DEliTOUR

It's almost over now.

2009-03-24T04:56:00.000-07:00

The time has come to wrap this baby up and shut it down. We keep getting asked 'what was the best this...' or 'where was the best that...' so, in the most arbitrary and subjective fashion, and with scant justification, here are the top lists. This is the best and worst stuff in the world...

Top countries
1. Argentina
2. Ecuador
3. Mexico

California would have been in with a shout if it had independence. Argentina has it all - and we didn't even make it to the glaciers, Iguazu, the pampas or the beaches. Ecuador is everything Peru claims to be. And Mexico is probably the most fascinating country we have been to.

Top beaches
1. Galapagos Islands
2. Park Tayrona, Columbia
3. Big Corn Island

Probably the toughest category, as we have seen probably close to a thousand beaches in a year. The Galapagos Islands are known for wildlife but the beaches are spectacular, and of course, not populated and unspoiled. The Abel Tasman national park in NZ South Island was also similar to Park Tayrona but lacked the Caribbean waters and 35 degree weather. Long Beach on Big Corn was just jaw dropping.

Top cats
1. The little black one at La Paz hostel, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala
2. The fluffy white one at the Plantation House, Salento, Columbia
3. The scruffy orphan at Elsa's, Little Corn Island, Nicaragua

The ginger from Wheeler's, the very silly fat grey one from New Zealand and the blind white one from Utila all deserve props.

Top disappointments
1. Machu Picchu, Peru
2. Franz Josef and Fox glaciers, New Zealand
3. Aukland

We believed the hype. Don't. The Experience Project in Seattle also deserves a mention for being a 15 million dollar plank with zero Jimi. Auckland was just bad. After so many other historic sites in Central America, Machu Picchu was over-priced and over-hyped. The glaciers, far from being 'the experience of a lifetime' looked like tiny Finnish ski slopes in Spring.

Top places to stay
1. Izhcayluma, Vilcabamba, Ecuador
2. Earth Lodge, near Antigua, Guatemala
3. La Paz, San Marcos, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala

Izhcayluma could arguably be the best hostel in the world. It does actually have the feel of a spa at backpacker prices, serves fantastic German food, has awesome views of the Valley of Longevity, and a very, very nice bar - where I am undisputed pool and table tennis champion. Ruby's Inn on Utila deserves mention for being the only place in the world where they clean the shower curtains - hostel owners take note! Earth Lodge is an avocado farm overlooking active volcanos, and La Paz has a yoga school. It says here.

Top walks
1. Laguna 69, Hauraz, peru
2. Colca Canyon, Peru
3. Yosemite, California, USA

On one hand we 'diss' Peru but then we say it is the best place in the world to walk. Yes, we are two-faced-tourists. We didn't do any serious trekking involving the need for specialised equipment, and we always got local instructions to avoid taking a guide. Laguna 69 took us up to 4800m and planted us under several 6000m Andean peaks. Colca Canyon is the 2nd deepest in the world (the deepest is just around the corner). You get perspective-changing views but also time to enjoy everyday mountain village life. Just getting out of the car at Yosemite is mind-blowing. Special mention for the Grand Canyon (though we didn't walk long enough really), and Key Summit in New Zealand on the way to Milford.

Top meals
1. Cerviche, Santiago, Chile
2. Las Tinajas, Cordoba, Argentina
3. 100% Natural, Acapulco, Mexico // Mole, Oaxaca, Mexico

We reckon Mexico has the best food in the world. And none of it is covered in yellow slime. Cerviche is fish cooked in lime. On our last night in South America we had a huge amount of salmon, barracuda and king prawns all cooked in lime and washed down with the local white. Where - we can't remember! Tinajas in Cordoba is reckoned to be the largest all-you-can-eat restaurant in the world. With 1200 covers there is a bit of a cruise ship vibe but my god, it is awesome. Our diverse tastes (meat vs no meat) made us split the number 3 spot. 100% natural was great food... for rabbits (no... I had a bizzo nut burger) and the Oaxacan delicacies made me purr.

Top man made sights
1. Easter Island
2. Tikal
3. Las Vegas

Surprised...? Well, we thought long and hard about this. We thought Tikal bossed all the other ancient sites we saw (but we didn't see Angkor in the end). Easter Island (and, in particular Orongo) is no.1 for cosmicity. Vegas is just hilarious.

Top islands
1. Little Corn Island. Nicaragua
2. Caye Caulker, Belize
3. Easter Island, Chile

Props for Puerto Rico itself, its sibling; Vieques, South Island New Zealand, and Koh Jum in Thailand. These three have something extra special. Even in driving rain for one week, Little Corn was paradise. Caye Caulker is sand-bar Caribbean heaven and Easter Island is out-of-this-world. Perhaps all of these are also unspoilt by mass tourism.

Top stuff we missed
1. Angel Falls, Venezuela
2. Iguazu Falls, Argentina/Brazil
3. Glaciers National Park, Patagonia, Argentina

Big-ups to those who keep asking 'didn't you go to Africa?'. Angkor Wat, Cambodia, and the Similan and Surin Islands in Thailand could also be here. But, having gone to Venezuela, we were gutted that the currency situation got in the way of Angel Falls (and any thoughts of seeing table-top mountains). All reports suggest Iguazu may be the most spectacular falls in the world but we chose penguins, and southern Patagonia was just too far in the short time we had given ourselves in Argentina. Next time though...

Top natural wonders
1. Grand Canyon, Arizona, USA
2. Salar De Uyuni, Bolivia
3. Milford Sound, New Zealand

Crickey... how does Yosemite not make this list... or the Galapagos. Really these five places are in a different class. They are all incredible. Even ignoring the fauna on the Galapagos, it is still incredible. Yes, these are (the) five places you should see in your lifetime. Just make sure you see Milford in Spring (Oct/Nov) when the waterfalls are on. Also see the Grand Canyon in Spring (April/May) and take a long hike. Same for Yosemite; the season starts April/May when the waterfalls are popping.

Top places to go back to
1. Whistler
2. Galapagos
3. Grand Canyon

This is the answer to the question; 'if you had to go somewhere tomorrow...?' Having Whistler there tells that we really haven't been to enough big ski resorts. One reason to go back is to do the heli-skiing. Also I was favouring my shoulder at the time and could've gone more extreme! Argentina and Mexico are probably the two countries to go back to. Galapagos again outside of September with warmer water, some extra islands and more and more snorkeling.

Top surprises
1. Puerto Rico
2. Columbia
3. California

PR is rockin'. World-class beaches. World class music and nightlife. An America city on a Caribbean island. It is something special - and we had the best hospitality there. Columbia was fresh and felt a little pioneering as tourism is in its infancy there. California was a big surprise to Miss Deli in particular - the human and natural diversity is unparalleled.

Worst places to stay
1. Grand Trunk Hostel, Vancouver, Canada
2. Pitstop, Medellin, Columbia
3. Refugio, Antigua, Guatemala

Avoid these places like the plague. Pitstop was the saddest spectacle of drug-tourism - the kind of thing that it is a big potential banana skin for Columbia as it receives more visitors. An honourary mention must go to Pangea Hostel in San Jose, Costa Rica - this place was a multi-storey prison, packed with teenagers wearing wrist bands. If this is the global village then we should put a torch to it now.

Top homes away from home
1. Morelos, San Blas, Mexico
2. Sun Smile, Koh Jum, Thailand
3. Fiddy, Wicked Campers, New Zealand

These were the places where we really felt at home. If we had stayed longer then Sunset on Koh Chang, and Ruby's on Utila, then they would be contenders too. Morelos had a stork, a kitchen, free water refills, a short walk to the plaza and market, and San Blas was very special. Sun Smile was our home for 41 nights - we know every shade of the sunset and the outline of every palm. '750 Rebels', the Toyota Camina, looked after us for a month, and assisted us greatly in the consumption of wine, cheese and kniffel.

Top wildlife encounters
1. Galapagos Islands
2. Peninsula Valdez, Patagonia, Argentina
3. Rurrenabaque, Bolivia

The bio-luminescent bay on Vieques, Puerto Rico gets a commendation but these were the big three. Snorkeling with sea lions, sharks, rays turtles and millions of fish - all the time - and wandering through crowds of boobies, sea lions and lizards. Sea lion, sea lion, sea lion... Galapagos is one of the world's true natural wonders. Peninsula Valdez is where you can sea killer whales eating seals in the waves. We got up close with whales and sea lions and saw hundreds and thousands of penguins nearby at Punta Tombo. Rurre boasts giant anacondas, crocs, piranhas, pink dolphins and thousands of giant rats, and some of the worst guides in the world.

The blogger.com engine doesn't make it easy for me to add and caption pictures in with this but I will come up with something... probably. Until then we can infer that the FunkiDeli.fi DEliTOUR (with promotional consideration from Dick Bliss Park and Wanka Tours, Mendoza) is over. I am off to England for a week. We are back at home in our flat. We are looking for work and looking for our friends... Thanks for tuning in.

The last few weeks in Thailand

2009-03-24T04:26:00.000-07:00

Pretty much as planned we went to Koh Phayam and enjoyed the vast beach at Ao Yai. We found a nice front-rower at Coconut Beach Resort - a basic bamboo job - set in spacious grounds. We realised on the first night that we were the next bungalow from the South Star Bar. The 6pm reggae was OK most nights but we had a pretty uncomfortable night when they blasted away some really disappointing tunes until 3AM.

Koh Phayam had a little touch of the nightmarish. There was an awful lot of faux spirituality and juggling going on. But, even though there must have been 3-400 people staying on Ao Yai, it never felt crowded on the sand. I found some good volleyball games and we played frisbee in the sand. We took a scooter around the island and found it to be developing fast with ex-pat businesses. Phayam is out-of-the-way as it is close to the Burmese border and away from other tourist centres but it seems to be getting a reputation - in a couple of years it might be a serious party party island - though the lack of electricity should slow things down.

We met the charming Laurent, Nina and their child, Victor, from Paris, and we spent the days with banana shakes, guitars nd kniffel. We also ate some of the best food, and certainly best value food, of our trip, at the tiny family Pratsai restaurant just inland from the beach, Huge, tasty curries, packed with fresh veg, were only 60 baht, and we enjoyed them nearly every night.

After a few days in Ranong online we went to Burma for an hour and came back to get our stamps to entitle us to the last 14 days of our trip in Thailand. After that we decided to check out Koh Chang before heading to Bangkok. Little Koh Chang (to avoid confusion with big Koh Chang in the North) was very much like Koh Jum. Super quiet, a lot of candle power, and a very relaxed traveler vibe.

We got very lucky and found a bungalow at Sunset Resort at the North end of the main tourist beach. The week flew past in a blur of curries, banana shakes, volleyball, walks, giant-lizards-in-the-bathroom. I guess we were starting focus more and more on returning home.

We had our last week in Bangkok. We made it to the weekend market and, though it was spectacular and had some more individual clothes, we found the prices for tourist tat were more competitive near where we were staying at Khao San Road. Next time we go we will see some temples and buddhas but this time we shopped and hung in the rooftop pool we had accidentally acquired in our desperate scrum for a hotel room upon arrival. It was a very pleasant surprise.

Bangkok probably demonstrates the worst aspects to tourism, traveling and perhaps even human development in general. It is a particularly good place for making you value your return home. Bangkok is terribly polluted - dangerously so at the wrong time in the wrong place. And to get anywhere takes immense patience. We were very much a part of it, but perhaps the most unsettling aspect to life in the tourist areas (beyond even the disgusting sex trade) is Bangkok's role in the homogenisation of global culture. Of course there are pirated goods. Yet there are also people from 100 countries buying the season's fashions and recycling them worldwide. It brought home how bizarre it has been to see teenagers dressed in the same (fake) quasi-street-surf gear from San Diego to Santiago to South East Asia.

Overall Thailand was, if not a revelation, then still a bonus. We found that there are islands for every taste and budget and the same safe feeling that you get in other primarily non-violent societies (e.g. India) combined with novelties like very alternative cultural attractions, transport methods, cuisine and customs. The drawback would be the two-tier system that is in operation, which basically means that there a lot of people trying to rip you off. I am not going to dwell on this again though. Thailand was a great pleasure and now I totally understand why it is so popular. We will definitely go again.

Re-entry plan

2009-02-12T00:31:00.000-08:00

For the logisticians amongst you here is the plan:

Fri 13.2 Leave Krabi for Ranong, gateway to Burma/Myanmar and Koh Chang/Koh Phayam islands

Sun 15.2 To Koh Phayam probably - to enjoy some secluded beach action

26.2 Back to Ranong

27.2 'Visa run' - terrible phrase used by all around these parts and not even correct. We will go on a day trip to Myanmar to get a 15 day visa waiver program entry stamp when we come back into Thailand - not a visa at all. As our Thai visas run out on 27.2. We could pay 1900 baht (40 euros) each for a 30 day extension here in Krabi but it is cheaper and more fun to see a far flung outpost of a ghastly, dictatorial regime

28.2 - 12.3 Head to Bangkok and discover the city - and do some shopping

12.23 Fly home

15-18.3 Tahko

24-30.3 I fly to Gatwick from Helsinki with Easyjet for the first time - I'm sure it will be luxury

1.4 We move back into our flat and, if we are lucky, start some work

Leaving Koh Jum

2009-02-11T21:25:00.000-08:00

We managed a total of 41 nights at Sun Smile bungalow (sic) on Koh Jum, breaking the previous record of 30 nights held by some Canadian geezer from last year. We made our host, Mr Ka, a card listing all the records we had broken - of course, he doesn't read any English but it was with great joy that we noted Anna's 1297 3-line Kniffel high score and other nonsense. And we left behind the cribbage board that I had fashioned from drifwood. I don't think my veneering grandfather would have been too impressed by my effort but it served the purpose - I never dreamed I would have a girlfriend who would learn and then want to play cribbage - my father would have been impressed.

The last few weeks at Sun Smile were a little different. We encountered the Andaman jellyfish season, which was a little disconcerting. We investigated and found that it is an annual event but still, the sight of hundreds of sizable (5-20cm diameter) blue but harmless cauliflower-like jellyfish washed up on the beach every day for a week, put us off the water. And then another guest got stung by something else. And the other guests were all much older for the first time. In our last stint we were there 18 nights. We still loved it and were able to relax and carry on much as before.

It was a bit sad on the penultimate day when I had a run in with a Swiss couple who had been very moody to everyone. They took offence when Anna and I sat in the sunchairs at the back of the beach - they seemed to have got the idea that they owned the place and had upset another girl the day before by asking her to leave the sunchairs. We were reading and the guy didn't even speak to us but came up and started arranging furniture a few inches in front of us mumbling about how "he likes this part of the beach". Basically he was gutted that we were standing up to their bullying on behalf of all the guests. They were instructed to 'do one'. Bear in mind that Sun Smile has about 800m of empty beach all around. Anyway, later we received the support of our fellow guests who then also started to use the furniture - and the Swiss skulked off embarrassed - they really were very stupid.

The end of our time at Sun Smile was dominated by 'the show', about which I must ramble now. I had long dreamed of performing some of the songs I had written at Sun Smile to thank the staff. I arranged with Mr Ka to play for them after dinner on the final Friday. We had a nice crowd; the five staff, the German 'hang' playing couple, the old Swedes, Dutch mother and daughter, French lady and Canadian boyfriend, Miss Deli and myself. I had done the rounds and apologised in advance to the other guests and, at about nine, I launched into eight new numbers. 'Virgin Soldier', 'What is this music?' (a song conveniently written about writing songs at Sun Smile), and 'A question of interface' (spawned by Ville's obsession with the future of human interaction with technology) were successfully dispatched before I explained 'My sun will never set' to Mr Ka - it being about his little boat n'all. That said it is also a banging rock blues about the deflation of ego with lyrics like "I am the emperor of the human race, you want to put me in an envelope". It is about how, when you feel at your highest peak, there is often someone around that can't wait to try and bring you down. Yes, the language barrier did prevent me getting across the finer points to the Thais in the audience.

The set continued with 'Sea gypsy', a personal favourite, written with one eye on a local fisherman who paddles past very slowly every day. It wound up with 'Hole in the ground' (a tale of the Grand Canyon, NHS funding and collateral damage) before 'Bad Machine', where I, once again, attempt to solve the Palestinian question in 3 verses. The audience were very appreciative and it was great to get to try out the new tunes.

As I was just reminded, there is nothing more boring than sportspeople talking about sports or musicians talking about music. But I had to try and paint a picture for you so you could imagine the tableau as all the farang joined together to dance out the moves to the 'dum-ching' N95 phone-backing of 'Mr.Ka', written for the staff. Regular readers might remember the Thai children's dancing that we had witnessed, along with the staff and their families, a few weeks before. Well, inspired by those moves, I had choreographed a series of sequences for the farang to act out, for the amusement of our hosts. For "Mr Ka make the noodles Mr Ka" arms are outstretched and the action of teasing spaghetti is made. For "Mr Dad drive the longtail", "Mrs Ya bring the omellete", and "Mrs Tuk bring the Chang" similar self-explanatory moves are made. For "Mrs Kim wear your glasses" the classic circle is made with the thumb and forefinger and brought up to the eye, one hand at a time. Throughout, hips are swayed, hands alternated - and we change more rapidly between the variations as we progress. And, at the end of every verse, Mr Ka is celebrated with the chorus of "Mr Ka, Mr Ka, Mr Ka, Mr Ka does everything" as one is bent over and hands are rolled repeatedly, before one slowly straightens up while opening both arms aloft in celebration. Er... don't try this at home.

Yes, it was childish, and very funny, and in 'bigging up' Mr Ka in such a way we succeeded in unravelling some of the aspects of hierarchy and deference that mark such a yawning and impenetrable chasm between Thai and western culture. Maybe. The assembled farang stood in a semi-circle around me and followed my lead as we embarrassed ourselves. It was great fun and such a change of pace, for one night only, when it is usually so tranquil. Beers contiued to be cracked open on all tables (a rarity) and I remounted the upper tier to encore with the emotionally charged 'You've given me everything' written for parents and children everywhere, especially my mum. They still hadn't had enough so I then dipped deep into the back catalogue for 'Neptune's Wrath' a fitting tale of underwater adventure. During the tumultuous middle 'storm' section the electricity failed, the candles came out, the waves roared and it was a very rewarding atmosphere. I finished with 'Tide', a song I wrote in 2004 at Christmas after hearing about the Tsunami. It seemed fitting to bring it home, in bringing that song home, to a place so affected by the big wave. No one died on Koh Jum but we had met people with the physical scars, the adjacent resort on Ao Si beach had been washed away, and we can only imagine at the psychological effect that still pervades daily life for some.

I think it would be fair to say that Mr Ka was 'chuffed to bits'. He is a man of great vision. He asked me back next year and promised a big stage, fire show and fifty gypsy dancers on the beach. I said I would do it if I could have a floating stage on the Andaman sea. I also reminded him that he really shouldn't get the jet-ski he has been talking about.

So, we departed but, after 41 nights, we were ready. We have now been in Krabi Town (again) for 3 nights. We are here specifically to communicate with people like you - and to start to look for the right jobs for our return. Even though the landscape is not as healthy as we would we wish, it seems that there are really good companies in Finland looking, so our fingers are crossed. We are both actually really excited about working again. I guess we are a little homesick now as we can't wait to get back to our flat and get back into some normal life. I am a bit worried about my wardrobe though - it doesn't really notice but I am down from 94 to under 81 kilos since we left home - even the shorts I have bought on the trip are balooning now!

Go on my son!

Canadian bloke gets urge to make portrait of the Deli; Sothebys and Gettys are put on alert

This is how we... well, how Mr Ka, makes the noodles

Monkey attack

One last Sun Smile sundown

Loose ends

2009-01-21T03:28:00.000-08:00

Mr Ka has two daughters with Mrs Kim but only one 'My Son'. That is the name of his tiny - I mean miniscule - boat that bobs about on the water occaisionally and that he takes out for morning fishing. I wrote a song about it. 'My sun never sets'. It is always there you see even after the sun goes down. There have been lots of other songs too - to be discovered in good time.

In Penang we discovered Georgetown's wonderful Little India, great food, the local salon scene, and the volume of toursists that leave Thailand for as little time as possible before returning with their new visa. There were hostels with giant waiting rooms. As soon as the passports reappeared from the visa agency everyone was back on the bus.

We just went to see Ake, Laura, Ville and Kirsi on Koh Muk. It was wonderful to see friends. We went scootering around the island as Ville got his second flat tyre. And we took a daytrip to see the Emerald cave. We went with the Norwegian honeymooning couple and the 2nd German underwater camera couple. There was a massive red jellyfish at the cave entrance we had to swim nervously around. Then we had an 80m swim, some in darkness, through the cave until we came out into a hole in the ground; a 100m wide beach surrounded 360 degrees by 250m high limestone cliffs on the edge of Koh Muk island. It was marvellous, until we swam out looking for the jellyfish, only for me to find it 5cm from my left arm. I was OK as I was wearing a rash shirt and it wasn't the kind with a tail but I felt for Anna who, of course, has the fresh memory of a nasty sting back in Honduras. As part of the trip we got to snorkel at Ko Kradan island opposite Koh Muk. It was cool to see some fish again(Nemo was there and Koh Jum is really only missing decent snorkelling and street food) but I would love to go to a prime Thai site where we might see more big stuff.

Koh Muk was very small and relaxed and Charlie's was very understated for a package resort. There were plenty of Finns about and we enjoyed the excellent food and company. We found a large bamboo bungalow to stay in for 350 baht just 10m outside Charlie's back gate and we found it really easy to slip into the scene - well, we basically hitched onto our friends holiday for 4 days!

We said goodbye to them in Trang after a day's shopping and we headed to Krabi town, the gateway to plenty more beaches and islands - and coindidentally very close to Koh Jam again. In Krabi we found a cheap but very noisy hotel for 250 baht (5 euros - the cheapest of our whole trip) and we also found market food to die for. Anything on a stick, bowls of tiny fried eggs (are they quails'?), amazing juices served in bamboo sticks, noodles and rice with anything, pancakes, more stuff on sticks, sausages, sausages, sausages - and Krabi even has shops selling cheese and wine. OK we can't afford it but we have been cheese-window-shopping. We have also been to the outta town malls - I found some more guitar strings on a half day songtaew adventure, and we took a longtail to check the famous Krabi beaches.

Railay Bay is famous as a clmbing destination and for 4 picture postcard Thai beaches. We hated it. Big new expensive proper resorts dominated the beachfront and the beaches were packed - really packed. And there were dozens and dozens of very loud longtails clogging up the beaches. It was ghastly - actually what we expected to find on Koh Muk (Muk or Mook as it is known was charming and a different world).

The weirdest thing was that we were just 40km from Koh Jum, where there is tranquility, wonderful beach and inner peace! We are heading back there tomorrow (22.1). We have to keep a lid on the budget, and that means not moving. And, as we are going to spend a lot of time somewhere, we need to feel confident about it. We could head further North to Ko Phayam and Ko Chang but everything we have read suggests they may be fine but maybe not work out as well as Koh Jum. I am sure we will visit them in a few weeks - on or around the time when we will probably have to nip into Burma (27.2) to get our stamps to stay the last 15 days in the country.

That's it for now. We have until 12.3 to enjoy Thailand. Then we have 15-18.3 in Tahko. I (and possibly Anna) will then go to England and then at the start of April... we need jobs. The big J... O... B... The time is coming. I feel really good and enthusiastic about getting back to work... but to do that I will be needing a job. Fingers crossed eh readers?

Ake helped us to surprise Ville (left)

Friends

Koh Muk's lovely main beach

Railay's beaches were packed

Stuff on sticks!

What we got up to and the village idiot

2009-01-21T02:48:00.000-08:00

We spent a total of 3 weeks at Sun Smile, with a break just after Christmas to go to Malaysia's second city (Georgetown on the island of Penang) to get our Thai toursist visas.

We did take one day on a scooter around the island to check out all the other accomodation. There are about 25 resorts altogether. Even though there were some desirable places with lovely restaurants and great (expensive) food, nothing came close to Sun Smile value-wise - and especially because we had such a relatively wide, quiet stretch of beach - and great swimming at any time of day. Most places had poor quality accomodation and rocks on the beach and in the sea - one reason why Koh Jum has stayed a quiet island.

Anna spent her days working on her already impressive tan and scorching through books. I have been playing guitar and writing songs from eight in the morning until ten at night. It has easily been the most productive and constructive I have ever been musically. I can only hope you will get to hear the results at some point my dear readers. And we managed to get down to spending 700-800 baht per day with the odd extra beer or fruit thrown in. We got trim from sensible portions and plenty of frisbee and swimming and eventually we got to know the handful of staff at Sun Smile. Of course we had a few extra dishes at xmas and new year but it was pretty understated. Let's make that supremely understated. Chilled out does not come close.

Anyway, there was some other action. In Thailand it is 2552. The year, that is. You see they started with the enlightenment of Buddha - I think he probably stayed at Sun Smile a few thousand years ago or something. But also we were in the midst of National Children's Day and a week of happennings on the island. Well, actually we were oblivious to all of this (in a bubble watching a thousand sunsets from the blacony and marvelling at the subtle changes of colour between every day's dawn and dusk) - we were oblivious but for a bizarre chain of events.

We had taken the scooter around the island and I had seen one of the boatmen with very shiny new footy boots. In Tanglish I managed to ascertain that there was some action on the Ban Ting Rai village school field. This is the village behind our place mid-island and the school field we had found when lost earlier in the day. I thought I might get the chance for a kickabout. At dusk I left Anna at the ranch and scooted over.

There were a handful of stalls up and about 50 locals milling around. It turned out there was the big 7-a-side tournament going down between the island vilages. After I had chatted to a few players I settled into to a kick about with a bunch of 7 year olds, and then sat down to watch the action with a couple of Austrian guys. We watched as Ban Koh Jum firsts held Ban Ting Rai seconds to a goalless draw forcing penalties. Then I was distracted from the action as my rugby-loving Austrian chum pointed another team's manager towards me. They looked fit and organised and needed a player so I jumped at it. Though it tuned out I wasn't going to play for my local boys, Ban Ting rai. No, I was off to the knacker's yard with the slightly older and unkempt Koh Jum seconds. And they made play in a yellow Arsenal kit. I loved it of course. But after I had chatted to the lads, not understanding a word between us,of course, and using sign language (my body actually) to indicate that I would play in front our goalkeeper, I realised that there were now 150-200 people sat around the pitch in the dusk. Pretty much the whole of middle village.

And there was a commentator. With a big PA. In Thai of course. The game started OK. And I was the only Farang (foreigner). And when I approached the ball you could sense the pitch rise in his commentary. And the pitch was one third rocks, one third hard sand and one third shag-pile length grass. And then we conceded a soft opener. They cut us apart easily. The crowd got involved but I mostly noted them get louder at the comedy value of the token (lanky) honkey leaping to head clear or stooping to put a good headed chance over the bar from a corner.

And then I was 3 against 1 at the back. If you know where Jamie-Carragher-land is, then you will know where I was. As I backtracked the ball was passed in front of me from right to left and I had to use my (waning, possibly even long-forgotten) athleticism to scythe through the air to try to cut it out. I had lunged two footed, but in true Clagger style, leading with my right; the good foot. And I made contact. It was a miracle really. I was chuffed at my anticipation, reading of the flight, and reactions. For a stone cold hair's breath of a split second. For, as our goalkeeper was wrong footed, I had steered the ball passed him into the corner of the net.

Cheers from the home fans? No. Recriminations from the away fan or my teamates? No. Just infectious laughter. Cackling, bawling, screaming. The pitch was pretty high. The commentator was drowned out for a while before he joined in. The ref laughed at me. I turned and took a couple of bows to the crowd, smiling when I realised my teammates were not humiliated. The game restarted but the monstrous cackling didn't stop until we were 3-0 down and the crowd started to ebb away. In the second half I man marked their no.10, came close with a volley and we got a goal back. But I was already a legend in three villages. The village idiot. Long and white against the clouds of smoke from the noodle stalls. I would be recognised in the pitch black walking back after dropping off the scooter.

It was only later I realised that I had scored for my village team, Ban Ting Rai. Albeit while playing for the opposition!

Two nights later we went back to the field of dreams to see the local children's dance show. If only we had the photos of all those 4-9 year olds attempting choreography. We were in stitches. And the outfits were amazing. And there was some kareoke. And we found out that the Sun Smile boatman was called Mr. Dad. He invited us to sit on his family mat. Then we were joined by Sun Smile waitress, Mrs. Tuk. And it turned out they were married with two kids. They looked about 18. And that night, on the same field where I had embaressed the Queen only 48 hours earlier, all that was forgotten as we waited and then watched their gorgeous daughter dance in a wonderfully lacey fairy Princess dress. The girl next to her couldn't manage any of the moves and stared blankly at the PA for the whole 10 minutes, but the girl who calls Mr. Dad 'dad' knew every move. Especially the one where you hang your arms straight down and wiggle your hands behind you.

Finding Koh Jum

2009-01-21T01:59:00.001-08:00

We spent some quality time with a reference books (LP South East Asia and a second hand Thailand Rough Guide), as well as talking to some sensible people we met. Being new to Thailand we didn't know what to expect but we had narrowed our priority destinations down to a few islands - Ko Phayam (not far from Burma), Ko Chang (the Ko Chang next to Phayam), and Koh Jum (also known as Koh Pu, midway between Koh Lanta and Krabi). All three were not in the South East Asia book but all sounded quiet and devoid of package tourists, and with plenty of cheap accomodation, and lots of beach - maybe not spectacular beach but beach all the same.

