http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/en-EUhttp://backend.userland.com/rss092http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/http://data5.blog.de/design/preview/6a/2164e8cdca60c1c69f2cb1636f72c4_160x200.jpg <p>In case you were wondering, I'm not still down that mine. The trip has finally ended, it's just taken a while for us to wrap this up. We left Bolivia in early April taking in one last tourist attraction - real life dinosaur footprints! Then we headed back to Sao Paulo where it was still raining. Very hard. From Sao Paulo it was only a 12-hour flight back to Heathrow's shiny new Terminal 5. Here we saw the bleary eyes and frayed nerves (can you see frayed nerves?) of staff who had probably spent the past week dealing with angry travellers. We heard one German man confronting a Heathrow operative with the warning, 'I can get a little spicy'. He had just taken a picture of something and they wanted him to delete it. Terminal 5 still had some problems but they didn't hold us up and we got back to Manchester where we kicked back and relaxed by unpacking lots and lots of boxes.<br> Considering that this blog could have been called 'Look at us and our fantastic year-long holiday', I'm surprised so many people have taken the time to look at it and send us comments. So thanks very much for that, it was much appreciated.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/05/21/title-4203626/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/05/21/title-4203626/Wed, 21 May 2008 16:07:56 +0200 <p><img src="http://data5.blog.de/media/339/2537339_081149a573_s.jpeg" alt="DSC04547" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> A long, long time ago when we were somewhere in Africa, my friend Tom sent this comment:</p> <p>'Didn't realise we could ask questions! Apologies if this has gone before.<br> So - toilets - describe them and (any) available bog roll and experiences of reactions of your different stools with different paper types. Also, how many sheets do you get in public lavs where you have to pay to use them (an average will do).<br> A top five would be useful.'</p> <p>Well, a wise American called Dean once said to me, 'it always comes down to toilet stories'. So it felt appropriate to end with these thoughts. Most of the toilets weren't too bad. I was a bit worried about spiders and scorpions in the corrugated iron shack-style latrines found in deserty places, but we never saw any. The public lavs were even quite generous with the paper, giving out about 20 sheets on average. The revelation was South America where all paper goes in a bin, not down the toilet. This is quite odd at first but you get used to it, aided by signs that say things like, 'please use the wipe and fold method'.<br> However, the toilet experience wasn't always a walk in the park so we've listed some of the unpleasant/memorable experiences below.</p> <p><img src="http://data5.blog.de/media/338/2537338_26391bacdb_s.jpeg" alt="holidaypics 225" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> (Lord of the Rings fans may be interested to note that this picture shows a toilet at the foot of Mount Doom in New Zealand.)</p> <p>We were on a mini bus with some well-to-do Ethiopians. When we stopped at a hotel in dingy town a trendy young girl rolled up her trousers up before going in. When I went in I realised why.</p> <p>Stopped at a bar on a dusty road in Ethiopia (again). It was really hot, we were standing in the shade drinking coke and attracting the interest of some really poor kids. The owner had good English and spoke proudly about his love for the BBC World Service. But he looked embarrassed when Amanda asked to use the toilet. He said, 'You cannot go, it's not fit for a lady'. Amanda wasn't taking no for an answer and we walked down a long dark corridor lined with windowless mudbrick rooms. Right at the end there was a tiny door a bit like the one in Alice in Wonderland, but this was no wonderland. It opened into a tiny dark smelly room that simply had a hole. 'It was a bit forbidding’, said Amanda.</p> <p>What’s the old adage? It’s better to be inside pissing out than outside pissing in? One Ethiopian (again!!) clearly disagreed. I spotted him standing at a toilet doorway pissing straight into the room rather than walking to the urinal. </p> <p><img src="http://data5.blog.de/media/305/2537305_8d9cf1283f_s.jpeg" alt="mountainloo" vspace="5" hspace="5"></p> <p>While squatting behind a bush on the banks of the Zambezi I check for dangerous animals. I look up and see a gaggle of curious baboons watching me from about 20 metres away. They were staring, perhaps thinking; ‘what on earth is he doing?’</p> <p>When we stayed with Seble’s mum in Axum her two toddler grandsons Adu and Musi were always causing trouble. I recorded one incident in my diary. ‘Musi does a dump in the front yard and Adu carries it into the house in a sheaf of paper. Amanda genuinely thinks it is a generous helping of chocolate cake. Adu hits Musi (who stinks) then points at me and tries to hit me! He thinks I did it too!’ </p> <p>On the way to the Serengeti we stopped for a drink in a dusty Tanzanian town. The toilets were somewhere around the back of the bar. Amanda gave me the directions but I went to the wrong place and breezed confidently through someone’s back yard, smiling at a group of women doing their washing before using the family's toilet. They didn't seem to mind.</p> <p>Ethiopia comes out badly on this list. I think their toilets just made the biggest impression because it was the first place we went to. Sadly, the world is full of shabby toilets. But please don't take that as my Jerry Springer-style summing up of the world trip. I'm still working on that one.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/05/19/stool-report-4193921/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/05/19/stool-report-4193921/Mon, 19 May 2008 14:17:14 +0200 <p>The Bolivian silver mines of Potosi are a popular tourist destination. I found this hard to believe. They´re dangerous, working mines where 16th century techniques are still used. There are explosions, cave-ins and poisonous gases. The tour group disclaimer states: "Even taking all precautions there is a chance an accident can occur… in the case of a cave-in you will be in as much danger as the workers in the mine (more miners die from cave-ins than any other cause)". The mines are buried inside a mountain at about 4,500m. In dusty, cramped conditions the altitude can make it even harder to breath. I reassured myself with the thought of our friend Bec going down the same mines a year ago, and she returned unscathed. When I got on the bus I saw 11 of the 16 tourists were women, many of them sturdy looking young Danes.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/454/2448454_6a952044db_s.jpg" alt="miner" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/456/2448456_5ca6fec9f4_s.jpg" alt="Miners wagon" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> We were taken to the miners´ market and encouraged to buy gifts, you know the kind of things - sticks of dynamite, ammonium nitrate, detonators as well as fizzy pop and coca leaves. So 16 of us got back on the bus dressed as miners (complete with hat and lamp), each carrying one of these goodie bags. I was just thinking about the 16 sticks of dynamite when the driver shouted at us not to leave them on the floor in case they got too hot.