Medellin is a booming city with all amenities and picturesque setting, sprawled in a valley and up its hills. People are fiercely proud and their spanish sounds funny too. I was noticing more and more that lone women don´t travel in colombia and here i was the only. Bunch of foreigners here for the girls, they could never quite get, and the cheap coke which doesn´t quite crack it, nor is it what colombians prefer to take for various reasons. But when i finally caught up with Lorena, who´s also back for holidays, I had sore jaw from a grinning kind of night.
We were going to go dancing, since she is a freak on the dance floor, but when everyone´s budget got tight, she suggested we go to a little ol plaza where young folks hang out. Tiny asymmetrical plaza called parke del periodista(journalist) or parke del guanabana, because there´s a guanabana tree there, or more appropriately, parke del marijuana. There´s some sculptures (one is of person sitting on a bench made of dark metal and when i saw a real person sitting next to it, i became mesmerised), other benches and concrete to park your arse, lolly vendors and pot vendors. Young folks congregate here, have a cheap beer from the small bars around and merrily smoke away. There are metal heads and nerds, middle classes and ones without clean clothes, others with jelled hair, hot babes in stilettos and scraggly-haired ones too, other young girls walk in with adorned bodies but undeveloped and column-like curves, long shinny hair, bringing a cigarette to their budding mouths - clearly not long time smokers. Police do their obligatory patrol/stroll at which point people stop blowing smoke, and they´re on their way again.
La onda estuvo muuuuy buena!
There was a good feeling in the air, friends were bumping into each other every which way, and there was a hum of conversation and laughter in the air. My glazed eyes looked observedly. We picked up 6 friends of Lorena´s and allll was good. I was a hit for a little when some of them prodded me for all the word to describe the state of being HIGH. Needless to say we laughed about it for ages. And what´s more, as we walked by up a street in the balmy night, folks were out and there were even some hovering around each other ...rapping.
Next, bus to Cartagena and the coast.
martes, febrero 27, 2007
domingo, febrero 25, 2007
They´re checking under the car...
Rosana and went to a shopping cetre to see a film and briefly i escaped my life and emersed myself in fantasyland and other people´s troubles. As we entered the carpark, Rosana stops the car, unlocks the doors, and pulls down her window to talk to one of the 4 security guards. They open the back seat doors, look inside the trunck, and slid mirrors under the car. "They´re looking for bombs, but chances are they don´t even know what one looks like."
Bogota is fascinating but it isn't spring time all year round like i've been told. Staying at Rosana's place, her folks doted over me and kept me safe and well. Folks everywhere continue to be ultra curtious.
Down the street we went and there were many lone gitarists in semi-vacant bar-restaurants, battling away. We seem to end up in one with only a handful of people, and 2 middle-aged drunk men, not in that bad a shape, slurring and deforming the musician's song. The very attentive waitress was receiving thanks, when the one of th e duo explained to her that his mate was looking for a woonderful woman just like her, and that what was on offer was a single man, without kids and loaded - that's literally what he said to get his mate laid. Sad old rich professionals.
I got together with the my other colombian mate, Jennifers, and we checked out her old uni, the national university of colombia which was buzzing with youth. Later that night we went to a great ol venue, one that she went to as a uni student. After talking myself in, having no documents and all (all excuses for a tip), i got in and found an awsom vibe, of tiny tables and chairs that squeezed out a little dance space, space to dance to salsa, reggae, african rhythms and coastal colombian carnaval beats... little air despite the tall ceilings, and lots of bodies sweating out alcohol. Indeed i danced the night away all the way till 3 in the morning when the city has to go to sleep. But aparently it kicks arse..
Bogota is fascinating but it isn't spring time all year round like i've been told. Staying at Rosana's place, her folks doted over me and kept me safe and well. Folks everywhere continue to be ultra curtious.
Down the street we went and there were many lone gitarists in semi-vacant bar-restaurants, battling away. We seem to end up in one with only a handful of people, and 2 middle-aged drunk men, not in that bad a shape, slurring and deforming the musician's song. The very attentive waitress was receiving thanks, when the one of th e duo explained to her that his mate was looking for a woonderful woman just like her, and that what was on offer was a single man, without kids and loaded - that's literally what he said to get his mate laid. Sad old rich professionals.
I got together with the my other colombian mate, Jennifers, and we checked out her old uni, the national university of colombia which was buzzing with youth. Later that night we went to a great ol venue, one that she went to as a uni student. After talking myself in, having no documents and all (all excuses for a tip), i got in and found an awsom vibe, of tiny tables and chairs that squeezed out a little dance space, space to dance to salsa, reggae, african rhythms and coastal colombian carnaval beats... little air despite the tall ceilings, and lots of bodies sweating out alcohol. Indeed i danced the night away all the way till 3 in the morning when the city has to go to sleep. But aparently it kicks arse..
domingo, febrero 18, 2007
Coffee never tasted sooo good!
Cali supposed to be a party place but i decided to go paragliding instead. Oh that was gooood, and made friends. Called an instructor, Rob, but he couldn´t take me on cos his mum was visiting from Germany and didn´t have time. Nevertheless, gave me instructions how to get there, out of town somewhere passed Palmira and then land in Los Cielos, and promised to pick me up on his motorcycle and passed me on to another instructor on the side of a dirt track - not that he had to. So I squeeze into a 4W and up we go into the hills. I was the first one to jump and a bit nervous but in a very excited way. There´s nothing to it, just keep running off the cliff, is all i was told. I think i´ve got i new hobby when i get back home. Then Rob came by again, cos he had seen me fly and land from his home porch, and we hung out at his farm nearby talking about how living away from our home land was so much better in so many ways - i´m so unpatriotic. At least he was able to tell me of the amazing generosity he encountered when he´d travelled to Australia. It´s always different from the outside..
On his porch, looking into his garden in the sultry heat, i saw amazing butterflies, blue, black, yellow, orange, with big long legs prancing around flowers, humming birds, bees, beetles the size of my thumb zooming around in stereo from one side of my head to the other, and eagles flew above. It seemed like heaven. Out here in the country, there was pockets of silence, but not always, cos just about everywhere there are people living you´ll hear salsa music or the like.
Farewelled him and went to the landing stripped again cos Daniel, my instructor who going to Manilla, NSW, to compete in hangliding competitions, was going to give me a lift back to Cali at the end of the day. There at the landing strip again, i mounted another jeep and visited another hill top and hung out with other gliders and watching dozens of others glide. The dusty ride was great too. We passed a river tumbling down a rocky hillside were folks from Cali or surroundings had come for a day trip to dip toes in fresh water. Well, more than toes, bikinis were out, kids were running and screaming, cars were parked all over. At one passing there was water spraying out of a pipe from a brick construction, kids playing in the water, woman with arse against the sprouting water outlet, and as we drove by kids began to splash water all over us. My window didn´t work.. Later in the day, another type of crowd was congregating, dolls and babes: skin on the line, tight pants, push-ups, hair-jell and motorbikes. hmmm. My jaw had dropped so far down, i couldn´t move fast enough to get a photo.
Even though i wasn´t done with Cali, i decided to head for La Zona Cafetera, coffee country. Needless to say that i´ve taken up my favourite habit of drinking coffee again, cos coffee in Peru, Chile and Ecuador doesn´t even come close, and neither does Argentina in some places, and so i had given it up. While i was in Lima in a hostel for 2 days, i met and chatted with a Colombian couple, Margarita and Lole, for a few hours who didn´t hesitate to invite me to stay with them when i reach their home town. So then i arrive and meet Margarita in Pereira, a beautiful country town, amongst hills and mountains. This whole region´s like this and the right conditions for coffee cultivations. Off she takes me to Finlandia, a picturesque village where we indulge in coffee and cigarettes and meet her mate Mauro. The plaza is green and full of folks, fruit stalls abound and i tried this funny fruit, chontaduro, were you add either salt, lemon, or honey, or all of them together like i did. This country, like Brazil, is a fruitlovers heaven. After that, off to Salento, another pocket of paradise amongst lush green hills with blue mountain ranges in the distance, where we sit to have trout served over a patacon, a special banana, platano, that is cooked, mashed, rolled out thin and then fried. With all the bananas in australia i can´t believe we´re not indulging in this stuff!
I stay that night at Lole´s place in Manizales, in fact we all do. This kind of small town is precious also, university town, lots of bars and young folks, hills and scenic views - not a place to own a pushbike. Next day we drive to parke nacional Los Nevados. The Andes that start at the very south of chile and argentina split up in 3 mountain ranges when it reaches colombia, Los Nevados is one of them. Illequiped as i was, we didn´t quiet reach the snowy mountain peaks, next time. But let me get back to food, breakfast. It usually includes hot chocolate, not coffee, but it`s like nothing you`ve ever had. Or, another delight, agua panela con queso. Unrefined solidified sugarcane sugar (don´t know how to describe it) is served in a bowl of hot water where you can drop in cubes of white cheese, let it warm up and then spoon it out and slurp. Served with empanadas, cheesy bread buns, and toasted arepas (toasted maize bread). It´s a wonder i´m not overweight.