We toyed with some sightseeing options but decided to head for Koh Jum as it appeared first on our horizon. We rejected the pricey tourist ferry option and headed to Trang for a night, where we enjoyed our first taste of a Thai town, before getting a morning bus on to Nea Klong, then a people carrying truck (the legendary songteaw) to the tiny sea gypsy stilted village of Laem Kruat; for the longtail boat ride 45 minutes across to Koh Jum town.

I already loved all the names of the Thai towns - I can roll Nea Klong around my tongue for hours - and we have also learnt to love the local transport. The longtails are small wooden boats that have enormous truck engines on the back with a very long pole-like shaft (maybe 3m long) that connects to a propeller - hence the long tail. They don't have keels and the long tail is levered in and out of the water in the shallows. At least they are wooden so should stay afloat. Whenever you are near the coast you can hear the throb of a longtail engine. On a day trip to Railay Bay the other day we were on the loudest longtail in the history of the world ever. We had to put our hands over our ears and I swear that is the boat you can hear wherever you are in the country!

By the way every place in Thailand has about 6 names: Nea Klong, Nua Klong, Nea Kong, Nuah Klong etc etc which makes any conversation about getting anywhere independently hilarious.

Koh Jum has 5 beaches stretched out on its Western shore over about 10km. We plumped for the middle beach, Ao Si, as we had read good things about Ao Si bungalows on the frankly brilliant and indespensible Tezza's Thai beach info blog. We had to take a mototaxi (think; beaten up small bike with sidecar made of wooden planks with a flat tyre and a metal cage that can squeeze in a family of 5) across the island, where we saw the tsunami village; 50 pre-fabricated homes that had been made by a relief organisation in the aftermath of the 2004 tsunami. It had been built in an area safe from future tsunami hazards, but was also a stark reminder that, even though miraculously no lives were lost on Jum, Boxing Day 2004 changed everyone in these parts.

We found Ao Si bungalows perched on the hillside at one end of quiet Ao Si beach. They were jungle style bamboo rooms on stilts, some of which had amazing views down the length of the island, and from the bar you could look out onto the Andaman sea. We struck up a deal for 12 nights with the Scottish manager, Phil, and settled in.

Then we took a walk down the beach.

Ao Si beach only had 3 'resorts'. When I first read about Thai resorts I thought concrete and swimming pools but it means just a collection of bungalows or huts or something similar, probably with a restaurant of some kind. We could see 'Jungle Hill', the other similar resort at the other end of the beach. We were walking to find a spot to swim in because of the rocks in front of Phil's place. Then, in the middle of the beach, we saw Sun Smile. There were 11 blue-roofed bungalows and just two guests from Holland. It was imediately apparent that this was the nicest stretch of beach and great for swimming with gently sloping sand well away from the handful of longtails that were actually parked in front of Phil's.

Then I saw the owner, a small but young oriental-looking gent, who showed me a front rower - a bungalow with an obstructed view of the sea through the coconut grove of 8 trees providing a bit of shade behind the beach before the 'resort'. And it was concrete, and had a great tiled bathroom, the bed was new, there were proper nets fitted to the windows, and he offered to undercut the 'sweaty'*. There were even useful furniture units. And parasols for the beach. And we would be giving money to a 'chao leh' family rather than to another gringo-owned hotel. I had had enough of dodging wildlife filtering through jungle-style construction back in Mexico. The thought of not having to use a mosquito net, of the amazing view, the lovely balcony - it was a no brainer.

But I had to go back to Phil and renege on our agreement. He actually kicked us out straight away with a smile and we gave him 200 baht (4 euros) for his trouble. Our room at Sun Smile would cost us 380 baht per night. Not the 250 we had hoped for on quiet Thai islands but we haven't found anything remotely comparable at the price before or since. As we left Phil's down the endless steps through the jungly hillside at dusk we realised what we would be missing. I had already left a crazy pink frog in the bathroom. Now, as we descended, fully laden, thousands of gigantic moths lifted off around us, clouding the path and echoing into the trees.

I woke up the next morning and jogged just after dawn on the beach - for the first time in my life. I was pretty scared when I made it to Phil's end but as I ran back past Sun Smile I saw a big cat running from the rocks at the other end. Only it wasn't. It was one of about 40 monkeys all running up the beach from a little circle of rocks back into the trees. I eased up and watched them squabble and play. Were they fishing? I have no idea. It turned out that two tribes of monkeys lived either side of Sun Smile and had frequent territorial squabbles. We would see plenty more of them - especially when they would try to steal thong-clad-Klaus' fruit!

That first full day we enjoyed the simple, basic but good enough food from the Sun Smile kitchen and we saw the arrival of a handful of new guests. This would become pretty much the only daily event. In the morning the tourist ferry would come from Koh Lanta, and in the afternoon from Krabi, and the Sun Smile boatman would go out to meet it and bring back a few new guests. Many would only manage a night as our island is just too quiet for some. A few would walk the few kms down the beach in search of more family-orientated digs, and a few would stay a few days.

None of them got bungalow 302 though. That night we discovered the stunning sunset view across 25km of Andaman see to Koh Phi Phi. Every night the sun would set over Phi Phi (Pi Pi or Pee Pee sometimes:)), the island famous for scenes from The Beach movie. Actually it is two islands, Phi Phi Don and Phi Phi Leh, the later being uninhabited and 'the beach'. Those of you who have an unhealthy memory will note that Anna and I met while The Beach (with Leonardo) played on the giant Stella screen on Brighton beach, and that our first date was at The Beach club (with my dad shaparoning!). We felt some kinda divine circularity looking out on the islands' silhouette. We joked that we could split up now we have come full circle - we're not by the way!

By the way, the 'chao leh' are the decendants of Chinese migrants; the sea gypsies of South East Asia. Our host, who we found out was called Mr. Ka, had a Chinese background. Mrs Kim, his wife, was from local island, Koh Yao Yai. They had two daughters but we would spend more time with Mr Ka's 'my son'.

*sweaty sock = Jock = Scottish bloke

On da boat

They don't all look like this. The sunset view I keep banging on about

Sun Smile bungalows

Beavering away on the balcony

Transportation & logistics

2009-01-21T01:46:00.000-08:00

On the course of our travels we have discovered two favoured modes of transport; camper van and scooter. I loved our people carrier convert in NZ but I saw what I really want - the Mitsibishi Delica! A lot of surfies have them raised up on all terrain tyres, they are great for 2 people, and I kinda like the name.

In Thailand Yamaha have introduced a new scooter model which is smashing the competition. It has the retro styling of an Italian classic (well, nearly) and all the easy-to-customise options imaginable. They are everywhere in Thailand. We are staying next to a Yamaha showroom and Anna (and I) are drooling when we walk out - I wander round town just looking at all the various colour and seat styles. Do they sell them in Europe? - I think we should be told.

The Delica - luxury

Latte Fino style

Getting carried away with Fino mods

Thailand

2009-01-20T07:06:00.000-08:00

We have now been in Thailand for most of the time since mid-December bar the three day visa run to Penang in Malaysia. I hate the phrase 'visa run' by the way. But I love the term 'Farang' for foreigner used here - nearly as much as I love 'Gringo'!

We are in Krabi now, have been briefly to Koh Muk and will be back on Koh Jum island in a few days (22.1) for 3-4 weeks. Internet access there is only sporadic 3 km away in the village though our phones work for texts and calls (though calls cost us).

More on Thailand next time but a quick thanks to Ake, Laura, Ville and Kirsi who let us invade their holiday for 4 days on Koh Muk. The island was lovely, their resort (Charlie's) was great (understated and great food) but they were the best - it was so lovely to see them!

Of visa woes

2009-01-19T23:33:00.001-08:00

On arrival in Thailand on December 13th we were greeted by signs at Satun port immigration that the King had decreed that foreigners on the visa waiver program, like us from Europe, entering Thailand by land or sea, would only receive permission to stay 15 days in the country. As we were intending to stay something like 87 we were a bit perturbed but none of our flashing of air tickets or protestations could sway the official. They changed the rules on November 28th, a week after we checked online from New Zealand.

Now it transpired we would have to get a Thai tourist visa. It costs but not much and is valid for 60 days but... you have to leave Thailand and go to a consulate or embassy to get it. We knew we were heading back to Malaysia. At least we had time. We soon started meeting people who had flown to KL or Singapore (even due to the ongoing changing of flights bound for Bangkok) and planned to spend three weeks in Thailand - only to have their holiday cut short by the new rules. The change is meant to discourage Farang (foreigners) living and working illegally in Thailand, who have just been popping to the border every thirty days. Now they pop an extra 200km every 60 days.

When we went to Penang in Malaysia just after xmas for the visa run there were hundreds more people waiting for visas and the first bus back to Thailand. The people living and working in Thailand illegally or quasi-legally were easy to spot. They were the 40-something caucasians freely talking about how they have done 3, 6, 12times. The mind boggled. everyone agreed the new law was nonsense and all the Thai guesthouse owners were deeply unamused that their mid and long-term guests were doing one early. The only people smiling were the visa agents in Penang - they've never had it so good. Luckily we had the time to do it and spent a nice few days sampling the food and window shopping in Penang's charming Little India.

Sing A Poor and a brief flirtation with Malaysia

2009-01-19T23:32:00.001-08:00

Apologies again for the lack of regular blogging. Intermittent access to quality Internet and a desire to avoid computers have been the main factors. And apologies too for the last rant. And any typos - my editor is on vacation. There will be more photos soon.

It is now deep into January and I can quickly recap our flirtation with Singapore and Malaysia (twice) that has lead us to our current location in southern Thailand.

Singapore was a revalation. From expecting a psuedo-Indian city I was shocked to find a concrete metropolis. It is impossible to escape the city's malls as each metro station feeds into another high rise air-conditioned monolith packed with shoppers, escalators and the tat of life. We loved the window shopping, and the air conditioning. And then we found the food halls. The food was awesome - varied, cheap and quality. There were always food courts in the malls but the best ones we found were dedicated, multi-storey fast food cathedrals. Like giant car parks but with every parking bay another kitchen, and with rudimentary seating in the driveways. And there was every type of food conceivable - of course Thai, Malay, Indian - endless prize winning noodles, curries, pancakes and then also American-style breakfasts, pastas and oddballs like Belgian chocolate waffles, dim sum and sushi - especially after our 'normal' diet in NZ and the limited choices we had in Latin America the food halls were a revelation - and so much cheaper and better value than anywhere else we had been.

We took plenty of MRT (Mass Rapid Transport) rides and saw some of the sights, like Raffles Hotel, and checked out Chinatown. When we had arrived there were accomodation problems but we found a Hotel 51 in Geylang. We were warned it was the red light district, and there were always plenty of weird and wonderful characters around, but it felt safe and there were loads of cheap eats around - even if they were renting some rooms by the hour.

We took the bus to Kuala Lumpur in Malaysia with the intention of working out which Malaysian island to head to. We already knew that it was monsoon on the East Coast and that the nicest sounding islands (the Perhentians) were closed. KL tourist info also advised us against going to Pulao Tioman in the south east because of the monsoon. We would regret not going there a few days later as we started to meet people who had just been - even though they had afternoon rain, the low season prices and great underwater action would have made our Malaysian experience more memorable - probably.

In KL we had a diet of window shopping and sightseeing, checking out the massive Petronas Towers (now the second highest building in the world, outside of New Zealand - probably) and we stayed in Chinatown in the friendly Wheeler's where our owner petted his cat, his partner did his nails and we enjoyed rooftop bar kniffle in the dark.

Then we went to Langkowi because we were assured it was paradise. It wasn't. If you were staying at one the few 5 star resorts that effectively had their own private beaches hidden in far corners of the island it probably was paradise. But if, like everyone else, you were crammed into the only budget and mid-range accomodatiom on the island on the narrow street behind Cenang beach - then it wasn't. The beach wasn't all that. The road was being dug up so walking anywhere was dicing with voracious trucks and scooters. The accomodation was overpriced. Many people were only there for the duty free booze which didn't even come cheap compared to the Thai border a few km away. It was a mess. We scootered around and found some nicer beaches but it was a nightmare for us. It was even worse for those backpackers who arrived too late and had to sleep on the beach or in the beach bars. Our room was a messed up staff room with a concreted bath - and we were lucky.

Malaysia had been a disappointment. Truly Asia? Had they employed a crack team of New Zealand copywriters?

I think that thanks to Peru, New Zealand and Malaysia in particular, I have learnt a great deal about the hard edge of tourism marketing. Can you imagine the look on my face when I read a letter the other day in the Bangkok post from a Thai gentleman, fresh from New Zealand, suggesting that what the Thai tourist industry needs is more leaflets?

Dear MEK (Finnish Tourist Board), are my new found passion for tourism marketing, my work history, your future challenges, and my future availability - just a coincidence?

Dogs look like their owners eh?

KL looks a bit like this

Little India in Georgetown

No - I want it to look like yours!

Singapore looks a bit like this

The other New Zealand

2009-01-19T23:31:00.000-08:00

I have something I have to get off my chest.

When we met 4 New Zealanders in Bolivia (well, 3 New Zealanders and one Frenchie living there who has had to field a lot of questions about the Rainbow Warrior) we were also with an English couple who had just spent 7 weeks there. Of course, it was a great opportunity for us to learn about the country, especially as Steven and Lisa had been in a camper van and developing tricks to go in a budget stylie.

We had plenty of time to talk and it soon became a running joke that our New Zealander friends were from 'the other New Zealand' because it seemed that the others had experienced totally different places and aspects of life and culture. This was mostly due to our friends being resident in Auckland, a city of 2.5 million, holding just under half of the country's human population, which is a long way, in many ways, from the South Island.

I found that there was another New Zealand. In fact I found dichotomies and dualities everywhere. The country is schizophrenic (correctly the country actually suffers from dissociative identity disorders), through my own thinly veiled diasthema# I found New Zealand to be hypocritical at best or downright deceitful at worst.

I should and will explain and anyone about to go on holiday there should take this with a pinch of salt - it is a truly amazing place after all - and everyone should get the chance to visit.

If I have discovered that Argentina is the country of the sandwich; that Mexico is the country for human indiginous diversity; that Easter Island is the place to head for er... stone heads; that Australia is the place for warning signs and really dangerous stuff (snakes, box jellyfish, sharks, drunk Australians); then I have learnt that New Zealand is the country of tourist information. In Latin America it was called Informaciones Turisticas or something and never really existed beyond a sign on a wall.

In New Zealand it means that there are signs everywhere, for everything. The 'true wilderness' is signposted throughout. Every turn in every trekking, tramping, hiking, walking, yomping and stomping trail is highlighted, usually with accompanying in depth detail about the flora and fauna which exist or no longer exist en route.

And there is a leaflet for everything. We had three compartments under our bed in the van. One was just for leaflets. The amount of tourist leaflets in the country of New Zealand is obscene. On South Island there is not much outside the few medium sized towns but the best, newest, shiniest buildings are the leaflet warehouses of the tourist information centres. There are definitely more info centres than towns on the south island and they all have the same leaflets - millions of them.

In my humble opinion New Zealand must be the most developed country for tourism in the world. Spain may have a coastline bursting with the development of tourist concrete, and countries such as Thailand and Peru may be totally dependent on tourism with many communities solely developing for tourists in different ways - but New Zealand is like the tourist barge in the Battlestar Galactica fleet. And I am talking South Island predominantly - North Island has a different character but much in common outside Auckland.

And that is why I am allowed this post. On one hand I love information. Being on a walk and having instant access to details I would never otherwise discover is very rewarding - and makes it feel like great value. The DoC (Department of Conservation in NZ) have done an incredible job to the envy of the rest of the world with their meticulous approach to their national parks. On the other hand the tourist literature in New Zealand is monstrously over-the-top, filled with ridiculous claims and is very adept at raising expectations to unreachable levels. IMHO New Zealand is full of contradictions and weaknesses. As a marketer and copywriter I think that the strategists many years ago set out to fix many 'issues' and in doing so, the claims that they make have left me disappointed, empty, a little betrayed - and determined to respond. Especially on South Island, tourism is so woven into every person and every building in every tiny hamlet, that a lot of personalities we came across (in shops, streets, cafes, parks, walks etc.) seemed to be extensions of this grand design - the locals and then also the tourists were singing from the same hymn sheet as the signs, leaflets, pamphlets and exhibits.

True wilderness - New Zealanders are rightly proud of their amazing scenery. However to constantly claim that national park X, trail Y, or area Z is true wilderness is fallacious. Granted, there are areas (where it rains 7m a year or there are 3500m plus mountains) where there are no people, no sheep and no paths but everywhere else is filled with marked trails, farming, people, reforestation projects and roads plied only by tourist camper vans. This is in stark contrast to say; deserts (Africa, Asia, America, Australia), or rainforest (particaularly Amazonian or Indonesian, where even the inhabited areas are often wilderness). The worst example of this was a ski resort that billed itself as 'the inbound backcountry'. When you have just been to Canada, and you can see from the roadside that the resort is tiny, you (well, I) want to get of the car and give someone a thrashing - or at least call advertising standards.

Heritage - like pretty much every nation on earth (except probably people at war who don't have time to think about it but are probably fighting for it) New Zealanders are proud of the past. Without veering into the indiginous debate (seperate point) there is lots of fascinating stuff about the pioneers and the incredible fortitude and ingenuity of the settlers. However, and this really pi**ed me off, every tiny 3 shack hamlet has a heritage trail, and most have a welcome sign proclaiming that you are now entering 'the historical town of x'. I had a big problem with this as I found New Zealand's towns and villages incredibly disappointing. To be cruel they were generally charmless and boring. Napier had its art deco, there were a few nice buildings, cafes and shops dotted around but by comparison I would say that all the towns on South Island put together had less charm than any random Cornish, Dorset or Sussex village - and most certainly vastly less heritage and history. One sign even referred to entering the 'historical heritage town of...'. Shakespeare said 'the lady doth protest too much.' We went to one museum proudly displaying a whopping 42 years of village history. OK it is all they've got, like the national radio show where a lady talked about her historical book on three generations of village life for two hours, but it is way beyond rational to hype these kind of claims.

Natural diversity - New Zealand has lots of amazing looking stuff, there is no doubt about that. The locals and the leaflets constantly give you the impression that the country has the most amazing diversity on the planet. Except it doesn't. Not in my opinion. Australia, and even California, even Bolivia are more diverse. In NZ they claim it so i am allowed a rebuttle. I am starting to think it is because people only go to NZ once so the hype-machine can get away with it. Yes, NZ has amazing Fiords, rainforest, coastline, mountains, geothermal areas and wildlife. Bolivia is definately more diverse (and you could make a similar claim for Argentina and many others). It has Amazonian rainforest and pampas at 100m, desert, 4km high salt plains, mountains, geothermal areas, lakes and looks and feels like being on the moon most of the time. California has pretty much everything except rainforest but instead has the world's tallest trees plus some of the world's most extreme human settlements (those cities are pretty diverse). What they don't point out at length in New Zealand is that, in the short period since European colonisation, they (or we if you prefer) have done a very good job at messing up the place.

Most of the species of whales are gone from the coasts, and there are very few penguins left. Probably my 'kul wadah' moment of realisation came when were in a penguin hide waiting to spot one of the six yellow eyed penguins that lived in the area. It turned out that we were in a conservation area that was a beach that had to be rescued from farming and had to be reforested in order to provide habit to save the birds from extinction. There are not many penguins left in New Zealand. We went to the see the famous New Zealand glaciers, cunningly billed as the 'largest most accessible glaciers close to a major road in the southern hemisphere' or something similar. We were gutted. Of course, we live in snow and ice of some of the year - a travelling companion of mine described them as looking a bit like a Finnish ski slope in spring. Unfortunately they were not the ice-cracking-into-the-sea wilderness experience of Patagonia (that we missed - this time). The were crawling with access roads, tour parties, walkers, climbers, fools taking photos under the crumbling face, and they were not very impressive. Despite the highly extravagant claims of the brochures.

The New Zealand farmland is undeniably beautiful - in fact I the rolling sheep-infested countryside aroud Christchurch was probably my favourite vista - but it hides that fact the country has been subject to ruthless deforestation, precipitating all the usual side effects - loss of habitats and extinctions, and soil erosion. There are Kiwis or course, and every glow worm hole is a tourist destination in itself but I keep coming back to compare Easter Island with NZ, especially as they were settled around the same time. Easter Island is known only for the heads and for the fact that it was completely raped by humans and farming practices pretty much much destroyed all the ecosystems on the land island and in the surrounding water. It took the Easter Islanders a thousand years to render their island barren. As far as I can see it has taken colonial practices only a few hundred years to destroy much of New Zealand's nature, even if the big stuff (mountains and er... mountains... has been left intact).

The experience of your lifetime - We have seen a flyer for a sheepshearing show billing it is the experience of your lifetime. I thought at first it must be ironic but the leaflet tried to justify it. You see pretty much everything about New Zealand is once-in-a-lifetime, unforgettable, one-of-a-kind... except that it isn't is it - it never is. On one hand the leaflets and even offical goverment signs go to amazing lengths to prove uniqueness. And, yes, you have noticed that this is the copywriting partof my brain talking. A waterfall is the 'tallest single tract fall in the southern hemisphere outside of the Americas and Asia' or it is 'the biggest rock on this coast south of Dunedin' or the 'biggest national park on the north of south island' or something. Unlike America. Where when they say it is the biggest roadside donut in the world you can be sure it is. Or the Nile, the Amazon, Mount Everest, or the biggest rat in the world from Bolivia. Or Malaysia, where they have their own book of records because they are nation obsessed with balancing coins on noses and cans on mopeds and fireworks on skyscrapers. You know it is true. But in New Zealand what is written on a sign or leaflet probably isn't true. New Zealanders surprisingly don't have much of chip on the shoulder about the Aussies but they are gutted they don't have the world's most dangerous snakes.

And I leant something. In NZ everything is an experience. Some readers will be catching some familiar tones here. I have learnt that refering to something as an experience is ultimately vacuous. A thing that is in need of description does not benefit from being termed an experience. It is a tautology in the making and only serves to convey a confused lack of substance, relevance and conviction.

The activities centre of the world - yes, NZ is a brilliant place to go if you want to jump out of plane, go canyon power boating, bungee jumping, rafting and canyoneering all on the same day. And in a way you kind of have to. Of course, part of me wishes that we had had unlimited funds and could have taken a sktdive or power boat ride. But that is because you knida have to. You see, I unfortunately think that New Zealand is such a very boring place that you need to have your adrenalin charged by something - hence the wonderful symbiosis that exists between the country, the tourists and the extreme activities. In truth all the activities can probably be done in your home country and most can probably done in most other major tourist destinations (in Dubai you can probably do them all indoors!). However NZ is a great location, particularly around Queensland, which has wonderful scenery and, of course, every bungee-tight-rope, hot air-bridge-swing, boat-bubble-ball combo you could imagine. I should mention that while everyone else was taking their gran bungee jumping in Queensland we went for a crafty cheeseboard. You should also be aware that you jump will not actually be the 'first', 'highest', 'longest', or 'narrowest' - those accolades would belong to some SoCal hippie or a Polynesian islander - and that it will not be the 'experience of a lifetime' - that will be the birth of your first child, probably, unless you have twins.

Nearly done but this wouldn't be complete without a quick slagging off for Auckland. We expected a cosier Sydney. We were gutted. Ponsonby was nearly charming but it really was disappointing. Before our trip we always thought of NZ as a distant possible future home. Not anymore. And what Auckland brought home was the huge solcial issue facing New Zealand - that of race and the integration of the indiginous population with the settlers. We have only briefly witnessed the struggles of indiginous people; in the USA, where it has been swept away on a barge crowned with a head-dress shaped casino; in Mexico, where myriad local tribes have kept ancient ways of living but autonomy is a still an armed struggle for some; In Australia, where the loss of nomidic lifestyles and social exclusion of Aboriginals manifests in alcohol problems evident on the strets of most towns; in Finland, where the Sami are OK but have lost their lifestyles and are losing their language as fast as they have lost their land. And New Zealand, which doesn't have much news, so the same news stays on for a week, but most news stories are of alcohol-related domestic abuse in the indiginous community. And where the lifestyles of the indiginous peoples have left them disinfranchised from the benefits of development and, in particular the education system.

New Zealand is relatively small however and its people do have a wonderful characteristic - similar to the Finns - issues seem to be debated openly and with a calm enthusiasm. My hope is that, particularly be investing in education, New Zealanders are able to develop ways to offer indiginous descendants options in a new future.

To sum up; I won't go again, and I would definately recommend Australia first; but everyone should go; but go with the will to get extreme and dirty; and don't believe anything you read - particularly not my opinions in this blog. I hope you find the other New Zealand!

PS Sorry to the lovely New Zealanders we have met. Nothing personal. I just had to get it off my chest.

#Diasthema = my gappy front teeth

Fiord of the rings

2008-11-22T17:52:00.002-08:00

The Fiordland region of South Island New Zealand is deservedly regarded as one of the Earth's natural wonders. It is true wilderness. It is very, very, very wet. And it is spectacular. While even monsoon bound tropical regions might receive 2-3 metres of rain a year, parts of Scotland might get 4m, southern England gets just 75cm - Fiodland gets a whopping 7m of rain a year. It rains pretty much every day, especially in winter and spring - and it is big rain. While this is not good for your tan it is particularly handy if you have stunning glacially eroded Fjord-like cliffs plunging vertically into the ocean - and you like to see them plastered with awesome cascades.

Milford Sound is the most popular Fiord but we were there just before peak. With more spending power we would have considered a kayak trip or a trip to more remote Doubtful Sound but we were chuffed when our 99 capacity boat only had 11 passengers. Plied with free coffee we set out into the mist as Mitre Peak towered over us and waterfall after waterfall avalanched around us. We didn't even see it at its most spectacular - even more rain would have turned on the Cathedral group of falls, but it was jawdropping. We saw more penguins and seals and then we put on big sailors' coats and went to get close to one of the falls as the captain and commentator edged us nearer. Then one of the hands needed help with a tray of glasses. I took the tray and then it was too late. I had unwittingly fallen into a highly dampening game of cat and mouse. As the ship (for it was bigger than a boat) was adjusted with its prow under the falls, I had to side step under the rain of water in order to fill up the twenty glasses in the plastic tray I was holding. And there was a lot of water. And I got very wet as I disorientatedly shuffled back and forth. But they were filled. We laughed and we drank Fiord-rock-permeated-fresh-New-Zealand rainwater.

The road to Milford Sound, cunningly named the Milford Road, is pretty unforgiving. There are no petrol stations for 300km, plenty of passes, high alpine scenery, the long and treacherous Homer Tunnel and Gunns Camp. Just off the main road we stayed at the most wonderful caravan park. Passed down through the Gunn family from one of the area's original pioneers, the place was a marvel, packed with frontier trinkets and history and lavished with the most awful visual gags and puns around the grounds. The washing lines of burnt toast being readied to become clocks were a personal highlight.

Key Summit

Just a hint of Gunns Camp

The monstrous Milford Sound

Faffing under waterfalls

200-1500m waterfalls all around

Sheep country

2008-11-22T17:52:00.001-08:00

We had one month in New Zealand, during which we were accompanied by our trusty steed, Fiddy. We flew into Christchurch on South Island via Auckland and went to the camper depot with fear and trepidation filling our hearts. We had signed up for a Wicked Camper you see. They are the cheapest, known for their rough and ready no-frills approach, but also known for the graffiti that adorns their vehicles. Most of it is amateurish, garish and vulgur. Some of it is downright offensive. We had already come across some examples online and we knew that some Australian caravan parks had banned Wicked vans. Its all publicity though I guess. At the depot we saw someone drive off with Cream (with the band emblazoned on the side) and then, after they tried to stiff us with a cheaper model we got Fiddy. He got his moniker as he has "750 Rebels" tagged down both sides. It turns out that 750 Rebels are an little known Australian stoner rap crew. Wicked also don't charge for scratches and dents. And it was very clean inside. The only irk was that on the back in childish spray graffiti was written "can you breathe through your ears?". It was just stupid. But we loved Fiddy from the off. It was automatic. It was a Toyota people carrier, converted to have a wooden bed base in the back, split into three; two compartments for storage and the middle one lifted out to form a table. Foam mattresses, duvets and sheets were included. In the back was a tiny sink unit, for connection to water bottle, a big camping gaz burner, a cool box and basic cooking and eating gear, with enough spare room to store all the goodies we would soon be buying from our favourite place in NZ: Pack'n'Save.

Fiddy had a weakness. Unlike real campers (sorry Fiddy) it only had the normal car battery, which had already been run down a few times. At first we didn't realise how weak it was. By the end of the month we had needed a jump start 4 times (thank heavens they provided jump leads) but we had also jump started 2 other campers. I had a habit of leaving the lights on but also the radio or any night lights were a menace when with the engine off.

Our itineray followed a figure of eight around South Island for 18 days and then an 's' up through North Island. We started with Christchurch town; Akoroa and a boat trip to see tiny blue penguins and tiny Hector's dolphins; stunning Alpine scenery at Mount Cook; more yellow penguin spotting on the coast; vintage Dunedin; stunning waterfalls and beaches of the Catlins area in the south of South Island; Milford and fiordland (next post); lovely, desirable but exclusive Queenstown; the glaciers (Fox and Franz Josef); surf vibe on the west coast; gorgeous tropical beaches of Abel Tasman national park; and the ferry view of the Cook Straight as we crossed over to the North.

From Wellington we headed north-east and saw the neo-deco of touristy Napier; surfside Gisbourne; the geothermal mecca of Rotorua; glorious lakeside Taupo; big metropolis Auckland; the start of famous 90 mile beach; and the quite gorgeous Bay of Islands are north of Auckland.

