No one can tell me why whilst feliz cumpleaños is happy birthday, the song in Spanish goes cumpleaños feliz...
Yesterday was my birthday - I am now a ripe old 23. Its custom here to celebrate the night before your birthday so that when midnight hits the fiesta starts (and doesn´t stop for the whole 24 hours!)
My wonderful friends here in Cusco took me out dancing all night and at 6am we went up the mountain to enjoy a frosty sunrise. At 7.30am I fell into bed and awoke at 11 to find some alpaca wool leg warmers and earrings, gifts from Emily. Perfect!
Thanks to everyone for your birthday wishes. I wonder where I will be this time next year....
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Monday, May 4, 2009
Santa Teresa - a trip from hell to a place of paradise
Life in South america has been easy; little sickness, only minor theft of belongings, generally good times and great people. Transport had been cheap and reliable, the weather clear.
So when we decided on a weekend vist to the thermal springs at Santa Teresa we were in high spirits. I had had a cold for 4 weeks and hoped that the cleansing natural springs might help me clear it.Off we set at 6pm, for an hour and a half collectivo ride to Ollantaytambo. Easy. Change onto the 8.30pm train with only three more hours travel before our destination. Easy.
¿Por favor, que hora es el tran a Santa Teresa?
No hay, solo para Peruanas, no para extranjeros!
Que!? Turns out that the only train was only for Peruvians. Ok, a bus then.
¿Que hora es la proxima bus a Santa Teresa?
Only two hours to wait. Good. We have hot pancho and chat with the stall lady. One hour later we are sprinting after our bus that has arrive early and not stopped. Sprinting at 3500 metres is a challenge, believe me. We make it to the other side of town (it´s a small town) to grab the bus as it is pulling away. Excellent!
Hmm, only one seat left for me. My chivalrous friends take the aisle. Four bone jarringly bumpy hours later we arrive, at 1.30 am at the town where we would connect to Santa Teresa. We find a collectivo but the driver insists on waiting for more buses to fill up his van with customers.
Luckily after just one hour we are full. At 2.30am we set off for a hours drive to the springs.
Forty minutes of bumpy and bendy road later we hit a problem. Water has washed away the mountain road ahead of us. We have to turn back and use the higher road. Forty minutes back to town. The next road is also unpaved, and higher up the mountain. We dont ask the driver how long it will be, we just want to be at the springs. It takes another hour and a half. At 5.30 in the morning, exhausted, dusty, wobbled to within an inch of our sanity, we pull in to Santa Teresa town. Finally.
Now just twenty minutes walk to the springs. ¡Bien! Five minutes later the shoe of a friend breaks, leaving him to hobble on pebbly ground for a walk which now takes thirty minutes.
Twelve hours after starting our apparently 4 hours journey we are soaking in blissfull, crystalline, naturally hot water, watching the sunrise over misty green mountains and feeling completely rejuventated.
So when we decided on a weekend vist to the thermal springs at Santa Teresa we were in high spirits. I had had a cold for 4 weeks and hoped that the cleansing natural springs might help me clear it.Off we set at 6pm, for an hour and a half collectivo ride to Ollantaytambo. Easy. Change onto the 8.30pm train with only three more hours travel before our destination. Easy.
¿Por favor, que hora es el tran a Santa Teresa?
No hay, solo para Peruanas, no para extranjeros!
Que!? Turns out that the only train was only for Peruvians. Ok, a bus then.
¿Que hora es la proxima bus a Santa Teresa?
Only two hours to wait. Good. We have hot pancho and chat with the stall lady. One hour later we are sprinting after our bus that has arrive early and not stopped. Sprinting at 3500 metres is a challenge, believe me. We make it to the other side of town (it´s a small town) to grab the bus as it is pulling away. Excellent!
Hmm, only one seat left for me. My chivalrous friends take the aisle. Four bone jarringly bumpy hours later we arrive, at 1.30 am at the town where we would connect to Santa Teresa. We find a collectivo but the driver insists on waiting for more buses to fill up his van with customers.
Luckily after just one hour we are full. At 2.30am we set off for a hours drive to the springs.
Forty minutes of bumpy and bendy road later we hit a problem. Water has washed away the mountain road ahead of us. We have to turn back and use the higher road. Forty minutes back to town. The next road is also unpaved, and higher up the mountain. We dont ask the driver how long it will be, we just want to be at the springs. It takes another hour and a half. At 5.30 in the morning, exhausted, dusty, wobbled to within an inch of our sanity, we pull in to Santa Teresa town. Finally.
Now just twenty minutes walk to the springs. ¡Bien! Five minutes later the shoe of a friend breaks, leaving him to hobble on pebbly ground for a walk which now takes thirty minutes.