That night i thought i´d go and spend the night in Salento cos there´s a national park nearby and coffee farms. But it was late in the evening, missed the last bus from where i was leaving... short story, as Mauro was heading home to Finlandia told me i could stay at his little ol place with his mum for the night and we could go bush walking around there the next day. Sweet. But when we get there grandpa´s there and so are aunties and uncles and nephews etc, cos his cooking a gourmet delight for his going away - married to and english lass he´s going to live with her in London. Next day we do a hell of a bush walk where we can hear but can´t see the shy monkeys in a plethora of rich flora. But it doesn´t end there. That night we go to his other going-away with his mates. Back to Pereira, on the outskirts, we bus it to a friend´s finca (farm house) to spend the night and share it with a starry sky and fireflies - they´re so magical. Next day i´m supposed to head off again but delays and stuff i end up at Lole´s parents´house with him and Margarita, again honoured with food in a family home. I´ve been soooo taken care of.
I wonna stay here forever!!!!!!!!!!!!
On his porch, looking into his garden in the sultry heat, i saw amazing butterflies, blue, black, yellow, orange, with big long legs prancing around flowers, humming birds, bees, beetles the size of my thumb zooming around in stereo from one side of my head to the other, and eagles flew above. It seemed like heaven. Out here in the country, there was pockets of silence, but not always, cos just about everywhere there are people living you´ll hear salsa music or the like.
Farewelled him and went to the landing stripped again cos Daniel, my instructor who going to Manilla, NSW, to compete in hangliding competitions, was going to give me a lift back to Cali at the end of the day. There at the landing strip again, i mounted another jeep and visited another hill top and hung out with other gliders and watching dozens of others glide. The dusty ride was great too. We passed a river tumbling down a rocky hillside were folks from Cali or surroundings had come for a day trip to dip toes in fresh water. Well, more than toes, bikinis were out, kids were running and screaming, cars were parked all over. At one passing there was water spraying out of a pipe from a brick construction, kids playing in the water, woman with arse against the sprouting water outlet, and as we drove by kids began to splash water all over us. My window didn´t work.. Later in the day, another type of crowd was congregating, dolls and babes: skin on the line, tight pants, push-ups, hair-jell and motorbikes. hmmm. My jaw had dropped so far down, i couldn´t move fast enough to get a photo.
Even though i wasn´t done with Cali, i decided to head for La Zona Cafetera, coffee country. Needless to say that i´ve taken up my favourite habit of drinking coffee again, cos coffee in Peru, Chile and Ecuador doesn´t even come close, and neither does Argentina in some places, and so i had given it up. While i was in Lima in a hostel for 2 days, i met and chatted with a Colombian couple, Margarita and Lole, for a few hours who didn´t hesitate to invite me to stay with them when i reach their home town. So then i arrive and meet Margarita in Pereira, a beautiful country town, amongst hills and mountains. This whole region´s like this and the right conditions for coffee cultivations. Off she takes me to Finlandia, a picturesque village where we indulge in coffee and cigarettes and meet her mate Mauro. The plaza is green and full of folks, fruit stalls abound and i tried this funny fruit, chontaduro, were you add either salt, lemon, or honey, or all of them together like i did. This country, like Brazil, is a fruitlovers heaven. After that, off to Salento, another pocket of paradise amongst lush green hills with blue mountain ranges in the distance, where we sit to have trout served over a patacon, a special banana, platano, that is cooked, mashed, rolled out thin and then fried. With all the bananas in australia i can´t believe we´re not indulging in this stuff!
I stay that night at Lole´s place in Manizales, in fact we all do. This kind of small town is precious also, university town, lots of bars and young folks, hills and scenic views - not a place to own a pushbike. Next day we drive to parke nacional Los Nevados. The Andes that start at the very south of chile and argentina split up in 3 mountain ranges when it reaches colombia, Los Nevados is one of them. Illequiped as i was, we didn´t quiet reach the snowy mountain peaks, next time. But let me get back to food, breakfast. It usually includes hot chocolate, not coffee, but it`s like nothing you`ve ever had. Or, another delight, agua panela con queso. Unrefined solidified sugarcane sugar (don´t know how to describe it) is served in a bowl of hot water where you can drop in cubes of white cheese, let it warm up and then spoon it out and slurp. Served with empanadas, cheesy bread buns, and toasted arepas (toasted maize bread). It´s a wonder i´m not overweight.
That night i thought i´d go and spend the night in Salento cos there´s a national park nearby and coffee farms. But it was late in the evening, missed the last bus from where i was leaving... short story, as Mauro was heading home to Finlandia told me i could stay at his little ol place with his mum for the night and we could go bush walking around there the next day. Sweet. But when we get there grandpa´s there and so are aunties and uncles and nephews etc, cos his cooking a gourmet delight for his going away - married to and english lass he´s going to live with her in London. Next day we do a hell of a bush walk where we can hear but can´t see the shy monkeys in a plethora of rich flora. But it doesn´t end there. That night we go to his other going-away with his mates. Back to Pereira, on the outskirts, we bus it to a friend´s finca (farm house) to spend the night and share it with a starry sky and fireflies - they´re so magical. Next day i´m supposed to head off again but delays and stuff i end up at Lole´s parents´house with him and Margarita, again honoured with food in a family home. I´ve been soooo taken care of.
I wonna stay here forever!!!!!!!!!!!!
jueves, febrero 01, 2007
And... touch down!
Smooth entry into one of the world most feared countries, no hickups and made it with my mate to Pasto, a quiet southern town where folks aren´t used to my funny accent and so i tend to keep my mouth shut letting Rosana do the talking. Pasto is at the foot of an active Volcano, level 2, which occasionally puffs up. Breathing masks hang right inside the front door along with the house keys. We´re staying with friends of Rosana´s, who have a small but welcoming home and who took us around for the city tour, which needed only 1 day. Everywhere i look women are wearing clothes so ultra tight and girlie, i choke just looking at them, but somehow beautifully adorened. Who would´ve thought i could look dowdy, ME! I hesitantly said to Roasana that i might need at least one outfit that´s not hanging off of me like a sack of potatoes, so now we´re on the look out for ropa apretadita como una berenjena...
I didn´t have plans on getting to the Pacific coast but knowing it was so close we decided to take a two-day trip to Tumaca and catch the rays. On a minibus, as you do, winding mountains and more pot-holes than you can possible swirve around, we carry along some beautiful landscape, agriculture like patchwork quilt, and some of the most impoverished lands of the country. About 2 hours from the coast the ground gets lusher, the humidity and heat starts to slap you around every which way, coco trees, banana plantations and the endless military checkpoints. No drama really, and no paramilitary or guerrilla in these parts, probably because of the strong military presence and not a stronghold of the former - be assured loved ones, i choose my destinations wisely and with ample international and local advice.
Getting closer into town we see housing, on the shores of this kind of delta river-sea landscape, built rudimentary on stilts and very modest looking. The population on both coasts of columbia, the pacific and the atlantic, is predominantly black, and, suprise, lacking in infrastructure and social and economic benefits that are more likely to be enjoyed by capital cities and whatnot. Off our bus and on to urban transport to the seaside to get to our beachview lodgings - shame the tiolet doesn´t come with a toilet seat. Fish and seafood is great here, and you get folks carrying fresh fish, in the heat, door to door. And have i mentioned the million varieties of corn AND maize cooked in alllll sorts of ways, and although i´m finding hard to have every day, i know i going to miss it later when i´m gone. The row of hut-restaurants on the sand each have music blaring out of them which is a shame cos you can´t make out any one of them. The beach has grey sand.
We were in the disorganised centre of town where there is a concrete football field and tall black boys are playing. Sitting on a bench a young man next to us is intrigued and needs to know where we´re from. At first i joke and say i´m local but he sets me straight by highlighting the color of my arm next to his, he smiles innocently lettingthe facts speak for themselves. He wants to know what australia is like and i start by saying that i don´t even like it. That shocks him cos people generally like where they´re from, he says. I feel i have to explain, justify and exemplify. Life is individualistic, i say, and solitary. There aren´t people all over the street all day long, music isn´t heard on the street neither, folks don´t sing their way to the supermarket, we´re dictated by the car and long distances, and we don´t dance ...well. He looks at me in horror. I´m checking through in my head if what i said is in fact fair about my people. I continue explaining (or try) the different living conditions and landscape of australian life, more to myself it seems than anyone. It starts to rain and Rosana and i turn around to each other like scared cats. We have to catch a bus, we say, and he says good bye and runs off confused.