Every other night we would find a free park camp area or park in a tranquil or idyllic layby. The other nights we would check into a fantastic caravan park with kitchen gear, hot showers and often Internet and movies. On South Island we found Dusty's Caravan park in the quiet surf town of Colac Bay. Dusty had a pub, a campsite and farm animals you could feed. A terrific combination.

We had fish'n'chips once, and, apart from that, we always ate in or around Fiddy. We ate mostly as we do at home. It was great to eat loads of pasta, fried breakfasts, muesli, yogurt and cheese. Cheese, cheese, cheese. We ate over 6 kilos of cheese in a month - and that's not including some that might have been hiding in food already. And we had our fair share of beer, wine and, of course, Kniffel. You see, after my failed gambling debacle (back to Nicaragua) I had become invincible at Backgammon so we set about the Kniffel. Once we had dined, the ambient torch was on, the last of the wine was poured, the biscuits were opened, we would break out the dice and worship the gods of Kniffel. It is Yatzy, the 5 dice game, but played with German names, so you get to speak 'like zis yah' and we have played it religiously ever since NZ. Though we had already started in Columbia experimenting with soft Kniffling, we were now onto the hard stuff. We found Yatzy paper in some no name town in NZ (thuogh of course we crossed out all the Yatzy words and wrote their German names instead - on every page!) and we played 2-3 three line games every night. It kept our mathematical minds alert (we will never be shortchanged again) and helped to pass the time as we listened the sound of the lake, breeze, wildlife or a-road nearby.

Fiddy had good legroom once the table was down and the foam mattresses were in place for bed. And out on the road it performed well. Though fuel economy was dismal in spite of my tinkering with the overdrive control and experiements with freewheeling. We covered over 5000km in a month that was filled with the most awesome scenery. You could never tire of the gorgeous farmland, alpine rising, swathes of beach, tropical forest, waterfalls (spring rain had them pumping everywhere) and the sheep. There are a lot less of them than there used to be - down from 135 million to 40 million or something - and all the best lamb is exported - but they are everywhere - and we loved them. When we get caught in a sheep jam we would happily watch them flitting past us in hazy delight. Often the farmer would race up on his quad bike and remind us to move on and stop oggling his flock. In Kaikora we wook a long walk around the spectacular rocky penninsular and decided to check the sheep show at the end. We expected the coach party to arrive any minute but instead we were sat down on the porch, given tea, and then given a private show featuring wool, shearing, rams, sheep and lambs, which we got to feed, which was nice.

And we took a lot of walks. We walked up dormant ski resorts, mountainous ravines, waterfalls, nature walks, swamp walks, coastal walks - always stunning scenery - most of it jawdropping. I couldn't tire of the driving through endless fields, flanked by huge towering immaculate bushes, with lakeland and snow-crested mountains rising in the distance.

And on North Island we were not disappointed by geothermal Rotorua. We took the plunge in the mud spa (a long held fantasy for me fulfilled), saw geysers, boiling mud pools, mud volcanoes, all kinds of bubbling muddy things all over the place - and we found Kerosene Creek. Off the beaten track and famous as a car crime spot. We wandered up the path and found a hot stream, with mini hot waterfalls, no one around and indescribable magic.

Kaikora private sheep show

Colac Bay farm (and pub)

Fiddy enjoying the Catlins view

Arthur's Pass

Turning heads on Easter Island

2008-11-22T17:51:00.004-08:00

Easter Island is also known as Isla de Pascua. That's Spanish. Now your Easter Island was on of the last places to be colonised by humans, along with New Zealand, back in 4-500 AD. It is under Chilean control but the island is definately more Polynesian than Latin American, and there is a typically relaxed independence movement. The island is only 25-35km in diameter. All the natural resources have been raped by years of unsustainable farming of the land and sea, and by thr removal of the forest. And the indiginous wildlife has pretty much been wiped out by humans and/or introduced species. But there is a beach. And there are big stone busts. Big, big stone busts. Yes, those ones you have seen on TV. They are everywhere.

It turns out that the big eared and the little eared tribes started fighting at about the same time that the belief system altered to focus around a strange birdman cult. But it is generally agreed that the statues were erected by families to display wealth and to curry favour. In reality all the statues were knocked down during the fighting (17-18 centuries if I remember rightly) but some enterprising locals and some Japanese sponsorship has seen many re-erected in the last 50 years - in their original locations, on original plynths, and to spectacular effect.

There are statue sights all over the island and we had a scooter for three days and set out to see pretty much all of them. The island had one good road but most it was interconnected dirt tracks. We had ill fitting helmets, plenty of sunblock under the scorching blue sky, and we burned up the island - it was my scooter-piloting coming of age.

The views, statues, burial grounds, cliffs, volcano cones, tumbling Pacific ocean, warm locals, cheap prices and Polynesian-Latin mis made it a very special place. And then we found the crater lakes. Inland there was the volcanic crater lake at the site of the mining of most of the statues. The heads had been carved out of the rock and then transported downhill from here to the resting places (always on the coast facing inland). The 'mine' looked like it had been abandoned mid-shift as there are hundreds of Moai (that's the correct name for the heads) scattered all around in various stages of erection, including a 21m giant.

Ranu Kau, the other crater lake, is one of the most cosmic places I have ever witnessed. It is right by the sea, so there are spectacular paths up to the rim, and on the seaward side there are a series of temples and platforms (called Orongo) precariously perched with high cliffs down to the Pacific on one side and the steep slope into the moonscape of the extinct volcano and its microclimate that has resulted in unusual algal growths across its 1 mile diamater.

Wild horses on the beach

Anna didn't take the wheel but wants a scooter now

The side of the mine. These guys were on their way somewhere

Typical island view

Santiago de Chile

2008-11-22T17:51:00.003-08:00

The border crossing high up in the Andes en route from Mendoza to Santiago was spectacular. There was still snow on the ground and lining the high peaks rising up all around to over 6000m. There were winding roads, the jaw dropping route of the old railway, ski lifts perched around the scree slopes of the border crossing. Generally stunning, remote and desolate mountain scenery all around.

On arrival in Santiago we suffered our biggest burn of the entire trip. We had read about dodgy taxis in Santiago but thought little of it as it is such a modern feeling city. Not only did our driver try to palm the 10,000 note I'd given him to replace it with a 1000 - but he also had a meter that ran like a fruit machine on Red Bull. As I was too busy berating him for trying to be so sly with the palm (the Chileans have cunningly made the 10 and 1 thousand notes identical colours) I hadn't twigged that the 6,000 on the meter was outrageous. We realised afterwards that he also dropped us in a garage opposite the hotel, presumably so that we wouldn't have the opportunity to get a second opinion about the metered fare. And I was so nice to him. What an thoroughly unpleasant chappie he turned out to be.

I should opint out that we only stayed one night in Santiago before going to Isla De Pascua but then we came back for a few more so I will slip those in here:

On our return to Santiago we junked Barrio De Brasil for Paris/Londres and found a huge room filled with lovely antique wooden furniture in a very attractive area. And we set to exploring different districts in Santiago. We got lost on the cable car ride, found the arts and design area, did some shops and museums and then hit the zona rosa. And we decided that for our last night we should treat ourselves to a slap-up meal. We chanced upon a seafood restaurant and were able to indulge in ceviche - our favourite dish that we had originally experienced when we had 'arrived' in Latin America in San Blas in Mexico back in May. This time we had a huge plate of salmon, prawns and white fish cooked in lime juice, weashed down with some local white. It was fantastic. We can't wait to try the lime trick with the salmon back home.

Santiago looks a bit like this

The valleys around Maipu

2008-11-22T17:51:00.001-08:00

Another night bus brought us to the highly regarded city of Mendoza, in the foothills of the Andes, and famous for being the centre of the Argentinian wine industry. We found cheap digs in the centre and set out to explore the city, including Villanueva, the nightlife area. Mendoza had been hyped to us and we were a bit disappointed in the city itself, Although there were some nice plazas it lacked any of the charm of Barriloche and also Villanueva seemed to be packed with gringo superhostels and fairly uninviting superpubs, also not comparing well with less regarded cities like Salta.

But Mendoza has gorgeous surroundings including the wine valleys around Maipu. It was my birthday and we hired bicycles and set off on a wine tasting tour, closely followed by Staffan and Hans, the Swedish intellectuals. They were soon racing ahead however as we had to return to base following a chain malfunction. Bloodied with oil my bike creaked back into town to be replaced and then, in all the excitement, I muffed the map reading and we missed the first wine tasting. Meanwhile, the Swedes had got lost and also missed the first stop so we went together for the rest of the day on an odyssey of wine, cheese, sun and closed museums. Really, we had hardly tasted any wine as our winery hosts had seemingly failed to grasp the contextual link between sampling and purchase. Thankfully the day was saved when we arrived at the small boutique family winery, Carmelo Patti, as the sun began to set. Our bike rental told us it was a bonus birthday treat – and it was. We had a charming host, awesome wine and witnessed the world's largest guestbook. The wine was a but much for our wallets but Hans saved our faces by stocking up and we invited them to join us for dinner.

We did have an ulterior motive in truth as we had spotted that the free birthday diner in the all-you-can-eat needed to be accompanied by three paying guests. The Swedes and Anna fitted the bill and we gorged in food Disneyland. When we first arrived it transpired that we had a very proactive waiter who immediately plopped a huge sample leg of succulent beef on Anna's empty plate just be way of a taster. I was in heaven.

A wine tasting sans mucho vino

Hold it in

The Lake District

2008-11-22T16:58:00.000-08:00

It was about time we had another night bus after two plane rides in Argentina so we went on the long trip across Argentina from Trelew, via the lake district hippy town of El Bolson, to Barriloche, famous as one of the great South American ski centres.

It was a charming town with a village atmosphere, and glorious lake and mountain views. But we did have trouble finding a room until a quick sprint around town landed us a room in a granny's lovely guesthouse. We took a chair life ride on a very windy day for more stunning views and rued our timing. The area had loads in common with Lake Tahoe and would be great to visit at the height of a snowy ski season. We had other priorities this time and again we were lucky to be basking in warming spring sunshine.

It actually happened in Peru but these bus journeys reminded me of the one bus journey where the conductor started a game of bingo on the upper deck. With the Spanish language instructions there was a bit of chat between the gringos as to the rules but one of the gringos didn't catch on. After about 10 numbers Anna let out the enthusiastic and accent-neutral cry of "bingo!" only to be deflated by looks of disbelief and the realisation that the house and not just a line was required. To preserve the equilibrium of the universe I should also mention something else that was forgotten in the Columbia blog; when we were walking the Corcora Valley track we often walked in the fields adjacent to the very muddy paths. This meant negotiating some fencing. There was one particular fence that I did not vault precisely that gave me a rather nasty 60 volts to the inner thigh!

Barriloche and a glimpse of the lakes

Penguin news

2008-11-22T16:22:00.000-08:00

We thought all penguins huddled together on icy rocks in the Antarctic but Patagonia had other ideas. We got a flight from Buenos Aires to Comodoro Rivadavia, the closest place to the Valdez Penninsular that we could get a 'free' flight to. It saved us a 24 hour bus ride from BA but we did have to take a 5 hour bus to get to the gateway town of Trelew. Sounds a bit Welsh? It transpires that Northern Patagonia was settled by the Welsh and many towns and landmarks retain their Welsh names and there is a fair bit of Welsh heritage around. Our objective was to see thhe penguins and Punta Tombo and the whales at Valdez and we calculated that we would save money by hiring a car rather than paying for tours to both places. Of course it was siesta but we located the ebullient and diminutive Eduardo, thanks to the local tourist info, and promptly hired a cheap motor - which turned out to be a little more thanks to the milage limit and the 'cleaning fee'. But we were off, heading for the penguins and by tusk we were face to face with 175000 breeding pairs of Magellenic penguins. Or more like shin to face - they are little fellas and it was nesting season. And they burrow. They burrow like what bunnies are supposed to be. This was a big shock. In the scrubland and bush behind the beach the land was pitted and pock-marked with thousands and thousands of penguin nest-holes. And we walked amongst the penguins - some of the tracks had pengy bridges where there was a main thoroughfare for the little minstrels, and often the paths were blocked by their dallying as the wandered in search of the correct nest. IIt was understandable - they all do look pretty much a alike. And there were thousnads and thousands of them stretching off into the distance - but they didn't huddle. They waddled, lazed, lay, preened and squawked. And by sundown we were back in Trelew in some very shifty accomodation.

In the morning we drove up through Puerto Madryn and again visited the tourist info. These Patagonian info stops sealed our wonderfully symbiotic relationships with tourist offices in Argentina and beyond. We are no longer afraid of bum steers and mis-info. In New Zealand most villages on the map are just a tourist office and a farm so we kinda have to visit for any sign of (non-sheep) life. But we are not too proud. In fact we rather like window shopping in info point tourist tat meccas.

Anyway, we found out that we should drive to El Doradillo beach, just past the town but before the pricey (and off-road) entry into the Penninsula proper. The area is a major breeding ground for the Southern Right Whale and we were to have a close encounter. As we drove Anna was already spotting dozens of whales out to sea. Sometimes it is easy to confuse the spray from offshore reefs for the gentle giants but here we could stop on a headland and follow the arched backs, tailfins and blow spray from whales in all directions near the headlands and off to the horizon.

On our previous whale watching trips (in Vancouver; Killer Whales, and Puerto Lopez, Ecuador; Humpback Whales) we have been in boats and usually 150-200m at least away from the animals. We parked up at El Doradillo and started walking on the rocky beach. In the distance we noticed some people gathering at one spot so we picked up the pace. Then we looked out to sea. About 25m away there were three sea lions looking at us and following us along the beach. They were playing but also heading in the same direction up the beach in a hurry. When we got closer we could see a big (12-13m) whale just off-shore, only maybe 40m from where we and the other 10 or so viewers were standing.

Mum was barnacle encrusted and lazily wallowing in the shallows. The sea lions arrived and we noticed that mum was accompanied by a 6-7m calf gently nuzzling in and out of the water. We watched as the sea lions and the calf danced around each other, gyrating and breaching, right in front of us. They never got bored and we watched transfixed. It was a real privilage and very different to our experience in Baja Califorinia, Mexico where we were out of season and missed the whale extravaganza - and also in stark contrast to New Zealand where the Southern Right whales have been hunted to the point where there are only a few hundred left and are very rarely sighted near land. On this same topic we have since seen three more species of penguin in New Zealand but all in tiny numbers (there are only a few thousand left of a couple of the species) and those are only able to be seen because their habitats have recently been reintroduced by special reserves having all been destroyed by farming.

We only saw the tip of Patagonia, with the rest having to wait until next time. In our brief glimpse we saw what true wilderness it is, with its vastness, unspoilt and windblown land, and teeming ocean. The lesson - if you want whale watching go in season. We knew we would be in for a feast at Valdez - some people on the far end of the headland were seeing Killer Whales attacking sea lions in the surf whil we were at El Doradillo - and the places, like Vancouver, with small groups of resident whales pale by comparison, even if they do use 'western' techniques to market nature watching very well.

Behind you!

Some penguins

About the stats

2008-11-22T15:21:00.000-08:00

We have has a lot of requests asking what the stats are really about. Well, we haven't but wanted to tell you straight anyway. Countries are big things with land, people, animals and different kinds of fruit sandwiches in every one; the driving includes what we have done in California, Patagonia and New Zealand - at some point it will be accurate as we have a captain's log; strangers befriended are the people we would like to think of as more that just ships passing in the night - those 46-or-whatever are the ones we know the names of, have stayed in touch with and/or aim to see again - we have met a few hundred people whose names and/or Amazing Race names we have logged but they can't really count as all having been befriended; we really have been counting the bus rides - the longest was 23 hours from Tepic to Acapulco a tyre change - and we have been on over 20 night buses all pretty painlessly... many of the bus journeys have been reallly spectacular - Colca Canyon with a 2000m sheer drop by the roadside and the Lake Titicaca dawn ride in Bolivia stand out - the worst journey was probably getting stuck near Medellin in Columbia because of landslides.

That reminds me. In the Bolivia post I hope the pictures give some idea of how amazing the scenery was. It is a fairly unforgiving place, the least developed country, the hardest to get around, but is also the most diverse and most spectacular IMHO when it comes to natural wonders that we have seen (and I am including NZ, where I write this).

FunkiDeli Vs FunkyDelhi beef

2008-11-15T15:05:00.000-08:00

I, uberlord of FunkiDelia, would like to make a statement to the effect that we (FunkiDeli Inc.) have nothing to do with the imposters who have taken the www.funkideli.com URL for their Funky Delhi festival. This could cause some confusion to my regular readers, particularly those in the UK, who may have come across the new Funky Delhi festival. I find it quite bizarre and coincidental that someone should use Funky Delhi a year after I put up the FunkiDeli - but then the dot.fi suffix is maybe not the first one you would check. When I tried to get Funkideli.com it had gone so maybe these guys were planning their site at the same time that I made mine.

Beyond the name shenangians I should point out that these guys seem pretty cool. In fact, we rather like it that their mission is after our own hearts, as they say:

"Our purpose is to spread diversified cultural expressions, joining together new talent with old and uniting together into one tribe. Magical lighting creates transdimentional visual experiences both inside and outside our mystical saddlespan. Poetic inspirations fused with acoustics by day….. mythology and full on parties by night!"

I couldn't have put it better myself. I should consult with them really though because I know that the best way to avoid transcendental saddlesore is to ensure that the transmogrification* of the rainbow bridge takes place under water. I would also junk the old talent in favour of greater focus on my own mythocrisy - but that's just me and my insular world!

*Transmogrication is the art of turning musical energy into space flight energy as devised and perfected by Sun Ra.

El Classico

2008-10-21T13:35:00.001-07:00

From the book we realised we had a toss up between Palermo (hip, trendy, big hostels, newer) and San Telmo (older, antique, guest houses) to stay in around Buenos Aires. We plumped for the later and found a sweet and cheap place next to San Telmo's square called Hotel Carly. It had high ceilings, an owner who prompty delivered us black market tickets for the weekends "El Classico" football match between Boca and River, and was on the doorstep of San Telmo's thriving eccentric bar and live music scene - with the antique's market in the square over the road, tango in the streets, music everywhere, endless corner cafes and endless charm - we were chuffed.

We had a bonza five days in BA. We saw musical-style tango at Tortoni's, the old cafe venue, we ate huge meat (well one of us did), drank wine, went to the football, found the Palermo Saturday market (where dozens of bars were filled with student designer clothing stalls), wandered the streets, saw the sights... and, yes, Anna saw her second ever footy match (excluding the mighty Pallo).

We decided to get the bus to the Saturday afternoon game. We got on to find a few quite loutish Boca fans on the bus, who were already missing teeth but enjoying beer. Some young couples in River jereys got on and the Boca fans started to sing and it was fun. Then the bus driver didn't pull over to pick up 25 River fans - we thought that was a good move but then at the next stop he pulled over to pick up about 30 very roudy Boca fans. They were mental. They rushed to the back of the bus, stripped the shirts oif the three River fans who were wearing the white with red sash (think Crystal Palace) and gave them a good beating as they tried to get off the bus. We then piled out with the rest of the passengers. I was keeping very quiet in case my native tongue casued offence and we avoided a beating, even though Anna got sat on during the melee. After a cab ride we got into the 60000 capacity stadium without fuss, watched the reserve match, and then enjoyed the awesome ticker tape parade to start the game, with huge multi-coloured streamers unfurled across the stands all around us. We were in the home end on teh lower tier under the away fans. But the game is such a potential flashpoint that only about 300 Boca fans were allowed in the stadium. The game was awful. River are terrible at the moment and Boca won through a cheap free kick with Juan Roman Riquelme being the only class player on the pitch. He proved it throughout the second half by constantly diving. the reserves looked like world beaters by comparison.

What else in BA? Well we eventually got in touch with Clare and Jorge and found out they live in San Telmo. We had already drubk in their local and we met them over wine and cheese. And, in the squares of BA, we found that memories of the Falklands War are very much alive and there are ongoing protests about the treatment of those that fought and suffered. The city was really enthralling. The steak sandwiches were filling. And our walking legs were willing.

BA looks a lot like this

San Telmo market square tat

Tango for cash at Tortoni

El Classico, definitely the worst quality top flight football game I have ever seen, even worse than Kups vs HIFK

Another slight change of plan

2008-10-21T13:34:00.002-07:00

From Villazon we had a taxi combo across the border to Quiaca, during which we suffered our biggest disaster yet; I misplaced my green Tiger jacket top somewhere, possibly in the train station or in the taxi. I was distraught but have since bought a Puma replacement. There are no Tigers in South America you see.

We got a bus to Salta, marked by some hoorrid treatment at the hands of the bus people. After 150 buses we think we know the score and we were expecting Argentina to be maybe a bit more civilised than some others when it came to the buses. Well, the buses are certainly pricier (2-4 USD per hour opposed to 50 cents an hour in most other Latin countries) and yes, you can pay extra and go first class and get steak and wine (though we never saw it - it is a bit a myth - only if you pay through the nose) but we were not expecting the conductors to do nothing - all the tickets are prepaid and their are liggers at the bus stations who get out the bags and ask for tips while the conductors stand about... but at Salta we booked on a bus that was about to leave and Anna ran to get some food and drinks as thhey told me there wasn't a food stop. So we load the bags, I wait at the door and the conductor starts to get shirty. Then they try to close the door with me in it - and this is a proper big two storey luxury coach we are talking here. I have already explained she is just buying a drink - and then they start driving with me standing in the door well. Then the manager comes out and gets shirty (having just sold us the tickets) and they start driving away with our luggage before Anna comes in the nick of time. The company is Andesmar, they have the prettiest offices but they are bunch of tie-wearing used car sales-types, the food was terrible, the driver couldn't park the bus in the first bus station bay, and the bus was two hours late, and of course it made a long lunch stop - ar**holes. We had to get Andesmar a second time and they bodged the veggie food for Miss Deli - this lot deserve to be punished. I am so glad I got that off my chest.

Anyway, we arrived at Salta, which was quite a charming small city with a cool zona viva (music and bars area) and we spent most of our day there in the LAN airline office. We realised that we might be doing the wrong thing in planning to go to Melbourne to work for 6 weeks in order to fund that time plus a week in New Caledonia and two weeks in Perth. The combination of my ineligibility for the working holiday visa, our mutual dislike of work, the cost of living in Melbourne, horror stories about backpackers staying hostels for months,not having organised any free (houseswap, housesit or similar) accommodation - and the risk - the risk that we could work two jobs and still not make enough to cover the 9 weeks - and the potential - the potential to turn our month in SE Asia (veritibly rushing from Singapore to Bangkok) into a three month plus chill fest... well, it was big carrot to dangle, particularly as we had not really put down any roots. Since Whistler we had not had longer than 6 nights (Little Corn in the rain) in one place and we had not had that zen escape that we look for - especially on a trip this long.

So we tried to change our flights. They couldn't do it in Salta. They couldn't do it in Lan Cordoba. But at American Airlines in Cordoba we struck a rich vein. After a brief scare when it appeared that Lan had not rebooked our Easter Island flights as they had said, and finding out we were double booked by Finnair to New Caledonia, we got the new flights we wanted and then we got more, a lot more. Just as I was about to ask for the bill, which should have been 125USD each for a Oneworld ticket route change, a lovely AA representative handed us 520USD flight vouchers each. Over 500 bucks of free flights each - T-riffic. We had already changed our flights to fly on 6.12 from Auckland via Sydney to Singapore, and also to fly on 6.11 from Santiago via Auckland to Christchurch on NZ's southern island to get cheaper van hire and avoid backtracking. As a bonus also didn't include the Caracas-Lima flight we had not taken so we had a spare flight and decided to save time and money by flying from Cordoba to BA. When they gave us the flight vouchers we realised we could also save a 23 hour bus ride by flying from BA to Comadoro Rivadavia, the nearest airport to the penguins and whales in northern Patagonia. This was a tough decision because we could also bought return flights from to see the waterfalls at Iguazu - and we could have also got flights all the way to southern Patagonia to see the Glaciers national park. We reasoned we will see glaciers in NZ and Iguazu will have to wait until we come to Brazil - and moreover we wanted to see 350000 penguins.

So, happy, we got the bus to bustling Cordoba where found Tinajas, Argentina's largest all you can esat restaurant. The country is famous for its beef and steak but I will remember Argentina for the amazing steak sandwiches that we were regularly served in bars and cafes - I could never resist a "completo" normally arriving with lashings of salad, mayo, fried eggs and a pair of minute steaks a top a couple of large slices of bread. Unfortunately it was also impossible to escape the curse of white bread in Argentina. But back to Tinajas: food disneyland. For 10 USD so about 5... 6... 7... 8 pounds (little currency joke there for the sterling crash fans) you had access to high quality cruise ship style fare including an enormous meat grill counter as big as a house. This place had capacity for over a thousand. We were there three hours from the start and it was awesome. We would go back.

Bright side of the moon

2008-10-21T13:34:00.001-07:00

We arrived in La Paz in the morning and, true to form, we outlandishly got on a bus straight to Oruro where we had the afternoon watching McDreamy from Grey's Anatomy's dodgy movie (in an ornate cinema on our own), before getting the night train to Uyuni. The train journey was filled with spectacular views of the Altiplano, wild rock formations and herds of alpaca. In Uyuni we repeated the tour agency runaround. Uyuni is a desert town of a few thousand that only seemingly exists to service the needs of young travellers going on multi day jeep rides to see the famous salt flats and the Atacama desert. That's why we were there and we learnt the lessons from our young drunken guide and paid 25% extra to go with Red Planet with their fluent English guide Oskar, who had rave reviews. Again all the tours are pretty much the same: three days, two night, all the tours stay in the same salt hotels, some tours have a driver/cook/guide, some an extra guide, some an extra cook: and all are in Toyota Land Cruisers with 6 tourists.

We had Michi and Franzesca from Switzerland, and Sanna and Teresa from Sweden. And, in Oskar, we had a real gem. Within two hours of setting out into the desert, driving at high speed across the broken rocks, Oskar told us about the recent death of 15 people when two jeeps had collided and how drivers were more careful now (!) and then we broke down. In the middle of a salty desert. With the most amazing infinite view all around, some peaks in the distance. But thankfully with no misunderstandings as Oskar made us at home. We relaxed, talked, took photos, enjoyed it like another sightseeing stop and realised that driving thousands of kms in the desert brings with it certain risks and the likelihood of mechanical malfunction.

We only stopped for an hour and by the end of the tour we had seen the salt flats, salt factory, salt piles, palm oases, rock dunes, "Dali Desert" of rock formations, the Atacama desert, and the incredible site of the tyre tracks of the jeeps looking like cosmic ploughing across the rocky landscape (I think they should stick to tracks as the wind will take centuries to blow away the tyre tracks, which are everywhere). And we saw the money shots. The red lake and the flamingos, the green lake and Oskar took us to stone cemetaries and more wonderful formations, and he was riveting throughout. We learnt more Spanish and more Bolivian history and even more about Bolivian current affairs - we had warned him we were going to get our money's worth!

Just before our visit Bolivia had had some civil unrest whereby the President, Evo Morales, a social reformer and former farmer, was trying to get a new constitution passed, which would have required a great deal of wealth redistribution, something not enamoured by the wealthy of the Santa Cruz region, in control of the country's mineral and gas resources. A stand off had developed where a militia army of farmers and peasants had blockaded Santa Cruz and shots had been fired. The whole state and some other areas had been off limits to tourists for a few weeks and the situation had not cleared though it had cooled. This meant that we couldn't go to see the big cat sanctuary in Santa Cruz as we had hoped. So, after returing in the evening to Uyuni, we shared a room with the swedes (very kind of them) and we got a few hours kip before the night train to the town of Villazon on the Argentinian border.

We had to stop for a quick bite in the desert

The red Lake Colorado with flamingos

Hot springs at dawn

Another stunning sight in the Atacama desert

Alligator, alligator, alligator

2008-10-21T13:33:00.000-07:00

From Copacobana we got up before dawn, the bus was cancelled, so we took a shared taxi to a ferry crossing and then the fastest local 'collectivo' minibus in the universe to La Paz. The journey was my favourite so far. The lake, the mountains, the passes on the way into La Paz (at 4200m, the highest capital in the world) and then the sprawl of the outskirts before the vast valley of the city itself. We were early and by 1130 we were in the Amaszonas Airline office booking ourselves on the afternoon flight to Rurrenabaque, the jungle town at only 100m altitude, on the Amazon delta.

Rurre was stiflingly hot andn seemingly only existed to service the needs of young travellers going on jungle or, more likely, pampas excursions. We booked on for three days with the popular and cheap Fluvial tours after a long afternoon of visiting some of the 30 tour agencies and talking with all the other gringos doing the same. Of course we expected to be going bush away from civilisation. We didnt realise that all the agencies work for about 4 companies and all the 'lodges' are within a few hundred metres of each other on the same stretch of river 100km from Rurre - and that in the evening everyone (maybe 70 people) converge on the same river lodge because that it is the only one with cold beer! So all the toing and froing selection a tour was pretty pointless - well, not entirely - we ended up with Diego as our guide. His poor English, youth (named Guito, jnr guide, by the others) and inability to hold his liquor leading to us missing both the night and sunrise walks in the pampas did mean that we picke3d a turkey!

But on the upside the 4 hour jeep journey was fun; our group was the best group of course (with Mike and Anita, Matt and Jess from the other New Zealand, Steven and Lisa from Preston, and us); on the first trip up river we were blinded by thousands of alligators of all sizes from pencils up to 5m; we saw hundreds of the world's biggest rats looking very cuddly; lost track of the number of crazy birds we saw including the stunning Bird of Paradise; and we saw the cute pink river dolphins, which a bit disconcerting as they look like mini-monsters as they break the murky water's surface with their stunted fins (not a dig at my countrymen:)).

