Marry Sweden

Marry Sweden

The child on the train wants my attention, while I strive for that of the woods and lakes that fly past my side. Again the foreigner. No longer for my skin but for my unknowing look, my lack of confidence, my funny hair and again I realise how important verbal communication is, I’m desperate to try and learn all over. Nostalgia for foreign lands fills me again, for new smells and sights and tastes.

I arrive, bathed in sun, to where the bride and groom are waiting for me, as giddy as when I first saw them together. There’s a buzz of joy and mania in their speech and actions, it excites me.

Then I see the castle… I feel as light as if gravity has evacuated me and the strings have been cut.

The next few days are of incredible family, disjointed in every way and yet closer than if they were joined, as if they tessellated better this way.

Feasting and time, so much rich time spent in the sun and woods and lakes, walking in carpet soft grass.

the big day comes, people fritter in and two days of polka dot dresses, skinny suits, singing, dancing, tributes, speeches, so much food. Children bubble around and there are so many more familiar people than I expected.

The bride and groom farewell away, dancing out the room and onto their own private party and the other foreigner and i are swept up by the girl in a polka dot dress, matching hairclips, bag, shoes, etc. to go and stay at her and her husband’s house. I can say no more except she was an ace girl and that I realised that things aren’t always as they appear to be.

final thoughts

i'm back for nearly a week now, its nice and i was really ready to come back but in a strange way i feel nearly ready to go again.

its strange waking up in the same place everyday and having to decide what same thing to do and having to use bus passes and mobile phones.

i got used to trusting friends of 10mins strong with all my possessions, safety, thoughts, etc. which has been replaced with not feeling able to express myself to my best friends and people so suprised that i think some different things to before, kinda feels like i've been in a time machine.

its certainly not all bad, i'm really loved here and everythings really easy, i dont have to watch my back, i drop my purse and someone chases me to hand it back to me, i'm a few pence short at the shop and they tell me to bring it next time. the man at the italian delicatesant likes my tan and tales and gives me free sundried tomatoes. my friend automatically starts phoning me again to catch me up on any gossip and i'm no more oblivious than i was before i left.

i love my life but its still evolving, watch this space.

homecoming

one last night in lima with my purple haired friend, a thrashing at tenpinbowling and a good coffee and the journey home begun.

noone knew i was coming home except my bro (who apparently didnt know the right day as i found out at the airport)

1st night curry.. amazing, poisoned myself with poppadoms... less amazing.

saw and suprised a few people in london village and then shot off to bristol for footy, funk and a few more suprises.

SUNDAY- the big mans birthday!
mum and dad suspecting they were suprising me in 2weeks at the airport (an off scent throwing plan fabricated planned by the bro and myself)
unfortunatly didnt find a very big box and after pete had gone into the house and distracted the parents i had to resume a muslim praying position and have the box shoved on over me, feet hangin out.

it was all good and sucessful, watery eyes, big hugs and lots of food and cider!!!

huacachina

the perfect end in a desert oasis, which is now pretty set-up for travellers with dune buggy rides (alton towers eat your heart out) sandboarding and mostly just swimming and lying around in the sun.

i hear you say 'i'm sure that made you never want to leave' but the truth is although there were some trully lovely people, lying around just made me want to do nothing with the ones i love an dthose that love me.

the bus ride

me and the princess, after a battle of wills decided we would take the bus instead of the train to cuzco, after all it would save us 12$ and 4hours(so we thought!)

the surroundings were beautiful and after a good breakfast and a 2hour delay we were in good spirits despite our stomachs playing up, bolivia-stylee.

4hours in and 3 to go there was a queue and talks of roadblocks and protests twittered up and down the bus, we shuffled foward and picked up pace, stopped for passengers on and off. food went up and down the bus, we ate, drank, giggled about the beautiful blue-eyed boy on a seat infront, watched a terrible, dubbed film and gazed at the mountains sprinting by.

an interlude occurs where a women appears in the isle by my side, lifting the blanketed parcel from her back and places it on the floor. she opens it to reveal a huge chunk of cow and an axe... she proceeded to carve the meat while i wiped the dead animal fragments off my face, she then handed it out to everyone on the bus wrapped in bits of plastic with a complimentry piece of bog roll for the mess.

this time the road was bare and queue was long. no one was moving an inch and everyone got off the bus and found their toilets amongst the bushes and shrubs or just squatting 2metres from the bus. shyly we went a bit further a field only to be caught. pants down, hearing our driver shouting "VAMOS" and the engine reviving its growl. we ran. i got one leg on the moving bus and fabi not far behind made it on to the bus to everyones amusement and dismay to stop 1minute later, our efforts wasted.

the darkness came, a woman sold blocks of bad cheese because there was not another morsel to eat. the cold set in and cigarettes were shared in groups of 4s and 5s.

back in the stationary bus we tried to sleep and managed an hour and were woken at 11pm (8hours after we were due to arrive in cusco) to be told that after a 15minute walk we would be passed the block and taxis and buses awaited us on the other side.