Out here in international wilderness, i´m constantly presenting and defining not just me but my national identity, but this is not a precise science. I´m not sure i´m doing a good job, and why when people ask me whether to immigrate to australia i tell them there´s better places to go to and i give them the run down of all the things they´ll be missing..? ...my issues? But I AM glad i´m coming back soon, i´ve got it all worked out, well, most of it. (Hey, comments are welcomed but sign in other than anonymous)
So back to Pasto and on the way to Cali, where i get dumped on my own. Later.
I didn´t have plans on getting to the Pacific coast but knowing it was so close we decided to take a two-day trip to Tumaca and catch the rays. On a minibus, as you do, winding mountains and more pot-holes than you can possible swirve around, we carry along some beautiful landscape, agriculture like patchwork quilt, and some of the most impoverished lands of the country. About 2 hours from the coast the ground gets lusher, the humidity and heat starts to slap you around every which way, coco trees, banana plantations and the endless military checkpoints. No drama really, and no paramilitary or guerrilla in these parts, probably because of the strong military presence and not a stronghold of the former - be assured loved ones, i choose my destinations wisely and with ample international and local advice.
Getting closer into town we see housing, on the shores of this kind of delta river-sea landscape, built rudimentary on stilts and very modest looking. The population on both coasts of columbia, the pacific and the atlantic, is predominantly black, and, suprise, lacking in infrastructure and social and economic benefits that are more likely to be enjoyed by capital cities and whatnot. Off our bus and on to urban transport to the seaside to get to our beachview lodgings - shame the tiolet doesn´t come with a toilet seat. Fish and seafood is great here, and you get folks carrying fresh fish, in the heat, door to door. And have i mentioned the million varieties of corn AND maize cooked in alllll sorts of ways, and although i´m finding hard to have every day, i know i going to miss it later when i´m gone. The row of hut-restaurants on the sand each have music blaring out of them which is a shame cos you can´t make out any one of them. The beach has grey sand.
We were in the disorganised centre of town where there is a concrete football field and tall black boys are playing. Sitting on a bench a young man next to us is intrigued and needs to know where we´re from. At first i joke and say i´m local but he sets me straight by highlighting the color of my arm next to his, he smiles innocently lettingthe facts speak for themselves. He wants to know what australia is like and i start by saying that i don´t even like it. That shocks him cos people generally like where they´re from, he says. I feel i have to explain, justify and exemplify. Life is individualistic, i say, and solitary. There aren´t people all over the street all day long, music isn´t heard on the street neither, folks don´t sing their way to the supermarket, we´re dictated by the car and long distances, and we don´t dance ...well. He looks at me in horror. I´m checking through in my head if what i said is in fact fair about my people. I continue explaining (or try) the different living conditions and landscape of australian life, more to myself it seems than anyone. It starts to rain and Rosana and i turn around to each other like scared cats. We have to catch a bus, we say, and he says good bye and runs off confused.
Out here in international wilderness, i´m constantly presenting and defining not just me but my national identity, but this is not a precise science. I´m not sure i´m doing a good job, and why when people ask me whether to immigrate to australia i tell them there´s better places to go to and i give them the run down of all the things they´ll be missing..? ...my issues? But I AM glad i´m coming back soon, i´ve got it all worked out, well, most of it. (Hey, comments are welcomed but sign in other than anonymous)
So back to Pasto and on the way to Cali, where i get dumped on my own. Later.
sábado, enero 27, 2007
Cristina, hasta cuando te quedas en Ecuador?
...was the question i kept hearing on the salsa dancefloor.
To finish off with Peru: the mini buses, which function as blackmarket transport. We caught several of them, and in one of them, fit to seat 15 midgets including the driver, actually squeezed in 23, 4 of us sitting in that little space behind the driver facing the audience and when we thought how could they fit all this in, these shoved in another 4 blokes who hunched standing. The difference between a $1 fare to one 7 or 10 times as much - and who doesn´t know me as cheapskate. Oh, and another delight i tasted was anticuchos which is pieces of beef heart on a scewer, barbequed and served with corn, followed by picarones (donuts with syrup) - delicious! And the cebiche... yes Chile makes great cebiche but that´s not to say it isn´t spectacular in Peru. Cebiche is seafood or fish, raw but cooked by the acid of lemon juice and salt, mixed with onions or purple olive paste, or chilli paste... god it was good.
So we arrive in Ecuador 17 January in the city of Cuenca. A pretty colonial town with an awsome museum, half of which is dedicated to the ethnographic study of the country. The best bit i have to say was seeing the shrunken heads - yes that´s right. One of the practices of the (iforgottheirname)peoples who still live in the Amazon jungle was to cut of the heads their enemy, clean out and remove everything from inside the head, then boil it in specially selected hearbs which preserve it and srink it, sew up orifices and then let it out to dry, of course. It´s really wierd, shunken heads the size or a bit bigger than your fist with long hair and all.
Stayed there a few days and took a day trip to visit a few villages nearby, Gualaceo, Chordeleg and Sigsig. In Gualaceo we had a chat with an old women sitting in the park and making straw hats, but we couldn´t take her picture because whe was afraid her photo might end up in the wrong hands and she´d get bewitched or something horribly similar. Chordoleg is famous for it´s jewellery, gold and silver, so we went nuts for a few hours. But i had to get my arse to Sigsig cos they´re famous for making hats and i wanted one! Got there on a saturday thinking market day would be huge for that but instead we found a little festival in the town square with performances and giggling girls in big red skirts and 5 or 6 whole roasted pigs being sold in makeshift restaurants along the side of the street. I lucked out with the hat market but after roaming around the village for a while, up and down hills, i made do and found something that would protect my porcelain features...
Folks seem to sell anything they get their hands on. I passed a corner store that not only sold furniture but also paper cups and plates and other cutlery, sandwiches and shewing-gum, notebooks, hats and T-shirts etc, but just a few of each. Or is the blue glowing stereo under the seat of the driver of a horse drawn cart weirder? But how about these bananas here! I´ve never been a fan of bananas other than their plain fruit form, but there are these huge green ones which you just can´t eat raw and there cooked in a variety of delectable ways. They can be barbequed and served with main meals - especially on rice, or thinly sliced and fried just like potatoe chips with salt, or otherwise with a bit of sugar, mmmm.
They road north to Riobamba we took by train, well, one old bus on train tracks literally. But there is a side trip which we took around the nearby mountains on the same "train" were we got to sit on top of it like looneys to get a good view and to touch the clouds floating around us. Our one-carriage train had to stop several times to measure the width of the tracks, make sure it was ok, as well as to scrape the fresh carcas of just run over dog.
We get on buses galore: Riobamba to Latacunga, get on a local ute in Zumbahue to arrive to beautiful Lake Quilotoa. The 10-house village, at about 4000m above sealevel, hasn´t got much more than rudementary lodgings for freaks who like to hike around the rim of an extinct (as of 300 years ago) volcano, in which lies a lake. Pretty as a picture but i sure as hell didn´t trek around it for 6 hours. I decided i´d just go down to the shores and up again.
23rd January and we´re in Quito and i´m still getting used to using US dollars. A plethora of churches and cathedrals and another massive and important colonial centre. So what do i do? Go to a SALSOTECA of course. Yes, salsa venue and Rosana is in heaven dancing away. I was shy at first but hell, boys kept asking me to dance and etiquette tells you to accept, so wiggled my hips i did. Today i went to the centre of the world, 0´ latitude. I weighed 1kg lighter on the line and saw water swirl in oposite directions on the north and southern sides of it - very interesting.
Heard of the ecuatorian artist called Oswaldo Guayasamin (1919-1999)? Went to his museum and discovered a artistic genius interested in social justice, also a buddy of Fidel. Awestruck i was, and took endless amounts of pictures of his work. Check him out.
I´m leaving Quito tomorrow and should be crossing the border into Columbia within days. Wish me luck.
To finish off with Peru: the mini buses, which function as blackmarket transport. We caught several of them, and in one of them, fit to seat 15 midgets including the driver, actually squeezed in 23, 4 of us sitting in that little space behind the driver facing the audience and when we thought how could they fit all this in, these shoved in another 4 blokes who hunched standing. The difference between a $1 fare to one 7 or 10 times as much - and who doesn´t know me as cheapskate. Oh, and another delight i tasted was anticuchos which is pieces of beef heart on a scewer, barbequed and served with corn, followed by picarones (donuts with syrup) - delicious! And the cebiche... yes Chile makes great cebiche but that´s not to say it isn´t spectacular in Peru. Cebiche is seafood or fish, raw but cooked by the acid of lemon juice and salt, mixed with onions or purple olive paste, or chilli paste... god it was good.
So we arrive in Ecuador 17 January in the city of Cuenca. A pretty colonial town with an awsome museum, half of which is dedicated to the ethnographic study of the country. The best bit i have to say was seeing the shrunken heads - yes that´s right. One of the practices of the (iforgottheirname)peoples who still live in the Amazon jungle was to cut of the heads their enemy, clean out and remove everything from inside the head, then boil it in specially selected hearbs which preserve it and srink it, sew up orifices and then let it out to dry, of course. It´s really wierd, shunken heads the size or a bit bigger than your fist with long hair and all.
