Welcome to Ecuador

May 11th, 2010 | 1 comment

It was almost surreal how the vegetation and landscape changed from one side of the border to the other. Peru was dry and Ecuador was suddenly green. We spent a few hours weaving our way through bustling market streets with our windows tightly shut (as suggested in our guide-book) in search of the customs office. We’d signed out of Peru but never signed in to Ecuador. They were building a new customs office of sorts but hadn’t quite finished yet and since it was weekend, the guys who usually sit in the road directing vehicles to the old border post, weren’t there. We also met an interesting couple from Colombia. They were traveling down on two motorbikes and had also spent a good chunk of their evening in search of customs in order to leave Ecuador.

We eventually found the old customs office and some grumpy old man working there wasn’t going to listen to a young woman and ordered me to wait outside the office while James tried to explain in his broken Spanish that although it looked like we were going from Ecuador to Peru, we were actually trying to find customs to get IN to Ecuador with the necessary paper work for our van. I got chatting with a young man outside who seemed to have a good understanding of what was going on. He listened to me and suddenly shouted to the old man inside “they’re looking to get IN to Ecuador. He then hopped in the car and took us to the Ecuadorian customs office in the middle of town jammed between two little shops on the corner of a dodgy-looking street. They were out of ink so we had to take the officer to an internet café so he could print out our document (which we obviously had to pay for) and only then were we officially in Ecuador.

Peru

January 18th, 2010 | 1 comment

Sheesh, not only have we entered and exited Peru but it’s a whole new year already. Happy New Year! I hope you all had a massive celebration and a beautiful start to this inevitably superfantastic new year.

Our arrival in Cuzco was a massive relief. The altitude sickness and rocky bus ride up were both somewhat unpleasant but the city welcomed us with open arms. It was über touristy as one might expect. Internet cafes, hotels and restaurants and bars everywhere. Fair-skinned foreigners with massive backpacks making their way up and down cobbled-stone slopes and Lonely Planets on every second coffee table.

James and I got in a day or two before Garth and Michelle so we could meet up with Desiree who was coming to join us for a trek up to Machupichu from NY. We both felt a bit nauseous from the altitude. We also didn’t apply the advised “take it easy for the first few days” re altitude sickness. On day one we took a taxi to a town called Pissac just outside (behind one mountain and around another) Cuzco where they have a massive local market on Saturdays. It was awesome to see all the traditionally clad women sitting behind piles of colourful fresh fruit and vegetables.

The place was buzzing with locals and foreigners. The locals were buying fresh produce and the foreigners were buying ponchos, beanies, scarves and jewelry from the stalls behind the rural market. Our timing was perfect. We wandered in and had a look-see at all the funky things the locals were selling (and the guinea pigs that were roasting on the grill behind the stalls) and made our way to the end of the market where we’d read about a church ceremony in a tiny little church at the end of a field. The service was coming to an end and a young girl with an angelic voice was singing hymns. As the ceremony ended a string of young men lead by an old man in traditional gear walked out, through the little alleys and towards the market.

I did some hard bargaining for a taxi on our way back. We were going to take a bus but the buses were jammed full of people to the extent that passengers were practically sitting on each other’s laps. We knew the super windy road and weren’t going to chance motion sickness after the previous day’s bus ride. So I bargained with the taxi driver and off we went. The three of us were silent for the 45 minutes it took us to get back to Cuzco but for the odd ¡sheesh! ¡CUIDADO! and ¡holy shitballs!. Definitely up there in my top 2 scariest back seat experiences. We mentioned Michael Schumacher to the driver when we finally got to our destination but he obviously wasn’t watching much formula 1. We gave each other a “we’re so lucky to be alive” hug and proceeded to our hotel.

