Like Its a wonderful country that I never totally enjoyed. I loved all the great places I have been. enjoyed the company of many wonderful people. Peruvians have a warm and open culture and fascinitating history, both recent and past. I have heard incredible stories, and met people doing incredible work, both back breaking menial and intellectually inspired. Some of the cities here are amazing. Arequipa is gorgeous colonial buildings carved from white volcanic stone and painted in happy colourful streets. Its refined. I went to the russian ballet performance of swan like. I can comfortably say that I have know everything there is to know about ballet now. Expect to hear many arrogant stories where I assert my superior ballet knowledge on the basis of this occasion. Lima is sweet but melancholy. The coastal mist lies over the city for eight months every hear. There is no sun. Its big, its dirty, its opulant. I had nothing but good times there. I lived three lovely weeks on the coast, the little surf town Huanchaco kept me constantly meeting new and fascinating company. I learnt a lot about Americans and rested up good. I have been Homesick through all of Peru, and I think its been stopping me really get into the place. But just as I`m leaving, getting on a Amazon barge for a 3 day travel to the tri border with Colombia and Brazil tomorrow, I`ve realised I am having more fun travelling than I would be at home. The last month in Peru is the happiest I have felt in my life.
I miss everyone at home, and some of my road buddies lots. And I can`t wiat to see you all when we do. But I`m gonna be living in Colombia for 2 months before I come home, and can´t wait for a new country (especially one where the beauty of the women is so famed).
From the sweaty amazon in peru.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
The Rest of Boliva or Mi Amigita
I am doing that country a terrible injustice but I really need to catch up to the present. I have been in peru nearly two months now. And I should get bolivia finished with. Its an incredibly varied country wiht immense amounts of shit to do. Considering they don´t have an ocean (stolen by the chileans in a long ago war and you´ll hear about it too) it has almost everything. A navy even operates on the amazingly beautiful lake titicaca.
I travelled by bikes and then power canoes from the cordilleras (the climatic zone between the andes and amozon) all the way down into the basin proper. It was an amazing trip. Flourescent iridescent blue butterflies floated over the river. Spider monekey and birds and even a squirrel played in the trees. I managed to save my bag carrying my only money card, and my passport, and all my information books, and the novel to console me if anything bad happens as it was halfway through its flight toward the rapids. We finished up the tour in a place called rurrenebaque where I saw almost more widelife just haning out in the town with the 8 year old chilean boy whose accent I simply could not understand.
From there I embarked on the most amibitious travelling I have undertook. A wonderful function of the spanish langauge is sometthing called a diminutivo, or diminuative. It allows you to make anything smaller sinply by adding ito or ita to the word. Casa being house casita then becomes little house, or hut. Brilliant. Me and an exceptionally tiny and really grear english girl decided to try to take a boat through the jungle up river through the middle of the country. This involved first a two day trip to another city, and when I mentioned our plan to a lovely kiwi couple we intreped travellers four set out. And it was brilliant. The cargo port informed us there was no boats going the way we wanted for the best part of 2 months so we just trecked it in shared taxi vans called truphies and the odd bus. We travelled the whole bolivian lowlands. Seeing maccaws sloths, swimming in a local amozonian tributary swimming hole and finding the large and very isolated german mennoite population. We ate lard stew for breakfast and got food poisoning from a market. the food was delicious and cheap though so we kept coming back.
My tiny and female hence amigita, freind and I decided to go to Santa cruz. The capital of bolivias biggest department, bolivias biggest and richest city and the center of the movement cede from bolivia. I loved the city. two weeks out from winter solstice there were mangos budding on trees and people playing chess in the central plaza in t shirts at 3 in the morning. Cruceñas are freindly and welcoming. I had such a brilliant time introducing claire as mi amigita clara, and it was appreciated so much by the bolivians and I was asked where are you from so often that I said it 5 times a day. Mi amigita and I are still on great terms. She just got engaged in california!
