Inca Trail Eve (Not as Cool as Christmas Eve)

We write on the eve of tackling the Inca Trail - a 42km hike along the historic path of the Inca´s to the lost city of Machu Pichu. Would love to say that we´re both looking forward to it, but the prospect of 45 kms of hiking at altitude with 3 mountain passes is not engendering any happy thoughts at this stage.

When we last left you, we were headed to Arequipa and the Colca Canyon. Before heading this way though, we took another dodgy tour (guy in a taxi cab) of some sights, this time an ancent Inca cemetary. All fun and games until our guide, who considered himself a bit of a Carlos Sainz behind the wheel, punctured the fuel tank of his Daewoo on an easy right (into crest - love the Playstation Rally). He did well though to repair the damage by removing the oil filter and using some parts from that before carrying on with his rallying antics on the 30km back to Nazca.

Our visit to Arequipa focussed on a two day tour of the Colca Canyon. This was our first foray to high altitude, venturing to 4,500m (Aoraki Mount Cook is 3,700m) during our travels. The first part of the journey winds through a series of volcanos, with the landscape bearing an uncanny resemblence to the Central Plateau of New Zealand.

Along the journey into the Colca Vally and Colca Canyon, we visited at least a dozen roadside stalls where the locals offer the usual Peruvian selection of scarves, hats, pan pipes and alike. Children are used to good effect in these mini markets, dressed in the local attire and craddling the latest addition to the Alpaca, Llama or Goat population, their role is to invite tourists to take a photo. When in Rome...

After a night of Peruvian entertainment in which Caros participated in the ´Dance of the Poisened Orange´, we garbbed a little shut eye in Peru´s coldest hostal before venturing into the canyon proper. The canyon´s star attraction are Condors which rise 1,500m on a thermal in the canyon between 9am and 10am everyday. While conditions weren´t ideal for generating the thermal due to a lack of sun (GEOG 310 - Climatology), our patience were rewarded at 9.55am when two condors made the ascent. A beautiful sight and well worth the early rise.

Unfotunately, the key souvenir taken away from the Colca Canyon was a nasty flu for Mat. Thankfully, the local pharmacists are licensed to dispense medicine as they see fit, and a couple of horse tranquilizer sized tablets had him in a semi-suitable state for the overnight bus to Cuzco. This bus trip has become our most memorable to date, though one we wish we could soon forget. Lets just say the video entertainment on the cheaper nightbus option was not a Disney Classic featuring some beloved pet, but a movie entitled ´Cannibal Apocalypse 3´. Get it out when you have a chance, especially if you have a passing interest in, nudity, canabilism and beastiality of the pork percuasion (all at the same time surprisingly enough).

We´ve been in the tourist Mecca of Cuzco for 5 nights now. The city is beautiful with fantastic architechture, great restauants and a bountiful assortment of activities in which to partake. Our time has been taken up with tours to local Incan sights, of which there are numerous to choose from. A visit to Olayantambo would probably rank as one of our favourite sights visited in the last week, as would Pisac.

Both are relatively young ruins, constructed during the time after Jebus (not a spelling mistake - watch the Simpsons) and trashed following the arrival of the Spanish in the 1500´s. Pisac features some pretty impressive terracing of the mountain side to support agriculture, while Olayantambo includes some massive carvings of faces in the mountain side that interplay with the sun during the winter solstice.

We also had a thoroughly enjoyable day on horseback, taking in some smaller Incan ruins. Our guide for this equine excursion was a 12 year old Peruvian boy with more interest in sending text messages than providing instruction to first time riders on handling a horse. Thankfully, we were both at one with our faithful steads, Caroline even partaking in some horse whispering. Caroline´s horse spent the majority of it´s time engaged in some whispering of its own, with flatulent noises accompanying every third trot. Our guide sensed our need to pick up the pace a bit, and gave the call to our harass (google it) of horses to move to a canter. Unfortunatley this lasted only 20 seconds before an American woman in our group of four spazzed out, shouting ´No Rapido, No Rapido´ as she sensed her end. Our run of luck with American tourists continues (cailing in Belize, volcano climbing in Gautemala) - fingers crossed we get a couple in our Inca Trail group.