10 of us; peruvians, a brazillian, 2 argentine boys, the italian chica and myself donned or 20+ kg bags and vamosed. 1 hour later; past the blocks, no cars or busses to be seen and the cold turning painful, there are lights behind us, they turn out to be the road unblocking. however the buses would not stop for us, our own bus went past and in despair fabianna threw herself infront of the moving double decker crying "POR FAVOR" y "ESPERA!" (as shes known to do)

the last 3hours to cusco were a 1st class relief and for me a nervous one as the beautiful fabio blue eyes shared his blanket with me and slept like an angel by myside.

goodbye bolivia

after a return to la paz por un poco joviality, said goodbye to some jungle dwelling friends, promising to meet in another world with green hills for cheddar and cider. i took a swiss, italian princess and headed for lake titicaca, the highest lake in the world.

the princess is legendary and the rest of my time will e lacking when our paths divide.

isla del sol did as it says with tranquillity and nongringofied style, moving fast we bussed it to puno, peru, to see the floating islands, made of reeds and the houses on top of them too, and the boats, everything was made of these reeds, quite incredible.

a few ruins, a few nice new friends, good food and a few too many pisco sours later kate did a throwing herself off a balcony trick, no harm done, well possibly just to the pride.

pampas

after 1 nights "rest" in a hostel in our destination town without much rest we´re back on the boat to see the pampus.

from go it was a feast for the eyes; aligators, exotic birds, strange man sized hamsters called frank, caimans, monkeys of all kinds and dolphins in grey and pink! phenomenal!

nights around the campfire with a equally good group of travellers, guides and locals and of course mosquitoes to complete the mix.

so good to be back in the hot and amongst the trees travelling by boat, seeing the sunset and rise and basically not missing a moment of the glorious outside world.

jungle

more death road action, skimming the cliff edge on the bus to the port, through protestors, deep in the forest marching for their right to grow coca and into our long boat, home for the next 3 days.

wide open river, rainforest climbing both sides to set up camp on a patch of beach, sleeping under mosquito nets in the open air, eating and drinking round the fire and generally living out my dreams.

the jungles resources inspire me and i want to know more about these plants and the secrets they hold.

at night the stars fill more space than the darkness and offer their own wisdom. we pass through communities living a dreamy humid existance, others under shelters on the beaches searching for gold and communities that are clearly struggling too, without schools and much help from the world around.

the first night shines for me, 6 months on the road, full moon, fire feast, stars, jungle, sand and good company and the sound of the river lulling us to sleep in the wee hours

san pedro prison

a book written about a liverpudlian in san pedro prison, la paz, the corruption, the eternal system, the classes and bosses within the gates inspires many to view the inside, however it proved more difficult than at first it seemed.

when the brit featured in marching powder, the book, was there he took tourists on tours around the prison, for gifts it would seem. since he has left they are strictly anti tourist.

we took 3names from the british embassy and attempted to visit those people but were met by oposition at every point.

spending the time trying and waiting was an eye opener.. children ran in and out, women in traditional dress and bowler hats queued, filing in and out, younger women ran out crying to have a fag and waltzed back in.

men were lead into secure cars, mostly with handcuffs on but some were just held by there shirt collars!

it was frustrating not having a chance to see this famously corrupt prison, but solely observing this other way of life was something else.

death road conquered

64km, down 3600m in altitude, i tackled the most dangerous road in the world!

breathtaking views along with breathtaking close calls with cliff edges and lorries stacked full of people. we stayed on the cliff edge throughout with sheer drops of 90m beside us and came out buzzing bruised, vey bruised!

what can't you buy in la paz

the bus pulls into uroru where i've promised myself a room of my own and a quiet half day of absorbtion and investigation while the other travellers head straight on to la paz (the pseudo capital city). the taxi driver asks me if i'm travelling solita(all on my little own) then asks "no tiene miedo?" i say no of course but in truth its clear i do get scared, sometimes i'm filled with fear and not always unfounded but i reap the benefits of travelling alone and i feel those now.

i discovered fast that to be alone is preferrable by far to being witrh someone who makes you feel lonely.

well as promised i have a large room to myself in a lady's house, with 3 beautiful dogs and a toilet than you can flush toilet paper down, how novel!!!

i'm looking foward to parties, prisons, actual extreme bike riding and witches markets in la paz.

but tonight its me, my goodself y los perros... bliss.

my treat

the bus pulls into uroru where i've promised myself a room of my own and a quiet half day of absorbtion and investigation while the other travellers head straight on to la paz (the pseudo capital city). the taxi driver asks me if i'm travelling solita(all on my little own) then asks "no tiene miedo?" i say no of course but in truth its clear i do get scared, sometimes i'm filled with fear and not always unfounded but i reap the benefits of travelling alone and i feel those now.

i discovered fast that to be alone is preferrable by far to being witrh someone who makes you feel lonely.

well as promised i have a large room to myself in a lady's house, with 3 beautiful dogs and a toilet than you can flush toilet paper down, how novel!!!

i'm looking foward to parties, prisons, actual extreme bike riding and witches markets in la paz.

but tonight its me, my goodself y los perros... bliss.

the miners of potosi

highest city in the world, i could barely take in enough air for one lung.

not a startling city in my experience, huge markets, beautiful food but potosi was once a rich city, famous for its silver mines.

we crawled in, pasting ourselves to the slimy walls to let carts of minerals out. the miners/workers, ranging from 11 to 60 years old, work a minimum of 6hours, 6 days a week in the mine earninga fixed salary of next to nothing or a cut of what they mine.

sometimes they chip away at the arches of rock that support the tunnels they are working in if they're are not getting good results elsewhere to earn enough.

all day they dont eat, believing its bad luck within the mines. instead they chew coca, smoke and drink 96% alcohol, praying at all times to the devil for good luck and safety.

the greatest cause of death in the mines is falling drunk down shafts and there is no belief in safety precautions, for us included.

after 10years many are left with 20% lung capacity and when retired must move to lower lands as they cannot stay adjusted to the altitude.

we attempted to pull tons of minerals up the 15metre shafts, i nearly managed send myself down the shaft instead.

there's a mixture of pride, complacency and hoplessness within the mines but mostly a lack of knowledge of any alternative