Twelve hours after starting our apparently 4 hours journey we are soaking in blissfull, crystalline, naturally hot water, watching the sunrise over misty green mountains and feeling completely rejuventated.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Cuisine de Cusco
There are many things to enjoy in Cusco.
My days here are rushing past, filled with spanish school in the morning and volunteer work with children in the afternoons. The weekends are filled with daytrips to the surrounding Sacred Valley, market adventures and learning to salsa!
Emily and I have a policy of trying a new food everyday. So far my favourites include:
1. Rocoto relleno, a capiscum stuffed with a tasty vegie mixture then dipped in a batter similar to the indian pakora and fried.
2. Baked plantains and whole sweet potatoes bought from wheelbarrows in the street.
3. Rustic blocks of 100% cocoa chocolate, melted with milk its a perfect warmer on these cold nights.
4. Chicha, a local wine made from maize.
5. Chicha morada, a juice made from purple corn, boiled with pineapple juice and sugar.
6. And on the subject of juices, for a dollar the ladies in the market will whip up a combinado with pineapple, papaya, mango, banana, beetroot...
7. Lilas vegetarian restaurant in the market serves a two course meal, bigger than I can manage for $1.30.
8. Piccarones. Sweet potato batter deep fried into thin donuts and served drizzled with honey.
I havent yet tried the local speciality; Cuy. Whole baked guinea pig served head, claws and all.
Maybe one day...maybe not...
My days here are rushing past, filled with spanish school in the morning and volunteer work with children in the afternoons. The weekends are filled with daytrips to the surrounding Sacred Valley, market adventures and learning to salsa!
Emily and I have a policy of trying a new food everyday. So far my favourites include:
1. Rocoto relleno, a capiscum stuffed with a tasty vegie mixture then dipped in a batter similar to the indian pakora and fried.
2. Baked plantains and whole sweet potatoes bought from wheelbarrows in the street.
3. Rustic blocks of 100% cocoa chocolate, melted with milk its a perfect warmer on these cold nights.
4. Chicha, a local wine made from maize.
5. Chicha morada, a juice made from purple corn, boiled with pineapple juice and sugar.
6. And on the subject of juices, for a dollar the ladies in the market will whip up a combinado with pineapple, papaya, mango, banana, beetroot...
7. Lilas vegetarian restaurant in the market serves a two course meal, bigger than I can manage for $1.30.
8. Piccarones. Sweet potato batter deep fried into thin donuts and served drizzled with honey.
I havent yet tried the local speciality; Cuy. Whole baked guinea pig served head, claws and all.
Maybe one day...maybe not...
PS: Blog decorations thanks to Emilys beautiful photography!
Monday, March 23, 2009
Saltitude
This past lazy week has been spent enjoying the delights of Salta, in the north west of Argentina. This small, lowrise city is surrounded by forested mountains.
Hostal Zabala was our home, a share house complete with two chefs. Many days were spent simply preparing amazing food for the group of 10, 12, 15 people at a time. Meals were enjoyed with wine and followed by a dip in the pool and a ping pong tournament. What a life.
After a delightful week we have hit the road. And what a road! The landscapes in this part of the continent are truly breathtaking and undescribable in their variety. We passed through huge mountains, completely naked of all vegetation, red rock bare, reminiscent of Mars. Salt flats shone bright white on plateaus and candelabra cacti, 6 metres tall, covered plains. Wild llama roamed and gauchos rode bareback between small mud brick villages. Huge snow capped mountains provided the backdrop.
At the border crossing to Chile we piled out of the climate controlled bus to have our passports stamped. The air was fresh and frigid but the sun roasting hot. Emily and I joined the line and enjoyed the view. As I was standing there the strangest feeling came upon me. I began to get nauseous and weak. My arms and legs were tingling. I thought, Jeez, what was in that carrot I just ate? I sat on the ground for a moment with my eyes closed and breathed deeply. The line moved forward so up I got. On my feet I started to lose vision and balance and wobbled around before collapsing down. Emily says my face went completely white, my lips grey and she raced to get the water from the bus. Before she could return a guard whisked me to the medical room, containing nothing but an oxygen tank. After 5 minutes of deep breathing I was back to normal, my first experience with altitude sickness over. We had climbed almost 5000 metres above sea level. It was a complete shock but I was pleased to learn that the remedies include eating lots of delicious sugary food!
Hostal Zabala was our home, a share house complete with two chefs. Many days were spent simply preparing amazing food for the group of 10, 12, 15 people at a time. Meals were enjoyed with wine and followed by a dip in the pool and a ping pong tournament. What a life.
