This is the end...

What seemed a long lasting never-ending story has yes indeed come to an end.
What I forgot to mention on my last post (not really forgot), was that not only Maarten returned home but so did I.
There were different reasons for my early departure:

1) I wanted to celebrate Christmas at home and the only flight I could take was that of the 8th of December (all the others were fully booked).
2) I reached all my goals and saw everything I wanted to see.
3) I wanted to acclimatize some weeks before starting work again.
4) Since Brazil is really expensive (almost like Europe) my expenses were rising exponentially and my foreseen budget was jeopardized.

Concerning my journey I would like to issue the following remarks:

Cost: 9425,43 € for exact 24 weeks. This includes everything:
-Preparations: vaccinations, hiking material, travel/medical insurance, ...
-Transport : planes, rental car, buses, ferries, trains, ...
-Food and drinks
-Accommodation
-Activities
-Souvenirs (+cost for sending them home)

Planning:

Thanks:

-First of all to myself ( :-) ) for having the strength, courage, endurance, mental capability, etc... to keep on going every single time.

-Secondly to my parents Michael Coulier and Berlinda Bobelyn for supporting me and arranging my affairs in Belgium. Also to my sister Cynthia Coulier.

-Thirdly to my friends for reacting on my blog (in order of most interested; it felt that way):
1) Kurt De Maeyer with 12 posts and most comments on my pictures (really funny by the way) is again the winner.
2) Davy Standaert with 10 posts
3) My sister and Gary MChugh 9 posts
4) Elke Vandenberghe with 8 posts (also comments on my pictures)
5) Eline De Smet with 7 posts (unexpected)
6) Draw between Frederik Vens and Gregory de Jans each 6 posts.
7) Draw between Wilhelm Mortier and David Steen with 4 posts
... and some others with one or 2 posts.

-Fourthly to Maarten De Clercq (although he hasn't read my blog or reacted on it!!) for coming over to Brazil the last couple of weeks and finishing this journey of emotions in style (with a little help from me).

Concluding: This trip was an incredible experience and planned in the correct moment of my life. I have no regrets at all and will remember this 4 ever.

As the journey is finished so is this blog; it will stay like this for the rest of my life.

goodbye :-(
just plane Clint now

P.S. if some of you smart guys think you should post dozen reactions on this post, they don't count anymore!!!

BRAZIL: Goozfraba to you all …

Oi,

The last 15 days were extremely intense and busy so I did not have much time to update my blog. For that you have my deepest apologies (and Maarten his :-) ).

When I left Puerto Iguazú to head for the Brazilian equivalent Foz Do Iguaçu, I immediately noticed that city wasn’t similar to the cosy Puerto at all! Lots of traffic, dirty roads, really busy etc...; on top of that my bus had had 2 hours delay so in the end I decided not to visit the waterfalls from the Brazilian side anymore (the Argentinean side was the best side anyway). I just left the terrible city and went straight to Curitiba.

The 26th of November I explored the cleanest and most European like city of Brazil, saw some of the finest architecture of Brazil (including a building in the shape of an eye that is an honour to the modern architect Niemeyer, who designed the capital Brasilia), frustrated myself on the limited amount of English people spoke here (the Brazilian Portuguese is unintelligible) and made a planning for the following days to come. It seemed it was going to be very intense and rushing was not ruled out.

The next day (27/11) Maarten arrived in my hostel in Curitiba (after a delay of 4 hours!!!). In the beginning it felt strange to see a familiar face again, but that feeling soon faded away. We had little time to chat at his arrival because of the tight schedule. Namely, that same evening we had to take the bus to the little cosy colonial town Morretes, close to Curitiba. There we finally had the time to come to rest and had a couple of beers at night next to the river Nhundiaquara where only the floating stream and our voices could be heard. The following day we got up and went for a good strong morning walk in hot and humid conditions, crossing flooded streets and observing the junglish vegetation. Returning back, we had to check out from the beautiful hotel, after rapidly being taken pictures off by young teenage girls and we left back to Curitiba by one the most impressive railways of Southern America, crossing dozen tunnels and bridges and seeing the most beautiful landscapes in misty conditions.

Back in the city again, the planning suggested/commanded :-) a short pain which was going to Paraty that same evening; a trip that would last 13 hours. At this colonial town, located on the Costa Verde, our beach adventures started. We stayed in the Misti Chill hostel where chilling just plainly was our duty to fulfil (the walls had some of life’s best expressions, among them: Nothing splendid has ever been achieved except by those who dared believe that something inside them was superior to circumstance).
The following days we were very lucky with the weather (in December hehe) and went on a boat trip. We jumped of the side of the boat to explore the idyllic deserted beaches, snorkelled with fluorescent fishes and sunbathed like crazy so Maarten could show his family and friends he visited Brazil. Ah I forgot to tell getting on his nerves was part of the trip.

The first of December, we got up early to bike for the sliding waterfalls. On the way Maarten suddenly stopped because of piled up emotions/frustrations and suggested to use the word ‘Goozfraba’ (refer to movie anger management) every time one of us was verbally attacked. Come to think of it now that was a funny idea. We got there at the waterfalls after an extra half an hour steep climbing the wrong way and tried to imitate the Brazilian experienced guys. We attempted to surf our way down but after a second we smacked down with our faces on the slippery stones.

After this waterfall gliding we had to hurry back to catch the bus to Angra Dos Reis and from there take the ferry to Ihla Grande, an island that contains one of the most beautiful beaches of Brazil and where only a few police cars and an ambulance are allowed to ride. We went to that Brazil’s top 5 beautiful beach called Lopez Mendez on foot (the beach surrounded by jungle reminded me of the beach shot in the series Lost), relaxed, swam in the blue clear water and turned back into the jungle encountering monkeys and a 3m long green snake. I saved your life Maarten! Remember this forever… :-)

After another boat trip we headed for the city of God: Rio De Janeiro, where we arrived exhausted the first night so only went to bed early. It started raining really bad so we left the island at the perfect time. The fifth of December we explored the city’s shopping mall, walked to Sugar Loaf (large rock) and stranded finally on the playas of Copacabana and Ipanema. That same night we decided to witness the winning Samba school of last years samba competition, which is held in the Sambadrome of Rio during Carnival. Those women really shake every muscle in their body at a frequency unseen. After watching the dancers do the samba, the musicians play the drums and after drinking a bucket of beer, we went back to the hostel at 5AM to lay to rest.


The following day we visited one of the 7 world wonders namely Christ the Redeemer, standing on the mountain of Corcovado (=Hunchback). The statue is incredibly impressive and is watching over Rio in the direction the Portuguese landed here in Rio. We took the usual amount of pictures with my newly virus infected camera. Of course the ones I took were ok but the ones Maarten took were well … what shall I say less qualitative.
Sunday night it was the very important match Flamengo versus Gremaio on television in the pub nearby. If Flamengo won they were Brazilian champion and so finally they did after 12 years. The crowd went absolutely mental when the referee ended the game (2-1).