Anyhow, our next blog will hopefully follow the successful conclusion of our trek along the Inca Trail. Best of luck to Team New Zealand in the hopes of winning the next three races, and hopefully the Bledisloe Cup test loss this morning will be the last time we see Flavell in black.

Another Day, Another Continent...

We´ve posted two blogs in quick sucession. The previous blog is some musings from us on our time in Central America, complete with some ´Weary Traveller Oscars´, while this blog updates you all on our last week of travelling.

Our arrival into Peru and South America was anything but smooth sailing. While checking in for our flight from Mexico City, we learnt that we we´re over-stayers, ´Banditos of the State´ and in breach of our Tourist Visas. Upon entry to Mexico from Cuba 6 weeks earlier, we were issued a Tourist Visa allowing for a 30 day stay. When we crossed from Mexico to Belize, we paid a US$10 fee each to have our Visas suspended while we were out of the country, before re-entering from Gautemala. Unfortunately, our Visa was never suspended and the US$10 we each paid went to the tequila fund of the Chetumal Customs Officer. US$60 later we were issued a new tourist Visa, valid for one day which allowed us to then leave Mexico for Lima three hours later.

Lima represents the starting point for us on our pilgrimage along the South American ´Gringo Trail´ following in the footsteps of many friend´s travels in the previous year or so (Little Matt, Nicola & Jezza, Kate, Mike W, Julie & Geoff). And it is fair to say that all of them gave us the same advice – fly into Lima, sleep a night and leave! We will now add our voices to that advice. While there is nothing overly wrong with the place, there ain´t much right with it either.

Our two days here were spent taking in the historic centre of the city, wandering past chicken restaurant after chicken restaurant, being hassled by touts and being reminded by the friendlier locals at each turn that Lima was ´Muy Peligroso´ – very dangerous.

South from Lima, we hit the small town of Pisco, named after the national Peruvian drink (think of a fortified wine, but not as fortified as Italian Grappa – Brooooownnn!). We arrived on Fathers Day which saw many a local man with broad smile and beer in hand in the streets. A quick google later to ensure it was not the same in New Zealand, and we headed for yet another chicken restaurant.

From Pisco we took in the sights of the Paracas National Park, a desert peninsula and maritime reserve. Interestingly enough, artisanal fishing is still allowed in the marine reserve, and by artisanal we are not talking man in loin cloth with blow dart, but in fact men in 30 foot boat with scuba tanks (the Mayan people were technologically advanced). Paracas is also home to the mysterious ´Candalabra´ in the sand. Possibly made by Aliens, though more likely by locals each night with a decent rake...

In all our readings, both of us had managed to skip over the fact that much of Peru´s southern coast is desert. Thus we found our time in the park both surprising and interesting. The great scenery and wildlife were only interrupted by the world´s most annoying German in short shorts who insisted on recording every moment of the trip on his camera. This generally involved him clambering over you to get a better shot of what ever was on display.

From Paracas, we headed to the desert oasis of Huacachino, a very small town situated around a lake the size of a footy field, and surrounded by sand dunes of staggering proportions. Here we took to the ´101% total adrenal´ (every tour operator on our travels has a botched up translation to English in their advertising) dune buggy ride through the sand dunes. A fantastic blast through the sand was delivered, during which time we turned our hand to sand boarding.

The following day, we lined up a tour of three local wineries. Prior to being picked up, we had expected a group of 6 fellow travellers hitting a couple of pisco distillerys in an 8-seater. As it turned out, it was just the two of us with Harold in his pimped out (Peruvian styles) 68 Plymouth Satellite. Random as tour with the tasting room at the first winery closed for half an hour, then us pretending at the second and third wineries that we were fluent in Spanish as we toured the vineyards. Sampled some good drops along the way, getting mildy tipsy (it´s the altitude) and making a purchase of a nice Rose for some upcoming occasion (maybe breakfast).