<br> There are hundreds of different mines here, all in Cerro Rico, which means rich mountain. Its conical, red peak overshadows Potosí, apparently the highest city in the world. Silver has been mined here for about 450 years and most of it was taken away to enrich the Spaniards who used forced labour to get hold of the booty. It´s estimated that as many as eight million people died in the mines by 1800. The majority were indians, but there were also thousands of African slaves. They often worked 48-hour shifts sustained only by coca leaves. Initially the Spanish took a dim view of this habit and the Catholic church pushed for an outright ban. But they soon noticed how much more productive it made the workers. It was legalised and taxed so they could squeeze even more out of the slaves who were now working to pay for the thing that sustained them.<br> We walked into one of the older, more secure mines. The tunnel was about 5ft high and lined with hissing airpipes, carrying oxygen deep into the mountain. After about 50m we stopped at a small museum, basically a cave with a few exhibits. There was a statue of the devil - every mine has one. El Tio, or the uncle, is considered to be the spirit of the mountain and these Catholic miners worship him when they enter the mines. Their attitude is: we´re now in the underworld where God has no influence. They give the Tio offerings like cigarettes (see pic) and coca leaves. Once a year a llama is sacrificed and its blood is thrown across the entrance to the mine. This ties in with traditional Andean beliefs where sacrifices were supposed to keep the gods happy. “The more llama blood, the less miners´ blood,” explained our guide.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/455/2448455_cf93a38e7e_s.jpg" alt="Miner Jim" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/457/2448457_4fc7003ef6_s.jpg" alt="Tio" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> We headed further down the tunnel following trolley tracks and reached a very low passageway leading to a hole that took us down two levels. Clambering down here was more like potholing. It was getting hotter and dustier and I kept banging my head. A few people turned back. We reached a more open tunnel but here men were straining behind lurching two-tonne trolleys laden with ore. We pinned ourselves to the walls listening to the ominous rumble getting closer. Then the men´s headlamps appeared and they passed by, two at the front, two at the back, all diagonal in their exertions. All the faces I saw were those of teenagers.<br> We followed them to a cave where men shovel the ore into baskets which are pulled up to higher levels. We didn´t get to see the work at the rock face and didn´t hear any explosions inside the mountain, apparently because it was a Saturday. So we started to head back up, back up through the narrow, steep passageway. This was the hardest part, scrabbling upwards on all fours, feeling the roof of the tunnel on my back. It was hot and dusty and I couldn´t get enough air. I was gagging on the scarf I was wearing around my face to keep the dust out and my legs turned to jelly. When we stopped to rest I still couldn´t breath properly. I was reassured by the fact everyone seemed to be in a bad way, and we`d only been down there about an hour. Once on the exit tunnel I could feel the cooler air and started to relax, then the guide behind me said, ´hurry up now please´, in one of those self-consciously calm voices that betray panic. A trolley was coming, I didn´t know which way, but started to run, lolloping through the tunnel and banging my hat on overhead rocks and beams. Outside I felt ridiculously exhausted and we watched as the guides let off some dynamite – just for a laugh.<br> Kids as young as 10 work in some of these antiquated mines and most miners only last 15 to 20 years before they´re coughing up blood with silicosis.<br> “About 40 miners die from accidents every year,” said the guide, “but many more die outside the mines from lung diseases.”<br> He explained how about 15,000 miners work in the mountain, all in different co-operatives. Silver is now scarce but zinc and lead make it worthwhile. On average these men make about 135 quid a month, about the same as a teacher.<br> “We know of the dangers, but in Potosi there is no alternative,” he said.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/04/03/blood-on-the-tracks-3991350/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/04/03/blood-on-the-tracks-3991350/Thu, 03 Apr 2008 16:46:06 +0200 <p><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/410/2448410_8420c8a58a_s.jpg" alt="Salt pyramids" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/404/2448404_80bb6193a9_s.jpg" alt="Jimandy" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/406/2448406_7e1efdfa73_s.jpg" alt="mandie car" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/422/2448422_71420c81f9_s.jpg" alt="Sunset" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> These are pictures of the Uyuni salt flats, the largest in the world at 4,000 square miles, apparently the size of Switzerland. About 40,000 years ago the whole area was part of a giant lake part of which evaporated, leaving these flats. (Some 60 million years ago the South Atlantic came inland to this point, forming a massive gulf from the coast of present day Argentina. The lake was created when the Andes were formed). A few metres down there is still water but the salty crust is tough enough to support people and vehicles. Men mine the salt, scraping it into small pyramids which are later shovelled into trucks (pic above). They take out about 25,000 tonnes a year. We travelled across the flats to an island where ancient cacti sprout from this rare patch of soil. One is thought to be 1,200 years old.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/453/2448453_49b1389ba7_s.jpg" alt="Cacti view" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/403/2448403_198a8e96c7_s.jpg" alt="Cacti Jim" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> The surface of the island is covered in fossilised coral (once on the sea bed) which sits on top of volcanic rock. The flats are surrounded by extinct volcanoes and we spent the night in the shadow of one of them, its reddish caldera illuminated by the setting sun. Our accommodation was a salt hotel, so called because it was completely made of salt, apart from the roof. The walls were built with bricks cut from the flats which looked like breeze blocks and the floors were covered in loose salt. In the dining room the tables and chairs were also cut from salt (pic below). It was all quite rudimentary and a bit nippy but quite a strange experience, especially when you´re looking around for some salt to have on your dinner.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/408/2448408_8d87a3a955_s.jpg" alt="Salt Hotel" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> The next day we rose at dawn to catch the sun bursting across the flats.<img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/412/2448412_447939e68e_s.jpg" alt="Sunrise blurred" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/407/2448407_db11f3d31f_s.jpg" alt="Morning Jimmi" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/409/2448409_83efb46434_s.jpg" alt="Salt legs" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/421/2448421_a09b53ac3e_s.jpg" alt="Sunrise Salt landscape" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> Later we walked up to the volcano. Looking back the wide band of white looked more like a low strip of cloud rather than a permanent feature below the horizon. The landscape was hard to comprehend. On the way up we stopped at a tomb where there were eight mummies. This is all that´s left of a small village dating back to around 600AD. It´s thought that the village died out following a long drought. Some hair and skin were visible on the remains and locals still come up here to give offerings like coca leaves. We didn´t hang about.