After a delightful week we have hit the road. And what a road! The landscapes in this part of the continent are truly breathtaking and undescribable in their variety. We passed through huge mountains, completely naked of all vegetation, red rock bare, reminiscent of Mars. Salt flats shone bright white on plateaus and candelabra cacti, 6 metres tall, covered plains. Wild llama roamed and gauchos rode bareback between small mud brick villages. Huge snow capped mountains provided the backdrop.
At the border crossing to Chile we piled out of the climate controlled bus to have our passports stamped. The air was fresh and frigid but the sun roasting hot. Emily and I joined the line and enjoyed the view. As I was standing there the strangest feeling came upon me. I began to get nauseous and weak. My arms and legs were tingling. I thought, Jeez, what was in that carrot I just ate? I sat on the ground for a moment with my eyes closed and breathed deeply. The line moved forward so up I got. On my feet I started to lose vision and balance and wobbled around before collapsing down. Emily says my face went completely white, my lips grey and she raced to get the water from the bus. Before she could return a guard whisked me to the medical room, containing nothing but an oxygen tank. After 5 minutes of deep breathing I was back to normal, my first experience with altitude sickness over. We had climbed almost 5000 metres above sea level. It was a complete shock but I was pleased to learn that the remedies include eating lots of delicious sugary food!
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Big Water
I wish now that I had made more effort to watch David Attenboroughs docmentary on the Iguazu Falls. To know something about the ecology of the park would have enhanced the visit tenfold. The name Iguazu in the local language translates as big water.
The falls were, as promised, spectacular. Huge torrents of water plunging over plant covered cliffs, birds of prey circling above in the updraft, cicadas and tropical birds filling the thick, wam air with sound.
We balanced on boardwalks to view the falls from three heights. Some walks went right over the top of falls, another went underneath. The final one took you over mangrove islands to the top of the largest fall. The violence of the water was such that you couldn´t see the river below; mist from the flow obscured the view.
The visit was disappointingly impersonal. Surrouded by tourists it was difficult to feel a connection to the place, despite appreciating the beauty. The highlight for me was the wildlife. In just one day, without looking very hard we saw a family of coaties, wild guinea pigs, a caiman chilling in the water, catfish, a furry, wild pig looking thing, mokeys, a toad almost the size of a football, countless lizards and birds, and butterflies. Butterflies of every shape, size and colour swarmed through the air creating clouds of brilliance.
The day ended with a three kilometre walk through the jungle to find a small fall that was off the beaten track and thus,we hoped, less tourist infested. It was sweltering hot and we were depserate for a swim. The pool under this distant fall is the only swimming place in the park. After 40 sweaty minutes of walking we were delighted to find a beatiful, slender fall with a natural pool and granite rocks for sunbathing. And only a few young folk like ourselves enjoying it! Again the butterflies had gathered to show off their stripes. Lying in the fall, with a group of butterflies surroundng me, enjoying the sunshine, was a profoundly peaceful experience.
The falls were, as promised, spectacular. Huge torrents of water plunging over plant covered cliffs, birds of prey circling above in the updraft, cicadas and tropical birds filling the thick, wam air with sound.
We balanced on boardwalks to view the falls from three heights. Some walks went right over the top of falls, another went underneath. The final one took you over mangrove islands to the top of the largest fall. The violence of the water was such that you couldn´t see the river below; mist from the flow obscured the view.
The visit was disappointingly impersonal. Surrouded by tourists it was difficult to feel a connection to the place, despite appreciating the beauty. The highlight for me was the wildlife. In just one day, without looking very hard we saw a family of coaties, wild guinea pigs, a caiman chilling in the water, catfish, a furry, wild pig looking thing, mokeys, a toad almost the size of a football, countless lizards and birds, and butterflies. Butterflies of every shape, size and colour swarmed through the air creating clouds of brilliance.
The day ended with a three kilometre walk through the jungle to find a small fall that was off the beaten track and thus,we hoped, less tourist infested. It was sweltering hot and we were depserate for a swim. The pool under this distant fall is the only swimming place in the park. After 40 sweaty minutes of walking we were delighted to find a beatiful, slender fall with a natural pool and granite rocks for sunbathing. And only a few young folk like ourselves enjoying it! Again the butterflies had gathered to show off their stripes. Lying in the fall, with a group of butterflies surroundng me, enjoying the sunshine, was a profoundly peaceful experience.
Monday, March 9, 2009
La Chica Loca
Every country I go people struggle to pronounce my name. On introductions the inevitable question "Whats your name?" And the reply of course "Gracie".
This is often met by a moment of silence before the confused person clarifies "Crazy? Your name is Crazy?"
No, Gracie, with a G as in... (insert word of local language that starts with G) ...But you can call me Crazy!
Here in South America I am Gracia, Graciella or La Chica Loca.