The next couple of days were relaxing, recovering from bowel issues and finally going to a boat party Monday night to celebrate Maarten’s last night. The boat (with open bar) took us to open sea in the middle of the night where we danced all night long (Maarten not all night though). Arriving on shore again, no taxis or busses were to be spotted so I suggested to jog back to our hostel at 5AM in Rio De Janeiro. Jogging was probably a better option than strolling, as Rio is not safe during the night. We arrived in the hostel overheated and took an ice-cold shower before crashing onto our beds.

Tuesday the 8th of December Maarten returned back to Europe after a 12-day journey full of emotions (his quote). So, if you extrapolate my already 168 done days…

I will meet him back soon though.

Best regards
Splashing intense beach explorer Clint

ARGENTINA (III): Pride before the fall(s)

There will be different ways to interpret this title when you reach the end of my story. Some will be more obvious than others...

The last few days were really hectic and different from the rest of my trip (that's the least I can say). The story goes as follows:

When I stepped off the bus at the Buenos Aires terminal the 17th of November at 16u30, I decided to walk to the hostel I was planning to stay in. Walking in a new city, already shows you what kind of people are living there and in what kind of scenery. The things that struck me the most were the pace by which people walked and the pride by which the women were parading. This definitely didn´t seem to be a South American city but reminded me more of Paris. I guess the more stressed (and evolved) a population is, the faster they walk. Feeling home again and glad of it, I arrived at the Milhouse hostel which was crawling with people the time I got there. This party hostel organized lots of nocturnal activities (also daily ones but less important). I received room 209 and, to euphemize, the sense wasn´t one of roses. What happened in this room wasn't suited for the faint of heart.

That first night, I already experienced one of the things Buenos Aires is most known for: The Tango dance. It is a very stylish dance, much more static than a samba but definitely as elegant if not more. Tired of the bustrip, I just watched the lessons, memorized the footsteps (didn't practise though) and went to sleep. This will have turned out to be a very wise decision.

The next day (18th) I explored the city including districts like Palermo and Recoleta. These districts are the richer parts of Buenos Aires and have all kind of bars, clubs, shopping malls, boutiques, etc... . I visited the grave/tomb of Eva Peron (don´t cry for me Evita!) in the cementario de la recoleta and bought Boating shoes in the Galeria Pacifico afterwards. At night there was the France-Ireland world cup qualifying game and as the hostel was swarming with Irish guys, emotions heated up. There, I encountered the 2 great guys from Denmark Anders and Lasse who were sleeping in my room and who had an incredible schedule to fullfil in BA: At 22u starting drinking, partying until 6u in the morning, sleeping until 14u, doing nothing but recovering until 22u (maybe go to McDonalds in between) and repeating that sequence over again the next days.

The next day (19th) I took the first and last tour in Buenos Aires organized by the hostel: the Boca tour. In this tour I met this fun guy from the Netherlands Laurens and I spotted a beautiful girl from Wales, Beth. The tour brought us to one of the most dangerous places in BA where we visited the Caminito Calle (showing live tango shows) and the Boca juniors stadium. I think the guide told us that the Boca district was the first part of BA to arise. Sailors arrived here, danced with prostitutes and so the Tango originated.

In the Boca stadium you could immediately see that the best football player ever Diego Armando Maradona was and is the god there.

At night there was again a lot going on in the hostel, first there was happy hour until 1 AM and afterwards we went to club 69. This club was maybe a little bit too touristic. There Laurens, an Irish guy Dave, Beth and me had a really good time. Arriving at 6u in the morning finding out your room is empty (we were staying there with 8 guys), says something about the room. At 6u30 the Danish guys arrived, at 7u the Brazilian guys (of whom sleep is apparently unfamiliar) and a little bit later the loud Irish guys arrived. Every single minute the sound of silence disappeared little by little.

Being able to sleep 2 hours I woke up and from then on I followed the Danish schedule. I had really much fun with those guys (you like that huh huh you like that). The migits will appear at your doors sometimes Anders and Lasse!

Saturday night the Danish guys wanted to go on a pub crowl but I really wanted to go to Pacha , the most famous ,popular and expensive club in BA. Before hitting off, I drank some Vodka with Beth, Laurens and some Irish guys. Little tipsy I left the hostel and went to Pacha with Beth. I really enjoyed it (:-)) and really liked Beth. They say life is too short to be shy, well I guess I will just have to live a little bit longer. Too shy, too proud, too ... nothing, we returned back to the hostel at 5AM. But again the party hadn´t ended yet as the Danish guys and Irish guys of my room did all these crazy things: splashing the bathroom up untill the ceiling, dragging each other out of bed, covering sleeping persons with garbage (me), screaming like hell, it was really awful but I laughed with it afterwards (after an anger outburst; sorry guys).

Sunday I had to leave for Puerto Iguazu and it was the hardest goodbye on this trip. I really liked the Danish guys, the holland guy and yeah ofcourse the Welsh girl but that was different. I was so glad to still be able to experience that feeling again even for a short moment. I thought I lost it! Thanks for that although you didn't have to do anything, just be there. Beth, I hope you have a safe and great 8 months travelling and lots of fun in your law work afterwards :-).

Continuing, Monday morning I arrived in the humid and hot climate of Iguazu (almost same weather as in Rurrenabaque, Bolivia). It was a beautiful day and I decided to go to the falls right away. What I didn't know is you could take a wild boat trip there that completely soaks you. I had to do it and didn´t care about wearing long jeans. It was really great but afterwards my jeans had increased 3 times in mass . Continuing the exploration in the Iguazu park, I reached the apotheosis : Garganta del diablo (Devil's throat). The mass flow falling down is incredible but I think becoming impressed by things is slightly wearing off.

The next day it was really bad weather so I didn't do anything (the Danish style). I was a little bit bored but then buddy Laurens arrived. It was great to see a familar face again. He told me the Danish guys changed their plans and were also coming on Wednesday the 25th. I will just see them for a minute but then I have to leave because I have a deadline to reach. You are all wondering which one. Well... an old friend is coming to Brazil this Friday the 27th: Maarten De Clercq. We will have a great time Maarten, I am sure of it. I already talked to a lot of persons and know the best places in Brazil to visit.

So today I will go to Foz De Iguazu, Brazil and leave Argentina. What can I say, I will miss everything and everyone but the memories are forever.