Stayed there a few days and took a day trip to visit a few villages nearby, Gualaceo, Chordeleg and Sigsig. In Gualaceo we had a chat with an old women sitting in the park and making straw hats, but we couldn´t take her picture because whe was afraid her photo might end up in the wrong hands and she´d get bewitched or something horribly similar. Chordoleg is famous for it´s jewellery, gold and silver, so we went nuts for a few hours. But i had to get my arse to Sigsig cos they´re famous for making hats and i wanted one! Got there on a saturday thinking market day would be huge for that but instead we found a little festival in the town square with performances and giggling girls in big red skirts and 5 or 6 whole roasted pigs being sold in makeshift restaurants along the side of the street. I lucked out with the hat market but after roaming around the village for a while, up and down hills, i made do and found something that would protect my porcelain features...
Folks seem to sell anything they get their hands on. I passed a corner store that not only sold furniture but also paper cups and plates and other cutlery, sandwiches and shewing-gum, notebooks, hats and T-shirts etc, but just a few of each. Or is the blue glowing stereo under the seat of the driver of a horse drawn cart weirder? But how about these bananas here! I´ve never been a fan of bananas other than their plain fruit form, but there are these huge green ones which you just can´t eat raw and there cooked in a variety of delectable ways. They can be barbequed and served with main meals - especially on rice, or thinly sliced and fried just like potatoe chips with salt, or otherwise with a bit of sugar, mmmm.
They road north to Riobamba we took by train, well, one old bus on train tracks literally. But there is a side trip which we took around the nearby mountains on the same "train" were we got to sit on top of it like looneys to get a good view and to touch the clouds floating around us. Our one-carriage train had to stop several times to measure the width of the tracks, make sure it was ok, as well as to scrape the fresh carcas of just run over dog.
We get on buses galore: Riobamba to Latacunga, get on a local ute in Zumbahue to arrive to beautiful Lake Quilotoa. The 10-house village, at about 4000m above sealevel, hasn´t got much more than rudementary lodgings for freaks who like to hike around the rim of an extinct (as of 300 years ago) volcano, in which lies a lake. Pretty as a picture but i sure as hell didn´t trek around it for 6 hours. I decided i´d just go down to the shores and up again.
23rd January and we´re in Quito and i´m still getting used to using US dollars. A plethora of churches and cathedrals and another massive and important colonial centre. So what do i do? Go to a SALSOTECA of course. Yes, salsa venue and Rosana is in heaven dancing away. I was shy at first but hell, boys kept asking me to dance and etiquette tells you to accept, so wiggled my hips i did. Today i went to the centre of the world, 0´ latitude. I weighed 1kg lighter on the line and saw water swirl in oposite directions on the north and southern sides of it - very interesting.
Heard of the ecuatorian artist called Oswaldo Guayasamin (1919-1999)? Went to his museum and discovered a artistic genius interested in social justice, also a buddy of Fidel. Awestruck i was, and took endless amounts of pictures of his work. Check him out.
I´m leaving Quito tomorrow and should be crossing the border into Columbia within days. Wish me luck.
viernes, enero 26, 2007
A sad day for Ecuador
Yesterday the news reported the accidental death, or unofficial assassination, of the only female minister in parliament in Quito, the minister of defense, Guadalupe Larriba. She and her 17 year old daughter, together with several other military personnel, were all killed in an military excercise involving 2 helicopters near the pacific coast, very near the controversial US military bases.
Barely 2 weeks had passed since she had announced that there would be investigations into the deaths and missing persons during the period when Leon Febre Corder presided between 1984-88 and who supported not only the US bases but also the petroleum companies who installed themselves in the Amazon. There they entered without consultating the indigenous populations, obviously polluting without repercussions, taking 60 per cent of profits out of the country (the rest going to the government), and where a court case continues to this day regarding the companies legitimacy in the region.
Jaime Roldós Alguilera was the president in 1981 who following the wishes Ecuadorians promised to unconditionally remove US bases from Ecuador. He too died with his wife in a "plane accident" soon after his proclamation.
Was this type of terrorist activity making news in your part of the world?
Barely 2 weeks had passed since she had announced that there would be investigations into the deaths and missing persons during the period when Leon Febre Corder presided between 1984-88 and who supported not only the US bases but also the petroleum companies who installed themselves in the Amazon. There they entered without consultating the indigenous populations, obviously polluting without repercussions, taking 60 per cent of profits out of the country (the rest going to the government), and where a court case continues to this day regarding the companies legitimacy in the region.
Jaime Roldós Alguilera was the president in 1981 who following the wishes Ecuadorians promised to unconditionally remove US bases from Ecuador. He too died with his wife in a "plane accident" soon after his proclamation.
Was this type of terrorist activity making news in your part of the world?
martes, enero 16, 2007
Lima, what a suprise...
After having a mouthful of one of the most visited places around - Cuzco - i made a bee-line for Lima. Why another big city? because my mate Luciana, who i know from BA cos she´s studying there and working for an NGO no less in the south of argentina, is back visiting her family and stuff and i just want to hang out with her and do absolutely nothing, other than decide my future bus trajectory. I arrive there and leave a message for her, and when she gets back to me i tells her: i want to see you, son`t need to do anything, no city tours no museums no nuffing. Sweet with her cos she´s got better things to do than city tours, like catch up with her wonderful and extensive family, finish a report for work while i did my much needed vegetating, visit her lecturers at university where i get to sit in group tutorials, see her friends play live at a jazz venue, go to the local pub, and yep, there i am tagging along like a little lamb everywhere she goes. I even took notes on how a loving family actually works - never too late to learn. I settled in just fine, but thank goddess for the little spanish i know. Not to boast, but there was no single foreigner where i went ...ok, maybe that is boasting. This is exactly what i was looking for and this makes it all worthwhile. And the city itself, well i did stick to the nicer middleclass neighbourhoods, and sometimes it even reminded me of melbourne, except the shorline in melbourne hasn`t got a 100m or so drop.
Alas! i had to leave and head for Trujillo, a seaside town in northern Peru highly recommended by Luciana for it`s newly descovered history. And who sits next to me but a PhD archeology student with an amazing passion for her country`s ancient history, and who didn`t stop short of writing notes for me of all the ancient civilazations that roamed the north of Perù (which is the zone i had to restrict her to). Trujillo and the surrounding areas are full of pre-Columbian ruins of ancient civilizations which rival the renowned Incas and who preempted their development and success, of the Incas that is, until the Spanish of course. Absolutely incredible and any archeologist dream and not to mention a novice`s like me, dating from 10,000bc to 1470ad, where conquering groups built ontop of the defeated and so, can you imagine what lies under metres of sand? Layers and layers of life! I`ve seen elaborate and massive ceremonial grounds and palaces, exceptional royal tombs - El señor de Sipan from the Chimù, loads of pyramids built by the Tucume, inticate and fascinating wall carvings and pantings. In one site one wall had carvings of fish winding up along the whole wall, why? El Niño - the massive tidal waves that came in and flushed whole cities, yet wouldn`t quite wipe them out because they lived to tell the story. (take note Paco you`d be interested if you`re not already ahead of me there)
Anyway, 3 days of hardcore archeological exploring and museum visiting made me and my newly found columbian travelling companion, Rosana, head for Mancora, a lazy beach village, setting the scene for bikini sunburn and jewellery shopping off the streets from artisans. It just so happens that she´s living in Buenos Aires too, studying, and had done more or less the same treck from there, heading to Bogotà to spend time with family during summer break. Exactly my root. But once again, my travel buddy gets a hard time by immigration - border of Peru and Ecuador, the Ecuadorians - her neighbours - won`t let her through without a police check. Lucky she was prepared but still aghast and broken by the third degree treatement. Me? no problems again, not unless i`m crossing into Estonia or Slovenia, and even then it`s not so bad compared to Diane´s frisking.