I then went through Bolivias second capital, judicial as opposed to governmental. And if you listen to the residents, the real capital. And it certainly feels that way. The buildings are all bone white. Incredibly pretty parks and architecture. There is a sense of quiet progress in the town. Its beautiful.
From there back to La Paz and to Tiwinaku (some pre incan ruins) for the winter soltice. And ancient party. And cold. over 4000 metres above sea level on the shortest night of the year. My thick poncho and te con te (whisky with te. A brilliant euphemism) weren´t enought to keep me warm. The first rays of the andean new year struck my outheld hands in possibly the site of the oldest human civisillation. Sadly very little research has been done and we know nothing about the culture that created the carvings and buildings once standing there.
From there I left by way of lake titicaca. 4000 metres above sea level. And massive. Like an inland sea. I´m sure its bigger than some european nations (they are all so poxy small aren´t they?). The clearset coldest water. Red mountains. Trout. A dark night sky. I stayed on the isla del sol, the birth place of the sun in Incan mythology. They are without elecricity on the north part of the island and I had warm tomato soup and met a french freind. She and I caught the bus into Peru together the next day.
And that is a horribly abridged vesrion of events up until two months ago. Expect more like this soon when I come to write of peru. For now deccasout!
I travelled by bikes and then power canoes from the cordilleras (the climatic zone between the andes and amozon) all the way down into the basin proper. It was an amazing trip. Flourescent iridescent blue butterflies floated over the river. Spider monekey and birds and even a squirrel played in the trees. I managed to save my bag carrying my only money card, and my passport, and all my information books, and the novel to console me if anything bad happens as it was halfway through its flight toward the rapids. We finished up the tour in a place called rurrenebaque where I saw almost more widelife just haning out in the town with the 8 year old chilean boy whose accent I simply could not understand.
From there I embarked on the most amibitious travelling I have undertook. A wonderful function of the spanish langauge is sometthing called a diminutivo, or diminuative. It allows you to make anything smaller sinply by adding ito or ita to the word. Casa being house casita then becomes little house, or hut. Brilliant. Me and an exceptionally tiny and really grear english girl decided to try to take a boat through the jungle up river through the middle of the country. This involved first a two day trip to another city, and when I mentioned our plan to a lovely kiwi couple we intreped travellers four set out. And it was brilliant. The cargo port informed us there was no boats going the way we wanted for the best part of 2 months so we just trecked it in shared taxi vans called truphies and the odd bus. We travelled the whole bolivian lowlands. Seeing maccaws sloths, swimming in a local amozonian tributary swimming hole and finding the large and very isolated german mennoite population. We ate lard stew for breakfast and got food poisoning from a market. the food was delicious and cheap though so we kept coming back.
My tiny and female hence amigita, freind and I decided to go to Santa cruz. The capital of bolivias biggest department, bolivias biggest and richest city and the center of the movement cede from bolivia. I loved the city. two weeks out from winter solstice there were mangos budding on trees and people playing chess in the central plaza in t shirts at 3 in the morning. Cruceñas are freindly and welcoming. I had such a brilliant time introducing claire as mi amigita clara, and it was appreciated so much by the bolivians and I was asked where are you from so often that I said it 5 times a day. Mi amigita and I are still on great terms. She just got engaged in california!
I then went through Bolivias second capital, judicial as opposed to governmental. And if you listen to the residents, the real capital. And it certainly feels that way. The buildings are all bone white. Incredibly pretty parks and architecture. There is a sense of quiet progress in the town. Its beautiful.
From there back to La Paz and to Tiwinaku (some pre incan ruins) for the winter soltice. And ancient party. And cold. over 4000 metres above sea level on the shortest night of the year. My thick poncho and te con te (whisky with te. A brilliant euphemism) weren´t enought to keep me warm. The first rays of the andean new year struck my outheld hands in possibly the site of the oldest human civisillation. Sadly very little research has been done and we know nothing about the culture that created the carvings and buildings once standing there.