Tired still-got-that-feeling party crasher Clint

ARGENTINA (II): Me, myself, I and a big *ss whale

Listen up chicos,

I know you are all anxiously waiting to find out what my next mysterious destination was (for the more bright ones among you the title gives a hint!). There is only one person who got the correct answer (out of the amazing number of 4 whole persons). Eline, that amount of money (300€) does not mean that much to me to take a 20 hr bus back to something I have already seen. Jans, partying 15 days was maybe something I would have done 5 years ago (now my body can only handle 5-6 days). Returning back home, well ... I just could not do that yet as not all my goals are accomplished (Elke is partly right but only said what I would not do). So Kurt, you are the only person who chose the one and only right option and therefore are the winner. The price is maybe the most valuable thing on this planet: my everlasting respect :-) . Yes friends, I could not NOT go to Patagonia while visiting Argentina (double negation but not the same as I could !). It will only be the north of Patagonia so no glaciers at el Calafate, no astonishing landscapes at Tierra Del Fuego but the following nonetheless startling places:

The 10th of November my bus arrived in Bariloche, a pitoresk little town located next to lake Nahuel Huapi where the weather by the way was much colder (10 C). San Carlos de Bariloche looks a bit like one of the towns in the Alps in Europe (maybe that inspired former nazis to come and live here). Everytime I spotted a white looking Argentinan with light coloured eyes overthere ... Nazi!! Anyway, I was planning to stay in the Tango inn hostel only 400 m away from the bus station so I decided to walk there. When I stood in front of the door, I spotted the place was closed for renovation and a little sign referred me to the hostel downtown. Refusing to pay for a taxi or bus, I continued my trip on foot and when I got there exhausted I decided to stay for 2 nights. What I didn´t know and what they didn´t tell me was that a group of 40 children was going to arrive that day, so, so much for peace and quiet. I don´t care, hostels are only havens to reside in from 22u to 8u. The following day I wanted to go to Cerro Catedral, a famous ski resort and one of the most important in South America. It was the first time in my travel that it was so hard just to get there. I was planning to take the bus but that same hostel (with incompetent people) gave me the wrong bus schedule and so I spent 4 hours chasing between bus stops (1 abajo and 1 arriba). Ofcourse when the bus was abajo, I was standing arriba and vice versa. Finally frustrated like hell and together with 2 Columbian girls I managed to arrive at the ski resort at 14u (started at 9u). I took the cable car all the way to the top where there was still snow lying. I did not rent ski equipment because half of my day was already gone and renting it for the 2 remaining hours was too expensive (the skilift closed at 16u). The view over the lake and mountains calmed me down though.

The next day I wanted to leave this dreadfull expensive place (=my experience, probably I was in the wrong place at the wrong time). I went to the busticket office but the Bariloche hell adventure wasn´t over yet. All the direct buses to my next destination were fully booked for the next 2 days. Oke no problem the hard way then… From Bariloche to Esquel, Esquel to Trelew, Trelew to Puerto Madryn and Puerto Madryn to Puerto Piramides. I left nazi hell the 12th at 13u and arrived at the small deserted little pueblo 12u the 13th (23 hrs travelling). But again it was worth the travel as you will see. Puerto Piramides is the only town located on the famous Peninsula Valdes (Schiereiland Valdes) inhabited by all kind of wildlife. On a trip around the island, I saw an eagle feasting on a small rabbit, maras (look like long legged rabbits), rheas (similar to ostriches), tons weighing elephant seals, sealions and penguins. It wasn´t over though as the most spectacular creature of them all was yet to see by boat trip: the southern right whale. Did you know that its testicle weighs over 500 kg... probably you didn´t. I have a great movie of them (of the whales not of the testicles guys). Go watch it on the slideshow of Argentina.
I saw all these animals but as the beach is off limits for everybody I wasn´t able to touch any of them, not even a silly little penguin. This will be the curse on my trip: not touching animals !!!(except maybe a cat here an there) Wheeiiiiiiiiiiiiiii....

The next 2 days I enjoyed the beach, sun and relaxed in this deserted place. This evening 22u (for you 2u in the morning) I will take again a 20 hr bus to the city of good winds.

Ciao
Not-allowed-to-touch-a-god-damn-thing whale watcher Clint

ARGENTINA (I): Culinary highlights and financial lows.

So (pfff here we go),

I left Chile the 30th of October by passing several mountain passes (among them Paso de Jama) and after 8 hours I ended up in the beautiful city of Salta at 22 o´clock at night. Starving after almost every busride, I decided not to wait with my gastronomical experience and that same evening I headed straight for a cheap but very delicious restaurant. At Don Jose (that´s how it was called), I consumed parillada which is a mixed grill of different kinds of meat (sausages, liver, chicken and of course steak).

I was eating like a mad man but you definitely can´t blame me after being 2 months in the less developed countries of Peru and Bolivia.

The following day I was able to find a camera shop and bought a Lumix Panasonic camera DMC-FS4 (probably too much information). I also had to buy the beautiful light blue white Argentinan football shirt to be in the mood for this country. After these expenses, I had to fulfill my second purpose of the Argentinan cuisine and that was to eat churrasco. I combined this grilled steak with 2 litres of Salta beer in hot and humid 35 C circumstances on the main plaza. A little tipsy, I walked the streets of Salta wearing my new T-shirt (damn it feels good to wear other clothes for a change) and headphones listening to "Supersonic" of Oasis. That particular moment it felt I could take on the world.

Returning to the hostel, I met this really crazy girl-mad oversexed Spanish guy Alfonso who was feeling sick at the time but nevertheless found the courage to join the barbecue that evening. There was steak, steak all you can eat so good steak... Jesus just to emphasize it the steak was so good: the size is much thicker than in Belgium and the taste yeah well I can´t describe it; you have to come to Argentina and taste it yourself.

Sunday the first of November(All Saints´ day--> did not celebrate the dead though), we (Alfonso, a German girl, a French girl and me) decided to walk to the Artisanal market of Salta which was one hour walking from the centre. It wasn´t interesting at all. I just mention this to be complete in my story.

The next day we (me and my one day lasting friend Alfo) were splitting up again and said our goodbyes. I decided to go to Cachi and see some Quebrada of the Northwest of Argentina with the impressive cactus fields. It was the most boring thing I had ever done on this journey. The average age of the people doing that trip was 65 years. Just sitting in the bus watching the scenery, spending an hour in the deserted town of Cachi (where we arrived at siesta time) and getting back was the complete program (wohoooo...). Luckily there was one person of my age where I had some fun with. We were both deceived by the agency though.

(By the way when I arrived at the hostel, I found your message Alfonso. It was funny but so true!)

I felt I had seen enough of Salta (and the northwest) and took the bus to Mendoza the next day. Just to give you some idea: the time between Salta and Mendoza is comparable when you travel from Gent to Madrid (20 hours).

