and literature on the area warned not to do that walk without sturdy hiking boots, as there are ladders and chains and step walks along the route. I only had trainers, and hiking boots wouldn't have fit into my budget or my backpack, so reluctantly I decided to abandon the idea and go south.

26 August: Spišská Nová Ves - Budapest

Budapest was a strange kind of experience. Again I didn't really get to engage with any locals and was subsequently told by a few people that's not unusual for Budapest. The city had some really cool architecture and interesting history, so notwithstanding the reticence of the locals it's still a city well worth visiting.

The hostel wasn't overly collegiate either, people tended to do their own thing. I did meet an American girl who it turned out knew a bunch of people I knew in Baghdad from the Hash House Harriers there, so we hung out for a bit.

The tramp of the week this time I picked on account of her serenity. One of the most chilled out tramps I've seen, which takes some doing.

And more gold dust on the sign/name front. Ed, not sure if this is you or me or both?

29 August: Budapest - Belgrade

Serbia's been one of the real surprise packages of the trip so far. After Nato bombed the country only 10 years ago, I could be forgiven for thinking that the people might not be so friendly towards westerners. Not a bit of it - the folks here, like those from the Baltics, are incredibly relaxed, outward-looking and open people. On my first night I went for a wander around the city to see if I could find some good nightlife. I was amazed to stumble upon a huge open air party / festival set within the walls of a historic citadel with 2 DJs I'm into - Steve Lawler and Sasha - on the decks. I met a couple of girls from Serbia's 2nd city, Novi Sad, and hung out with them until they had to go get their train at 7am. Belgrade's not a photogenic city, even by the locals' own admission, so I didn't feel too bad about not going on a photoshoot. The 2nd night I went out with a couple of Portuguese girls staying at the hostel but was pretty bored by the end of it, seeing as they'd picked a party boat with the world's worst form of music in my opinion, R&B.

31 August: Belgrade - Novi Sad

I'd arranged with the girls from Friday to come and visit their city. Unfortunately my phone died in Belgrade so I had no way of contacting them. I took the train up anyway. It's smaller and more relaxed than Belgrade, but still with plenty going on if you're so inclined. I was so exhausted after Belgrade I just had a wander round to see if I'd run into the girls - always unlikely as Novi Sad's not that small. So I had some fodder and got a welcome early night.

Next day I went for a wander around Novi Sad's greatest treasure, a massive fortress. Then back at the hostel stuck my sim card in another phone and got a couple of texts from the girls so was able to meet up with them for the night. Good fun too, we took my guitar down to the beach and stayed there drinking Serbia's favourite booze - rakia, which is a local brandy - until the early hours.

They told me what it was like when Nato bombed the city. As you'd expect, it's something that still resonates clearly with them deeply. They were only young at the time and said the worst thing was hearing the bombs and not knowing if someone they knew had been killed or hurt. Like Iraq 15 years later, it makes me pause for thought about the extent to which our "interventions" tend to be "humanitarian". But the Serbs don't hate America or the west, in spite of what happened. Impressively, they are able to distinguish between a country's people and the actions of its government, which is kind of ironic given the inability of some westerners to do the same.

That dark horse again in Serbia - the Cyrillic alphabet - but they also use our alphabet, particularly in the north. I've become much more comfortable with Cyrillic now, especially being able to remember what the right sound is for characters which are the same as ours. For example PECTOPAH is RESTORAN. It's easier in Serbia than it was in Kiev too because the language is similar to many surrounding countries. I've also managed to remember some of the Cyrillic characters which bear no resemblance to ours, but then when I was younger I could write in the 2 simple Japanese alphabets and when in Baghdad I was able to remember Arabic numbers, so maybe I shouldn't be so surprised when I forget.

More gold on the sign / name as well - Bob I knew I'd come across something for you, and Nick here you are too...

3 September: Novi Sad - Sarajevo

It's an 8 hour bus trip from Novi Sad to Sarajevo. The Serbian side's pretty unremarkable, being dominated by fields of corn and sunflowers. The Bosnian side's a different story altogether, immediately snaking alongside an emerald green river, before the road diverts up a valley and across one of Bosnia's many mountain ranges. During the first valley we ran alongside another river, but unlike its neighbour this was a truly bizarre bright rust colour. Along with the Tigris, this must be a contender for the world title of Rivers You Don't Want To Swim In.

Into and across the mountains and it was a bit touch and go at times whether we would reach Sarajevo. Not because the driver was insane or the road was bad (which neither was), but because the bus struggled to make it up some parts and would occasionally shudder to a grudging halt on some of the tighter corners. No matter, it gave us time to appreciate some pretty sweet views.

Approaching and into Sarajevo, you're immediately at ease the city. It's pretty in a way that Belgrade's not, and being set by way of small central city surrounded by residential areas on hills it reminded me a lot of Wellington. The vibrant nightlife, friendly and relaxed people and size and population were all similar too.

Imagine concentration camps, "ethnic cleansing" and thousands being forced from their homes and villages. Now imagine that it's not the 1940s but the 1990s. RightSaidFred was too sexy for his shirt and I was still at high school. It's incredible that as recently as 1994 this city was a battlefield. But sure enough, as you walk around the city you can still see the outside of several buildings bearing the scars.

When I was in Serbia, I felt cagey asking my friends about what had happened there, though they were happy to talk about it. I'm not taking my chances here. It was another kind of conflict, brutal and I think even more tragic than what happened elsewhere in the region around that time. Still, people seem determined to get on with life. There's no evidence of that changing anytime soon, but anything's possible in the long run. It's amazing how different religions coexist here - mainly Muslim, then Orthodox, Catholic, others and Protestants - but then so did they before the conflict. You see dozens of mosques' minarets peeping up from the city roofs in Sarajevo, and apparently Saudi Arabia has funded a rapid building (or rebuilding) of mosques across the country. Theirs is a particularly hardline branch of Islam - Wahhabi - so there's understandable concern about the risk to what is for now a generally secular and tolerant Muslim persuasion.

