A Year In Motion

We had completed day 1 of our three day road trip into the Andes, and given our experience in the Himalayas, we knew that it would probably be a case of “no pain, no gain”. We had gained the surreal Salar de Uyuni earlier that day, how much pain was waiting at our overnight stop in the middle of the remote Bolivian Andes.

We arrived just before dark in a small settlement which was home to a few basic shelters for the passing tour groups. Due to Grover’s conservative driving, we were one of the last to arrive and had the last choice of rooms. We had expected the worst but didn’t quite get it, which left us with the mixed feelings of being relatively content (less for Ninfa) at our worst accommodation so far in South America, sharing a room with Simone and a toilet and cold water shower in a separate building with the other 20 or 30 people at the shelter. Dinner was edible, some soup and fries, but mainly memorable only for a bottle of wine we had brought, and the chance to get to know our group better. I had a word with Grover though asking him to make sure we left early the next day as we didn’t want to arrive last at our accommodation the next day in order to have a better choice.

The following morning, we were the last people to leave the shelter. Fortunately, Ninfa and I had stacked up on plenty of cookies, chips and energy bars in a La Paz supermarket, as I think no-one ate any of the included breakfast, in particular because the scrambled eggs were served with only one plate and one fork – for 6 people! Disgusting!

A few hours of driving later, we arrived at a lagoon, our first stop of the day. It was quite cloudy, but there were some flamingos hanging around, the first ones we had seen. We continued on, happily not losing time like one of the other jeeps stuck in the sand as they had driven too close to the lake shore. The driver told us he didn’t need any help though, so on we went. Our next stop was another lagoon. The weather had cleared up beautifully and as we rounded the crest of a hill, a spectacular sight of 5,000m+ mountains and plains extended all around the salty lagoon which lay ahead of us. I suggested we stroll down to the lakeside as we would stop for lunch there. As it turned out, it was more than a stroll as it turned out to be around 2km down – distances can be deceiving at altitude, but I thoroughly enjoyed the crisp, thin air and the wonderful scenery. We had a cold lunch of grilled meat, some salad and pasta (no sauce) before leaving the lagoon and heading off into a mountain desert. This was probably one of my favourite moments of the road trip, driving through the smooth red plains with the snow-peaked mountains far off in the distance. I was a little annoyed however that the jeeps seem to create a new road for every vehicle and I imagine this is little helping the preservation of a unique environment. Bolivian tour drivers are not known for their responsibility.

We stopped at another lagoon (there’s a lot of them, but each one different in many ways) where there were thousands of flamingos feeding in the centre of the lake, albeit far away from shore. But they cast a perfect reflection on the smooth water under the shadow of a snow-peaked volcano. We continued on to more desert, but of a different kind, this time with a spread of large rock formations dotting its surface. The highlight is one rock, the Tree of Stone, which has been eroded over millennia by particles of sand in the wind into a smooth and you could possibly say tree-like shape. Having not received any time guidance from Grover, myself and Simone went off exploring the other rocks for a bit of climbing. When I got back a while later, Grover was growing impatient and I had to run so that he wouldn’t leave without me. Simone wasn’t back though, which was the cue for Grover to lose the plot, and start ranting to us about our lack of punctuality. He revved the engine and skidded off with his hand glued to the horn leaving Simone behind, before turning back and leaving Simone to run through the hailstone shower to climb in. We thought Grover’s flare-up was very out of character and overstepping the limit of his role to be honest, but we all telepathically agreed to put it to one side and enjoy the rest of the journey rather than having tension in the air.

Our final stop of the day was the Laguna Colorado, which is so named due to a mineral which exists in the water which turns the entire lake a shade of orangey red. It looks beautiful in the sunlight (at least in the brochures) but it was raining when we got there, but we appreciated what there was, well at least for the 15 minutes Grover accorded us. There were still 2 or 3 hours of daylight left when we rolled into our accommodation for the night about 10km past the lagoon. Now we were all wondering, what was the big rush to get to our crappy accommodation three hours before sundown? We passed the afternoon playing silly games and having a few beers – at least we had a fun group – before retiring to our dormitory where we had a chilly night’s sleep in a draughty room. It must have been little more than freezing, and I can’t imagine what it must be like to spend a night here during the Bolivian winter. Not to worry as we were getting up for a 4:30am departure the following morning to see sunrise at the geysers before getting our bus connection to San Pedro de Atacama in Chile.

The shelter was abuzz from 4:00am and we were all ready to go as planned at 4:30am, except for one thing – where was Grover? I asked a driver, who cheekily told me he was probably relaxing. I continued my search and found him 15 minutes later chatting with one of the staff in the kitchen. I was feeling that Grover was turning out to be more than a little hypocritical given his time tantrum the previous day and told him to get a move on. While waiting for him to load the bags at 5am, Simone and I noticed that Grover was having a little difficulty getting on the roof of the jeep, in fact walking even, and as it turned out, talking even. He was completely drunk. I confronted him and told him he was drunk, to which he slurred that he had been drunk, but wasn’t drunk anymore. Now, we were in a dilemma. All the cars, bar one, had left, we had a connection to make in Chile, and our driver was in no state to drive. The other driver helped us load the bags, and we discussed options. Simone said that he had driven a 4×4 once, and maybe he could drive. Looking at Grover, we all agreed this was a better option and asked the other driver if we could travel in convoy.

What had started as a disaster ended up being a great part of our adventure as our new driver Simone took us on a scenic tour to the otherworldly setting of the hot steam and bubbling mud of a geyser valley at sunrise, over a pass at almost 5,000m altitude, and along dirt tracks with breathtaking scenery of looming, snowcapped volcanoes under a crystal clear morning Andean sun, to our breakfast stop at a hot springs which sent a low and atmospheric mist over the adjoining lagoon where a few solitary flamingos fed in the morning light. By this stage, Grover had sobered up, and he drove us the last stretch to the Chilean border, past the spectacular Green Lagoon (green because of its arsenic content), and dropped us off at the most remote border crossing I’ve ever seen – a concrete hut and a barrier surrounded on both sides by wide open space, in the middle of nowhere in the Andes. Of all the places to have missed our bus, but what fortune that another was there waiting for another tour group.

And so our Bolivian road trip reached its eventful conclusion. How we had enjoyed it, how we were happy it was over we, and how longed for a shower. As we drove downhill, downhill and further downhill into San Pedro de Atacama, I was feeling sad to be leaving the heights of the Andes. For me, the altitude had been more physically demanding than the Himalayas where we actually went higher, but this served to underline the extremity of where we were and the conditions we encountered. The world is a different place above 3,000m, and despite the hardships, is home to some of the most beautiful places on Earth. It’s not always enjoyable, but nearly always breathtaking. It’s like another world, almost entirely deserted, incredibly peaceful and home to almost unimaginable landscapes of the great wide open. The most extreme landscapes in the world are the ultimate escape destinations, just you and nature, and with the gain well worth the pain, it’s an amazing and hugely rewarding experience.

Next stop, Chile!

Travel Tips:

The Andes tour drives in Bolivia are notorious for getting drunk, and there’s no way to predict. Our driver seemed responsible for two days and then partied until 2am on our last night (a fellow traveller heard the drivers coming home from their party). At that stage, your options are limited.

Our driver also wanted us to pay our Nature Reserve entry fee to him directly, in agreement with one of the park guards who said they had no tickets left. We didn’t, neither should you. Pay only in the offices where you will fill a form and receive a ticket. You can pay at the entrance or the exit of the park, and don’t lose the receipt or you’ll pay again.

Arrive early at your overnight accommodation on night 1 and you may have choice of a room, which could result in a private double room. First come, first served. Night 2 was all dorms. There are no private bathrooms, drainage can be an issue, and showers are paid for. On night 2, hot showers (a dribble of water) were available for a small price.

Ensure you get a ticket in Uyuni for your bus transfer to San Pedro de Atacama. And be aware there is an hour time difference between Chile and Bolivia.

We arrived at La Paz bus station in anxious anticipation of what our bus would be like. After all, we were told that due to the heavy rain flooding the south of the country, our journey could take up to 6 hours more than the usual 12 to 14 hour estimate. Unfortunately, the bus met our expectations – something a few decades past its prime, and sold out also. We were told that there was heating on board, as night-time can get pretty cold on the journey, but there wasn’t, although we did have blankets and didn’t feel the cold much. Where we did get lucky however was on the journey time as we arrived pretty much on schedule at 7am the following morning in Uyuni, after a final bumpy four hours.

Our immediate and urgent priority was to get a tour leaving Uyuni that day to the Salt Flats and on to San Pedro de Atacama in northern Chile. The standard offering is a 3 day, 2 night tour, and there are plenty of agencies around the wide, vacant streets of downbeat Uyuni. Unfortunately, most of those agencies appeared in blacklists that we had collected from reviews on the internet, usually related to vehicles breaking down, accidents and drunk drivers. Most offices didn’t open until around 8:30 and walking around a cold, bleak town after a short night’s sleep on a bus with no shower is great fun of course, but we eventually found an agency called Blue Line (who were on our blacklist) who gave us a tour for 650Bs (ust under $100) per person. We had been insisting on seeing the vehicle, but the lady assured us it was in good condition (which it was), that there would only be 6 people plus the driver (true) and that one of the owners himself would be driving us (our driver found that one highly amusing). And so the deal was sealed. Memories of our off-road trip in the Himalayas were still with us, and despite feeling good about the wonderful scenery we hoped to experience, we were also acutely aware of the rough conditions we were likely to encounter in one of the most extreme environments in the South American continent. With optimism in good supply, we set off with our group, one Italian, Simone, and three Finnish girls with names we never managed to master, and our driver, Grover.

Our first stop was just outside the town of Uyuni at the Train Cemetery. On the outskirts of Uyuni, seemingly on a road to nowhere lie the rusting remains of the trains that once operated the main trade route from Bolivia to the Pacific Coast in Chile. A few trains still operate this route, no doubt carrying the loads of industrial salt from Uyuni to the ports, but the trains tell a story of a former glory no longer in existence. This is the first stop for all the tours from Uyuni (3 day or 1 day), and everybody took the chance to engage in some playground fun climbing aboard old wrecks and posing for photos. True to the childhood stereotype, we quickly bored of our activity and continued on to our second stop, the salt mining town of Colchani on the borders of the salt flat itself.