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/04/03/salt-of-the-earth-3991050/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/04/03/salt-of-the-earth-3991050/Thu, 03 Apr 2008 15:50:46 +0200 <p> Forgot to add this to the Machu Picchu entry. We`d got up before 5am to get the train and I went to brush my teeth. Luckily I'd had a shower the night before.<img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/120/2426120_c3d0c16803_s.jpg" alt="scorpion" vspace="5" hspace="5"> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/03/24/jimmi-quick-look-at-this-quick-3927984/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/03/24/jimmi-quick-look-at-this-quick-3927984/Mon, 24 Mar 2008 01:13:44 +0100 <p>We continued south to Iquique for the sole reason of visiting an old sodium nitrate mine, now a decrepit ghost town. It`s called Humberstone after James Humberstone, a man of Kent who managed this site for some time in the early 20th century. Production stopped in 1960 and everyone left, so now it`s possible to walk the empty streets, peer into empty houses, prance around on the theatre`s stage, walk through the spooky hospital, sit in the schoolrooms, hang about in the hotel`s ballroom and stare at the rusty, iron-bottomed swimming pool. Humberstone, like Iquique is in the Atacama desert. It never rains. The buildings are decaying but well-preserved.<br> Before the Germans invented synthetic nitrate during the first world war there was huge demand for this mineral, known as white gold. A lot of British entrepreneurs got in on it, including one man from Leeds called John T North, who was known as the Nitrate King. Conditions were terrible for workers and at Humberstone they were paid in tokens, redeemable only at company shops, until 1929. All the fancy amenities like the pool and the theatre were built in the late 1930s when the management appeared to have softened up a bit. Even the medical care was free. They must have lost their marbles.<br> This place is now a Unesco World Heritage Site - just like Machu Picchu. There are other mines dotted about the desert. One was used as a concentration camp during Pinochet`s regime and is apparently still surrounded by land mines.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/195/2426195_e03fe50c42_s.jpg" alt="mine" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/196/2426196_f089f8de5a_s.jpg" alt="mine2" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/197/2426197_3232dd5f25_s.jpg" alt="mine3" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/198/2426198_b02343d868_s.jpg" alt="mine5" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/199/2426199_bc8d441d27_s.jpg" alt="minejim" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/200/2426200_9783dac1a1_s.jpg" alt="thetre" vspace="5" hspace="5"></p> <p>Iquique is also completely rain free. "It never rains", said an ice cream man who had spent 20 years living in Swindon. When we told him where we were from he said, "Liverpool... Manchester... grey... grey..." I thought he was saying "great! great!" then I noticed how he was wistfully shaking his head as if taken back to a regrettable or traumatic experience. You see, in Iquique the sky is brilliantly blue everyday, the light is clear and it`s not even too hot.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/131/2426131_f8a3201ef0_s.jpg" alt="sunami sign" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/129/2426129_8d552fa679_s.jpg" alt="soup" vspace="5" hspace="5"> There`s always a nice cool breeze because of the sea. He said the city`s water comes from the distant mountains through underground rivers. But he thinks they`re being poisoned by the multinational copper mining companies that use millions of litres of desert water then dump contaminated waste back into the water table. The world`s biggest open cast copper mine is a few hours from here. It`s part-owned by Xstrata - listed on the London Stock Exchange. I`m going to have to buy some shares and represent the ice cream man at the next annual meeting.<br> On Iquique`s streets the weatherboard buildings are well-preserved by the weather. The paint is blistered and peeling but they still look graceful and stylish - like they might belong in New Orleans or a Western. We walked the length of the town to a great seafood restaurant (see soup picture) and were surprised to see hundreds of storks a group of sealions lounging by a stinky dock. We had gone to great lengths in New Zealand and Argentina to see wildlife like this and here they were sunbathing on empty water bottles and plastic bags. There were about 13 of them, some very large males with very lion-like roars. They stay here because the fish sellers dump all the leftovers for them. We watched as one man threw fish heads into one of the big male´s waiting mouth. Another just stretched out on a freshly dumped pile of fish. More like pigs in shit than graceful sea life.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/122/2426122_e37f18b3bb_s.jpg" alt="sealion" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/128/2426128_19d8835002_s.jpg" alt="sealions" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/126/2426126_b1f70f4a9f_s.jpg" alt="sealion2" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/127/2426127_8165734807_s.jpg" alt="sealion3" vspace="5" hspace="5"> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/03/24/animals-and-nitrate-3927915/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/03/24/animals-and-nitrate-3927915/Mon, 24 Mar 2008 00:50:31 +0100 <p>It´s 4am and we´re stumbling off a Peruvian bus. A man is shouting, "Arica, Arica". This is where we´re heading, just over the Chilean border. He offers to take us, but the border doesn´t open until 6am. We go anyway and see what happens. He leads us in the darkness to his 1980s American car. It´s a Pontiac with a bench seat across the front and a gear lever sticking out of the dashboard. There are two others in the car also heading for Arica. At least I hope they are. I hope they´re not part of a kidnapping gang preying on sleepy tourists. I try and stay awake just in case. It takes five minutes to get out of town, the driver has some kind of Classic Spanish Gold pop station on the radio. As a Spanish Nancy Sinatra croons and what looks like the Atacama passes by I feel like I´m in a Quentin Tarantino film.<br> At the border the driver switches off the engine (he leaves the radio on) and we sit in the darkness waiting for 6am. Amanda´s asleep, I watch as the yellow moon goes down and the sky brightens to the east. At 6am the driver leads us in a rush through customs. This is our 17th overland border crossing but his guidance confuses us. We stand there looking like we don´t know what a passport is for. Amanda leaves a bag in the car and has to go through again. They tell her off and confiscate some peaches. We´re through and it´s 8am in Chile. One of the other passengers is detained so we leave without him. It´s a short drive to Arica. The sun is bright and the Pacific hoves into view, there´s a disco instrumental on the radio, it sounds like Barry White´s going to break into song.