3 September: Sarajevo - Mostar

Last stop in Bosnia and it's half way to Dubrovnik in Croatia, an interesting place and a good way to break up the trip. The journey down was stunning the further we got towards Mostar. The mountains are barren like desert and can't have seen any rain for a long time. But we followed the path of a stunning river. The water was amazing. See for yourself.

Mostar suffered badly during the conflict and the graveyards are full of stones bearing the tale with the same date of death for so many. This place is famous for a bridge, which was destroyed in November 1993 but rebuilt immediately after hostilities ended.

Some people jump off the bridge to entertain the tourists. A couple of English lads jumped off when I was there. I considered it for a nanosecond until I went and looked down. Not me, mate. Met up with another guy from NZ and we had a few beers and then the guy whose bar we were in got us really baked. Fun fun fun.

Poland & Kiev

2008-08-15T20:32:00.002+01:00

11 August: Vilnius - Gdansk

I've only been in Poland for 5 hours, only one of those daylight, and it's already stealing my heart away from the Baltics. The overnight bus made a flattish "V" shape southwest out of Lithuania to Olsztyn, and then northwest to Gdasnk. I had a good feeling about Poland as soon as I entered it. The road cuts its way through forest, and I snatched glimpses of the forest in the headlights of the bus through broken, disorientating sleep and despite increasing grumpiness at the prospect of developing deep vein thrombosis. Four hours later we stopped at Olsztyn for a few minutes, and as I stepped off the bus to stretch my veal-calfised legs, I looked back east and was treated to this for a sunrise.

Finally, as if designed to break down the last of anyone's resistance, the countryside on the way back up towards the Baltic coast opens up and dares you not to be impressed. I've wanted to come to Poland for a long time, and I'm happy I finally got round to it.

12 August: Gdansk

What a difference a day makes. Gdansk is a foreboding, sinister feeling city, and I feel distinctly uneasy here. Some cities have a good feel to them, and some have a bad feel. There are varying degrees of good and bad, but they're always one or the other - they never leave me feeling totally indifferent. And Gdansk, for me, is definitely not a good city. I feel on edge here, and tomorrow I'm getting the hell out here. I don't care where, but back to nature, back through that countryside I liked so much and towards the lakes is appealing.

I can't say I've been unlucky, given this is the only unenjoyable day I've had in 4 weeks, but to an extent you make your own luck, and I have to go and seek out the good things again.

The highlight of Gdansk, for me, was seeing the world's oldest recorded evidence of a gurn. This guy looks like a mate after a heavy session at DC10.

13 August: Gdansk - Mikołajki

Again, what a difference a day makes. I caught a train to Olsztyn and onward bus to the lakes. Again I was mesmerised by the countryside. The further I went, the more magnificent it became. At first it was flat, expansive plains that stretched out as far as the eye could see, and then later became more undulating. But always, always bathed in rich and vivid colours - golds, greens and countless shades of earth. It was like agriculture as visual art. And when we got closer to my destination - Mikołajki (pronounced Me-ho-why-key), the lakes and forests were unforgettable.

I arrived shortly after the sun had surrendered to an almost-full moon and went to check into the guest house I'd booked on the phone on the way. With regret, they'd had to release my room an hour earlier, as they weren't sure I was coming and I couldn't explain I'd be later than expected. But they'd found me a room a few doors down which was the perfect size for me and a quarter of the price, so everything's worked out great. The boy's luck is back.

I found a great pub, with a Polish dude outside onstage with a guitar. He opened with what sounded like an Irish song, in Polish, and then moved onto more traditional but lively songs. I couldn't understand a word, but it was great fun to watch the locals clap and sing along. And to hear "Wild Rover" in Polish later in the night and laugh about it with the locals was an unexpected and beautiful bonus.

14 August: Mikołajki

I woke up with a vicious hangover, having had a night with a couple of interesting and intelligent Polish girls about life. This was the view from my window this morning.

The girls are around my age, and were 9 years old when communism collapsed here along with the wall in Berlin. They said that everything changed almost immediately and opened up. It still amazes me that this stuff happened in my lifetime.

I rented a kayak, paddled out across the lake for a couple of hours and went for a swim to chase away the bastard behind my eyes. In that introspective thing that comes from time to time, it occurred to me that I'm kind of representing my family and friends on my travels. The beautiful and interesting places are the setting, the context, but it's the people, and the exchange of ideas and histories and cultures, and its opposite number - quiet reflection - that are the thing.

For every sunrise, there's a sunset. And this is tonight's. Shepherd's fuckin' delight, baby.

I had a fun night catching up again briefly with those girls but spoke most of the time to the man mixing my cocktails. He had the contrasting jobs of working in that bar for a few weeks and working on an oil platform in the North Sea off Norway the rest of the time. What a trip! If he could produce oil like he mixes cockies we'd either have permanent global war or permanent global peace. I'm not sure which

15 August: Mikołajki - Warsaw

I've got a flight to Kiev from Warsaw tomorrow so I made the trip down today. As it happens, it's Independence Day here today so there's not much open but happily I don't want to be running around doing lots of touristy things today. Warsaw's bloody big so it would be quite a mission. I came to an internet cafe, and while I've been in here there's been an awesome thunderstorm outside. So I'm sitting here, doing this, having a beer and listening to the karaoke they've got on and having some random banter about tomorrow's rugby. It's all good.

16 August: Warsaw - Kiev

It was interesting to get an aerial view of the Polish countryside on the flight to Kiev. Instead of the square shape you see in fields in many countries, the Polish fields I saw use long, thin, rectangular strips of land which gives the appearance of a massive wood laminate floor.

The instant heat on arrival into Kiev reminded me of Baghdad, as soon as you step from the plane to the terminal bus. At somewhere in the high 30s or low 40s c, the headline temperature wasn't quite as hot, but the humidity made up for it, and more. I've come to Kiev to meet up with a mate from my Baghdad days. He was the front man in the band I was in there, so when I saw him in the arrivals hall the Baghdad parallel was complete, both of us sweaty, excited and, above all, thirsty.