When I arrived at the busstation I took another bus to Uspallata (2,5 hrs) to visit the place where the movie "7 years in Tibet" was shot. I went straight to the pub "Tibet" where Brad Pitt sat 12 years ago with some Tibetan bold guys. The bartender still remembered it like it was yesterday and gave me some information about it. Again I had a litre of beer and decided to rent a bicycle to bike to the place in the mountains where the movie was shot. It was supposedly 4 km away from the bar but when I asked it after 3 km cycling some old lady said it was “5 km mas”. I cycled and cycled but I had no idea where the place was situated. I arrived somewhere in the mountains and then just after shooting pictures I went back. I will compare those pictures with the movie when I get back home and hopefully I will be able to recognize some sceneries.

The next day I returned back to Mendoza as everything I wanted to see in Uspallata had been seen. Visiting the city, famous for its wine and the numerous bodegas that produce it, I had steak that evening combined with that other popular alcoholic drink.

Friday the 6th of November, the hostel organized a wine bike tour which is a tour where you bike from one bodega to another including degustations. We visited 3 bodegas, an olive oil factory and a chocolate-liqueur store. At that store I bought absynth (only 75 % alcohol which is child´s play after the bolivean alcohol of 98 %). That evening I met these 2 Irish guys Thomas and Colin and an American girl Autumn. We decided all together to go to a barbecue party, followed by free tequila. As you will notice, the way we drank it was not in ordinary shot glasses. Afterwards we went to a club where the story of my life manifested itself again. I was approached by a 17 year old Argentinan girl who thought, as so many think, I was 20 f***ing years old.

Together with the fact I found out that day that an Argentinan bank in Salta took 3 times the money, I withdrew from an ATM, off my account, Saturday I wasn´t in for a lot of fun anymore. However, I had the story of Autumn that cracked me up and eased my pain. The only thing I will say on this blog about it is: Autumn loves pretzels in the spring.

This evening I will leave for a certain place but it will remain secret untill my next blogpost. I will give you a few possible options though:

*I will go back to the bank in Salta to hear what they have to say and try to get my money back (300 euro).
*I will go to Buenos Aires and party for 15 days.
*I will go to Bariloche situated in the Lake District which is again 20 hours driving.
*I will fly to Rio and take back a flight home because I am sick of travelling and spending money.

Make your choice (=cool phrase from Saw movies),
Beer drinking wine taster Clint

CHILE: Just popping in…

When I crossed the border the 25th of October, my eyes spotted only a few seconds later I had entered a much more developed country. The roads were transforming into asphalt, they had lines painted on them and along the road the long lost traffic signs reappeared.

I have to inform you that my Chile adventure will just consist of visiting 1 little town San Pedro de Atacama during only 5-6 days. Entering the driest place on earth, the first day was just relaxing and recovering from the stunning scenery of Bolivia. I ate well, did some laundry and performed the other usual things you do on a boring but necessary day.

The following day I walked around trying to find an activity to do (preferably one that I hadn´t done before) and there I saw something I already wanted to do a month ago in Nazca (Peru): sandboarding. It would have cost me 15 euro to go sandboarding with a guide or 7.5 euro to go do it on my own. Knowing me, you probably can guess what option I took... Receiving a little map to bike to the Valle de la Muerte (which hasn´t stolen its name) and carrying the sandboard (=snowboard) on my back, I departed with much expectations to the hopefully very steep sand dunes where I would ride sand at the speed of sound. After serious climbing, I arrived there and in the beginning had the total landscape for myself. Riding down the different sand mountains was a great experience apart from the afterwards 4 manifested “minor” complications: my camera didn´t function anymore (sand had crawled between the lens), my lips were burnt completely (see Kurt, what happens if I don’t wear lip balsam and don´t look like a milk drinking idiot), I had a small sunstroke and my bowels were acting like they were playing drums.

So as you will notice on the slideshow of Chile, it doesn´t include many pictures. Please don´t panic (!) as I will buy a new camera as soon as I leave this little town. Temporarily I bought an old camera (still with film in roll form) for the 3 remaining days in Chile (27/10-29/10). Those probably crappy pictures that it will have made, will be put online as soon as they are developed in Belgium (correction: they have been developed in Argentina; I repeat they have been developed! and yes they are crappy).

The 3 remaining days I did almost absolutely nothing (visited the local handicraft market located out of town which is the only place where Chilean people still manufacture the art crafts themselves; the other shops just import cheaper stuff from Peru and Bolivia), let my abdomen rest (Argentina is coming and then there can be absolutely nothing wrong with it!), ate cornflakes with milk for 3 days and saved some money.

However, what I definitely could not neglect to do, is go on a star tour as Chili is one of the best places to spot those large spheres of gas (no pollution, no lights and during the time I have been here I haven´t spotted one cloud in the sky!). The 28th at night (22u30-01u00) I was picked up by a bus and headed for a small observatory station owned by a comic French astronomer. There I saw a dozen of large telescopes and was shown several constellations (Southern Cross, Orion, Aries …), clusters of stars in the far distance (extremely impressive), the planet of Jupiter and the bright crescent. Just for the record, the moon here is seen as a smiley and not a C (because of the position of moon and sun seen from the southern hemisphere). It was so beautiful. The stars and constellations you see in the southern hemisphere are totally different from the ones you see in the northern hemisphere (no polar star, small bear, great bear …). The biggest star you are able to observe (I forgot the name sorry….) has emitted its light in the year 1600. Impressive, no??

Anyway, I have decided to go south through Argentina and not through Chile as there is much more to see (and eat) over there so tomorrow I will leave Chile and go to Salta, Argentina (where I hopefully can buy a digital camera to take beautiful photographs again)

So long
Sandboarding star observer Clint

BOLIVIA (II): Surrealism can be real!!!

Friends,


Continuing my journey to the south, this time it started with a super bus trip from La Paz to Sucre. Jihaaaaaa at last... For once I was able to sleep continuously for seven hours thanks to the large isolated seat/bed I had been given. The cost was a little bit higher but I think I earned the comfort for once. On Sunday morning I arrived at 6u00 in Sucre (the constitutional capital of Bolivia), and the city almost seemed a ghost town. No living souls to observe on the deserted streets, I went straight to my foreseen hostel where the guy at the front desk almost looked like him too was part of the undead. After one day of searching for things to do, I concluded there was not so much to do in this city (unless you are in a big group and came here to party). I already wanted to leave on Monday for Potosi but got information that the miners over there were striking and so there were no buses driving that day. I decided not to sit around doing nothing but to visit the Carl Orko Mountain. This is a mountain where tracks of 3 types of dinosaurs are discovered (the huge ones with the long necks, some boring other plant eater and the carnosaurus (picture)). Waiting at the plaza for the cheesy “dinotruck” to bring me those 7 km out of the centre, I was approached by some Bolivian college student for a “conversation” but as I didn’t bite, she left and 10 minutes later my transport arrived. Being driven to the outskirts of Sucre which almost seem like one big bus cemetery, I arrived at Parque Cretacico (located next to the mountain) and saw the little footprints of the 3 types in the far distance. These tracks date from 90 million years ago and look amazingly well preserved. Luckily because there were blue collar workers excavating the ground down below for the nearby cement factory, I could see the comparison between a human being and the tracks and then realized the tracks were not so little anymore.