Garth and Michelle joined us the following evening. They made it all the way from the border to Cuzco in two days with only one traffic officer bribe. I was well impressed. We shopped around for the best four-day adventure up to Machupichu and planned to depart the following day. The famous Machupichu trek is booked up roughly six months in advance. We’ve been traveling on more on a spur-of-the-moment basis, so we opted for the cheaper and more adventurous route to Machupichu. We went with Johan (we found the only Peruvian with an Afrikaans name) and his father’s route, Inca Jungle Trail (http://www.inkajungletrail.com/). Over the past few years Peruvian guides have discovered more ancient Inka trails in the mountains surrounding Machupichu which implies that you can take numerous routes in the same general direction and still walk along sections of ancient trails made by the Incas back in the day. The trail we chose included some downhill mountain biking, white water rafting, hiking, natural hot springs and forest trails along a railway track. Such fun!

Four days, incredible views, steep mountains and high altitudes, rivers and Incan ruins. On day one we took some mountain bikes down from (just below) the highest point in the area. It was early in the morning and the mountains were so misty that we couldn’t see further than 5m ahead us. We were on a tar road so it really wasn’t quite the off-road hardcore adventure we had envisioned but the hair-pin-bends, pot holes, trucks and occasional rockfall in the middle of the road in the thick mist made up for the absence of off-road biking. We got our money’s worth of adrenaline.

That same afternoon we went white water rafting near the little town, Santa Maria, where we were going to spend the night. A little man called Carlito was available as our river guide. He spoke no english and Garth, James and Michelle spoke no Spanish so I sat at the back and translated to the front of the boat. He reconed that the river was at level 4 at this time of year. He explained the: Forward, backwards, left, right, jump left, jump right and jump in. All the orders sounded the same from the front. Jump and go were the loudest words and the rest got lost in the sound of gushing water. When we got chatting in the back of the boat he mentioned that he hardly ever did white water rafting, that canoeing was his thing. He also mentioned that the second boat was far from being the rescue boat as our guide had told us. It was in fact a bunch of guys learning to raft. It became evident when we hit hard rapids and the men on the “rescue” boat were squealing like little girls. No rescue backup, no experienced guide and no first aid kit. Just the kind of adventure we were looking for.

The following days took us hiking through the mountains along Inca trails. Mango, avocado and paw paw trees lined the dirt roads and coco, coca and coffee plantations surrounded the Inca trails. At times the trail was so incredibly steep that it was hard to imagine how an old couple living on a steep slope harvested their produce. Unreal.

We spent a few hours at the outdoor hot springs at Santa Teresa surrounded by green mountains and sky. The mosquito spray came in handy for any part of the body that was outside the water. There were three pools with varying temperatures and ice cold water that came from a waterfall above. So we’d stand under the ice cold water and hyperventilate for a few seconds before jumping in the warmest pool. It felt amazing. By the fourth or fifth round it felt like I was floating.

The third day was a walk through jungle along old railway tracks. We heard the most beautiful bird calls and saw a ridiculously pretty bird (the Motmot). Not to mention the transparent and massive yellow and shiny blue butterflies. It was surreal.

The last day was our arrival at Machupichu. It meant a 4 am departure from the hotel at Aguas Calientes and a 1.45 hour hike up an endless steep staircase. Plateklip times five. The site opens at 6Am so we queued for a little while before entering the super misty Machupichu. It was beautiful to see little sections of this surreal site reveal themselves as the clouds slowly lifted. It was almost too much to take in for one little Tat. We walked around the site for a few hours and then attempted to climb Machupichu mountain, one of the peaks leading off the site.

Wainapichu is the most popular climb where visitors collect a limited amount of tickets and queue to climb it. But on the other side of the site is a slightly higher peak with an equally beautiful view of the ruins. Strangely few people climb it. Perhaps because it’s higher or maybe just because it’s not as famous as wainapichu. Either way, we hiked up and got an awesome bidr’s eye view of the site. I didn’t make it all the way to the top but James, Desiree and Garth came back down with only good reports.