Kiev is unlike any other city I've been to. It's majestic, enormous, confusing and totally intriguing. It's as East as it gets if you're talking about Europe. Coming here with no knowledge of Russian, let alone comprehension of the Cyrillic alphabet, makes this a pretty overwhelming place. It's a little like Bangkok in terms of its size and chaos, and also the temperature for the first couple of days, though they say this is unusual for Kiev. But in Bangkok there are English signs everywhere so it's easy to navigate the city. Not here.

In some ways I think the Cyrillic alphabet is more confusing than, say, Arabic or Urdu. At least with those alphabets you know you've got no chance. But because some characters in the Cyrillic alphabet bear some kind of resemblance to ours, your brain leads you up blind alleys trying to identify how words might sound. In Germany I found it easy to remember a few words, as many have been assimilated into English while others, such as numbers, are similar enough that you can work with them without too much trouble. Estonian is part of the Finno-Ugric family of languages and would be a difficult language to learn, but the alphabet is similar to ours, with a few dots and squiggles thrown into the mix. Latvian and Lithuanian are the 2 surviving Baltic branches of the Indo-European family, and again bear similarity to our alphabet with minor variations. Polish is a bit more of a curve ball, with some pronunciations being very different from what you'd expect, but again the characters themselves are broadly recognisable. With the Cyrillic alphabet, you're pretty much robbed of any such reference point.

So I was very fortunate that my friend has lived and worked in or near this region for years and is fluent in Russian to the point of it being more or less his first language. But why Russian, if we're in Ukraine? It's true that Ukrainian is the official language here, and everyone is taught in Ukrainian. Official announcements and the TV news are delivered in Ukranian. However, the vast majority of Ukrainians use Russian in everyday conversation and don't like to speak Ukrainian. There are "language police" who might check up on businesses, so menus in bars and restaurants are in Ukrainian but almost everyone interacts in Russian, so they jump through the hoops that they have to jump through in order to keep the authorities happy, but in reality Russian is king.

We went to a karaoke bar one night which was one of the more unique and random experiences I've had. The songs were in Russian, so while I couldn't identify any of the songs or the words, it was an eye opener to say the least. The group on the table behind us were half singing, half slurring songs from the old gangster city of Odessa, so we were speculating as to whether they would belt out a couple of numbers and the go launder some money or something. My mate, for his part, sang a few Russian songs, very well, which went down a treat. He'd always told me in Baghdad about how he'd go to karaoke bars in Ukraine, Georgia, Russia or in the Stans and belt out songs in Russian, so it was nice to see the man in action. There were a few songs on the menu in English, so I could have got up and sang something, but I was concerned that if I did, the gangsters on the table behind might have had me "clipped" and buried in cement, so I kept my counsel and happily absorbed the experience.

The next day we went to one of several beaches lining the Dnipro River, which splits the city. The sand was fine, and the water was the perfect temperature for another sweltering day. Joe's girlfriend' Natalia, doesn't speak a word of English so poor Joe had to translate for 3 days, which must have been exhausting.

In the 1930s, under Stalin, a farmer might be visited by a State official, who would ask how much the farmer produced. If the farmer replied, say, 2 tonnes of whatever per year, the State official would say that the farmer had to produce 4 tonnes, of which the first 3.5 went to the State and the farmer could keep the rest. Natalia's grandmother was around 11 years old when starvation nearly claimed her. She went blind and her skin was a dark, almost black colour from malnutrition. Her brother led her 11 kilometres to the nearest hospital, where they took her in. She survived, regained her sight and is alive and well today, as is her brother. Other family members - there were 8 siblings - didn't make it, along with so many others. Yet another tragic but fascinating personal account that's one of millions that make up the crazy history of the region.

One thing that made me laugh was the driving. There would be no point asking a cab driver to get you from A to B as fast as possible - that's the default approach. It's like being in a game of Grand Theft Auto. These guys like driving like maniacs about as much as they like vodka. And they like vodka just fine.

19 August: Kiev - Warsaw - Krakow

By the time I left Kiev, I'd become a little more comfortable with Cyrillic, and found myself able to seek out and identify a few characters. I still think it would take a good while to be anything like comfortable with the whole alphabet, and there's no doubt that learning the language would be a monumental task. I had a great time in Kiev and would recommend it to anyone, though if you can get a guide who can navigate the lingo for you it would be money well spent.

So it was in and out of Warsaw and a late evening arrival into Krakow. And straight in and out for what turned into a late night with some people from the hostel at a good club which was underground with arches with a couple of main rooms. I knew I would party in Krakow but it turned out to be a big session. It was fun dancing on a bar until the sun came up. Krakow's got a nice feel to it and the people are friendly. I was keen to go to the Wieliczka salt mine nearby and would have considered Auschwitz too, but sadly got round to neither. I'll have to come back to Krakow and see it properly.

22 August: Krakow - Zakopane

Zakopane, nestled at the foot of the Tatra mountains, is my last stop on the way to Slovakia. I was looking forward to coming here and hoping to do some hiking in the hills, but the weather's closed in and my foot's giving me grief. I'm going to an area of national park which is said to be spectacular, so I don't feel so bad about missing out here.

Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania

2008-07-28T10:42:00.001+01:00

22 July: Berlin - Stockholm - Tallinn

Getting the ferry from Stockholm to Tallinn was a good move. Pistol calm water and postcard coastline turned this voyage from an experience into a privilege. Dusk didn't really fall until around 11, and never truly became night. It was amusing too - the Finns (the Finnish, not half of Crowded House) made a bee-line for the onboard supermarket and stocked up on booze, headed to the outdoor decks and cracked on. I was happy to have a smoke and watch the Baltic float by. I shared a cabin with 3 other guys, 2 of whom didn't speak, and the other who was a Finn but lived between his houses in Sweden and Estonia, and whose name and any other details I couldn't decipher.

Tallinn's old town is picturesque enough, if a little too touristy (posed the tourist...). For a capital city, it's tiny. Quite a contrast after Berlin. I had a wander around for a few hours and went to the beach. I met a lesbian couple from Berlin so had a chat with them about where I'd been while I was there. I didn't try and line one up. You know what I'm talking about.