From there I left by way of lake titicaca. 4000 metres above sea level. And massive. Like an inland sea. I´m sure its bigger than some european nations (they are all so poxy small aren´t they?). The clearset coldest water. Red mountains. Trout. A dark night sky. I stayed on the isla del sol, the birth place of the sun in Incan mythology. They are without elecricity on the north part of the island and I had warm tomato soup and met a french freind. She and I caught the bus into Peru together the next day.
And that is a horribly abridged vesrion of events up until two months ago. Expect more like this soon when I come to write of peru. For now deccasout!
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Bolivia part 1( Bolivia Parte Uno)
Well I have been in Boliva nearly two and a half months now and not written anything about it. And now because I have spent so much time here I feel like I have nothing to say. I have a good enough idea of the culture to know that there is know way I know enough to do it justice. I have met enough people that I know I will feel terrible when I forget some.
I arrived by 4wd from Chile. Bumping along high altitude desert roads and revving the engine terribly to do the cars inability to get out of 4th gear. Stuffed in with some enjoyable young english company and a quiet but amable chilean woman I made my way past lakes both malodious and colourful and other desolate and beautiful scenery. The Altiplano desert chared by Chile, Argentina and Boliva is surely one of the most inhospitable places on earth. Obviously I was struck first by the expansive dryness but learn of more things to deny life any hope the longer I stayed. Hours of driving revealed only rocks, sand and short tussocky drass. Normally sparse but at times looking almost like a lawn would after three days of people drunken whippersnippering. Unlike Australian deserts the horizon doesnt aggressively stare you down, challanging you to confront your own insignificance, instead the desert hear stokes fears. As well as the sparse dryness there is the terrible cold. The breeze cuts through clothes cruelly whilst the sun burns your skin. The thinness of the atmosphere makes any effort incredibly difficult which I was to learn at La Cuidad de Sapos or city of toads. This was one of miy highlights of the 3 day desert tour. A giant rock formation (what are so many rocks doing up so high!) that from a distant looks like it could be an ancient city. And named for the toads because some of the rocks look a little like toads if you squint. My erstwhile english companions discovered that if you squint you can find many more things, crocodiles, eagles, faces and turtles amongst other things. I think the human brain is very good at finding shapes and meaning amongst the meaningless. Happily walking alone I heard Jack call to me. He´d found himslef a wonderful perch on top of some rocks and informed that the view was truly wonderful. I climbed some rocks to get around teh back, and then a steep but easy 4 metre climb to the platform my freind was on. I was absolutely fucked. I could do nothing but lie on the rock platform and struggle for breath and words for 4 minutes, i felt like I had escaped a near drowning and not that I had navigated a short climb. The thinness of the atmosphere would be a constant enemy in my time in Bolivia. At many times after struggling up stairs hills and other similar obstacles I have asked the chuckling Bolivians at the top; ¿Donde esta la atmosphera? or where is the atmosphere.
Thats all for now, I must go and drink delicious german beer with language school freinds. I will endeavour to write more in the near future.
I arrived by 4wd from Chile. Bumping along high altitude desert roads and revving the engine terribly to do the cars inability to get out of 4th gear. Stuffed in with some enjoyable young english company and a quiet but amable chilean woman I made my way past lakes both malodious and colourful and other desolate and beautiful scenery. The Altiplano desert chared by Chile, Argentina and Boliva is surely one of the most inhospitable places on earth. Obviously I was struck first by the expansive dryness but learn of more things to deny life any hope the longer I stayed. Hours of driving revealed only rocks, sand and short tussocky drass. Normally sparse but at times looking almost like a lawn would after three days of people drunken whippersnippering. Unlike Australian deserts the horizon doesnt aggressively stare you down, challanging you to confront your own insignificance, instead the desert hear stokes fears. As well as the sparse dryness there is the terrible cold. The breeze cuts through clothes cruelly whilst the sun burns your skin. The thinness of the atmosphere makes any effort incredibly difficult which I was to learn at La Cuidad de Sapos or city of toads. This was one of miy highlights of the 3 day desert tour. A giant rock formation (what are so many rocks doing up so high!) that from a distant looks like it could be an ancient city. And named for the toads because some of the rocks look a little like toads if you squint. My erstwhile english companions discovered that if you squint you can find many more things, crocodiles, eagles, faces and turtles amongst other things. I think the human brain is very good at finding shapes and meaning amongst the meaningless. Happily walking alone I heard Jack call to me. He´d found himslef a wonderful perch on top of some rocks and informed that the view was truly wonderful. I climbed some rocks to get around teh back, and then a steep but easy 4 metre climb to the platform my freind was on. I was absolutely fucked. I could do nothing but lie on the rock platform and struggle for breath and words for 4 minutes, i felt like I had escaped a near drowning and not that I had navigated a short climb. The thinness of the atmosphere would be a constant enemy in my time in Bolivia. At many times after struggling up stairs hills and other similar obstacles I have asked the chuckling Bolivians at the top; ¿Donde esta la atmosphera? or where is the atmosphere.