...cont

then the last day, just to blow it all out of perspective we drove into the salt planes, where it seemed as if you were on a boat, or floating, the white brilliance stinging your eyes.

the salt was thick enough to land a small plane on, miles of it, and nothing else to be seen, the pale blue sky merging into it.

after so much nothing an island emerged on the horizon, la isla de pescadores (a name that makes no sense.) the island is full of rock caves and huge cactuses up to 12metres tall and 1200 years old and a family of rabbit like creatrures with squirrels tails and a kangaroos jump. tables of salt, chairs of cactus wood.

a world of wonders.

cont...

then the last day, just to blow it all out of perspective we drove into the salt planes, where it seemed as if you were on a boat, or floating, the white brilliance stinging your eyes.

the salt was thick enough to land a small plane on, miles of it, and nothing else to be seen, the pale blue sky merging into it.

after so much nothing an island emerged on the horizon, la isla de pescadores (a name that makes no sense.) the island is full of rock caves and huge cactuses up to 12metres tall and 1200 years old and a family of rabbit like creatrures with squirrels tails and a kangaroos jump. tables of salt, chairs of cactus wood.

a world of wonders.

beyond words

no photos i´ve taken or words i can write could impress upon you what i have seen and felt this past few days. i can list the sights, which i will, and use my limited vocabulary to express how it was to be in those places.

the salt planes and lagunas of the bolivian andes by jeep, beautiful white and green lagunas, covered in flourescent flamingoes,with red mountains surroundings. daliesque landscapes for hours, i´ve seen smoking volcanoes, geysers bubbling like the bog of eternal stench and smoking eggy smelling sulphur.

barren dessert, rocky valleys. the feeling of being under the sea, as it once was, all the rocks facing south and underwater type plants everywhere.

and now, sitting outside a hotel made of salt, watching the sun rise over the huge salt flat of uyuni, mixing and reflecting the beautiful colours.

not only by the sights but the richness of the place, as the guide, hugo, said "las piedras tiene information" so much change and evolution passing without human interference or intervention and now the precious minerals all over being harvested along with electricity generated by the geysers pressure. its a gold mine that unfortunatly will reap very little of the benefits of.

bolivia begins

the standard of bus to the bolivian border goed down significantly and my heart races a little faster as people board the regularly stopping bus to sell food. trigo (wheat) is advertised on billboards meaning its becoming rarer and the ability to eat, for me, less rare.

the houses have shrunk and look more volatile, the plants more tropical and the people are darker. clearly at the north of argentina we begin to glimpse the poverty in bolivi, this brings everything painted more colourfully and the small % of indigenous people in argentina can be found here.

the roads are still good and i know for me that i have got used to the comforts again, but i long for the other type of travel, to see the other side from what i know once again and i fel sad that i will revel in how cheap life will be.

...

well the roads are now rocks and dust, the air is hot and thin and similar to guatamala, the ladies especially,are wearing thick woolen, colourful layers of clothes and bowler hats.

wrinkled dark skin, ribbon plaited hair and the stares and comments from the men as you walk down the road.

sleeping is impossible and the headache constant and the altitude is not at its worst yet.

my breakfast a bag of hot potatoes and thick chilli salsa costs the equivelant of 16p with a fresh orange juice.

bikes&wine take 2

the next day we kicked tejoncita out of our ride and left her in the hands of her reluctantly new adopted parents, the hostel staff.

as you can imagine the day was full of good wine, lots of sun, beautiful gourmet food and wonderful views, a dream.

with beautiful wines still caressing our palettes the drive back into town treated us with the dark sillohetted andes under scarred pink skies, infront multicoloured poplar trees lining the road on both sides, monets fascination with them i now understand.

bikes&wine in maipu (pronounced my poo)

well great plans go us up early to take the bus to the next town and hire some bikes to tour the brodegas, when eventually we found the bus we said goodbye to our little furry friend, tejoncita2 who had followed us from the hostel, and hopped on the bus. tejoncita had other plans, she jumped onto the bus and onto my lap, when the driver tried to remove her it would seem the foot and a half long dog had the determination of something much greater.

we arrived in maipu, friend in tow, to find we couldnt take her the next bus and couldnt leave her.

the days plan collapsed and a little confused and disorientated we went for food and a tour of a cheap bottle of wine in a restaurant instead.

when we were fed adn watered (in the jesus and weddings sense) we were ready to hassle taxis and buses to take us and our "well trained" dog back to mendoza. however at this point we acquired a new friend, this one could say his name so we couldn´t call him tejon. our new 70yr old friend proceeded to talk to talk to us about factories in germany and turkey and quiz us on our star signs.

this took an hour mas o menos before we could make our excuses, with the sympathetic and slightly mocking looks of the restaurant staff backingup our descision. however although not a tejon, this one was just as determined as the last. we found ourselves running away 3times from as sad and lonely and quite dissalussioned old man, i´ve not an ounce of self-respect left.

contuinuing our habbit of lying and excuses we managed to get tejoncita on the next bus by feigning ignorance and lack of understanding.

mendoza

well i made it out and headed for wine country, the home of beautiful malbecs and cabernet savigñon.

mendoza a city so easy to be in, where the pavements are as wide as the roads and full of tables and chairs and trees in lines. half the city is a park and the rest seems to be beautiful plazas and these breezy beautiful streets.

the park has a beautiful lake where rowing is practised and the anded rise up behind it.

they say if you don´t see the sun on any day in mendoza the hostels will give you your money back it may be just a saying but i never had a chance to find out.