Driving into Colchani is a wake-up call as to how grim life can be in such remote locations as the southern reaches of the Bolivian Andes. The debatably picturesque town seemed dead other than for the constant wind that inhabited its streets. The train line ran through the centre of town past rundown houses with broken windows. When we parked, myself and Ninfa took a walk away from the crowd of tourists at the stalls selling salt sculptures, and found an old outdoor oven with the rotting remains of some sort of animal, and a local who made rude gestures to Ninfa. The thoughts of living in such inhospitable conditions in such a remote location gave us a desperate and depressing impression of pitiful Colchani. But our trip was about having fun, so we were excited to be heading to our next stop, the top billing of our 3 day trip, the Salt Flats of the Salar de Uyuni.

Because of the heavy rain throughout southern Bolivia, we were obliged to take a reduced excursion as the Salt Flats were entirely flooded. Instead of travelling to the Incahuasi (Isla del Pescado) and other “islands” in the salt, we would have to make do with a short drive to a salt hotel (yes, they make buildings out of salt!) just a few kilometres out into the flats. But this didn’t take away from our enjoyment as the hotel is sufficiently out into the flats to have the sensation of an endless sea of salt around you on all sides. We drove up to the edge of the salt flats and began to drive slowly through the water so as not to splash the underside of the car with the salty water. Our driver was the slowest of all with loads of jeeps overtaking us, and myself and Ninfa joked that we had probably ended up with the most conservative driver in Uyuni, but at least he wasn’t likely to be getting drunk – better off with the safe guy. The Salt Flats are best known for a sea of white as far as the eye can see, but the effect of the flood was to create the largest mirror on Earth. Islands of rock in the distance cast a perfect reflection below them, and far on the horizon, the sky seemed to reach down to the ground with clouds stretching below your feet. It was an amazing sight, and probably the pictures will describe it better. If there’s any place to feel as if you’re walking in the sky, I guess the world’s largest salt flat at 3,700m altitude.

After lunch we made a brief stop in Uyuni, which had transformed into a buzzing and quite pleasant afternoon town, under a bright clear sunshine. It was a short stop though to collect some provisions and buy some beer and water before heading out into the wilds of the Andes. The easy bit was over, now came the “fun” part … read about the hardships of overnighting in the Andes, and how our driver turned from Jekyll to Hyde in our next post this Friday.

Travel Tips

Assuming your overnight bus arrives on time, you will have enough time to find a tour agency last minute for a departure the same day. You will not have a decent night’s sleep, and no showers, until you arrive in San Pedro de Atacama, so if you didn’t sleep on the overnight bus, maybe spend a day in Uyuni to rest up, although there doesn’t seem much else to do in town as all sights are included in the tours.

We chose Blue Line as our agency, although they have received terrible reviews, as have almost every agency in Uyuni. Lots of people will approach you selling tours on the street, looking for people to fill jeeps. You will not save a lot of money by booking in Uyuni instead of La Paz, but you will get a chance to work out the essentials in person which gives you the chance to make sure your agent is telling the truth. We made sure that the driver was also the cook (an extra seat in the jeep), made sure that there were only 6 passengers (a seat each in the jeep) and some guarantees about the condition of the jeep. This is important as we saw many break-downs on the road, broken windows fixed with plastic (cold and great sightseeing), and some cars with 8 passengers, a driver and cook. Not a lot of savings, but more peace of mind from booking in Uyuni.

We spent over an hour under the rain queuing to exit Peru at the Desaguadero border as all the Bolivians who had been to the festival in Puno seemed to be going home at the same time as us. I got fed up and walked across the small bridge to Bolivia anyway, and tried to get through but they wouldn’t let me in unless they could find the Peru exit stamp, so no shortcuts. While we waited, we exchanged some money with ladies in bowler hats on the Peruvian side at good exchange rates. The Bolivian side of the same town was starkly different and pretty depressing – first impressions suggested that Bolivia might live up to its reputation as the poorest country in Latin America.

Once in La Paz, further proof was added. Traffic was hectic as there were many manifestations that day due to rising food prices and lack of food, especially sugar. Additionally, our plans to travel from La Paz to Salar de Uyuni, our next stop, were thwarted due to heavy flooding in the south of the country which meant a lot of bus companies weren´t operating the route and the other option, the train which only runs 2 days a week, was already sold out. And so we spent the most of our rainy first two days in Bolivia in the hotel researching alternative plans with limited luck, and sorting out customs formality in order to receive my replacement Kindle (stolen in Ecuador) which had been at customs for three weeks, which cost much frustration but was ultimately successful.

Things started to brighten up on the third day which dawned a beautiful bright day in La Paz. We had lunch at a nearby restaurant called the Salteña Paceña which is only open for lunch and serves a choice of tasty meat or chicken empanadas for 4 bolivianos (9 bolivianos = 1 euro) each. I enjoyed mine but Ninfa is looking forward to something better in Argentina where the dough is a lot lighter, and I can´t say I´m not looking forward to that too. From here we took a minibus along the Avenida Arce, near our hotel, along El Prado to the Plaza San Francisco. This church has a beautiful baroque façade which faces out onto the busy square, which was under a lot of reconstruction while we were there. It´s a busy square with lots of balaclava wearing shoe shine boys and cholitas in bowler hats selling drinks and phone calls from their stalls. The balaclava seems to be part of the uniform for shoeshine boys in La Paz, even on hot, sunny days.

La Paz isn´t really noted for its long list of attractions, and fortunately its few attractions are located close together as walking up La Paz´s hilly streets is a tiring affair. Our first stop was the Witches Market (Mercado de la Hechiceria) on the Calle de las Brujas (Witches Street). It´s become a bit more oriented to the usual tourist paraphernalia such as t-shirts, tapestries and musical instruments than to the business of witchcraft, but there´s enough of a mix to make it an interesting trip. I found the stallholders (witches) to be very nice and pleasant people, like most of the people in La Paz. Anytime I asked to take photos, they would oblige, just pleased to be asked I think.

We stopped at one stall which sold the witches spells of dried llama foetuses (to be buried in house foundations for good luck), dried pigs foetuses (for general luck if you don´t like llamas), and dried armadillos (which I had seen used as musical instruments at the Puno festival, for luck of course). We bought two lucky charms at one stall, a little bottle of trinkets for Ninfa, and a ceramic llama for me. I asked the stallholder, Vivi, for a photo together and she was shy but agreed, and then asked me if I could give her a print of it. I don´t remember the last time I printed a photo, probably for my passport, so I told her if the llama brought me luck, I´d be back with a printed photo.

Our tour continued to the Plaza Murillo where most of the main government buildings are located such as the Presidential Palace, although the main attraction here is the legions of pigeons which the people buy seed to feed. The pigeons aren´t shy either and sit on people´s heads, hands and anywhere to get closer to the seed. There were a lot of police and presidential guards on the square and I decided I wanted to be in a lot of photos that day and they accepted (sometimes unwillingly) to grant my wish. I didn´t succeed however to get my photo with a cholita wearing my hat while I wore her bowler hat – another day perhaps.

After Plaza Murillo, we took a minibus up the steep slopes to El Alto and the Mirador (Lookout). This is without doubt La Paz´s finest attraction. Here we were standing at 4,000m altitude looking out on a sprawling red brick city and a truly skyscraping downtown surrounded by snow-capped peaks of mountains which even at this altitude towered into the sky. We could trace the perfect shadow of the clouds on the city below. The light at this altitude is so clear in the thin air, and we looked far off into the distance as far as we could see, the only obstacle, a thick cloud around the highest peak of the giant Ilamani mountain. We stayed for a while taking pictures, watching a crew filming a news report, and just appreciating the amazing view of La Paz, one of the most spectacular natural settings for a city anywhere in the world.

We took a minibus back down (a lot quicker going back) and stopped near the colonial street of Calle Jaen. It reminded us a lot of Las Rondas in Quito, and is a small street with several museums, well-maintained colonial buildings and a few cafes. This small street, along with the squares previously mentioned, is more or less the total of La Paz´s colonial heritage. As luck would have it, on our walk back downhill to El Prado, we passed a photoshop, and I was able to develop and print my photo for Vivi in the Witches Market. She had a big smile when I gave her the photo and I´ll be keeping my lucky llama with me for the rest of the trip.

We ended the night with a curry in the Star of India restaurant which claims to serve South America´s most dangerous curry, their version of the Vindaloo. I accepted the challenge, and during a spicy and not always enjoyable 15 minutes, earned myself a free t-shirt for finishing the dish. Hot stuff, but nothing compared to the Szichuan chicken in China which I struggled to eat 6 spoons of.

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Our final full day in La Paz was spent replanning our itinerary and finally deciding that we were going to Salar de Uyuni anyway, and mentally preparing ourselves for an overnight bus and then two nights of very basic, shared and cold accommodation in the high Andes. We decided to change our thoughts to something lighter by attending a famous wrestling phenomenon unique to Bolivia, the flying Cholitas. We went back to El Alto and bought two tourist tickets (front row) for the contest. Ladies in South America have a hard life at the best of time, but in the first bout three guys ganged up on one cholita in a show of anything but chivalry. She gave as good as she got for the most though and earned a rematch next week. The next fight was an all male contest and we had some snacks and moved from the tourist seats at the front to the bench seats at the back for a better view and a more authentic experience. Next up was another battle of the sexes with a “ruda” (baddie) cholita against a masked luchador. She teamed up with the ref and tried every trick in the book, and plenty of flying petticoats and underskirts crashed down on the poor man, before a twist of fate saw him win the bout against all odds. The final bout was between two sisters who had seemingly had an acute case of sibling rivalry. By the end, one of them had all her clothes ripped, but still had her braids intact, which was better than the first cholita we saw in action. It was all very slapstick and quite funny, but a bit drawn out. Nevertheless, it was a lighthearted and uniquely Bolivian way to pass a Sunday afternoon, and the crowd of locals made up of all ages seemed to enjoy it as well.

