Not Lost in Translation

We were walking down Avenue Colon, when we came upon this estate agents. Their business must be throbbing.

Bikes And Wine

"You like my Reggae music?" the rental guy asks as we peddle off on the tandem we have rented for the day to ride around the Mendozan vineyards and olive fields.
Its a cracking day, there´s not a cloud in the sky as Sam hums the E.T theme tune in my ear as we cycle down a hazy treelined Argentinian country road.

First Stop. The wine museum where we are given a brilliant explanation of wine making in the 16th century. Then into the cellar door to pretend we know what we are on about as we swish and gurgle some reds and whites.

Second Stop. The Chocolate and Liquor factory. Willi Wonkas for grown-ups. One word - heaven. Can´t say much more about this place, except that we left drunk.

Third Stop. Lunch. Almacen Del Sur, which supplies Harrods with its tapenades & preserves. We eat a great meal with some other drunk wine conoseurs we have met on the way. We share a bottle of Trapiche (Marge, Farge, remember that from the Bel & Dragon? They make it here)

Fourth Stop. A grumpy old lady who doesn´t want to share her wine and gives us a very poor tasting. Never buy Vina del Cerno ..... they suck.

Fifth Stop. An epic tour around one of the most modern wineries in the world ´Tempus Alba´. Here we sit on their sunsoaked terrace looking across miles of vineyard sipping on three of their best wines EACH !


Finally now clearly all experts in wine we raid a French botaga where we dunk baguettes into freshly pressed olive oil, eat serano ham and drink rose in their garden while being taught how to make wine by a expert French man.

The day end perfectly peddling back through the vineyards with the sunsetting behind us.
I´m jealous of myself.
Back from heaven.
Chris & Sam

Beef Quest 3

Not wanting to give in so soon and go to an expensive resturant as we believe that if Argentina really does have the best steak in the world, it should be cheaply avaliable to all in the country. In other words, it´s possible to get a great steak in anywhere if you pay enough.
With this in mind we decided to head to the source of the problem and visit a meat market. On arrival we were pleased to see a small row of market bars full of old men drinking, chatting and eating directly opposite the butchers slamming their cleavers through huge cuts of beef. With confidence that we were about to eat some great meat, we sat ourselves on the bar stools and ordered some ´Lomo de Bife´ and beer. Failure. The beef was no better than the sole of your shoe. Onwards.

Hotel Savaloy

Off the bus in mendoza and we are attacked by the hostel tauts. ´Hotel Savoy´sounds alright and cheap. So we arrive there by taxi. The following is the conversation we had with the Hotel owner (nicknamed old witch) :

Chris: "Tiene una habitacion doble para dos noches?"
Witch: "Si"
Chris: "Es possible mirar"
Witch reluctantly: "Si"
Gets up and leads us to the room. I go in 1st and notice dubious brown and white patches on the bed spread.
Chris: "Tiene una habitacion con cama limpia"
Witch: "No esta sucio, son manchas de comida que no puedo quitar"
I translate. Chris then proceeds to have a look inside the bed, under the sheets at which point the witch explodes!
Witch: "No, no noooo! No puede mirar en la cama!"
I translate. We are both gobsmaked.
Chris: "Vale, adios!"
Sam on exit: "Buena suerte con el negocio!"

English Version

Chris: "Do you have a double room for two nights?"
Witch: "Yes"
Chris: "Can we see it"
Witch reluctantly: "Yes"
Gets up and leads us to the room. I go in 1st and notice dubious brown and white patches on the bed spread.
Chris: "Do you have a room with a clean bed?"
Witch: "It´s not dirty, it´s food stains I can´t get out"
I translate. Chris then proceeds to have a look inside the bed, under the sheets at which point the witch explodes!
Witch: "No, no noooo! You can´t look in the bed!"
I translate. We are both gobsmaked.
Chris: "Ok, goodbye!"
Sam on exit: "Good luck with the business!"

Beef Quest 2

We decided to think logically about our quest. Who sells the most beef in the world? McDonalds of course! Please note that having both read Fast Food Nation (highly recommended) and not eaten fast food for over 9 months, this was a big sacrifice for Beef Quest. We ordered our McNifica Meals and sat to eat. Same taste, no differente, nada. The Beef Quest continues. We feel we may need to throw some more money at the operation.

Beef Quest 1

Argentinian Beef, the best beef in the world. Legendary stories have been told to us on our way to Argentina as far a field as New Zealand. Rumours of steaks you can cut by just resting your knife on the top have tantalised us for months.
Finally we have arrived in Mendoza, Argentinas wine capital which produces 70% of the countries plonk. Unfortunately Sam is off alcohol while she gets rid of the Hives, so the countries sales will not be as forecasted when the Argentinian Wine Association was prewarned about her imminent arrival. However beef sales will be up because I have lost 10 kilos in Peru in preparation for the feast.
As soon as we dumped our bags we limped into town and immediatley asked a local where we should go to eat the famous meat. We followed the directions to an all you can eat buffet resturant called ´Ottos Tenedor Libre´. The meat was crap. I chewed for about 5 minutes before I could swallow. Disappointed the search continues.
Chris & Sam

Endurance Test Or Trip Of A Life Time?