Alas! i had to leave and head for Trujillo, a seaside town in northern Peru highly recommended by Luciana for it`s newly descovered history. And who sits next to me but a PhD archeology student with an amazing passion for her country`s ancient history, and who didn`t stop short of writing notes for me of all the ancient civilazations that roamed the north of Perù (which is the zone i had to restrict her to). Trujillo and the surrounding areas are full of pre-Columbian ruins of ancient civilizations which rival the renowned Incas and who preempted their development and success, of the Incas that is, until the Spanish of course. Absolutely incredible and any archeologist dream and not to mention a novice`s like me, dating from 10,000bc to 1470ad, where conquering groups built ontop of the defeated and so, can you imagine what lies under metres of sand? Layers and layers of life! I`ve seen elaborate and massive ceremonial grounds and palaces, exceptional royal tombs - El señor de Sipan from the Chimù, loads of pyramids built by the Tucume, inticate and fascinating wall carvings and pantings. In one site one wall had carvings of fish winding up along the whole wall, why? El Niño - the massive tidal waves that came in and flushed whole cities, yet wouldn`t quite wipe them out because they lived to tell the story. (take note Paco you`d be interested if you`re not already ahead of me there)
Anyway, 3 days of hardcore archeological exploring and museum visiting made me and my newly found columbian travelling companion, Rosana, head for Mancora, a lazy beach village, setting the scene for bikini sunburn and jewellery shopping off the streets from artisans. It just so happens that she´s living in Buenos Aires too, studying, and had done more or less the same treck from there, heading to Bogotà to spend time with family during summer break. Exactly my root. But once again, my travel buddy gets a hard time by immigration - border of Peru and Ecuador, the Ecuadorians - her neighbours - won`t let her through without a police check. Lucky she was prepared but still aghast and broken by the third degree treatement. Me? no problems again, not unless i`m crossing into Estonia or Slovenia, and even then it`s not so bad compared to Diane´s frisking.
lunes, enero 08, 2007
Still in Lima, but on my way to Paradise
I was rudely awakened on my bus ride by an anouncement that told passangers that we were going to be given a crummy breakfast, and they were gong to give me a watered down instant coffee that i would almost finish until i saw a little ant floating inside. "There´s an ant in my coffee" i complained. Hmm, "would you like another one Miss?". Let´s just say that was 3 days ago and i´m still ok. But the rest of my trip till i reached Lima looked weird from my window, misty and foggy i couldn´t see a thing, and this went on for 3-4 hours.
Lima is meant to be my chill out time, didn´t want to see anything or do anything, just make a few plans. Been in a hostel for 2 days already and meant a friendly colombian couple, like all the colombians i know are. I learnt more about colombia and I´ve been thrilled to bits about gong there now. DREAM COME TRUE! (Bolivia can wait). Got people in coffee country, Bogota, Medillin and lots of advice for when i reach the caribbean. I´ll make a stop over in Ecuador and maybe visit a new made friend in Venezuela.
Geez, i later found out that it wasn`t a military march but a bunch of police cadets... still, they were kick arse dancers.
Lima is meant to be my chill out time, didn´t want to see anything or do anything, just make a few plans. Been in a hostel for 2 days already and meant a friendly colombian couple, like all the colombians i know are. I learnt more about colombia and I´ve been thrilled to bits about gong there now. DREAM COME TRUE! (Bolivia can wait). Got people in coffee country, Bogota, Medillin and lots of advice for when i reach the caribbean. I´ll make a stop over in Ecuador and maybe visit a new made friend in Venezuela.
Geez, i later found out that it wasn`t a military march but a bunch of police cadets... still, they were kick arse dancers.
jueves, enero 04, 2007
A military parade where marching looks like a dance
Who would have thought Puno would be a happening place. Last night we were going to try new year´s eve all over again cos of all the hickups that we had on the original night. So we started with a bit of garlic bread to line the stomach and beer before going to an small but interesting bar on the little main strip of town. There we bagan to treat ourselves to cocktails. Not that they were particularly strong but at this altitude (3,800m asl) it took me an hour to take down one and by then i was rolling down the aisle. Not to mention there was a little help from Marylane. No need to go to eat, we ordered from the pizza joint across the road and they delivered, sweet. Embarrassingly we made it home before midnight, but in any case it was a rocking good night. Joining us were 3 argentines and a venezuelan who we met on our recent 2day trip to the islands in the lake Titicaca, where we saw floating islands! they were made of reeds but not built on the the bed of the lake so they were anchored, and and in fact there are many small communities who live like this on their floating islands, although the one we were on was specially made for us... But we also visited real islands where we were going to spend the night with a host family seeing no hostels exist on the island, nor electricity despite the wires hanging around the place. Poxy i thought at first and artificial - but in the end that was just me projecting. The folks there are shy, protect their community by giving everyone an equal go at hosting, and therefore earning a buck, they`re happy to have you around even if perhaps a bit confused about what the fuck we were about. So that was Titicaca.
And where have i just come from? Was taking a walk to the main square and saw from a distance crowds and lots of white hankerchiefs being waved in the air. There were tryhard firecracker going off, the kind that are load but at best emit a quick flash of light, sounding like the ones that were being thrown at our feet at new year´s at Cuzco.. anyway. I get closer and i see it`s a military march. Boys are dressed in their best suit and tie, preferably dark otherwise whatever you got your hands on. Girls in suits with knee length skirt and heels, similar looking but not identical by any stretch (shoes that is), and all with the same short hair - short at the back but a little longer on top. So what kind of marching makes for shimmering sweaty faces? a march where you`re jumping around and kicking the tip of your shoe to nose height. They were roughly in line and there was some one at the front of each bunch whistling with his mouth to order his group around. I saw a soldier run off to a street vendor and get himself a drink. They also had the white hankerchiefs in each hand waving them about in sinc. But, as all military parades get, it started to get boring and as i was thinking of going, the crazy parade stopped and so did the drums. It was time for anyone who didn´t get to centre square in time to huddle alone quickly. Then i saw them again, a selected few in the centre going around in ways i can`t explain, in sinc kind of but not quite together. And the singing! One thousand voices singing, something nationalistic no doupt, but somehow in delirium while they jumped from one foot to the next.
Well, now i`m going to find my mate Max from last night who`s from here and has a plan to travel to Brazil by bicycle!
Tomorrow i take the bus to Lima, 18 odd hours i can`t wait! At least i get to see my mate Luciana.
And where have i just come from? Was taking a walk to the main square and saw from a distance crowds and lots of white hankerchiefs being waved in the air. There were tryhard firecracker going off, the kind that are load but at best emit a quick flash of light, sounding like the ones that were being thrown at our feet at new year´s at Cuzco.. anyway. I get closer and i see it`s a military march. Boys are dressed in their best suit and tie, preferably dark otherwise whatever you got your hands on. Girls in suits with knee length skirt and heels, similar looking but not identical by any stretch (shoes that is), and all with the same short hair - short at the back but a little longer on top. So what kind of marching makes for shimmering sweaty faces? a march where you`re jumping around and kicking the tip of your shoe to nose height. They were roughly in line and there was some one at the front of each bunch whistling with his mouth to order his group around. I saw a soldier run off to a street vendor and get himself a drink. They also had the white hankerchiefs in each hand waving them about in sinc. But, as all military parades get, it started to get boring and as i was thinking of going, the crazy parade stopped and so did the drums. It was time for anyone who didn´t get to centre square in time to huddle alone quickly. Then i saw them again, a selected few in the centre going around in ways i can`t explain, in sinc kind of but not quite together. And the singing! One thousand voices singing, something nationalistic no doupt, but somehow in delirium while they jumped from one foot to the next.
Well, now i`m going to find my mate Max from last night who`s from here and has a plan to travel to Brazil by bicycle!
Tomorrow i take the bus to Lima, 18 odd hours i can`t wait! At least i get to see my mate Luciana.
jueves, diciembre 28, 2006
Machu Picchu
Cuzco must be the most expensive place i´ve visited, or at least up there with 1st world prices. Street touts abound and there´s no way virtually of conversing with someone without it being a business transactions. Understandably we´ve got tourist money entering the developing world and who would blame any of the locals in wanting to make a buck, but it doesn´t suit me if all i do is book overpriced bus rides to ruins after ruins without having a good ol chat with whoever has the time and inclination to want to share some words with me, dunno...
But i made it the Cuzco, the ancient centre of the Inca Empire, and to Machu Picchu, another one of its wonders. Learned a bit about what they were about but since the Spaniards began destroying everything they lay eyes on, little knowledge of what they were all about remains, most of it being speculation.
By the way, being in the southern hemisphere Peru is in summer except this region which is in one of its 2 seasons, the rainy season, so it´s raining loads. In the mountains and visiting Machu Picchu, i spend most of the time in the clouds and wait patiently for them to lift and then magically i´m in the junggle... And how hard did i laugh when i found out the it´s snowing in melbourne for Christmas!!!
Don´t really know where next, although Colombia is calling my heart.
But i made it the Cuzco, the ancient centre of the Inca Empire, and to Machu Picchu, another one of its wonders. Learned a bit about what they were about but since the Spaniards began destroying everything they lay eyes on, little knowledge of what they were all about remains, most of it being speculation.
By the way, being in the southern hemisphere Peru is in summer except this region which is in one of its 2 seasons, the rainy season, so it´s raining loads. In the mountains and visiting Machu Picchu, i spend most of the time in the clouds and wait patiently for them to lift and then magically i´m in the junggle... And how hard did i laugh when i found out the it´s snowing in melbourne for Christmas!!!