We hit Cuzco for a few days of recovery from some horrible stomach bug, said goodbye to Dez and headed over the Andes along with some crazy truck driving. Massive trucks were overtaking us and each other along blind hair-pin bends with cliffs for emergency lanes. Exciting stuff. The scenery was super beautiful. Massive dunes with cactus silhouettes ahead of the sunset. We drove past the Nazca lines and after 2/3 days of the curviest route I’ve ever driven along EVER, made it to Lima where Graeme and Anel were waiting for us.

We spent a few days in Lima and then flew to Iquitos, a city accessible only by water or air. We’d booked ourselves in for a few days at a rustic lodge three hours up the amazon river from Iquitos with Amazonia Expeditions (http://www.perujungle.com/).

Boat rides on black water surrounded by thick green Jungle, birds of all shapes, colours and sizes. Trees, vines, leaves bigger than all of us and super beautiful butterflies. We had a local guide called Christian. His knowledge was impressive and he was super professional. He took us on night walks through thick jungle where we saw mosquitoes, snakes, bats all sorts of interesting insects. We saw little monkeys with white mustaches, Sloths, Pygmy marmosets, pink river dolphins and and and…

A few days in Iquitos brought us back to earth. Tuk tuks (rickshaws), fruit juices, banana pancakes and and island vibe. There were old colonial buildings covered in old hand painted Portuguese tiles and a handful of expat restaurants and cafés with crazy old Americans who had come for a visit many years back and never left. We flew back to Lima where Graeme and Anel were catching their flight back to South Africa. Happy to see Frank was still around and still in one piece we plotted and embarked on our mission up the coast. One or two little hick ups (nothing a little transmission fluid couldn’t handle) and plenty of super beautiful landscapes and a healthy stop in a place called Mancora for Christmas.

We spent half a day hunting for our affordable little piece of heaven up the massive white stretch of beach. Mancora’s a popular holiday town for Peruvians and foreigners alike. So finding accommodation around Christmas time wasn’t going to be cheap or easy. Great beach culture good waves make for great holidaying. Las Balsas (http://www.vivamancora.com/lasbalsas/) was one of the first places to be built along the beach many years ago. It was like a breath of fresh air in between the resort-like hotels that lined the coast. Warm water, great waves and an eden-esque garden with humming birds drinking from the swimming pool. Comfortable quirky cabañas and super friendly staff. We would have stayed longer but they were all booked up for new years. We made a feast of Christmas day with fresh tuna from the market (seared), prawns from the market (butterflied and braaied) and all sorts of delicious fruit and salads. Nam nam! The manager, Alberto, was a treasure chest full of interesting stories about the local politics. We miss you Al! I went for my first ever surf lesson on the last morning and then we hit the road.

From paradise at Mancora to Ecuador.

It was bizarre how drastically the vegetation changed from one side of the border to the other. Ecuador was lush and green compared to peru. The border crossing is a three-page story in itself. We crossed the border and spent one and a half hours searching for customs on the other side. We checked out of Peru, almost checked back in by accident and then eventually discovered that customs was in the middle of a bustling and dodgy part of the centre of this border town jammed between two shops. We met a Colombian couple who were traveling on two motorbikes and they too had spent a long time searching for this place.

The beach culture in Ecuador is definitely taken way more seriously than in Peru. Here beaches weren’t just the edge of town. We drove through loads if funky little beach villages and the odd seaside city with skyscrapers overlooking long white beaches. I was surprised at how first-world Ecuador seemed compared to peru.

Within two days of crossing the border we landed in a small town that we’d been advised to spend New Years Eve at. Montañita. The whole town is designed around partying. Hotels, hostels, bars, restaurants and cafes. Every afternoon between ten and twenty little cocktail stands set up along the little road that leads to the beach. Each little stand has an endless list of potential cocktails and six little plastic chairs around a tiny table. The more “fancy” ones have massive sound systems and they outdo their direct neighbors (half a meter to the side) with the volume knob. Street vendor hippies sell hand woven bracelets along every corner and every other corner houses fresh fruit stalls with liquidizers for fruit juices and milkshakes. It felt like some kind of party amusement park only it was a real little town on the coast. Needless to say we lived it up in style. By Jan 3 we discovered that Frank needed a new battery. Frank! Dammit! By the 4th we were on our way up the coast again.