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/210/2426210_49dbb90bb5_s.jpg" alt="atacama" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/211/2426211_5db3555b06_s.jpg" alt="atacama2" vspace="5" hspace="5"> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/03/22/chile-slight-return-3922001/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/03/22/chile-slight-return-3922001/Sat, 22 Mar 2008 19:21:24 +0100 <p>We left Cusco heading south and aiming for Chile. But before we re-entered that country we wanted to visit the Colca Canyon, one of the biggest in the world. Apparently it´s just over 1,000m down, twice as deep as the Grand Canyon and is famous for the condors that circle in the morning. But it´s a tricky place to get to. First, a three-hour bus journey on the highest road I´ve ever been on. It took us up to 4,800m, that´s three miles and only about 700m lower than Mount Kilimanjaro, Africa´s highest mountain! We both felt a bit light headed and were glad to descend. We were lucky to go on the old road and pass by Peru´s most active volcano, Ubinas, which was smoking for us.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/133/2426133_95c1434376_s.jpg" alt="volcano" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/214/2426214_c93cb0adf9_s.jpg" alt="woman bus" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> From the town of Chivay there´s a two-and-a-half hour journey on an unmade road. But the bus is in demand and we stood in an orderly queue that convulsed everytime a bus pulled in.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/169/2426169_c248266248_s.jpg" alt="ladies" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/117/2426117_06908a7ea6_s.jpg" alt="emboidary" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> The men and women, mostly in stetsons (the men) and delicately embroidered hats, skirts and waistcoats (the women) grabbed everything and threw themselves at the coach door. This happened about three times before we got on one. As it stopped in villages further down the road some men clambered on the roof (and this is a typical National Express-style coach). That night we stayed in a small town at the top of the canyon, sleeping in a converted barn and eating by candlelight in a small bar. We were up at 5.30am to walk to the canyon and hopefully see some condors. We saw a few but the canyon was the star, its steep sides home to impossibly isolated villages. We sat and looked upon the distant river as villagers passed us, leading their donkeys along ancient trails.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/115/2426115_a8f43ed64e_s.jpg" alt="colcadawnS" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/116/2426116_aeeb6ca322_s.jpg" alt="colcamandaS" vspace="5" hspace="5"> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/134/2426134_d9f2589470_s.jpg" alt="woman street colca" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/114/2426114_b4088a9c04_s.jpg" alt="colca view" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/119/2426119_3b5e823fa7_s.jpg" alt="jimcolca" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/113/2426113_11794bc631_s.jpg" alt="colca dawn" vspace="5" hspace="5"></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/03/22/canyoning-3921932/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/03/22/canyoning-3921932/Sat, 22 Mar 2008 19:05:11 +0100 <p><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/444/2413444_09de170541_s.jpg" alt="usandfriend" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/426/2413426_10e09bbf22_s.jpg" alt="piccuview2" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> So we slogged our way over the high plains to Cusco, an ancient Inca city. It´s also considered to be the gateway to Machu Picchu another anicent Inca city which has become Peru´s most famous tourist attraction. Lots of people do the Inca Trail, a four-day trek over the mountains, but we decided to get the train (we did walk up the mountain - see pic below of zigzag road). I never knew you could catch a train. I imagined Machu Picchu to be completely isolated and that´s why everyone walked there. Although it´s perched on a ridge between two steep mountains, in a steep valley full of big mountains, a train snakes along by the river and buses run between a small town and the site. There´s even a luxury hotel up there. It may not be as isolated as I expected but it´s still very special. The site is stunning as you can see from the pictures and lived up to the hype.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/441/2413441_98ac3dee6d_s.jpg" alt="terrace" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/407/2413407_623e5cd78b_s.jpg" alt="mandysteps" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/418/2413418_8bc19bdc73_s.jpg" alt="meMPview" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> It didn´t even feel like there were too many people there and we roamed around looking at the houses and temples and climbed Wayna Picchu, that impossibly steep peak that looms behind us in the pictures. Even this mountain is covered in terracing, they terraced everything. It took us two hours return, up very steep narrow steps(see pic below) and we had to crawl through a small tunnel at the top. From Wayna Picchu you can look down on the city and see that it was built in the shape of a condor. The current thinking is that it was a summer retreat for one of the Inca kings. Although it feels very high up, it´s 1,000m lower than Cusco and has a better climate. It also had religious significance and there are many temples here as well as a very rare stone sun dial. It´s not really a sun dial, it´s more of an astronomical tool, but that´s what the guides call it. The Incas used the stars for their agricultural planning and they used this tool, which is in the shape of the southern cross, to read the stars. It´s rare because the Spanish found many like this and, appreciating their significance, smashed them up.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/423/2413423_163032b402_s.jpg" alt="MP3" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/419/2413419_3101e1cb40_s.jpg" alt="moontemple" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/406/2413406_866459685d_s.jpg" alt="llama2" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/424/2413424_a340d5ebda_s.jpg" alt="MProad" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> Fortunately the Spanish never found out about Machu Picchu. But while they didn't get the chance to take it for what they could, a British company is making the most of its opportunity today.<br> Orient Express Hotels, based in London, listed on the New York Stock Exchange and registered to a tax haven in Bermuda, runs the rail monopoly between Cusco and Machu Picchu. It´s a four-hour journey and a return fare for the most luxurious seat costs about $140. We caught it from the closest station an hour-and-a-half from the site and paid $62 each. This was the "backpacker/economico" ticket. And this is in a valley where you can get a three course lunch for about 50p. Although the pricing is cynical I can understand the Peruvians making the most of this asset. I just don´t understand why the government has signed away the 30-year rights to a foreign company. I think it´s a joint venture so some money will end up in Peru´s coffers (or its politicans´ pockets). But it seems crazy in a poor country for any of this revenue to benefit the shareholders of a foreign company and its tax-avoiding directors.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/417/2413417_55f0321b2f_s.jpg" alt="mandytrain" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/443/2413443_e75206869d_s.jpg" alt="train2" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> Back in Cusco we roamed around the ancient streets and looked at the fine churches and buildings the Spanish built on top of fine Inca temples and buildings. It was Holy Week so we saw a large procession of people following a gory but well-dressed statue of Christ. We also looked at the hotel where John Peel had his fatal heart attack (is that weird? It´s the white building, bottom right).