A Bolivian Birthday

Our final blog entry on our travels in Bolivia begins with the white city of Sucre and Caroline's 28th Birthday. A night bus arrival into Sucre saw us find ourselves (again) in less than classy accommodations, something Caroline was a little un-impressed with given the significant event approaching. Never fear - Mat had used an hour of time on his own in Sucre to lay plans for a few birthday treats.

Caroline awoke to a birthday breakfast in bed of fresh fruit and yoghurt, accompanied by the smallest birthday candle available from the local market. A small gift of chocolates (Sucre is the chocolate capital of Bolivia - not a big undertaking, just need two chocolate shops to take that title) was un-wrapped, followed by news that a three and a half hour spa session (massage, facial, manicure and pedicure) had been booked.

While being pampered, Mat was able to pack up and vacate the dodgy accommodations from the night previous, and move into the best hotel room in Sucre at the Capital Plaza. The bathroom in the suite alone was bigger than all accommodations used in the previous 4 months, and came with a massive spa bath, real hot water (not heated by a dodgy element plugged into the wall) and a toilet with heated seat.


The walk in wardrobe off the bedroom would have housed a small Chinese family, while the super king bed and bigscreen TV were imported from nearby Argentina. The drawing room got little use, though the fridge was handy for keeping the banana splits chilled while the spa bath filled. A great treat after shared bathrooms and rooms that get no warmer than 3 degrees.


Birthday dinner consisted of a sunset, bottle of reisling (apparently - tasted more like chardonnay) and antipasto platters from the mirador above Sucre. A relaxing and semi-normal day was had before returning to the adventures of travelling.

Now anyone that has lived with Mat will know well his feelings on the financial cost of attending the movies in Aotearoa. Increases in the price of tickets and the cost of 'Tangy Fruits' at Hoyts which well outpace the rate of inflation raise Mat's temper to fever pitch. Thus, a chance to attend the movies within the third world economy of Bolivia was not to be missed.

For 25 Bolivianos, or NZ$4.00, we were able to both attend the new Fantastic Four movie - in english - with a drink each, a massive serving of microwave popcorn and chips (a far cry from the NZ$42.00 we would have been stung in New Zealand). The movie was not proceeded by advertisements for 'Mico Wakefield' or 'Martin Roberts Mitsubishi Motors', but a substantial series of previews, and while the movie was decidedly average, the resident cat in the movie theatre and low cost more than made up for it.

While our time in Sucre was pretty low key, we did manage a visit to the famed cemetary. An amazing place covering a city block, the cemetary begins with a series of impressive mausoleums, housing the remains of Bolivia's most influential families. These make way to a series of concrete coffin shelves - concrete walls which shelve coffins in rows. Coffins are shelved end first, stacked 7 high in rows of up to 100. Families take pride in ormenting the visible end of the coffin.

After about 50 of these structures (spots still available if interested), the cemetary concludes in a chaotic mess of headstones where the poorer are remembered. We'd like to say they're buried, but if this is the case, they'd have to be folded like origami to fit between plots or buried on top of each other.

During our final day in Sucre, we found ourselve amongst demonstrations to return Sucre as the full capital of Bolivia (it is currently only the judicial capital). With tens of thousands of people gathering to deliver their message, we found ourselves amongst an opportunity to rack up another appearance on foreign television. Caroline stepped up and followed the Bolivian reporting live from the rally like a bad smell, being rewarded with at least two waving and smiling appearances in the background of important interviews.

From Sucre, we flew through the mining town of Potosi, stopping for the cheapest meal of our travels thus far (NZ$1.00 for 2 hamburgers and 2 scoops of chips) and a tour of one of the local silver mines. The tour was very interesting, beginning with a visit to the market to pick up gifts for the miners. On offer was a litre of booze (96% alcohol - probably ethanol or left over fuel from the spaceship), a pack of ciggies, coca leaves (from which cocaine is derived - used to supress the appetitie and fatigue), dynamite or 2 litre bottles of soda.