The one place I really wanted to see was the former KGB Headquarters, but I couldn't find it for love nor money. Being what it is, it may have been ironically located, maybe you had to solve a riddle of some kind to work out where it really was. If I come back after Pärnu I'll have another look.

I'm keen to get out of Tallinn before the stag parties arrive for the weekend, so I'm off south.

24 July: Tallinn - Pärnu

I've thought long and hard about it, and I have to say Estonia's got the most beautiful women in any country I've been to. It takes some doing to trump Brazil, Sweden and Ibiza, but Estonia's a match for anywhere.

I took a cab to the bus station and was picked up by the hottest taxi driver I have ever seen. She was a bit like the taxi driver on Pulp Fiction - she drove like a maniac, was exotic, slightly mad and totally fascinating.

A 2 hour bus ride and you're in Pärnu, on the coast of south western Estonia. It's only a small place, but it's said to be the Ibiza of Estonia. People come here from all over the country to party at weekends, and a fine job they do too. It's not the 24/7 mash up that Ibiza can be, but it's great fun and it's been good to get away from the tourist trail and come to meet locals. The beach is a cracker, massive and covered with white sand, and with stunning women everywhere it doesn't take long to get jesters shoes on. I have to fight the urge to sit there taking pictures of all the women, but I've just managed it. Sorry guys.

Posing and beach volleyball are the 2 distinct but very much related pastimes here. They do both well. Estonians are also very friendly and keen to know about other places. It's not as cheap as you might expect, though. The economy's coming along at a fair clip and prices are not actually that much less than London. It's still well worth your while to visit here. I will be a happy man if Latvia's even half this good.

29 July: Pärnu - Riga

You know you're living a good lifestyle if the worst thing that happens to you in a day is being "forced" to spend a few more hours at the beach. But with my intended bus full and no more for 5 hours, that was the tragedy that befell me. I met a local girl who kept me in Estonia for a day longer than anticipated too, again tough luck.

I arrived in Riga in the evening and headed out to get a feel for the city. I got talking to a dude from Stockholm who was touring with his rock band, "My Machete". An entertaining character, 46 going on 16 and still living some semblance of the dream. Being a front man for a rock band, he found it impossible not to try drawing attention to himself. When it got to throwing nuts at people on surrounding tables, I had to split.

Latvia itself is a gem. Riga was founded in 1201 because the Pope reckoned those Baltic heathens could do with some religion. It's endured centuries of occupation and colonisation by, variously, Russia, Germany, Poland and Sweden. It only declared independence in 1991, so like its neighbours it is relatively recently that it became what it is now, and the transition is still happening. Also, like Tallinn and other cities in the region, there is an old and new town. Although pockets of Riga's Old Town are unloved and falling apart, there's still a surprise around every corner. Even the New Town isn't all that new - much of it was taking shape by the 18th century.

The pace of life seems really relaxed, except the maniac drivers screeching around on the cobbled streets. There are a couple of big open squares lined with cafes where you can soak up the evening sun and some cocktails and watch people wind down. This is much more like how I envisaged a Baltic capital would, and should, be.

And we have this week's Tramp of the Week. This was an easy choice, this guy totally means it. There were a couple of other contenders, but I love his style. He could be in the frame for Ace of Tramps, depending on how the competition measures up further south.

awesome.

1 August: Riga - Liepaja

I had a great time in Riga, met some nice folks at the hostel but was looking to get out of Riga for the weekend (again, before the stag parties flooding in) and meet some locals, and Liepaja's been the perfect place to do it. I guess you'd say it's the Latvian equivalent of Pärnu, the difference being everyone I met here is from here and not somewhere else in Latvia. It's got a lively music scene and if I'd been here last weekend I'd have caught the biggest beach party in the Baltics. Even so, I was still lucky and coming here for the weekend was definitely the right move. There was a good beach party on Friday and I met loads of people there who I also caught up with on Saturday night at a couple of clubs. Really sound people. Again, friendly girls and I ended up staying a couple more days.

So tomorrow it's off to Lithuania, again to a smaller beach town before heading to the capital for the weekend. At least that's if I can get the bus. It's only around 100km away but I think getting there can be tricky sometimes. Fingers crossed I make it, but if I don't it's not the end of the world.

3 August: Liapaja - Palanga

I didn't get off to Lithuania for another couple of days. I met up with a guy I'd met over the weekend, a cool guy, and he drove me around the old and new parts of the city giving me a tour which was good of him. The next day I went for a big walk and checked out an old military prison which had been recommended to me by several people. It was originally a hospital on the biggest naval base the Russians had built in the Baltics at the start of the 20th century but there was a riot and the authorities had nowhere to put the offenders, so they converted the hospital into a prison. And through successive periods of Russian and Gernam occupation of Latvia, that's how the place remained. During Nazi times, alleged traitors, deserters and spies were kept there. Periodically, when enough of them had been sentenced to death by courts martial, a group would be made to kneel in the courtyard. Two rows of Nazi soldiers - one standing, the other kneeling - would shoot from 30m. The standing soldiers took the head shot, the kneeling soldiers the chest. After a while they abandoned this practice and simply shot each offender in the back of the head.

The bus to Palanga, when I got it, was easy enough, just an hour or so and literally cheap as chips. The evening sun had resurfaced by the time I got there so the town was busy with people out enjoying it. My hotel was 3km out of town, an an area for camping and chilling, and maybe a touch further away than I'd have planned ideally but still a fantastic setting despite there being nowhere to eat, drink or meet people.

It's Wednesday and I came back into town for breakfast while it was overcast again, not optimistic about the prospect of getting some sun. Early afternoon turned the tables and it turned into a beautiful day, so I rented a bike and rode through a pine forest to my place and the beach. Very, very mellow, and it made staying a little out of the action an unexpected bonus.

7 August: Palanga - Vilnius

Lithuania's capital is stunning. A beautiful old town meets the stylish new, and everywhere you turn there's another scene that takes your breath away.