Puerto Lopez was to be our next stop. A few days of island hopping, camping by the beach and then future trip preparation before James and I headed inland to Explore Ecuador while Garth and Michelle explored more of the coast with Frank. Bye bye Frank :(

The Northern Coast of Chile

November 10th, 2009 — Tatjana Buisson | 0 comments

We spent two weeks in Santiago looking for, buying and fixing our 1993 Ford Aerostar Van, otherwise referred to as Frank. The point was to find an affordable vehicle that would carry the four of us, our luggage (and potentially a pair of friends that might join us along the way) around Latin America.

We were super lucky to have been invited to stay with Nicolas, a friend I’d met in India in 2006. Experiencing Santiago with Nico and his local and foreign housemates made made for a super-fantastic authentic experience. We got the insider’s perspective on what fun goes down in urban Santiago. Football parties at the apartment, folk music concerts and Mapoche marches down O’Higgins Avenue. Magic. Somewhere in the middle of all this we all caught a bad strain of flu and took turns recovering at the apartment while the fitter of us would head out on the van hunt. I was got some catch-up time with Nic who works as an architect and Alejandro who had recently moved over from Barcelona to study.

Frank was the first Van we’d looked at. Compared to the other vans that were available at the ridiculously cheap price we intended to pay, this little Aerostar was a gem. Franco, the car’s owner, mentioned that he was selling it bcause he needed to pay for an eye operation. This became evident when he took us on the first test drive. Fortunately Franco fell in love with the dream we were planning to realize with this van and he helped us make the sale as smooth(ish) as possible. We took the car to Ford for a full check-up, took it to a mechanic, sorted through the paperwork and signed things at the local notary. We didn’t want to waste time traveling around the country in search of a better car and as far as we could see from combing we had done through websites, newspapers and dealers, Frank was the best thing we were going to find.

My car/ motor knowledge is right up there with my knitting skills. Non existent. In the past three weeks I have learned a spectrum of Spanish words for things that make other things do things that I don’t even understand in English. Between mechanics, wheel alignments and oil changes, I think I’d be able to string something toegther in the middle of the Atacama. At least I hope so.

Car sorted, Santiago visited and bronchitis/ sinusitis semi-under control, we hit route 5 like there was no tomorrow. Santiago surrounded by mountain ranges. So very VERY little fresh air gets in and not much smog gets out. Not ideal for the bronchitis we had picked up along the way. We went in search of fresh air and lots of green.

Our first destination the chained gate of some CONAF National Park with ancient, tall old palm trees and super beautiful vegetation, apparently. Very unfortunately the employees from all the National Parks in Chile had decided that this was the day they were going on striking. Maybe we should have left a day earlier… We hunted down the local bar, spoke with the bar lady who looked like she might know something about everyone. She hopped in the van and lead us to the park manager’s house and had us speak with his wife. The wife called her hubbie and told him we were desperately trying to get in. Hubby told us to wait for him to get out of the park at closing time (19:00) and we did. But strike it was and Ivan wasn’t going to make any exceptions for an eager bunch of gringos.

The sun was slowly approaching the horizon and this was not the kind of town that welcomed travelers with open arms. No B&Bs, no Backpackers and no camping. We eventually begged our way in to an odd resort. A massive park-like family holiday camping resort with 4 swimming pools. It was in its last week of preparation for the November summer holidays. The friendly man who seemed to be in charge of the gardens and things gave us five “NO”s before he saw the desperation in our eyes and folded with a “I’m only doing this because I traveled Europe when I was your age and I know what it’s like not to have a place to sleep for the night”. Thank you Mr.