After expressing to our guide that we didn't want to purchase gifts that would further contribute to the early death of more miners, we left with soda and coca leaves in hand and commenced the tour. The tour took us 2kms into the mountain to see operations first hand. Fair to say that the working conditions are tough and labour laws are relaxed at best - best exemplified by the two miners taking shots of ethanol in between wiring 12 sticks of dynamite together!

Our final act in Bolivia was to head to Uyuni and join four other travellers for a three day tour of the Uyuni salt flats and desert. Our fellow travellers - Sarah (art teacher) and Andy (chippy), a British couple cycling around Bolivia, and Jo (Kiwi travel agent) and John (British diver and professional photographer), a couple who've been travelling for a year to date - were a fantastic group and heaps of fun to be with for three days in a Toyota Landcruiser (interestingly, 24 out of 25 tour operators in Uyuni prefer Toyota).

The tour sets out from the Bolivian train cemetary, where a few dozen relics of the Bolivian rail system have been layed to rest in the desert. Of note was one engine with 'se necesita un mecanico con experienca' written on it. Loosely translated, 'In urgent need of a mechanic with experience'.

From here, it is on to the Uyuni salt flats, a massive lake of dried salt punctured by the odd isolated island covered in cactus. This amazing setting lends itself to trick photography, something we'd prepared for before leaving Uyuni - the results demonstrated below.

After a night in a salt hotel (everything - walls, beds, chairs - made of salt) our second day consisted of desert, volcanoes, lakes and flamingos which provided for some truly spectacular scenery. The only intrusion on these great sights were a dutch couple in another truck who we named 'Farty Dutchman' & 'Axeface'. He seemed to relish in farting continously while she, with the face only a mother could love, chain smoked her way through the trip.

After a chilly night at 4,600 metres, our final day began with an impressive visit to geysers and hot pools. Things turned awkward though at the hot pools when Farty Dutchman nuded up for a dip, farted some more before everyone in the thermal pool vacated - Axeface watching on with a lung-dart in each hand.

The final sight was the beautiful frozen green lake in the shadow of the impressive Volcan Licanabur. From here, we crossed into Chile, learning en route of another tour group that had driven the tour themselves after throwing their very drunken guide and driver from their Toyota Landcruiser on the second morning.

We're now in Chile, which has been a financial shock to the system after Bolivia. US$8 per night was the norm in Bolivia for a private room with queen bed - cheapest we've found here is US$24 for a set of bunks! And the local price for that is 12,000 pesos! Random...

We've therefore re-shuffled the itinerary to free up more time in Argentina where we've planned a rather hectic three weeks which will take us to Patagonia in the south. Just the 24 hour bus ride this afternoon to Santiago then...

Jungle Fever

We´re back now from a fantastic week amongst the Amazon jungle. Our entry point of Rurrenabaque (thanks soooo much to Miss Laurel Simm for that piece of advice) is an 18-24 hour long ´character building´ bus trip from La Paz on which sleep is impossible. With over 100 hours on buses under the belt each, we decided we had developed enough character already and opted for the 1 hour flight with Air Amazonas (think Sounds Air with Bolivian safety standards). We also opted to save our good clothing by purchasing a couple of US$10 kits from the local market, so please no comments on the appalling fashion sense in the Amazon.

The first three days of our Amazonian adventure were based in the Pampas (wetlands), a 3 hour drive from Rurrenabaque along a dodgy piece of dirt road. Joined by a Bolivian family of five from La Paz, a couple of members of the Swedish Volleyball Team and a Dutch girl, we set out on Bolivian time (an hour after the planned departure) with some dodgy sounds (we´re not so good on the mechanical speak) coming from the rear left of the van. Those sounds stopped a half hour in when the van shuddered to a halt and the left rear wheel overtook us and sped a couple hundred metres up the road.