The next morning (20/10) I left for Potosi which is by the way the highest city in the world and famous for the discovery of huge amounts of silver in mountain Cerro Rico in the early 1600s. (When Spanish call somebody a “potosi” it means that person is extremely rich). In the afternoon I visited the Casa Nacional de moneda what used to be a mint production factory for Spain´s coins. There we heard the story of a ship, that carried 24 tons of silver coins, sunk around 1700 and was discovered again in 1976 by American treasure hunters. Finders keepers of course but generous as they were they gave the museum of Potosi 1 silver coin...



The 21st I booked a mine tour of which I didn´t know it was going to be that interesting. After a proper introduction with our guide, who was by the way an ex-miner, we first went to get all our proper equipment: clothes, helmet and lamp. Afterwards we went to the miners market to buy gifts for the miners: the usual stuff like sodas, coca leaves and alcohol (96%) but startlingly also the highly explosive dynamite!! The dynamite package (2€) consisted of a TNT bar (picture), a detonator with fuse and ammonium nitrate to intensify the blast. There I was running around on the market carrying dynamite in my pocket: How cool is that?! It is incredible that you can just buy dynamite on the street like you buy a snicker bar. After this thrilling surprise, we visited a refinery of minerals: this was a (medieval) plant where the unrefined minerals found by the miners first are crushed whereafter chemicals are added so that the minerals finally are floating on top of the fluid and the waste sinks to the bottom.
To complete the tour we went to the mine of Cerro rico (Sumaq Urcu in Quechua), the famous silver mountain where still a lot of silver is found (next to tin, led, cupper, iron etc...)!! The Spanish took the purest and largest amount though. Entering the mines (300 meter far) until no daylight was to be spotted anymore, we went even to -4 (30 meter deep) where the circumstances were almost inhuman.
Crawling through tiny little holes you could not think about what would happen if the mountain collapsed. At -4 there was only 1 miner working, making holes for putting the dynamite bars in. It was terrible to see him work in those circumstances. I asked him if he liked his job and he gave me the strangest answer: yes, because I have three children to feed... If it is some kind of comfort, everything the miners find, they get to keep for themselves and can sell it to the refineries (they only have to pay 15% tax to the Bolivian state). So, if this is true it is still somewhat acceptable (for us probably not really though ... ). The circumstances as I said were awful: extremely dusty and hot and for our own sakes we were recommended to put a wet bandana in front of our nose and mouth as not to inhale the dust and possible poisonous gases. At one point we arrived at a railway where a cart with minerals was standing (200 kg heavy). The guide asked for a volunteer to push it together with 3 miners and stupid old me took the job upon myself. Because of the effort (at high altitude) I could not keep my bandana on (desperately needed oxygen) and probably inhaled all kind of toxic gases. After 2 hours we saw daylight again and it never felt so good to be in open air again. The adventure hadn´t come to an end though; the guide still had kept 2 dynamite packages as spare and for us to blow up. He made the package (TNT together with ammonium nitrate and the detonator in the mixture), then ignited the fuse and we had 1 minute to hold it, take pictures and give it back to him. He ran 100 m further, placed the bomb and ran back. We waited, waited .....until suddenly boom boom boom. Standing at 100m away from the blasts, all three explosions (1 of another group) nevertheless went straight to our hearts.
Arriving at the hostel that evening I was sitting on the internet at 18u thinking that the lonesome miner at -4 was still inside the mine working and risking his life, and this day after day until he highly likely will die of silicosis at the age of 50. I felt sad for him but also felt lucky I was not standing in his shoes. I guess life is just not fair.

However, as life and my trip continues, I took the bus to Uyuni the next day and booked a 3-day salt flats tour for the 23rd to start:

This time my group consisted out of 4 Japanese people and 1 Australian (nagging incompetent) girl. We all started off at Uyuni and drove somewhat south to visit the cemetery of trains. Here old steam locomotives were lying rusting in the dry desert (possible?). They used to transport lots of minerals from Bolivia to Chile but because of the cheaper truck transport it does not happen that frequent anymore. As it is apparently a local custom of leaving trash on the roads in bolivia, they probably said let´s also do it with huge steam wagons. After this slow beginning of the trip it went on to a little pueblo called Colchani where the salt of the salt flats is processed in an again outdated manner. Shortly after, the time had come to enter the blinding stretched out flat salty surfaces of Bolivia. A long time ago this used to be a lake but is now completely dried up (see Lake titicaca blog Peru parte II). Seeing nothing but a white colour surrounding us, it was time to take the famous optical illusion photographs. On the first stop I tried to be as inventive as possible together with the crazy Japanese persons (the boring Australian didn´t give any input at all). The execution by her (she was taking my pictures) left much to be desired. How hard can it goddamn be to take a good picture? On the second stop (not planned but the jeep broke down --> yes now I can redo my pictures!) we could do it over again and now I asked a Japanese guy to take them. They were much better (not perfect however) and after 2 hours in the blistering sun and in a temp of 10C, the fuel filter was cleaned out and we could continue our road trip to Isla del Pescado, an island with lots of giant cactuses. Because we were in delay, we were granted only 40 minutes on this island to climb it and project the stunning images onto our retinas. Crossing the altiplano desert with our 4-weel drive vehicle we arrived at the beautiful salt hotel in San juan, where everything was made out of salt (walls, roof, beds, tables seats,...). That night we had good diner, some wine and lots of fun. In the morning we left to see all sort of lagoons where flamingos were wandering (from a distance it looked like they were floating on the little lakes). After 4 little lagoons (and stones in the form of a tree) we arrived at the upper lagoon: laguna Colorado. At this red coloured lake (which is by the way running for one of the seven world wonders), we were planning to stay for the night. Arriving at 4 o’clock we had some time to walk around and we decided to go to the mirador point 1km further away. The amount of wind was unbearable and made me sprint for the mirador and eventually back. The views of flamingos flying over the lake and sun setting were excellent. At night it was freezing (-8C) and of course it had to be that night where poor me was suffering from the chicken I ate that day. 2 times I had to leave my bed for the ancient toilet they had in the back. I would like to sketch you the image of a guy running to a toilet at -8C without being able to flush it because the water outside was frozen (gross!). Next morning, we got up at 4u30, watched sunrise, geysers and headed for the agua thermales. The guide told the group (except me) the previous night to bring the swimsuit that morning, but since I didn´t receive any information from the guide nor from the group, I couldn´t bade in the hot springs. Stubborn I was, I climbed the nearby mountain didn’t have breakfast and was angry at the whole group. Carrying my headphones in the jeep we passed by the most beautiful lagoon of them all: Laguna verde. The scenery was surreal and pictures now had to be taken with autotimer. Finally we crossed the Bolivean-Chilean border and headed for San Pedro de Atacama (where my machete again was tolerated or missed by the Chilean authorities).