We were out of the wrestling just in time for sunset, although it was a bit cloudy, but it would take a long time to be tired of that view of La Paz from El Alto.

So that’s the end of our La Paz escapades. For a city which doesn´t offer a lot, there are a lot of tourists, and we ended up really enjoying it. Let’s see how we enjoy our bus and our Salar tour!

Click on these links for all our photos of La Paz, the great views from El Alto, and the Wrestling Cholitas.

Travel Tips

We took the Tour Peru bus from Puno to Desaguadero at around 6:30am. We paid 75 soles (35 for one ticket, 40 for the second). The roads were fine the whole way, and the journey took 6 hours, although border formalities were exceptionally time-consuming due to the recent festival in Puno.

In La Paz, minibuses were a safe means of travel, one person to a seat, and very cheap. Anything along El Prado is 1 boliviano (9 bolivianos = 1 euro). A minibus from the centre to the El Alto Lookout (direction Cejas, ask for Mirador stop) was 2 Bs. Just ask the price, hop on and when everyone starts paying, you pay too. Lots of police on El Prado at night make it safe for walking.

Cholita Wrestling is only on Sundays, and can be bought from a travel agent for 80Bs. Alternatively, take minibuses (3Bs total), and pay 50Bs at the entrance for a tourist ticket. Bench seat would be fine though and are likely to be at least 50% less. The stadium is right beside the Mirador, and right beside the motorway toll-booth.

We spent three days in total in Puno. The first was entirely devoted to the celebration of the Fiesta of the Virgen de la Candelaria, the second to organising Ninfa’s visa to Bolivia through an application to a very fussy Bolivian consul in Puno, and the third, to a day-trip by boat on Lake Titicaca.

There are two main attractions on Lake Titicaca. The first are the Uros islands, not far offshore, where a group of indigenous people continue a centuries-old way of life living on floating islands built of reeds. The second is further out on the lake, the scenic island of Isla Taquile, which is home to a community of 3,000 people who live a very traditional way of life. Boats to Uros leave all day including the afternoon, and we contemplated skipping Isla Taquile and just seeing the Uros after having obtained Ninfa’s Bolivian visa. Isla Taquile is 3 hours from Puno by boat, and 6 hours boat ride for one day trip seemed a lot, and we had read that some people found the tours very touristy (a loosely defined term that can mean lots of things from just popular to unauthentic). Nonetheless, in the end, we decided to do both, even though it meant extending our stay in Puno by a day longer than planned.

We’re living without an alarm clock since I got my bag robbed in Quito, and so we have to depend on Ninfa’s somnolent sense of time and a slice of luck to wake up on time. The next morning we were up at 5:45 – Ninfa’s watch and sense of time are constantly five minutes too early, or mine five minutes too late depending on which way you look at it. We were picked up by our airport pick-up at 6:45 instead of 6:30, picking up the rest of our party en route to the port and boarded our boat at around 7:15.

The boat ride to the Uros takes approximately 20 minutes, as they are very close to the lakeshore. The Uros originally lived on land around Lake Titicaca, but due to the oncoming spread of the Inca Empire, they took refuge on the lake, inventing these floating islands and staying at arm’s length from the Incas who later ignored them and left them in peace, as did the Spanish who saw no gold or silver in the lake’s waters. As Joel had told us the night before at the Fiesta in Puno, the Uros are rumoured to have black blood which protects them from both the cold and from drowning. No blood was spilt on our visit, and therefore the claim remains unsubstantiated. Sadly, no pure Uros actually remain, as their small population was forced either ashore or to intermarry with nearby Aymara and Quechua tribes, but these Uros descendants still uphold a traditional way of life, albeit heavily dependent on tourism.

Our boat sailed through a wide canal bordered on both sides by high tortora reeds which grow in abundance in the low water areas of the lake. We passed through a small entrance checkpoint and made our first stop at the floating island of Santa Maria. We were greeted on the island by the portly inhabitants in their brightly coloured outfits. I love bright colours myself and being in the Andes is a feast for the eyes. I have no idea where they get these colours as traditionally their clothes were coloured by natural dyes, and probably still are. But in the high altitude sunlight, the colours glow like flourescent lights and are beautiful. We disembarked and sprang along to a bench made of reeds which curved around like a snake into an almost full circle. At the open end, our guide Manuel, and two of the island’s menfolk, told us about the Uros history and in particular their way of building these floating islands from the reeds. it soon became clear that the reeds were the core part of their existence, used to build a surface on top of the roots which floated in the lake, to build their houses, to build their boats, benches, everything! They even eat the white tips of the reeds which are a great source of calcium. Eight families live on each floating island, of which there are around 60 in the lake, and they shine like a golden harvest across the lake’s surface. We then were introduced to all the inhabitants of the island, and we introduced ourselves also. We were then divided up and taken into different houses and talked with the women about their lives.

It was obvious from the outset that some sort of sales pitch was coming, and shortly afterwards we were invited to browse their artisan craftsmanship which centred on woven tapestries, reed sculptures and bracelets and chains. Although we generally don’t like these staged sales ambushes, we didn’t mind on the Uros islands, as our hosts had been genuinely informative, and we were quite happy to make a small contribution to the preservation of a unique and wonderful way of life. After our shopping, we opted to take the Uros traditional boat across to the second of the Uros islands we would stop at. The boat was made of reeds in a catamaran style with a wooden deck, and very ornately decorated with two cat’s heads at the tips of each of the bows. As we left, the Uros ladies sang us a farewell song and we waved goodbye. Two of the Uros men rowed us across the lake, while other Uros locals rowed more modern rowboats filled with shopping or more reeds to replenish the islands. The second island was not very traditional at all, and had some rooms for overnight stays, a cafe and a shop as well as some grim public toilets. We didn’t stay long, and off we departed for our 2.5 hour journey to Taquile, which provided an opportunity for most of the 16-strong tourist crowd to catch up on some sleep.

We arrived at a small port at the lake-facing end of Taquile island. From there we hiked uphill, on our way passing one of the Presidents of the island, recognisable by his headwear. He allocated us a restaurant for our lunch, as business is strictly rotated to ensure that all islanders profit equally from the commerce of tourism on the island. Taquile island is home to approximately 3,000 inhabitants, who are split into 6 different communities. The island is famous for its traditions, some old, some new (ie only 4 or 5 hundred years old). We sat down in the restaurant and enjoyed the only set menu that is allowed to be served on the island, and fortunately a very tasty one. We had a starter of quinoa soup (quinoa is a type of grain widely grown in the Andes), and then a main of fried trout from the Lake, followed by a cup of fresh muna tea which helps digestion, acclimitisation and energises. After lunch, we went outside and were given a show showcasing some of the unique traditions of the Taquile people.

First, Manuel explained the millinery tradition of the Taquile. In Taquile, all single men must wear a long hat of red and white not dissimilar to a nightcap. Married men wear a patterned red and blue hat. Men of authority wear brightly-coloured hats with earflaps and bobbles. Men also wear a woven belt which bears symbols representing the 12 months of the year. Married men also wear a bag with brightly coloured bobbles on the bottom. And finally, underneath they wear a belt woven from their wife’s hair, which she cuts and grants to her husband as part of their wedding ritual. Another wedding ritual of note is that for the first seven nights of marriage, the newlywed couple must live and even sleep in the same bed with their godparents! I mean, what would the neighbours say?! Other than the dress already described, the Taquile inhabitants wear trousers, shirts and waistcoats similar to the Spanish peasant during the time of colonisation, a code they adopted from their colonisers and which they maintain to this day. Women wear multi-layered skirts and a large black shawl with bright coloured bobbles denoting a single lady, and less extravagant colours for married women. And finally, something that really needs to be seen to be believed, the women are confined to weaving (belts, bags etc) while knitting is the sole preserve of the men. Scattered around Taquile, you come across women weaving in the fields or men knitting by pathways. This unique tradition has earned Taquile a UNESCO recognition for intangible heritage. And it was one of the big reasons why we came to Taquile. I, definitely the souvenir hunter of the two of us, wanted a Peruvian woolly hat, but not just any old one; it had to come from Taquile.

Shortly after Manuel finished his introduction of the Taquile culture, our hosts played music and enacted a traditional dance representing the harvest. It was really nice music and a very authentic expression of their heritage. Another dance involved some of our group joining in, and Ninfa was invited to dance by a young man, single according to his cap, but who behaved well and kept his hands to himself. And then it was time to browse the merchandise. Ninfa got an authority hat which was knitted by one of the old men present, which was nice. On the other hand, I wanted one of the big nightcap style hats, but alas my head was too big for all of them! So I had to wait until we got to the village square at the top of the island where I still couldn’t find a hat big enough for my head, and hat to settle for an authority cap which was made from slightly stretchier wool.

To see Ninfa joining in the Taquile dance, click here.

After shopping, we walked along an old stone path across the island. The views of the old pre-Incan terraces where the plants are cultivated were beautiful, and across the lake in the foreground we could see the island of Amantani, while long away in the distance stretched the snowcapped peaks of the Bolivian Andes. The views were so wide on all sides that I could swear I could see the curvature of the Earth along the lake’s surface. Along the way, we met local and lots of children who were generally trying to sell souvenirs, although half-heartedly. I had brought a bag of bananas from the breakfast buffet at our hotel as fresh fruit is a rarity on the islands, and I gave it away to the people I would meet on the way. For the last few hundred metres of the walk, a small boy named Martin accompanied me and chatted as we walked along which was really nice.

Back on the boat, most of us climbed on to the roof to enjoy the sun. I fell asleep for 15 minutes and ended up with a big red face as a result. Sunshine at 4,000m, no need for tanning oil. I took shelter in the boat and we ended up chatting with a couple of travellers from Portugal and a couple from Australia, who we ended up sharing drinks with and also dinner back at Puno. From pretty average expectations of a perhaps “too touristy” day trip, we actually ended up having a really great day. Taquile is well worth the journey, and I was happy with the way the tours were conducted in that there was real cultural content and interaction rather than just a zoo-like point and stare.

So that’s all from Peru. What a finale in Puno and Lake Titicaca. Next news from South America’s poorest country, with the largest indigenous population in South America, the skyscraping nation of Bolivia!