Thats all for now, I must go and drink delicious german beer with language school freinds. I will endeavour to write more in the near future.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
A Car Trip
What gorgeous terrain on the way to Cachi. And what a stunning girl next to me.
"Schumaker." She jokes as she pushes the tental car around tight corners fast enough to make the safety conscious Swedes in the back seat moan. She laughs in pure pleasure at the effect she has on them. After we lunch at a wide and shallow river (whats mine is yours typical european hospitality. I enjoy the rich dark bread) the scenery soon becomes fascinating. Breaking away from rainforest we start toward the mountains and the desert. The road is cut out under a cliff follows the river. Spiderwebs clump like the fallen nests of eagles on the other side. The tree shadow beneath them is thick and dark. After we cross the rusted iron bridge the quality of the road is noticably worse. Soon a landslide covers the road. The path cut around it is covered by several black horses and one palamino with its palamino foal. The contrast is remarkable. Dutch Femca the Swedish brothers Sara the Suizia Shumacker and myself jump out of the parked car. They rush to take photo´s and capture the somewhat surreal experience and I do my best to commit it to memory. The first passing car in over an hour breaks the spell by forcing the horses off the road. So back in the car we jump. And how we wind and wind, further and furhter upwards. Tiny houses with rose gardens make tiny highway villages. Luckily for us this Schumacker lives up to her name. Her father bought her snow driving lessons for her last birthday.
"I thought it was a stupid present at the time, but I appreciate it now."
"If you´re so scared of hights stop looking of the edge." Dutch Femca berates Joel. His brother david defends him with "He´d rather look fear in the face." The joy in Sara´s laugh makes the day brighter.
We run over a couple of giant spiders and the road gets truly tough before we make the plateau. It is incredible when we do as well. What is so much space doing up so high? Beautiful yellow flowers grow in the short grass and we all leave the car to bathe in the horizons. Stretching our legs and eyes I wonder how these rocks cactus cattle road grass and wildflowers came to sit up here on the roof of the world. The awe I feel for these deserts valleys cliffs mountains and plants is nothing next to the inspiration of this girl.
"Schumaker." She jokes as she pushes the tental car around tight corners fast enough to make the safety conscious Swedes in the back seat moan. She laughs in pure pleasure at the effect she has on them. After we lunch at a wide and shallow river (whats mine is yours typical european hospitality. I enjoy the rich dark bread) the scenery soon becomes fascinating. Breaking away from rainforest we start toward the mountains and the desert. The road is cut out under a cliff follows the river. Spiderwebs clump like the fallen nests of eagles on the other side. The tree shadow beneath them is thick and dark. After we cross the rusted iron bridge the quality of the road is noticably worse. Soon a landslide covers the road. The path cut around it is covered by several black horses and one palamino with its palamino foal. The contrast is remarkable. Dutch Femca the Swedish brothers Sara the Suizia Shumacker and myself jump out of the parked car. They rush to take photo´s and capture the somewhat surreal experience and I do my best to commit it to memory. The first passing car in over an hour breaks the spell by forcing the horses off the road. So back in the car we jump. And how we wind and wind, further and furhter upwards. Tiny houses with rose gardens make tiny highway villages. Luckily for us this Schumacker lives up to her name. Her father bought her snow driving lessons for her last birthday.