We had jungle huts at night, plenty of good food, went anaconda hunting the next day and eventually found them after 3 hours in driving rain. We were soaked but enjoyed every minute. On the last day we fished for piranhas and took photos as Mike and Steve got their legs teased by pink dolphins. We were sad to find that our the Dutch couple that we kept seeing everywhere, Michael and Anne, broke down and had a horrid 9 hour journey back. Meanwhile we continued to marvel at the memory of all those alligators.

We got back to find that the rain had washed out all the flights out of Rurre. Because it is in the jungle the airstrip is just mud so any rain renders it useless for days. We were in the third flight out but that could have been a week away. So, I got a motorbike backie to the bus station where Mike and Anita were also faffing over the choice of buses. We plumped for the next departure but had to be content with the back row - for the 17 hour journey to La Paz - along jungle tracks and then up the Andes along some crazy roads, up the replacement for the world's most dangerous road, which still feels pretty dangerous. We played silly games with the Zealanders and the time flew past. We had one stoppage to negotiate a part of the track that had actually been removed. We had to pile up the back of the bus and we rocked to near horizontal before making it.

World´s biggest rats... and some alligators

Rustic accomodation

Luckily that one was blind

The world´s highest navigable lake

2008-10-21T12:46:00.000-07:00

...or not. Our book says it is. And then says it isn´t. We will leave that for Lonely Planet´s new owners, the BBC, to sort out.

We went on another nutty journey by bus from Puno in Peru to Copacobana just over the Bolivian border, skirting Lake Titicaca. At 4000m there is a chill in the wind tempered by the piping hot sun streaming through cloudlesss sky. Copa is a small tourist town with a street of tat and plenty of boat options for getting to Isla Del Sol; the Island of the Sun and the legendary Inca birthplace of creation - which I always thought was in Manchester. Hang on, someone is saying I have made that joke before. Well, there it is again in case you missed it.

The island has a lovely Inca trail walk through the middle of it with glorious 360 views of the lake and snow tipped mountains in the distance. Along the track there are various ruins, shrines and carvings. And, at the end, there was quality coffee in the village before the boat back. Copa had a lovely laid back traveller scene and was refeshing after the hustle of Peru.

Lake Titicaca is a beautiful sight

Ticking the box marked...

2008-10-21T12:28:00.001-07:00

We had long joked that in Cusco, Peru we would see everyone again that we had met so far on our trip. We were not strictly correct. We did see Amber again, though we don´t know how her date went. No, instead it seemed that we saw every other caucasian tourist in the world in Cusco. The Peruvian marketing Darth Vaders have done a remarkable job. Cusco has a pretty colonial heart. Though to our eyes it is not that different from Popayan (Columbia) or Cuenca (Ecuador) and certainly Cartagena (Columbia) is its equal. However, the world and his wife are there. The place is packed with North American tourists (stop pretending to be Canadian already!) and everyone is queuing for pizza, cash, burgers and tours.

Of course, most people are there because Machu Picchu is the hottest destination in South America. This is a bit of a sensitive subject as a lot of people spend a lot of effort and money on coming to MP and it is the centre piece of their trip. But we really didn´t get it. We really wish we had had the cojones not to go. They say they are trying to limit the numbers on the Inca Trail and at MP but all they are doing is coining it big time. We did make the mistake of getting the train, when we found out afterwards that it is actually possible to avoid the train and walk part of the way on the train tracks. So it cost us a large chunk of change. But what was really disappointing was the site itself. Compared to Tikal (Guatemala) or Palenque (Mexico), the two most impressive sites we have seen, it just doesn´t seem very cosmic. The hilltop location is awesome, but just in Peru in the Cordilleras and the canyons there is much more spectacular scenery. And of course MP is crawling with visitors, many of whom rejoice at seeing as they have just walked 4-5 days to get there. Ultimately the combination of Cusco and Machu Picchu, the atmosphere and numbers, are what we try to avoid most of the time.ñ

But we had to go, of course. We had to tick the box. But we also had a very special friend to take with us. You will remember the a certain bear originally arrived at Paddington train station after a very long journey from darkest Peru. Last year, while doing life laundry back in Brighton, I found said lonely and ruffled bear in the loft - some 28 years after I had first been given him as a present. We thought it was time for him to return to his homeñand and see the sights. After seeing the mountains and valleys, we left Paddington bear around the corner from the Mortureros in Machu Picchu, where has a great view of the site, the valley, the train and Putucusi.

The 800m high rock that is Putucusi has special significance for us. The day before we visited the site of MP we climbed this imposing edifice. There were vertical sections of collapsing ladders, some 50m long. But at the top we were rewarded by a quiet, serene and delightful view of Machu Picchu. It was the highlight of our time in the area. Of course it seems harsh to knock one of the world´s great wonders but we were just very uncomfortable with it. Perhaps it is in the context of wider Peru - which seems poorer and more disturbed than even Bolivia and seems well beind Ecuador developmentally. And that so much wealth is in Cusco when the rest of the country is a mess. And how so many people we met were not going anywhere else in Peru. It seemed sad somehow.

San Blas plaza over Cusco

The train to Machu Picchu

On the lookout for marmelade... or was it jam

Huanca Picchu - quite a mouthful

Harry Kipper and Colca Canyon

2008-10-21T12:09:00.000-07:00

Arequipa is Peru´s second city. Though it has since been renamed. By me. It has a lovely colonial style heart, that we found very useful for changing Easter Island flight times with LAN, our favourite South American Oneworld group airline. After just a few hours we carried on apace back up across the altiplano towards canyon country. Having been to the Grand Canyon and had such a mind blowing experience we were unsure about what to think of Peru´s canyons. Cotahausi Canyon is the world´s deepest at 3354m (twice as deep as the Grand Canyon), and just around the corner is Colca Canyon, the world´s second deepest, and easily accessible from the village of Cabanaconde. The local hostels have a good system going where they book you into the ´oasis´at the bottom and give brief instruction on how to take a long walk to and from the bottom over two days. Before the off we found lone Bristolian, Amber, and roped her into joining us.

The canyon was about 30 degrees in the sun and 15 out of it, with a pretty harsh wind blowing at times. Distance perception was difficult, gazing across the plunging valley towards the specs of villages we would be visiting. Of course, as ever, we were in the wild, but not alone. There was a steady stream of tourists doing similar walks, many gutted that they had forked out for a guide when we and others hadn´t, and a steady stream of mules ferrying supplies to the villages and the tourist oasis. We had a corking two hour lunch breather and arrived after a total of eight hours walking, at the oasis at nightfall. Our lodgings had a spring-fed pool which, though chilly at 6PM, was still just what was required. Our hut was made of bamboo that really looked like it had just fallen together accidentally. We had sleeping bags and extra blankets and were feeling very smug that we were walking independantly when it transpired that half the visitors were getting up to leave at 0130AM to walk back up as part of their ´tour´. Ouch. The four hour walk, almost vertically up, was a serious test, particularly for asthmatic Amber, who was lovely company throughout.

We jumped straight on the bus after the walk, just as we had done at Huaraz, and back at Harry Kipper we droped by Juanita, a mummified sacrificial victim who, after lying sedate for 500 years, had been exposed after her volcano had erupted, melting her icy covering and revealing her perfectly preserved torso, including skin and tissue. We stayed the night in the family-run El Tumi Del Oro near the plaza and prepared for another night bus.

Canyon action

Mules were all the rage

None of this performance wear for me. I carried a plastic bag through the canyon and I´m proud

Oh no not another oasis

Dune

2008-10-21T11:51:00.000-07:00

We have a regular trick of avoiding capital cities. So far we have swerved Ottawa, Washington, Mexico City, Belmopan (though we have been singing the theme tune ever since we saw Belize´s Police Academy on the outskirts), Guatemala City, Tegucigalpa (ok we did crash one night), Managua (though we did spend some quality time at the airport), Bogota, Quito, and now we swerved Lima.

With the capitals we have only spent quality time in San Juan on Puerto Rico and Caracas in Venezuela. Our two nights in ´prison´ in San Jose (Costa Rica) were eminently forgetable. It is just that, so often, the capital cities seem to offer much less in charm than they do in prospective aggravation - and you can´t see everything. Buenos Aires, from whence I write, would be an exception to our logic- it really is a destination in itself.

So we swerved Lima because we had read about Huacachina; an oasis in the desert. And it was. It was actually in the desert. Neither of us had ever seen endless dunes of sand trailing off towards the horizon. It was stunning. And around a little lagoon were a dozen hotels, and lots of gringos, like us. In the morning we took a walk up one of the dunes. And we took some of the local sandboards. After an exhausting yomp through the sand we got the top, overlooking the oasis, and we tried some sandboarding, in the company of some friendly Bristolians, who were doing exactly the same thing. Unfortunately the local boards were fat planks with velcro ankle strapping. We had been given wax; candle wax; to grease our descent but it really wasn´t happening. Back down at the oasis we sought an alternative and chanced upon a friendly Canadian restauranteur who had a stash of real snowboard and boots - apparently every year a load of Brazilian and Chilean nutters turn up for a sandboard fest and leave their old gear.

So, in the afternoon we went back for real - and in style. The action started with a dune buggie ride. Their were 8 of us and our driver, Rico, and he took us on a roller coaster ride across the sands. We didn´t expect it at all and it was great fun, really exhilerating - a blast. And after a few wild rides we were taken to the tops of a series of progressively higher and steeper dunes to do some boarding. We felt a bit guilty at first that we had the nice boards - but it turned out the most of the others were going for it head first at amazing speed and had no interest in the aesthetics of carving. We managed a few good runs but the wax would only last for a few metres before the board got very sticky - that was our best excuse for poor technique! And we watched the sunset across the dunes. Marvellous.

An oasis in the desert

Stylin´ it

Our driver prepares to frighten us some more

Sunset dune zen by Burton

Peru and big mountains

2008-10-21T11:35:00.000-07:00

We considered going from Vilcabamba into northern Peru´s Amazonas but the transport links, and our schedule, didn´t allow it. So we got the early connection across the border to Piura, in Northern Peru. On the way, at Loja bus station, we saw a familiar face. Judith, the Swiss guide, from Guatemala, who had unfortuntely not been our guide on the Pacaya volcano when we had shared the shuttle ride there.

In Piura we stumbled across her other half, Victor, as we tried to get bus tickets up into Huaraz and the Cordillera Andes. Judith and Victor you see are serious mountaineers, experienced guides and were on the way to hire a mule and set off on a two week hikey-climb into the wilderness. And we were going to see the mountains. It was a different world of adventure. But we enjoyed a nice afternoon, a cozy night bus and a stress free morning on our way to Huaraz. In true amazing race style Anna and I picked up stupidly fast connections via Trujillo, Chimbote and another night bus to arrive in Huaraz the night before our extreme buddies. We asked around, nearly paid for a guide, but then the lovely people at gave us a map to Lake 69.

The next day we went on an six hour walk that took us up to 4800m and the stunning Lake 69, nestled in amongst 4 of the Andes´ highest peaks, all over 6000m and snowcapped. The last couple of hundred metres were torchure, even though we had spent quite a few days over 3000m, and we experienced the tiring effects of altitude. Huaraz was a hustling mix of adventure tourists and mountain market centre, with a constant flow of people, great value Chinese food and a kind of frontier spirit in awe of the mountain gods. It was very cool and we would´ve loved to have gone further into the wilderness ourselves.

The Cordilleras await

Lago 69 at 4800m

We always look like this

Some big mountains

Vilcabamba´s serene valley

2008-10-21T11:01:00.000-07:00

Via Loja and a suitably extensive bus journey we arrived at Vilcabamba and the Izchayluma hostel; probably the best market place in the whole of Ecuador. There were flyers for it everywhere we went and everyone on the bus was going there - and luckily we had reserved. If we had described the place to ourselves we would have probably hated it but in reality it was a real triumph, definately in amongst the best places we have stayed and probably a hostel-of-the-year contender. German owned, Izchayluma has a great location looking down the valley above the village of Vilcabamba; the massage/healing and horse riding town of southern Ecuador, and a neat tourist trap on the way to Peru. The village itself is charming and not too dusty, and the hills around are dotted with the homes of the wealthy (a famous, as yet un-named, Spanish tennis star) and tourist lodgings. Izchayluma pitches itself as a spa at hostel prices. It is big, has a pool, has a big restarant, has a bar and has a lot of locals popping in for afternoon snacks on their tourist trails - but somehow it retains some charm - even though it is a mega-hostel. All with gorgeous views down the valley.

Unfortunately Anna really didn´t get to enjoy it so much as she was ill with some kind of stomach infection and maybe flu. While she was laid up I was able to take full advantage of the facilities, and enjoy the company of some of the lovely people we met there. The food was also ace. I will never forget the that I ended up rep-eating it was so good. Vilcabamba is known as the valley of longevity as, apparently, residents live to unfeasible ages. To be honest we didn´t notice that at all - our impression was of a sweet village where every horse was for sale, rent or consumption.

Back at the palacial hostel someone had made a couple of mistakes. Firstly putting a table tennis table in the bar; and then allowing someone wearing an Arsenal shirt to play on it. This was like a red rag to me, and even given alcohol intake and low light, I set about dispatching a series of dirty Gooners. Secondly the owners arranged a pool tournament. After faltering through the early rounds I met the rather affable Charles in the final. He was on his way from Alaska to Antarctica, driving a Nissan Patrol, and was taking along all kinds strangers on the way. he very kindly offered to drive us into Peru and to see some otherwise less-travlled areas - we would have loved to take him up but our new (and daft schedule) meant that we had to decline that adventure. Back to the action; I reached the black but... just as I was lining up the stroke... on the random juke box comes... Bruce Springsteen´s The River. Regular fans of this column will know that last year at about this time, with the help of an old recording of my father´s voice, I performed (well stumbled through) this at my father´s wake. The song is not without emotional significance for me. So I crumbled. At the last hurdle... on the black... I faltered and missed. Smooth Charles however couldn´t finish so, in tears, I stepped back up and finshed off - trying to ramble to him about how I wasn´t just emotional at being hostel pool champion. The prize (of cooking rum) was duly shared amongst the gathered hoard of Gooners and Irish (if there is a hostel bar you can guarantee our cousins fro the sceptred isle will have sniffed it out).

In Vilcabamba I face one last test. The hostel had been designed, built and was run by Germans. The food was ace. And they had bred a champion. A ping pong champion. He appeared in the Deutschland world cup footy top - the one with three stars - for each of their spawny victories. If anything was going to incite me to a higher level of ping-consciousness this was it. 40 years of hurt. Jules Rimet´s still gleaming. It was close. And I had the shallow end. But I ended victorious over 3 sets. In the diming light. With the moths circling and the sweat pooling. There can be only one. Ask what you can do for your country... etc. etc.

The Vilcabamba view from the restaurant

Good German food here

Where did you get that hat?

Puerto Lopez and more Ecuador

2008-10-21T10:44:00.000-07:00

After the return flight from the Galapagos we spent a day in Guayaquil, Ecuador´s second city. In the Plaza D´Armas we found hundreds of very large iguanas mingling with the lunching office workers and tourists and we strolled the sanitised Malecon 2000 seafront boardwalk up to Las Penas, the charming hill of 500 steps, filled with bars and cafes. Some have had negative experiences in Guayaquil but, apart from the cost of taxis to get in and out of the centre, we found it pretty appealing, if lacking the excitement of a real ´destination´ city.

Our next port of call, Puerto Lopez, looked like a bomb had hit it, thanks to the total renovation of the town´s central streets. The endless sandy beach lined with relaxed bars and restaurants was a winner but the big draw was offshore; the breeding ground for the Eastern Pacific´s humpback whale population. We were just too late to see courtship but we saw dozens of big whales and some babies and some flipping and flopping on a half day boat ride. Back on the beach I had to ball juggle and buy-in to get into the big local footy match on the sand. It nearly ended in tears when I slid in, last ditch, on their big flair player. He landed awkwardly on my twisted legs though I luckily only got a nasty graze and not a break. We even had a temporary sub while I washed off in the sea - the chaps were taking it quite seriously. Avoiding the dead dog, bottles and jellyfish in the sand we ran out 2-0 winners - though I never did see my double-your-money share of the winnings.

Next up we wandered into semi-colonial Cuenca, famous as the home of the Panama hat. Panama hats are not from Panama you see. They are from Ecuador. And they are properly known as Montechristis. We went to a famous hat emporium and I was truly suckered. I put on a modern interpretation and after 45 minutes in the shop I couldn´t take it off. It has been with us ever since - even through several ´cat in the hat´ and one particularly disturbing ´Jay Kay´ jibe session.

In Cuenca we stayed at the cool ´Naranja´ hotel; an artist´s house lovingly made into a hostel with leafy common areas and cool furniture. We paced the streets and ate kiwi fruit.

Lots of big iguanas in Guayaquil

Puerto Lopez´ attractive high street

Nice digs in Cuenca

In the news

2008-10-21T10:22:00.000-07:00

A lot of the time, while we have been on the road, we feel like we are in another world. But there are also times when we know we are in the same world and we are humbled by the trifles of distance, flying times and opposing seasons. A few weeks ago we learned from a Spanish news report about the shooting in a Finnish school that marked the start of the dark months with eleven deaths in a small town in our small country.

A few days ago I found out that my friends in Brighton have suffered a tragic loss. Chris was mother to Ben, a very old school friend; like an aunt to Tommy; and a great friend to Teresa in the hardest times. We were neighbours for years and years and she always seemed so young, especially to have three grown up kids. Anna and I were in her house at Chistmas, witnessing the amazing amount of friends they had. It is very hard for me to think of her husband Paul now. He has been such a wonderful friend to my dad and he has been so supportive to Teresa and me through our grief and now he has been robbed of the love of his life. It is really tragic and just not fair.

Not another apology

2008-10-02T17:40:00.000-07:00

Well, yes, this is one of those apologising posts for not blogging. The last post rather petered out didn´t it? And we really haven´t had much time recently. And now we are in Bolivia where there is not much in the way of ´banda ancha´ (that´s broadband to you and me) so it may be a while before we blog properly again.

But let me explain briefly why...

You see we were in the lovely Ecuadorian hillside village of Vilcabamba, Anna wasn´t well, I was busy drinking and becoming hostel pool and ping pong lord (I won a bottle of rum - but that´s another story) and... yes... and we realised we were running out of weeks. Well, that we had less than six weeks to see Peru, Bolivia and Argentina, and get to Santiago in Chile. Not long considering it is pretty easy to spend 6 weeks in any one of these countries - and more.

So, we put down the ping pong bats and came up with a cunning and extreme plan. We noted the places we really wanted to see, looked in the books and came up with a schedule that includes a night bus every other night or so and takes in all the ´big stuff´ we want to see (especially penguins).

The plan went;

PERU- Huaraz (for the Cordillera Andes), Arequipa (for the world´s second deepest canyon), Cuzco (for Macchu Pichu), Copacabana (Lake Titicaca and Isla Del Sol)
BOLIVIA- Rurrenabaque (for the pampas, river action and pink dolphins we hope), Uyuni (for crazy salt flats jeep ride)
ARGENTINA- Salta, Cordoba, Buenos Aires, Puerto Madryn (whales, penguins amd more penguins), El Bolson (for hippies), Barilloche (lakes), Mendoza (wine)

We started very, very well. We have been up to Lake 69 at 4800m near Huaraz, hiked 2 days into Colca Canyon, ´done Macchu Pichu´, and we even managed to slip in an amazing day at Huacachina (more next time). Today we went to Isla Del Sol in Lake Titicaca. It is supposed to be the birthplace of creation - I thought that was the Hacienda in Manchester - boom tsch! And we have made up time - for instance we were the last gringos across the border last night and tomorrow we get on the 6am bus to La Paz, rush to the TAM ticket office and get tickets for the 1430 flight to Rurrenabaque on TAM Militar - it even goes from the military airport, which sounds like fun! We could be cruising in some dug out in the pampas on saturday with any luck... and once we hit the quality Argy broadband I promise to divvy up the full monty with pics and all...

Monkey business

2008-09-14T15:39:00.001-07:00

Back on the Ecuadorian mainland we enjoyed a night in Guayaquil. The Dreamkapture hostel had a couple of tiny (Tamarind?) monkeys in residence as part of a breeding program, good breakfast and a friendly vibe. I picked up Goerge Best´s autobiography, we wandered the sanitsed Malecon waterfront, and climbed the steps to enjoy the view from bar village, Las Penas. Then we hot footed it to Puerto Lopez on the coast.

On arrival we were distinctly unimpressed (and we were imagining the looks on the Mullers faces when they would have arrived a few days earlier in the hope of sand, surf and sun) as Puerto Lopez came on like Belize city. It turned out that the town was being totally redeveloped. But rather than go street by street, all the streets were up and it was a total mess. Luckily we are well balanced enough to see through such trifles (unlike one couple in Columbia who gave the place a total slagging) and we enjoyed it. We were there, like everyone else, because Puerto Lopez is the main breeding ground for Humpback Whales, where they spend 4 months courting, mating, playing and birthing before doing one back to the Antarctic. We got on a boat and within half an hour we were seeing whales´ tails smack the water. We were just too late in the season to see all the males really put on a show, but we saw some breeching (out of thev water) and followed a family with a pup- it was well worth doing.

We then pushed on to Cuenca, world heritage city, from where I write this. We ate in Turkish splendour last night and we are staying in an artsit´s remodelled home - it is cold but cool. And we just spent sunday in the local market, pettng the bunnies, feeling sorry for the guinea pigs that are due to be dinner, and stocking up on juice drinks and prawns for dinner - as all the restaurants closed. Last night we drank in the German owned, Wunderbar, and tomorrow we will stay in a German owned place in Vilcabamba which I dare not try to spell. By next week ve vill be vearing ze lederhosen and suporting Bayern... probably.

One thing frustrated me about our Galapagos cruise. Being as I was the only mug on the boat to have a guitar, I was hassled to perform, but my constant state of seasick nasuea prohibited this (sickness usually comes to me band mates of course). So I feel like I owe the Mullers a show - I was also trying to impart guitar playing advice to Matthias and Sofie, who are both learning, but I was making a terrible hash of it - so here are my top tips:

- Don´t get a good teacher - get a great teacher. Changing teachers is good.
- Watch live Jimi Hendrix videos
- Practice standing up
- Devote at least one third of practice time to posing, hyjinx and gimmicks (studying Phil Lynott, Beck, Pete Townsend, Paul Weller, Funkadelic is good for this)
- Learn to improvise
- Listen
- Find somewhere to play really loud

Part two of what I learnt

2008-09-14T15:23:00.000-07:00

Scientists had recently challenged Darwin´s theories of evolution (remember those Finches) because they postulated that the lifetime of the Galapagos islands as we know them (at 4 million years old) was not long enough to allow the birds to develop their distinctive traits. However, geologists then discovered that, even though the youngest of the Galapagos islands is under 4 million years old, there are a number of submerged islands that would have once been above water that are over 10 million years old. This has convinced the scientists that Darwin was right after all.

In the past I have often hypothesised on the origins of man (dons jazz beard, white coat, packs pipe, buys first slippers and continues...), in patricular about the existence of ancient, partially aquatic humans, whose existence has been hidden from anthropologists because the evidence is buried under ocean beds and under water. Thanks to seeing the unspoilt Galapagos and direct evidence of evolution and how it has befuddled the scientific community, I am more convinced than ever that my own syndactyly (webbed fingers at birth, since split by surgery) is an evolutionary inheritance from, as yet undiscovered and unresearched, ancient partially aquatic races.

I am also equally certain that my gappy front teeth, as Wayne has frequently pointed out, are an evolutionary inheritance that; much as the Large Tree Finch is enabled to eat, presumably, large trees; enable me to eat an apple through a tennis racket.

Just another day on the islands

2008-09-14T15:01:00.000-07:00

We were very sad to leave to Encantada. This time 4 nights was enough but we learnt some tips we can pass on. Small boat is good; July is a great time to go as weather is brighter, it is still off season, sea is calmer, water is warmer, big aquatic stuff (sharks etc.) are around; some week itineries waste a day in the middle picking up people from home port - avoid these and do a week that goes to Isabella, the big island with active volcano, penguins and more; and most of all book with the boat direct. Our agent was very sweet and nothing went wrong - but we didnt get veggie food on the plane, or at the welcome dinner, the wet suit sizing emails were a red herring, and they got our flight time wrong. Next time, once we know which boat, we will make the calls to find the boat owners (probably one of the agents) and book with them so that everyone saves/makes money and no one takes a whopper for doing bugger all. Yes, we will go back sometime, and we would recommend Galapagos to anyone - it can be as extreme or sedate as you want and, it is not priced that differently from an expensive week or two in Europe or North Anerica- the cruises are expensive but Ecuador and the islands themselves are not.

After the cruise we spent a couple of days exploring Puerto Ayora and the island of Santa Cruz. We bused to the interior, cloaked in mist, and walked miles to find the El Primicias tortoise sanctuary, where we got up close and personal with dozens of leaf loving gigantic reptiles. And then we played ping pong. Back in Puerto Ayora we walked to the majestic Bahia Tortuga, a stunning stretch of sand hiding a secret lagoon. On our last day we went the volcanic fissure of Las Grietas with ze German couple. Matthias and Jule were still around enjoying 5 days of diving - and they were desperate to take their ten thousandth under water photo! Half of our photos from the Galapagos seem to have Matthias posing somewhere in the distance - we are sure he has what it takes to become America´s Next Top Model - for sure for sure yah.

We had our last night night with them at the Angermeyer Point bar just in front of Puero Ayora´s harbour, just a short water taxi ride away. We watched the tourist boats ni the harbour enviously, wishing we could get on board and go for another cruise. As we had walked up the path to the bar a gorgeous baby sea lion had trotted up the path in front of us and was keen to get passed us. We let him go on his way and we were mesmorised as his flipping ate up the tarmac. At our table we were momentarily disturbed when a three legged, blue sea iguana shuffled through the restaurant - I forgot to mention that sea iguanas are everywhere in the Galapagos - and they are tricky to spot sometimes against the black of the volcanic rock (probably on purpose according to a certain Mr Darwin) and sometimes you have to watch your feet. And we carried on enjoying our wonderful cocktails and tapas (it was our last night after all) as big pelicans dive bombed in the sea beside us and then we looked up from our table and saw a family a eagle rays, flapping just the surface, wandering below us. It was just another casual moment on the islands.

Just another Galapagos beach

Some boobies

An important environmental statement

They might be giants

Das Boot

2008-09-14T14:17:00.000-07:00

After Salinas we had a forced night at Guaranda, where our night was punctuated by a family party in the room downstairs from ours. After nearly putting my fist through a window they got the message and we got to sleep. We then had a night in Guayaquil, Ecuador´s second city, before the airport and the plane to the Galapagos. At the airport I spotted a family confused by the system (baggage screen, tax payment and then check-in) and I helped them in the right direction. This turned out to be the Mullers from Regensberg in fairytale Bavaria and we were soon to be enjoying more of their company when it transpired we were on the same boat trip.

Yes, for sure, ve vere on ze Deutsche von boot - vis a total of 8 of ze Germans - for us to fight over the sun deck cushions with!

We started the cruise with a trip on land to the Darwin turtle centre and saw some big ones. It is such a coincidence that they are called Giant Tortoises when they are so large. And after lunch we met the rest of the passengers and got on the Encantada, our red motor sailer. As well as the five Mullers, including Thomas, Susan und die kinder (not strictly fair as Matthias, Sofie and Lena are 13,17 and 22), we had another Matthias and Jule from the fairytale Black Forest, Katja from Suiss-Germany, Loija from Italy and Erin from tiny Shepperton near Melbourne.

We were well looked after on the boat - the food was good and there were always snacks ready for us. Meal times were hectic - as everyone was so hungry even though we were eating breakfast and two three-course meals a day as well as snacks - and because there was a constant flow of tri-lingual nonsense (German, English and Spanish) including endless ´das-von-hosen-van-der-hoffen´ piss taking from yours truly. Poor Loija was very confused the whole time. Whenever we tried our French or Italian with her it was a total mess - luckily everyone was easy going - and most importantly we had a boss bilingual guide, Juanito; another one of these superhuman dive master types who has probably arm wrestled with Neptune himself.

A typical day involved two or three shore excursions with walks to see wome of the fauna, and one or two snorkelling sessions. We were ferried to and from the boat in the outboard by one of the crew who I swear was a dead-ringer for the ferryman of the dead. All he needed was a cape, sickel and some loose change to go with his steely glaze, squat deportment and uncanny lack of neck. I took to calling him Danny after the nickname of one of our school teachers, who also had a head closer to his shoulders than is sensible in a modern world where you might have need to wear a scarf... or have an adam´s apple. In fact, thinking about it he never did speak.

Before I get back to the all important animalia of the islands, I should tell you about part one of what I learnt from seeing evolution first hand. You see Darwin came to the Galapagos, rode and ate turtles, and studied Finches. By noticing that 13different Finches´ bills had developed to cope with various environments and feed habits, he began to forulate his theories on evolution. Now I am convinced that our boatman, Danny, can trace his family lineage back to the aristocracy of the French revolution and his cervical spine has developed to ensure that he, or his offspring, will never suffer under the executioner´s blade.

We took in the islands of Santa Cruz (home port), Floreana, Espaneola, San Christobal, Santa Fe, North Seymour and Baltra. The sea was rough because of the time of year and on the second day I surprised Erin, a policewoman, with a flight of vomit as she made the mistake of getting downwind at the side of the boat. One snorkelling session on the first day was interrupted by some sickness (I got back on the dinghy to throw up) but I soon got back in the water as I wasn´t going to miss the family of rays that the group had found.