 

Travel Tips

We booked our tour through Edgar’s Travel Agency on the main street (Jiron Lima) in Puno for 35 Soles each. We picked them for price and a reputation for respectful tourism that we read in the Lonely Planet. We recommend them. The 5 Soles entrance fee to both the Uros Islands and Isla Taquile (total 10 Soles) were included. Lunch was 20 Soles on Isla Taquile but very tasty, plentiful and with free soup refills.

Due to my difficulty adapting to the altitude in Cusco (3,400m), we were contemplating spending an extra day in Cusco to make up for last time and get to know the less-touristed and more authentic parts of the city such as the uphill areas around San Blas, and the Calle de los Tres Cruces which we had passed on our way to Ollantaytambo which was abuzz with locals in traditional dress buying and selling flowers, food and loads more. We were supposed to be leaving Cusco the next morning, the 7 of February, to go to Puno. It was 7:30pm as we approached the travel agent where we had bought our tickets, and we expected it to be closed. So we agreed that if it was open, we would interpret that as a sign to change our tickets and stay another day in Cusco. We got there and it was open, but as we chatted to the travel agent, he told us that the biggest festival of the year was taking place in Puno on the 7th and that we would be mad to change our dates. As far as our interpretations of signs was going, we judged this last one to be a conclusive sign of pure luck and not something we were going to ignore. And so we spent our last night in Cusco exploring the hilly and beautiful side-streets of the San Blas area of Cusco, with it’s beautiful squares with old, story-telling tiled shop-fronts, narrow streets lined with huge, smooth Inca stone walls, and a couple of cosy cafes where I enjoyed some of the local brew, Cusquena.

The following morning we took the Tour Peru bus from Cusco to Puno at 8am. We had opted for the express bus, rather than the Inka Express or Mer bus, which included several stops at archaeological sites along the way. One reason was that we wanted to arrive in Puno at 2pm rather than 5:30 pm to see the festival, and the second was that Ninfa, not a big archaeology fan to begin with, had reached her limit of Inca ruins. We had the front seats on the upper deck of the bus and were able to appreciate some really nice rural scenes in the planes around Cusco set against a backdrop of some snow-capped Andean peaks. Nonetheless I slept almost the entire way, as one of the effects of altitude sickness is lethargy, waking up every now and then feeling like you’ve been smothered and taking a huge deep breath as if I was coming up for air.

As we rolled into the surroundings of Puno, there were some beautiful views of the city of 100,000 people set against the backdrop of the spectacular Lake Titicaca at 3,800m. There was no-one anywhere in the streets on the outskirts, but as we neared the centre, that changed significantly. There were people in costume everywhere, men and women in brightly-coloured traditional dress, women with all sorts of hats, and brass bands rehearsing on street corners. We were really excited and got a taxi from the bus station to the centre. Unfortunately, neither of us had written down the address of the hotel and nobody we asked knew it by name. We eventually found it, and what a location, right on a street corner overlooking the parade. We checked in, asked for a room with a view, got it (albeit on the 5th floor with no lift!) and came straight back down to watch the events.

The Festival of the Virgen de la Candelaria (Candlemas) is the biggest festival of the year in Puno, which is widely known as the Folklore Capital of Peru. Teams of dancers from different districts in Puno, some from other Andean towns such as Juliaca and Arequipa, and bands from as far away as Bolivia parade through the streets from 8 or 9 in the morning and don’t end up until, well I don’t know when because when I finally went to sleep at 1am, they were still parading past! The staff at our hotel were engaging in a little enterprise by placing hotel chairs on the pavement and renting them out for 20 Soles each. We took two at a 50% discount and immediately joined in the fun. We were sitting beside a couple from Arequipa and before long we were chatting and sharing a beer. One of the tips for avoiding altitude sickness is staying off the booze, and we were at the highest point in our trip, but I succumbed to the lure of a few beers and learned a little Peruvian ceremony too. Someone buys a big bottle of beer (600ml) and a small plastic cup. The first person fills the plastic cup and immediately passes the bottle to the second person.  The second person holds the bottle until the first person drinks his cup, and when he’s finished, he swipes the cup at the ground to clear out the foam and passes it on. And so it continues in the circle or the line along the street. The ceremony is rigorously observed, although the first time someone passed me a bottle, I took a swig straight from it before I realised.

The parade was great, and we were both patting ourselves on the back on how well we had interpreted the signs. I was snapping away (check out the photos here) while Ninfa was receiving an in-depth interpretation of the dances, costumes and music from one of the locals. He told Ninfa how many of the men’s costumes and masks were caricatures of the colonial Spanish and the African slaves which they shipped in from Africa to dig in the mines, but who were badly suited to the altitude and died in huge numbers. These groups caricaturing the Africans and Spanish are called Morenadas and Diabladas (Darks and Devils). You could sense pride and passion, and even defiance palpating through the small streets of Puno. The lady next to me told me how she used to cry every year she was away from Puno for the festival. Here in the highlands of Peru, the identity is very much more traditional rather than colonial, a contrast to the colonial grandeur of Lima. Even the people are a lot purer indigenous breed rather than a more Europeanised mix that makes up a majority of the people we saw in Lima. There were about 60 dance troupes in total, some of them hundreds of people strong. Some featured young ladies in gawdy costumes which left little to the imagination, others ladies in multi-layered traditional dress and bowler hats, and men with bells on their boots stamping their way through the streets, followed by pounding drums and big brass bands. Everyone in Puno played a part. As they passed, people would hand out cups of beer to the sweating drummers, and some of the dancers would solicit such refreshment from the spectators, bizarrely seeming to see me as an easy target with some regularity. Our favourite bands were the most traditional though, women with bright-coloured dresses and bobbles in their hair, woven woolen dresses, and men with pointed woolen hats and bobbles hanging over their ears playing pan-pipes, instruments which have changed little since the Inca times.

And so it continued into the night. We took a break for dinner before having a few more beers with a local Aymara couple from near Puno and finally leaving the festivities to continue without us late into the night. Bright sunshine, hail showers, and finally heavy drizzles of rain did nothing to dampen the atmosphere. We had a great time! Both Ninfa and I agreed that this explosion of native Peruvian culture was one of the highlights of our round the world trip, while Peru was also one of the top countries.

The next couple of days in Puno, we visited the church which hosts the Virgen de la Candelaria on Parque Pino, and watched some of the band performances on the Plaza de Armas, where the steps were full of spectators. One of the remarkable aspects of the festival is the extent to which the people enjoy it. You could see the excitement on their faces watching the dancers, and others danced along to the brass bands. This was a rich and colourful side of Peru, and one that the native population revel in. in the evenings, spontaneous impromptu parades would begin and a few groups would dance through, joined by locals. And despite all the carnival atmosphere, the locals we talked to told us that this was nothing compared to what could be witnessed at the festivals in Ororu in Bolivia. It was quite enough for us though and as we woke regularly through the night to the sound of bands, bell-boots and boozers, we somehow still felt it was a pleasure to have such nuisances interrupt our sleep. I’d love to see some of these Peruvian groups at a Saint Patrick’s Day parade in Dublin some year.

But now, it’s on to Bolivia. Peru has been amazing. And for our last post from Peru, our story of an excellent day trip we took on Lake Titicaca during our time in Puno, check out our next post.

 

Travel Tips

We travelled by bus from Cusco to Puno with Tour Peru (5 hours) for 40 Soles each. Inka Express offers a tour journey (recommended by others) for $35 each (8 hours). We stayed in the Camino Real Turistico hotel in central Puno which we recommend, although select a room at the back if you’re a light sleeper.

More photos of the festival are here, and for pictures of a more everyday Puno, click here.

Having spent my last night in the jungle evacuating the entire contents of my stomach, I was in fragile condition when we reached Cuzco at 3,400m altitude the next morning. The change from almost 100% humidity at 200m above sea level to the exact opposite 3,200m higher was always going to be tough. As it turned out, I was feeling fine when we got to the airport, until it became apparent that our promised hotel pick-up did not materialise. We sat down in the airport lounge for a cup of fresh coca tea (alas we did not realise this was the freshest coca we would see in the Andes, and did not take any with us) and booked a new hotel which might promise better standards and somewhere comfortable to acclimatise.

As it turned out, we made a good decision. Hotels in Cuzco are expensive for what you get, obviously charging a premium to be in one of the best bases to explore the ancient mountain kingdom of the Incas. Ours was warm and quite comfortable and I spent the majority of our first 24 hours of our stay in Cuzco with a sore head and unable to keep my eyes open. Ninfa, on the other hand, was adjusting very well. In our first full day in Cuzco, our only excursion out was a very slow walk to a nearby launderette and then on to Carlo´s Pizza for dinner. Carlo´s became our restaurant of choice for delicious pizzas with spicy chilis and good comfort food. On our first night there, I told the chef about my headaches and he pulled out some fresh leaves (of “ruda” I think) and told me to sniff them while breathing in deeply and then rubbed them over my face and forehead according to some local cure. I slept with the leaves under my pillow, but all in all, I think the pizza did a better job than the leaves.

The next day, we walked around the lower parts of town buying a replacement bag for me to carry my camera and other daily bits and pieces, and organising our transport from Cuzco to Puno for after our visit to Machu Picchu. I was beginning to feel better and by the afternoon I was finally acclimatising thanks to another pizza and copious cups of coca tea. Our search for bus tickets to Puno and entrance tickets to Machu Picchu brought us off the beaten track in Cuzco into some nice colonial squares and foundations of old Inca buildings. Cuzco is a beautiful city and the squares are adorned with very nice buildings, none more so than the expansive Plaza de Armas, surrounded on one side by the huge cathedral, another by the university and the Jesuit church, and on the other sides by converted colonial, balconied residences with a huge green in the centre. The downside is that you can´t sit on a bench and take it all in without a procession of touts taking their turn to sell you jewelry, tours or knitwear.