And on to Nazca, home to the world famous Nazca lines (ancient patterns in the ground that are revealed when flown over). It seems every thrid person in Nazca has access to a Cessna and pilots license to take you on a flight of these attractions, so our first evening was spent sifting through the lies to find a good deal and decent operator. A booking made, despite the unwanted advances on Caroline by the tour operators eleven year old son with scabby lips, we rose early to get a view while the light was good.

Despite a two hour delay at the airport waiting in line behind another 30 planes doing the same tour, we spent 40 minutes flying over a dozen or so of the more prominent formations including the Astronaut, Monkey, Hummingbird and Condor. A fantastic experience and well worth the expense.

Further south from here to the Colca Canyons, and a little over a week now before we tackle the Inca Trail. Tasman Makos squad from 2007 has been named (www.makos.co.nz) for those interested, and big happy birthdays to John McKelvie (for your 50th) and Thomas Wilfred Michael Crouch (for your 24th).

Central America 101

Having left Central America, we thought we´d share a few of the random observations that we made during the past two and a half months.

Now any conversation engaged in with a local usually involved a question relating to where we are from. Over our time in Central America, three standard repsonses were prevalent to the news that we were from New Zealand:

1. Anchor Butter,
2. Big mountains, in Europe (maybe Switzerland), and our favoutie
3. Mucho Leché (lots of milk)

Having spent a bit of time in buses, one thing that stood out was the prevalence of vendors who´d board buses to sell their wares. This was first noiticed in Jamaica during a crazy mini bus trip across the island (just the 26 of us in a 15 seater). At the station, we were approached at the window by people selling everything from water and snacks to DVD cleaning kits. By the time we left Central America, it was natural to expect a bus to pick up a couple of vendors at one toll station and to drop them at the next one, 60 kms down the road, after they´d had an opportunity to pass off some wares to the travellers seated in the bus.

Spending over 70 hours on buses in the region also saw us cross over some 2,500 judder bars. Now Blenheim attracts a bit of criticism for it´s standard response to traffic engineering issues - build another roundabout (even if it is through the main trunk line). Well it appears that the traffic engineers in Central America are also short sighted in their responce to traffic issues, with the stock standard response being to build more judder bars. You will find these every coouple of kilometres along the main motorway, and if the bus driver isn´t alert, it makes for an interesting encounter at 100 kmph, as we found out in Gautemala when Mat found himself flung from his seat, to the roof and back down into the isle.

Travelling by bus allowed us to see a lot of the country side which, for the most part, was littered with rubbish (even in the US). The clever individual in Aotearoa in the 80´s that came up with the ´Keep New Zealand Beautiful´ campaign needs to be admitted toi the New Zealand Order of Merit because we now appreciate even more the simple addage of putting ones rubbish in the bin.

While travelling, we were imparted with some great advice by a seasoned traveller named Flash. When it comes to eating local food (we´re talking dirt cheap from the street side), Flash has gone 4 years without falling ill once. He attributes this fantastic record to washing meals down with a bottle of coke - if it can rot your teeth, it can kill any germ you´ve just consumed!

Thankfully, Central America loves it´s glass bottles of coke which we´ve added to the order with any dodgy looking feed. And God Bless Central America too for sticking with the glass bottle option - it is the only way to drink coke. And when we say glass bottles, we´re not talking about the 250ml variety found only in ponsy cafes in New Zealand for $3 - we´re talking up to a litre in size for no more than $1.

We´re getting better at ordering meals, but one thing alluded us completely during our Central American meal experiences - ordering an entree. Despite all our efforts, any percieved entree would be served either at the same time as the main fare, though in more instances, after the main fare. Nothing like a dozen wantans after your friied rice and ice cream dessert!

And now, to some ´Weary Traveller Oscars´...

$2 McChicken Tuesday Oscar for Cheapest Feed - Pan con Lechon (Pork sammies), Cuba. That´ll be US$0.04 a hit thanks.

Bevan Moriaty Oscar for Most Prevalent E-Mailer - Facebook (73 e-mails and counting). We´ve had friend requests, been poked, had a pie thrown at us and had our wall written on? We ignored the first friend request only to be lambasted by that friend (Señor Sinclair) and now just click yes to everyone of them. We will get onboard the ´Facebook´revolution in London...