We hit the road early the following day. Maitencillo is a tiny town on a hill overlooking the sea. It obviously booms in summer because the town consists mainly of cabañas up for rent. We soaked up the sunshine and the fresh sea air and the cheap ‘n cosy little cabaña we’d landed in. A sweet old couple from next door had opened up for us in exchange for petty-cash. The sunsets were rediculously beautiful and the “emapanadas marisco”s were filled with all sorts of strange and delicious shellfish. This was our first real encounter with the local pelicans. Super beautiful birds with orange and royal blue on their beaks.

Route five has taken us to an ensalada mixta of locations. Our first hair-raising adventure was yet another disappointing National Park. We’d rushed the car in on a 27km dirt road off the Panamerican Highway to make it in before closing time for camping only to find that the map we were given in the National Parks office was two years old and they haven’t had camping there since. On our way out in the middle of nowhere Frank broke down. He was out of steam. The sunset was an hour and a half away and route five was about 24km away. Middle of nowhere was to be our camp site for the night. We made peace with our location, cooked up a storm with Garth’s super boy-scout fire-building technique, watched a magnificent sunset and enjoyed the silence.

The following morning brought us a string of interesting people that led us to a seaweed plant (as in factory, not flora) where the tatt-sporting man in charge, Jose Luis, and his 4 sidekicks helped us load the van onto their massive truck, drove us in to town a two-hour drive away. They had tried to fix Frank but accidentally poured the transmission fluid into the oil tank…

With an army of angels looking over our shoulders a trucker called Miguel Angel pointed us in the direction of two mechanic twin brothers. They replaced the oil, put the right fluid in the right place and Frank was driving again. Since then we have come to realize that our van is no fan of dirt roads, up-hills and heat. This combo is relatively common in the driest desert in the world. Our long-distance drives are slow and gentle. So far so good.

We’ve had the freedom to free-camp along the coast and to discover distant neighbourhoods and forgotten towns. Camping is an activity I used to save for dusty summer music festivals but I think we’re becoming professionals. There is a lot to be said for the freedom of seeing a beautiful spot in a foreign land and having the means to make it your home for the night.

We’re currently in Iquique on the Northern NORTHERN coast of Chile waiting for Frank to heal. The plan is to head out and cross the Peruvian border tomorrow some time. I’ll keep you posted after that. For now we’re having a lot of fun. A lot. We spent two nights in the most beautiful place ever on the beach. We were the only people camping at the site for the first night. We saw a new animal; the Guanaco, and took too many pictures of desert cacti and strange mountains.

Buenos Aires to Santiago

October 15th, 2009 — Tatjana Buisson | 0 comments

Everyone’s still asleep and I finally have access to the laptop and some quiet time. Just me, Monica (the cleaning lady at Nicolas’ apartment) and the fruit bowl in the kitchen with the wifi.

As you may know, last night Chile played Ecuador in Santiago. So Juca (short for Juan Carlos) set up his projector in the living room and invited fifteen to twenty friends over to watch the match. Work ends early when the football’s on in Chile. We arrived home after a few hours of photo-hunting in a neighborhood called Bario Brazil and Juca greeted us at the top of the staircase. Behind him he had transformed the living-room into a cinema with a small table in the front sporting a massive bowl full of fresh hot-dog buns, a pot full of wieners, a bowl full of mashed avo, a bowl of chopped tomato and onion and a big tub of mayo. They call the combo the Super Pancho Italiano. The avo here is so cheap and abundant that it finds its way into everything. It’s the Italian hot dog because when you add a fat wad of mayo in the middle, it looks just like the Italian flag.

Spectators started arriving seconds after our arrival and in no time there was a beer in everyone’s left hand, a Super Pancho Italiano in every right and the game was up on the wall. The football here is a religion to some and an excuse to catch up with friends to others. Garth, Michelle, James and I took the back seats as the scene in the living-room was almost more entertaining than the game itself (to me). Juca had set up his laptop on a small table next to the couch. He’d set up the skype for a friend of his in some country where she couldn’t see the game live so she was watching the game on the wall through her webcam and shouting insults at the screen through the machine.