Because I hadn´t been feeling well, we hadn´t visited many of the sights in Cuzco, but the evening before we left for the Sacred Valley, I visited the cathedral while Ninfa relaxed back at the hotel. Archaeology is not Ninfa´s greatest passion and she was saving her reserve of interest in history until Machu Picchu. The church itself is very impressive with beautiful wooden carved altars and naves, and massive, time-worn, gold-plated gates which the church staff were closing as I walked around. Of note also is a painting of the Last Supper from a local artist which depicts the final meal as a vizcacho (similar to a guinea pig). The main item of note though is the statue of Jesus Christ of the Earthquakes, the patron protector of Cuzco, and to whom many of the locals show great devotion, notable for the fact that the Jesus is black, allegedly having become so after an earthquake in the 1800´s.

Perhaps prompted by the painting in the church, we went for our last supper before leaving for the Sacred Valley in a nearby restaurant, the Inka Grill, for some cuy (guinea pig). Alas the food was disappointing, and instead of getting a whole guinea pig served with an apple in its mouth, the cuy was already carved. What´s it like? Very gamey flavour, a bit smelly, not very tender, and the last time I´ll be eating rodents I hope.

The next day we travelled in a shared taxi to Ollantaytambo at the foot of the Sacred Valley. On our way out of town, we passed through side-streets and along the crowded Calle de Tres Cruces which had a bustling, colourful Andean market in full swing – flowers, food, bright blankets, traditional hats and bicycle carts. It was a beautiful drive as we climbed into the highlands above Cuzco to well over 4,000m, and then down by Urubamba town, and on to Ollantaytanbo. When we got there, we realised we would not need the whole day to explore the ruins or the village, but we couldn´t change our 7:30pm train tickets as all prior trains were full. As it turned out though, Ollantaytambo has a few nice places for a drink and food, and I visited the ruins which climb up the hillside. Some of the stonework is classic Imperial Inca with smooth stones, slanted doorways, and some huge pieces of stone. The mountain opposite is alleged to be sacred and my guide pointed out the outline of a face, an Inca man, an Inca woman, and a sleeping Inca. He was seeing lots of things, and I left him to see more and went with Ninfa to catch the train.

The seats on the Expedition train with Peru Rail are a little cramped, and the journey is very bumpy. They promise you a snack on the Expedition train, but it´s two crackers or something, and there was no hot water for coca tea. We got to Aguas Calientes around 10pm, into a torrent of rain. We found a hotel near the station and bedded down for the night next to a heater with our clothes on it.

The next morning dawned, if dawned is the right word, in a mist of heavy rain, and we made our way to the ticket office for 7:30am. There was only one ticket agent, and by 8am, we were still in line and the line was at least 100 deep. We got our tickets, then queued for bus tickets and then queued for the bus. Just before we got on, we were told there was a landslide and the road was blocked – you can imagine what the weather was like. We took a bus to the landslide, then walked past the clearing up operation, and connected to a bus on the other side. Once there, we organised a tour for 10soles each as part of a group of 12 or 14. There was no chance, and no point, of us climbing Huayna Picchu in this weather, and by the time our tour started, it was 10am – what a long morning!

Our tour guide guided us around the main sites in Machu Picchu, and explained some of the history and importance of the site. We spent around 2 hours of a 2.5 hour tour with him before quitting because we were wet through to the skin, and too cold to concentrate on what he was saying. It was a miserable morning, and had been raining straight for over 4 hours now. During our 3 hours at the site, we saw Huayna Picchu emerge from the clouds for a combined total of around 15 minutes in all. Although it was disappointing, it was still a great experience to visit such a well-preserved Inca town, gape down at the 500m sheer drops to the Urubamba river below, and suddenly see huge mountains emerge from the mists on all sides. It is obviously a magical place. We were down by around 1pm, paid for a cold shower at our hotel from the previous nights (check-out time was 9am), and went for lunch at the Indio Feliz restaurant in Aguas Calientes. A hot fire, delicious food, and ample portions soon put a bit of cheer back into us. Although, when we left for the train station at 3pm, all the rain had gone, and you might even have seen a ray of sunshine or two. So it turns out that in rainy season, you can probably ignore your guidebook and visit Machu Picchu in the afternoon, not the morning.

Now that we were acclimatised, we spent our last night in Cuzco exploring the upper reaches of the town around the San Blas area. Here we saw the remains of some Imperial Incas walls which have been incorporated into modern buildings. They were amazing – smooth, no cement or mortar, imposing in size and still firmly in place to this day. The sidestreets around San Blas are narrow and full of character, and quite steep. We stopped for a few drinks on our tour around, and our last evening in Cuzco really left us wanting more.

So, our final thoughts on the Sacred Valley;

Positives: amazing Andean scenery, Cuzco is a beautiful town, Carlo´s Pizza, Ollantaytambo is a peaceful village and worth an overnight stay if you don´t mind visiting Machu Picchu in the afternoon.

Negatives: too many touts in Cuzco, hotel prices everywhere in Sacred Valley, and although it is amazing everything about Machu Picchu is too expensive – train is minimum $65 return (for Peru!), entrance is $40+, and the bus from Aguas Calientes is $16 return. That´s a lot when you consider your own car with driver from Cuzco to Ollantaytambo is only $14.

We still enjoyed our time in the Sacred Valley, and as I said, Cuzco left us wanting more. Next stop, fiesta time on the shores of Lake Titicaca in Puno!

Click on the links for more photos of the Sacred Valley and Ollantaytambo, Machu Picchu, and Cuzco.

Next on our South America itinerary after Ecuador was Peru, and our first stop there was the capital, Lima. Our plan was to spend a few short days in the capital before making our way to Peru’s more famous sights of the Amazon Basin and the Andes, and to be honest we weren’t expecting that much from the city as it did not feature prominently in any of our guides, especially compared to Quito. What we did not account for however, were two important factors. One, we were staying with a host, Pedro, in Lima, and two, Peruvian cuisine is among the best in South America with a rising international reputation.

We were met at the airport in Lima on a balmy summer’s evening by Pedro, a native Limeno who is a good friend of Ninfa’s brother from when he used to live in Honduras. Pedro had offered to be our host in Lima when he heard our trip would take us his way, and this really made a difference into how we were able to discover the city. it was already dark when we arrived in the city, but Pedro took us on a leisurely drive along the waterfront of the chic Miraflores district which was full of locals sitting in the numerous parks enjoying the cool sea breeze, before we headed back to his apartment for a late dinner. Ninfa’s brother Salva had told us that we would be very fortunate if we had a chance to sample some of Pedro’s fine cooking, and he wasn’t lying.

During our stay in Peru, we tried many of the better-known Peruvian staples, but Ninfa in particular spent a lot of the next two weeks trying to find another serving of the delicious huancaina sauce that Pedro served that first night. The flavours are not immediately mouth-watering, but put them together and you have a delicious meal. Peru is home to hundreds maybe over a thousand varieties of potatoes, and we had boiled potatoes served with hard-boiled egg and smothered in a huancaina sauce made of among other things cheese, crackers and aji chii peppers. Next was a creamy chicken casserole, Aji de Gallina, served again with boiled potatoes and black olives. There were lots of strong flavours, but they all worked really well together and with a couple of the Pisco Sours, Peru’s national drink, to wash it down, we were looking forward to discovering more.

The next day, Pedro kindly offered to be our guide around Lima Centro, which is home to Lima’s sizeable colonial legacy. On the way into town from Miraflores, we passed several impressive squares, lined with grand edifices of Spanish and French influence, the most impressive of which was the dazzling, entirely white Plaza San Martin. Pedro works in the Peruvian Foreign Ministry who conveniently have a staff carpark right in the centre of Lima, and on our way out, Pedro took the opportunity to show us around some of the historic buildings which now form part of the ministry. As if having a resident tour guide wasn’t enough, here we were visiting a beautiful colonial courtyard which would have been entirely off limits were it not for our host. The pink facade with the intricately carved wooden balcony protruding streetwards encased a rich yellow courtyard complete with former stables, and still alive with the memories of its colonial inhabitants. We walked through some of the rooms admiring the furniture and paintings, one of which depicted the Epiphany when the Three Kings visit the Infant Jesus, on which date over 1500 years later Francisco Pizarro named the city of Lima, the City of Kings for Spain.

From here we proceeded on a walking tour around the centre of Lima commencing first with the grandeur on an enormous scale of the Plaza de Armas. Each side of the square seems more magnificent than the other. On one end is the ornately decorated Cathedral of Lima alongside a bishopry which faces across to the grand balcony of the Municipal Palace, which sits alongside the Governor’s Palace which proudly bears a large Peruvian crest on either side featuring the cornucopia of gold, the vicuna (like a small llama) and the national cinconcha tree. The square itself would make a fitting centrepiece to many a great nation, but with the Peruvian flag flying high above the Municipal Palace, there’s no doubt as to who it belongs to. Our walk continued along the side streets of Lima Centro, by wooden-balconied colonial residences now converted into resturants, past stalls selling Inca Kola and past doorways leading into centuries old taverns. We made a stop at the National Library which holds an exhibit dedicated to the recent Nobel Laureate for Literature, Peruvian Mario Vargas Llosa, at some ruins of the original city walls which look out to the cross on the Cerro San Cristobal which towers beside Lima, and a final stop at the magical Iglesia San Francisco. While not what the architect may have had in mind, the numerous nooks and ledges in the baroque facade attract legions of faithful avians, and with a little patience the observer below can witness a sudden burst of frenzy as hundreds of pigeons take flight all at once and cast a manic cloud over the entire square. Our next stop was frenzy of a different kind around the Mercado Central with shoeshiners set up on street corners, barrow-boys wheeling crates of Inka Cola at high speed along crowded streets and official money changers the only people who seemed to be standing still in the small and lively Chinatown, before we concluded our walking tour with a visit to the tranquil and beautiful Compania de Jesus church next to the Foreign Ministry. And it didn’t stop there, as we passed historic pre-Columbian era pyramids, sitting out of place among high-rise apartments on our drive back to Miraflores. Lima Centro has a wealth of colonial legacy, a diversity of old and modern and is compact enough to cover by foot in one day, and is well worth a stop on any South American tour.