Now I probably won´t stay that long in Chile and thus my next post might appear sooner than you expect.

Cold greetings
Obsessive happy-not-to-be-a-miner illusion photographer Clint

P.S. I want to apologize for the imperfection of my pictures due to the incompetence of the Australian girl and my camera (black dots and sometimes iussues with focussing).

BOLIVIA (I): Stay young and invincible!

This is probably one of the best advices I can give you if you fully want to enjoy a trip to Bolivia …

It all started however with a fatiguing and frustrating bus ride from Cusco to La Paz. Arriving at the bus station in Cusco at 22u30, I noticed that my seat was booked twice. I started complaining and arguing about it but if I wanted to catch that particular bus for La Paz arguing wouldn´t make a difference. So finally I had to go sit in front together with the drivers where it was freezing like hell (the little blanket they gave me was only a salve on the wound). On top of that the driver told me I couldn´t sleep that night and had to watch traffic… yeah right, like that´s gonna happen. And as if thát was not enough, we arrived at 8u at the Peruvian-Bolivian border where I had to wait 2 hours in line just to get a simple stamp. So arriving at La Paz (amazing view over the city though) completely exhausted after the 15 hr ride, I took a relaxed day off ( :-) ) and had extensive meals to boost back up my energy.

Recharged the 7th of October, I probably visited the last archeological site on my journey: Tiwanaku. This is a site aging more than 2000 years ago and of which scientists say that the local people were far more advanced in engineering (hydraulics) than in Europe that period. Here you can witness the famous monolithically Puerta del Sol that represents an agrarian calendar (they already had 365 days in a year; Julian calendar dates back from 46 BC). Some might say this site is not worth visiting but do not agree with them! It is true you don`t see any big impressive buildings, but it is the history and mystery that you should consider appreciating. It is surprising to observe that even now (2009) people are still digging up temples and pyramids without knowing if there is gold or if there are tombs lying underneath them. I believe that within 10 years (after everything has been dug up) this place will be as beautiful and special as Machupicchu (maybe a little less) and that the little restaurant located next to it will become a goldmine.

After all this history the last couple of weeks, I decided it was time for some pure adrenaline action and the 8^th of October 2009 will always be carved in my memory as the day I cycled the most dangerous road all around the world. This road descends 3400 m from La Paz to Coroica where the climate changes from a dry cold Altiplano (15C) to a hot humid rainforest climate (35C). After being scared off by the guide with his interesting fatality stories that occurred the last few years and in order to slide down the mountain in one piece, I had to concentrate to the fullest and not to think of the 600 m steep cliffs that were leering around each turn. At the end I made a stupid rookie mistake and was almost falling down on the big rocks sticking out of the dirt road (luckily this was not at a steep cliff passage)... Arriving at the valley with agonizing pain in my hands and blisters because of the ultra frequent shocking, we had a shower, had buffet for lunch and went back up with the van the same way we came down. Seeing which track we had taken, it was much more scaring to see now how it looked than when we were going downhill (you just don´t realize it facing death when you´re focusing that hard). I would recommend every daredevil not to let this death road adventure pass him by when visiting Bolivia.

The next day I explored the city at ease and visited the Coca Museum. Here I learned something more about the history of the coca leaves. These leaves used to be of much importance to the local people for spiritual gatherings (for some old people they still are). When the Spanish conquered South America the church declared the leave demonical until it turned out to be a very good substance for letting the local people work harder, longer and faster. Suddenly the church (for some strange inexplicable reason) changed its mind and approved of the “drug”. You see how important principles were for the church at that time (:-/). Besides the history I was of course also interested in the production of cocaine from the coca leaves. In short it takes about 1200 kg of coca leaves (damn; those are a lot of leaves!), some chemicals (among them gasoline!) and some knowledge of chemistry to make 1 kg of pure cocaine.

The 10^th, there it was: the moment I had been waiting for for such a long time. It was time to go to the JUNGLE! I took a 20 hour bus drive from the capital to the little jungle town called Rurrenabaque. The ride was just as dangerous as the bicycle road but the only difference now was my life was in the driver´s hands. Driving on a road as small as the bus next to steep cliffs was a terrifying moment sometimes (a French girl I met didn’t want to get back with the bus anymore and took the plane back). The views I had on the way were magnificent and worth the risk though. Arriving in Rurrenabaque the 11^th, I booked a 3-day pampas trip that had a program to die for:

The first day we jumped in an “Indiana Jones” jeep and headed on the way to the Yacuma river. In this muddy river our motorboat was lying; ready to guide us through the pampas habitat. On the way to our lodge, we saw a varied kind of wildlife. We saw all kinds of birds (e.g. Toucan), capybaras (largest living rodent in the world), monkeys, turtles, black and white crocodiles (the black ones with the yellow eyes intrigued me the most) and even a dead anaconda floating on the river. Sitting on the boat I heard all the other team members of my group (among them the American couple Evan and Kelly) speaking of this trip to be an ECO-friendly trip so no touching of animals was allowed. Hearing this and remembering all the cool pictures I saw of people touching the wildlife, I got a bit frustrated that the company I booked with didn´t bring that up. I tried to move forward and not let it get to me. At night we took the boat and sailed the river without the engine on so we could not only see but also hear what was happening that misty obscure night. Our bright lights were reflecting on all the crocodiles´ eyes (their eyes glittered like glass) and we saw them watching us and spying on us (those creepy dragon looking reptiles).

The next morning we searched for anacondas through high dense grass for 4 hours but didn´t get to see any live ones. I only got to see a dead snake (already dead for at least a week) and I like to think it got into a huge fight with a crocodile and lost (highly unlikely but just give me this thought guys). I started to become paranoid and thought that our guide with his strong principles walked us to the wrong places deliberately as not to disturb any animals. This feeling became stronger as we went to search for pink dolphins in the afternoon to swim with them but again none were to be found. Pfff I started getting desperate… At night we watched the sun setting in the pampas with a couple of beers and good conversations and for a minute it made me forget the need to perform (to have to see what I had paid for) in those 3 days.

The third day we got up at 5u30 in the morning to watch the sunrise and to go fishing afterwards. However we didn´t use worms for bait as you normally do but we hung up cow meat on our fishing hooks. You heard it right, the fish we were hunting were no ordinary fish but ferocious meat eating piranhas. After 5 minutes I already caught one and 7 more of these greedy voracious little bastards were to follow. The last one was the biggest and most beautiful (yellow coloured).

In the afternoon we took another attempt of spotting pink dolphins and we got lucky this time. We even took a swim in the river but only for a short moment because the water is completely troubled and as for all we know there could be crocodiles lying underneath our feet. Returning back to the jeep, I concluded that it was a successful 3-day pampas tour. I will have to go back sometime though to spot anacondas but for now the dead one will just have to do.