Your alarm screeches through your eardrums waking you from the thirty minutes sleep you just managed to get after being woken by the drugged up maniac next door screaming hell as the effects of his last hit wear off. It´s 4am, and the hangover from last nights pisco sours is kicking in. You stuff your now destroyed rags into your rucksack, lug it onto your back to crawl up (always up) to the bus station.
Finding your seat, behind the chair stuck in recline the paranoia sets in that you are on the wrong bus and they are going to loose your luggage. The guy behind you sniffles and sneezes as you breathe in his germs and your next cold.
For the next twenty hours your bum goes through a whole new world of pain whilst the pungent stentch of farts and fumes drifts heavily up your nose. It´s almost possible to ignore the smell by concentrarting on your whailing bladder. Sleep is impossible. You arrive at your new destination in the middle of the night seemingly nowhere near the town centre, but it´s okay, your backpack is still on the roof of the bus. Feeling like hell you try to ask the screaming locals where you are, but all they want to tell you is where their cousins hostel is and which tour you should take.
Gather your patience and walk away. Following the Lonely Planet map you arrive at the recommended hostel that is supposed to have hot showers and comfy beds all for $5. Rubbish. This used to be true until one year ago it made it into the Lonely Planet, it now costs $20, the beds are wrecked and the water is like showering under steel nails. What the hell, you´re knackered, time to get ripped off. You hit the rock hard bed only to be woken up by slamming doors. Your eyes open to see the yellow stained pillow you have been sucking on for the last hour.
Wondering into to town to see where you have arrived, you fend off the pickpocket kids like flies. Finally smelling a food stall that looks clean you move towards it only to feel a massive gob of spit sliding slowly down the back of your neck. By now you should of given up and blown your budget on a five star hotel to get away from it all, but by now you are used to it. Wipe it off and walk away. Round the corner is a decent looking resturant, a tingle of relief washes over you as you sit back and order something which you think won´t kill you.
Your mind starts to slip and you remember the warmth of your mom and dads house, the smell of bacon sandwiches on a saturday morning, a walk in the country for a few lunch time beers, then back home to doze on the sofa watching the football. Then out later for a great night eating and drinking before sinking into your own clean, comfy bed.

BANG - back to reality - that mayonnaise seemed old. You idiot why didn´t you send it back! You sprint back to your insect ridden shared bathroom and vomit until your stomach is ready to snap. The next 24 hours you spend running to the toilet trying not to pass out with fever. It´s the worst food poisioning of your life.
WHY THE HELL AM I DOING THIS !?..........because for every two days like this you get countless days of mind blowing beauty. From the sun rising over the Bolivian salt flats, snowbaording the highest mountains, surfing the worlds most remote break, tubing through the mountains of Laos, riding on the dorsal fin of a dolphin, to seeing the smile a can of cola puts on four Cambodian childrens faces.
The feel of the sun on your back as you snorkle through crystal waters over coral bursting with colour and life. The sensation of jumping of a ledge into a canyon. The taste of the air on top of 6000 meter summit. Hearing the sound of local Polynesian rhythms as you and your new new best friends drink and laugh until your cheeks ache as the sky explodes into 1000 shades of orange above another unforgetable sunset. You forget all the bad things in the blink of an eye. You wouldn´t change this for the world, this is your trip of a lifetime.
Chris & Sam

Happy Birthday Sarah!!!!

Oh you know what I´m like, a bit scatty, and I was limping along this morning when I remembered "It´s Sarah´s Birthday this month!!!!!".
Sarah you are like a vintage wine. Every year I hope you might start looking your age but no, you get more youthful, beautiful and sparkly.
It would be ok if you were a cow, but to top if off you are kind, caring and a fantastic friend.
Happy birthday mate, I hope Jon, Amelie and Chip spoilt you.

Lots of love,

Sam & Chris

P.S. Will you allow me to play the panpippes at your next birthday? I´ve dropped the tin whistle, it was too limited for my musical talents.

The Dalai Lama & The Land Of Fok

Reading the Dalai Lamas words of wisdom (in his book Worlds in Harmony) is not having any effect on my patience and envy as I sit in Valle Nevado with a useless ankle.
Oh God I am sooooo jealous guys!!
Valle Nevado is probably the best ski field I have ever seen! There are several meters of pristine snow, the field is massive, and the pistes are wide and empty.
I´m sat writing this from the mountain restaurant breathing in the fresh air. The sun is blasting and conditions are perfect.
Most people here are from Brazil and trying out skiing for the first time, so there is no waiting for the lifts, and barely a soul on the pistes.
It is great to be sat up here watching but at the same time it is torture, it feels like being a kid that´s grounded and can see his friends playing outside his front door! (Mum - remember how much I used to hate that?).
The bright side is that I get to catch a face and hand tan, relax and look over this beautiful scene.
Chris has been riding alone all day, he has pretty much covered the 24 miles of piste, and has visited me twice for very brief breaks. His cheeks are flushed and he´s got excitement twinkling in his eyes. I know he is having a ball out there, and from time to time I see him catching air on the half pipe, or hurtling down the mountain switching from foot to foot.
Something did really make my day though. On the way to the field a Brazilian guy tried to make small talk with us. On realisation that we lived in England he said: "Ah, the land of fok! England is the land of fok isn´t it".
Chris and I burst out laughing, I had to apologise and ask him to say it again but he just kept saying "fok, fok, the land of fok!". At this point I was crying and couldn´t speak, eventually we managed to work out that what he meant to say was fog. They think the whole of "Inglan" is perpetually covered in fog. Very funny moment.
So that´s all for now from Sam to all of you at the land of Fok.

Sx

P.S. Portuguese is meant to be similar to spanish (so my brother tells me) but to me it sounds like a mixture between German, Russian and Vietnamese. Strange!

Snowboarding For The Weekend

We are back in Santiago for the weekend, and I can´t miss an oppurtunity to hit the slopes for three days at Valle Nevado (pictured above & below) in the Chilean Andes before we head into Argentina. Once in Argentina we will hit Mendoza vineyards, then race down to Barriloche to spend a few weeks snowboarding at Cerro Catedral. We have a lodge at the base of the slopes booked for 8 days, then we move to the slighly cheaper Barriloche which is a 15 minute drive from the slopes. If we have it my way we will stay till the snow melts.