The blue footed boobies (daft looking birds, totaly uninhibited by human presence), red footed boobies, frigates, albatrosses and flamingoes were lovely. And the volcanic landscape was stunning. But the real surprise were the awesome beaches. And the real treat was in the water. What they don´t tell you about the Galapagos islands is that they belong to the sea lions. They are every where. In the towns, at the fish stall, on the paths to the bars, on the walking oaths on the islands, on every rock, and covering every beach. And we were there during the rearing season so we saw untold pups. And, on land the sea lions are very dozy, sometimes inquisitive, but generally very lazy. The eral fun is in the water. When they are away from their beach territorial squabbles they are very playful in the water. We ony had a couple of occaisions when we were able to swim with them and they started to mirror your moves and stare as if to say ´come on then, play more, is that the best you can do?´ but they were the highlights for me. On a few of the snorkels we came across a lot of turtles. They are also amazing underwater, being so huge and graceful, but they are just doing their thing and they don´t interract. We also saw a few white tipped sharks, plenty of rays, including the spotted eagle rays, and untold fish.

The most memorable snorkel was at the Devil´s Crown, a natural outcrop of volcanic rock that looks like its moniker. Outside the crown there was a lot of life but inside was like an aquarium, complete with sharks and rays.

Back on the boat, Juanito would give us a clear briefing every night, and everything was very punctual. We drank hot chocolate, watched the stars, got up with the dawn, listened to salsa and just about put up with the the faint nausea from the rough sea crossings, which were usually 4-5 hours a day. On the fourth day on our way to Santa Fe we were sat on the sun deck with all out eyes on the horizon on the look out for big fish. After missing dolphins in places like Baja we had started to think they would always avoid us. But Galapagos delivered. Jule and Anna spotted some antics in the distance and before we knew it there were dozens playing around the boat in the wake and more off ploughing through shallow waves of the rough sea. Just when we thought we had lost them the show started again a few hundred metres in front of the boat. The burning image I have is of two of them arched in symmetry way out of the water ahead of us in a patring shot.

Excuse us... and the Encantada in the background

The crew and the healing hand

Ze dinah vis ze Germans... yah!

Sunrise on the Encantada

Chocolate City

2008-09-14T13:59:00.000-07:00

Salinas, altitude 3500m, not to be confused with Salinas on the coast, is rightly known as the cheese and chocolate capital of Ecuador. The village is perched beneath rugged cliffs at the end of the picturesque, rolling valley at the confluence of two rivers. There are only about 700 residents. We were the only tourists. But there were 3 other gringos in town. By a stroke of diving coincidence the only other foreigners in the village were Mika, Timo and Jaakko; three young Finns on a long term project to educate the entrepreneurs of Salinas. A village with 80% of foreigners; Finns, a pizza restaurant, cheese, chocolate and... a football factory. Factory is a big word for the one room where the three staff inflated, spun, glued and painted the knock-off footballs that are seen in every sports shop in Ecuador and on every street.

We stayed at the cold (12 degrees inside) hostel of Senor Victor, the Samilagua. We had 7 very heavy blankets to control during a night´s sleep, and the living room fire couldn´t manage to remotely our room. But it was ace. Breakfasts on the square were lovely. Salinas is also known for its coffee, weaving and other dairy produce and crafts and we enjoyed it all, in patricular the lovely views down the valley. I played footy with the youth in the square, we played some great backgammon, and then the unthinkable happened.

The Finns´ weekly session with the local hoteliers, cheese makers (blessed they are too!), chocalatiers, football fabricators and other budding business people, was scheduled to be on marketing. I joined a million-making guest speaker from Guayaquil in lecturing to the throng in the freezing village hall. It was so remarkable because, probably for the first time I was naked; with no PowerPoint! Unthinkable indeed. Mika tranlasted line for line (something we could consider later for the Finnish market!!! - just kidding there) and I regailed about the joys of effective simple and singular messaging, and on my fave topic; marketing disciplnes, as well as a little on relevant cost-freer marketing techniques. The chaps were happy, and I had managed to make some parallels with the big brand world with relevance for some of our budding entrepreneurs. Of course, fans of my presentations will be pleased to know that I went on far too long and forgot to dwell on one of my key points - even 3continents away nothing new there!

Salinas was very hard to leave. It is a well known for being a success story, as its produce is even exported abroad, but it was so friendly and was so familiar-feeling that, even though it was bloody cold, it was one of our favourite places.

Local street life
He is really making a new net out of tape
Pay attention at the back!

A note for Juan

2008-08-29T18:03:00.001-07:00

Juan from Columbia, I tried to call your mobile to get your email address and stay in touch. If you do check the blog, please leave a note or email us!

Flight of the Condor

2008-08-29T17:29:00.000-07:00

Having planned our days in order to be in the right place in Ecuador for our flight to the Galapagos (still can´t believe we are going!) we went south to Popayan, known as the white city, as the centre is all whitewashed colonial style buildings. The journey was marked by the attentions of a very friendly, English speaking physiotherapist, desperate to be our guide. He was so genuine and eager but he really wouldn´t put a sock in it. After 3 hours of non-stop babbling during which we were asked if we had seen the papaya over 200 times, and if we saw the sugar cane even more, we were ready to throw in the towel. Anyone thinking that this a pot-kettle-black scenario should not underestimate the world-class relentlessness of this perniciuos fellow. Once out of his clutches (thank god he got off half way, and yes, I refused his phone number) we stayed in La Familiar de Descanso in Popayan, one of the sweetest places so far, with grandmotherly style, nice big blankets (it has started to get Andean cold) hot showers and plants all around. We met Hanna, from Tampere, who we went around with for a few days - enabling her to enjoy some drinking after dark - something she hadn´t been doing since getting mugged on her first day in Columbia. Anna and I took a day trip to Agua Hirbeando, hot springs out in the hills. Friendly locals poored us AguaArdiente, the local firewater, as we played head-tennis and splashed about in the mineral-rich pools of varying temperatures. It was a lovely day but our overriding memories will be of the seriuosly pungent sulphurous smell that was very hard to wash off, and the lovely cat we petted for an hour while waiting for a ride out.

Popayan was friendly and fun to walk around. And so was the centre of Pasto, where we had to spend a night before the border crossing to Ecuador. We ate terrible pizza, but again enjoyed more mountain views all around and paced the centre of another progessive-feeling Columbian city. The border crossing to Ecuador was painless and, once across, the scenery got even more impressive. The south of Columbia is marked by three mountain ranges that come together to form the Andes proper, and as the relief grows more severe, the land is scarred by deep ravines and canyons. Much of the land is precariously farmed and there are some major volcanoes around to spice up the skyline.

Our first stop in Ecuador was Otavalo, where I write now. It is one of the craft centres of Ecuador and we have just been shopping this afternoon. It is also the town with the most pizzerias and internet cafes per square mile in the whole wide world ever. There are lots of indigenous folk around and our hotel has a free rooftop pool table with views to the surrounding valleys and volcanoes. Otavalo sounds Finnish and actually means the imperative ´take light!´.

This morning we went to Parque Condor, a unique Andean bird-of-prey sanctuary, set on top of a hill with 360 views across to the lakeland and distant vocanoes as far as the Columbian border. We saw a whopping Andean Condor up close and saw the flight show with various eagles, buzzards and hawks. And we coo´ed at the very cute owls. I used my charms to blag a lift back with a local family from Quito. The coffee is arguably better here than Columbia, though we have been drinking too much the last few days.

Tomorrow we are heading through Quito and on to Salinas in central Ecuador. Our book says it the cheese, salami and chocolate capital of the region. Wild horses... So we will swerve Quito, partly because we have just a few days to get to Guayaquil, but mostly because everyone we meet gets mugged and/or altitude sickness in Quito and we haven´t heard anything good about it.

It was this time last year that my dad left us. My thoughts now are with Kusti and his brothers and sister, who just lost their father. I can´t imagine what they are going through but we are thinking of them.

Snowy owl, like what we have back home hiding in the Finnish wilderness

The famous blinking owl of Otavalo

The coffee zone

2008-08-29T17:16:00.000-07:00

Medellin was interesting, for a big city. An endless valley of sprawling barrios, industry and a busy centre, the highlight was the new cable car, that has been built to connect some of the poorer barrios with the bustling metro. It is not really meant for tourists but it gave great views over the city and over the slums - it was also a great shot at urban generation, with many projects and public spaces at the bases of the huge pylons supporting the ski-resort-style gondolas. The low point of Medellin was our hostel, the Pitstop. A right royal rip off complete with Irish bar, pool, TV room filled with 18 year olds who should have been out doing something more interesting, though it was located near the zona rosa - so we found a nice restaurant and ate, yes, you guessed it, fondue. We also found Gato, the cat themed bar. And we waltzed around Medellin´s shopping district and saw all the statues in the squares. We didn´t see Pablo Esobar - in fact, Medellin seemed pretty sensible really.

Our bus journey south was far from sensible. About half way to Armenia in the zona cafeteria, the traffic was stopped as the main highway between Columbia´s two biggest cities was severed by a seies of landslides along a 30km stretch of road. Our daytime 6 hour bus ride was extended to 16 hours though we enjoyed a nice lunch as we waited for the road to be cleared. We finally arrived in the hill town of Salento at 3am, though it took us another hour to find the Plantation House hostal. We got a good night´s sleep and we were lucky. Some people we met left before us, their bus turned back, the slides were worse the day after and they ended up having to fly - so it took them three days.

Salento was charming. The Plantation House was owned by Tim, keeper of the wellies, necessary for venturing into the gorgeous surrounding countryside. We took a half day hike in the Cocora Valley nearby with some new friends (including Danny from Brighton who was given her first job by Ed in the Honey Club - but that´s another story) and we bought and cooked local produce and enjoyed the company of Agatha, the resident white Persian. There were lots of moths and she hid in the kitchen cupboard.

Cable car hijacked for the purposes of tourism

One of the six crazy bridges on the Cocora trail

The Cocora Valley... and the Delicatessens

Flight info

2008-08-29T17:02:00.000-07:00

In the interests of complete disclosure, and because the gremlins on the big blog day wiped it, here is our flight itinerary:

Santiago SCL - Easter Island IPC Sat 25.10 0910-1250 LA841
Easter Island IPC - Santiago SCL Sat 1.11 1350-2030 LA 842
Santiago SCL - Auckland AKL Tues 4.11 2305-0415 (6.11) LA 801
Auckland AKL - Sydney SYD Sat 6.12 0545-0720
Sydney SYD - Noumea NOU Sat 17.1 0855-1145 QF 91
Noumea NOU - Sydney SYD Sun 25.1 QF 92
Sydney SYD - Perth PER Sun 25.1 1920-2215 QF 583
Perth PER - Singapore SIN Fri 6.2 1305-1720 QF 77
Bangkok BGK - Helsinki HEL Thur 12.3 1235-1825 AY 96

Before that we are also flying to and from the Galapagos 3.9-10.9 and we are also maybe going to fly in Peru from Iquitos, if we get the chance to take a river trip... but that´s another story.

Bye bye Caribbean

2008-08-20T12:24:00.000-07:00

We ended up staying 4 nights in Techos Azul on the hill overlooking Taganga. We spent one day at Playa Grande, the big beach in the next bay, and we spent one lovely day at Parque Tayrona (pronounced to the tune of My Sharona). After a couple of bus rides we found ourselves waiting for the lift through the jungle towards the beaches of Tayrona and we met the ace couple, Steffi and Juan, from Frankfurt and Cali, Columbia respectively. Another multilingual, internationally time travelling couple. We took the hour walk through the jungle with them and saw a big bat, a big guinea pig (running very fast) and a timid monkey (who was too shy to take a banana) and then we chilled on at El Piscinita, a beach sheltered by a natural arc of shallow rock about 100m offshore - one of the few beaches where it is safe to swim. I snorkelled and saw some cuttlefish and plenty of fishfish and we enjoyed Steffi and Juan´s charming company. They were newly dating, in the first flushes of lurve, and very sweet and funny with it - we called them trolley dollies even though that doesn´t really reflect their work for the world´s best (not favourite) airline. And we were very envious as they found a cabin to stay at and return to on the beach. And Parque Tayrona is a paradise. Juan has an acoustic bass. I gave him a verbal warning.

Meanwhile we pushed on from Taganga to Cartagena, arguably South America´s prettiest city. Yes, it is very Spanish, lots of lovely narrow streets, buildings dating from the 18th century, thick walls and all that. But we are jaded, and we´ve been to Spain. And we were a bit ill. I think I might have got Juan´s flu. And Anna got some kinda stomach bug. But we did find a lovely new apartment to stay in - with a new kitchen, AC, seperate bedroom, 2 TVs and 2 comfy sofas to make us feel better. We cooked and watched trash TV for 3 days to recover, shopping at our favourite Columbian supermarket, Exito, and now we are ready to head on the night bus to the city of Medellin in central Columbia. And it is bye bye to the Caribbean.

Oh yeah. And more importantly you will be pleased to know that I took on the services of a local Cartagena hairdresser and took it all off. I feel great and I am much less of a threat to passing light aircraft.

Oh yeah. And most importantly we spent a few days emailing various Ecuadorian tour operators about the Galapagos islands. We contacted about 20 in all about the different types of all inclusive cruises that are the bread and butter of a Galapagos trip. You basically select on boat (motor, sail, large, small), guide quality and language, standard (from basic up to super duper first class), sports (diving, snorkelling or none), length (4 to 7 nights), itinerary (some go a long way at sea to the northern island) and cost. We have ended up with 4 nights on the 12 berth sailing boat, Encantada, from 3rd September. It is one step up from basic (so the AC works and we have an English language guide), just for snorkellers, and we are very excited. It is not cheap but based on the discussions we have had with other likeminded wanderers we realised it was a must. Fingers crossed! We now have under two weeks to make it to the Southern Ecuadorian city of Guayaquil for the flight on the morning of 3rd Sept.

Anna and Steffi at one of Parque Tayrona´s glorious beaches

The rocking view from the cosy area at Techos Azul above Taganga

Hips don´t lie

2008-08-12T11:52:00.000-07:00

Currently on a food shopping, Internet and banking trip to Santa Marta (the first Spanish settlement in South America and a big Caribbean port), we are actually staying in Taganga (said loudly and with purpose as if you are a Lenny Henry character), the backpacker (read; Israeli) hangout 5 clicks along the coast.

We had some room aggro today when we changed hotels only to find the lock busted to our new room. The owners have those guys from the PG Tips ads in to fix it and our stuff is chained up while we get some provisions.

The night bus to Maracaibo was painless and we got the first bus at 7AM to the border town of Maicao. We understood it was in Venezuela but it was in Columbia and we went through all the formalities getting on and off the same bus. While this was a better result and avoided the often-required cycle rickshaw or hike across the border, it still took 5 hours and we are indebted to our Argentine´s, Bruno and Corda, for bridging the comunication gap, helping us pay half for the onward bus, and not get ripped in currency trading.

Our first taste of Columbia is sweet, at the fishing village of Taganga. It is the gateway for the National Park of Tayrona and also the 6 day trek to the Lost City of the Incas, which we are considering.

In other news;
There were a few typos and gremlins had removed some images, comments and passages in the two thousand blog entries I made last week - most have been corrected.
We have new leaders; we sat down at dinner in Taganga and got a surprise when we saw Nico´s smiling face wander up. We have now seen the drunken Irish couple in San Blas, long bus to Acapulco, Acapulco square, Oaxaca, Semuc Champey and Taganga. bearing in mind these places are in three countries, over three months, and three thousand miles apart, that´s pretty extreme, even for the gringo trail. And it has made us feel a little like we have ´come home´.

Re: haircare; My hair is now dark brown, light brown, ginger and grey. And quite funny. I now sport a fabric bandana most of the time and am either German or Israeli to the locals. Anna made her hair turn green when she tried to disguise her blondness but it has recovered to more natural tones in the sunlight.
We are having great fun with money. From 20 Guatemalan Quetzales to the dollar, via 2.7 Venezuelan Bolivares to 1700 Columbian Pesos and a few others, it gets pretty hairy at the borders, and when calculating for the bus - but we are doing OK.

There is plenty more that I have missed. Next up we will spend a few days in Taganga before seeing Cartagena and then journeying south to Medellin and Cali. We met a Brightonian living in Venezuela who confirmed that, as much as it could and will be different in six months, it is the worst time to be in Venezuela - he was holidaying in Columbia to save money! And, it seems it is a good time to be in Columbia because tourist trails have only recently opened up...

Venezuela - slight change of plan

2008-08-09T16:10:00.000-07:00

We arrived in Caracas, got very confused by the ATMs - turns out you have to swipe very, very quickly and got burned with our tester black market money swap. Then we got to our hotel to find the price had doubled from our book. Then we went to a restaurant and found the prices had doubled from the book.

So we went to the backpacker hangout of Chorini along the coast to meet some more people and generally find what the heel was going on. We turned up in time to see the most incredible avalanche of locals arrive for the weekend on Choroni´s beaches, including the aptly named monster, Playa Grande. The sea of people was frightening, though they were very sensible with the sun shades, and the water looked brown at times because it was so dense with Venezuelan bodies.

And there was an incredible amount of plastic surgery around - at last Anna and I found a common interest to discuss! That´s not fair - we have been talking so much that we have been learning great things about each other - you know that we both watched Dogtanian and the three muskahounds when we were younger (singalong if you know the words!).

And we had two great long days on the beach - but then we needed two days to recover as we had high temperatures and unpleasant side effects either from heat (it was 40 plus in the shade) or maybe just changing country bacteria.

Anyway, we learnt that inflation has doubled prices in the last year in Venezuela. Also that the Bolivar has always been overvalued against the dollar. That the extensive black market trade in dollars has normally solved this. But that the currently weak dollar, combined with the inflation, means that the exchange rate is the lowest it has been for some time (not helped by the change to new Bolivar Fuerte notes (the "strong" Bolivar - a joke to everybody). All in all one successful tour operator told me it is probably the worst ever time to visit Venezuela. The standard Angel Falls tour cost around 100usd 4 years ago and is now 400usd. There is hardly any double accomodation under 30usd and everything is pricey. The locals aren´t happy but at least some wages in the cities are keeping up (especially in Maracaibo the oil centre).

After recovering for a few days in the lovely and safe Posada Alfonso in Choroni, we moved on the Andean mountain city of Merida, where I have just spent two days non-stop blogging to make up for my lack of blogging over the past few months. We want you to know, with our blog, that we love you.

So, we like Merida, but it is ideal for multi-sport adventures, the world´s highest and longest cable car is down for repairs (aaargh) and we have decided to cut our time in Venezuela. It was the country in the world I most wanted to visit but we arrive in what is a traveller`s economic disaster. We have looked at the money and realise that we can do far more elsewhere - and now we can spend a few weeks in Columbia and Ecuador and try to book a good Galapagos trip. We will head for the border on Sunday night and Monday and take a look at Santa Marta and Cartagena on the Columbian Pacific coast. Many thanks to my regional advisor, Mr Shanahan, for his thoughts, including persusaive evidence that we should take a monster Amazonian boat ride at some point. We "only" have until Nov 4th in South America and the Peru gringo stuff, Bolivia and Argentina are musts so we have to see what else, like any of Brazil, we have time for - fingers crossed - one natural disaster (Tropical Storm Arthur) and onw one economic one is enough for me for this year.

All travellers report that Columbia is great at the moment but we will take precautions. Our border crossings in and out of Columbia will take place in unsafe areas so will stick to the obvious areas and move on quickly to major towns, and avoid night buses. We will also sacrific the flight we had from Caracas to Lima in 3 weeks time - now that we have our hearts set on Galapagos, going overland will stop us having to backtrack from Peru to Ecuador and back and give us a chance to see Columbia - and sing plenty more Shakira!

We will leave you there blog readers and hope you enjoy the updates and photos.
Yours MC Deli and Miss Deli (currently preparing stew in Vene Suis - our cute hostal on the hill in Merida)

This is my ´where in the world´picture for Q, on Playa Grande with about 20000 Venezuelans

Sunset over the posada in Choroni

Vieques

2008-08-09T14:05:00.001-07:00

Vieques - have you heard of it? No? Neither had we. Well, PR has two bigger islands, Vieques and Culebra, and also a few islets. It turns out they all have great reef for snorkelling, one has a 2000 strong monkey research population, a few are wilderness, Culebra is famous for its world-class beaches including Flamingo beach, but we were heading for Vieques, known for its laid back vibe, world class beaches and the world´s most bio-luminescent bay.

We got to the ferry terminal and there was a huge queue. You see we were in PR during summer holiday ("summer xmas") and everyone was going Culebra. You have never seen so many ordinarily sized people carrying so many outrageously sized cool boxes. We had seen crowds on the beaches aroud Loiza and at Palmas Del Mar but there was a mass exodus to Culebra. Luckily 2 hours before departure the Vieques queue was tiny. We got tickets, brekkie and we were on our way on the cheap public ferry - actually the cheapest thing in PR - and it is a passport to paradise.

On Vieques we went across to Esperanza, the laid back ex-pat water side hangout. Snorkelling off the beach and jetty we saw tens of thousands of sardines, some big fish and plenty of littluns. And when we swam out to the island in the bay we saw a handful of big moon jellyfish and great marine life on the coral. We stayed at Bananas guest house, ate comfort food and took the walk to the massive curve of Sun Bay beach; next bay along.

And that night we had our real treat, the Mosquito Bay, a shallow bay, almost a saltwater lagoon that is filled with microscopic organisms. Turns out that these little fellas light up like xmas, like fireflies, when disturbed. Apparently it is a defense mechanism though I can´t see why the little fella going off is going to put me, a whale, or even any little fishie, off my supper or dipping my paddle. In fact strikes me that they are just enjoying themsleves.

They say that full moon should be avoided for bio-luminescence watching. We had no moon. Not only was the moon hiding somewhere in the earth´s shadow. But we also had the clearest night, more stars than we have ever seen in the sky. And we were in a double kayak, in pitch darkness, paddling out into the middle of this great bay.

After a few paddle strokes the fun started. You could see the water around the paddles glow. Once we got closer to the hotspots in the lake you could see the whole area around each canoe glowing a vibrant turquoise. And as we lifted our paddles out of the water with each stroke you could see bright sequins falling from them, lighting up, going out, dripping back into the water.

The water was incredibly warm. We had life jackets, slipped into the water and started playing about. You could lift your hands out of the water, hold them to the stars, and have your hands dripping with stars of their own. It was terrific. Some of you may know that I have something of a penchant for glowing sea life, even having penned a (still incomplete) suite of music on the subject. For me, this was a life long fantasy.

On a darker note our time in PR was coming to an end and meant that we were uinable to visit the town of Ponce. I therefore do not have the money shot of myself posing in Ponce. I feel ashamed and that I have let my father down.

We spent our last night in PR in luxury at the Mariott Isla Verde on the beach with the pool, great room and short hop to the airport. We were gutted to leave Puerto Rico. We would also recommend it to anybody.

Hodad at Sun Bay. A Hodad is someone who pretends to surf. It is also the name for our axe.
Chillin´ at Isla Verde
The Esperanza malecon waterfront on Vieques

A tour of the island

2008-08-09T12:10:00.001-07:00

We went out to the famous Nuyorican live salsa bar and watched Magda dance with a succession of hopeful Ricky-wanna-bes, but she was a little disappointed. Rafi had set her up with an amazing dance teacher from the Loiza festival so we know she has a better partner at least to practice with. Rafi made us weird and wonderful drinks in the Candela bar. We relaxed in the hotel, Casa Candela, with Pablo´s collection of paintings of his old record label activities. We saw the San Juan sights, including the kite flying at El Morro, the castle grassland where families unfurled. We thought of the Kiterunner. And took pictures that didn´t capture the kites in all their glory. We stayed up until 3AM drinking every night because it was Old San Juan - we didn´t even make it to the after hours sessions.

And then Rafi. Hee hee hee. He is a cheeky chappy no doubt. Old enough to know better and with the manic enthusiasm of one a little unhinged. Charming, generous, funny. We were very lucky. He came up with the plan for us to go to see his family on Sunday. The morning came and, after about an hour´s sleep, he was too wasted to drive. I took the wheel once we had found the car, and then it wasn´t long before we were on the highway being pulled over by the boys in blue. It transpired that the Rafimobile had rear wheels that looked more like weebles. The rozzers belived his explanation that his telemetry was safe after a bump on a sleeping policeman, and after recovering from the embaressment of not being able to follow the spanish instructions from the police loud hailer as it tried to pull us off the motorway, we were back on the road. Rafi showed us his 700usd of unpaid tickets under the seat, we laughed and sped on.

We drove around the wild forests of El Yunque and eventually arrived at Palmas Del Mar. Rafi´s sister is PR PR, publicist to governers, celebs, musos and the like, and their holiday place for 10 years has been in PR´s exclusive gated community. Big luxury development, glorious beach, happy kids everywhere, Rafi´s nephews running amok, a bit of body surfing, and his sister being a wonderful hostess. We dined out near Fajardo and said goodbye to Rafi, who selflessly drove us around to make sure we had a nice place to stay - well, there was still a lot of love in our hotel but maybe nightly not by the hour.

And we prepared for the real wonders...

Kites over El Morro
Rafi has some explaining to do
The view inside the hip Casa Candela

New friends in Old San Juan

2008-08-09T11:53:00.000-07:00

Well strictly speaking it was Magda that we met properly first. Though there are a few more things you should know about PR before we begin.

Puerto Rico and New York have a strong connection. There are lots of Puerto Ricans who have lived on the mainland. Their accents could be from anywhere in the states. And they speak spanish and english. And they call each other (guys) "cabarone" meaning cuckold. And they know they are Puerto Rican. There is a strong sense of identity and lifestyle. And in the heat of it, it is obvious why. Yet before we opened the book I would have had trouble pining it on a map.

J-Lo, the ex-Ms Affleck, star of Gigli, the very same Jenny from the block is Nuyorican, a Puerto Rican but one that has lived her whole life in NY. Marc Anthony (not the Cleopatra one) is from PR, as are numerous baseball players and boxers.

And so is... Ricky Martin. And Magda works for Ricky Martin. We feel like he is pretty much one of the family as Magda has him on speed dial - well, she works for the Ricky Martin Foundation, doing good on behalf of the sweaty, leather-trousered one, and helping the young and disadvantaged. Magda is tall, blonde and Polish and hoping for a steady job with Ricky. Meanwhile she was staying at our hotel, Casa Candela, enjoying the benefits of living above the Calle San Sebastian, the coolest street in town, filled with bars, salsa and revelry - and not unlike the Bairro Alto in Lisbon.

Within minutes we were discussing the festival we had read about in Loiza along the coast and how hard it was to get there and how no one knew about it. And then Rafi, our barman, our hero, appeared. With a flash he has rounded us up, grabbed some water bottles, found the car, and we were on our way to Loiza. We caught the tail end of the local afro festival of masks. We were just in time to see the booty shaking-conga-dance off. Chaps with congas spat out pulsating, earthy soca rhythms while ladies of various shapes, sizes and ages took it in turns to second guess the drummers´ syncopations, syncronising their ass-and-milkshakes with the beats. Each dance off became a battle as the lady would close in, threatening the skinsman with fluttering flesh. It was at times a frightening spectacle. And then there were also blokes with colourful masks. We were the only tourists around and everyone was having a great laugh. Rafi took us back to the old town, set us up in a nice restaurant and we realised, that as long as we threw financial caution to the wind, we were in for a great week.

Old San Juan
Loiza festy action
The view from Casa Candela

White, black, Puerto Rican...

2008-08-09T11:28:00.000-07:00

...everybody just-a-freakin´

We opened our new copy of LP Puerto Rico and our faces dropped at the opening gambit "there is no budget accomodation in Puerto Rico", "PR is not a country for budget travellers".

Oh dear (well actually "oh bollocks") we thought (Anna has some strange verbal quirks and a very unusual vocabulary for a non-native English speaker) and we created a vague plan to see San Juan and maybe go to one of PR´s islands. As usual we put the best foot forward, found a cheap hotel tip and pitched up at San Juan.

PR isn´t a country at all. It is a tone of thought. Well, it´s actually an American dependency, the 51st state, not a state, they vote in the primaries, but can´t vote for the president, they don´t pay federal tax, but they are subject to federal law. And they like it that way - about 65% are happy to be a dependency. The whole North of the island is a sprawling metropolis, there is little public transport, car culture everywhere, some security issues like any US city and then the really good stuff - but we didn´t really know about that when we arrived at 1AM after a double delay and missed flight out of Miami which no longer has a transit terminal, multiplying change times exponentially.

So, taxi to Old San Juan, hotel address, no hotel. Dark, late, cobbled streets, attractive, just around the corner from the dangerous La Perla part of town, hotel owner not answering the phone to the cost of about 50euros, panic is maybe 5 minutes away. The lads in the nearest doorway are somehow inviting. They are musicians, there is a studio visible in the front room and they are very, very nice. Already I realise that we coud crash on the floor if our hotel doesn´t exist. Promo guy is already on the phone, knows our innkeeper, he´s called a cab to check there is someone there before getting us. Guitar guy gives us a few riffs. Bass player girlfriend hangs. Smoking and drinking is going on in the street. And this turns out to be the home of PR rock minor legends Viva Nativa - and they are a very nice bunch.