Don´t really know where next, although Colombia is calling my heart.
viernes, diciembre 22, 2006
The road never ends, but my savings will
So I get to the valley and sweet little ol town of Cafayate and its dozens of vineyards to visit and wine taste. Standing on the edge of this massive dry valley with pockets of green and with a backdrop of the Andes, needless to say spectacular. Got up in the morning, bought some wine, slab of meat, salt and some tomatoes we took a short drive to where some told up we could climb and reach a river to take a swim. I don´t like bragging about going where no tourists goes, cos what the hell am i anyway, but we were the only ones, with Julian the local tourist who carried his barbeque grill and meat up a mountain in true argentinian style, made a fire and we ate the most tender beef you can find on the planet. Meanwhile some local kid were swimming in the canal and barely watching us go by.
A young mountain man comes by (what did he do really but live and wonder the mountain i don´t quite know) but kindly told us to take our rubbish with us - US! the only ones with containers to collect our ciggarret buts in, let alone other rubbish, and let me remind you that the keep australia clean campain never made a south american version. Anyway, he sat and shared with us and we quickly became friends. Next things you know he´s taking us to up the river where we find a mini waterfall with freaky cold water but with no other option other than to go right in it... little things make you happy to be alive. But alas, the day ended, we saw him off and ended up at a Bodega (winery) to dry the spectacular whites, a specialty of the region.
And then there´s the drive to Salta. We went through these mountain ranges that look nothing like mountain ranges, Las Quebrada de las Conchas (or de Cafayate). How they were formed over millions of years i won´t get into, but suffice to say i saw shapes that that don´t make sense, colours of pink, purple, yellows, blues and greens all on these rocks that look like a napolitana ice-cream scoop. Getting to towns and cities now is a let down, like arriving in stinking hot Salta and getting stuck there cos we couldn´t get our connecting but across the boarder to Chile, although it was quaint.
Seeing we now had 3 days to kill we decided to go to a smoky little village a couple of hours north, although with our bus going at 20km/hr at times, it took us 3. There again was spendour. Cool and unassuming Tilcara happened to be quoted in the guide books and was still coping with its newly found fame, yet not spoilt yet. Sometimes when your on the road a lot and sharing one too many bathrooms it´s such a treat to find a nice peaceful place, so missing our bus and getting stuck in Tilcara was a godsent. It was truely sad to leave that place but we had a date to meet.
Drove through the Andes again, passing layers of mountains and several salt lakes, we arrive to dusty San Pedro de Atacama, Chile once again. It took a whole day but we were forced to get on the bus again within hours to get to Arica, bordering Peru, because there wouldn´t be another bus with seats for days, so we made the gruelling overnight bus ride. Arica didn´t say much to me and it was only recovery time there although we did get heavily wasted on our last night there. A bit of a mistake cos we had to get to the bus station in the morning to get our dodgy tickets to Cuzco. 9 uneccessary hours of waiting in our first Peruvian terminal and then the overnight ride from hell, many swartzerneger films, and 30 hours later we are here in very cold Cuzco, and guess who´s not well dressed for the cold.
It´s christmas eve an i´ll be happy to finish my coca tea, get some warm tucker in me, have a shower and and go to bed.
Merry Christmas!
A young mountain man comes by (what did he do really but live and wonder the mountain i don´t quite know) but kindly told us to take our rubbish with us - US! the only ones with containers to collect our ciggarret buts in, let alone other rubbish, and let me remind you that the keep australia clean campain never made a south american version. Anyway, he sat and shared with us and we quickly became friends. Next things you know he´s taking us to up the river where we find a mini waterfall with freaky cold water but with no other option other than to go right in it... little things make you happy to be alive. But alas, the day ended, we saw him off and ended up at a Bodega (winery) to dry the spectacular whites, a specialty of the region.
And then there´s the drive to Salta. We went through these mountain ranges that look nothing like mountain ranges, Las Quebrada de las Conchas (or de Cafayate). How they were formed over millions of years i won´t get into, but suffice to say i saw shapes that that don´t make sense, colours of pink, purple, yellows, blues and greens all on these rocks that look like a napolitana ice-cream scoop. Getting to towns and cities now is a let down, like arriving in stinking hot Salta and getting stuck there cos we couldn´t get our connecting but across the boarder to Chile, although it was quaint.
Seeing we now had 3 days to kill we decided to go to a smoky little village a couple of hours north, although with our bus going at 20km/hr at times, it took us 3. There again was spendour. Cool and unassuming Tilcara happened to be quoted in the guide books and was still coping with its newly found fame, yet not spoilt yet. Sometimes when your on the road a lot and sharing one too many bathrooms it´s such a treat to find a nice peaceful place, so missing our bus and getting stuck in Tilcara was a godsent. It was truely sad to leave that place but we had a date to meet.
Drove through the Andes again, passing layers of mountains and several salt lakes, we arrive to dusty San Pedro de Atacama, Chile once again. It took a whole day but we were forced to get on the bus again within hours to get to Arica, bordering Peru, because there wouldn´t be another bus with seats for days, so we made the gruelling overnight bus ride. Arica didn´t say much to me and it was only recovery time there although we did get heavily wasted on our last night there. A bit of a mistake cos we had to get to the bus station in the morning to get our dodgy tickets to Cuzco. 9 uneccessary hours of waiting in our first Peruvian terminal and then the overnight ride from hell, many swartzerneger films, and 30 hours later we are here in very cold Cuzco, and guess who´s not well dressed for the cold.
It´s christmas eve an i´ll be happy to finish my coca tea, get some warm tucker in me, have a shower and and go to bed.
Merry Christmas!
sábado, diciembre 16, 2006
Long busrides and sore bums
Made it to Iguazu, and indeed it is the most spectacular waterfall in the world. Stayed at the rock-star hotel, cold beer on the side of the pool and all. But had to move on. Even poped over to Brazil for the day and overdosed on juice, can´t get enough of their mixes.
Theresa and i headed northwest to some of the most varied and spectacular landscape imaginable. Ditched the big city of Tucuman and went straight to little valley called Tafí del Valle, 28 hours later on a bus, hense the sore bottom. (On the bus we played bingo and after the 1st 3 winners couldn´t claim their prize because they couldn´t come out with an obligatory joke, i was 3rd runner up and even though i couldn´t come up with one either, i gave them a run down of my life - another joke and won the prize - a bottle of wine with the bus company´s name on it..)
In Tafí is where my holidays really started. Small town, no noise, no fumes, no rude people, just blue skies fondled by big cottonwool clouds which kept creeping over the mountains that surrounded the valley. We even ditched the 2 hostels available there and opted for the one of the locals, Julián, who had a quaint little place in his backyard, accommodation that would fit max of 3. oh boy did i relax, but i was still suffering from sitting-in-bus-too-long syndrome so we walked up a little hill and waited 20 minutes from when we saw the clouds come over the mountains till the came and washed over us literally - so we were in the clouds!! (no photos, camera´s broken) We loved it, but seeing we were on a tight schedule to get to Cusco by the 24th, and go through the province and then Chile, we had only 3 days there. The time we have won´t do the zone one ounce of justice so we restricted ourselves and selected 2 more places to see.
So when we were about to leave Tafí Julián convinced us to stay another night and accompany us for 3 days up to Salta, it seems he had nothing better to do. He began by taking us around the town and to his friends´ houses up the mountain where they had etched a simple existence, producing their own food often, making arts and crafts (artesanias) and basically living where they could wake up everyday and kiss the sky, wet their feet in the river and contemplate the sound of the wind. Well, i´m no hippy fan, but these were the real Macoy and i liked them. Doors were open everywhere we went and you know country folks, they´re so fucking friendly and generous it just spins you out sometimes. So we crashed that night at his mate´s place seeing the cottage we had was taken after roast chicken and vegies and some of the locally produced wine.
Then the road trip starts. We left lucious water-abundant cool Tafí and over the mountain 50 kms or so later we´re in desert country, arid and more cacti than you can poke a prick with. Keep in mind we´re in the outback, folks are Country and life is quite cruel, but people don´t look at us funny even though we got superduper hiking boots on, a backpack and sitting in the town square, under a tree at least, when everyone else is having a siesta inside. This is Amaichá del Valle, a hidden village, to wonder down and bump into one of the most incredible museums or indigenous exhibitions i have ever encountered - yes, in the middle of nowhere i tells ya! The most impressive part was it´s construction with coloured rocks forming patterns on the grounds, walls, and the sculptures over a huge area.. can´t do it justice, you´ll have to see photos.
Julián picks up his stash and we head to Quilmes, the abandoned site of the tribes-peoples, called Quilmes, who maintained their fort in this monstorous valley amoungst other nations. They resisted and managed to fight off the Inkas and also the Spanish invadors for about 150 years, until they were overpowered and then they were taken to Buenos Aires on foot (a 30hour+ bus ride so imagine walking it in chains). The irony is that although they were annihilated eventually, the place where they they were brought is now their name´s sake, and it is also the site of the biggest brewery in Argentina (i think), making it the most drunk beer: Quilmes. Funny how once your dead you´re ants-pants, people will pay to see where you lived, although before they would´ve promoted a policy of destroying you and your evil ways; and once your people have been masacared they´ll take your name, cos it seems trendy enough and name a beer after you (i suppose some would take that as a compliment huh?), so cheers!