That night we went to the Barranco distric for dinner overlooking the bay, and tried another of Peru’s culinary specialities, anticuchos. Although almost all of South America speaks Spanish, there are plenty of differences in how each region speaks it and local names abound. Anticuchos are kebabs, and the speciality in Peru are beef-heart kebabs, and many a lover of beef will fall in love with these succulent, juicy kebabs. Beef figures prominently on Peruvian menus, and we had tried one of the most common beef dishes at lunchtime in the excellent understated eatery of San Juan in Lima Centro, just off the Plaza de Armas. Lomo Saltado is almost like a beef wok dish of greens, rice and beef flash fried and served on a bed of chunky french fries – very tasty! This had followed a savoury starter of causa which is a type of yellow potato pie found in many varieties but this one combining hard-boiled eggs, cauliflower and black olives – believe it or not, very tasty too! All this watched down with a jug of sweet chicha morada, which is a juice made from the purple corn found in the Andes.

Our second and last day in Lima was a beautiful, bright sunny day, and I got up early to take a Sunday morning jog along the waterfront in Pedro’s home neighbourhood of Miraflores. The seafront in Lima is backed by a 40 metre high cliff where most of the city is found, and the parks of Miraflores are right on the edge of the cliff, and provide fantastic views of the surfers below. The beach in Lima is stony, so every time the waves slide out, they rattle the stones together, a noise which is amplified by the cliffy surrounds and provides a constant soundtrack for the throngs of Limenos who flock everyday to their beloved open spaces. We took an early lunch around midday to avoid having to queue for the famous Puerto Azul restaurant in the middle of Miraflores. Puerto Azul is only open at lunchtime and is one of the most popular restaurants in Lima for Peru’s signature dish, ceviche! Peru claims to have invented ceviche, and with ceviche this good, there’s no arguing. Ceviche is a dish of raw fish, marinaded in some seasoned lemon juice whose acid actually cooks the fish, and in Peru is topped with thinly sliced red onion. Where in Honduras, ceviche is served in small chunks, here the ceviche in Puerto Azul comes in sushi sized slices, and thanks to its freshness is marinaded for less than an hour resulting in a mouth-watering, tender, and delicious fish dish. It’s one of Ninfa’s favourite dishes, but Puerto Azul deserves the queues as it was outstanding. I opted for the chicharron de pescado which was a jumbo-sized portion of deep-fried shellfish and fish in a light batter which was delicious, but enough for my lunches for a week!

We ended the afternoon sipping coffees on the clifftop of Miraflores and strolling along the paths admiring the views and enjoying the sunset at the Gaudi-esque Parque de Amor, before returning to Pedro’s for more potatoes in huancaina sauce. Although there aren’t many attractions in Miraflores other than its cosy cafes, great restaurants, countless parks and scenic clifftop walks, it’s a place where time seems to fly by, and its easy to see how it’s the residential district of choice for well-to-do Limenos.

And so it is, the end of our weekend away in Lima. Our gracious thanks to Pedro who made such a difference to how we were able to experience the city, and underlined the fact that seeing a cith through the eys of an informed local is infinitely more rewarding than simply from an out-of-towners perspective. Next stop, a complete change of scenery – the Peruvian Amazon Basin in Puerto Maldonado. Until then, all the best from Tarzan and Jane!

There’s no doubt about it, we saved money by booking our Galápagos Cruise last minute, yet despite that, it still remained an expensive venture – it better be good! We flew out from Quito airport (without anything getting robbed this time) with TAME and landed in Baltra airport in the Galápagos. We were joking together when we landed that we better not run over an iguana on the runway, and then as we were taxiing to the airport building, there was a huge iguana sunning himself on the runway! Good start!

We were picked up at the airport by some of our boat crew who were collecting everyone. We could see some people with their badges and bagtags for our boat, and we were busy casing everyone out and making first impressions. We were definitely on the younger end of the age profile, so we were reserving judgement on how it would work out on our 5 day, 4 night Galapagos cruise. We were transferred from the airport to the pier to get our boat. On the jetty, there was a sealion sunning himself, and he was way too busy relaxing to be bothered by all the people around. Within a few minutes of arriving, we had one of the classic Galapagos photos centimetres away from a sealion. Great start!

Once on the boat, we settled in, and then had a briefing from our guide Peter. It was his first tour of the year, and I hope his safety briefing becomes more brief during the year – a few people fell asleep! Then he got on to the good stuff, our first landing and what we were going to see. The routine on the ship generally proceeds as follows. Each evening before dinner, there is a briefing for the next day – landing sites, background, environment, wildlife, etc. It was very professionally done. Our first landing was on Bachas Beach which is on a small island just off Baltra Island. We took a walk and spotted hundreds of the brightly coloured Sally Lightfoot crabs. We had to be careful where we stepped on the beach as all the sand at the back of the beach were covered in turtle nesting sites. We could even see the flipper marks where they had crawled up to lay their eggs. Further on, we saw some nice seabirds, and our first sight of marine iguanas. They were ugly! They´re black, scaly and they have a habit of purging salty seawater through their nostrils anytime you get too close, which makes you jump the first time. Mostly they just lie around, but one of them went for a swim for us, using its long tail to propel itself through the water. We ended up with a bit of snorkelling, but because it was a cloudy day, and because the water was very choppy, we couldn’t see the mask on our faces.

Day 1 ended with dinner on board the boat and making second impressions of our group. On a tour like this, there are two highly important enjoyment factors – you’re stuck on a boat for three days – are the people okay, because they can’t be changed, and what’s the food like, because I don’t want to starve. We were lucky, or maybe we just got what we paid for. As Ninfa said on our last night, we don’t normally like so many people, but this time we had liked everyone on the boat. And that was true. Through the course of our trip, we got to realise that they were all nice people, all well-travelled, and there wasn’t one person you couldn’t sit down and have a chat with. Mind you, we did end up spending most of our leisure time with two people in particular – Mary from Minnesota, and Myron from Utah. They were both around 60, but by far the youngest people on the boat, and we spent most evenings slipping rum from our flasks into our glasses under the dinner table and enjoying a good laugh.

Day 2 started early with a 7am transfer to Bartolome Island off which we had docked during the night. More sealions greeted us at the jetty with one male swimming around barking his head off protecting his territory. We didn’t intrude on his territory and instead started hiking along the wooden pathway to the pointy peak of Bartolome. On the way, we spotted loads of little lava lizards scurrying around the sandy red soil, before stopping to pick up some of the lava rocks on the side of the path, some of which were dense and heavy, and others which were light as a feather, betraying their size. On the top, we enjoyed some great views stretching out to the point of Bartolome Island, and across the black Santiago Island where lava had years ago engulfed two smaller independent islands, and way off into the distance past more islands where we saw the day-tripper boats coming into view. It was only 9am but it was getting hot and we could see the heatwaves reflecting off the ground, so we descended and made a quick trip back to the boat to get our snorkels. The beach on Bartolome was of soft golden sand and a family of sealions were playing on one side, so we snorkelled over and played with them which was great. We spent over an hour in the water spotting loads of different types of starfish (the chocolate chip one made me hungry), a penguin sunning himself on a rock, loads of sea cucumbers, numerous colourful fish and right in the middle of the bay, huge fish eating seaweed and then vomiting it out, where other smaller fish would rush in and eat it – curious behaviour but fascinating to watch.

In the afternoon, we took a small trek on the black ropey lava of Santiago island. Ninfa and I had already seen plenty of lava in Hawai’i so we were pleased when we went back to the boat to get the snorkels again. There wasn’t a whole lot of fishlife around the shore of Santiago as the lava rock does not support a lot of marine vegetation for the fish, but as we were nearing the end of our time, we spotted something neither of us had seen before – a shark! It was about 6 feet long and swimming a long way below us, but we followed it for a few minutes and got a great look. It was a white-tipped reef shark which is not interested in humans. By this time, we had spent too long in the water, and the zodiac (dinghy) from the boat had come to pick us up. We told the driver about the shark, and he told us that the sharks with a white tip on its dorsal fin are harmless, but get out of the water if we saw one without a white tip. Back on the boat, we were drying off when we saw a big stingray swimming past the boat. I was still wet so I jumped back in to get a look, but by the time I swam around it was gone. My eyes were still adjusting to the light underwater when I saw a big fish swimming around way below me. I strained my eyes to see what it was – a big shark about 8 feet long. It was circling around and rising in the water, and then I realised it didn’t have a white tip on its fin. Cue panic! I started swimming as fast as I could to the boat and jumped on board in a flash. Ninfa had been watching from the boat when a lady on board said “he saw something he doesn’t like”, and then watched as the shark rose and cut its dorsal fin through the surface of the water and off out to sea in a perfect Jaws Junior audition.

That was all the fun for day two and overnight we sailed a very rocky journey, during which I fell in the bathroom and broke the toilet seat, to Isabella, the largest island in the Galapagos. Another early start as went off hiking into the highlands and to the Sierra Negra caldera, the second largest caldera in the world after Ngorongoro in Africa. It was a misty morning but the clouds broke for a great view over the caldera. On the way down we stopped at a lagoon to watch a few flamingos feeding before strolling around the village a while. On the beach there was a huge iguana sunning itself, and as we got closer, we saw that the black rocks were literally crawling with iguanas. Around the jetty, there were sealions everywhere. They were hilarious – lying on the paths, and even lying sunning themselves on tables on boats in the harbour.

In the zodiac on the way back to the boat, there were turtles everywhere and we were dying to go snorkelling. We didn’t waste anytime and were dropped off along a rocky shore. We played with a sealion for a bit at the start who was jumping out of the water and playing for the camera. Ninfa spotted a few stingrays hiding in the sand, and then a little further on, another sealion came to join us. There were four of us, Ninfa, me, Myron and Rudy, and the sealion was very playful. After a while we were petting it, but it kept swimming away when we did. After a while the sealion became more comfortable, and very soon became very fond of me in particular. She (it was a girl) was rubbing against me as I was swimming and kept swimming up and looking into my face. Then she started trying to pull my mask off with her flippers. We were all laughing and amazed to be honest, and we were all buzzing after such an interactive experience with a wild sea mammal. And then, just to top it off, we spotted a huge eagle ray, big, flat and round with a body wider than the span of my arms – truly huge. We were all on a high when we got back to the boat, and our last snorkel of the trip had turned out to be the best, and no sharks!