It has that kind of homely feel that's sometimes found in a country's second city but not its biggest. I was lucky enough to meet a lot of local people and enjoyed hanging out with them. They're fiercely proud of their country in a way I've not encountered so far on this trip. One guy I'd chatted to in the afternoon of the Friday took me to a real locals' bar so I stayed there and watched the opening ceremony of the Olympics. I cheered when Lithuania's team came out and the locals responded by cheering on NZ. I also went to check out the Frank Zappa memorial. He's got nothing to do with Lithuania, but a group of people that totally buzzed off his music got together and made it happen.

There was no way I could not go to Pacha while in Vilnius; it opened here last year. I'd been to a cocktail bar at the top of a hotel with some locals and then on to the club. Unfortunately the clubs here have a "face control" policy so they only let foreigners and only the best looking locals in, so it was less authentic than I wanted. Still, I had fun.

Saturday night I ventured out to another club that had been recommended to me and which doesn't have a face control policy, so it was a lot of fun and again I met some really good people. Another late night so I was feeling the pace by Sunday. I sat in a cafe which is in a sort of open area just off one of the main streets, and was treated to the random sight of about 3 dozen people dancing in the swing/1930's sort of style. It was really cool to see, I have to say. They were so talented. It's not often you get entertainment this random and for free. That night I met up with a friend and we hung out the next day at a really pretty picture-postcard town called Trakai, which is situated on an amazingly calm lake. And then it was off to get the overnight bus to Poland.

The Baltics have been great. Despite the difficult histories of these countries, the people have been cool everywhere I've been and I'd have no hesitation recommending anywhere here. It's a little more expensive than I'd foreseen, and inflation is one of the biggest issues affecting all 3 countries. It's preventing them from adopting the Euro too, and I don't see that changing anytime soon. I haven't been to places where the scenery is overwhelming, though it's been pleasant enough. For me, it's the people that have made the Baltics, and also the mixture of interesting old-old buildings and cities, and the interesting, if kind of harrowing histories and the fact that these countries have only been independent less than 20 years. Next up is Poland, which will be quieter for me as I need to chill for a bit, and I'm looking forward to it.

But first, it's time for Tramp of the Week! This, my friends, is technique.

I felt so bad about taking her picture that I dropped some money in her cup for services she doesn't know she's rendered.

Amsterdam, Hamburg, Berlin

2008-07-28T09:40:00.001+01:00

14 July: London - Amsterdam

Amsterdam seemed the ideal place to start this trip, and that's how it turned out. I'd been there a few times before and had some pretty messy weekends there, so I didn't feel the need to go crazy this time. I've had more trips than I care to remember, when I started with a big effort on the first day/night and that set the tone for the rest of the trip. My mind and body can't maintain that level for 3 months, not any more, so I'm looking at a slow start for this one.

One thing that always gets me about Amsterdam is what a sweet place it would be to live. The pace of, and attitude towards, life is relaxed. It's got that "anything goes" outlook, a bit Thailand but without old, fat white men shagging kids. They've just introduced a smoking ban in cafes and bars, including coffee shops. So now, while the rest of the world's authorities check your cigarettes for weed, in Amsterdam they check for tobacco but have no beef with the weed. Beautiful.

16 July: Amsterdam - Hamburg

Hamburg kept the relaxed vibe going for a couple more days. I was staying at Reeperbahn, which is home to what they say is the biggest red light district in Europe. It was pretty lively but I didn't fancy forking out half my travel budget to go and stare at implants. Hamburg was quite pretty, just what you'd expect of an old German city and the kind of place your Mum would like.

When I was working in London recently, I worked near London Bridge so would often see those open top buses ferrying brave and desperate tourists around through driving rain and howling gales. There they'd sit on the open top deck, gritting their teeth as they lined up the next photo in the face of a Force Five. And I'd laugh and mock, safe in the certainty that you'd never get me on one of those. But in Hamburg, I became that guy. It wasn't raining but that's no excuse. To be fair, it was a useful way to get my bearings to be able to have a walk around later. I had a look at the usual stuff but there was one unusual museum in the form of a U Boat. I wasn't sure whether to feel underwhelmed or not - I'd never been on a sub before and the engineering involved to put one of those things together was impressive, but it was made by the Russians in 1976. so was too old to be technologically amazing and too young to have a particularly interesting story.

I saw a great tramp in Hamburg too, sleeping on a bench. He was edgy - a dude who'd made his choice and was sticking by it. Unfortunately I didn't get a picture of him. I'd like to have a running "Tramp of the Week" feature, ending with awarding the best one from the whole trip the title "Ace of Tramps". I'm not sure what the tramp scene's like in eastern Europe - watch this space.

Another thing I'll be keeping an eye out for is amusing street signs. This one seemed to give some pretty sensible instructrions. Not sure what the last thing is though?!

18 July: Hamburg - Berlin

I have to say, Berlin's one of the best cities I've been to and I'd happily come again. The first thing that got me about it was the scale of everything. Berlin's spread over an area of 892 square km, and makes use of the space. On street after street you encounter imposing, impressive buildings that leave you in no doubt about Berlin's cultural and historical richness. Berlin's as much a statement as it is a city. Music, art, trade, war - evidence of all the strands which, when woven together, somehow make a city more significant, is all over the place. I'm not really one for churches, and don't see myself going inside many in the next couple of months, but when I look at some in their own right - cosmetically, instead of what they represent - I have to admire them. They're all over Berlin.

I went up the Fernsehturm ("TV Tower") which gives an unrivalled aerial view of the city. From here you could see how abruptly East meets West, and the contrast between the two. It seems incredible that two such differing places can have existed, right next to each other, not even 20 years ago. I get the feeling I'll have a similar sensation in a few countries I visit. The East is grim. Soviet style tower blocks lined up like dominoes, devoid of any colour or expression. Living here during the partition of Berlin must have been intolerable. Dozens of people died trying to break from East to West. One day, I needed to get the U-Bahn (tube/metro) from where I was staying in the East, towards the West side of the city. There was something up with the trains and none were coming, so I took another route on the S-Bahn. No chance of that choice a few years ago.