Stay tuned for next installment, Cafayate to come...
Theresa and i headed northwest to some of the most varied and spectacular landscape imaginable. Ditched the big city of Tucuman and went straight to little valley called Tafí del Valle, 28 hours later on a bus, hense the sore bottom. (On the bus we played bingo and after the 1st 3 winners couldn´t claim their prize because they couldn´t come out with an obligatory joke, i was 3rd runner up and even though i couldn´t come up with one either, i gave them a run down of my life - another joke and won the prize - a bottle of wine with the bus company´s name on it..)
In Tafí is where my holidays really started. Small town, no noise, no fumes, no rude people, just blue skies fondled by big cottonwool clouds which kept creeping over the mountains that surrounded the valley. We even ditched the 2 hostels available there and opted for the one of the locals, Julián, who had a quaint little place in his backyard, accommodation that would fit max of 3. oh boy did i relax, but i was still suffering from sitting-in-bus-too-long syndrome so we walked up a little hill and waited 20 minutes from when we saw the clouds come over the mountains till the came and washed over us literally - so we were in the clouds!! (no photos, camera´s broken) We loved it, but seeing we were on a tight schedule to get to Cusco by the 24th, and go through the province and then Chile, we had only 3 days there. The time we have won´t do the zone one ounce of justice so we restricted ourselves and selected 2 more places to see.
So when we were about to leave Tafí Julián convinced us to stay another night and accompany us for 3 days up to Salta, it seems he had nothing better to do. He began by taking us around the town and to his friends´ houses up the mountain where they had etched a simple existence, producing their own food often, making arts and crafts (artesanias) and basically living where they could wake up everyday and kiss the sky, wet their feet in the river and contemplate the sound of the wind. Well, i´m no hippy fan, but these were the real Macoy and i liked them. Doors were open everywhere we went and you know country folks, they´re so fucking friendly and generous it just spins you out sometimes. So we crashed that night at his mate´s place seeing the cottage we had was taken after roast chicken and vegies and some of the locally produced wine.
Then the road trip starts. We left lucious water-abundant cool Tafí and over the mountain 50 kms or so later we´re in desert country, arid and more cacti than you can poke a prick with. Keep in mind we´re in the outback, folks are Country and life is quite cruel, but people don´t look at us funny even though we got superduper hiking boots on, a backpack and sitting in the town square, under a tree at least, when everyone else is having a siesta inside. This is Amaichá del Valle, a hidden village, to wonder down and bump into one of the most incredible museums or indigenous exhibitions i have ever encountered - yes, in the middle of nowhere i tells ya! The most impressive part was it´s construction with coloured rocks forming patterns on the grounds, walls, and the sculptures over a huge area.. can´t do it justice, you´ll have to see photos.
Julián picks up his stash and we head to Quilmes, the abandoned site of the tribes-peoples, called Quilmes, who maintained their fort in this monstorous valley amoungst other nations. They resisted and managed to fight off the Inkas and also the Spanish invadors for about 150 years, until they were overpowered and then they were taken to Buenos Aires on foot (a 30hour+ bus ride so imagine walking it in chains). The irony is that although they were annihilated eventually, the place where they they were brought is now their name´s sake, and it is also the site of the biggest brewery in Argentina (i think), making it the most drunk beer: Quilmes. Funny how once your dead you´re ants-pants, people will pay to see where you lived, although before they would´ve promoted a policy of destroying you and your evil ways; and once your people have been masacared they´ll take your name, cos it seems trendy enough and name a beer after you (i suppose some would take that as a compliment huh?), so cheers!
Stay tuned for next installment, Cafayate to come...
martes, diciembre 05, 2006
I´m outta here
Did i mention i quit my job last week and in a frantic rush to pack all my things away and head for the road?
It´s home time, and i never thought i´d feel the urge but after 7 years of being on the road, on and off (cos even in melbourne i was transient, owned a bed and that was all)i´m looking forward to being in my slow, peaceful and boring hometown. It´s gotta be done. It seems that in the last year all the things that excited me about this life of mine have taken a back seat, aren´t tantalising me, aren´t filling me with purpose and new insights. And all those other things, that were always there but they just weren´t important to me, have come to the foreground, like dirty lonely roads, incomprehensible behaviour, unatainable goals, terrible beds, and the endless stream of housemates..
i´m coming home to roost, is all.
But before that, with a mate, I´m going to one of the most fabulous waterfalls in the world, Iguazu, then hop around the north of Argentina, cross into the desert of Chile - yes again, but very briefly - to then enter Peru, skip into a couple of places in Bolivia, hense my frantic race to get vaccinated today, visit a mate, then back into Peru, to Lima, visit a friend and then perhaps hooking up with another couple of mates from here and make it to Colombia, where i can find lots of mates i hope, and then if i find i´m really blessed, Rio de Janeiro. Then again, i may get pooped after the first leg and just come home.
I´m off in 3 days, here it goes!
It´s home time, and i never thought i´d feel the urge but after 7 years of being on the road, on and off (cos even in melbourne i was transient, owned a bed and that was all)i´m looking forward to being in my slow, peaceful and boring hometown. It´s gotta be done. It seems that in the last year all the things that excited me about this life of mine have taken a back seat, aren´t tantalising me, aren´t filling me with purpose and new insights. And all those other things, that were always there but they just weren´t important to me, have come to the foreground, like dirty lonely roads, incomprehensible behaviour, unatainable goals, terrible beds, and the endless stream of housemates..
i´m coming home to roost, is all.
But before that, with a mate, I´m going to one of the most fabulous waterfalls in the world, Iguazu, then hop around the north of Argentina, cross into the desert of Chile - yes again, but very briefly - to then enter Peru, skip into a couple of places in Bolivia, hense my frantic race to get vaccinated today, visit a mate, then back into Peru, to Lima, visit a friend and then perhaps hooking up with another couple of mates from here and make it to Colombia, where i can find lots of mates i hope, and then if i find i´m really blessed, Rio de Janeiro. Then again, i may get pooped after the first leg and just come home.
I´m off in 3 days, here it goes!
lunes, noviembre 13, 2006
I´m not a racista but...
In those odd conversations i have with shopkeeppers, cabies, acquaintances, whoever, i always get asked, naturally, "so what do think of Buenos Aires, do you like it?!". Well, i kinda do, i have had the usual ups and downs, and i´ve tended to say, yes it´s really nice here.. till one day i heard this one line one time too many - "Well at least there´s not much discrimination here.."!
JUA JUA, or ha!
My chauffeur, the last straw, seemed to follow this line, only to proceed into the conversation by telling me that yes, imigrants are welcomed, so long as they behave, because so often they just cause problems. How does the race discource do a twirle and before you know it, the non-racist is justifying his lucky country on the arguement that if there is a problem, if infact someone experiences discrimination, it´s their own fault and they should just adapt, conform, otherwise they´re just trouble makers and should go back where they came from... sound familiar?
I saw a short documentary recently posing the question, is argentina racist? One young white argentian man and one young swarthy/black argentinian man were given a set of identical tasks to complete. 1. stand on the same street and try to get a cab, cabs drive straight pass swarthy boy and offering white boy a lift everytime, swarthy boy couldn´t get anywhere at all. 2. ask for some spare change on the street, swarthy boy couldn´t get even recognition, let alone 5 cents, where white boy get´s asked, now is that enough for your bus ticket dear? Two and a half pesos. 3. They go for the same job, waiter, swarthy boy turns up for his interview gets told no one´s there to see him but they´ll keep his cv on file. It goes on..
There´s no end to this folks, for one reason or another, one reason worse than the other, fear and intolerance of difference breeds passion and identity in people in every single place i´ve been to.
I think i´ve got a long way to go before i can say i´m not a racist.
JUA JUA, or ha!
My chauffeur, the last straw, seemed to follow this line, only to proceed into the conversation by telling me that yes, imigrants are welcomed, so long as they behave, because so often they just cause problems. How does the race discource do a twirle and before you know it, the non-racist is justifying his lucky country on the arguement that if there is a problem, if infact someone experiences discrimination, it´s their own fault and they should just adapt, conform, otherwise they´re just trouble makers and should go back where they came from... sound familiar?
I saw a short documentary recently posing the question, is argentina racist? One young white argentian man and one young swarthy/black argentinian man were given a set of identical tasks to complete. 1. stand on the same street and try to get a cab, cabs drive straight pass swarthy boy and offering white boy a lift everytime, swarthy boy couldn´t get anywhere at all. 2. ask for some spare change on the street, swarthy boy couldn´t get even recognition, let alone 5 cents, where white boy get´s asked, now is that enough for your bus ticket dear? Two and a half pesos. 3. They go for the same job, waiter, swarthy boy turns up for his interview gets told no one´s there to see him but they´ll keep his cv on file. It goes on..