That evening we did head off to the banks of Shark Alley to spot some sharks resting but to our disappointment, there were none. But what an amount of marine iguanas – thousands! And in such a small space. They were swimming, purging, and even fighting, ramming their heads against each other in territorial fights. And on the beach there were loads of sealions and even a baby that was playing with a leaf in the water, and then trying to bite all the marine iguana’s tails- gorgeous!

The next day was our last full day in the Galapagos, and after another rocky night, we docked off the shore of Santa Cruz, home of the Galapagos’ largest resident, the giant tortoises! We took a bus up to the highlands of Santa Cruz where we took a short nature walk around the Twins, two volcanic craters on either side of the road, but the craters were here first. We saw some nice birds including some of the famous Darwin finches which are highly adapted to their respective ways of life, as well as some pretty lava gulls. After our walk, we descended again and took a side road towards the tortoise centre. The tortoise centre is a protected space where the tortoises roam wild, and there was a big one lying on the side of the road as we drove down. Galapagos tortoises actually redefine the word big, because compared to the rest of their species, they are huge! We were able to walk around them as they lay around in the shade, or in the dirty water of the ponds, although one in particular was feeling a lot friskier than the rest and raced (for a tortoise) across to get friendly with one of the females – no shame!

That afternoon we took a zodiac to the Darwin Research Station which is home to a lot of protected endemic animals of the Galapagos. As we sailed in, we finally saw one of the elusive blue-footed boobies – a sea-bird with big blue webbed feet, a little in the style of a circus entertainer. As we unboarded, a group of lazy marine iguanas greeted us with some habitual purging. The research station is home to a breeding station for giant tortoises who would otherwise be vulnerable to the introduced species of predators during their infancy. In addition, we saw a few golden land iguanas, lying around like leftovers from the dinosaur age. And speaking of extinct creatures, myself, Ninfa and Rudy were patient enough to wait and see Lonesome George emerge from his shady hiding place in his abundant pen. Lonesome George is the last surviving member of a Galapagos Tortoise sub-species. When he dies, it’s over, and lamentably this situation has largely been brought about by the murderous habits of hungry seamen in the past. The station is attempting to mate Lonesome George with two females of a closely-related sub-species, but so far without success, and whatever happens, this will be a hybrid species. It was a strange and poignant sensation seeing the last surviving member of a species, and really brought home the fact that a lot of our rich biodiversity is at risk, and sad to think that things can get to such a sorry state.

Our last night on board was enjoyed with lots of bootlegged rum from Myron and Mary, and we bid them farewell as they decided to stay on in the laid back town of Santa Cruz for a few days more, and we all gave them a good send off. Everybody was very pleased with how the trip had gone and the atmosphere on board. Our last endeavour then was a dawn rising the following morning to admire Kicker Rock, a rocky outcrop off the shore of San Cristobal island and home to many boobies, frigates and other sea-birds. As we sailed around the rock shone in the morning light as the waves pounded against its feet, and Galapagos sharks circled around below the boat – did I recognise one of those? And then it was off to San Cristobal where we landed and spent an hour or so hanging out with the sealions on the shorefront.

And that was that. The Galapagos were definitely worth the trip and the money. You will never experience the same interaction with animals anywhere in the world, ever! Their evolution in a remote island archipelago far from the threat of natural predators leave them fearless, and in the case of the tortoises innocent of the dangers of humans. It’s like a Garden of Eden of wildlife, a survivor from before the Ice Age, and the living source of one of the greatest theories in the history of humanity, there for everyone to see with their own eyes. And there’s so much more to see that we didn’t see – whales, whale sharks, hammerhead sharks, multicoloured iguanas, inflatable-throated frigate birds … all part of an amazing, amazing place. Loads of photos are here.

Travel Tips

TAME and Aerogal seem to operate a monopoly of two on the routes from mainland Ecuador to the Galápagos. Try as we did, we couldn´t get cheaper. Students under 26 however will get around $40 off each way. Non-student return is about $400.

We booked our tour in Quito with the Zenith travel agency. We recommend them. While other agencies were trying to cream some extra profit from us, Zenith immediately gave us the best price, and the price that we ended up taking. Only one couple on the tour paid less than us – $20 per person less, so practically nothing. All agencies are based around Avenida Amazonas in downtown Quito.

We travelled on the Galapagos Odyssey which is a good boat with good guide, good food, etc. We would probably recommend it, except for the fact that we forgot 4 t-shirts and a pair of shorts in our cabin wardrobe. Mysteriously, these items were never found, and we have no doubt of dishonesty on the part of some crew members, especially as the owners told us the ship went for repairs straight after we left – the guide was at the airport picking up new passengers for the boat when we were leaving! Small loss, but dishonest nonetheless. Ecuador was not good for our possessions.

Having spent three weeks in Honduras celebrating Christmas and relaxing, we finally decided our itinerary for 2011. As it stands, the trip has to end by mid-April as I have finalised my back to work date. Between now and then, we will visit as much as we enjoyably can of Latin America. Where to start was the big question. The contenders for next stop after Honduras were Cuba, or Mexico. Mexico had never been in our plans, but after a few weeks of listening to Mariachis in Honduras, a trip to the famous Plaza Garibaldi and its hundreds of Mariachis for rent was making a late claim for a place on our tour. Yet more late considerations had to be made for Costa Rica, Colombia, and another newcomer in the Galapagos Islands. And never mind that none of these places had been on our original list for South America. How to fit it all in? As it was, after much procrastinating, everything seemed to be decided in a few hours on our last full day in Tegucigalpa. And so the itinerary is (drum roll please):

1. Cuba (Havana & somewhere else in Western Cuba – to be determined)
2. Ecuador (Quito, maybe some day trips, and book a last minute tour to the Galapagos Islands)
3. Peru (Lima, Cuzco, Machu Picchu, Lake Titicaca, Amazon Rainforest)
4. Bolivia (Cross by land from Peru, La Paz, Salar de Uyuni Salt Flats)
5. Chile (San Pedro Atacama desert, then on to Santiago?)
6. Argentina (Mendoza (maybe in time for wine festival), Buenos Aires, Ushuaia, Iguazu Falls)
7. Uruguay (Colonia del Sacramento (from Buenos Aires), maybe Montevideo)
8. Brazil (Iguazu Falls, Rio de Janeiro)
9. Antarctica (hopefully a last-minute cruise)

Countries 6 to 9 are yet to be put in their final order, and that will probably depend quite a bit on how lucky we get with our cruise to Antarctica which will be by far the greatest cost we will incur on the trip, and hopefully worth every penny. Sadly, we will not have time for Costa Rica, which is unfortunate as Ninfa had lots of friends there who promised to show us a great time, but we hope that offer still stands for the time when (rather than if) we get to go there. Colombia was just too big to squeeze in also, and being serenaded by cohorts of Mexico City Mariachis remains a dream for another day.

Having finally taken a great weight off our shoulders, it’s time to get packing again and hitting the road. After over four weeks of staying with family, we’re thinking it may be a little hard to readjust. So, in order to find our rhythm again, Ninfa’s parents proposed that we take a few days before we leave to visit the South coast of Honduras. Honduras has a long Caribbean coast that stretches long from the North right round to the East of the country. To the South is the Golfo de Fonseca in the Pacific Ocean, which is a small gulf shared to the North by El Salvador, to the South by Nicaragua, and on a small stretch in the middle, Honduras. The gulf itself is rich in seafood, and is dotted with volcanic islands. The gulf lies two hours drive away from Tegucigalpa, and we set off early on a Friday morning for a three day break.

Our first stop en route was the sleepy colonial town of Pespire. Pespire is famous for its “quesillo”, a milky fresh cheese popular in Central America, and Ninfa’s favorite. We rolled into town and drove slowly along some of the old cobblestone streets past beautiful, brightly-coloured houses before parking opposite the church in the main square. The Pespire church is one of very few in all of Latin America to have three domes. Further down the street, locals heaved heavy loads on their heads, while others cantered by on horseback, and groups of lazy onlookers took shelter from the hot sun under the shade of the trees in the park. The main square is situated on a plateau and we drove down one of the side streets and stopped at a snack shop and ordered some hot tortillas with quesillo. It was a messy and all too delicious snack. On our way out of town, we stopped at another shop and bought a generous supply of quesillo to take back with us to Tegucigalpa at the end of the trip, yet proceeded to eat it all on the roadside outside the shop and then had to go in to buy some more. Although there is probably not a whole lot to do in Pespire, it’s well worth a visit due to its quesillo, its beautifully preserved colonial buildings and town plan, and the friendly, laid-back pace of life that is typical of rural Honduras.

We continued on to our destination, the Gulf of Fonseca, and the village of Amapala, on the island of El Tiigre. We parked the car at the port of Coyolito and boarded a small boat (lancha) to take us across the bay to the volcano island of Amapala. We had booked a night on the far side of the island at Playa Negra courtesy of an entertaining local tout, Cleto, who was hanging around the port. We were then picked up at the port in Amapala and driven around to the other side of the island on the back of a pick-up truck (paila).

The weather in El Tigre in January is hot! And we spent the rest of the afternoon checking out the black sand beach of Playa Negra which was full of local children playing and swimming in the muddy gulf waters. Later on, we took a tour around the island in one of the numerous tuk-tuks which are the main form of local transport on the island, before watching the impressive sunset on Playa Negra. The island is very laid back and very peaceful with lots of beautiful birdlife and beautiful scenery of the other volcanic islands in the gulf and the volcano on Amapala itself. The hotel we stayed at, also called Playa Negra, was not exactly what we expected though. We had an all-inclusive deal with meals. When we went for dinner, we were told there was no shellfish, which was surprising as the Gulf of Fonseca is famous for them, and we could have was “plato tipico” – beans, rice and eggs. Ninfa and Ada just happened to be passing by the office a few minutes later and saw the staff eating big plates of shellfish! We ended up getting a few pieces of fish and eating lots of the quesillo we had bought in Pespire, and decided to move out the next morning. Playa Negra Beach – recommended; Playa Negra hotel – no thanks.