Bradgelina Oscar for Best Place to Adopt a Kid - San Cristobal de las Casas, Mexico.

Telecom Oscar for Best Way To Communicate - Skype. Free, easy to use and available everywhere so far.

LTSA Oscar for Dodgiest Bus Trip - Kingston to Ocho Rios, Jamaica. Sure, squeeze another one in mon!

The ´I Can´t Believe It´s Not Butter´ Oscar for Biggest Load of Bull Proven True - Klausiano Pavarotii, Dive Instructor in Playa del Carmen, Mexico and confirmed heir to the Bayer Asprin fortune.

The Christchurch Polytechnic Oscar for Best Street Perfroming Effort - Father and son in Mexico City trying to juggle rings of fire on a rubbish bin pushed into the middle of a five lane road during the red light segments.

Pipi Foundation Waste of Money Oscar - CARICOM Visa to enter Jamaica. NZ$300 and wasn't even checked by customs.

The Thomas Crown Affair - Part 2

We left off having departed Oaxaca without the art purchase we´d hoped to make. Gluttons for dissappointment, we contacted Maria, our friendly art dealer to see why she hadn´t made it to our meeting point and enquire as to whether she could courier the art to us in Mexico. We were in luck, her husband would bring us a set to Mexico with him the next day. The next day came and went, and then it turned out there wasn´t a complete set - perhaps it could be sent to New Zealand in a months time! Persevering, we changed our flight to Lima to allow an extra couple of days in Mexico for the art to arrive, and to take in a Frida Kahlo exhibition.

6 days, 13 hours and 53 minutes after first seeing the art, and after 15 unsuccessful trips to the gallery, 8 phonecalls and 12 e-mails, we are now the proud owners of an almost complete set of prints (37 out of 38 ain´t bad). Mexican FedEx better not loose them en route to New Zealand...

We had a fantastic time in Mexico City which was nothing like anything we had expected it would be. Our first major outing was a day in Chaultepec, where we took in the monuments along Reforma Avenue, as well as 50 or so fantastic pieces of sculpture along the walk.

The rest of the day was spent in Chapaultec Park which is something akin in size to Hagley or Hyde Park, but within it´s boundaries one finds a number of musuems, galleries, monuments, and even a zoo. The zoo was a hoot, with one moment of hilarity involving two male kangaroos getting a bit frisky, though only one was consenting. For once, we and the Mexicans were laughing at the same thing, and not eachother.

As is regular in the reports relayed, we made another visit to ancient ruins, this time the ancient city of Teotihucan. Largely reconstructed, these ruins strecth for over a mile along an ancient (though now tarsealed) ´Avenue of the Dead´. The highlight at this site are two massive pyramids dedicated to the sun and the moon respectively.

The Zocalo in the heart of Meico City is home to a very impressive flag, measuring at least 40m in width. Each day, 6 military trucks arrive at 5.30 pm carrying armed troops and a marching band to lower the flag and pack it away for the night. This is a pretty impressive spectacle, and mildly humerous when the flag being lowered wraps itself round the pole, delaying the process. The band kept their cool though and launchesd into another verse of the national anthem while a crowd of a thousand watch on as the flag is re-raised and the fingers are crossed that it will not knot on the second attempt.

As a child, Mat was cruelly deprived by his parents of the opportunity to watch wrestling or collect wrestling cards. The end result of this has been an unhealthy interest in it as an adult, forcing his wife to catch snippets whenever he is surfing TV at home. Mexico City is the home of ´Consejo Mundial Luca Libre´ - masked Mexican wrestling as seen in the Jack Black movie Nacho Libre. Mat managed to convince Caroline that a night at the Luch Libre would dampen all future interest in the sport, so we headed out for the local Tuesday night tag team event.