To get to La Paz I took for the second time the 20 hour bus back and arrived there tiredly the 16^th at 6u in the morning. This evening I will take the probably again exhilarating bus ride to Sucre.

Ciao

Paranoid anaconda searcher Clint

P.S. Since I feel that some (some!!) people are or to shy, lazy, uninspired or whatever to write some comments on my posts, I have hidden some song titles in this blogpost (5 Oasis songs and 1 placebo song). It is up to you to find them. I hope this will not take too much of your precious time.

PERU (II): It is (Inca) time …

Ola amigos,

the 23rd of September an 8 hour bus drive, what only feels like 2 hours anymore (power of habit), led me to the unforgettable and charming city of Puno ... NOT! Clouded in misty shades of poverty, this unattractive and dull city is located at the sapphire blue waters of the mystical Lake Titicaca, the highest navigable lake in the world (3800 m). Soon (time is relative), this lake will vanish as its surface decreases by 1 cm every 50 years and eventually will turn into the same geological formation as the (still to be visited) salt flats of Bolivia. Now that it still exists ( :-) ) I had to sail this inland sea and had to visit the floating Uros islands combined with the island Taquile. Sailing at 6u00 in the morning on Lago Titicaca at a temperature of 10 degrees Celcius, one could try to look for heat or in the form of body heat or in my case solar energy. After an hour "boating", I embarked upon the self made islands of the Uros people. Here they still speak the original Inca language Quechua but are apparently also familiar with the song "Vamos a la playa" (euh ... where is the beach?) as they ridiculously sing this song to the tourists when these leave the islands (accompanied by a crazy childish little dance). This performance is not only hilarious but even humiliating and I wonder if their ancestors would turn in their graves. At that place, our guide explained the construction of such an island (using roots and dirt as foundation and reeds as cover) and I only realized being on one when the waves created by passing boats caused the island to move in a sinusoidal way. After having shot the usual amount of pictures (among others one of a photovoltaic solar panel installed on a reed roof of a reed house on lake Titicaca in Peru, South America on planet earth in our solar system of the milky way of the observable universe and next to Clint), we left to Taquile island (3 hours boat ride) where Inca terracing is visible, we had an amazing view over the lake and where we had trout for lunch. Returning to Puno seeing the sunbeams reflecting on the triangle shaped little waves of the lake and the sun eventually setting, one would start to lose himself.

Another long ride ahead the 25th, I started feeling more and more nervous as Peru´s highlight was coming near. At 14u00 I sat foot on the ancient Inca capital of Cusco.

In short the Inca Empire dated from about 1200 to 1500 AC and geographically reached from Ecuador to southern Chili. It was conquered by the Spanish around 1530 mainly because there was already a war going on between the Inca’s themselves, which had weakened them significantly (two dogs fight for a bone, and a third runs away with it). Arriving in Cusco I met a really friendly Brazilian guy Berrardo and hung out with him for a couple of days. He even gave me a Ronaldinho t-shirt as a gift and I had only but to give him my Flemish squash federation t-shirt (he was happy with it though; what´s the cliché again ¿ it´s the thought that counts?). The 26nd we explored the city, visited the Inca museum (and pre-Inca) and saw the famous 12 angled rock near Plaza de Armas. The precision by which these massive stones are carved out is remarkable. As you can see on the picture all the rocks fit like a glove (no mortar is used!) and it is difficult to find a rock where you can put even the smallest tool in between.

In our hostel the next day I played some pool 2 against 2 with a Swedish girl as my partner. With my unseen charms I was able to make her so angry that she gave me the finger a few times and almost hit me with her cue. I said I was just joking but apparently she didn´t share my sense of humour (not many women do). Whatever ... one day one will.

Monday the 28th I wanted to go to Sacsayhuaman, a ruin not far away from Cusco´s centre (walking distance of 15 minutes). After a steep climb through the cobbled streets of Cusco, which literally takes your breath away because of the high altitude, I arrived at the site staggered by the fact that you can only buy a combiticket that includes 3 other ruins. As these guys all know each other, they tried to offer me a deal (which wasn´t really a deal but a total rip-off), but I passed friendly and went back down. If you are already travelling for 3 months in these kind of countries you start getting to know how to negotiate and see what is reasonable and what´s not (aside I was going to see plenty of more ruins anyway). Stubborn as I was and a bit disappointed I hiked back down to the city. I decided to spend my money more wisely and bought a second alpaca sweater for 6 €.

The next couple of days I just chilled (met this cool American guy Scott ( nickname loader) who I might meet in Bolvia again) and was waiting with a lot of expectations for the most famous, beautiful and popular trail in the whole wide world to start on October the first: The Inca Trail!
(Maarten, it was a pity you couldn´t come as you will read in my following commentary.)
And it starts …
Thursday the first of October I was picked up at my hostel and was impatiently wondering which group would join me for the next couple of days. I was really disappointed when the typical situation manifested itself: a couple and an older guy were going to be my travelling companions. Being driven to the starting point of the trail (Piskacucho km 82) I found out that they almost paid double what I paid for this trip at which they were not at all happy about (hehe). There were also 3 porters, a cook and a guide that came along. So there were 5 of them getting paid and 4 of us paying; incredible what they only earn for 4 days hiking and dragging bags of 25 kilos.
We started hiking at 9u in the morning most of the time climbing on a small slope and only seeing ruins from a large distance (llactapata). Already here I noticed it was going to be a one man show as the older guy and the couple couldn`t keep up with me. The porters and cook however were always running the trail to get to the campsite on beforehand to set up the tents and prepare lunch or dinner (at Wayllabamba). There were always three dishes at every meal but the portions were very small.The advantage of having the older guy and couple was that they weren`t very hungry all the time so I could finish their plates also (I was really really hungry!).
The next day we got up, had breakfast (oakmeal) and hiked to the highest point of the Inca trail: dead woman`s pass (4200m). This 3 hour climb was extremely energy consuming and arriving at 14u at the campsite (Paqaymayu) a well earned lunch saved me from collapsing. That night temperatures were dropping below zero and even sleeping in all my clothes I brought with me + the (professional) rented sleeping bag didn`t help me from freezing every part of my body off.
The third day was only a little bit climbing, visiting the beautiful ruins of SayacMarka, and descending to the last campsite of Wiñay Wayna. The descend was extremely steep and I have no doubt it destroyed knees of some older people that were walking the trail (some arrived 7 hours after me). Walking a small path from the campsite and eventually seeing the Wiñay Wayna ruins I had the first goose bumps moment since the trail started as I saw the little Inca town located on a hill at twilight and almost completely deserted. At night I gave away 20 soles tip for the work of the porters (carrying our tents, food, cooking material, chairs, tables …) but I only brought 23 soles(6 euro) with me so I didn`t have any money more to bank on.
The final day we got up at 4u30, hiked 5 minutes to the checkpoint (that only opens at 5u30) and waited anxiously for the gates to open. I was the first one there and as soon the portal opened I ran to be the first to arrive at Inti Punku also known as the sun gate and entrance to the ancient city of MachuPicchu. From Inti Punku, you normally can see MachuPicchu lying in the bottom distance (1 hour walk away). It was 7u in the morning, still somewhat dark and the clouds were still covering the flanks of the mountains (visibility rating was zero). I started panicking and cursing, thinking to myself is this why I did all the effort just to see not a darn thing? Grumbling I walked down but suddenly slowly I saw the clouds disappear and revealing the lost city surrounded by mountains. I don`t know what went through my mind at that particular moment (happiness, relief, astonishment, self satisfaction …) but it certainly blew me away. The reward for 3 days of suffering lied at my feet and I started running to be the first there. This was not possible however as the entrance for daily tourists already opens at 6u. They should open it first for the people of the Inca trail. Still, at that moment nothing could take away my sense of joy.
I walked upon this world wonder informed about the history by our guide and covered in mosquitoes (there were millions of them) until 12 in the afternoon and had not a penny left (3 soles I used for luggage store at Machupicchu which is obliged). I had to live of boiled water of the day before and wasn`t able to buy the slightest amount of food. Now I understood what it was, living without money. My train only departed at 16u and I waited starving to death until I arrived at 21u in my hostel. I ran upstairs, got my money and sprinted to the nearby pollo brasa restaurant and ate like a savage. I adore food…… …….