<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/403/2413403_ba11ac1377_s.jpg" alt="cuscochrist" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/400/2413400_1b07122ddf_s.jpg" alt="cusco3" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/402/2413402_73f6bf8734_s.jpg" alt="cusco5" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/404/2413404_8976f2dcee_s.jpg" alt="cuscopeel" vspace="5" hspace="5"> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/03/22/machu-picchu-picture-special-3921770/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/03/22/machu-picchu-picture-special-3921770/Sat, 22 Mar 2008 18:25:38 +0100 <p>The day we arrived in La Paz I had my 1st real experience of squits from a 100% organic soup and sandwich. Jim was really poorly the next day, when we visited Tiwanaku 50 miles out of the city.In fact he was completely projectile and sometimes absent from our tour. Tiwanaku was an ancient civilisation, before the Inkas and seemingly more advanced than the Incas, around between 1,500 BC-1,200 AD and situated at a mammoth 4,100 metres. The stone work and ceramics made me realise how little we have advanced in such a long time. The site's considered to be the most important archeologically in South America. There are two large pyramids both are still almost completely covered with soil. They were aligned with the mountains and Lake Titikaka and were used as important political and religious places. Tiwanaku's elite also studied astronomy from the top of the pyramids to help them plan their crops. There is a small church in an adjacent modern village which archeologists (who are still excavating)think could cover a very important site, as Spanish conquerers often built churches on top of the most significant sites of previous civilisations, to obliterate the past as much as possible. One of the archeologists tried to have a look under the church whilst the priest was away, but was stopped by villagers. The Spanish also defaced the most symbolic statues, believing them to be `false` idols.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/360/2413360_3b2e20ee06_s.jpg" alt="tiwan2" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/359/2413359_7adac85691_s.jpg" alt="tiwan1" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> Some of the stone carvings depicted different faces, showing the diversity of the Tiwanaku civilisation, including one alien face...<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/340/2413340_ab376f55d3_s.jpg" alt="alientiwan" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/345/2413345_4855b3ae3f_s.jpg" alt="mandtiwan" vspace="5" hspace="5"> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/03/22/tiwanaku-3921658/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/03/22/tiwanaku-3921658/Sat, 22 Mar 2008 18:03:22 +0100 <p> We got to La Paz late at night in early March and hooked up at Hotel Milton for 8 days. We never meant to stay for so long, but the hotel was unusual and friendly and we were hit by bad food on our first day. Despite being aclimatised at 2,500 metres, La Paz's streets are steep and Jim felt like a wheezing elderly folk going up the hotel stairs. The hotel was one of my favourite places to stay. Each floor was grand with 70s wallpaper depicting different alpine scenes, and on the stairways the walls were padded with leather. It was really tranquill, with 8 floors and hardly anyone staying there, but very chilly.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/347/2413347_ff9e608b64_s.jpg" alt="miltonwall1" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/348/2413348_a6fd6aff04_s.jpg" alt="miltonwall2" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> From the rooftop we had fantastic views over La Paz. The city is stunning, squeezed between mountains, with houses pinned to the steepest slopes and markets on most streets.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/343/2413343_a071d4e7bb_s.jpg" alt="lapaz2" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/342/2413342_3e8f22cb20_s.jpg" alt="lapaz1" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> Women in bowler hats at tilted angles, selling fruit, cheese and lots of varieties of spuds, as well as the usual arndale clutter ( wait to see your presents). Unfortunately, Jim was nearly at the end of one of the spuds from across the road. Whilst trying to take of a picture of me perusing the spud stall, the spud lady was very afronted and clasped a spud in hand and took aim... luckily, I managed to intervene to say he was `with me` so she held off.<br> There lots of pictures you could take in La Paz, but understandably some people get pretty pissed off with tourists sticking a camera in their face everyday.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/130/2426130_711a0d699d_s.jpg" alt="spud woman" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> One of the best museums we have been to during the trip was the coca Museum in La Paz, set up by a local psychiatrist to educate people about coca and its uses. Coca is a big part of Andean culture in Bolivia and Peru. The indigenous community, which is about 60% of the population, chew the leaves whilst working and at social gatherings. Its pretty similar to khat, which we tried in Ethiopia, although I think khat is chewed by less people. Cafes also sell coca tea, which is supposed to help with adjusting to the high altitudes. The use of coca in Bolivia and Peru is strikingly different to how cocaine is used in the West. Pure cocaine is one of 3 components of the coca leaf, which is extracted and mixed with other chemicals to make cocaine. Although America only has 5% of the world's population, it consumes 50% of the world's cocaine. America continues to send drug enforcement agencies into Bolivia to spray farmers' fields with chemicals to kill coca, against the wishes of the majority of Bolivians, poisoning the soil and killing other less hardy crops. But the Bolivian government has not made it illegal to grow coca for traditional use. Back in the 1960s, the United Nations (UN) sent a former banker (??!) to South America to `research` the impact of coca. He decided that coca was responsible for poverty in South America.... and on his recommendations, the UN outlawed the use of coca. Only last month, Bolivia sent representatives to a UN conference to fight its corner, but the UN continues to push for a total ban. Strange since it "works to promote respect for human rights, protect the environment, fight disease and reduce poverty".<br> Pictures below, enjoying beer and tea and a picture of Jim when he first moved to Manchester, relaxing after selling drugs on the streets...<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/132/2426132_0ade70041b_s.jpg" alt="tea beer" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/341/2413341_c6c69a2837_s.jpg" alt="cocaineuser" vspace="5" hspace="5"></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/03/22/la-paz-bolivia-3-600-metres-and-rising-3921449/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/03/22/la-paz-bolivia-3-600-metres-and-rising-3921449/Sat, 22 Mar 2008 17:16:19 +0100 <p><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/201/2388201_aeb460de24_s.jpg" alt="chol2" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/200/2388200_dc8d8ecf7d_s.jpg" alt="chol1" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> Bolivia, like Brazil and lots of other places, has plenty of servants. The era of service is alive and well, and usually the people in service have darker skin than those they are servicing. Here, the cleaners, cooks and childminders are all indigenous women. They´re known as cholitas because they´re usually from the countryside and wear traditional dress. (Although, we were told yesterday that the 'traditional' long skirts were imposed by the Spanish, presumably to protect their modesty.) Each morning we would see cholitas in Cochabamba waiting to be hired. They stand around talking, waiting for someone to come along and offer them domestic work. Most of the time it's probably safe but they looked vulnerable. In recent years three cholitas have been raped and murdered and dumped on a hill overlooked by a huge statue of Christ.