Housed in a warehouse with three levels of seating, beside and above the ring, the mainly Mexican crowd feast on Tortas and Coronas as the excitement grows. The lights come up, the music starts, and into the ring enter a pre-pubescant announcer and the first of the wrestlers. What follows are 5 tag team matches featuring outrageous costume, dearing acrobatics and a few cringe moments. Highlights would have to be the 3 on 3 all girl tag team match featuring some terrible kits and one mannish looking wrestler named ´Lady Nazi´, and the final match where ´Dorado´ bought a dwarf with him to sit in his corner. Unfortunately, the dwarf copped a great fly kick to the ribs from ´Universe 2000´, sailed 3 metres out of the ring and was carried away by ring side attendants. A fantastic and hilarious night out, Mat´s interest is now intensified, as is Caroline´s.

After the wrestling we met with one of the masked warriors, Octagon, who was once ranked 7th in Mexico. A great guy, Octagon hosts a weekly show in Mexico called 'Ask Octogan', where he responds to viewer mail, lifting the veil on the life of the masked Mexican wrestler. We´ve included a new part on the bottom right of the Blog which is linked to 'Ask Octogan' for your enjoyment.

Our spirits in Mexico were dampened in final days after Mat was robbed in a central city market. As we moved through a central street, the path narrowed due to the presence of a number of street side stores encroaching on the pavement. As we passed by, a group of 6 (buff and toned) Mexican men closed the path on Mat. Caroline turned around to see him struggling through the group, who had managed to lift both of his arms away from his pockets. 20 seconds later, Mat realised why the path had become so closed and found his wallet gone. Not a major blow with US$160 stolen and credit cards cancelled within 20 minutes. We did get a ride to the police station in a police Ford F150 pickup truck which was a bit of fun, but not US$160 of fun.

For those of you who have made passing comment on the mo, we regret to inform that at 5.17pm local time on the 14th of June, the mo was pronounced dead. The 'Dirty Sanchez' was well respected in Mexico and made up for missing the last three Mo-Vembers with overseas work commitments. It´s last moments were enjoyed at a local cantina over a tequilla, the favourite drink of a 'Dirty Sanchez'. Fortunately, a shot of tequilla in Mexico is a free pour of tequilla into a brandy glass, so its last moments were drawn out as Mat fought to finish the drink.

From here, we depart Central America for Lima and the start of our South American Adventures. Apologies for the lengthy diatribe though hopefully it is worth a read for all you toiling away behind desks ahead of your own travels.

The Thomas Crown Affair - Part 1

We left you all in Gautemala, after which we made the border crossing back into Mexico and on to San Cristobal de las Casas (just the 11 hours crammed in a mini van, thats all). San Cristobal is another beautiful colonial town (read: numerous churches and cobbled streets), , but this one comes with a rebellios streak. Chiapas, the region within which one finds San Cristobal, is the home to the Ejército Zapatista de Liberación Nacional (EZLN), or more commonly known as the Zapatista movement. This post modern revolutionary moment is most widely known for their armed uprising against the Mexican military at the San Cristobal Zocalo (town square) in 1994 and the fact that their front line troops are primarily women, dressed all in black. The town and the movement also has some relation to the Cuban revolution, as Fidel Castro met Che Guevara in Chiapas while exciled from Cuba. Therefore, all across the city we found Zapatista inspired grafiti, Zapatista hand crafts and homage paid to Che and Fidel.

Apart from taking in the beautiful colonial sights of the city (again read: numerous churches and cobbled streets), we took to the Sumidera Canyons located an hour out of town. These Canyons reach a height of 400 metres, providing some pretty spectacular scenery. Unfortunately, the river that flows through the canyons is also the local dump, so the vista was often intervened by masses of rubbish floating in the water. The river is also home to some crocodiles which we stumbled upon late in the day. Mat thought the one we found was too big and too still to be real, so suggested we play along with the tour operator´s joke that it was a real crocodile. Apologies were made to all on board when he realised that the 3.5 metre croc was well and truly alive ('look at the size of em Terri').

Unfortunately things turned a little sour after the river boat cruise while perusing the local crafts at the market in Chiapa de Corozo, Mexico´s oldest town. Apparently one too many streetside tacos from the night before had taken their toll, and a small shart occurred. Nothing major, but a shart is a shart and the stats to the left reflect this. The clean up was a funny affair too, as the 3 peso local toilet came with no toilet seat and only 3 squares of one ply toilet tissue. You do the math! Fear not, the photo below is not of the shart, but of the joyous moments before...