After a half hour search for wheel nuts, the tyre and some other round and substantial piece of the wheel configuration (told you the mechanical speak wasn´t so good), we limped into a village to effect proper repairs. These involved discarding the large, round but unknown piece of wheel configuration (perhaps a disc break?) and angle grinding some new wheel nuts that didn´t actually fit. During the repairs, we we´re joined by a random villager in green stubbies who insisted on standing 2 metres away from the ladies and steering for 45 minutes. Repairs complete, we continued for the Pampas.


Our fellow travellers on the tour were a mixed bunch. At one end of the scale, we had the amazing Veronica and Sara from the Swedish Volleyball Team (and now known as Swede 1/Fartface and Swede 2/Baldy). Great girls, heaps of fun, incredibly funny and great travel buddies who we will miss. Then there was Amy from Holland - a screwed up unit with no manners and a thousand band camp stories based either on her 18 years of life in Holland or extensive two weeks of travelling! She is meant to be in Rio for two months of acrobatics training before returning home to become a surgeon (logically linked). Thankfully, she only shared the story of losing her virginity to her unemployed 34 year old boyfriend with Caroline and the Swedes as Mat´s ginger temper may have flared.

To get to our thatched hut in the Pampas, we undertook an additional three hour journey by riverboat. The trip provided plenty of sights, with hundreds of aligators lining the sides of the river, monkeys in the trees, turtles perched precariously on branches at the waters edge, fish jumping and magnificient birdlife at every turn. One of the more interesting pieces of wildlife are the Capybara, the largest living member of the rodent family. At a metre in height, and 100kg in weight, these things look exactly like Sylvanian Family toys.

Our second day started with an expedition in search of Anacondas in a swamp the size of Hagley Park. With very little instruction from the guide, we were released on our own reconaissance to see what could be found. A few hours in, with our guide nowhere in sight and our gumboots filled with stinky swamp water, the group was ready to pack it in. This was until Mat made a last ditch effort, relying on some snake whispering abilities, to see what could be uncovered.


Success came as Mat stumbled across an Anaconda sunning itself. Realising that the bit he could see was pretty large, Mat maintained a safe distance while he surveyed for the dangerous end (head) of the snake, which when found nearly prompted another shart. It´s head was the size of a fist, and was drawn back in a striking position. After motioning frantically for attention, Mat was forced to give a girlie shout for the guide to make an appearance. A Mexican standoff continued with the snake until it decided to head back into the swampy water - something Mat was happy to let it do.

The guide finally arrived 5 minutes later with a Cobra in hand which he had nearly stood on when he turned having heard Mat´s shout. After asking why Mat hadn´t grabbed it, he estimated it to be over 5 metres in length based on Mat´s description and probably best not grabbed by an inexperienced snake hunter (especially one who fears snakes). We were fortunate on the return journey that Swede 1 and Swede 2 had located another Anaconda (3 m in length) which the guide from our eco-tourism branded agency promptly man-handled and allowed us to photograph. Mat suggested a photo together if Caroline was prepared to hold the dangerous (head) end. After Caroline went solo on holding the threatening beast, Mat ponied up the strength to combat his fear and held it too.

The Pampas are home to the much fabled Pink River Dolphin. While the name may suggest some beautiful aquatic mammal, the reality is that these are the members of the dolphin family which fell from the ugly tree, only to climb it once more and fall again. An invitation to swim with them, despite the presence of a few Aligators, was taken up by Mat. Swimming with Pink River Dolphins is like swimming with yourself with there being no descernable interaction with these animals (though visibility in the river water is limited to about 10cm).

After climbing back on the canoe to join those not so excited about swimming with fugly dolphins and aligators, a water snake swam by in an awkward motion. A closer inspection revealed it had been wounded by one of the dolphins, perhaps in the dolphinly pursuit of protecting humans! Good thing too as while a swim with a pink river dolphin and the odd aligator was tolerable, there was no way Mat would have got in the water had he known there was a snake lurking.