The next day, we took a boat tour around the Honduran islands in the Gulf. Our first stop was a small island, Isla Comandante, almost completely uninhabited except for one shack on the beachfront where a young woman was playing with her child. We hung around in the sun for a bit and the Chacon’s took a swim while I soaked up the rays on the beach. We passed near the water border with El Salvador before continuing on to our second island, Almeja (I think). It’s a tiny island, more like a sand bar, with lots of different rock pools and a few vultures hanging around. Just 100m away was La Isla de Los Muertos, the final resting place of the locals of El Tigre, with it’s weather-beaten wooden crosses dotted across it’s surface. Our next and final stop was on El Tigre again, and the Playa Grande, where we stopped to have a tasty lunch of prawns and plantain chips (plenty of shellfish on Playa Grande!) and watch the locals playing football on the beach, and swimming in the sea fully-clothed, as is the Honduran way.

That night we stayed close to Amapala village in the Hotel de Las Gargolas which was significantly better than our previous night. Ninfa and I borrowed some bikes at the hotel and went down to the village for a look around. Personal security is a consideration anywhere in Latin America, but that seemed to fade away in Pespire, and then completely disappeared in Amapala. People were very laid back, and were quick to engage in conversation and more than happy for us to take some photos. Amapala was a snapshot of real, traditional village (pueblo) life in Honduras. As the sun began to set and the air to cool, the people moved out onto the street setting up tables and playing cards, or eating their dinner. We stopped on one street corner where a lady was selling baleadas and had a few of those with lots of the locals. The buildings of Amapala village are almost entirely wooden, and the old weather-beaten wood, painted in numerous different colours makes for a wonderful place to relax and enjoy a slower pace of life. In all Honduras, this has to be my favourite place of all so far. That night we had an early night – the sun had taken its toll and we had an early start back to Tegucigalpa the next day. The El Tigre island will soon be joined to the mainland by a new landfill bridge, so is a place best visited sooner rather than later while it still retains its pure island charm.

On our way back, we made another stop at Pespire (we had eaten all our quesillo in Playa Negra) and then back to Tegucigalpa. In Tegus, we had one and a half hectic days of packing and last minute organization before a sad farewell at Toncontin airport. And so, we take with us some great memories of Tegucigalpa, a new favourite place in Amapala, and a renewed sense of adventure which takes us next to Cuba!

Check out our photos of Pespire, Amapala Village, Playa Negra, Coyolito, and the Golfo Fonseca.

Our hearts were beating fast as we came into land in Tegucigalpa. Ninfa was excited to be seeing her family in a few moments. As much as I tried to be too, I was primarily concerned with surviving the nerve-wracking landing into Toncontin airport, the world’s second most dangerous airport. As it was, we touched down, and we did something we don’t normally do, give the captain a round of applause for a safe landing. The sun was high in the sky and a blast of heat greeted us as we walked across the tarmac before walking out through the terminal doors and receiving another warm Honduran welcome from Ninfa’s parents, Fafa and Ada. It was one o’clock and the party was just about to start at Ninfa’s grandparents so we jumped into Fafa’s paila (pick-up truck) and heeded straight there and into the throes of a typical Honduran family gathering of grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and then some. One of my fondest memories from my first visit to Honduras last year, was that Mama Ninfa, Ninfa’s grandmother, a fabulous lady and truly one of a kind, would let no opportunity be wasted to have guests over and enjoy some music, Honduran style. Today was no different, and shortly after settling into our seats in the shade overlooking the garden and Tegucigalpa, a troupe of musicians, a Honduran Piporro, stepped out and began to serenade us with some of my favorite songs which up until now had formed the basis of over half of my Spanish vocabulary. The Piporro, the leader of the troupe, was a large presence to say the least, his stomach bursting through his shirt, and his thick fingers pounding frantically on his accordion as he sang songs like stories, backed by a chorus of guitar-plucking piqueteros (fancy looking fellas), and a father and son brass section, and intermittent interventions from myself and Fafa. The Piporro gave us his card as he was leaving, which listed their phone numbers and their business address: “outside McDonalds, Boulevard Francisco Morazan, Tegucigalpa”.

Despite having spent four weeks in Honduras the previous Christmas, I hadn’t really spent a lot of time around the city, and I wanted to get a good look at the capital. No sooner had I mentioned this, than Fafa offered to be my guide, and a couple of days later, we were off again in the paila with camera in hand to see the sights of Tegucigalpa. A common theme in a lot of Latin American cities is heavy traffic, and Tegucigalpa is no different, but we snaked our way through unpaved multicolored side-streets in residential areas where the graffiti from last year’s coup d’etat is slowly fading on the walls, past women heating tortillas and baleadas calientitas on street corners, across bridges lined with stalls and Stetson-wearing locals, and through markets selling fresh fruit and Christmas decorations. Tegucigalpa’s parks and colonial heritage are not as well maintained as those of Santo Domingo, but there are some beautiful scenes nonetheless in this hilly city.

One of Tegucigalpa’s lesser touristed attractions is the airport. As Fafa always says, “What’s the Chinese word for airport? Ton-con-tin!” Toncontin is Tegucigalpa’s airport right in the heart of the city. With a short runway and surrounded by mountain’s on all sides, it’s not for everyone. Watching a plane landing from the ground is a much more enjoyable exercise than sitting inside the plane, although it has plenty of excitement as well. Fafa knew a little road that took us right out at the start of the runway, and we went there one afternoon to watch the plane’s come in. We were able to watch them approach the city and fly right over the runway. Once inside the ring of mountains that surround Tegucigalpa, the airplane does a complete 360 degree turn around the inner edge of the mountains, before swerving around and straightening at the last moment, right above our heads, before touching down and slamming on the brakes. By far the largest aircraft to land at Toncontin is the American Airlines flight from Miami. After having watched two or three planes land, Fafa and I headed off to a local bar for a quick beer and a snack of grilled chicken, when we heard the AA flight flying over and landing. We had missed it, but managed to enjoy the beers and the chicken anyway, and promised to return another day. And it was worth it. The day we returned, the AA jet circled around and seemed to be heading straight for us, before straightening and landing safely on the runway. The size and speed of the jet was not lost on us as soundwaves continued to lash around us like lashes of whips for about 15 seconds after it passed over. Not the usual anorak planespotting activity.

A Honduran Christmas is filled with family gatherings, but we enjoyed a couple of night’s out on the town. The first was with Fafa who invited Ninfa and I to a martial arts fight night in one of the nightclubs in a newly developed part of the city centre. The action was fast and furious as was the rum-drinking (and eventually gambling) around the ring. I woke up with a sore head and shy a few hefty IOU’s the following morning. Another night we met up with Hernan and his wife Natalie, and went to the Mariachi and Piporro lined Boulevard Morazan to enjoy a typical Honduran evening out. Hernan played a pivotal role in how Ninfa and I met, as he was in Dublin visiting his cousin (a friend of mine) when Ninfa, who was traveling in Europe at the time, decided to come along and meet him, and eventually me, and the rest is history. We had a great time, despite the fact that both Natalie and I had to respect the self-imposed rule of only speaking Spanish for the whole night. Funny how rum seems to make it easier – they don’t teach that at school!

In a Christian-dominated society, it was a little surprising to discover that what Hondurans worship most on Sundays is grilled meat. Alas the false god of barbecue Sundays is a temptation not worth resisting. We spent two Sundays as guests of Jorge and Taty, and then Javier Tovar, in the scenic Valle de Angeles, a little over half an hour outside Tegucigalpa. Set among hills covered in pine trees, Valle de Angeles is a well-preserved, sleepy, little colonial town that is well worth a day trip from the capital. Sunday is the day to visit, and if you haven’t had your fill of grilled meat, there are numerous stands along the road that are filled with capitalinos enjoying grilled corn, pupusas and a cerveza or two. It’s a little higher than Tegucigalpa and the cool mountain air was the closest we were getting to snow this Christmas.

But most of all Christmas was spent in Tegucigalpa with Ninfa’s family. We got to see the Batruny’s again (plus Martita this time), and spend time playing games, singing karaoke and eating loads with Ninfita, Maria Stefania, Salva, as well as all the aunt’s and uncles during the festivities at Mama Ninfa and Papa Victor’s. And while Ninfa’s grandparents on her father’s side, Mama Negus and Papi Salva, had gone to Santo Domingo, we had a great night of chicharron and pastelitos de perro (dog cakes, but not dog meat!) with Gaby, Conrado, Gaby, Tato and Paulina, not to mention drinks with Ina, Roberto and family at their place. No, Honduras doesn’t do small family gatherings. Everyone was keen to feed us well after 9 months on the road and we were settling into a pleasant rhythm of breakfast in bed, lunches at Mama Ninfa’s and evenings eating tortilla soup and playing video games with Victorcito, or gambling (for pride) with Victoria and sharing nerves about wisdom teeth extractions with Loris Gabriella (hope you’re smiling again!). But arguably, the people Ninfa was most pleased to see aren’t actually people at all, and they were just as pleased to see her too. Four chihuahuas, one labrador, and one big cuddly crossbreed, Takito, Mingy, Figurin, Dos Veinte, Carmela and Lola were the object of copious amounts of affection and doggy treat throughout the holidays.

There are a few specific traditions that are respected in a Honduran family Christmas. The first is that Christmas dinner is served at midnight on Christmas Eve, and although it’s not our usual dining time, it went down a treat. And a New Year’s tradition that we had to observe (for the third year running) was that of sporting our luggage (not for the first time this year) and running around the block, which is a superstition which is supposed to promise the bearer a new year full of travel and adventure – it worked last year!

Other than celebrating Christmas, Ninfa and I had high aspirations of planning the last three months of our trip which would take us around South America. Alas, following postponement after postponement, there we were with only five days left in our stay and all we had were a couple of visas, and precious little else. Probably because Ninfa was too busy spoiling the dogs, and I was too busy watching football and teaching Victorcito a thing or two on the Wii. For news of what we finally planned, and how we got on our on weekend on the south coast of Honduras, check out our next post.

So belatedly, from Honduras, Happy New Year 2011! And muchas gracias to all Ninfa’s family, and everyone we had the pleasure to spend a great Christmas and New Year with in Honduras. Viva!

PS Check out more of Tegucigalpa from our photos here.