I nearly became Open Top Bus tourist again, but took it down a peg or two and did a boat trip instead. They gave us some headphones to listen to the blurb about each place we passed, but the English commentary had been done by a dalek, or perhaps Stephen Hawking, so I stuck some music on instead, put my feet up and floated around Berlin. I recommend it. About the only other thing I'd dwell on specifically is Brandenburg Gate. With my limited sense of history I thought it was built as part of the wall, but it's been there a touch longer than that. When you read about it, it reinforces the sensation you get about how long Berlin's been around.

I liked the German word for barbequeing:

And, related to the "amusing signs" I will also keep an eye out for signs that are the same of friends' names. Mina, this one's for you buddy.

You could probably spend a year here and still not fully appreciate what Berlin is, what it's been and what it's given in between. But it's further east I'm really looking, so with a sense of excitement, that's where I'm heading next.

Private security companies

2007-09-18T15:31:00.001+01:00

Last week there was an incident in which a private security company killed 8 and wounded 13 civilians on the streets of Baghdad. The convoy was returning to the green zone when a bomb or rocket went off close by, and the security personnel opened fire on the street. This was by no means the first such incident - there have been many of these. The company concerned was Blackwater, a US based company. The Iraqi authorities have reacted by saying enough is enough and it will expel Blackwater and its employees from Iraq, as well as prosecuting the individuals involved. Blackwater is a huge company and has the contract to provide protection to US State department personnel, including the US Ambassador, in all movements outside the green zone. Its expulsion would be a significant problem for the US if it happens.

I think it would serve them right. Blackwater has long been the company that likes to think it can operate above the law. I would estimate no less than 70% of the incidents involving a private security company killing or wounding civilians on the streets of Baghdad have been Blackwater. They didn't even bother to get a licence until a few months ago. The company has ties to the Republican party and basically has patronage from the US government which might explain why it thinks its above the system. The actions of Blackwater have always cast a shadow over the entire private security industry in Iraq. The vast majority of companies do operate professionally and are not the trigger happy mercenaries the media like to portray. Unfortunately, this latest incident will likely lead to a review by the Iraq authorities of all companies' licences, so it might well be that some other companies get kicked out even if they have operated with restraint and professionalism, and within the law.

It remains to be seen whether Blackwater really will get kicked out. Condoleeza Rice has personally intervened to try and stop this from happening. The importance of this can't be made clear enough - this is a real litmus test of how independent the Iraqi government really is from the US administration. Everyone in Baghdad knows that Blackwater is by far the worst offender and that it has always operated above the law. Whether the Iraqis go ahead and expel the company will be one of the clearest signs yet of whether they are really able to dictate their own policies independently of US wishes.

Part of the problem is the Iraqis' own making though. They were supposed to pass a law to regulate the private security industry but have failed to do so. I saw a draft law several months ago and it was a shambles. It conflicted with other laws and had inconsistencies in itself, and was going to be a total failure if it became law. I warned of this in an address to an audience with many members of PSCs and Iraqi officials from the Ministry of Interior, which is the government agency responsible for overseeing the industry. That was months ago, and we still haven't seen a next draft. The sooner they pass a law that works, the sooner they will be able to regulate the industry properly and get rid of companies without having to wait for incidents like the one last week.

Another issue at work is self interest of government ministers and people connected with the Ministry of Interior. In the last 12 months around 6 or 7 foreign PSCs have been issued with a licence from the Ministry of Interior, against about 20 odd Iraqi PSCs. The Iraq companies are all owned by government ministers and people in the Ministry of Interior. Clearly, they're trying to freeze out the foreign companies so that the contracts all go to the Iraqi companies. Aside from the corruption of this, it will spell disaster for the performance of those contracts. But hey, it's their country and we weren't invited so I can't honestly say we can claim any moral high ground. It's just a shame that the companies who do a good job protecting reconstruction contractors, NGOs, Iraqi officials and others could be sidelined despite doing a good job under difficult circumstances. There are many of you who read this and say "well they're only mercenaries anyway" but that's simplistic and ignores the reality not portrayed in the media. Guys like Blackwater behave like mercenaries, not the industry as a whole.

And, I should add, the vast majority of employees working for most of the companies in the industry are Iraqi. There are many foreigners, but mostly it's Iraqis doing the job. That's probably something else the newspapers don't mention.

The Pull Out Method (Pt. II)

2007-09-12T09:45:00.001+01:00

The long anticipated report to Congress from America's commanding General and its Ambassador to Iraq has finally passed. It looks to have been a waste of time in some ways - looking at the response of the Democratic senators, they've long since made their minds up about things so the last couple of days' testimony wasn't going to change a great deal in reality. Democrats want the US to pull troops out of Iraq as soon as possible and in any event to have as many as possible out of Iraq before January 2009, when they are fairly likely to take over the White House and it becomes their headache.

General Petaeus predicted that troop levels should be able to return by next summer to the pre-surge levels of 130,000, because violence in Baghdad and the western Anbar province has dropped. This ignores the fact that violence overall - if you take into account cities outside of Baghdad - has slightly increased. Perhaps more importantly, the US cannot maintain current troop levels beyond another 8 months. Rotations have been extended time and again and the strain is biting. The purpose of the testimony before Congress is to make it look like Bush has the ability to choose when to reduce troop numbers.

One thing I found interesting was the amount of mention given to Al Qaeda. It roughly goes, "we have been successful in pushing Al Qaeda out of Anbar and if we were to pull troops out then Al Qaeda would take control and be a big threat to the US". That's just ridiculous. First off, it was the Sunni tribal leaders' decision that they didn't want AQ in their area anymore that resulted in the stabilisation of Anbar. Instead of fighting against the US, the Sunni tribal chiefs joined forces with them to get rid of AQ. Second, although the headline violence is often committed by AQ (truck bombs etc) AQ probably only accounts for about 5 - 10% of the insurgency in Iraq. Third, Iraq has a Shia majority population and government (and security forces) and Iran next door so it's laughable to suggest that AQ, which is largely Sunni, would be able to overrun Iraq.

Politically, the situation is dire. Maliki's "unity" government is a shambles and reconciliation between Sunnis and Shiites is non existent.

ironic

2007-08-14T18:12:00.001+01:00

So I spend several months in Baghdad and don't get a scratch, and 2 days into my holiday I get hit by a car. It'll be 2 or 3 months before I can go back to Baghdad but will try and write something soon. There's enough to write about.