Our remaining time in the Pampas were characterised by a magnificient sunset, followed by aligator wrangling and an impressive tropical storm which prevented a Piranha fishing expedition. The highlight of the storm came with a lightning strike in camp which sounded like a bomb blast, splintered a tree and moved the earth. The storm also meant our trip back to Rurrenabaque was a drawn out affair with a metre of sideways slide on the muddy road for every 5 metres of forward momentum.

The second part of our tour saw us head 4 hours up river (minus the annoying Dutch girl thankfully) and into the jungle. After the amazing animal life in the Pampas, this part of the tour was a little dissappointing, though still a fantastic experience. Walks in the jungle to learn about the medicinal qualities of the plants were great, as were the hundreds of butterflies and other insects on show.




The funniest moment came when our group asked to check out a vine swing over a creek which we´d heard of. We´d heard of it because a young English girl in another group had fallen into the creek, as shown to us by a Polish traveller who was pretty excited about having filmed it. The guide obliged, and Mat offered to go first.

Our Spanish has improved markedly, but is still not good enough to pick up on the subtleties of the instructions offered. Essentially, the missed aspect of the instructions were that it is nigh impossible to land on the otherside of the creek, and the idea is to swing across and back in one turn. Thus, when Mat attempted to land on the far side of the creek, the kinetic motion to the lateral was overpowered by the gravity motion, and Mat took a dip in water up to the nipples. The guide couldn´t believe his luck (2 gringos in the water in 24 hours) and had to excuse himself as he was laughing so hard. The Polish guy enjoyed it to as he´d tagged along to see if he could film people falling in again.


Back in Rurrenabaque, we awaited the inevitable news that our flight to La Paz would be delayed because of strike action in La Paz. We´re getting used to the inconvenience of strike action in South America now, though suspect that the La Paz strike of the whole population was more an effort to create a four day weekend with La Paz anniversary shouldering the weekend with the strike. We rode out our delay with a swim at a lookout overlooking Rurrenabaque, and by solving a crime. Wasn´t a hard crime to solve though....


While eating lunch, a Mungbean driving a red Mitsubishi Pajero managed to rear-end a parked Toyota Landcruiser on a paved street which could accomodate 4 cars in width. The impact caused the Toyota to roll 70 metres down the road. The Mungbean, after a quick inspection of his efforts, then drove off. A couple hours later, we came across a policeman and the owner of the Toyota, and were able to provide a license plate number and description - ´Loco gringo en rojo pajero, numero 1369APN´ (Crazy tourist in a red Pajero, number 1369APN).

Back in La Paz now and heading south towards Sucre this evening. Our thoughts go out to the family of Claire Solomon who we understand was murdered in a recent episode of Shortland Street. Good luck to the mighty Makos who tackle the amber and gold of the Naki this weekend in the opening round in the NPC (With Jack, Gear, Ralph and the boys should be a good win first up).
And happy birthday to Caroline who will be 28 tomorrow.... Wonder what that good-looking husband of yours has planned!

Froze Off Our Titi's and Our Caca's

We left you en route to Puno in the south west of Chile. If one was to accurately describe Puno, they may suggest it a candidate for sister city relations with Gore. Our arrival into Puno was via yet another night bus (though the video entertainment this time was certainly better – the only pig in it was in a bread sandwich, as apposed to man sandwich). The problem with night buses is that you arrive in the wee hours of the morning (5am in this instance), at which time surveying a series of accommodation options is far from one’s wish-list which usually comprises sleep, sleep and sleep as the three preferred options.

Thankfully, there are usually touts from hostals and hotels awaiting the arrival of night buses, so we usually find making an informed accommodation choice easy. This was the case in Puno, where a rotund Peruvian man had us in his car and heading for ‘Tumi II’ for ‘habitacione, con bano y TV por viente soles’ (private room with toilet, shower and TV for US$7), or so we thought. After a few hours kip, we woke to find we were not in the ‘Tumi II’, nor were we in a hostal of any description, let alone near the city centre. No sign of our TV, private bathroom or rotund Peruvian friend to explain the situation. A few hours later all was sorted - twas a hostal under construction, just 10 minutes walk to town, and we could use his lounge and TV at any time!