P.S Looks like they are getting fresh snow tonight, so another sleepless night due to excitement.

Cheap Airlines In Chile

Sky Airlines is the name of the budget airline in Chile. The concept here is a little different to at home. We flew from the North of Chile 2085km south to Santiago. The concept is that of a public bus. The plane stops 3 times at Iquique, Copiapo, and finally Santiago. We wait on the plane while people get on and off. Bizarre. 3 take offs, 3 landings, and a technical problem in a 2 hour trip!

Clean Bones & Night Time Toads

Sams X-ray of her ankle
Arriving back in Chile I thought best to take Sam to Hostpital to make sure she hadn´t broken her ankle. Also to try and get rid the skin disease she has picked up so we can start sleeping in the same room again.
We expected to wait four days as we would of in England, but within 45 minutes she had a consultation, X-Ray, second consultation, and drugs prescribed. As you can see from above her ankle is perfectly formed with no fractures or breaks, just badly torn ligaments. She has cream and antibiotics for the toad skin she develops at night (Hives)

This is a photo of someone with Hives, her whole body looks like this at 3am at night. Ewwwwww
Laters
Chris

1970s Border Crossing

The Colca Caynon Trip marked the end of our Northern Chile, Bolivia, Peru loop. It was time to head back into Northern Chile. We caught an easy 7 hour bus from Ariquipa (Peru) down to Tacna on the Peru/Chile Border. Getting off the bus we engaged in the typical shouting and arguing with locals about how we were going to cross the border, why we were crossing the border, and how much it was going to cost to cross the border.
After 15 minutes of hair pulling, scratching, spitting, tug of war with backpacks etc we agreed to go with the sleezy fat guy sweating through his see-thru string vest. Pleased to see that his slightly less greasy friend was going to take us we got into to awesome, huge American car from the 1970s (i think), and crossed the border listening to Buddy Holly, Elvis, and other American classics. Not quite a cool as the Bolivia Border, but pretty dam close.
Its funny how around the world you find wierd little pockets of culture where you wouldn´t expect it. We weren´t the only people crossing in a big American car, every car that crosses the border here is the same, and all the drivers pump out old classic from the stereo. For the 30 km between Tacna (Peru) & Arica (Chile) everycar is the same and it feels like you could be driving down Route 66 in 1973. They drop you off in Arica and suddenly they are gone, you never see another car the same. Bizarre.

COLCA CANYON Day 3. Hot Springs

Day 3 was easy. We were taken to a hot spring pool, but it was a hot day so people looked a bit like they were going to pass out when they got out.
Then we had lunch, and sat on a crowded smelly bus back to Arequipa (home) for over 4 hours on unsealed roads.
And that, was the Colca Canyon trip.

The End

COLCA CANYON Day 2. A Mule Called Kinky

The next morning I was relieved to learn that my guide had found me a mule for the day, so after breakfast I met my companion who was called Quinquilla, Kinky for short.
The 1st leg of the day consisted of a small descent, a hard ascent and a long descent to our lunch spot. It was baking hot and as Kinky and I plodded along ahead of the group. I saw the bright side of my injury, for those on foot it would be a hard slog.
Kinky was being guided by a rope being held by a short Peruvian called Rusevelt (sound like anyone famous?).

To start it was easy but have you ever ridden a mule down hill? Well, it was pretty hairy. Kinky kept slipping luckily making recoveries with the extra pair of legs, but the pathway was narrow even for humans, and at one side was certain death down the canyon. So every time Kinky slipped he´d get scared and stop, needing a little tug of encouragement from Rusevelt to go on.
Olivia (our guide) had told us the day before that the condors were hanging around because a mule had fallen down the canyon, and they were feeding on its carcass...I daren’t ask if there was a tourist sat on it at the time!
The other thing about Kinky was that he had the personality of a teenager. He huffed when he couldn’t be bothered and he´d try to take easier paths when we got to cross roads.

Two and a half hours and a very sore bum later we got to the Oasis, our lunch stop. We were well ahead of the group and I toyed with the idea of asking them "what took you so long?", but the flushed faces and sweaty t-shirts told me to bite my tongue.
They had a well deserved swim in the pool and a hearty lunch which restored them to a normal skin tone.
For the afternoon Heather and Adam had the excellent idea of booking mules to get them out of the canyon, the rest of the group signed up for it too which meant that all seven of us would ride out of the canyon together. Well...not quite.
When the mules arived for the other five it became clear that Kinky and his brother were more donkeys than mules in comparison. Kinky was much smaller than the rest, and Chris would be riding his even smaller brother Peluche (Stuffed Toy).
The four of us plus Rusevelt went ahead but it wasn’t long before the rest of the group overtook us. What started out being fun soon became unenjoyable to Chris and I. The sun was pounding on the mules, the path was super steep, mostly rocks that acted as steps. The poor beasts started sweating buckets. You could feel their hearts pumping hard and fast beneath you, the huffs and breaks became more and more frequent.

I had no option, but Chris offered to get off and carry Peluche though Olivia and Rusevelt insisted he stay on.
Well over 3 hours later we made it to our hotel in Cabanaconde, with our bums in agony and our minds filled with guilt and pity for the donkeys.
Chris had a shower and I had such a sore bum that I led on my front with it exposed. When Chris came out of the shower and saw it he shouted "Oh my God!! What on Earth was that Donkey doing to you?!". My bottom was COVERED with huge blisters and friction burns. Not only could I not stand but neither could I sit!
I skipped dinner and stayed in bed, went to sleep but then at 3am I woke up itching, a lot! I turned the lights on and Chris said “Oh my God! What is THAT?” I was now also covered with what looked like a thousand bites all over my body.
All I remember thinking at this point was “I´m A Celebrity Get Me Out Of HERE!!!!!!”