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/214/2388214_4b22e485da_s.jpg" alt="truck2" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/213/2388213_d80330efbb_s.jpg" alt="truck1" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/206/2388206_c86f8c8d6c_s.jpg" alt="llamafoetus" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/205/2388205_431cb82fd3_s.jpg" alt="hatshop" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> The city has a huge market where there´s all the usual stuff you'd find at home - knickers on steering wheels, tracksuit tops and cheap T-shirts. But there´s one part of the market that deals with, for want of a better word, witchcraft. Well, it's not really witchcraft, more traditional beliefs to do with good fortune. Some of the stalls had dried llama foetuses hanging up. In broken spanish I asked what they were for. 'Good luck', said the woman. 'Where do you put it?', 'El patio', she said. I don´t think this means sticking it next to the barbecue on the crazy paving. In Spanish 'patio' is more of a courtyard.<br> We also took in an afternoon of football where we got two matches for two pounds. The quality of the top billing was high and although the atmosphere was relaxed there were quite a few riot police. It was interesting to see how they formed a line around players taking corners even though the stands were full of people eating ice cream. At full time inflatable tunnels protruded from the changing rooms to the edge of the pitch and even then the police formed a line, with the greatest protection given to the ref.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/191/2388191_e564e92864_s.jpg" alt="football1" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/190/2388190_0ef81030cf_s.jpg" alt="football2" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> We spent a week in Cochabamba trying to learn Spanish. We took on the services of Guido, who guided us through the language for two hours a day, for six days - plus homework. After a 10-month holiday this dedication was a tall order. On more than one occasion I nearly got a biro in the eye during animated discussions with Amanda about the polite third person singular of the verb 'to be'. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/03/07/cholitas-for-hire-3831823/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/03/07/cholitas-for-hire-3831823/Fri, 07 Mar 2008 18:21:21 +0100 <p><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/198/2388198_baee69808f_s.jpg" alt="parrot" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> We escaped Santa Cruz's stifling heat for the cooler air of the Andean foothills. Samaipata is the kind of sleepy rural town that looks like it hasn't changed for hundreds of years. The roads leading off the main square turn into dusty gravel tracks after fifty metres and are lined with ancient single storey mud brick homes. It reminded me of the sleepy French villages that have been bought up by British investors. Here it´s Dutch and German immigrants who form a large ex-pat community. They´re not that noticable but have a hand in most of the tourist-related businesses. We camped at a place run by a Dutch couple who bought a huge chunk of land on a hillside years ago. It was a nice place but they were a bit smug about their herb garden, vegetable patch and the 'slow food' they served in the cafe. There was a communal locker for the campers and the key was kept on a kitchen shelf. One night the owner took away the key saying there had been some thefts in the past and he had to be careful. He seemed a bit jittery like he was making the whole thing up. The more likely explanation was that he didn't trust a gregarious Polish bloke who had kept him up the night before by talking too loudly. In the morning I went to see the owner about the key. He asked where I was from and appeared to confide in me as a respectable Englishman. 'Oh, it´s back on the shelf,' he said, in a strange Cary Grant accent. 'I can smell the people better now.' I felt like being sick all over his slow food breakfast. The Pole was away for the day but returned late in the evening, raving about a lunar eclipse. Within minutes the shadow of the earth started to move across the nearly full moon. Horses whinnied, dogs barked and thousands of stars appeared. I´d never seen the Milky Way so bright, but then something strange happened. When the moon was completely obscured most of the stars vanished and yet it was a cloudless night. They reappeared about 30 minutes later. Any explanations on the back of a postcard please.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/193/2388193_b9fefbf5e7_s.jpg" alt="cata" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/197/2388197_f0dd439607_s.jpg" alt="incasite" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> We spent a week in this town taking it very easy, mainly because there were no banks and we hadn't brought enough money. We walked up to a pre-Inca fort called El Fuerte where a huge rock is covered in intricate carvings, mostly to do with astronomy. While we stood there a huge swarm of bees droned towards us about 10 metres up. Staring up in disbelief at this dark cloud, we froze in panic aware that we could do nothing if they decended on us and stung us both to death. (Alright, it might seem dramatic, but these things flash through your mind). But they flew on leaving us jittery, jumping each time we heard an insect fly by. El Fuerte was the eastern-most point of the Inca empire before the Spanish arrived and claimed the site for themselves. We were heading west to the city of Cochabamba and caught a night bus through some isolated villages on some hairy mountain roads.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/199/2388199_2da9ec3672_s.jpg" alt="bleakhouse" vspace="5" hspace="5"> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/03/06/moo-cows-3823120/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/03/06/moo-cows-3823120/Thu, 06 Mar 2008 01:57:50 +0100 <p>We arrived in Santa Cruz sweaty and crumpled. It`s very hot here so after one night we fled to the cool air of the mountains. But we spent a day hanging around the city and its picturesque central square. It`s full of tall trees that are said to be home to a community of three-toed sloths. Apparently they hang about in the trees, sleep 18 hours a day and come down to go to the loo once a week. Craning our necks we tried to search them out - and got some odd looks from the locals, but we couldn`t see any. Apparently they were removed a few years ago - perhaps the groundsman was tired of them messing up his geraniums once a week.<br> The square was a very laid back place - lots of people sauntering around with ice creams. So I was surprised to discover that an ultra-nationalist group held a rally here in October, fired shots into the air and pledged to fight the socialist pig-dogs of La Paz.