The only reason one visits Puno is to tour Lake Titicaca, a monster of a lake at high altitude – 3,810 m elevation and 13 times the size of Lake Taupo. The attractions here are the communities which inhabit the islands of Lake Titicaca. First stop were the Uros Islands which are floating islands made of dried reeds. The Uros people hid in the reeds of Lake Titicaca after the arrival of the Spanish (who could not see them from the Puno shoreside some 5 km away). As the Spanish set up shop in Puno, the Uros ended up having to live on the lake, so constructed islands from the reeds in which they hid. In addition to the islands, shelters and boats are also built from the reeds.




Today, while the Uros population is in decline, though some 800 still live on the islands, entertaining the daily throng of tourists. This means that the traditional reed islands, with their traditional reed huts and their traditional reed boats, are accompanied by the traditional solar panel and phone booth. In fact, the ‘7th Day Adventists’ have even thrown a church onto some floating pontoons which they’ve parked by the islands. The Mormon’s however wait onshore, trying to devise a way to bike across the lake.




Following our visit to the Uros Islands, we we’re hosted for a night by a family on Amantani Island. The Island has 17 communities which live by the general rule of reciprocity – ‘today for me, tomorrow for you’. Our family consisted of Aurora and her two children, Liz (12) and William (6). Our stay with them began with us trying to explain why we didn’t need to purchase more alpaca wool hats, was followed by an iPod slideshow of photos of friends and family in New Zealand to the sounds of the Patea Maori Club (Poi-E), contained several meals of Quenua Soup (Quenua means ‘crap’ in English), included a night of dance in traditional Amantani dress, and ended with us giving gifts sourced from the local 24-7 (food for the family, chocolates for the children and a matchbox car for the William) which were warmly received. We had a fantastic time, and despite the expressions in the photo below (had just eaten Quenua Soup for the millionth time), assure you that Aurora, Liz & William enjoyed our company (all three have pledged their support to the Tasman Makos for the up-coming season).



While on Amantani Island, we were treated to some pretty special weather. Having carried our jackets with us for a month of dry season without any suggestion of rain, we decided to leave the jackets in Puno for our time on Lake Titicaca. This decision was promptly followed by rain, hail, a little snow, gale force winds and some pretty mean waves. The storm was one of the worst in 5 years, destroying the newly built floating wharf. There was a long enough break in the weather to meet some local kids and for Mat to join in a game of football and show why New Zealand are no threat on the world stage.





Our final visit was made to Taquille Island where all is learnt by the colour of the hat and dress. An all red hat on a man – unfortunately for the ladies he is married. A red and white hat on a man – this one is on the market ladies. Extremely colourful hat on a man – he’s the Mayor – don’t know if he’s married or not but he is the only one on the island drawing a salary so ladies may as well have a crack. Ladies in black skirts are off the market boys, and we would suggest leaving the ones in coloured skirts (single) with children alone too.


Back in Puno, we made the most of our last evening in Peru by ordering the local delicacy of ‘Cuy Chactado’ from one of the posher restaurants (the one with table cloths). Cuy Chactado is Guinea Pig, cooked whole and served with vege. Our dish was thankfully cut down the centre, making it slightly more appealing than that which is served as it would emerge from the cage. Taste wise, a pretty bland affair, and nutritionally speaking, we expended more energy trying to find meat on it than we gained from eating any meat we found. Onwards to Bolivia….


What was meant to be a 6 hour bus trip to La Paz (Bolivia) changed dramatically an hour in when we came across further strike action by the militant Peruvian PTA (see the last blog). We must have arrived only an hour after they started the latest strike which involved blocking the only bridge between Puno and the Bolivian border. The blockade involved a few hundred teachers, burning tires, a burnt out truck cab, and any sizeable rocks they could get their hands on (which were then covered in petrol and oil, ready to be set alight if the Police moved in).