COLCA CANYON Day 1. Worlds Strongest Man

Snap, Crackle and Pop! I felt the ligaments rip and heard the cartilage grind as my ankle buckled underneath me. I was half way down the dirt path leading us to the bottom of the deepest Canyon in the World. The pain was excruciating...

A bit of a challenge, some fitness and something different, that´s why I signed us up for the 3 day trek in the Colca Canyon, Peru.
As luck had it our group was made up of a lovely couple called Stewart and Amy, a gregarious medical student called Adam, a smiley sunny phisio called Heather, and a kind Aussie called Daniel. We bonded instantly and I knew we´d be in for a fun three days with them.

We´d started walking from a little village called Cabanaconde. The sky was bright blue, the condors flew close in a magnific display of aerobatics, and the view of the 3,500 meter deep canyon before us was breath-taking.
I was having a fab time chatting away as we descended the rubbly path when CRUNCH!!
End of fun. I´d slipped and bent my foot inwards, the pain was unbearable and I couldn´t stand up. I knew that whatever I had done I wouldn´t be able to walk out of the rest of the canyon myself, there was about 1600meters of vertical path left to get to the bottom, and then we´d have to ascent at the other side to get to our camp.
Having a medical student and a phisio with us meant that I was professionally bandaged and drugged quicker than you could say "torn ligaments".
I tried hoping but that was pretty dangerous, so our guides tried convincing some locals to rent us a mule to get me to our cabins in San Juan, but it was getting late and nobody could be bothered.
But then...Oh wait a minute..Is it a cloud? Is it a plane? No, it´s SuperChris!!!
My amazing husband piggybacked me for over two hours solid all the way to the bottom of the canyon then up the otherside, what a hero!
By the time we got to our cabins he had a bruised back and I had a bruised chest, but we made it, and a candle lit dinner awaited us under a sky bursting with stars.

But what would happen the next day? How would I get out of the 3 and a half kilometer deep Canyon?...

Colca Canyon

Off treking again into the deepest Canyon in the world. Sam kindly gave me one days rest and booked me on it whilst I was away. Up at 5am in the morning to leave for 3 days, so no blog updates until we get back on Wednesday.
Over and Out
Sam & Chris

CHACHANI

Trying to sleep with your face jammed between the arse cheeks of a sumo wrestler. Your head is being crushed and you can´t breathe. That is what it felt like the night I climbed Chachani.
We arrived at base camp (5325m) earlier that afternoon. The guides had been telling us a few stats on the way up, such that 60% don´t make it to the top, and a story about the last trip when only one of a team of five Italians made it to the top.
From the short walk to base camp it became clear that it wasn´t just going to be difficult, there was a chance I wouldn´t be able to make it.
We were told to pitch our tents then do nothing but rest until 1:30am in the morning when the guides would wake us up with a cup of ´mate de coca´ and bread. So at 2pm on Wednesday I got into my sleeping bag with 7 layers of clothes on, my hat and gloves. This is when my head began to hurt, I had felt a milder version of this pain in Bolivia but this was on a different level. It´s just your body adjusting to the lack of oxygen (less than 1/2 that of sea level) and pressure, but it´s excruciating. It´s impossible to concentrate on reading and there is no chance of sleep. By the time it went dark I was going crazy with boredom and pain. The biggest mistake of the trip was not having a watch, I started to get a little obsessed with time. The Italian guy I was sharing a tent with probably thought I was crazy because I found it better to sit up, breathe deeply, and press my thumbs into my temples. However i think he was having a worse time with his stomach pains and groaning. Time dragged by slowly and I became desperate to start the climb. Certain that It would soon be time to leave I got dressed, packed my bag, sat on a rock and waited amusing myself with the camera.. For some reason it felt easier to breathe outside. I waited for what must of been one hour, eventually the guides came round with tea and told us it was 2:30am. We were leaving late because the wind was so strong and the temperature would be -20 on the traverses.
At 3am my headache had gone and our group was ready to leave. There was seven in the group and two guides. Ten minutes later the first person, an English girl dropped out.
We worked our way in a zig zag between and over large rocks. Amazingly I wasn´t tired and started to enjoy it. We reached the top of the first pass where we put on our tampons to walk across the ice. We are at 5500 meters and the second person, an English guy on a mountaineering holiday drops out. We start the first traverse around the Angel peak over a sheet of ice. It´s pitch black, just a small amount of light from a John Helm head torch lights up the steep drop to the left of my feet and the small ice crevases beneath them. The tampons are good but it´s tough work digging the ice axe in every few steps although it´s wicked fun. It felt like I was on an expedition across the Artic. It was bitterly cold, my fingers and toes went numb, but my ridiculous beard is finally worth while. I realised later from looking back at the photos that my lips had also started bleeding as I had blood across my teeth.
Soon the next guy, an Italian drops out, this time one of the guides has to leave with him. It takes two hours to traverse across the ice, as we take off our tampoms and ascend the Fatima peak to 5800 meters the sun begins to rise. This is when it really starts to hurt. It feels like there is no air to breathe, ten small steps and your finished, you stop to regain it but the deep breaths make you dizzy.