Peace
S

The pull out method

2007-07-10T10:08:00.001+01:00

Again it's been a long time since I wrote. That's partly because I've been busy when I've been here in Baghdad, partly because I've been away sometimes and partly because I don't know where to start. There's so much going on here and you can hardly pick up a western newspaper (or an Eastern one probably) without there being something about Iraq in there. Since I last wrote, there have been some potential laws referred to the Iraqi parliament, Tony Blair's mercifully departed office, several hundred Iraqis and dozens of coalition soldiers have been killed, support for Bush's surge has been collapsing, and Bush commuted "Scooter" Libby's jail sentence for obstructing an investigation into the leaking the identity of a CIA operative whose husband discredited one of Bush's pre-war claims about Iraq's "WMD". And there's been much more, but that's enough to list for now.

So..... the surge. Is it "working"? Is it time to pull the troops out? I was at a wedding in Sweden recently and everyone I met posed the question and had their own view on it. But is it possible to answer that question yet? I don't believe so. There continue to be headline-grabbing attacks now and then. About a month ago, a Shia shrine in Samarra was bombed, again, toppling 2 minarets and causing extensive damage. This was the same shrine whose golden dome was bombed in February 2006. That attack was what is widely understood to have really kicked off the sectarian trouble that still rumbles on today. There was a curfew imposed after last month's bombing for 3 days, as the authorities feared it would cause another increase in sectarian bloodshed. I never bought that, because the level of violence is already at a level that would be difficult to increase significantly further. There may have been a slight increase but I think that is mainly due to Al Qaeda wanting to put as much pressure on the US as possible in advance of September, when General Petraeus is due to report to Congress on whether the surge is working.

And that pressure is shown by high profile bombs such as the truck bomb that exploded in Kirkuk on Saturday, the death toll for which could top 150.

Not helping the situation is the continued uselessness of the Iraqi government. The Kurdish Regional Government has been pressing ahead and has agreed its own oil legislation and agreed a revenue sharing draft law with the federal government in Baghdad. The process isn't going anywhere fast in Baghdad however. It is likely at this stage that the Kurds will pass their own oil law allowing them to sign agreements with foreign oil companies, even before the Iraqi government passes its own oil and gas law (which was almost agreed in February but is now being rejected by the Kurds because the Sunnis and Shiites basically re-wrote it at a later conference). There's talk of making the revenue sharing law dependent on the federal oil and gas law, so this will take a while longer to be passed. There's little or no parliamentary activity going on at the moment anyway. Many of the MPs are out of the country for summer so raising a quorum is not necessarily going to be possible. Which could be lucky for Maliki, as a vote of no confidence is apparently being proposed against him in 5 days' time. It's questionable whether that vote will be passed, as explained better by the excellent Juan Cole blog.

So all in all I think it is too early to tell whether the surge will work. It's only in the last couple of weeks that the troop numbers have hit their peak, and violence does continue, albeit that some of it has spread from Baghdad to other places. I've heard it called the "water bed effect" whereby if you push down in one place, others rise. There are good signs in some other parts of the country, though. The western Anbar province was once a hotbed of Al Qaeda in Iraq activity but the Sunni tribal leaders there have had enough of Al Qaeda and are now fighting with the coalition troops to drive them out. That was unfathomable at the end of last year. So I think more time is needed to see how it will play out.

The Americans I have spoken to are very divided on the issue. Some think the troops should get out now, while others think that if that happens, a full blown civil war will erupt. Timing is everything though. It would be a sad irony if the surge, which is probably about the first thing Bush has got potentially right, is scuppered now by a Democratic controlled Congress which only starts asserting itself about 4 years too late, or by Republicans distancing themselves from Bush. It's unfortunate that what happens will be dictated not by events on the ground here, but political necessities in Washington. What you do clearly see now is how isolated Bush is becoming. Congressional delegations and people running for the Democratic or Republican presidential nominations for the next election are making trips out here to speak to people and get their own impression of events on the ground. I think John McCain is over here at the moment so that he can go back and come out with a statement of some sort that improves his chances of nomination. Whatever happens with troop numbers, Maliki has to go if there's to be any progress.

More on the hapless and cretinous parliament: on June 10 the parliament voted to change the Speaker of the Council of Representatives after one MP got his bodyguards to beat up another MP when he walked past his office. As the person who sent me the report said, "so, Iraqi democracy coming along nicely".

Mind you, with Bush commuting Scooter Libby's sentence to shut him up, democracy in America isn't exactly perfect. (Clinton was no saint either - he issued 140 full pardons in his final hours as president, among them to Marc Rich, whose lawyer was.... scooter Libby. If you're not too bored with reading about corrupt bastards looking after themselves in Washington you can read more here.)

An inside job?

2007-05-30T17:50:00.001+01:00

The adviser who was kidnapped yesterday was at the Ministry of Finance as part of a process to implement transparency in government procurement. At the moment, ministers and flunkies are taking millions of dollars in corrupt payments to influence the awarding of contracts. So, this new system to make the process more transparent means a lot of people stand to lose a lot of dead presidents. All of which points the finger at involvement not just within the Iraqi Police, but also the Ministry of Finance.

The Guardian reports today that the Ministry of Interior "became politicised by Shia extremists under the previous minister, Bayan Jabr, a leader of the Badr organisation and the Supreme Council for the Islamic Revolution in Iraq - Iraq's largest Shia political party. Mr Jabr encouraged members of the Badr brigade to take up key posts in the ministry and subvert its operations." The Ministry of Interior is one of the worst arms of government you could imagine. Corruption is rife and sectarianism is evident in everything it does. The article goes on to report that Babyan Jabr has moved to the Ministry of Finance but still controls the MOI's budget and police salaries. If that's not a man with likely involvement I don't know who is. The Ministry of Finance was where the kidnapping took place and it's clear that the adviser was targeted from the fact that the kidnappers stormed into the room shouting "where are the foreigners?". Add the police involvement (controlled by the MOI) and a picture emerges.