<br> Bolivia has a big problem and my knowledge of it is pretty sketchy, but basically the country`s white elite (the people of Spanish descent who still control the best land, resources etc - can you believe it? Nearly 500 hundred years after the conquistadors arrived!) is at odds with the socialist government headed by Evo Morales, the country`s first indigenous leader (Can you believe it? Nearly 500 years years after...). Santa Cruz is the elite´s heartland and the surrounding area has most of the country´s natural resources. The extreme right want to break away from the rest of Bolivia and they certainly don´t want any of their wealth to be used to help the impoverished Indians.<br> Others want greater autonomy, not civil war, but they too oppose Morales´ socialist agenda which includes land redistribution and a cap on land holdings. Their biggest fear is he`s shaping up to be another South American dictator. Morales wants to pursue social equality, but he also wants to change the constitution so he can stand for re-election indefinitely.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/228/2388228_79019a4e36_s.jpg" alt="socialismo" vspace="5" hspace="5"> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/02/28/santa-cruz-sloths-and-civil-war-3793936/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/02/28/santa-cruz-sloths-and-civil-war-3793936/Thu, 28 Feb 2008 19:24:10 +0100 <p>Death Train, or Train of Death, all the guide books mention it. But there`s nothing dangerous about it. It just chugs along a very flat, straight line for about 20 hours before reaching the city of Santa Cruz. The biggest danger is probably deep vein thrombosis, or perhaps a small chance of catching dengue fever from the mosquitos. The track crosses a huge wilderness swamp so lots of insects fly in through the windows which are always wide open because of the stifling heat. We got some sleep, but it was the kind of kip you wake from with a broken neck, a parched gob and an oily film all over your face.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/153/2388153_03c41ccf66_s.jpg" alt="train1" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/154/2388154_34a8143469_s.jpg" alt="train2" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> For the first time since Africa women and children were selling food and drinks through the windows. At some stops there were trackside stalls and an elaborate array of ready meals. Crews of women endlessly walked up and down the carriages with snacks. A few hours in I was tempted by chicken and rice, but held back fearful of the implications of bad guts with 18 hours to go.<br> It was interesting to see how many of the women in these rural areas wear traditional dress - a knee length pleated skirt made of a velvety curtain material, a frilly white blouse, a fitted granny-style cardigan and a wide-brimmed straw hat. They nearly all have straight jet-black hair in two long plaits. I was surprised to a see a group of European men and women who looked like they`d stepped off the set of The Waltons. All the men were wearing dark blue denim dungarees and white shirts. I was told later they`re Menonites, probably the decendants of German missionaries that came to these parts in the 1800s.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/02/28/death-train-to-the-lowlands-3793733/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/02/28/death-train-to-the-lowlands-3793733/Thu, 28 Feb 2008 18:37:51 +0100 <p>Last night we were sweating our guts out in a town called Corumba. It`s right on the border with Bolivia and is very humid. North of here is a huge swamp called the Pantanal and north of that is the Amazon. To the south is Paraguay and west lies Bolivia, which is where we are now. In an hour or so we`ll catch a train known as the Death Train to the city of Santa Cruz. Don`t worry, I don`t think this dramatic name has anything to do with real death. It`s related to the fact it`s a very slow, boring journey lasting about 20 hours in searing temperatures. I`ll let you know how it goes.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/02/15/ay_corumba~3732047/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/02/15/ay_corumba~3732047/Fri, 15 Feb 2008 16:25:18 +0100 <p>So after weeks of bad weather and city life we finally found the Brazilian dream. Trindade is a small coastal village between Sao Paulo and Rio. This stretch of coast is exceptionally beautiful, in fact I don`t think I`ve ever seen anything like it before. The shoreline juts in and out creating sheltered bays and idyllic beaches. There are hundred of small islands and the entire coast is backed by a huge forested ridge where the clouds hang, just like they do in central Africa. This is the Atlantic forest which used to run the entire length of Brazil`s coast. Most of it`s been chopped down, so only small pockets like this one survive. We camped in Trindade, sat on the beach and swam in the sea. I even bought flip flops and long surf shorts, just like all the other dudes. But I think I looked more like a hairy uncle in his Wham throwback swimming shorts. Amanda bought a long-coveted beach tennis set but managed to whack herself in the face with a bat. It hasn`t left a lasting injury. Everyone was friendly, particularly the campsite owner who was keen for me to hold her pet cockerel and feel some cysts on her dog`s arse. The campsite was home to some large freshwater crabs. They were bright blue and yellow and would scurry into their holes when we passed by. At least we hoped they did, especially at night.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/206/2369206_7067dfce15_s.jpg" alt="trindad" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/207/2369207_6983a255e6_s.jpg" alt="beetl" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> In these pictures you can see the majestic sweep of Trindade´s beach and the biggest beetle I`ve ever seen. The pics of me in Wham throwback shorts appear to have vanished. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/02/15/the_brazilian_dream~3732027/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/02/15/the_brazilian_dream~3732027/Fri, 15 Feb 2008 16:20:50 +0100 <p>It came down to either spending the carnival in world famous Rio or trusting my friend Ricardo´s judgement and going to a historic small town in the countryside. We opted for the latter. It was a good setting, high up in the hills above a dense strip of misty jungle. Sao Luis do Paraitinga looked the part - all Portuguese colonial architecture, dominated by a great big church. But there was a catch. This town prides itself on its traditional music and even has an official decree banning samba. This meant no huge drumming bands or fantastic ladies in sequins and plummage.<br> The traditional style of music is based around trumpets, but it´s been modernised in a way that has squeezed out all the charm. All I could hear were cheesy synths and a plodding bassline. It was the sort of music that evoked It´s A Knock Out. When one band passed by on the back of a truck, all wearing comedy wigs, it felt like I`d been teleported to a Belgian street party. These sounds were pumped out through a tinny PA system in the town´s square for four days straight. All around were thousands of young people, mainly from Sao Paulo, getting wasted and trying to snog each other. Sounds good, doesn´t it? It was as if a giant hen party had bumped into a similarly oversized stag-do.