"I thought it was a stupid present at the time, but I appreciate it now."
"If you´re so scared of hights stop looking of the edge." Dutch Femca berates Joel. His brother david defends him with "He´d rather look fear in the face." The joy in Sara´s laugh makes the day brighter.
We run over a couple of giant spiders and the road gets truly tough before we make the plateau. It is incredible when we do as well. What is so much space doing up so high? Beautiful yellow flowers grow in the short grass and we all leave the car to bathe in the horizons. Stretching our legs and eyes I wonder how these rocks cactus cattle road grass and wildflowers came to sit up here on the roof of the world. The awe I feel for these deserts valleys cliffs mountains and plants is nothing next to the inspiration of this girl.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Igauzu falls
THE poetry that gushed from my mind in the presence of Igauzu. Words falling from my mind like the wieghtless beauty of the water. It never stops raining at the devils throat. The spray leaps terrified into the sky escaping the violence of the tons and tons of water that mercilessly follow eachother over the edge. It then softly falls all around replinishing the grass that grows on small rock islands and the soulds of tourists who stand like me, arms out and head back all throaths and smiles and relief.
The great width of the river falls again and again at igauzu. Firstly at the devils throat. All but the very extremities of the river are drawn to fall first circle down one three metre drop and than than another much taller. It and the two waterfalls to the left and right are are least half as wide as the Brisbane river. All around are much taller but thinner waterfalls each remarkable by itself but its the combination that leaves people speachless. These falls only manage to add atmosphere because of the outrageous volume of the three biggest falls each next to eachother. How enough mighty enough to carve 50 and 60 metre scars down sheer red rock is beyond me.
Further down the river the water is punished again and again. through rapids and down more and more falls, each worthy of thier own national park.
The swarms of butterflies add almost as much wonder as the falls themselves. Drawn to the salty sweat they cover the hand rails like fingers. While people converge to drink the beauty the butterlies eagerly drink our sweat. Landing on our hats, hands, backs, the hand rails and flying round our heads. The vibrant colours flitting in and out of vision are like a psychedelic trip. Red and black, pink and black, purple with orange spots, black and grey subtlety, blues, blues, blues and the racing number 88 enclosed in concentric circles. The same species as two of the alphabet poster in my childhood bedroom. If the falls don't cause you to laugh at the sky the kaleidoscopic colour sprawls will.
What a heaven.
The great width of the river falls again and again at igauzu. Firstly at the devils throat. All but the very extremities of the river are drawn to fall first circle down one three metre drop and than than another much taller. It and the two waterfalls to the left and right are are least half as wide as the Brisbane river. All around are much taller but thinner waterfalls each remarkable by itself but its the combination that leaves people speachless. These falls only manage to add atmosphere because of the outrageous volume of the three biggest falls each next to eachother. How enough mighty enough to carve 50 and 60 metre scars down sheer red rock is beyond me.
Further down the river the water is punished again and again. through rapids and down more and more falls, each worthy of thier own national park.
The swarms of butterflies add almost as much wonder as the falls themselves. Drawn to the salty sweat they cover the hand rails like fingers. While people converge to drink the beauty the butterlies eagerly drink our sweat. Landing on our hats, hands, backs, the hand rails and flying round our heads. The vibrant colours flitting in and out of vision are like a psychedelic trip. Red and black, pink and black, purple with orange spots, black and grey subtlety, blues, blues, blues and the racing number 88 enclosed in concentric circles. The same species as two of the alphabet poster in my childhood bedroom. If the falls don't cause you to laugh at the sky the kaleidoscopic colour sprawls will.
What a heaven.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Rosario
Okay this isn´t in order my last post was written a couple of days ago and this one a week and a half. I was just lazy.