Tonight the 5th of October I am taking the 12hr lasting night bus to La Paz, Bolivia and will swap my Peruvian adventure for a Bolivian one

Adios
Pennyless Inca Clint

PERU (I): Vamonos, Vamonos !!!

Chicos y chicas,

My plane from Panama City to Lima has landed safely on the soil of Peru! Leaving customs and after picking up the luggage everybody has to press a button in the airport. It is a sort of sampling system that indicates if your luggage must be checked or not. When it is green you can just move along but when it turns red, your luggage has to go through control. Carrying my machete, I really hoped it would turn green but of course it didn`t (who was that guy again with his law). Adrenaline rushed through my body and I faced the dilemma of telling on beforehand I carried a 40 cm long knife or just act stupid if they would find it. I chose the latter one of probably being the best strategy. My backpack went through their screening system but apparently you are allowed to bring a machete into the country as they didn`t give any remark at all. Happily moving further I was picked up by a taxi driver the hostal had arranged for me. Crossing Lima and exercising my new learned language with him, I arrived in the beautiful and extremely safe part of Lima called Miraflores. There I stayed for 2 days sightseeing the town and relaxing (watching the final of the US open and seeing Kim Clijsters win it). I was the only person in a room that had the capacity for 8 people. As for me every capital is more or less just a necessary stop for further crossing the country, I left it after 2 days and headed for Nasca. Capitals can be so lonely as the majority of tourists now are couples and older retired people.

Nasca is the little town famous for the mysterious Nasca lines and figures. These are lines created in the soil of the extreme desertly landscape and are more than 1000 years old. To get to know the history of these lines a little bit more, I visited the local Maria Reich Planetarium the first night. The reason and construction of these lines are still not perfectly clear and one can only assume how and why the Nasca people did it. Some theories say it was for religious purposes but also astronomical creations could be a possibility. For example the Monkey could represent the Great Bear constellation. After having had this explanation, obviously I needed to see these lines since I probably won`t come back to this place. The only way you can see them however is by air (this is why they were only discovered in the 20th century and why the panamerican highway runs through one figure) and this is evidently exploited by the peruvian people. So I paid an expensive 60 $ for a 30 minute flight with a CESNA C206. As copilot ( :-) ) I really enjoyed the take off and landing but during the flight the pilot was turning the plane for about 30 times in order for us to clearly see the figures so that it made all of us somewhat nauseous untill I sensed a certain vomit smell. The inevitable had happened and the old lady in the back threw up. Luckily this was at the end of the flight so the other passengers and the 2 pilots weren`t to bothered with it. I certainly enjoyed the view and thought the monkey, spider and hummingbird were the most spectacular nasca figures.
In the afternoon I visited the Chauchilla cemetery ( first I didn`t want to go, but as there was still one place available and price had dropped, I agreed to it). This place is a cemetery (the only one in Peru where mummies can be seen in their original graves) with all mummies of nasca people that are extremely well preserved because of the dry conditions in this part of the country (it only rains here four hours a year). The cemetery was looted by grave robbers for many years so all the treasures the mummies kept in their tombs were taken away. After seeing these chauchilla mummies the trip went on to 2 places where the processes of pottery making and extracting gold were explained.


Continuing my journey in Peru, I had to go to Arequipa to hike in the nearby Colca canyon. This canyon is twice as deep as the grand canyon and the deepest in the world.
I went on a 3-day hiking tour including guide, food and place to sleep for the same amount of money as the flight above the Nasca lines. Unbelievable (what a rip off the flight was). There, for the first time I was exposed to high altitudes (4900 m max) which my body beared without any problem. The first day we went to the highest point of the canyon by bus stopping at Cruz Del Condor where these majestic birds (vultures) could be spotted. Their wingspan really was incredible to see. The trip continued to Cabanaconde where the real hike started. We descended the canyon for three hours in the blistering sun. During the descent I was constantly leaving the group behind because the pace was just not fast enough. I tried to stop and wait for them in the beginning but eventually hiked down on my own tempo wearing my headphones and listening to Oasis to have some company. I just can`t do something without competing and testing my limits. I think it is just in my blood, I need competion in almost everything I do. The guide even gave me the nickname Speedy Gonzales. I was constantly shouting vámonos vámonos (let`s go) to the frustration of some other hikers. Arriving at 16u we stayed in beautiful cabins and had alpaca for dinner that night. There we sat eating alpaca at the bottom of the colca canyon (didn`t see that one coming). The program of the second day was also not too difficult and was just heading for the nearby oasis with swimming pools. So cool to have an oasis in the middle of the deserted canyon. The final day we had to climb 1200 m to reach Cabanaconde from where we started the first day. We started at 5 AM to beat the sun. It was supposed to take 3 hours but I did it in 1 hour 35 minutes and was the first tourist to reach the top (VAMONOS VAMONOS!!). On the way up I was caught up by a local young guy which I tried to follow but that was simply not possible (he was running up the mountain!). After this we had breakfast and went to the nearby hot Springs to rest and relax our tired legs. Going back to Arequipa at 1u00 PM stopping on some miradors for panorama pictures I arrived at the hostel at 6u00 PM ,went to bed and slept like a baby.

Tomorrow I will go to Puno, a little town located on the peruvian side of Lake Titicaca.

Ciao

Competitive hiker Clint