There´s no end to this folks, for one reason or another, one reason worse than the other, fear and intolerance of difference breeds passion and identity in people in every single place i´ve been to.
I think i´ve got a long way to go before i can say i´m not a racist.
miércoles, septiembre 13, 2006
Loads to tell of but the best thing i can do at the moment is treat myself to a little quiet-time. The routine of life has truely set in, finally, and in this here lies the torment of questions unaswered, of events not quite understood, of people and their intricacies, ways and weaknesses. This isn´t a day in the life of a whirl-wind traveler, this is anyday, anywhere, anyone.
Yes, a little contemplative lately. Feeling a bit weird cos i tuned into Triple R FM(melbourne radio) this week and i´m hearing about all the gigs on this weekend and it sounds like they´re just around the corner.. hearing about the weather - and if you think melbourne has temperamental weather, try going from 26 degrees to 12! or listening to talk-back programs, talking about how australia is going down the toilet.. can´t i be lost on a warm beach, under the shade, under the water where nor I nor anything matters... oooof.
That´s enough, i knew i shouldn´t be writing, hence the delay in much needed email replies.
luv
Kitean, as i´m called in vietnamese.
Yes, a little contemplative lately. Feeling a bit weird cos i tuned into Triple R FM(melbourne radio) this week and i´m hearing about all the gigs on this weekend and it sounds like they´re just around the corner.. hearing about the weather - and if you think melbourne has temperamental weather, try going from 26 degrees to 12! or listening to talk-back programs, talking about how australia is going down the toilet.. can´t i be lost on a warm beach, under the shade, under the water where nor I nor anything matters... oooof.
That´s enough, i knew i shouldn´t be writing, hence the delay in much needed email replies.
luv
Kitean, as i´m called in vietnamese.
miércoles, agosto 02, 2006
I´m settling in, i think
That´ll teach me to send massive group mail. I´ve been inundated and it´s going to take me ages to get back to youz. Besides, it´s test time here and i´m snowed under with bleeding corrections, aargh. Not to mention buenas aires just got a cold spell, finally i´ll feel like it´s winter.
So i found a place to stay, 4 months on. the fellas putting me up so far decided i was such a great houseguest they decided to let me stay for good. Manu doesn´t mind sleeping in the lounge room and i´m getting used to the moulding walls in his room. wait til they find out what kind of a nazi i am in the kitchen and tidying up and all.. oh Clinton, we were so neat and gay together.
Anyway, i´m stoked cos i do lovem to pieces. Manu is flabbergasted at the amount of people seeing psychs, even though he´s dating one, and repeatedly urges me not to go see any - well with him as a mate, i won´t need to. Yes, we do talk about how it is a symptom of an alienated consumer-bent society, stripped of communal and familial support leaving no other outlet to the middle-classes but to seek insatiable solace in the therapist.. cos the folks in the rubbish-scavanging industry don´t really sit there tired of hating what´s become of their life nor hate themselves... they´re too busy looking for scraps and recyclable goods to take back to their own.
geeez, i feel overworked, underpaid and out of time, feels like russia all over again. But (brokenheart aside - or perhaps not) who the hell am i to complain.
So i found a place to stay, 4 months on. the fellas putting me up so far decided i was such a great houseguest they decided to let me stay for good. Manu doesn´t mind sleeping in the lounge room and i´m getting used to the moulding walls in his room. wait til they find out what kind of a nazi i am in the kitchen and tidying up and all.. oh Clinton, we were so neat and gay together.
Anyway, i´m stoked cos i do lovem to pieces. Manu is flabbergasted at the amount of people seeing psychs, even though he´s dating one, and repeatedly urges me not to go see any - well with him as a mate, i won´t need to. Yes, we do talk about how it is a symptom of an alienated consumer-bent society, stripped of communal and familial support leaving no other outlet to the middle-classes but to seek insatiable solace in the therapist.. cos the folks in the rubbish-scavanging industry don´t really sit there tired of hating what´s become of their life nor hate themselves... they´re too busy looking for scraps and recyclable goods to take back to their own.
geeez, i feel overworked, underpaid and out of time, feels like russia all over again. But (brokenheart aside - or perhaps not) who the hell am i to complain.
sábado, julio 22, 2006
TO NOT LOVE?
I`m told, in the Mapuche language, the indigenous peoples of Chile, do not have the negation of the word LOVE. In other words, you can not actually tell someone that you don`t love them...!
Something to ponder.
love
chris
Something to ponder.
love
chris
viernes, julio 21, 2006
miércoles, junio 21, 2006
A poem out of focus
About a week ago, a cold homebound saturday night, my housemate Alejandro and i decided to scavange a few pesos together and invest in some whisky. Did i mention how great it is to live in a house of critical thinkers and philosophers? truth and reality, their definitions and distinctiveness is an ongoing debate between Ale and i. To boot, both he and Manuel, who i also live with, are both doing theses on critical pedagogy... right up my ally.
Anyways, back to whisky which seemed to be the impetus needed to unleash our synchronised creative genius in the form of one poem this one particular night. Here tis, make what you will out of it.
Poema difuso – A Poem out of focus
A veces quisiera sudar lágrimas en otras almohadas
Pillows, schpillows, there’s no resting now
Descansar a veces es lo mismo que actuar
Pues actuar es una forma de olvidar
Forget me forget me. And then being the same.
Porque no puedo dejar de ser yo todos mis actos.
No hay escapatoria. Ir es lo mismo que volver.
Leaving one door but entering another, Always,
Otherwise, where’s the evolution?
Craving for cynicism again
Diablos, ¿no puedo ir más allá de mi mismo?
¿Por más que busque, no voy a encontrar nada sino mis anhelos?
Like I know those, ha-ha-ha,
¿Cómo abandonarme sin dejarme? Si en la práctica eso no ocurre,
¿Por qué mierda me lo pregunto?
I’m my own testimony, if anyone. And still aching to mold me,
Transform me,
Mutate me,
Manipulate me
Distil me
Refine me
Pollute me
Sick me
And still nothing me,
¿Debo buscar cambiar o permanecer? ¿Qué es lo inevitable?
Changing what will always leave remnants of me
Permanence is deadly, but I …
Bueno, yo no la maté.
Alejandro Herrera, Christine Athanasakos
Anyways, back to whisky which seemed to be the impetus needed to unleash our synchronised creative genius in the form of one poem this one particular night. Here tis, make what you will out of it.
Poema difuso – A Poem out of focus
A veces quisiera sudar lágrimas en otras almohadas
Pillows, schpillows, there’s no resting now
Descansar a veces es lo mismo que actuar
Pues actuar es una forma de olvidar
Forget me forget me. And then being the same.
Porque no puedo dejar de ser yo todos mis actos.
No hay escapatoria. Ir es lo mismo que volver.
Leaving one door but entering another, Always,
Otherwise, where’s the evolution?
Craving for cynicism again
Diablos, ¿no puedo ir más allá de mi mismo?
¿Por más que busque, no voy a encontrar nada sino mis anhelos?
Like I know those, ha-ha-ha,
¿Cómo abandonarme sin dejarme? Si en la práctica eso no ocurre,
¿Por qué mierda me lo pregunto?
I’m my own testimony, if anyone. And still aching to mold me,
Transform me,
Mutate me,
Manipulate me
Distil me
Refine me
Pollute me
Sick me
And still nothing me,
¿Debo buscar cambiar o permanecer? ¿Qué es lo inevitable?
Changing what will always leave remnants of me
Permanence is deadly, but I …
Bueno, yo no la maté.
Alejandro Herrera, Christine Athanasakos
viernes, junio 16, 2006
Football Nuff turns into Nut
10 am and the streets of Buenos Aires are virtually empty, except for the crowds hovering around every TV screen looking out onto the street.
Argentina is playing and every office is empty. EVERYONE at work is in front of a TV screen. An oil company i go to do classes has installed a large screen tv in the basement and for the next 2 hours, nothing else exists.
I´m there too. All i want to do is watch football... oooo, i just heard the screams of the 3rd goal.
Australia Vs Brazil this friday and I`ll be going to a sports bar to drink beer, naturally and barrack for ... the team i mean to or for the team whose T-shirt i can sport..?
yours
The Nuff-Nut
Argentina is playing and every office is empty. EVERYONE at work is in front of a TV screen. An oil company i go to do classes has installed a large screen tv in the basement and for the next 2 hours, nothing else exists.
I´m there too. All i want to do is watch football... oooo, i just heard the screams of the 3rd goal.
Australia Vs Brazil this friday and I`ll be going to a sports bar to drink beer, naturally and barrack for ... the team i mean to or for the team whose T-shirt i can sport..?
yours
The Nuff-Nut
Suscribirse a:
Entradas (Atom)