barriloche

it was an enjoyable enough town with an amazing hostel, the owners were a great example of the generosity of the argentine people, however it was just a good base for me to head out into the wilds. now in el bolson, a town a couple of hours down the road, i will have to be careful not to get stuck here. in our own little house/cabaña with everything you need. walks, market, woods and nothing much else in the daytime. feasting and cider into to the starbright nights. cockerals to wake you, dogs to greet you and the brilliant old hippy couple that own the farm type place with their 6 varying children and extroadinarily and naturally generous grow anything you may desire.

the "town" is a centre of people that make and is dotted with amaxing crafts and dogs own the streets, there even seems to be an irish setter that has been spreading his seed around.

the whole town is surrounded by mountains and a beautiful river runs accross, yesterday had waterfuls in the woods, will i ever leave here i wonder.

laguna negra

the enchanted black lake surrounded by grey shadowy figures looming high and dissapearing into the clouds. at times the clouds dance upon the lagunas skin , creating ripples and shooting upwards then dissapearing.

that valley that brought us here was an autumn dream, evergreens woven into burnt orange, golden ocre and we began to climb the awe inpiring rocks to look down it was an impressionist sea of orange in the shape of valleys surrounding the river streams and to glance upwards, beautiful thin waterfuls falling for miles and one crashing dowm through the rocks.

the water so clear and pre tasted incredible while freezing the back of your throat. it was cloudy mostly but occasionally the sun graced us and illuminated all the land.

the black lake is crystal clear up close and is so inviting, were my breath not as visible as the clouds i would have dived in. all surrounding was like a giant playground. clambering through thoe snow over sparkling rocks watching the valleys light up and the lake turn to oil.

thats what patagonia seems to screm opf at every juncture...unexplored, you could step out for months and not see a single person. over a 3rd of the popultion live in the capital city and the whole country is 3/10ths of the US. the figures dont show it i know but it is phenominal.

extreme biking

having found the most perfect hostel to base ourselves we met ace people and hi the town with mexican food filling our tummies and wine our heads. through various stages my night ended in WOREST an old ladies casino at 5am with a nottingham lass drinking the racid argentinian licor fernett.

a day of recupperation and i was determined to do some "extreme biking" so representing spain, germany and england us 3 ladies took off around the 60km circumference of the lake, the roads were hilly, the views were lovely and we managed to hit siesta so no food or coffee. we adopted a beautiful dog, respect to tejoncita (little badger) who ran with us for 40km with a badf leg!

we took to the off roads and diverted round a beautiful lake surrounded by red mountains and not a person or car in sight. it was totally exhillerating and really beautiful. feeling refreshed and a bit more healthy i´m now enjoying the novelty of todays suprise rains and heading for the mountains tommorrow.

titanic train

a new method of transport thrown into my world of bus trips and the ever attrctive word 'cheaper' meant the next leg could be done by train claimed to be only used by locals and to have a bar and cinema on board.

classically the train shuddered onto the platform at 22.30 and a glimpse of what was to come.... several dark, crammed carriages with faces peering through the steamed windows and a visible smell, suddenly transforms into tables with candles and wine and then cabins with beds and lastly a few carriages much like the ones i know from home. these were ours, having been told tourists werent allowed the cheapest seats, some relief passes over me along with other feelings. all the same we fought for our seats, space and sleep half thenight. the restaurant was amazing and we met an argentinian santa/fisherman desperate to practise his english and he turned out to be one of those extroadinary and generous people you can talk to for hours, with plenty of adventures to tell and sad things too. this was continued over mat´e in the morning, 2hours after we were supposed to arrive.

the mountains surrounding barriloche (the next destination) began to appear, beautiful lakes, horses and the train experience was complete.

pinguinfest '06'

well no orca action was made up for by the pinguin fest, as we drove into the park they looked like plastic knome penguins for miles all standing bolt upright looking in random directions.

it was the largest single colony of peguins on the continent, 50000+, they didnt react to us wandering amongst them at all, if you bent down and looked at them directly they bend their heads to one side then the other, much like george the setter used to.

whale watch

after a long drive through classic patagonian barren land spotted with the occasional guanaco(a type of lama) and ostich like animal i will find out the name for, we arrive at the famed beach, where the best wildlife photographers come to catch the moment the orcas lunge up onto the beach and grab a lunch of sealion.

it feels quite strange getting excited about witnessing a murder and i find myself hoping to see the orcas but for the sealions to get away. in the end i guess this is just as cruel a hope.

so far lots of sea lions but no whale (officially dolphin) action.just a very curious armidillo that keeps snuffling at my feet which is a little unnerving.

glacier

my sadness at having left my good friend and the pangs of home sickness begin to dissapate as i meet an incredible french girl and guy, the kind of people you long to meet.

it fades further still as the beautiful moreno glacier swings into view. shades and scales of green and earth red cover the mountains, deep blue skies, the milky blue lake and everything illuminated by the brilliance of the white peaks and jagged glacier between shining agua blue.

eagles fly around and occasionally pieces of the 50metre high wall of ice fall off into the water with a roar and create incredible slow motion circular waves in the still tranquil lake.

i love buses

the 1st 12hrs of the 40hr ride passed pretty painlessly, terrible argentinian film, who´s meaning seemed to be "men are cheaters but bless em they cant help it". food and drink was included too on this bus! and last nights dinner was... beef and bread! luckily i`d already eaten and wasnt very hungry,

however... it felt so strange leaving the 'meat' to be thrown away as it has so often felt recently, i hate it, the waste and being such a complicated eater and i really dont want vegetarianism to be an identity, i think sometimes the 'why' gets underplayed when something is a habit. so i tried it, it tasted strange and bloody but not bad but my curiosity is satisfied and although the waste issue is unresolved, i think in most situations i can avoid it. i dont feel guilty for having eaten it but i feel refreshed in my thoughts and beliefs, knowing for certain again why i chose this.