The Times reported that a Mahdi Army official denied their involvement but said that they "called the Iraqi police in the area and they told us it was uniformed men speaking with Sunni accents". So either the police or the Mahdi Army are trying to blame it on the Sunnis but that doesn't seem remotely credible. For one, the two Ministries involved (Finance and Interior) are both Shia controlled, and the Ministry of Finance is on the edge of Sadr City, a Shia area. There's no way the Sunnis would have had the access to the area to conduct an operation like that. Look at the connection between Babyan Jabr and the Badr Brigade and you have a more likely scenario.

So hopefully the Garda guys and the BearingPoint guy will come back alive.

What a place.

Another Day in Paradise (not in the Phil Collins sense...)

2007-05-29T19:55:00.001+01:00

Another day in paradise. A finance expert and his security team were kidnapped from the Ministry of Finance this morning. This is the first time a Westerner has been kidnapped from a Ministry as far as I know and the scale of the operation is such that it's looking likely the police themselves were involved. That ought to be news that's more good than bad in the bigger scheme of things, because if the police were involved the outcome will more likely be a peaceful one. If the Sunnis or Al Qaeda are the snatchers, less so. Police involvement would suggest a Shia angle so there is hope that this would be a political move. It should never have happened, and there will be obvious questions as to how this happened, but they can be asked and answered after the fate of the man and his PSD is known. As it goes, I've met him and probably at least one of the PSD guys that were taken, and hope personally as well as morally that all will work out.

Meanwhile, the US and Iran sat down over a cuppa for the first time since 1980. The only thing on the agenda was Iraq which is a good thing. No bleating about uranium enrichment from the US; no whining about spies within its borders from Iran. Whether or not these talks produce anything of substance is important, and on track record of late you'd have to be a pessimist. But that these talks are even taking place would have been unimaginable not so long ago. It's clear evidence, if any were needed, that the power of Cheney and Bush is giving way to a more conciliatory train of thought within the US Government. And about time too. There has to be a recognition that, whether or not dialogue with Iran and Syria is likely to produce results, the mere possibility is reason enough to have a crack.

As for me, I've been fine. There's been a fair amount of incoming but not right where I am and not such that I feel threatened. I can't recall whether I ever mentioned it, but I joined/formed a band a while ago and we're having a lot of fun. There may be some people who read this and shake their heads and say "shame on you for partying it up". This is a difficult environment so you have to try and bring a little familiarity and humanity. We played on a villa's roof on Friday and it was great setting up the gear when it was still light, looking to the background and seeing all the date palms and a couple of landmarks. One of the more unique gigs you could ever play, as ours all are.

I've not been so busy with work lately so have been watching a recent US TV series called Deadwood. It's about a US goldrush town in the 1870s that was lawless and became annexed to the Dakota territory. (To read about the series click here, or about the place itself click here). There are certainly similarities between that place and Baghdad and it was interesting to think about that. Another interesting thing I came across (well I find it interesting anyway) is an article I read today that was written in 1920 by T. E. Lawrence. You can read the text here and again it's amazing the similarities between the circumstances of 87 years ago and those existing now and in the past 4 years. The patterns of colonialism and/or the attempts, by whatever means and with whichever intentions, seem to be fairly constant. Which makes you hope on the one hand if things will eventually work themselves out, but wonder on the other why the fuck we never learn from our mistakes.

The long goodbye

2007-05-20T09:31:00.001+01:00

At last, Tony Blair is off. He came to Baghdad unannounced yesterday for a last chat with the big guns here and 3 mortars went off in the IZ just as he was arriving. He went down to Basra for a "morale boosting" session with British troops down there and again a mortar went off. It's funny reading suggestions that he may have been targeted - if he really was targeted there would have been 10 times as many projectiles coming in. There were a lot last week and apparently the week before, with some injuries and two Iraqis killed. It seems to have quietened down a bit the last few days; in fact it seems to have been a few quiet days generally across Baghdad. Only a temporary respite, no doubt, but a welcome one.

The draft oil and gas law seems to have taken a few steps backwards. A significant part of the draft law is its annexes, which set out who controls which oil fields. There was a meeting in Dubai a few weeks ago at which the draft of the annexes was changed considerably, and the Kurdistan Regional Government won't back the law as it currently stands. So the law itself is a long, long way from being passed.

I joined a band a while ago which is proving, for me, to be the difference between tolerating being in Baghdad and positively enjoying it. We played a few gigs at various places, which were a mixture of private compounds or villas. We've been asked to play the UK and US embassies as well so those are a couple of gigs to look forward to. We were supposed to play the US Embassy last week but in the event we couldn't as our bass player wasn't back from leave in time. That was a relief in some ways because of the relative danger of playing a gig there - it would have been outside, by the pool, which gets hit by mortars from time to time. Would have been a hell of a buzz though.

In the US, finally Paul Wolfowitz has resigned as head of the World Bank. It's incredible that he was ever appointed, being as it was a major "up yours" to all those who opposed the invasion of Iraq, seeing as he was a chief architect of it. It's incredible too that he fought so hard to stay in the job when it was clear that the vast majority of the Bank's staff wanted him out and that he had clearly breached the Bank's rules on conflicts of interest. But that's symptomatic of the Bush crowd's arrogance. The US Attorney General, Alberto Gonzales, is in a similar predicament now. He was, it seems, instrumental in the sacking of 8 federal prosecutors in the US who failed to toe the Bush Administration's line on policy matters. That action badly undermines the separation between the legislature and the judiciary which is fundamental to valid democracies. It's probably only a matter of time before he will be fired or forced to resign, but it's another example of one of the neocon cabal that's grimly hanging on despite clear evidence of not being fit for the job.

It's getting warmer here by the day. Supposed to hit 42 celcius on Tuesday so it's getting towards the 3 months when it won't be below 40 and often gets to 50 or more. Shame there's no decent beach around here....

really close to home....

2007-04-22T15:02:00.000+01:00

This just landed this afternoon. 100 metres away at best. Didn't smash any windows but still pretty freaky...