We’ve been in Santiago for exactly one week today. The idea was to get here fast so that we could find and buy a car and embark on this adventure with our own four wheels. The public transport in Argentina and Chile is great but there’s nothing like the freedom of spontaneity.

On the 21st September the four of us arrived in Buenos Aires. We organized an apartment for ten days. It was cheaper than a week in a hostel and gave us the opportunity to pretend that we lived in the city. The apartment was very basic but it provided everything we needed: bedrooms, a bathroom and a kitchen.

Buenos Aires was mad. I’m not sure what I expected but it definitely took me by surprise. When we came in from the airport on a sunny Sunday afternoon, there were loads of people scattered around big patches of green grass alongside the highway. There are no fences between the patches of grass and the highways yet families have picnics facing the endless stream of cars while their kids play ball meters from the traffic. They all have their little fold-up chairs and their máte and a great view of the traffic. Apparently this happens on sunny weekend days. It’s the Argentines’ chance at a lawn in the sunshine.

The city-scape is a mish-mash of neutral colours. Browns and greys with the odd colourful curtain popping through a sky-scraper’s window. A lot of the buildings look like they might need a log or five to keep gravity and time from getting the better of them.

In the center of the city angry graffiti and defaced statues shout from all direction. It’s clearly evident in the posters, graffiti and vandalism that the Argentines are passionate about their politics. I’m not very clued up on politics at all but it’s obvious that the man on the street is unhappy about something. A lot of buildings and statues are surrounded by fences and grills to stop vandals from getting in.

There is a lot of poverty on the streets where we’re staying in San Telmo. Every evening we’d see young and healthy and sane looking people rummaging through the trash separating cardboard and paper from glass and plastics. A taxi driver said that it was an initiative that had started many years ago in an attempt to inspire people to recycle but instead of doing the separation themselves they leave it to the “junkies” to make a few cents off their efforts.

The flip-side of the city is quaint cobble-stoned barios with old bars and cafes that seem to have stood the test of time. Quirky old bars with mismatched clusters of old photographs and paintings on the walls. The square in San Telma comes to life on Sundays. Unfortunately our Sunday was rainy so half the frills were missing but we got to see a beautiful old antique market with people selling everything from old green and blue glass soda bottles to miniature war figurines to old jewelry and toys. The stalls were beautiful but the characters sitting behind them were priceless. 

We also headed to the other side of the city to Palermo where one might think you’re around the corner from the Champs Elysées in Paris. Beautiful green parks and clean streets adorned with funky shops, galleries and cafes. There’s a big zoo which we decided not to check out but from the tourist bus James managed to spot the giraffe.

Argentina prides itself as the origin of Tango. So we decided to attempt a tango class. We found this massive hall under some theater which housed various dance classes daily. Such great atmosphere. Three teachers who split the hall into beginner, intermediate and advanced. The music went on throughout the class as the petite and feisty Tango teacher and her greased-back partner taught us the first basic steps. The hall had a bar at the end and little plastic tables and chairs scattered around the edges. So you could do your hour’s worth of Tango and grab a beer and a seat and watch the next Samba class with a couple dozen synchronized bums bouncing from left to right in front of your table.

On the whole we squeezed what we could out of this massive city in the time we had. Then it was time for some fresh air. We headed in the general direction of Santiago in Chile where we’re looking to buy a second had van to travel with. So our next stop in the center of Argentina, 12 hours on a bus later, was Mendoza, the wine district of Argentina. 

We decided on a little place just outside the city called Maipu where we’d spotted “rural cabañas”. We checked in for four nights or rest and recovery in a dry, warm town with ice-capped mountains that form the backdrop to dusty vineyards. 

There’s so much to tell and so little time to sit in front of the computer. I’ll fill you in (in a little less detail) on Mendoza, Puente del Inca and Santiago but for now, we’re packed and ready to hit the start of a whole new adventure. We’ve bought an old Ford Van between the four of us. The paperwork is finally done and dusted and the bronchitis and sinusitis are slowly clearing up. Today we hit the big wide open road as we slowly make our way to Peru over the next two weeks.