40 hours on and snow capped mountains appear on the horizon, the scenery for the majority of the trip has been pretty non-existant, meaning a beautiful sunset, brilliant stars and a sunrise breakfast but now in the distance i get a glimpse of whats in store.

b.a. summary

the last two weeks have been good living for me but pretty bad reading for y’all. Filled with boozing, touristing, rambling, bonding fun splashed with the seriousness I have embellished upon in previous posts.
The boundaries of day and night have been blurred beyond recognition, the never sleeping city has proved itself when quiet nights lead us to nodland at 4-5am and discussion filtered in and out between pure unadulterated rubbish, politcs, fashion, economics and telos*(see below) embarrassing secrets, new formed philosophies and opinions profound until viewed by dry, sober eyes.

And I’m off with the beautiful Patagonia in my sights… glaciers, walking, breathing good air, etc.


*telo: a hotel with an hourly rate used by locals and tourists alike and widely acceptable in many circles due to people continuing to live in their parents homes till marriage.they have the usual scale of differences as in any hotel there are different standards and discretion is key. Most amusingly the room service is a menu of all kinds of sex toys complete with glossy pictures.

visiting the neighbours

A quick addition to the countries list; popped over to uraguay for a couple of sleepy days in colonia. A beautiful quaint contrast to b.a. and gave me a wee prep for dorm life again. A mixture of coffee drinking and the usual frollickings proceeded by a first day of extreme bike riding to the beach and playground. I could have made it round the whole of uraguay if ed would have kept up! As it is I believe we gave the mopeds, tourist golf carts and horses a run for their money.

march 24th - nunca mas

the day the military dictatorship started 30years ago, the start of a dark and depressing part of history which is to recent and sore to even be called history and has left the country with fear and depression, pessimism and fight. i don't think i've ever seen such a politically motivated city, everyday you can see signs, protests, events, protests calling for justice on those that ordered the torture and disappearing of a suspected 30,000 people. in the forefront are the 'madres de plaza de mayo' who represent mostl;y the loved ones of the disappeared or the grandmothers of the stolen children. these women are so persistant and strong, they have never stopped demanding the justice they deserve but they are known and respected and are being listened to accross the board it would seem.

i am so inspired by the way in which love compells them to act, there is no other force in this fight eg;money/power. women, seen, treated, trained to be passive - love compells them to fight tirelessly and persevere above all things.

and today a march of ... people through the streets, crowds chant and drum, some moved in silence holding pictures of either those they lost or those they want justice brought upon and whilst i feel immense pride for my kin it is so mingled with discust on the other side.

the faces of buenos aires

As always there are such great contrasts here. Buenos Aires (B.A.) known for her grandeur and sophistication, her beautiful buildings, stylish people and lust for the arts and cultura.

On the corners of the streets darker argentinians with a signature smell root through the bins, filling carts with recyclable goods from 5am to 2am, 7days a week.

The paintings on the wall talk of oppression and the dictatorship mostly but also of the economic crash and the poverty. Down by the docks, where beautifully painted houses stand next to tango bars and authentic restaurants, there is a direct example of the contrast where 2streets away the houses are faded , windows smashed and bricked up, churches used as squats. Its like a time warp and truly the only restoration that is done is purely for the tourists benefit and the money made seems to go nowhere near the rest of the community who really are in need of it.

j'arrive

Like a drowned rat I fall into mr denbees flat in san telmo, Buenos aires and am confronted by the lovely face of my sleepy friend and a beautiful, spacious, characterful and warm apartment filled with incredible 20’s paraphernalia, a big wooden table, open centre, balcony, a roof terrace a beautiful high ceiling rooms. Its like a dream and when the rain passes the next day a glorious and proud city is revealed to me. Paddy’s day goes off, the streets packed, the booze flowing and festive atmosphere all over. We stagger in at 6am after a few bars and a few streets to find a bewildered Irishman on the doorstep, how novel for this day in argentina.

newell old boys

after passing my last hours in sao paulo and brazil with a crazy lady and a lovely old old peruvian vendor i get to my second flight, where i am addopted by a ... of argentian football fanatics/hooligans, who chant until they're stopped and swarm around me asking questions about why i am here and questions about newell, kent where their beloved club founder is from. its highly confusing but very enjoyable, they'll be no peace tonight and tommorow paddys day, aye aye aye!

"brazillian women want guns out of their lives"

i venture into the rarely recommended sao paulo to save myself the torture of waiting 13hours in an airport and to find a bed and shower for a few hours. feeling pretty lost, a bit out of cash and out of luck and generally a tad miserable after a good last nights memories, with good friends i'll miss, were turned sour by one dodgy guy.

the city is daunting and grey. i find some decent, cheap food and head towards the cathedral for a quick look before sleeping and there infront of the building is a "control arms" concert and demo."brazillian women want guns out of their lives" painted on the posters and over their faces. the poor, crazy and young dance to the... interesting music. on the opposite side of the square a man preaches to a good crowd, slapping his bible on his hand to emphasise his point. i hope to myself that god would only be seen dead with the bible basher or in the cathedral and alive and fighting with the passionate protestors in the square.

drunk, bloated bodies pave the cathedral steps and wrap themselves around the palm trees, as tall as the highrise office blocks surrounding. its a suprise ending to my 1st time in brazil and i'm ready to meet buenos aires with renewed energy.