It´s still not over though. We arrive at a bar. And then some confusion as the barman leaves his post, replete with pumping nu-jazz, and takes us around the corner to the hotel. And then it all becomes clear. It is not really a hotel. Pablo, a well known promoter and friend to our local nu-jazzers Nuspirit Helsinki, owns a couple of bars and now this private guest house. Some people online had posted about no staff and not being able to check in in the morning. That´s because the owner and manager (our barman, our hero) are up until 5AM drinking every night. So, 2AM was the perfect time to check in. It all made sense. We had the big room at the top with en suite, balcony overlooking greater San Juan, which we ditched for a cheaper one the second night. I still had time to wind down by going downstairs and finding some local lads for a few beers before retiring.

In the morning, we saw the view from the roof, the seductive charms of the hilly, tight, cobbles of Old San Jaun, and we breakfasted for the first of many times at St Germain, the relaxed brasserie that warmed us with fancies that would even have been treats back home.

But Anna still wasn´t convinced. In fact, disturbed by the contrast between our room´s bright wightwashed walls and the layers of dirt on the floor, she was insisting, and we were seriously considering, bailing.

But then... enter... Rafi :)

Surf city

2008-08-09T11:13:00.000-07:00

With a few days to go before our flight out of Costa Rica we reasoned that due to known factors (high prices, development, westernisation, profusion of American holidaymakers) Costa Rica would not be for us. So we took the chance to visit the Nicaraguan surf town of San Juan del Sur. We pitched up on the chicken bus and had trouble finding a room, eventually landing in the local surf-bum-shack. Definately the shakiest room we have had (would have blown away on Little Corn) there was definately a laid back vibe with the lads playing computer games, wet suits everywhere and the pets patrolling the ground floor. I found one of the tiny tortoises staring down both the dog and the cat at the same time. We ate enormous pizza, swam on San Juan´s great beach, didnt have time to explore the surrounds, but understood how it would be easy to lose weeks there.

We took a pricey cross border bus direct to San Jose in Costa Rica but still had to spend a couple of hours at the border and we went straight to the Pangea hostel, a backpacker dream according to the bible, and also a Miles Davis album, and pre-historic continent to boot. Nightmare morelike. Not bad in a persoal security or dirty way. But my god. It looked a prison. The rooms were tiny, pokey and dark, like prison. There was a fast food restaurant with (albeit free) stand up Internet terminals. You had to wear club style entry wrist bands and endure avergely unpumping averagely uninspiring music. And pay extortionate amounts for extras. It was a traveller distopia. It was positively Orwellian. In Oz people get shuttled from hostel to hostel only to exit the hostel for the obligatory bar hopping tour (unless there is an in-hostel bar like this place had). This was a nightmare for us, only made worse by the sound of shrieking American youth at all hours. Trying ont to generalise we have noted regularly how our North American cousins will enter a room or quiet area and begin to whisper. But then once a certain threshold has been reached they will ramp it and scream the same old dull small talk as if that has been the atmosphere of the room/terrace/bar/restaurant/recital/mosque all along. Guys - give it a rest. Put a sock in it - as the old man would have suggested.

Oh but we are weak. Because of the westernisation of Costa Rica it was very easy for us to spend money on shopping for bikinis, books and other travelling essentials. Just lik every time we end up spending in a non-native owned hotel or restaurant, we felt dirty.

The real reason I don´t like Costa Rica is because the snakes took my two spare sets of guitar strings off me at security check. The seventh flight and now they take my strings - arseholes!

La chica enjoys senset at San Juan before massive pizza
Backgammon on the InterAmerican highway waiting for the bus out of Nicaragua

Nicaraguan wonders

2008-08-09T10:56:00.000-07:00

Again, taking some advice from our gurus, Alex and Iris, we realised we should buy at least something before leaving CA, and so, in spite of pack weights, we set off for Masaya, in search of the crafts capital of the region. Weighed down by my constant babble about ´being the Masaya´ and how ´ony the true Masaya denies his divinity´ we made it to the hammock city, even though we had come to the only tourist town in the world with no maps for tourists to find the workshops, markets, galleries and peddlars that are the town´s lifeblood. We bought a hammock. I failed to convince Anna of the need to purchase a hoop of my people (feathery round thing unfortunately used hanging from the rear view mirror in these parts, but originally a very important symbol for native american Indians, representing the life of the tribe. I have just read Black Elk Speaks, pitched as a native american Indian bible, which details the last stands of the North American Indians before their betrayal and butchery and removal from their lands. But I also like the feathers.). And we went to the evening dance show in the market. It was weird because it was mostly Nicaraguan families in from Managua having a night out drinking. The show was a faux traditional shambles. Nice masks. Rock band to finish. 40 left feet on stage. Pity the shoemaker.

And then we went to Lake Nicaragua and the twin volcanic isand of Omotepe. We had presumed that Omotepe was going to be cheap but it is being overrun with foreign owned posadas, big hotels, and a transport system whereby American toursists pay 25usd for a taxi so the 25 taxi drivers think that everyone will pay it. As it is difficult to get around the accomodations are far apart we took a recommendation and stayed at El Encanto. We were very pleasantly surprised. Just five rooms, hillside, glorious views of the two volcanos, 200m down to the end of the long beach on the lake, amazingly rich garden, giant frogs blocking the path at night, fireflies, butterflies, ancient petroglyphs on rocks dotted around, lovely terrace, big hammocks, lovely-if-pricey food, bikes, and a great vibe. Even when the very-loud-American-groups arrived the next day we still couldn´t be shaken from our peace. We swam in the lake, got wet in the afternoon rain, biked to the swimming springs, walked the garden, and should´ve changed the guitar´s strings.

Is this the ferry?
Omotepe's volcanos
El Encanto - we had about 20 wasp`s nests in our bathroom but didn`t notice amid the glorious setting

More good stuff in Nicaragua

2008-08-09T10:46:00.000-07:00

We came away from Little Corn feeling it was one of the best places we had ever been and one of the nicest weeks, even though we had had the most atrocious weather imaginable - the place is that cool. When we got back to Managua airport we had a mission with the American Airlines desk there.

You see a few week prior we had tried to confirm all our flight dates. We had requested all our open dates by email with Finnair but we had got a few nasty suprises. We could only get wait-listed to and from New Caledonia, we couldn´t get any flights before November between Rio and Santiago, and worse, Costa Rica (San Juan) to Puerto Rico (San Jose) did not exist; American Airlines did not have the route. This was very confusing and annoying for us as we had a blank ticket for the flight. Finnair told us the route was scheduled to start in the future - which didn´t do us any favours as we were holding a ticket for a plane that didn´t fly. We would have uncovered this mistake if we had booked dummy dates for all our flights but we had also presumed that our rep had checked when we said we would probably fly this one on July 17th.

Anyway, we came up with the plan to ditch the Rio-Santiago flight and use that segment to fly via Miami to Puerto Rico. The big change being that we would have to make it overland around all of Peru, Bolivia, Brasil, Argentina and to Chile. The other issue was that, by the terms of our round-the-world ticket we would have to fork out 125eur each for a route change and ticket reissue.

The AA lady at Managua airport was veru sympathetic, said they knew nothing about flying one day direct from San Jose to San Juan, and started making the necessary arrangements. After faxing, photographing and emailing our tickets to HQ in Mexico and about 4 hours of faffing, she had nailed all our flights (including settling a duplicatation of New Caledonia flights that Finnair had missed), got all the dates confirmed and then announced that we would have to pay... nada. It was all free. Whether be oversight, sympathy or fortune we didn´t even have to pay additional taxes and avoided any charge and reissue fee - and some airlines (Quantas) charge 15usd for every date faff.

For the Deli tour completists, and those still considering joining us (there must be some you left out there) I will put the dates here shortly...

Little Corn

2008-08-09T10:25:00.000-07:00

We flew from Managua to the Corn Islands, the Nicaraguan islands in the Caribbean. We knew that Little Corn was a must-see backpacker destination and after researching the overland route (12 hour bus, 4 hour speedboat, 7 hour ferry - 3 days total) with no recommendations we opted for the plane.

We got busted for excess baggage on the way to Big Corn and then changed to the local speed boat for the crossing to Little Corn. This hour long journey was charaterised by the taking of seasickness pills and the large plastic sheet which we had to cling onto for dear life along with the other 20 passengers to avoid being drenched by the bow wave as flew over the swelling sea, smacking hard after every wave. Luckily we had also read the passage in the big book about grabbing the life jackets to sit on them in deterrence of arse-ache, and also sitting in the back of the boat, to avoid the sensation that one is forever on the edge of ejection and familiarity with Davy Jones´ locker.

Little Corn is a tiny island, walkable in 45 mins, with a village of a few thousand, and posadas (guest houses mostly with cabanas) dotted around the beaches on the coastline. It is no longer remote or uindiscovered and the pricing was a bit strong but we struck a deal for a really nice new beachfront cabana (stilts, own bathroom, balcony, hammock, sofa, good roof) with Elsa on the backside of the island.

We spent a week at Little Corn at Elsa´s and it was heaven for us. There was small issue. It rained every day. Not just a little bit. In fact it stormed every day. We were woken by thunder at 2, 3, 5 AM and the lightening storms were regular, spectacular and pretty mean. The thunder was the loudest we have ever heard. But the water was warm, there was time for snorkelling, to explore the island, pick wild fruit, befriend the resident kittens who lived in cabana number 4, feed the scawny abandoned kitten (who we hope the others´ mother has adopted), write songs, read, and just enjoy it.

Little Corn was perfect for us and we met some lovely other people. The Belgians were back - now holding the record for most meetings on the gringo trail with the Deli crew. We got to know Siguri and Rodolpho (yes, his parents had a sense of rumour) much better, we met the dreadlocked-matching-head-torch-Austrian couple with the quality AliG shades, and we met the worse backgammon players in living memory; Alex and Iris. Actually they are the only couple we have ever played against, they had the same set we had bought in India all those years ago - with the dodgy non-symmetrical dice - and, being German, they were going round the world the other way, so we were robbed of more of their company. But they had time to set us straight on a few things; most important of which is that the Galapagos islands are a must, not an option. And they filled us in on some places in Brasil around Salvador, Alex offered me his hair shaver (I am still regretting not induging) and Iris had us rolling in the aisles (or in the isles in this case) with her impressions of Cambodian family tea and beer (and spittle) sharing rituals.

And we met an army of Finns, connected to the Finnish Solidarity organisation that evaluates Finnish origin NGO projects and then we went to Big Corn for the day. And we wished we had gone for longer. We found the beaches were vast and empty, it was easy to get around on the local bus, there was a bit more choice (with budget options) for food and then we found Anastacia´s; a hotel (which we didn´t know about beforehand so we didn´t stay there) a jetty, to a big bar, with the most fantastic snorkelling off the back. It was too far for us to swim to the wreck but we spent a few hours checking out amazing coral walls and the abundant marine life.

Miss Elsa´s on Little Corn´s backside
Hut number 7
Back in training after snorkelling off Anastacia´s on Big Corn
Big Corn. Words failed us.

A missed opportunity

2008-08-09T10:16:00.000-07:00

We nearly always have a camera with us and, though we are not trigger happy, we have managed over 1900 photos so far. One thing I wish I had been able to capture has been the profusion and variety of footy pitches; particularly those we have seen from the roadside as we plough past on the chicken bus.

Pipes, including curved corners, brought fom the suv on the beachfront; the litter strewn marsh to rock of Caye Caulker; the holidaymaker mini nets inflated for the kids on La Ensenada beach on Saturday. The real fascination for me was with the pitches on 20 degree slopes, the minature pitches with huge stick goals, the well groomed end-of-runway bowling green pitch with nets, the pitch overgrown with 150cm weeds but with nets, goals with wooden posts that must be the only straight beams i the village, crossbars of tape, crossbars of rope, y-shaped stantions, plastic pipe stantions to bind the wooden posts, swamp pitches, tiny ones, huge ones, roadside dirt ones, the gleaming watered pitches of Costa Rica... And the stadium in tiny San Marcos where we saw a commotion and waited around to see the annual clash of the two young village teams, including the procession of the queens with their crowns, the announcer you could hear across the lake, and with ten goals - it finished 6-4 and we only saw the first goal!

San Marcos nil, San Marcos... er... nil

Leon, first taste of Nicaragua

2008-08-09T10:06:00.000-07:00

Leon, the Nicaraguan city, was a great intro to a new country. It was small, friendly, cheap, had a gringo zone that could be avoided, and had a certain vibe about it. Already on the first Nica buses the locals had been friendly and chatting away. We arrived in the rain with Anna not feeling too good and all the obvious gringo accom booked. I trapsed about in the rain and found a room in the back of a sports bar. El Cedro (the Cider House AKA Shark Bar) turned out to be a good stroke. Canadian Jack was our host and was a very good cook - whenever we went elsewhere we were disappointed. The bar out front had a good mix of young locals and long term foreign residents and the room was basic, cheap, clean and quiet.

We dug Leon the same way we dug Oaxaca. Just walking around, digging the vibe, enjoying hanging out. And it was here that was the famous backgammon plan was formed. So I should update you. Well, on the first day I wiped the floor with my opponents, but it was all for points, so just practice. That night Anna and I played. Anna played with a hitherto unseen zeal, presumably subconsciuosly acutely aware that our holiday money was connected, and she wiped the floor with me, winning 7 consecutive games.

The next day I skulked back to the Internet cafe and though I should warm up with some points games before parting with real cash. And I couldn´t buy a game. I lost to everyone, in every way. I lost all the points I had won the day before, even against rank beginners. It really was a disaster. So I totally bottled playing for money! I should add that since then Anna has won here first ever series-of-series-of-series but I am still well ahead in the rankings (she insists on keeping score!).

Leon, where big hair meets big street art

Bay Island blues

2008-08-09T09:50:00.000-07:00

After the highs and lows of La Ensenada we thought about trying another village but felt that we had our perfect experience. The obvious thing to do was to get back on the gringo trail so we got o the boat to the budget-dive-island of Utila, still part of Honduras. And we didn´t heed advice and take sea-sickness pills.

The boat was a motor catarmaran. The sea was rough afternoon. There was pitching, but there was also yawing. There was so much movement in all directions. And the sides of the boat were non-transparent tarps so you couldn´t see out and get a fix on the horizon or land. The journey was only just over an hour. Within ten minutes my shorts and b-ball top (still thanking Per!) were soaked through with sweat and I realised something was up. The crew were scanning the 50 or so passengers readey with bags and towels. Then it began. I was puking so much for the next 45 minutes I didn´t even notice that Anna had joined in the fun along ith about 20 others. My hands were numb, my body was weak, and when we arrived I couldn´t get off the boat for about 20 minutes. Then I had to lay on the dock for another 45 minutes, still throwing up. Oh, I was a sight. Meanwhile Anna scored us a great room at Ruby´s, with a lovely bathroom, kitchenette across the courtyard, jetty with late night rays, and the lovely cats, MC (coincidental note to Warnocks) and Baby, who was blind, so had the most incredibly piercing green eyes. MC stole the yank fisher guy´s steak shark bait and we fed Baby sweet milk. But I couldn´t really do anything for 2 days. But the beach and snorkelling were great. Anna still has the jellyfish sting scar on her upper arm.

Our rooms usually look something like this. This was a nice one
Anna befriends parrot on Utila beach. Jamie loses job.

The Cuban connection

2008-08-09T09:18:00.000-07:00

You see, just like the book says, most travellers tend to fly through, or skip, Honduras, except for the cheap diving courses on the Bay Islands. So we thought that we would head for the North coast´s Garifuna villages to get off the gringo trail and find paradise - and we kinda did.

On the way through the Honduras with Laurent & Laura filling our heads with stories of (his) primitive pastoral lifestyle high in the Swiss Alps, we hit a local bus price protest outside San Pedro (AKA the AIDs capital of central america). After a quick chat up of an off duty minibus driver in yours truly´s awful spanglish, and with Laurent roping in some other stranded Frenchies, we were able to slip through the waning picket line with only a few gruff looks from the protesters. Anna and I then went to Tela, where our room for the night had an open window - altogether we had a cricket, 4 cockroaches and in the morning we found one scorpion (he had stuck to the Heath Robinson gaffa tape device I had tried to block the window with), and we moved on to the randomly chosen Garifuna village of La Ensenada.

The villages dot the Caribbean coast from Belize to Panama and are made of Creole speaking descendents of slaves that were exiled from Roatan back in the day. There is a lot of poverty, basic subsistence living (fishing), basic tourist facilities, a few weekending local tourists, and in our experience, no gringos.

We arrived and did our classic luggage/accom manouver: we piled up the bags and one of us went off to scout all available lodging for the best deal for a week. We do this whenever we can basically because our bags are just too heavy to lug around! After meeting local-man-with-a-certain-quality, Gary, and seeing a mixted bag of overpriced or scummy rooms about three different people had pointed towards the Cuban, the last house on the beach. I came back beaming to tell Anna. I couldn´t believe it. Lovely big house on stilts, garden to the beach, big bedroom, sound of the waves, big kitchen, lounge with TV and stereo, and the owner and his partner who take guests because they have two spare rooms and like the company. And it was cheap (10usd a night). It was too good to be true. This was where coud spend 2, 3 weeks, even longer.

La Ensenada has about 200 residents, one tiny shop, about 5 palapas (shacks) serving food (you can have anything you want as long as its fried fish, rice and beans), most of the locals living in huts (mostly Pepsi sponsored) a couple of nice small hotels (empty) and four nice houses (all owned by the Cuban) on the beach - which, by the way, is a gorgeous arc of sand with rainforest at one end and stretches into the distance.

We lasted three days in the end, including watching the Euro final in the village shop. There was a classic side show when Gary reappeared, very drunk. The village shop had a young scrawny kitten that Anna had been giving some milk too during the footy, and Gary turned up and started getting very dramatic, and very, very camp, with the owner about taking away the cat. He was all swaying head, skinny torso, black painted nails, kitten kidnapping and rolling drunk (warning non-PC section)- and distracting me from the serious business of kraut-baiting. But it was all worthwhile when the shopkeeper leaned over to me and confided in me that Gary was ´batty man´ in rich creole pattoir. Yes, he really was the only gay in the village.

On the second morning we were both in the water looking back at the house, the forest, along at the beach, up at the blue sky; in soft, clear, gentle water; and we really were there. We really had arrived. It was truly magical. But a few hours later Anna came out of the water with a jellyfish sting. I spent some time on the Cuban´s internet to ensure that she about to make proper use of her urine. I didn´t watch. Anna got some bad cramps and muscle aches for a few hours after but no fever luckily. Later that day the true state of the kitchen also dawned on us. It turned out that the Cuban and partner spent all day in bed and drove the half hour to eat in Tela most evenings. They bought a lot of food, and vitamins (you have never seen so many power and pump pill bottles - and the big ones too) but left it to rot. The kitchen stank, there were fruit flies buzzing around black bananas, the floor thick with dust, gubbins everywhere and it was a real struggle to wade in and make something.

On our last morning we had a chat with Alfredo, our portly retiree host, that explained a few things. His partner, to who he lovingly referred as ´This One´ (as in ´not the other one who was 18´) was only 17 when they met, ´a few months ago´. There were five video recorders and no videos in the lounge (why have the videos elsewhere?), there were some fairly graphic images on his PC, ´This One´ clearly had other interests (fitting for a teenager) other than home building, and Alfie clearly only had interests in the bedroom. We felt dirty, the place was dirty, paradise ahd been tainted by an ex-pat exploiting ´their need for a father figure´. And the house, and the beach, and the village were wonderful. It was a bit sad. But funny, for everyone except for This One´s parents, probably.

La Ensenada bussling as ever
The beach backed by rainforest at tusk
The sting

Really cosmic Guatemala

2008-08-08T15:45:00.000-07:00

Lake Atitlan has been on the gringo trails for many moons and is also now part owned by North Americans who have created some spectacular holiday homes on its banks. Panajachel was our first sight of the lake. It had a sports bar (Holland wasn´t it?) and good shopping and a relaxed vibe. We got the launch to San Marcos, famous for being a hippy hang out. One of the smallest and arguably most charming villages on the lake, San Marcos is unique because the bottom half of the village is filled with posadas (hostels) that are linked by tight leafy alleyways. It is like a fairytale, especially at dusk (or ´tusk´ as Anna called once, which I won´t let her forget:)) when the wailing of several local women starts. It is spooky, accompanied by some bells, and definately adds to the cosmic vibe. There is a yoga resort made out of pyramids, and our place, La Paz, had a yoga hall, Mayan sauna and good food. The Mayan sauna was brick, low, fired by wood outside, and you put water on the metal of the oven inside. It was only warm but very sweaty, which was good. The manager of the hostel we named Kinky Bill, after his T-shirt, which was suitably prophetic as it transpired he was known for walking around naked and walking in on sauna-ing visitors. There was a little security problem in the surrounding hills, which one long term gringo dealt with by always carrying a cricket bat - not unlike Ian {mandolin strings in Austin) Faith.

We swam in the lake, we met Germans, we met the Belgians again, Anna went to Yoga, I spanked axe. It was very cool. And we met Lauren and Laura, the multi-lingual Swiss-English couple, famous for giving us the Kiterunner (ace book), who we should have given Middlesex (similarly ace book) but hadn´t finished it yet.

Just when L&L thought they had lost us, we ended up on the bus out of Pana with them, and while they went onwards, we went local, via Antigua, the duff town of Chichimula (Chikki) for the Honduran border. At Copan, we didn´t bother seeing the ruins or the butterfly sanctuary but, within 5 minutes of arriving we saw the Grangers and Ficeland again, and when we went to buy bus tickets, Laurent´s de}readlocked permagrin was there to meet us. Around this time Central America started to feel very cosy. And we were in Honduras and I had a plan...

Always the search for...
The view across Lake Atitlan
Anna takes a dip late in the day

Slightly more cosmic Guatemala

2008-08-08T15:32:00.000-07:00

At Earth Lodge we met the lovely, though Northern, Granger family. Mother Emily and toddler Toby sayed at the lodge torturing the residents while daughter Ishabel (13) and father Bananaman accompanied us on the tour of the Pacaya volcano.

Oh how Adi and (Emily´s cousin and Earth Lodge manageress) Lucy must have been creasing when they handed over the bag of rainwear to Bob. It wasnt until we arrived in the van at the foot of Pacaya that he realised he was about to climb a volcano in a bright custard yellow, all-in-one, light plastic jump suit, that was about 3 sizes too small for his lanky frame (I think I am qualified to use the term ´lanky´ by the way).

Did we offer to wait and reupholster him, or have a whip round, or canvas for alternatives - No. I promptly christened him Bananaman and sang the Banana Splits theme tune and mouthed other assorted witicisms, which needn´t lower the tone of this blog, all the way to the top.

And my god it was the most dangerous thing we have ever done. In some reference literature it does mention people have been hurt and died doing this but you don´t really realise that until you are standing in an active lava field, you feet are warming, you can see red hot rock in between the cracks and fissures of fragile, twisted lava rock beneath your feet, and you can see an actual moving lava flow about 150 meters away. Oh and there is smoke bollowing out behind, intermittent hissing, the guide can only manage to keep the group of 10 within 100 yards of each other (useless!) and there are other tour groups of panicing americans taking flight at random trajectories across the flow as they realise how totally ridiculous this is. Of course, the ones in shorts and flip flops are getting melting plastic soles, warm legs, singed leg hair, and the occaisional nasty cut from rock as the scramble as the brittle lava rock beneath them gives way, breaks away, or causes slips.

Anyway, it was wikked and there was still plenty of time to get a few super hero poses out of Bananaman.
Never in a month of sundaes!

Cosmic Guatemala

2008-08-08T15:18:00.000-07:00

Arriving in Antigua, Guatemala was a bit odd. On the surface it is one of the most charming large towns in central america. Wide cobbled streets, safe, easily walkable, every restaurant with a lovely courtyard, interesting museums, good shopping, sensible prices, loads of excursion options, and those amazing volcanos that you can see rising from the end of every street, that help you orientate.

Unfortunately, Antigua is also gringo city. There is fast food (bad), a good guitar shop (good), long queues with tourists for the ATMs (bad), good food (good), loud obnoxious hostels (bad), language schools (good) - but why would anyone try to learn immersive spanish in a town where everyone is from Maine, Malmo or Manchester?

So we stayed a night and then shipped out to Earth Lodge. Perched on a hillside 20 minutes outside of Antigua, in a village accessed by 2 daily buses, requiring a final 2km walk along the hillside where vehicles can no longer pass in the rainy season; Earth Lodge is a US owned avocado farm with accom for 15 in stilted apex rooved cabins. Oh and every cabin has a view across the valley beside Antigua of three towering volcanos. We saw ´Fuego´ erupt two night running - it was awesome. We did nothing but eat resident Israeli chef Adi´s wonderful veggie food, help ourselves to the open bar, and start a backgammon school. I did also have to day trip to Antigua to fix my nut*

But it was 2 weeks before avocado harvest. Like the dolphins that are waiting for us somewhere, we will still have to wait for those fresh avos that we adorned; the prime reason anna wanted to go there! There were also four great cats; the ginger fell off the tin roof with delight as we tickled him and Baby purred. Anna had acupuncture. I spent 3 hours filing my new nut and fitting it and it works - hoorah - a first for me. I was helped by a lift into town from a comedy German withe most messed up VW camper I have ever been in. We discussed music (his touring with Captain Sensible), religion, politics and the vintage VW yard on the edge of town. He had been mugged walking there once so I didn´t go. He took frequent calls from his ex-language students as he had just been sacked. We drank coffee in the sun and talked nuts. And just as was about to start wandering around aimlessly I bumped into fellow San Blas Social Club members, Greg and Elise, for the first time since San Blas. They insisted we start afternoon drinking. We laughed a lot. They showed my photos, including Greg accidentally showing me one of his ´art´ pics that featured an unknowing Elise. We laughed a lot more. It was a good day.

Just part of the awesome view from Earth Lodge
The Earth Lodge cabins

The wilds of Belize and Guatemala

2008-08-08T15:13:00.000-07:00

Quick recap
Belize; the ATM cave; named after all the cash you have to get out to see it; Altun Maa probably; waist deep water; swimming in the entrance; precarious mini climbs; only possibly by standing on the guide; only possible for Anna because of borrowing Ficeland´s Crocs (at last a use for them); the big Germans were there and we love them; we walked through ancient Mayan pottery fused into the living rock; at the end there was a skeleton; cool and scary; we felt very adventurous and got very wet.

Guatemala; El Remate we met the Belgians and Per and Marie; we swam in the lake; pigs played on the basketball court; the hotel owner persuaded us to do the dawn tour.

Tikal; expecting a small party we joined 70 tired individuals on the dawn tour; and some of them yapped far too much; we climbed temple four; we sat and waited for the clouds to break; monkeys called; tempes appeared in the mist; eventually the party shut up for 5 minutes; we climbed other temples; met the nice New Zealanders.

The view from the mirador of Semuc Champey´s pools was well worth the climb
This is an awful picture from Tikal´s temple 5. It was high up

Blog day afternoon

2008-08-08T15:11:00.000-07:00

There were lots of reasons not to blog - but now we are back.

Don´t try to read it all at once.

And you should know that we had to abandon the BG for money plan when I lost all my matches on the second practice day.

I had written a load of guff here but a gremlin has swiped it. Suffice to say we are rocking now - the following posts were written in two monster sessions over 12 hours in Merida, Venezuela.

Cheers, MC Deli and Miss Deli

To blog or not to blog...

2008-07-17T16:02:00.000-07:00

Again time has spent in the Internet cafe here in Masaya, the artisan capital of Nicaragua. I could have been telling you about the most amazing place we have been (Little Corn Island), about the worst week of weather imaginable (Little Corn Island), about the best snorkel since Oz (Big Corn), or about the rather nice quesillos that Anna had last night.

But no, I have been burning back up photo DVDs, updating the all-important stats, writing that guidebook forum posting I think about every night (at last life can go on)... and anyway, before I do write again, I have to warn you that from now on the blog is likely to go astray. I will use the first person at times, as sometimes Anna won´t be looking over my shoulder and the content might not be our collective opinion, and I also may wander into off topic areas. You have been warned.

I should just note that we miss everyone terribly. We are very sad to have missed and be missing new arrivals, weddings, summer, comings and goings, and friends and family generally. We are so lucky to have met some really lovely people on the road but we also wish it was some of you, dear readers, that we could bump into next time we board the chicken bus, shop for a hammock or sit for another breakfast of huevos revoltos and gallo pinto.

Backgammon

2008-07-06T18:39:00.000-07:00

I was going to spend a few hours today and tomorrow updating the blog.

But...

We were just having a light lunchtime snack and a drink in Via Via in Leon, Nicaragua, and we had a series of backgammon. You should know that we have completed our first series of series of series and we are now on to our second. A series is first to 5. Double games, gammons and backgammons count as extra games.

Anyway, coincidentally we are also a bit behind on the budget, though our time in Honduras was just about on the money.

Now, as regular readers will know, Miss Deli is the brains in this operation, and over lunch, and after a good BG thrashing (t must be said) she proposed that yours truly get online and take a look at playing for money.

So, I just tried a warm up on the biggest site, Party Poker´s BG thing, not playing for real cash. In nearly three hours I won a few series to 7 (all 7-0) and a few individual games. I only lost the first due to a few errors with the interface (to which Miss Deli will gladly bear witness). After lengthy training with JC since age 6 and plenty of practice with Nick Clyne and Jes (they deserve mentions for their valuable schooling), and now over 200 games between the clan Deli in the last few months, MC Deli could not be better prepared. I even read a book on it once:)

Tomorrow we were planning a blog day. But it wll now be BG Day. And the Delicatessen is going to see how some of the real cash players like it. You will be kept informed. Fingers crossed. Love to all.