Only my second day in Rosario and already I love this city. It´s more relaxed and more friendly than Buenos Aires. Walking around and exploring yesterday and today has been a true pleasure. The city has many small and well used parks and another huge and beautiful one that follows the very wide river all the way around. I haven´t gone all the way but it looks like you could follow it for ages. As well as another romantic park with rose gardens and a damn full of couples on kick-paddle boats that have surely got hundreds of Rosarino´s laid on their first date. Its a university town regarded as having the most beautiful women in all of Argentina. Yesterday on the way back from my walk I got so overwhelmed by the attractiveness of the female inhabitants that I had to sit down. Anyone who argues against racial mixing needs to come to Argentina. There are big flat cement squares covered with skateboarders and bmx riders. It´s surely and extreme sport capital. The river at the city´s edge is very broad. There are unpopulated islands on the other side. They stay unpopulated due to frequent flooding so the mosquito´s breed in the marshland uninterrupted. It shows too, I am smothered in repellent but they still land on my clothes. One, two, three on me and evidently quite confused that this skin yeilds no sustenance and even more flying around.
If a small and relaxed river city didn´t already remind me of home then the Jacaranda´s do. I have even been shocked to find a few Bunya pines around. And right now where I sit I can see several eucalypts and a tree that was in my back garden at home. The one the bee´s swarmed in.
Unfortunatly I have not many many people in this town I really get along with. Met a few lovely local lads which I really hope I can see again, and they people here do seem really nice. Just alot of the travellers coming through don´t strike me as so wonderful. Nonetheless I would consider Living here for years if only I could have five lifetimes.
Only my second day in Rosario and already I love this city. It´s more relaxed and more friendly than Buenos Aires. Walking around and exploring yesterday and today has been a true pleasure. The city has many small and well used parks and another huge and beautiful one that follows the very wide river all the way around. I haven´t gone all the way but it looks like you could follow it for ages. As well as another romantic park with rose gardens and a damn full of couples on kick-paddle boats that have surely got hundreds of Rosarino´s laid on their first date. Its a university town regarded as having the most beautiful women in all of Argentina. Yesterday on the way back from my walk I got so overwhelmed by the attractiveness of the female inhabitants that I had to sit down. Anyone who argues against racial mixing needs to come to Argentina. There are big flat cement squares covered with skateboarders and bmx riders. It´s surely and extreme sport capital. The river at the city´s edge is very broad. There are unpopulated islands on the other side. They stay unpopulated due to frequent flooding so the mosquito´s breed in the marshland uninterrupted. It shows too, I am smothered in repellent but they still land on my clothes. One, two, three on me and evidently quite confused that this skin yeilds no sustenance and even more flying around.
If a small and relaxed river city didn´t already remind me of home then the Jacaranda´s do. I have even been shocked to find a few Bunya pines around. And right now where I sit I can see several eucalypts and a tree that was in my back garden at home. The one the bee´s swarmed in.
Unfortunatly I have not many many people in this town I really get along with. Met a few lovely local lads which I really hope I can see again, and they people here do seem really nice. Just alot of the travellers coming through don´t strike me as so wonderful. Nonetheless I would consider Living here for years if only I could have five lifetimes.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
A Morningin Rosario
Sitting on the balcony my notebook is shaded by me arm, my face by the door way I am set back from the sun in. My legs sizzle in the heat and my skin glories in the sensation as they balance on the bricks covered by peeling cement that make up the balustrades marking the balcony´s short perimeter. The pale blue sky (celeste in spanish) contrasts with the faded white and grey cement buildings in the foreground. Rust coloured brick aparts on my right. The sixth floor balcony is a riot with green plants and shades the white paint below. A wisp of cloud breaks into more and thinner sheets above me and is sure to disappear completely before it floats out of eye-shot. All around the differing decorative balustrades add texture above the bustling streets. The busy lives of florists and pedestrians mimicked by the pigeons flying between building above. The furthest building I can see is white against blue that grows paler closer to the horizon. On the left of this furthest building I can see the sky through the cage of someones balcony and through the building itself through a hole cut in its flesh. The sky is no nearer or further but it plays a funny trick with perspective.
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