bahia

it never stops!

i knew i had to come and see this place where people have capoeira and dance and rhythm in there blood, where the music wakes you early morning and accompanies you into your dreams at night.

there's in an incredible mix of black, white and latino here that is more natural and intergrated than anywhere i've been before.

the people are so colourful, joyful, active and can stretch the truth to unknown limits. i feel totally embraced (a little too close at times.) after meeting some locals last night for some drinks, dreads and fun we took to the beach today with the same likely lads. still stunned by their boyish pride and flexibility we were freestyle rap on the bus, given capoeira lessons and hit on in the most shameless, obvious way and eventually, when set straight, befriended.

a very strained discussion in portugese highlighted to me the anger one of the guys held for the attitude of the rich toward the poor here, the discrimination in healthcare and his passion and anger burned a hole in me.

arrial a'juda

of the little i do actually plan for this voyage of mine, i´m seldom right and i believe this is often for the best. as i left rio i anticipated the next week being quite solitary and in all honesty i felt it was what i needed, but insteadi met some people whoi i have the ability to be so comfortable with , i barely needed time apart from them.

well apart from myself and these guys (representing italy, sweden, belgium and peru) everyone in this place we have come is from israel, it is quite phenominal and we are constantly spoken to in hebrew!

the whole place had the usual paradise feel and i caught myself acting as if it were normal to live this life of luxury and adventure constantly.

ihla grande (big island)

the diamond studded sand beneath my toes stretches out into the dark, calm sea, lapping against the boats which jut into an equally jeweled sky. i find the beach giving me a strange sensation of home and i realise again how easy it is to be part of these beautiful islands.
ihla grande lives up to its name and is a mass of unexplored and exotic forest and hills, rocks and bweach. small crabs pop in and out of the sand infront of me and mosquitoes feast on my rich vegetariean blood.

sadly the world and his wife in the form of backpackers had the same, apres carnival exotic island chill out, idea.
the days that followed held many delights; a boatride to the acclaimed best beach in brazil, where the sand squeaks beneath your feet like fresh snow and tartan fish dance around you. hikes up to the highest point in the island with a view indescribable. the jungle wove its own path with tree roots and it was hard work but vibrant with sound and colour, descending to cool off in a freezing natural pool with rock slides!


the island is a web of windy little streets, vast unpacked beaches, pousadas with so many flowers, humming birds and vultures. the feeling of safety is immense, the pace is half that of rios.

however on returning to rio for one evening a sadness befalls me as i see that ihla grande is the land of the rich, the ideal paradise, by sitting for a drink in a side street my eyes are once more filled as i see the truth and the other side of the gap, the vast gap, leering men, scantily clad, starey eyed girls, dirty, drunk, young and old, poverty, drugs and prostitution. theyre the ones the rich build their security gates to keep out, the ones i fear and love so much more.

carnaval

6days of seeing the sun appear and dissapear, of sequin bikinis, vibrating brown bums, drums and rum!
its hard to describe and my memory is somewhat hazy but i will try.

the carnival parades themselves were awesome to behold, beautiful floats and costumes, thousands of dancers and musicians giving everything and never stopping.
the streets were, a different but, equally thrilling spectacle. every corner offered food, drink, bands, drums. the brazillians were sambering, the gringos staggering and every person of every age and colour partying 24hours of the day.

the beaches packed with barely clad bodies, mini thong bikinis and trunks, most proudly displaying a brazillian flag to barely cover some bodyapart.
at ant point you could turn into a street to find swathes of people following a shaking carnival float, a patriotic song, flags, drums, the works.


the city didnt stop for a rest and yet there is a natural pace that is so unimposing.
time up and my body needs a rest, every organ seems to be trying to communicate its dissaproval. i fear i~ll miss this incredible, vibrant city all the same.

iguacu

Brasil side
as for my dream, my lifes unseen love, to go to the iguacu, to more than look in my rainforest book and allow my imagination to run but to touch and taste and smell and be amongst and within those falls.

it was everything and more than i dreamed, it was soul shaking an dutterly peaceful and i blubbered like a baby betwixt its magnificence and essence of awe soaking my skin.

Argentina side
after being rained off and frozen the next day we tried one more time the morning before we set off for rio an dcarnival.

the sun didn~t grace us with its presence but nor did the rain (raechs curse lifted)and we saw the falls more intimately than the other side and perhaps more than we should have...

a tip off lead us onto an island, through a barrier adn after a fevoured scramble over rocks, across ominous pockets of murky water, under abandoned boats and out into a gushing waterfall. feeling like naughty children the whole time we found our little paradise and swum amongst the rainbows and nipping fish with the constant warmth of the waterfalls spray all over us. the onlty people to be seen were ant sized on a viewing platform we had been 2days previously.

~fast feeted ladies

everything here in brasil is very lush but i miss mexico a little and the ability to communicate, it was becoming much easier with the spanish but portugese is a new world of grunts to me!

last night pulled by a craving for icecream at midnight went out but with plans for an early night before 22hr busride at 7am . but one thought of icecream lead to a caparhina and one of them led to another and before we knew it we were stumbling home at 5am having had our funk dancing appreciated and our attempts at samba mocked and looking like wed been in a swimming pool but smelling worse.
it was ace! token tourists in local rio and totally loved for the novelty of it even by the lovely stunning, fast feeted ladies too.

my guts twist in excitement at the thought of those falls i desire so much, only 9hrs to go

BRAZIL

goodbye to de jefe, for that matter mexico and central america!

sao paulo airport fills me with comfort and dread, the familiarity of disorganisation all around, a token israeli and the words caiprinha and samba flying around but i cannot speak a word of portugese and suddenly realise how much my spanish had come on from talking quite freely to an array of blank faces and i´m once more a gibbering wreck like 3 months before.

well after battling my way through the streets of rio to find a well hidden hostel and eventually meet raech after a wee mix up with plane times! i arrive...Rio; sequins, tassels, beautiful people and beach again at last!