MC Delicatessen

Pictures!

2008-06-16T13:33:00.000-07:00

Yes - there are pictures

And we have to do one after 5 hours of Internet use!

Laters people

The adventure begins

2008-06-16T11:13:00.000-07:00

So, Indian Jones 4 is out at the movies, we have been told it ain't all that, and coincidentally we embarked on the most action packed adventurous week of our trip so far. We hummed the theme tune a lot, and we weren't humming that we were still stuck on Mahoney's theme, having seen the Belizean Police Academy just outside thhe capital, Belmopan. But that's not important right now.

We caved in San Ignacio in Belize, we climbed and marvelled at the Tikal ruins over the border in Guatemala, we swam in lake Peten Itza, and we cascaded and caved again in Semuc Champey near Coban surrounded by the majesty of the Guatemalan Alta Veracruz mountainous countryide.

We joined a lot of tours to do this stuff, which is unlike us, but having good guides enabled us to do and see stuff that wasn't otherwise possible, as we will explain a little later. Moreover, we probably had a bit of a group mentality aruond this time because of some lovely people we met. And meeting great people has been a real bonus.

From the first time we saw them at the Oceanside kareoke on Caye Caulker, to realising they were in the next cabin to us at Marin's, then the boat back to Belize city, then the bus to San Ignacio, then staying at Hi-Et, then going on the ATM cave tour, then crossing the Guatemala border, then staying in the next room in El Remate's Sun Breeze, then the dawn Tikal tour, then the bus to Flores, then them having the deluxe suite above us in Casa de Lacandon in Flores - we spent most of 5 lovely days in the company of Paulo and Marc, the Cuddly German Couple with the incredible ancestry - via Cape Verde, Spain, Brasil, Bavaria and now hailing from Dusseldorf.

Just as Marc and Paulo had to start heading back to Mexico before returning to the Fatherland we caught sight of the enemy in El Remate. Smiling along at the sight of their victory against Greece in the Euros, we met the evil Swedish couple. Except of course they weren't: evil or a couple. Marie and Per (you can pronounce it how you want - he doesn't care) are the Svensk Super Siblings that we have a feeling we might still know many moons from now. We have just had to say goodbye to them (in Coban, central Guatemal) as they have a sailing trip to do back up to Belize where Marie has been studying. From El Remate, we did the Tikal sunrise tour, bus to Flores, Happy Bean breakfast, Freddie-Mercury-jazz-guitar-dinner, bus to Semuc Champey, the amazing Semuc Champey pools and waterfalls (which we might not have considered seeing if Per hadn't got us excited about them), the Lanquin caves and then the bus to Coban, and finally dinner and breakfast at the lovely Casa D'Acuna.

Marie will be remembered for her distaste for guidebooks (especially the LP Central America as carried by 95% of all tourists anywhere - more later) until the final morning when she was photographed taking notes from the bible (as it is known) while Per read aloud. Meanwhile Per will be remebered for his shopping; in particular his ability to seek and then miraculously find 1984 vintage Casio digital wrist-wear, and one dollar basketball shirts.

These two may also have had a profound effect on our future. We have an inkling of something we might do when we get back to the world next year based on some of Per's work. It has us really excited - the only problem is that we kind of have to sit on ot for 7 months and hope it is still a possibility when we get back. Let's see. Unfortunately readers, we have to keep some mystery in this epic tale.

Anna and Marc ensure they have the proper protection before venturing towards the cave entrance

Come on you reds! Per and Marie after the hike up to the Semuc Champey viewpoint

Reef madness

2008-06-16T10:56:00.000-07:00

We have discussed it with many travelling companions, especially as many people we have met were 'skipping Belize' on their travels, but it has to be said that Caye Caulker should be on everyone's list of places to go in Central America.

A small sand island just a few KM long and 800m wide, Caye Caulker is a magical slice of the Caribbean, ideal for backpacker types. There is a choice of pretty basic cabin and small apartment accomodation, laid back bars and restaurants serving creole, mexican and Belizean fare, plenty of rastas, English and creole pattoir language, no real beach to speak of - but azure tropical water filled with marine life all around - oh and the world's second largest reef system - and for the diver's the 'world no.3' site: the blue hole.

We had a great day snorkelling with the reggae boys; Steve, Steven and Harry, who made up for the lack of guidance with large doses of rum punch on the way back. We sailed with a gaffa taped boom; saw turtle, eel, sharks, rays, gruper fish and coral in the water. It was a bit tough to be in a big group when we had to go into close formation where the current was strong - and we could only see other flippers - but we always felt safe - as we joked that if there was any trouble our god-like skipper Steve would just rise up like Neptune, part the waters and lift the boat clear.

After a few days just chilling (sun bathing and learning Jose Gonzales riffs respectively) the reggae boys appeared in the Oceanside disco (Caye Caulker's only night spot of note) to thrill us with R. Kelly's 'I belive I can fly' and 'We are the world'. Frankly they were a tuneless shambles but we love them. We also got lucky by witnessing the sashing of the contestants for Miss Lobster 2008 and the associated revelry.

The highlight for Jamie on Caye Caulker was joining the daily 5.30 footy match with the locals, who took it very seriously, came well equipped and went in hard, on a pitch that was littered with dangers (plastic forks, sand, mud, mounds etc.). Special mention must go to Juice and Walter for their part in a regular event which is top secret. Sorry readers, but that's just the way it has to be.

The moral of this story is; go to Belize before it is totally overrun by Americans. Belize has reef and jungle, probably the only two natural phenomena (apart from Wayne Henty) that you cannot find in the US. And it is English speaking. And just a stone's throw from the US and the uber developments in Mexico like Cancun. Go soon folks and enjoy it.

Hanging with the Caye Caulker wildlife after another backgammon session

At the 'split' enjoying the sunsplash vibe

And we thought Jamie looked most like a lobster after getting burnt on the first day on the island; The ladies fight it out for first prize

You Better Belize It

2008-06-16T10:47:00.000-07:00

To cut a long story short Belize City is the most charmless, threatening and unpleasant place we have ever been to. It is small with only 30000 people but a total mess. Of course, it is even worse in the worse floods in a generation.

We arrived in darkness and had a wild goose chase around town through flooded, potholed streets to find a vacancy. At the Seaside Hostel we were greeted by 6 inches of water in the alley, the sea wall being breached on the coast road few feet ahead, and the crazy new owner, who tried to drag us out the taxi. He succeeded with our travelling companion, Inga, who was shown a soaking room with wet matress before being reduced to tears in front of the rest of the guests. meanwhile we found a nice room in the Three Sisters across town and luckily the better half of the Seaside management forced the owner to drive Inga back to us.

We holed up in Three Sisters for three nights while the rain eased. Luckily there was cheese and wine available nearby. Sadly Belize City seems light years away from saving. Conversely just a 45 minute water taxi away lies the wonder of Caye Caulker (pronounced key corker).

Albert Road is actually Belize City's high street. And this is a flattering viewpoint

Arthur

2008-06-16T10:38:00.000-07:00

"Let's keep an eye on that hurricane" they said.

Well, we wanted beach in Tulum but when we arrived it had been raining for 3 days and was due to rain for 3 more so we took the decision to head to Belize after consulting the weather reports.

What we didn't quite realise was that we were about to drive through the heart of Tropical Storm Arthur - a key component of the Alma-Arthur system that bought rain to southern Mexico, Belize, Guatemala and much of Honduras for ten days.

Our bus from Tulum back to Chetumal on the Belize border and then down to Belize City was the hairiest ride we have ever been on due to the incredible amount of water on the road. The bus aquaplaned most of the way or had to slow down to ford the torrential currents. Luckily the high wheel base kept our gear dry and enabled us to get all the way to Belize City, which 3 was impossible for cars.

Sadly we have since discovered that Arthur brought the worst floods in Belize in 30 years, costing 5 lives, and causing havoc in the south of the country. The hurricane season usually begins on 1st June each year and Alma-Arthhur confounded the experts by starting on 30th May, at an unusual latitude, and with an irregular path.

Three Arthur songs:
-Garnish Fantasy
-Lose Your Mind
-Arthur's Moods

The bus station was under about 10cm of water before the storm even got going

Just a glimpse of one of many shacks and buildings that we saw inundated on the bus south

Rain, we don´t mind

2008-05-31T16:48:00.000-07:00

So, we are now waiting for a night bus that will take us from Palenque to Tulum. We are doing a runner. Palenque is one of the most stunning ancient sites in the americas. It is also set within rain forest. The clue is in the name. Last night Jamie woke up around midnight, got out of bed and splash, stepped in a big puddle covering half the room. Half our hotel was leaking, some rooms were inundated. After 4 days of heavy storms, including pummeling thunder, it is a bit of a mess in places. We got a few hours of dry weather this morning to see the the Mayan ruins and waterfalls, and it was amazing, with the highest palaces having views across the Yucatan penninsula. But it is time to get cracking and get back to the beach. It was impressively humid and a stunning jungle setting (of course the famous local howler monkeys escaped us this time) and fascinating - particularly the revelation for Anna that humans have been playing silly ball games for millenia, which in some cases were life or death.

Speaking of silly games, it is about time we mentioned the backgammon. In our downtime, and at suitable dining or drinking locations we have been continuing our mortal struggle. So far Anna´s skill and festidious mental preparation have been a match for Jamie´s jammy luck. We have just started the third series-of-series-of-series in the Americas Royal Celebrate Eternity (ARCE) Backgammon Cup.

In other news,
In Vegas we met the Big Mid Western couple in the Stratosphere sky bar. They were off to their drive through wedding in a chevvy and suggested we do the same.
In San Blas we saw a one-legged girl surf ((stand-up i.e. much better than Jamie).
At the Grand Canyon Moby´s In My Heart played very loudly from Jamie´s phone for no reason during a particularly moving and idyllic vista moment.
All guitar teachers should teach how to change spanish guitar strings to save hours and hours of agony.
We still havent seen dolphins (2 guys in Bahia de LA saw ´hundreds´ and we didnt realise our boat taxi in PE was also a dolphin watching boat until later).

Next stop Tulum and the beach... more ruins... and let´s keep an eye on that hurricane... pictures next time we promise (just a few to go with the blog... we only have 1846 to choose from...)

Palenque in a break from the rain

Oh-Wha--haka (Oaxaca)

2008-05-31T16:25:00.000-07:00

After PE we decided against checking out other beaches nearby and headed for Oaxaca in the hills. We can´t think of anyone who wouldn´t enjoy Oaxaca. It has bars, music, art, revolutionary activity, politics, museums, crafts, mescal factories, food markets, ancient ruins, great food, a dizzing mix of native influences, big student population, protesting teachers sleeping in the main square, friendly people, safe feeling, good value tours, stunning valleys all around dotted with indigenous folk and their wares and some good value accomodation - though our hostel had great breakfast and free Internet - it was packed and had queues for the 2 bathrooms. Nico and Ines then of course appeared and proceeded to unravel the local drinking scene - and one man tried to drink a mescal factory dry on a free tasting tour.

We saw the Zapoteca ruins of Monte (Dr) Alban and Mitla. And we got a treat at the Hierve de Agua limestone falls where there is a bubbling spring and natural infinity pool looking out over the Sierra Madre. The local art is pretty tasty, especially the stuff based on the ancient patterns, the ´diamantes zapotecas' (which we find very funny if you say it very fast over and over again like our eager, rug-peddaling, bi-lingual guide).

And we saw Leo, our first taste of spanish guitar. Billed as ´fusion´ we were stunned by his ´Volare Cantare´, ´Bumberlayer´(probably not spelled like that but you know, the Gipsy Kings´ anthem), darting tongue, toneless singing, rhythm-bypass operation, Israeli Sidekick Tambourine Beard Dude (ISTBD), total lack of neck during performance (it would just disappear after every intro - which were all the same by the way and involved cod tapping and endless E to F major changes, which, you know, sound sooooo Latin) and his special move. Yes, Leo had a special move. In every song. His whole body would sync with the room for the special move. Well everyone in the room except ISTBD, who couldn´t possibly understand the rhythmic complexities (or bad timekeeping) of the special move.

Time slowed down as his eyes circled the room, but within milliseconds his right strumming hand would reach for the head of the guitar, the tongue would begin to peak obscenely out, the head would retract further into the now-Hut-like body, and then with a swish of a 19th century French maiden´s fan, the arm would strike across the length of the fretboard as both sets of fingers picked out an intricate, pulsating, flourishing rhythm - the kind you get when the CD player you have just thrown to the floor jumps persistently while playing your least favourite Roni Size outtake. Finally with the fingers finished, having paraded up and down the neck several times the thumb would finally be brought up tantalisingly close to the now-loping tongue. And then as quickly as it came it would be over. ISTBD would jangle and the song would continue.

Oaxaca street art

It's my life... at (Dr) Monte Alban

The atmosphere was electric in the Neuvo Babel with our new axe hero

Romance at the infinity pool at Hierve de Agua

Going loco

2008-05-31T16:12:00.000-07:00

Mexico has been exceeding all our expectations, which been significantly lowered by every American we had met in the US. Unfortunately the prices have also exceeded our expectations which has made us keen to get a move on and search for paradise further south.

First of all there were some must do´s we had to deal with.

From San Blas we took the monster 23 hour bus via Tepic to Acapulco after the Puerto Vallarta bus was cancelled. On this trip we were accompanied by the Irish Hangover couple. Late arrivals and newly crowned members of the San Blas social club (and in his case, a victorious ManU fan who we watched the game with and actually met because we all decided to stay an extra night to watch the footy), enter, stage-left, Nico and Ines. Friendly, easy going and refreshingly non-judgemental, they (well, Nico) certainly don´t mind a drink, and have been great company.

We saw the famous cliff divers of Acapulco in the morning and blagged our way into a swank beachfront hotel pool area in the afternoon, ate amazing 100% Natural soya burgers and the best guacamole so far, and got back on the bus to the surf centre Puerto Escondido. By this time we had already bumped into the Irish again, and of course, they were on the bus.

PE was a cool town though the Zicatela surf beach was a bit zen for us, the town´s coves were charming if a little packed. We had a war with several species of ants of various sizes (large, very large, and f***ing-massive-red-and-flying) eventually defeating them by spraying all the electricity sockets in the room - well Jamie did that while Anna took them on in hand to hand combat!

Big waves at Puerto Escondido

San Blas social club

2008-05-31T15:57:00.000-07:00

As well as the beach San Blas is blessed with a small military base, plenty of policias turisticas (who we witnessed extracting some folding from an idiot group of fighting american fisherman guys), and a large mangrove swamp.

We took the jungle boat ride with our strange american, Joe, and with the Lovely English Radio couple Greg and Elise. We shared plenty of coincidences (Joe and Jamie have both been disappointed by the Dunlop Crybaby wah Hendrix model which doesn´t quite have that top end clickety click, and Greg, Elise and Jamie also have many years in commercial radio behind them. Greg and Elise had also been driving around California for three weeks and been in Whistler before that. For every Grand Canyon we had, they had a Coachella Festival...). The surprises didn´t end there. Joe was just 9 days out of Iraq having served for eight years as a marine. Articulate, razer-sharp, generous and funny, Joe seems to know about every item on every menu from Alaska to Zimbabwe. He has survived the sting of a giant jellyfish in Oz, took a wild dingo home and had it on base in Iraq and is not very good at pool. And we have basically adopted him. Even though he is not here now we usually have a place for him at dinner!

On the jungle boat we saw small crocs, lizards, vulchers, turtles and got close to big crocs at a croc farm and better than that, we made friends. We are sure we will get Joe to Finland at some point. And chances are we see them all again at some point as we travel south.

Cooking up breakfast in San Blas

On the jungle boat

The San Blas social club, featuring the shy and retiring Nico (centre), who is wreaking havoc across Central America

San Blas, a godforsaken place, and other animals

2008-05-31T15:34:00.000-07:00

We still don´t know why we picked San Blas out of the guidebook. Our Rough Guide (who will be recieving a stern letter, wand whose Mexico publication you should avoid until further notice) described San Blas as a godforsaken place ridden with biting insects, and lacking in charm. We thought of it as the first of the Pacific beach towns and one that was probably underdeveloped compared to the mega resorts down the coast.

We were very pleasantly surprised. We arrived at dusk at San Blas to the small terminal on one corner of the town square. First impressions were actually great. The square was subtely lit by the church´s soft neon lights from one side, and by the street lanterns above the giggling teenage couples and dozing grandparents lounging in the square. We only had to walk a few metres to Posada Morelos to be greeted by our resident pelican (christened Big Bird), the four grey kittens, the basic outdoor cooking facilities and our street side room. We were the only gringos staying there when we arrived and it seemed that locals would park their trucks on our quiet street outside our window and test their 2000 watt sound systems just for us!

Big Bird wasn´t the friendliest. He (or she - we couldn´t get close enough to find out) announced our first tentative foray towards its corner by giving a very loud and threatening clap of the beak. He (or she) is famous in the town for leaving the posada´s courtyard and wandering into the town square to harrass the locals.

On our first night in San Blas we took an orientating stroll and a strange american recommended La Famila, where we had our first taste of San Blas´ great value cuisine.

San Blas beach was a 1 1/2 km stroll down the road from the square and our place. The weather was a constant and dry (not humid) 32 degrees with maybe the odd cloud around. On the beach were the usual lineup of (palm-roofed) palapa cafes and a sweeping crescent of sand stretching a couple of kilometres.

We ended up staying a week. The beach had Mexican and foreign surfers in small numbers, there were a handful of gringos staying on the beach when we arrived, the town had a great indoor market in one corner of the square, and everywhere the food was above expectations. From the ceviches on the street stalls (fish with lime open tacos) to the carne asadas in the dine-ins with the glorious assortments of toppings. There was the ex-pat-type bar on one corner with the Italian-american-owner-with-the-dubious-past, the well airconditioned pool bar that was ideal for the football, sweet, welcoming locals at every turn and a safe, cosy, understated feeling. We liked it a lot. And, staying by the square, we were able to avoid the nightly nibbling by the extremely vociferous sand flies on the beach!

These piccies go with the last post...

Room with a view at Cal's in Baja

Party on dudes

Just deserts

Whale of a time in incredible Bahia de Los Angeles (you can't see the wind)

There must be some kinda way outta here

Crossing over

2008-05-31T15:13:00.000-07:00

San Diego was cloudy, unusually, had some very big boats (the Nimitz, Enterprise and Reagan - all the biggest US aircraft carriers) were there. We saw some great live music in the gas quarter and stayed in waffle-ishious HI, which was filled with laptoppers as ever. Again in SD we didnt get any positive American views on Mexico and no other travellers we spoke to were going to Baja - so we started getting a bit jumpy.

Anyway, we decided to skip Tijuana and its bad reputation. The SD tram goes straight to the border and it its a short walk and a bit of paperwork into Mexico. We were on the bus within minutes, got off at the wrong stop in Ensenada to change, but managed to proceed to the crossroads on the Baja highway for Erendira, where we cabbed to Coyote Cals. We were the only guests that night and had the superb crows nest room with windows on all sides and great views of the windy pacific. The owner Rick also drove us around and got Anna birthday cake the next night and conducted a birthday singalong with all the passing american fishermen.

Baja was stunning with amazingly varied desert scenery but it was windy everywhere we went. It is also very remote. The buses only go down the main highway and you have to hitch or get dodgy truck taxis into the coastal villages. We hitched the 70km from the deserted desert petrol stop at Parador Punta Prieta to Bahia De Los Angeles (but we had to pay the towns boy racers 30 bucks to get us out - as they were the only thing on the roads - and they were racing up and down the tiny village dirt tracks in mums people carrier at 70mph - it was a hairy but quick ride back to the desert stop where we waved down the bus).

Bahia De Los Angeles is a magical place. A lovely wide bay, mountains rising all around, islands shielding the bay from the Sea of Cortez, and a bay teaming with marine life. We stayed at the loveable, eccentric Larrys Place, a motel on the beach for american fisher folk that drive down for the sport fishing. Unfortunately the wind meant that boating, the free kayaking, beaching, swimming etc were not possible for us. If we were in Phoenix and needed a weekend break, in whale season, this is one place we would definately go back to.

The prices of the buses, accommodation and food in Baja shocked us and gave us the first feeling that our guidebook for Mexico might not be the most accurate.

From the Bay of LA we got our first monster bus ride to La Paz, followed by the overnight ferry across Cortez to Mazatlan. We followed that up with the bus to Tepic, which was held up by a tyre that exploded under Annas seat - and we arrived in San Blas on the Pacific Coast after about 50 hours of almost non stop travelling.

On the ferry and bus to Tepic we started to also notice that there might be a few other people travelling down the americas - the Cowboy Hat Kiwi boys we had met in Hermosa (LA) and San Diego were on the ferry and the bus...

Lunch time, it's always lunch time

Look over there!

Comedy moment

2008-05-06T14:15:00.001-07:00

In LA the first time we saw some great stand up.
And in LA last night there was a moment of great humour.

Best joke from the Comedy Store, courtesy of Carlos from Honduras, speaking on 'beaners' the self-prescribed nickname for all peoples lookig the slightest bit Latin (read Mexican) in LA. It goes something like this, and it is rude, so look away now:

"So God and his angels are in the process of handing the defining qualities and characteristics to the different human races. The Asian delegation pause for a while and request to be given the defining trait of academic excellence. So the lord gives the Asians good grades but in celestial balance makes their sexual organs and feminine physical features diminutive. The Afro-Anmerican contigent see this and immediately request big asses and big schlongs. The heavenly committee of course temper this by giving them the trait of poor literacy and terrible school attendance.

Meanwhile the Hispanic delegation are debating what they should request, when from the back of the pack a diminutive voice squeals out "pointy shoes". Amid the sighs, scolds, disbelieving recoil and general incredulity of the attendent beaners ("no, not the pointy shoes), God and his mighty host grant them their wish.

Now centuries have passed and beaners far and wide can see the benefit of divine wisdom as the pointy shoes are perfect to enable them to climb the fence into the USA."

Thanks Carlos.

And last night one of our American hostel-mates suggested that Bolivia was rife with indiscriminate shootings, terrible multi-bus pile ups and more more than one case of gunmen boarding buses only indescriminantly shoot dead every passenger, including women and children.

MC Delicatessen countered by suggesting that that was a lot different from the USA where they waste no time by having the gunmen enter school classes to indescriminantly blow everyone away.

Thanks Bush.

On a related theme, we have been reasonably active in searching out Native American contexts on our travels. We did find amazing rock art near the Lava Beds and, though we haven't been painstaking, we are pretty shocked at how (unklike say Australia) there is basically nothing on the tourist trail celebrating or informing native culture. There are the Indian casinos and the lakes have Indian names but you are more likely to find a memorial glorifying another Indian massacre or displacement than anything even trying to explain Native American life. Or the end of it.

California here we come

2008-05-06T14:11:00.001-07:00

Singalong if you know the words.

In the last few days we have hit the OC, Orange County, to check out the vibe at the homes of some of our favourite and least favourite TV shows.

We started with Newport, land of yachts, yacht clubs, harbours, harbour clubs, recreational water vehicles, 17 year olds not driving daddy's Merc but driving their own, perma-tans, perma-shades, Balboa island, beach bars and a nicer atmosphere than expected but still nit nearly as friendly as the hidden opulence of Venice's canal houses to the North. Huntingdon beach was party central, the place to park your RV (we have seen so many huge coach-like 6 wheeler RVs pulling their own SUV's - not the other way around!)...HB had some Brighton vibe, great people watching... Laguna beach was a bit older, artsy, hidden in the hills, but charming. And Long Beach was a bit too cruise-harbour and tourist friendly. We are now in LA's central beach land. We haven't seen much of Redondo to the South and Manhattan to the North but we are staying the only hostel in the whole of southern LA on Heromsa beach (proviso: there is an HI scout-style hostel at San Pedro point open high summer only).

The Surf bay hostel is very cool. It is the second building from the beach on Hermosa's happening Peir Avenue, a parade of just-hip-but-friendly-enough bars, stores and restaurants on the short strip perpendicular to the sea. The streets behind rise up towards the Pacific Coast highway and there is a small town feel. The hostel has 8 Finns (including a certain Laaksonen), a half Finnish worker, and at least 3 more people continuing on, like us, overland through Central America. Like every other private hostel the Internet terminals are unusuable, the free wifi is actually whatever unprotected network you can pick up by standing in the window and the TV is dominated by the two resident American sports fans (I secretly love this part). Kitchen is good - we were definately the annoying-cooking-and-wine-couple last night - but the hostel has one over-riding...let's call it a feature. With a club bar downstairs and two live music bars in the next two buildings, both shooting low frequencies out of flat roofs and skylights straight up to our window, we have felt like we are sleeping on the dancefloor until cut off at about 1AM the last two nights. I like to think I have high tolerance for noise and we are going for it for another night - and tonight it has to be that we can't beat 'em and must join 'em. The weather has gone cloudy which has conveniently enabled us to get to planning and researching getting through San Diego and Tijuana on the border and working out if and where we want to go in Baja in Mexico.

Yesterday we gave the car back and we spent 6 hours in USPS, UPS, Fedex and on related issues arranging for our snowboard bag to be sent home. It was a bit of a saga. Our original bag that I got from Jarno wasn't really up the task and was damaged on the flights to Canada. We got a new bag cheap in Whistler, a bit bigger and bit stronger, and with wheels. However, I had researched sending our 160cm bag bag back cheaply by USPS but our new 183cm bag just exceeded USPS limits so instead of $200 we had to pay $570 with Fedex. We went the torturous process of filling it with clothes and expendable items to lighten the load and we sent back over 40 kgs. We still have a lot of stuff but at least now we are more confident we have the items we had in our mind's eye. We both have bought things like lightweight trekking shoes, light water proof jackets, great socks etc. And I have bought some incredible hoodies for like $15-20 each. We had to send a lot of new stuff home and wish we could go straight back shopping to Vegas - it really was a paradise. Now it's time for a break while we count the c-c-c-c-ost of our great adventure so far.

Big up yourselves, the Deli

Intermission

2008-05-06T13:56:00.000-07:00

So, for various reasons we skipped the Joshua Tree park (though we saw plenty of Joshua trees), the Humbolt Redwood park (the we saw plenty of giant redwoods and also the big Sequoias on the way out of Yosemite), the Lassen park (though we saw lava stuff at Lava Beds) and Death Valley - which we will have to do another time. And in the Grand Canyon it would have been cool to have more time to do an overnight hike. But generally we kept up the pace around California, had enough flexibility to deviate when neccesary (not with the Fairbrasses but with Shasta, Reno, extra days in Yosemite, Vegas, Grand Canyon, pivking up random motels, plenty of random stops and detours etc etc.).

We have been mostly eating our own breakfast, having roadside sandwich lunches (Reuben is a fave), and eating out at night in the 10-15 dollar main region. We didn't spend a night in the car in the end as we always found a 40-70 dollar motel. The exceptions were in Raggedy Point on Big Sur and just outside Yosemite where we paid the arse-end-of-nowehere-big-wiggly-bricking-cliff-top-drive-in-the-dark-to-get-out premium and paid $120.

Last night we finally downed the best bottle we bought in Sonoma - a Cab Sav for $40 that was so close to some of the $100 Cab Savs that we tasted that we had to buy over the delightful $25 Syrahs and blends that also got our attention.

We really miss the car already. Pete was one of the family. When we got him he was pretty filthy inside. There were nuts all over the inside, big stains on the back seats, chippings in the boot, and mank all over the centre console. We had to clean him up ourselves (he was the only Sebring available - tip: when renting from Dollar and given a choice of cars, hang around a while because the selection changes rapidly - we nearly took a tiny Cruiser and were actually driving away, which would have been a waste of the upgrade we paid for, but then Pete waltzed in). Anyway, Pete saw a lot of great sights, we didn't have a fender bender, though we had a couple of heavy brakes, we got one parking ticket in LA, and we got a caution for speeing in Mount Shasta doing 87mph (down from 93) in a 60 zone - but we got let off - hoorah. We hid a note for Pete's next driver and hope they get as much mileage and satisfaction as we did.

Three songs about cars:
#3 Driving in my car, Madness
#2 Drive my car, Bobby McFerrin
#1 Crosstown Traffic, James Marshall Hendrix

...not exactly a ground breaking selection but then cars aren't really that big and clever either. And don't get me started on the enormous volume of imbaciles driving Toyota mini trucks and the like on the freeways.

Squaring the circle

2008-05-06T13:41:00.000-07:00

Yes, we did gamble and lose. But we broke even in Vegas. It was on the back to LA where we stopped off at Laughlin on the Colorado river that we put our luck to the test. And blew 100 dollars on roulette. Laughlin was a mini Vegas with a steamboat motel and pop-up desert charm. Lake Havasu was a bonus. At Havasu city we saw London Bridge. The London Bridge lovingly relocated many moons ago by another crazy entrepreneur. Of course the locals and strays have built a whole industry around the bridge. Though the town will be rembered for the beach filled by speedboats and posers out on a Thursday afternoon in the desert sun.

We have seen quite a few lakes now. Tahoe is a rugged natural beauty surronded by imposing mountains (and ski resorts). Havasu, like Powell, Mead and many more are products of the dams that have been built on the Colorado and other rivers to enable the growth of the desert behemoths like Vegas. On all the lakes the abundance of water craft, from house boats to jetskis and everything in between, is frightening. We saw some amazing images of a square mile of Havasu filled with recreational water vehicles shoulder to shoulder. And then we went to Palm Springs where every shop and restaurant has sprayers dusting a fine mist of cool water across its threshold. And where every palm on the sidewalk has its own personal irrigation system. And our motel had a pool. And the atmosphere was actually very pleasant. I am very confused by desert living. On one hand I am amazed by the resoucefullness, but then I am shocked by the articiciality. Driving in Arizona we were stunned by the vastness and desolation. And then in the gambling centres you are of course struck by the tackiness, shamelessness and futility.