Our bus driver thought the delay would only be an hour, but after we watched (while eating popcorn!) a dozen policemen make no inroads into the protest, we decided to join a couple of Brits and leg it towards the border. The protesters had no problems with tourists crossing the picket-line/bridge, so after a 3 km walk (the length of road covered in rocks and burning tires), we made it to waiting collectivos (mini buses that drive specific routes). This got us as far as the border, then another collectivo from the border to Cocacabana where we waited 2 1/2 hours for a bus to La Paz. This bus lasted an hour before we were ordered off and onto a barge to cross Lake Titicaca and back onto the bus (which went on a separate barge) for La Paz. 5 hours later than expected, we arrived into La Paz after a bus, walk, collectivo, customs, collectivo, long wait, bus, barge and bus!


La Paz, the highest capital city in the world, where you can play golf at the highest golf course, eat pizza at the highest pizza restaurant and support soccer at the highest stadium in the world (a simple marketing strategy that lures thousands of gringos daily). Our time here has been spent exploring this city by foot, taking in the multitude of markets on offer and making plans for the rest of Bolivia. The city itself is an interesting prospect, built within a narrow valley, it is an urban designers nightmare. Traffic, which consists of chicken buses and a million collectivos, is funneled down a few main routes, causing massive jams and instant pollution. Crime is unfortunately rife, with two narrow misses ourselves.


Walking through the markets, Caroline was spat on in a common scam where compassionate Bolivians come forward to help clean and console you (after you’ve been spat on), during which time they steal your wallet. Thankfully, all Caroline had in her wallet was some hand sanitizer and the spitter got a verbal ‘F*ck Off You C%nt’ from Mat as he exited across the road. The second miss saw Mat’s day pack opened as we walked down the street. The assailant however wasn’t interested in the smelly sports shoes at the top of the pack (and would have got a similar verbal serve had it been noticed). We’ve now taken extra security precautions with another padlock for the day bag and a ‘Travel Talisman’ from the local witches market.

The big ticket item for us in La Paz has been a little mountain bike ride (this is how we explained it to the parents in earlier e-mails). When we say little, we actually mean a 65km downhill ride from La Cumbre (4,800m elevation) to Coroico (1,000m elevation) along ‘The Worlds Most Dangerous Road’. A new road was recently opened, but prior to that, 300 people would die annually on this 65km stretch of dirt road with extreme dropoffs, single-lane width, and no guardrails. In fact, in 1983, one accident on the road claimed in excess of 100 lives.


So with this in mind, we decided Friday the 13th would be the perfect day to mountain bike it (did we mention 10 tourists have died mountain biking it!). We lined ourselves up with a reputable new company (B-Sides for those of you travelling) with more guides than other companies and great bikes (Dual suspension Iron Horse Yakura Ojiki with Hayes disc brakes, Manitou suspension, E-Thirteen Shimano componentry and Husselfelt handlebars…. Oh oh ohhhhh – a lame Tim the Toolman Taylor impression).


The ride was challenging, but at no stage unsafe (thanks to the great guides). Fatal accidents mainly involving vehicles coming up and down the road used to be very common but they have recently built a new road so we didn´t see too much traffic!. We did however hear of an Irish guy last week that was going too fast and literally rode off the side and had to be winched out of a tree that broke his fall into the valley below! The congratulatory beer at the completion was both well earned and well received.

Tomorrow, we take a dodgy flight (think ‘Sounds Air’ without safety guidelines) to Rurrenbacque where we plan to spend a week in and around the Amazon Jungle. Apologies for the length of post but we’re having too much fun not to share, and as many of our readers are in full time employment, expect you have plenty of time to read! And ‘Big-Ups’ to the tasman Makos who destroyed the Northland Taniwha in Whangarei 25 -22. A sure sign of things to come in the up-coming NPC…

Ps. There is a feature that lets you post comments. After two people have slogged 45 kms on an ancient trail at altitude, and then raced back down the mountain to write you all a blog, this feature should be used. i.e. ‘Congrats guys, huge effort, you both look so hot right now! Especially you Mat’