At one point we rested and I managed to sleep for 5 minutes. Everyone is totally exusted. Nobody is speaking, just glancing looks of pain, and yells of exhaustion. For the next four hours we climb towards to summit of Chachani. I occasionally had bursts of energy and at one point I raced ahead thinking I was going to beat our guide Roy to the top, but soon realised I had gone the wrong way.
After seven hours, and seven fake summits (you think you have made it then another summit appears) we made it to the top, 6090 meters. For two minutes we all went crazy using the last of the energy we had, we were even treated to a volcanic explosion in the distance. The view was incredible and the feeling of height unreal.
Then it hits me...... I have to get back down! This was probably the worst bit having lost all my motivation. To make it worse it wasn´t downhill all the way. The tiredness hit me big time and I really began to struggle. My headache came back and I couldn´t walk straight, which became very dangerous on the ice traverses. People began to fall over and at times I just lay on the ice dreaming of a helicopter. The walk home was silent and took me 3 hours. It felt like you had just run a marathon, with nobody at the end to meet you so you had to walk for three hours back home. It was without a doubt the hardest thing I have done in my life. Not just the climb but the night waiting to leave. It feels great to have pushed myself hard after nine months of nothing too challenging, and soon enough it will sink in that I climbed to 6090 meters. 1.3km higher than Mount Blanc, 195 meters higher than Mount Kilimanjaro. I am glad I´ve done it, it´s another tick in the box of life, but I can assure you I will never do it again. I am just sticking to mountains with chair lifts and half pipes from now on.

Happy Birthday Nan Packet

Happy birthday nan, we hope you have a great day and are looking forward to spending some time with you when we get back.

Lots of love,

Chris and Sam

Beauty School Drop Out

Q. What´s orange, crispy and snaps quicker than a croc?
A. My hair!!

9 months of extreme sun and snow abuse have done irreversible damage to it, it´s so brittle that one brush with my ponytail could scratch you to pieces, it has become a lethal weapon which could be used against spitting old ladies.

But I was meandering around the streets of Arequipa when my nostrils detected a potent cocktail of perming lotion and peroxide. I sniffed my way towards the toxic aroma to find the source a couple of blocks down, ¨Peluqueria Maria¨(Maria Hairdressing Salon).
I walked thru the nicotine coloured glass doors, and barely had enough time to inspect discoloured posters of 80s dos when Maria herself approached me.
Now, I tower over most peruvian women, but Maria could beat me to a pulp in a street fight. She is tall, heavy set, her long brown hair frames a larger than average face with prominent features, and her hands are made even larger by tacky false acrylic nails.
She indicates for me to take a seat on the bottle green velvet couch with a king size wave, and as she turns I notice that the zip on her tight tan trousers is busted, but Maria doesn´t seem to care and she lowers herself onto the sofa with the feminine elegance of a ballerina.
She turns her body towards me, crosses her legs and sexily rests one arm on the back of the sofa, and then...AHA! Out comes the unmistakeably masculine voice. It´s confirmed, shecould beat me up in a streetfight, because Maria has balls!!
As she´s selling me a deep conditioner and a cut for 6 pounds I look around the salon which seems to be stuck in a time wharp. An elderly lady with about a thousand rollers on her head, is watching Christina Aguileras´¨Dirty¨ video on the TV set with a sour look in her face (she looks like an alien, the old lady that is).
I´m in a trance (must be the fumes), before I know it I´ve signed my rights away by plonking myself at a basin that´s at least a foot too low for me, the pain in my neck is indicative of what´s to come.
As predicted Maria doesn´t even glance at the picture of the style I have chosen, she just snips away humming in a low growly voice reminiscent of Marge Sympson with a pair of scissors meant for crafts. Before I can work out what she has done she´s whipped my hair in a french pleat for free, how sweet....NO! How DUMB am I?!
Once I´ve been in the open hair for a while and the spell of the hair products has worn off, I feel brave enough to examine her creation.
The verdict, well my hair is softer but I now have a shocking haircut and Chris could have done better.
The blessing is, at least I didn´t ask for a perm! Roll on Argentina.

Climbing Chachani Tomorrow

It´s all set, I am starting to climb Chachani tomorrow (Tuesday). I am going with an Italian guy, and the guide. We get picked up at 8:30am in the morning, and drive to the Volcano, we then walk until we reach base camp which is at 5325 meters and put up our tent. We have some food and then try to relax. Apparently it is impossible to sleep because of the cold. Between midnight and 3am on Wednesday morning we will start the final 7 hour climb to the 6090 meter summit (i thought it was 6075m, but apparently not). There are four big traverses where we will be using crampons, and the ice axes. You can´t carry much except for water (5 litres), but I´ll take the camera and try and get some shots of me at the top, although most electrical stuff doesn´t seem to work at altitude (My ipod hasn´t worked since Santiago). I´ve been given some ridiculous clothes to wear, and a pair of walking boots that look like school shoes.
I´ve heard from a few who have tried it that it´s the hardest thing they have ever done, physically and mentally. I´ll give it my best shot, but I reckon its going to be a wicked experience trying to make it to the top.
Laters
Chris

Anything To Do With You Sis?

This is the name of the bar near our hostel. My sisters name is Ruth so it made us laugh.

Arequipa & The Volcano I´m here to Climb.