De Jefe

mexico city starts with a bang, late night rum session and a lobbstered attempt at music genre talk with mexican barman followed by a day of huge temples and avenues of death!

magnificent aztec ruins, with guide by local english teacher and UFO spotter, proceeded by amazing enchillades con mole(not the animal), gourmet hot chocolate, a private show of fine artists studio and an ace house party into the wee hours.

the pace at last drops:
strolling along a 5 lane busy road after mastering the metro system where it is believed you should "accidently" grope anyone you can in the crowd.
despite the traffic it feels strangely peaceful outside and the pavement is lined with individually designed and painted fibre glass cows, which offers a great amount of visual stimulation and amusement for me.

mexico city, the biggest city in world is certainly overwhelming, the buildings, the people, pace colours, heat, pollution , the cows! and right now i´m enjoying doing it alone, i´ve no inclination to meet new people at the moment, so i´m pleased to be part city girl (looking like a dirty, derranged, hippy) and have a clue how this type of world works.

time to move

my last day in oaxaca and i was getting used to living here, but its clearly time to move on, sad as i am to leave those i´ve grown close to here.

last night we sampled the delights of some gypsy jazz followed by a visit to a notorious(ly bad) club called... libido, fopr qa night called... orga´smos - well when in rome!

today was a the total contrast, a wonderful, peaceful afternoon in old old convent with dusty surroundings and behind the dusty mountains.

i´ll miss these mountains.

return to the city

well the next few days were more of the same, beautiful walking and climbing, relaxing in the breezy, sunny hills, eating great cheap food, barely any tourists and lovely locals.

i headed back to stay at some friends in the city after the excursion and a small trip into a hilarious bar. it felt like living somewhere , a mixture of satisfaction and itchy feet. ill move on soon after the zapatista demonstration.´

La Otra Compaña
The zapatista demo was pretty incredible. sadly no pictures of the man marcos came out. he would seem to be quite an incredible revolutionary man, but an idol none the less, with pipe, hat and other garb, somewhat che alike you might say.

however so many groups that are ordinarily repressed here were represented and heard and cheered; transexuals, homoesexuals, the indiginous people, women and more.

it was an honour to be there and it was colourful and full of warlike cries and chants, flags and banners. the feeling of deep privelige to be amongst these people, struggling and fighting for change and a kind of freedom. also to see a clearly idolised man giving an example of equality to the men here, when he talks of being done with the macho image and respect of women.

oaxaca montañas

back in the mountains, now in oaxaca, and this time it has a totally different flavour. a crazy welshie(called welshie) with herbal remedies and tales of cheese stealing and tree hugging with vertigo, myself and a lass who lives in sanfran, set off to catch the most awe consuming and vast sunset i have ever seen. we had a 270° vista and it lasted for ages and changed every mountain and valley.

its nice to tread with some ladies for a change and we arrive to beautiful cabañas in the woods (living it up this time). having brought more than just refried beans to last 3days we ate, chatted and slept early.

for once i am pleased that my bladder wakes me up at 3am, as when i´m trudging out to the ecotoilets i glance around and the stars give me the impression that i must have moved to a different planet, the brilliance and quantity i cannot describe and only when my bones began to quiver with the cold could i tear myself away and back to bed.

later in the morning had its own delights; misty woods, the sound of brooks babbling, tall, slender pines filling the forest with an aroma almost to pungent for our city noses, views of trees and mountains unceasingly beautiful.

after a not to strenuous 4 hour walk, interspersed with tortillas and sap collecting breaks, we arrive at the next village within the cooperative 8 pueblos who sell and share thier produce together as well as sharing the proceeds of the ecotourism.

our new cabaña looks down onto a village of roofs covered in drying corn, bright clothes hanging to dry and streets named unity, peace, freedom, reformation. the cabaña has an enormous fireplace and hammocks outside, where the 3 tired girls lay about to eat and rest as the altitude of 3100 metres has taken its toll a wee bit.

oaxaca city

from the beach back to the city, now in a dorm room full of scandanavians, infact i´m the only honourary scandi!

at first i didn´t care much for this city but this morning i found the things i was hankering after, good local fresh food market, great street food (some of the best i´ve had) with a real local feel and social scene, my improving spanish allows me to be a little more accepted and a little less stared at untill i offer the word vegetariana.

the priest in the cathedral sings beautifully in latin over my shoulder and i realise that this city has a lot creativity and opinion to offer that i had not accredited it with.

i feel relit and my hangover slowly subsides as i munch on some fresh mango (covered in chilli and lime of course)

busride thoughts

sometimes i find the cultural differences a little hard to deal with, in the people mostly, but also sometimes when its too hot, i long for a rainy walk in the lush lumpy hills of somerset but then i catch a glimpse of that which is universal.

for this time i see a grandmother, her grandson grabs her hand to drag her to see something. she is different in colour and shape, language and her life is so far apart from that which i know but i believe i would find that look in every corner of the world.

these steadfast thoughts sustain you through the nostalgia and comfort craving.

more of the same and different

maybe someone in higher places believes as a nurse i should understand what it is to be sick in all manner of places. latest health tip: avoid ellotes, street bought corn on the cob covered with mayonaise, chilli and cheese, unless asked by lonely planet to do a detailed review on hostel toilets!