From San Cristobal, we took an overnight bus to Oaxaca (pronounced Wo-ha-car), a city reccommended to us by Nic & Shane from Waikanae Beach and Jorge from Spanish lessons at the Waikanae community centre. Oaxaca is another beautiful colonial city (again read: numerous churches and cobbled streets), and the home of Mole, a Mexican dish of chicken (usually) with a chilli chocolate sauce made with 21 spices (think of a non-alcoholic and nice tasting version of Jagermiester for food). Nothing more can be said about this dish other than wonderful - 'Holy Mole' is the name of the restaurant we will be opening when we return home with an illegal Mexican immigrant in the bag.


We wearily decided to tackle another set of ruins from Oaxaca, making the journey to Monte Alban. Set a top a mountain overlooking the Oaxacan valley, these ruins have been extensively rebuilt and cleared of natural bush. While these ruins failed to make the playoffs for best ruins visited, they were still a spectacular sight and worthy of a visit. The centre of Oaxaca is the Zocalo, or town square. This place is a hive of activity, with restaurants lining it´s fringes and events within the square every night. While in Oaxaca we were able to catch some local middle aged woman doing a flower dance of some description, catch some tunes from the local symphony orchestra and join in a massive religous gathering of some note. Every night there was some other expression of the local culture which had our attention and had us thinking about the use of similar public spaces in New Zealand.


Finally, and the link to the title of this post, we made a memorable trip to the Oaxacan contemporary art musuem. A fantastic collection topped off with a brilliant shop within which we stumbled on to a set of four beautiful art prints. The 25,000 peso price tag did not appeal, but we asked to take a closer look at the prints. Soon we found that it was in fact a set of 38 prints, produced by 38 different Oaxacan artists on the 100th anniversary of the death of Jose Guadelupe Posada, a 19th century Mexican print artist. The price tag was still a little steep, but we were then informed of a local studio that was selling the complete set, unsigned, for 4,500 peso (US$450) - how convenient! ´Lets Buy It´ was the call, supported by a suggestion that it could be an ealry birthday present for Caroline and sit outside of the travel budget. Over three days we made 15 visits to La Curtiduria, the gallery in question, which remained closed at all times. Nothing major, just the equivalent of walking from Parliament to the Basin Reserve every time.


Dejected, we discarded our dream of owning a set of prints, until 8pm on a Friday night, when we were provided with a mystery phone number and the name Maria - perhaps she could help us out 12 hours before we were to leave Oaxaca. Maria could in fact help us - she owned La Curtiduria and would have a set ready for us in the morning. We waited at the Zocalo for her arrival, peso in pocket and bag for carrying prints at the ready, but alas, there was no sign and we departed for the bus station having wasted many an hour trying to locate a set of these prints. Our hopes dashed, we headed for Mexcio City 4,500 peso better off...



Happy Birthday to Meg, hope you have a wonderful day and enjoy the gifts to come.

You´re Not In Guatemala Now Dr. Ropata

We have left the Carribbean Coast and ventured inland to the country made famous in New Zealand in the very first episode of Shortland Street. The initial border crossing from Belize was a bit amusing as we found ourselves being offered a taxi to cover the 200 metres between the Customs building where we left Belize and the Customs building where we would enter Guatemala. The taxi driver walked with us for a hundred metres before realising we were half way there and probably would not need his services. No significant issues on entering apart from an un-official gringo tax of 10 Quitzals (US$1.40) which could not be waivered, even for Dr Ropata's compatriates. Guatemalais a beutiful country, where lush jungle in the northern part is interspersed with small townships and all along the roads, chickens, goats, pigs and horses wander unrestrained.

We spent our first night on a small island called Flores, located within a lake - Lago de Peten Itza. A quaint little town with some stunning vistas, Flores was only ever a stopover before our first major activity in our slimmed down Guatemalan itinerary, a visit to the Mayan ruins of Tikal. As far as stopovers go however, Flores was a beautiful place to meet some locals and try the local drop of amber ale, Gallo.