Now we are back in LA I am so glad we got to see so much. We both agree that just the three weeks around California is the best holiday we have ever had.

I is ah bidnissman. It wahs bidniss.

Three songs about coming back:
#3 Take it to the limit, The Eagles
#2 Hear my train a comin', James Marshall Hendrix
#1 I'll Stay, Funkadelic

One helluva big hole in the ground

Trying hard to relax in Palm Springs

Hermosa beach vibe

The big stuff

2008-05-06T13:17:00.001-07:00

We had already started to realise that Califorinans have no real reason to ever leave. Nature's bounty. Their cup runneth over. And we were about to do the big stuff. Yosemite, Vegas and the Grand Canyon.

Yosemite was storybook jaw dropping. But overcrowded. We saw it on one of the first weekends of the year and it was tolerable but full. From May through the summer it is apparently double packed, with all accomodation gone and every access road blocked with traffic and parking. For all its natural beauty Yosemite has had pollution problems back in the 70s through over crowding, and now it is quite a mess, with bad signs confusing the melee. I think they should take a leaf out of Hearst Castle's book and get all traffic (except booked campers) out of the park. There is a great free bus service within the park. But we would have gladly taken a 90 minute ride from a park and ride outside the park to help save the place from being overrun. One drawback of going at the end April was that the 120 through park to the North was still closed. Our advice would be to only go at the start or end of season with Autumn beging favourite. This was Anna's favourite place so far and we had some lovely short hikes to see the waterfalls but I feel pretty sad about it as it is just too popular.

Vegas baby. Well, we stayed at the cheapo Sahara and went up the brilliant Stratosphere tower for the strip view on the first night. We toured the Bellagio, Ceasar's and a few more on the strip. But on the way in and the way out we discovered incredible outlet malls, filled with factory outlet stores of many of our favourite apparel brands and more. And we shopped. We should have been prepared. Being naked to this point would have been good. Prices were around 10-25 of (not off) Finnish prices. We left with big smiles and would go to Vegas again just for the shopping.

And on to Jamie's personal favourite so far, the Grand Canyon. We spent the best part of two days there, watching the sunset at the west rim and walking in to the south rim to try and get more perspective. I left a part of myself there and will return - I feel like a have to. Vast is an understatement. Words cannot describe. Brain cannot compute.

Three songs about rock:
#3 Let's Rock, Sly & Robbie
#2 Rock'n'Roll Music, Chuck Berry
#1 Jenny from the Block, J-Lo

Hello from Lake Tahoe

Picnic stop makes ya jump, jump

The Yosemite money shot

One of many stunning falls at Yosemite

A slight fear of heights inherited from the paternal side

Lava, luck and lakes

2008-05-06T13:06:00.000-07:00

When we found out that Lassen volcanic park was closed for the winter we set our pilot on course for the Lava Beds National Monument in the far North of California. To get there we straddled the Oregon state line and drove through some stunning volcanic scenery. What we didn't realise was that we should've been prepared to go caving as the highlight of the park is a score of very accessible lava tube and similar underground caverns. We toyed with getting out our snowbaord helmets but when we realised our torches had flat or no batteries and we were frankly clueless (and in my case well lanky for the narrow caves) we had to duck out and just do the one kiddies cave that was lit. We pushed on to Reno in Nevada and then to Lake Tahoe. Regarding media, our trip so far has been dominated by watching the weather channel and listening out for local radio stations traffic and weather reports (so far no rain in California and no notable traffic jams either - touch wood). We found that we were in Tahoe for the last weekend of some resorts but we still had about 15 possible resorts to choose from for a saturday of spring skiing. We plumped for Squaw Valley which had the most lifts open, including a cable car and gondola and hit the slopes in the sun. We followed up by driving round the gorgeous Lake Tahoe and trying to shop in the South Tahoe City, only to find that it is way behind Whistler in development and not able to satisfy our shopping lust. Our eyes were just starting to get trained on the outlet stores we heard were coming around Vegas.

Cycling in Sonoma (previous entry)

The big prize in Sonoma's Ravensbrook winery

The Finlandia motel - with jacuzzi and sauna

Boom - Mount Shasta - check your aura at the gate

SssanFran, streets, Sonoma, Shasta

2008-05-06T12:51:00.000-07:00

SF exceeded expectations. We explored most of the areas of town briefly and enjoyed the trolleys, cable cars, driving the zig zag Lombard street, stayed on the hill and downtown, ate Italian, saw cool Jazz, had the best burrito we will ever have, and dug the whole vibe. We can totally understand why people rave about it - so much more charm than LA and so much more accessible physically and spiritually. And we fell victim to the City Lights bookstore as Kate predicted and we came away with far more cool books, especially about Central and South American politics, than we can realistically carry.

Our plan to do Sonoma valley wineries by bicycle worked a treat. This was the first time it became apparent how lucky we were to be travelling off peak in spring. The roads were clear, the wineries empty, the amazing picnic store was easy to shop in, the weather hot but mild, and again we were able to take our first chpoice accomodation by turning up on the day (in fact as I write this we only had a hitch with accomodation when we first arrived in Santa Monica/Venice - fingers crossed we stay lucky). I don't know if Otso has planned a next vacation but I couldn't help think how much you would love this. The wineries were so cool and relaxed and the rolling hill views made it a really special day.

We checked out some big trees on the way out of SF on the Avenue of the Giants. The trees were big, very big, but didn't really grab us so we decided to didtch the other redwood park we were planning to go to and we went to Mount Shasta. This place was a big surprise. The mountain itself is awesome, looking like a perfectly sculpted peak that can be viewed from all sides that dominates the landscape. It is the size of Mont Blanc and casts a mystical shadow over its surroundings. I cant remember if Robin told me about this place but it is head heaven and I couldn't help but think how Bob would love this place. We found our own surprise at the Finlandia motel where a Finnish family laid on the Finn discount, piped up the sauna and hot tub and entertained Anna by, er, speaking in the native tongue.

Three songs about wine:
#3 Lilac Wine, Jeff Buckley
#2 Water with the Wine, Joan Armatrading
#1 We don't have to take our clothes off, Jermaine Stewart

And that's just the tourists!

chillin by the pier

Cheesey view... and a nice skyline

The streets of San Francisco

Cheesier view

Santa Barbara and up the Big Sur

2008-05-06T12:43:00.000-07:00

Santa Barbara was a lot more laid back, cosy, relaxed and cool than I had imagined - definately a place I would go again. Conversely, though many people talked up Santa Cruz, we found it was a bit threatening, lazy and shabby - like the worst side of Brighton. The hostel we had in Cruz was lovely, with a sweet garden and cabins. But it was slackerville. The Big Sur driving was spectacular and we have far too many photos of rock/sea scapes. We saw hundreds of sea lions close up at Piedras Blancas, spent the night on Raggedy Point in non/budget luxury and delighted in the Monterrey aquarium. The highlight though was probably Hearst Castle. Take Portmerrion and exponentially inflate it and add a large dose of celebrity debauchery and multiply the budget into biblical proportions and you get the idea. Even though it was only accessible by guided tour it was stunning . I am still looking for David Niven's books about the shenanigans there.

Three songs about big:
#3 Mr Big, Free
#2 Big Bottom, Spinal Tap
#1 Notorious B.I.G., P Diddy

This doesn't even begin to get across the enormous opulence of Hearst Castle

Up close and personal

Anna has a lot of new boyfriends to choose from

Big Sur

Bigger Sur

Are you sure...

Too sexy for the strip?

2008-05-06T12:36:00.000-07:00

Our last few days in LA the first time round were marked by a scorching weekend. We hit Venice beach in 35 degrees on a busy weekend to see the freak show and the beautiful people and we hit Sunset Strip in the evening to go to the famous Comedy Store to see stand-up. We were treated to a parade of comics from various TV shows and it was well worth it. Though the evening will be remembered for our sushi dinner where we sat next to Neil's favourite male vocal duo, Right Said Fred. The chaps were looking smooth as ever. I had a quick word with Richard Fairbrass and bit my toungue to avoid the obvious "too sexy" lines. How they must be haunted by that tune - but probably loaded from it too. Anyway Neil, Richard said he will be round for yor usual rendezvous - nudge nudge. In LA we also added to our celebrity total by watching an acoustic gig with the Scottish Hobbit from Lord of the Rings. Not exactly Depp and Pammy...

A note from the Ed

2008-05-06T12:32:00.000-07:00

So, apologies for the lack of communications these past few weeks but we have been frustrated by the lack on Internet cafes in the US, the poor quality of free hostel wifi and the limited functionality of paid Internet access in hostels - generally it has been frustrating but also great to avoid computers for a while. We are back in LA in Hermosa by the beach taking advantage of the free public library Internet to update the blog and plan our next steps. We have been on the move a lot in the last few weeks (we have covered 4000 miles). Hopefully we will get the chance to add pictures and add some Finnish to the blog soon - but until then you are stuck with me. Love, MC Deli

I'll be there for you... etc. etc.

LA interrupted

2008-04-12T16:37:00.000-07:00

We have now pitched up in LA and are spending a few nights in the Hostel California, our base to drive around and see the sights. We have Pete, our blue Sebring, to take us where we want to go, procured after much haggling with Dollar and an upgrade, even though the overall price was much higher than predicted due to the vagueries of the US car insurance system (and yours truly just not getting it right). So far we have been in Venice, Santa Monica, Hollywood, Melrose Avenue and we are just going to Rodeo Drive. Thank heavens we found Pete's AC control after a few hours driving on Thursday as it is 35 degrees today! We might have to go back to Venice beach and just sit on it tomorrow!

Big shout out to Chris I met on the plane who regailed me with tales of Burning Man and gave us phone numbers of friends on the route and was a great guy all round - we will be sure to look him up when we reapppear back in LA in a few weeks.

More on LA later. Celebrities, shops etc. beckon:)

Santa Monica pier

Hollywood hills' plush pads

Serene and sureal Venice canal living

Of Orcas

2008-04-12T15:58:00.000-07:00

Still no time to put up photos as the prices of internet use everywhere we have been are so high. We have free wireless on the phone a lot but its only good for simple messages and checking the footy results.

The second week in Whistler got sunnier though there was still snow and some amazing thick fog. We went all over both Whistler and Blackcomb mountains, cooked ourselves some nice meals and drank plenty of average but cheap local BC red wine. We also at last met our first Finn in a gondola - she had the obligatory English (well Welsh) boyfriend - as we know Finnish ladies tour the world looking the best guys to take back home etc etc.

We explored the local transport to get to Vancouver and stayed in the Grand Trunk hostel for four nights. In a nutshell this hostel is to be avoided by all but the hardiest of travellers. We wouldn't go within shooting distance of the kitchen but the squalor certainly encouraged us to get up early and go back as late as possible. On three key criteria (location, cost, Internet) the Grand Trunk stacks up well but with qualification. The location is at one end of the attractive part of Gastown, Vancouver. Walk out and right and it is brick paved streets, the steaming clock, boutiques, eateries, cafes and feels like a French quarter. Turn left and within 10 paces you are in the smack capital of Vancouver where homelessness has increased a third in the last year - quite a contrast. At 16 CAD a night each it is the cheapest place in Vancouver. However the restrooms and kitchen were grim. The fridge in our room was enormous for 1974 and the telly even had knobs for channel tuning. It was really dirty. On value you'd have to chalk it down. And then the free Internet was on a PC from the dark ages withg DIY cabling that had a mind of its own. And it was one of those places you can hear everything everywhere. PLus there was the comulsory non-sequitur conspiracy paranoic running things who had more rabbit than Sainsburys. Oh and it rained all the time in Vancouver. A lot like Helsinki when we left.

So, geddit, don't stay at the Trunk unless it's the Olympics and then you will no choice! Vancouver was a little drab really with a disappointing Chinatown and plenty of coffee shops filled with Macbooks in every area. Yaletown was new media luvvy heaven. Gastown was our favourite part which was handy as we were stying there. We were serenaded by some of the worst solo Mariachi you can imagine - it didn't get any better when the chef trundled out with a flute and made it sound like a ladle - and we were the only customers. We didn't make it to Stanley park but we did go to Steveston for the whale trip. On the first day we went out and saw sea lions, seals, a sea otter and plenty of Vancouver's surrounding islands, complete with their isolated holiday homes - another feature that maybe made Vancouver a little too much like home. On the first day the myriad of whale watching companies combined with the sea planes, coast guard, fishing fleets and local shipping couldn't locate the resident killer whale posse, known as J-pod (after four hours at sea you really wish that, being the most studied group of marine mammals on the planet, they had tagged the big blighters). Anyway we went back on the second day, as you get a lifetime guarantee you will see whales, and before departure they had been located. We finally caught up with the 21 members of J-pod down near Victoria and it was special to see such awesome creatures. Our two days at sea turned out to be quite theraputic and with the amount of wildlife it was well worth it.The incrediible fauna around Vancouver is there because the Frasier river is the most salmon rich river in the world and its mouth supports a vast interdependant ecosystem. One that would be great to see in future would be a salmon run by one of the six species of local salmon upstream to spawn - next time, next time.

Our last day in Vancouver was actually in Seattle. We hired a car, went over the border and drove to Seattle, went up the space needle, chilled in Belltown and went to the Gehry-designed Experience Music Project, which was unfortunately the only massive multi-million dollar Hendrix memorial museum in the world with no exhibits about a certain James Marshall Hendrix - more on this another time.

On our last night in Vancouver we hooked up with my dad's cousin, Kieran. Earlier in the day we had sought out the Salt Tasting Room, a deli recommended by a stranger from the Thorn Tree forum. The Salt Tasting Room was a revalation. Out of context in a tramp littered alley affectionately called Blood Alley, it was a place you would never accidently chance upon (I even avoided telling Anna the name of the alley until we had reached the door because it was so portentous). Far from being a run of the mill deli, the room was a multi-national fine cheese, fine meat and fine wine tasting restaurant with a laid back vibe. With just a tasting menu of consequtive cheeses and meats accompanied by select condiments and wine (by the bottle, glass or cunningly by tasting glass to compliment each item). It was magic. We tried the local BC cheeses and found them a bit subtle by European standards but still delightful. The highlight of the evening undoubtedly was great uncle Kieran. Well travelled, debonair, personable, interesting and kind; I can't believe my family has been hiding him all this time. It was the first time we met and I wish we had invited him up to Whistler before.

I think the lesson is that in future we shouldn't be shy about getting in touch with people on route.

Three songs about salmon and their related food chain
#3 Solomon's Atlantis Salmon, Steve Hillage
#2 Neptune's Wrath, The Electric Chairs
#1 The Salmon Dance, The Chemical Brothers

Killer whales ahoy!

The Gehry-designed Hendrix-less museum

Enjoying the pow pow!

2008-03-28T16:33:00.000-07:00

We've struck it lucky with the Whistler weather. It has snowed every day we have been here. We arrived on Sunday night after 24 hours of travel door to door and took Monday off to acclimatise and orientate. The flights were fine. We stopped off at Heathrow and watched football with Nina, and the onward flight to Vancouver even had Entourage episodes. Getting used to the time difference has meant that getting up early has been really easy so far. In fact, this morning we were in the first public gondola up Blackcomb mountain. It was a bit colder in the Alpine today and the weather does close in quick but we took the plunge and walked up the gauntlet to the top of Blackcomb glacier and snowboarded down on a single run over 10km. The first half was mostly powder and pretty fresh as it just keeps snowing. Next week we should have some sun but we are happy to put up with the flurries as the boarding is ace. We have been mostly on blue runs and gentle bowls as the blacks and many of the the bowls tend to be unprepared and very bumpy thanks to all those skiers overdoing it over the season - basically a load of moguls - no fun on boards. We have only had one walk out so far. I saw a 200m stretch of fresh snow and had to have it. Of course it turned out the reason it hadn't been ploughed was the great cliff at the end of it. Still we only had to make a little 60m walk.

And today we had our first quality route row. We lost each other due to tiredness coming down dome of the great groomed slopes in the middle of Blackcomb. Two hours, several failed calls and some very nice mountain staff later, we found each other back at the ranch. Speaking of which we struck gold with the Clock Tower. It is compact but way above wildest expectations and only 50m from the gondolas, bang in the heart of the village, and we got the quiet side. Hoorah.

We keep meeting little'uns as the teachers ask you to take them on the lifts. Most memorable so far would Gabriel from San Diego. He was so sweet until the dismount. He got caught up and I had to carry him of the chair lift. And I set him straight about Santa being from Finnish lapland!

Three songs about powder
#3 White lines (don't do it), Grandmaster Melle Mel and the Furious Five
#2 Life in the fast lane, The Eagles
#1 One way ticket to hell and back, The Darkness

Packing list

2008-03-17T09:44:00.000-07:00

We can't have a blog about the trip without a packing list, so here it is:

Bags
Rucksacks x2
Day pack
Rucksack covers x2
Mini keyring bags
Dry bags x2
Drawstring bin liners
Sleeping
Sleeping bags x2
Mummy bags x2
Mosquito net
Pillowcases x2
Travel blankets
Travel pillows x2
Double sheet
Footwear
Trainers x2
Sandals x2
Trail running shoes x2
Anna's clothes
Poncho
Jacket
Hats
Sarongs
Skirts x2
Bikinis x2
Trousers x1
Shorts
Knickers x4
Bras x4
Socks x4
T-shirts x4
Hoodie
Jamie's clothes
Poncho
Waterproof jacket
Hat
Sarong
Trousers x2
Socks x 4
Boxers x 4
Rash shirt
T-shirts x4
Bermuda shorts
Shorts
Hoodie
Tools & toys
Frisbee
Washing line
Torch
Head torch
Sink plug adapter
Leatherman
Eye shades
Cutlery (sporks x2)
Mugs
Money belts/pockets
Snorkelling gear
Jamie sunglasses
Anna sunglasses
Padlocks
Bike chain
Sewing kit
Kettle element
Binoculars
Backgammon
Playing cards
Compass/thermometer
Jesus (gaffa) tape
Lighter/matches
Pens
Hooks
Ear plugs
Safety pins
Cable ties
Straps
Spanish guitar
Guitar soft case
Mini guitar tuner
Plectra
Guitar string sets x 2
Media
Copies of documents x2
Scans of documents on USB
Photo selection from home
DVDs (entourage)
CDs (music for US car trip)
CD case
Passport holders
Passports
Waterproof document pouches
Moleskin notebooks x2
LP CA
LP SA
LP LA
LP California
RG Mexico
Finnish Spanish phrase book
English Spanish phrase book
Electronics
N95
N95 headphones
N95 cable
N95 sd cards x3
SD card reader
USB sticks x2
N5100
Phone charger
Phone chager Nseries adapter
Ipod mini in plastic shell
Itrip
Ipod charger
Ipod headphones
Ipod double headphone adapter
Cybershot camera
Camera USB cable
Camera charger
Camera memory cards x3
Universal socket adapter
Clock radio
Toiletries & medical
First aid kit
Sterile kit
Travel towels
Wash bags x2
Nail kit
Wash kit
Water purificication pump
Collapsing water bottle
Water purification tabs
Baby wipes
Disinfectant
Malaria pills (Malarone & Doxy)
Off (and other sprays)
Antibiotics
Contraceptive pills
Prophylactics
Burana/aspirin
Milk pills
Multivitamins
Iron tabs
Sun cream
After sun (cocoa butter)
Foot tape
Yeast cream
Diarrhea tabs
Antihystimines
Hair wax
Hair spray
Toothbrushes x2
Deodorant x2
Contact lens solution
Contact lenses x12 pairs
Moisturiser x2
Make up stuff
Shampoo & conditioner
Snowboard gear
Snowboard bag
Boards & bindings x2
Boots x2
Jackets x2
Trousers x2
Straps x2
Pippos x2
Gloves x2
Goggles x2
Lock
Long johns/tightsx2 each
Thermal vestsx3 each
Socksx2 each
Long sleeved topsx1 each
Helmets x2
Screwdriver
Jeans x2
Casual top x2

The piccy just shows the tools, toys, leccy gear and sleeping stuff. Luckily all our snowboard stuff just fits in my big snowboard bag but let's see how our backpacks turn out. I am praying for 15 kilos but expecting 18-20. We are still debating ponchos Vs jackets, if we want eyeshades and earplugs, and if we can leave out trainers - handy for footy games with the local youth!

Of course we don't have to carry all this. The snowboard gear and the US guidebooks will be jettisoned before Mexico. There are a few things we might leave out but things like the drugs are worth getting now and are based on our experiences in India. Of course we would be happy if we never have to open the first aid kit or use any antibiotics...

We still have to sort out the document copies, get the iPod and phone loaded, get Anna a helmet, get a bike chain (found two but no spare keys - doh), and find some decent bin liners, as well as a few little things we can find in the states (like the trail runners) but we are in good shape.

Three songs about packing:
#3 Would I Lie To You, Eurythmics
#2 Ready 2 Ryde, Snoop Dogg
#1 A Bird That Whistles, Joni Mitchell

The long goodbye

2008-03-17T08:27:00.000-07:00

We have been busy saying goodbye. Miss Deli has been to France to say goodbye to her dad and his family and I have been to England to say goodbye to my mum, step-mum and some of my English friends. I also got some great tips and picked up a few essential items, as well as raiding my mum's travel gear from when she was in Nepal. And I found my old mosquito net that we used in 2001 and the re-treatment kit I bought back then.

Then at the weekend we had a party at Loop and Lostari. It was quite a low turnout (you know who you are!) but it was nice that it was relaxing for us. And we got some more great gifts (head torch, moleskins and 'kossu' long johns - all stuff on the list:)) as well as Jonhy Wee. It has been a bit of a strange week as we have both been ill - I am convinced it is pre-travel nerves - though we got the great news on Friday that the flat is rented for the whole year! So now we can really relax. In fact we have reached that point that, even with all the planning, as long as we leave the house on Sunday with our tickets and passports, everything else is a bonus.

This week there is Ernie's birthday on Thursday and the magnificent Beats & Styles at On The Rocks on Friday. And we will spending the rest of the week eating our favourite Finnish food while we still can - Oltermanni, Iguana pizza, Lio's fish, rye bread - we're gonna miss it.

Three songs about goodbyes
#3 Goodbye, Shady ("To everything I know, everything I need to let go" - I will post this here soon)
#2 Last Goodbye, Jeff Buckley ("Did you say 'no, this cant happen to me'")
#1 Singing My Song, Christina Aguilera ("Take the time to look at what is mine")

By popular demand

2008-03-06T03:24:00.000-08:00

Some bright spark asked for some music so, courtesy of My Flash Fetish, their funky music players and a little bit of html editing jiggery pokeri, you could and maybe should be listening to it now.

On the jukebox

-John Clay, Always On The Outside - my dad from about 1971 in his Donovan phase. Never one to miss the proverbial hop, skip and jump onto the latest bandwagon*, this is one of a collection of lovely understated tunes that spawned his debut single release, As She Flies Away. Key lyric; "I didn't know where to begin. Always on the outside looking in." Is it about fear of living; or the paradox of being the centre of attention while being onstage and yet still being detached and observing; or is it about the loneliness of travel? No idea. *The record books will show that the 'bandwagon' was actually only a 'wagon' until my father jumped on the punk wagon one weekend in '77 and created the band, Joe Cool and the Killers, in his image. It has been known as the 'bandwagon' ever since; so it says here.

-Chungking, The Count - It could be because it was at this time (was it 2000?) that it became clear that Sean and Jessica (and big Jamesy) had something pretty special going on. Maybe it is also because coincidentally we once tried to play a version of this in old jam band. It is mostly because I found this infectious, I got to play it live, and this reminds me about the best of Brighton. This is unreleased by the way so it is a bit naughty to have it here. Key lyric; "I need more satis-fraction" or maybe "I am odd and you are prime". That really is genius. They didn't have that class in the Sesame Street version.

-Beats & Styles, Everything is Everything - the encore number from the gigs I played this winter. Timeless power chords, hammering production, vital chat from Jus Red (coincidentally from Brighton), and a total joy to jump around to. Key lyrics; "In general shit will hit the fan" and "listen to the chorus and comprehend". This tune really grew on me in particular because, lurking behind the faux pop of the chorus, there is an articulate and enduring message. I haven't watched a Beats & Styles gig since maybe 2005 so I hope to catch them in On The Rocks on March 21st just before we leave.

Top 3 songwriting moments from people I know:
#3 Beginning, Ian (I like this so much I will put it on the jukebox)
#2 Mother's Day, Robin/Tony/Dre (I've got a very cheap video we made somewhere)
#1 Two faced, two timing tart, Barry (Laughing Gas) (sentimental reasons as it was the first song at the first gig in the first band, you get the idea, with Jamie and Dylan; charming lyrics too - a definite message!)

The missing list

2008-03-06T02:56:00.000-08:00

There are some things that are making us sad because we are going to miss them while we are away, in no particular order...

-Vibu & Kibu's wedding
-Hermanni & Helmi getting a year older
-Maija & Veeti speaking English better than Jamie's Finnish
-Iris getting a year older
-Beats & Styles gigs all over the place
-Arabia in summer and running out of our flat to play tennis
-Pallo's 10th football season (guess which one of us?)
-Hand bags (guess again?)
-Simon & Roz's new arrival
-Oma sauna
-Hietsu beach
-Clothes
-Frank & Ernie in the studio
-Tahko in February
-The Handan (digibox and hard drive - wow)
-Fantasy football
-Bodypump with Hanna
-Guitar toys
-Tiistaitreffit (ladies' night)
-Friends
-Family

Top 4 songs about not having regrets
#4 Eurythmics, Regrets
#3 Robbie Williams, No regrets
#2 T Pau, Bridge of spies
#1 Artful Dodger, Please don't turn me on

The Amazing Race

2008-03-03T04:45:00.000-08:00

It is less than three weeks until the start of a race around the world. Have you ever seen the Amazing Race TV show? I don’t like the action so much as the credit sequence and the captions for the contestants. The “dating models” pose with their backpacks and the “married seniors” open a pair of those ten thousand dollar dental jobs that are as American as they are frightening – I expect them to drip with blood as they devour the “sky diving sisters”.

In our dreams we are the “friendly couple” or “dating lottery winners” and, of course, we are hoping to replace some people we have met before on holiday as the “never ending holiday couple”.

Our nightmare is probably being the “annoying crying couple” (always a classic when we get emotional in the back of the bus!) or the “ex-round the world travellers”. Also it would be very uncool if were cast as the “recent exes” or “penniless wanderers”.

Understanding the Amazing Race
-Road Block – A road block is a task only one of the competing pair can complete, such as; eating meat or map reading. A road block is also where my cousin Ben (who is still at uni at the age of 30-something) gets very drunk and, late at night, takes items from roadworks and places them to block the middle of the road to confuse drunken motorists.
-Detour – This is what happens when you fall asleep on the bus or miss the turning to Yosemite.
-Fast Forward – This is what I will be doing when Bad Religion, Oasis or James Blunt come on our iPod. Or what Miss Deli will be doing when Christina Aguilera comes on.
Yield – This describes our decision making process whereby I acquiesce to Miss Deli’s superior intellect, will, insight and charm, and convince myself days later that it was my idea.

3 songs about races
-#3 Queen, Bicycle Race
-#2 Yello, The Race
-#1 Bad Religion, The Gray Race

Shopping

2008-03-01T02:28:00.000-08:00

One thing we know how to do is spend. So we've been going through the list. This week we have bought;

50 litre backpack for Miss Deli to carry all that beach wear; two good value down sleeping bags that are left & right zippers so we can zip them together and have a double (to give me maximum leg room); ruck sack bags (cheap bags so we can check our sacks in with normal baggage and hopefully help protect them during all those air miles); some secret pockets (I could tell you but I'd have to kill you); plastic sporks (it would be a bit daft to carry cutlery all the way); a tiny compass; Rough Guide Mexico & LP California (...here we come...); LP's Latin American Spanish phrasebook...

And we took back Thomas Cooks Driving in California book because, frankly, it was terrible. My abiding memory was in the San Francisco section where the book listed a whopping three different accommodation options all in the €€€ bracket - yeah, thanks. Oh and there was the classic lines "if you are not driving then SF is great" and "don't try to park in downtown SF" - I mean WTF - the book is called DRIVING in Cali - and, FFS, for 38€ the book should maybe suggest where to park anywhere in SF, probably the prime destination for anyone on a driving tour of California. Suffice to say I won't be buying a Thomas Cook publication again. I found it particularly annoying that they even tried to make the graphic design and cover artwork look like the LP series. Don't be fooled!

Oh, and the other teeny tiny thing we bought this week. 34 flights. Wow. I have 2 bulging flight ticket wallets filled with 17 flights each. And our collective wallet is over six thousand euros lighter. What a feeling! Of extreme wallet pain! We took the plunge and booked all our North American flight dates and Easter Island and Auckland. Our Santiago-Auckland flight is on 4th November. This was when we wanted, which was lucky, because 2nd and 3rd Nov were already booked!

You 'ave a ruhm?

2008-02-21T15:58:00.000-08:00

After many days of searching online and scouring Craigslist and all kinds of hotel and hostel sites, we were thinking that budget accommodation in Whistler was gonna be impossible to find. The hostels are either unclean or uncheap or badly located. But after emailing all the best deals we found the Clock Tower - time share condo complex in the centre of Whistler village right next to the lifts; self catering studio units for 60 USD per night. And it's paid for. With all this planning that's the first thing we've actually shelled out for (apart for some jabs). We are really doing this!