beyond all that yesterday i moved beaches (its a hard life!) puerto escondido was fun ¿i guess? but there was still the classic tourist shops strip and so much was directed towards me, us, the tourists...not my cuppa tea really.

however... this morning i woke up in mazunte, i crawled out of my scummy little bunkbed, with torn mosquitoe net (which the mossys did take advantage of) and as i stand up i hear the sun calling me from behind a series of rocks in the ocean, the birds are calling back and apart from the crashing waves and few wandering dogs there is little other movement. the sky begins to scar and its not long before a ferrocious yet luminous pink sunrises over the rocks, flooding everything in its path with colour and shape. this truelly is a magnificent creature.

before til after

1 week ago:before
well there´s too much to say since last wrote, i´ve got a bit more into the culture of mexico i believe. from driving VWbugs round crazy little rubble villages, discovering clear water springs in the mangroves, exploring ancient mayan ruins deep in the jungle to my next and most exciting venture looming before me.

i am heading up to a small mountain town of indigenous people where you have to be interviewed for your intentions before entering the community. his process is a product of the zapatista movement, a liberation/political group who believe in standing for the rights of the indigenus people, focusing in chiapas (here, where i am). they are well recognized and have growing support, but they are a target for government propaganda and military attacks, there has been several massacres and people involved do have to be very careful.

so i hooked up with two crazy kids who need to make connections with the cooperatives setup in this zapatista zona. i´m so excited, at last i get to see what fair trade means and so many other issues that have barely graced my rapidly expanding view.

during
they sat there facing us, the 1st two men, dressed casually and the 3rd a women in her beautiful traditional garb, each of them wearing the symblic black balaclava, moving slightly with their facal expressions and representing the unity and solidarity of the movement.

the atmosphere when we arrived in the 2nd nterview hut was very tense, however after we said our part, stated our case and requested to stay in this place in order to learn the culture, struggle and history, it was clear to see the tension was produced by passion not hostilty. watching the eyes of the man, who spent much tme to explain to us the basic history of these hardworking and oppressed people, was a very moving and confusing experience3. the language acted as a frustration for me, however it wasn´t hard to understand the weight of the past and present situation on these people.

who was to be there, thats what they wanted to know, and i knew after all this that i was deeply privelidged, nt only to be allowed to experience and see first hand a little of this world and to learn from their pain and toil but also that my own life is so different, that i cannot ever fully understand.

stopped by the elements, mist fell like a parachute and crept into the room, and the rain began against the corrugated iron roof. for 30 minutes we sat in silence as it hammered away at the small wooden hut. the walls of which displayed slogans, banners, beautiful paintings of the surrounding people, the produce. che guevara to my right, zapatistas facelessly marching on my left.
it strikes me immediately that women are depicted differently here. the paintngs are of strong women; praying, marching and infront of me sits this women on the council which decides who can enter this community. i have rarely been looked at myself with this equality. my hear is still racing.

after
well the cold wet night passed and my head is still reelng at the process we went through yesterday. we sleep in a draughty ¨audotorium¨, i in a hammock and the crazy kids, who presented me with thisidea and oppurtunity, in a tent on a concrete platform. politely i decline when the one other person in there offers to share his tent, more fool me reflect as my feet begin to defrost around 9am, 3hours afer waking. note to self: never refuse to share tent with beautiful french men in the future.

so in the morning me, crazy kids and BFM, go to explore and visit the different cooperatives and organisations that have drawn us here. the response was somewhat disappointing after the grilling and time we had yesterday, plus acquirng written autorisation today, noone wants to speak to us for various reasons and we return somewhat disheartened to our barn for a brunch of refred beans, canned peas and tomatoes.

every bulding is painted with strikng images, the one that keep returning to is the suprised looking women with the flowng blue hair, i remain puzzling her signifcance for this place and myself.

for now i return to similar internal struggles as i have encountered many times before.
¿where do you start and where do you stop?
these people speak comercio justo (fair trade) and the importance of organic corn, aswell as the empowerment invoice and work of the indiginous people but they sell cocacola and all other commercial products, they stand to campaign , represent and educate , yet those wh show interest and share passion for these very issues are snubbed.

the movement, the righteousness of the cause/goal is not spoilt for me but i am reminded of their humanity and my own and while sit and assess and criticuse others, i see my own carelessness and defeatism and it is encouraging to know i have learned this lesson here and experienced somethng totally unique.

back on the road

holidays are over...

2 hours waiting at the wrong bus station, quick bartering with taxi drivers, late bus, 5 hour journey, seat right infront of toilet and 25min walk to hostel with stupid 20kg bag. i know i make it sound wonderful but in truth it is! its thrilling, i´m back on the road and this city; merida looks amazing, its busy and colorful and although its dark the buildings look pretty crazy. i walked past bands setting up in the zocolo (main sq), women in another barrio dressed in brilliant white traditional dresses are gathered ready for something to happen , who knows what. hay huge open amusement arcades with latino guys, all dressed up and sweating on dance mat computer games.

the hostel is ace...kitchen, hot water!etc, just met a girl who has met a load of people from the town, seems to have a wicked subculture, she was buzzed and told me a bit more about the zapatistas marching through here... its getting exciting.

already i´ve spoken more sanish today than in the last week and apart from those pesky amoebas coming back for a second round i feel grand.

my christmas and new years beach hols were amazing and much needed (and i got a tan at last) i met some really sound people and had a lorra fu, not all of which i remember.

there´s a photo lik¡nk on the side but i need to work on it, they are there somewhere.

tata for now.x