We rumbled into another amazing Peru town today called Arequipa, the town is a wash with white volcanic rock (sillar) buildings. The locals believe that when the moon split from the earth it forgot to take Arequipa with it.
Amazingly we accidently timed our arrival with Arequipa day, which is a huge festival which takes place once a year. All the surrounding towns parade, dance and sing through the streets leading donkeys which carry wood to later be burned in a huge fire at the main Plaza. Above is a photo of the carnival in the Plaza, and below another shot of the stunning Cathedral. If you look closely just to the left of the left tower of the Cathedral in the picture below you can see the peak of the 6075 meter snowcapped Chichani volcano. I am booked to climb it on Wednesday. Although it seems there is only me in Arequipa who wants to do it at the moment, so I have to wait for another 2 or more people to join the group otherwise we cant go. Where is Harry when you need him. I will spend a night sleeping on the mountain in a tent at 5300 meters then awake at 3am to complete the 7 hour climb to the summit. We will be wearing crampons, and using ice picks. But carrying NO oxygen. NARLY!!
Laters
Chris

Machu Picchu

Getting up at 4am to look at some ruins didn´t seem like the best idea as we made our way to San Pedro station. The streets were dark, and full of scary drugged up tourists looking mega alert, and as we sat in the station waiting room a fight broke out and the security guard had to chuck a guy out (at least I assume he was the security guard, he had a puffer jacket that said ¨Follow Da Lider¨on the back!).
3 and a half hours later we arrive at the train stop in Aguas Calientes, we dash through the millions of street sellers trying to convince us we want dolls or finger puppets, and finally reach the bus that´ll take us to Machu Picchu. I´m slightly surprised to see that all the buses are Mercs but then I didn´t know how much the entry fee was going to be at that point!
Deep in my heart I was worried that the lost city of the Inca´s would be a dissappointment, or that it would end up feeling like Angkor Watt, but it couldn´t have been further from that.
Even before we arrived I caught a glimpse of what for me was the best bit about Machu Picchu, the giant emmeral green mountains that shoot up into the sky and impose over the ruins. For me it was the setting, it was so breathtaking being up there that it made you feel that living there would have been magical. It was unreal!
Walking around was great, but the best bit came at the end of the day when the tourists started dwindling and we sat on the grass looking out and enjoying the silence, it was peaceful and made you smile.
I can´t believe that a young american who went to Yale stumbled accross it, you could just picture Hiram Bingham rambling around the mountains on his mule and coming to a cleariing to find this!!!!

Chris walked around with a faint grin after discovering that it´s thought that 75% of the inhabitants were female, and in particular perfectly formed virgins. He said he imagined they all walked around naked with flowers in their hair looking beautiful. I told him that I couldn´t see much water around so they were probably all smelly, and that I doubted many of them were virgins (the few men would have had a bomb there!!).
Machu Picchu is definitively one of the 7 wonders of the World and deservedly so.

Inca Museum ZZZZzzzzzzzzz (Updated)

If you are anything like me, even just reading that title with the word museum in it bored you more than the M4 Junction 8-9 on a Monday morning .
Unless the museum has flashing lights, audio, lasers, moving things, and stuff you can touch and usually break (Sam says that sounds like a babies mobile!) then I´m throughly bored.
Let me introduce you to the WORST museum on the planet, Cuzcos Inca Museum.
Tomorrow we go to the 7th wonder of the world, the Inca ruins of Machu Picchu. We thought that before we go we should learn a little about the guys who built it. We located the museum (44) on the Lonely Planet map, and pushed past the Llamas selling photos of thier owners, to pay an extortionate 10 Soles (2 pounds) entry fee. We then spent 1 hour looking at pots, stones, dirty clothes, empty cabinets, really bad paintings, useless descriptions that didn´t match the items and all in a totally random order. We left the museum having learnt nothing much about Incas or Machu Picchu, except that they grew corn and potatoes (4000 types of), the Spanish were gits but built good churches, and the Incas were very very good at carving the male, female, and llama genitalia.
If you are coming to Cusco do yourself a favour, find a nice bar, order a Cusqueña and read the Lonely Planet section on Machu Picchu. Even though by now after nine months you probably hate the dam Lying Planet, but ofcourse you couldn´t possibly survive without it. My PRECIOUSSsssssssss.
Chris

Happy Birthday Helen!!!!

To the beautiful and talented Helen, hope you have a really fun day and a brilliant year and we´ll be thinking of you.

Lots of love,

Sam and Chris xx

Next Time You Buy Anything In A Shop.....

...spare a thought for everybody shopping in South America. They have the most frustrating shopping system. Let me explain so that you can feel our pain....
Using the toothpaste I bought yesterday as an example, however, this is not limited to toothpaste, it applies to all types of shops and all different items, e.g. headphones, pants, food, books....everything.

You need to by some toothpaste, so you find the counter in the shop where the Colgate is displayed. You queue in line awaiting your turn to get to the shop assistant who 'controls' the toothpaste section. Its your turn now, so you ask for some toothpaste "Me gustaria colgate por favour". Said assistant gets the toothpaste and gives it to you to hold for 2 seconds and asks if you really want it. You do, so you reply "Si, Quiero". You get out the money to pay,...... but WAIT , the assistant grabs the tube of colgate back off you and hands you a ticket, pointing towards another long queue of people at a seperate cash desk counter.
You and your ticket now have to queue to pay. 5 minutes later, its your turn, you hand over your 4 soles, and she hands you a printed reciept. BUT WHERE IS MY FRIGGIN TOOTHPASTE!! She points you to ANOTHER queue where a woman awaits behind a bullet proof sheild, appartently guarding your toothpaste from armed robbers. But its OK I can now see the colgate, it's on a shelf behind her. 5 minutes later and its your turn, you hand over your printed reciept, which she inspects like it is your passport, she looks you up and down, you nervously smile as you do at immigration control. She finally hands you your GOD DAM toothpaste.
With all the relief in the world that the trauma is over you step out of the shop to get harrased by a old lady selling llama products, she smiles at you revealing her one remaining tooth. It all now makes sense why they have no teeth, its not that they can't afford toothpaste its just that they can't be FRIKKIN ARSED!!!!