Having racked up a few ruins during our time in Mexico, we were generally looking forward to more of the same in Tikal. Arriving late in the afternoon, we dumped our kit and ventured straight in with instructions to head to El Mundo Perdido to catch a sunset. Upon entering the park, we soon realised however, that in terms of Mayan sites, we had entered hallow ground. After hiking through jungle filled with the sounds of howler monkey and toucan, we came across our goal and climbed the 44 metres to the top of the pyrimad. From there, our view across the jungle to the setting sun uncovered a series of other temples peeking above the forest canopy, all of which we'd walked within 100 metres of without actually seeing. We crashed the night in hammocks in the jungle, falling asleep to the sounds of Howler Monkeys clearing their lungs at regular 30 second intervals.

An early start the next day (4.15am) had us charging through the jungle to Temple IV to take in a sunrise. Unfortunately, low cloud and drizzle banished a view of the rising sun from our perch above the jungle, but still made for some memorable moments, including the discovery of a Tarantula Spider, 45 metres above the ground below. The rest of our time was spent exploring the numerous ruins in the area while hanging out with the resident howler and spider monkeys.

Following Tikal, we took our first overnight bus of the trip, powering south to Antigua, a colonial town an hour south west of Guatemala City. Our three days here were dominated by rain and low cloud as we explored this beautiful city and checked out a local coffee plantation. As you'll all know, the closest Mat gets to a hot drink is when he finds a misplaced Speights that has heated during a game of BYC, so it was somewhat amusing for Mat to down a couple of cups of the locally grown cofee, doubling his total lifetime intake.

Antigua is nestled in a valley and looked down upon by three classic conic volcanoes. Having waited three days for the weather to clear before heading up one for a look, we ended up having to pony up and tackle one in misty conditions as the weather failed to break. About 200 metres into the 5km climb, mist gave way to rain and a tough slog up Pacaya Volcano, Guatemala´s most active volcano.

Emerging from the forest to walk across lava flows, we soon found the ground beneath us heating up and large shrouds of steam surrounding us. Like a scene from 'Mission to Mars', each step waited on a break in the steam to ensure we were stepping onto solid terrafirma. Before too long, we came across a live lava flow, where we were able to stand no more than 5 metres away from it and watch the beautiful display of nature. A pretty impressive sight as a flow of lava the size of the Avon River moved by us at a slow pace.

Our guide up the volcano, Jose, is what we would commonly refer to back home as a 'Dickhead'. His interests were not in safely guiding a group up an active volcano in miserable conditions, but on spading 'chicos' and scampering ahead of the group so he could hide and (try to) scare us on our way past. When not doing this, he was lighting 'Double Happy's/Tom Thumbs (a throw back to the good old days of fireworks) and tossing them at inappropriate times (like on to the lava flow when one was trying to take in the serenity).

In his defence however, the Guatemalan approach to nature guiding is somewhat different to that which we expect back home. Safety is far from a guides mind, a fact best exemplified by the willingness to guide a 40 year old woman in torrential rain over active lava flows who was wearing Adidas three strypes, a cotton cardigan and a pair of Crocs (yes, unfortunately they have Crocs in Central America too). And the people they're guiding aren't always the full quid, as we witnessed when another dumb American girl (Tweedledim this time) decided she would poke the lava with her stick. She seemed somewhat surpised when her friend´s wooden walking pole caught alight, and even more surprised when the nylon backpack cover she was using to shield her face from the heat began to melt.

Upon return to Antigua, a 1.5 hour drive wet to the bone in our volcano climbing gears, we were lucky enough to find the cloud had lifted from one of the three volcanos in the valley, Volcano Agua. This provided a real sense of the beauty of this place and a great conclusion to our Guatemalan stay.

We now head north west and back into Mexico. We are re-routing to the north through San Cristobal de las Casas for two reasons - great reccommendations from fellow travelers and news of a tropical storm Barbara (US weather channel talking it up as a possible hurricane) that is tracking towards Salina Cruz, our intended destination.

Congrats to Mum/Pam on completing the half marathon at the weekend and go Team New Zealand.