Last night this crazy girl got herself some tango. We visited the local milonga where people gather in a plaza to dance every weekend. The evening attracts all types; elegant elderly couples who are keeping the romance alive, young couples, basically coupling on the dancefloor, pros, decked out in spangles and glitter with hats and high high heels on the cobblestones.
Young peruvians sell beautiful handmade jewelry and people gather from all over to enjoy the spectacle, music and energy in the air. This is a city that doesn´t sleep.
I attempted to learn a few basics off a local. I am quite pigeon toed and generally not very coordinated but nothing was going to stop me! A great final night in this beautiful city.
Next stop Puerto Iguazu and the spectacular falls.
This is often met by a moment of silence before the confused person clarifies "Crazy? Your name is Crazy?"
No, Gracie, with a G as in... (insert word of local language that starts with G) ...But you can call me Crazy!
Here in South America I am Gracia, Graciella or La Chica Loca.
Last night this crazy girl got herself some tango. We visited the local milonga where people gather in a plaza to dance every weekend. The evening attracts all types; elegant elderly couples who are keeping the romance alive, young couples, basically coupling on the dancefloor, pros, decked out in spangles and glitter with hats and high high heels on the cobblestones.
Young peruvians sell beautiful handmade jewelry and people gather from all over to enjoy the spectacle, music and energy in the air. This is a city that doesn´t sleep.
I attempted to learn a few basics off a local. I am quite pigeon toed and generally not very coordinated but nothing was going to stop me! A great final night in this beautiful city.
Next stop Puerto Iguazu and the spectacular falls.
Friday, March 6, 2009
To pack or not to pack...
When discussing my impending travels with various people I was told that I definitely needed a 65 litre pack filled with everything from rain gear to hiking gear to medicines and antibiotics that I certainly wouldn´t find in South America.
Contrary to most advice I left the country with a 40 litre pack weighing in at 10.5 kilos. After a week on the road I have found myself wanting of nothing, and surprisingly there are shops where I can top up supplies as I need them (a rain jacket is first on the list).
My luxury items include; a shower cap, to prevent unwanted frizziness of hair due to steamy showers; a small travel guitar, perfect for rainy days in and a great conversation starter; jeans, not the most practical as they´re harder to wash and dry but an essential for me regardless.
Most useful items so far; my watch, a chunky casio, waterproof, alarm clock and with the day and date, perfect when time seems to bend during travel; croc shoes, great grip on slippy slidewalks, mud resistant and can pass as going out shoes; my toiletries bag, it can hang from hooks in the bathroom providing complete access to everything.
So another day in Buenos Aires beckons with its tango and steak and local porteño attitude. This is a beautiful city, packed with people and pastries and a universal love of dulce de leche, a caramel like sweet that is eaten with everything.
Everything happens in the street; from political activism to markets, tango to live music, even verging on obscene displays of affection between couples. Brazilian percussionists busk on the subway, orchestras appear on the sidewalk and street art abounds.
This city is sexy. There is a lot of money around (amongst a lucky few), the people are elegant and passionate. The traffic is aggressive and fast, the numerous parks manicured and relaxing. The architecture is grand, the subway hot, the food impressive. There is a lot to like in Buenos Aires and a lot to do.
Check me out at the hostel here (a real home from home). The brunette in front is Canadian Emily who I will travel with for a while.
Contrary to most advice I left the country with a 40 litre pack weighing in at 10.5 kilos. After a week on the road I have found myself wanting of nothing, and surprisingly there are shops where I can top up supplies as I need them (a rain jacket is first on the list).
My luxury items include; a shower cap, to prevent unwanted frizziness of hair due to steamy showers; a small travel guitar, perfect for rainy days in and a great conversation starter; jeans, not the most practical as they´re harder to wash and dry but an essential for me regardless.
Most useful items so far; my watch, a chunky casio, waterproof, alarm clock and with the day and date, perfect when time seems to bend during travel; croc shoes, great grip on slippy slidewalks, mud resistant and can pass as going out shoes; my toiletries bag, it can hang from hooks in the bathroom providing complete access to everything.
So another day in Buenos Aires beckons with its tango and steak and local porteño attitude. This is a beautiful city, packed with people and pastries and a universal love of dulce de leche, a caramel like sweet that is eaten with everything.
Everything happens in the street; from political activism to markets, tango to live music, even verging on obscene displays of affection between couples. Brazilian percussionists busk on the subway, orchestras appear on the sidewalk and street art abounds.
This city is sexy. There is a lot of money around (amongst a lucky few), the people are elegant and passionate. The traffic is aggressive and fast, the numerous parks manicured and relaxing. The architecture is grand, the subway hot, the food impressive. There is a lot to like in Buenos Aires and a lot to do.
Check me out at the hostel here (a real home from home). The brunette in front is Canadian Emily who I will travel with for a while.
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