Anyway, glad to get it off my chest. So next time you are in Boots rushed on your lunch break, stood queuing behind a dithering fool paying by cheque for deoderant think of us overhere, smile, laugh to yourself and love the country you live in, because in England atleast you only have to queue ONCE!

Chris

Sam Is Better

Sam has recovered from whatever crazy disese she picked up, although I am still concerned for her health as last night she uttered the words "No I dont feel like a glass of wine, I'll have a Fanta instead".
Over
Chris

Cusco

Managed to wheel Sam onto a bus this morning, and now we have arrived in Cusco. Not sure how ill she really is or whether she has just realised that she gets to stay in really expensive hotels when she is ill without me whinging on about the budget. She is shacked up watching videos in bed at the moment, however I do plan to drag her out for some food in 30 minutes.
OK boring blog entry.... will make it quick. Cusco rocks! Can´t believe more people didn´t tell us what an amazing place it was! We just thought it would be a regular Peruvian town that was full of half built houses, dogs, dog poo, rubbish. It is a maze of narrow cobbled streets, amazing white washed houses that have a spanish influence, really really grand churches in gigantic plaza´s. Plus obviously some wicked bars and resturants. Sam hasn´t failed to notice that the shopping looks pretty hot aswell. Anyone who comes to South America has to come here for a week. Will take the camera out tomorrow and post some photos so you can see what I mean.
Anyway a sausage dog has just arrived at my feet and is licking my knee. Must go.
Chris

What A Difference A Year Makes

So do you reckon we look better for a year of marriage or worse?
1 Year ago:

Now:


Same people (?) different transport:
Then:

Now:

3 Wrong Days...

6 hours into a 3 hour bus journey and we arrive in the crazy streets of Copacabana, on the shores of Lake Titicaca (boobpoo). The Bolivians are celebrating independance day, its caos, the streets are rammed with screaming market stall owners, and Bolivians who have made the trek to spend the weekend here.
To celebrate they scream, shout, get very drunk, hit drums and buy more dead llama foetus to bless thier cars with. Yep....to celebrate 151 years of Bolivian Independance they worship their Hyundais, Toyotas, and Mitsubishis. It´s hilarious, they jump up and down on them, beep the horns, and cover them in flowers and paper decorations etc..
We check into our hostel and get told for the 12th time that we are going to get mugged. Apparently all the Peruvians & Bolivian thieves have come here for the weekend.
So out we go into the bonkers town to find lunch. Two minutes down the road and a great BIG greeny gets spat on my neck from behind. I instantly recognise it as a scam where someone should now run up to me, try to wipe it off for me whilst picking my pocket. (Ok people stop laughing now). Before this happens you are supposed to run away and wipe it off when you are alone. So naturally like any grown man I stand still, close my eyes and hold onto my wallet. Nothing. No Bolivian. No Thief......I slowly open my eyes to see a 3 foot high crouched over old lady tottering away as fast as she can with my Spanish wife hot on her heels hollering the most obscene insults in Spanish that I could never print on the internet. Lucky for the old lady she escaped a royal kicking from Sam and dissapeared into the crowd, whilst Sam came over to me a wiped an apparent massive load of gob off my neck. Sam had been behind me and seen it all. For those of you that have heard the Barcelona mugging story, yes...you remember correctly, this is now the 2nd time my wife has fended off my muggers!
2 minutes later and we are laughing about it over a beer. The rest of the day is great, we chill out over looking the lake and have a good night out with two cool guys we met.
Next morning. It´s our wedding anniversary. We plan to spend a romantic day on the Isla De Sol, the birth place of the sun (according to the Inkas), then later out for a posh meal. OH CONTRA MUCHACHO! For the first time in 9 months we find ourselves without cash. There is no ATM and the bank is closed due to fiesta for 2 days. We are screwed, we don´t have enough cash to get the bus out of here, we don´t have any money for tonights accomadation or food. Balls!
Our only escape relies on us getting a refund for our Isle de Sol boat tickets. Begin begging. Nothing. Nada. Squat. The guy won´t budge. Our lives are over... but hey atleast we know a good spitting scam.
One last try and the tourist operator finally agrees to swap the boat ticket for a bus ticket out of Bolivia to Peru where they have ATMs.
So it´s 6pm on our wedding anniversary and we are 5 hours into a 3 hour bus journey. We arrive in Puno, Peru, withdraw some cash, and check into a smart hotel.
Getting ready for our night out Sam suddenly feels sick, feverish and sweaty....all the symptons of realisation that she has been married to me for a year.
We spend the night in watching TV, order room service and reserve the room for another night.
We are supposed to be going to Cuzco to do a trek to Machu Picchu, but Sam has been struggling for 2 weeks now on and off with Altitude sickness, so it looks like we may have to take her back down to the beach soon. For the moment though we are chilling in our posh hotel room watching TV for the first time in months. I saw my 1st F1 Grand Prix of the season (Get In Button!) and watched the Boca Juniors Fottball match. I´m happy.
Chris

La Paz

The bus ride here wasn't smooth. The road was dirt track for about 6 hours, and sleeping wasn't really possible, but eventually the fumes we breathed in while waiting for the bus kicked in and we slept until we woke up to the roar of another crazy city, Bolivias capital.
On first sight we though it was a standard South American city, thousands of minibus taxis, screaming men children and women, rubbish piled up in the street, horns beeping insanely etc.........until the bus pulled round a corner and below us in a gigantic mountain valley was La Paz. Sprawled out infront of a stunning backdrop of 6500 meter high snow covered mountains, it looked incredible as the sun was rising. The cliffs of the valley are huge, but every piece of land is built on. From the cobbled streets packed arse to elbow with market stalls selling dead llama feotus' you look up and see the city stretching out above you, houses and flats literally hang over the edge of the cliffs.
It's difficult to breathe so high up, especially when the city is full of hills, but you can't help but feel alive here. Bolivia is easily ranking so far as my favourite country.
Sorry - no pictures, it's impossible to capture. No even worth trying. I looked on Google to see if anyone had managed to take a photo that came anywhere near to what it looks like, and as yet, nobody has managed.

Uyuni Town

We are currently in Uyuni town which is where all the Salt Lake trips end, apart from that it isn´t a very touristy place.
It´s very alive and vibrant during the day when hundreds of market stalls are open, and there´s tradicional music at each corner. It is increadibly colourful, and the traditional dress is still worn by the mayority of women here.
We have so far found it to be a very tranquil place, and we quite like the Bolivian pace of life (i.e. very chilled out - good as we are at 3660 meters).
A couple of oddities have happenned. Chris and a new spanish friend set off down the wrong street and where jumped on my the military. It frightened the life out of them!
Then last night we thought the town was haunted. We were fast asleep when at about 2am we heard very very loud drumming in the street, then a trumpet, then a trombone, then a whole band procesioned outside our hotel. I peeked through the window and apart from the band there was nobody watching them. It was very eerie to see empty streets with this ghostly band playing at full volume.
I had to ask at breakfast. The explanation "It´s independence day soon and the band was practicing". I restrained from asking why the devil they do it at 2am because to them it seemed like the most logical thing in the World.
To top it off I was sat having a cup of tea in an outdoor cafe when a local dog sneeked up behind me and peed on my trouser leg. Nice!
Anyway, after a day at the market buying hairbands for Chris we are off to La Paz tonight. Another 11 hour bus journey awaits, except this time the level of comfort is lower and there are no toilets on board - wish us luck.

Giant Bottles and Dwarf Cars

Apart from the spiritual side of the Salar, there is obviously the fun part.
The Lake has no perspective at all, objects in the distance could be hundreds of kilometers away or really close.


We found a large bottle of suncream, shame we didn´t use it!



This jeep was a bit tight with 8 people:


After a year of marriage Chris had finally worn Sam down:

The big hairy yetti attacks at random on the Salar:

Salar de Uyuni - HEAVEN on Earth

Sunrise:

120k by 200k of pure white shimmering salt, barely a thing on the horizon but bright blue spotless sky. This is my number 1, this is the most stunning thing I have ever seen, and it looks & sounds like....absolute nothingness.
Nothingness:

The salt glistens like snow, and the little island we spot in the middle feels like a mirage, but it is real, and it´s called Fish Island.
Fish Island:

This little island covered in over 1000 year old cacti is yet again very surreal, and having lunch there looking out to the salt lake is an amazing feeling.
In the afternoon we head deeper into the nothingness where I lie on my back, with the sun on my face, and feel the most relaxed I will probably feel in my whole life.
Trying to describe how this place looks and feels is impossible, no photos will do its inmensity justice, so I will simply say...it looks like heaven.

P.S. Just wish I´d remembered to put suntan lotion on my face!

Salt Hotel

The 2nd night we sleep at a wimpish 3600 meters in a wicked place called the Hotel de Sal. From the walls and candle holders, to the beds, everything is made of salt. It´s an awesome place, we get a massive dinner then sit in candle light until we all hit our beds at 8.30pm for one of the best nights sleep anyones has had for weeks.

P.S No Sam didn´t miss the one about asking the cook if they had any salt for our dinner. The cooks face was hilarious.

Rock Trees, Geysers and Volcanos

We stumbled into a Dali painting on our trip:

And Chris couldn´t help climb all over it:
And then landed on the moon: (this is flowing lava)

Sleeping at 4500 meters

Up here you can´t breathe, you spin everytime you stand up. Your head feels like it is about to implode, and there is jack you can do about it. You no longer dare to chew as much coca leaves as you can fit in your mouth as you will soon need to sleep, and the leaves just keep you wide awake.
We are offered some wine but a sip proves to be deadly. The ten layers of clothes (no joke) restricts your movement so much that moving your arm tires you as much as running 2kms.
We are staying in a shack in the middle of the desert at 4500 meters above sea level. Mont Blanc is 4800 meters. It´s minus 20 and the beds are hell. All of us were stupid to think we would sleep a wink.
In bed we all lye in our clothes and paranoia sets in that you can´t get enough oxygen, as up here you are out of breath even lying still. Its a long night, but we all manage to laugh about it over coffee and the first round of coca in the morning.
Its all good practice for when we climb to 6060 meters in Peru in a few weeks time. With that trek you have to sleep at 5000 meters on the mountain in a tent!
WOOOHOO.

Crimson Waters and Flaming Flamingos

Nestled between arid desert and dusty mountains that look like a surreal Dali paintings are the most fabulous lagoons , they are also so alien that they look like they don´t belong on this planet.

The minerals interact with the sun and wind to create technicolour water that you might imagine in sci-fi films. These are the 3 that had the most impact on us over the 3 day journey.

Laguna Verde: A deep touquise green, that´s milky and minty and makes you want to stick a straw in it and drink it.


Laguna Colorada: The second most stunning thing I have seen, ever! In the morning it looks like a normal lagoon, by lunch time it begins to take on a warm orange hue. By late afternoon it´s a hot fiery crimson. The lagoon alone is breath-taking, but it becomes even so when the flamboyant flamingoes dot themselves around it.

Laguna Hionda: We stopped here to have lunch on the 2nd day, its clarity reflects the imposing volcanos around it. Without a doubt a top spot to picnic and watch flamingoes stretch their wings in the sun.