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/205/2369205_e8af339cd4_s.jpg" alt="saoluis" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/202/2369202_32d5808eb1_s.jpg" alt="me2" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> Musical redemption came on the last day when we heard some deep bass drums reverberating along a side street. We were drawn to the band like kids to the Pied Piper and followed through the cobbled streets. There were about 10 big bass drums, five military style snares and three women with shakers. The band leader would occassionally stop the music and start a call and response routine that sounded like some ancient religious chant, then the drums would come crashing back in. It was Maracatu, the slave music of Recife in the North East and it was the best thing I`d heard since arriving in Brazil.<br> There were 13 in our group and we were all staying in a three-bedroomed house rented for the occasion. The town usually has 4,000 people, but this swells to 100,000 for the long weekend. Most of the locals rent out their homes for huge sums. Ours cost nearly 800 pounds for four days and it only had four rooms. Ricardo`s friends spent most of their time drinking vodka and red bull from camelbaks (those small rucksacks designed to carry water, usually worn by fitness enthusiasts) and cooking barbecues which are a big deal here. The most popular meat is picanha, a massive lump of prime beef which I think comes from the rump. Meat is cheap but a lump like this still costs about 10 pounds. It`s cooked for about half an hour and served in thin strips, usually quite rare. I knew it was rare because I kept dripping blood on my clothes before popping it in my mouth. Amanda abstained.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/203/2369203_ef7fbfbca4_s.jpg" alt="ricfern" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> The pics show: the revellers outide the town´s church, me having fun, and Ricardo and Fernanda sporting the camelbak. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/02/15/carnival_capers~3729643/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/02/15/carnival_capers~3729643/Fri, 15 Feb 2008 01:56:40 +0100 <p>When you think of Brazil, you´re really thinking of Rio - the beaches, the women, the carnival, the favelas. We sat on Copacabana beach and watched the men play volley foot (like volleyball without using hands) while a samba band played to the folks sipping caipairinhas (Brazil´s national drink of lime, sugar, cachaca - a sugarcane white spirit - and lots of ice). But the weather was bad - drizzly and grey. The stalwarts were still on the beach and some were even in the water in spite of the worrying brown patches, but the city´s famous posers were absent. Even with bad weather Rio oozed character and a sense of life that´s difficult to find in Sao Paulo. I desperately wanted to really like the underdog, but Sao Paulo struggles to compete with Rio. Sao Paulo feels big and impersonal. Rio is big but it feels far more intimate. Different districts wend their way around its hilly landscape, there are many more old buildings, more street life and it generally looks more lived in. The rich may live in luxury apartments that line the beaches but the city has a better social mix. In Sao Paulo it´s easy to pretend poverty doesn´t really exist - it happens elsewhere. In Rio street kids pass you in the centre of town and the favelas are visible all around the city, the terracotta housing perched on hillsides.<br> We stayed in a hostel where there were lots of English and a few Americans. One of them, Jeffrey, was in his late forties and had spent a lot of time travelling. He was interesting to talk to and had some good stories, especially one about playing the guitar in front of Muddy Waters on a barge in the Mississippi. It was funny because he sounded just like Jack Nicholson, particularly when delivering a punchline.<br> ´I was on the beaches of Belize smoking marijuana,´ he said. ´If we ran out of rolling papers we´d take a page out of the Bible and use that - then you really get the message,´ he added with a Nicholson-esque drawl. On his last night he got into a 20-minute monologue covering slavery, Christianity, Islam and the Old Testament, but he was stopped in his tracks by Amanda. ´I mean I´m just coming down from all this stuff,´ he said, `I don´t really like to talk.´<br> She started laughing, ´You´re a chatterbox.´<br> ´Eh?´<br> ´A chatterbox´<br> He was on his way to a retreat where he wouldn´t be allowed to talk for 10 days. He´s promised to let us know how he gets on.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/193/2369193_309ea13b3e_s.jpg" alt="rio" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/194/2369194_44c551a570_s.jpg" alt="rio2" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> These are terrible pictures of Rio, but at least a bit unusual. The Tardis-like building is the Catholic cathedral which was built around the same time as the one in Liverpool. And that`s the view from inside, looking up. Apologies if you were expecting beauties on Ipanema beach. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/02/13/title~3722941/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/02/13/title~3722941/Wed, 13 Feb 2008 19:06:01 +0100 <p><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/039/2306039_ee8783f323_s.jpeg" alt="spview" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/040/2306040_4f77c3ad55_s.jpeg" alt="sambabar" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> ´I mean, ít´s not that bad,` said Ricardo. ´I´ve had a gun pointed at my head twice, but that was twice in 26 years. You´ll be fine.´<br> Sao Paulo´s reputation for violent crime and general urban magnitude weighed heavy on my mind. But you know what? It´s not that bad. I should have known after all this time that nowhere is as bad as you´re often led to believe. It´s apparently the fourth biggest city in the world with a population of about 12 million. Some people sound awestruck when they talk about its size.<br> ´Sao Paulo?´ said one man in Uruguay with a distant look in his eyes. ´I remember flying over and it was solid buildings for half an hour´. I was daunted, but when you´re in the middle of it all it feels far less overbearing or hectic than most European capitals. ´That´s because it´s the holidays´, say the locals. ´Wait until February´, they add, indignant that you might be suggesting it´s not that bad after all.<br> It is huge, sprawling for miles in every direction, except the north where further growth is thwarted by some lush, green mountains. But the central areas are quite easy going. It´s not the futuristic Tokyo-style megalopolis I had expected. Blocks of flats nestle next to older housing and there are cafes on most corners. Brazil´s famed inequality of wealth is not too obvious, although we glimpsed both ends of the spectrum - helicopters flying the top executives in to work, and the homeless shacked up in doorways. There are also many people surviving in a very low wage economy, like the old men who work as human billboards with adverts slung over their shoulders.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/053/2306053_a1e44827c5_s.jpeg" alt="spgrafitti" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/054/2306054_3b2cf90af7_s.jpeg" alt="sprain" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> We´ve spent much of the time walking around and eating. The cafes here sell really good, cheap food. For about two pounds you can get a plate of rice, chips and beans with a big lump of grilled chicken. And everywhere sells fresh fruit juices (about 60p). But the big revelation is the ´kilo restaurant´ concept. You don´t pay for what you eat, but for how much it weighs. So the advertised price is, say, 50p per 100 grams. You pile it on and get it weighed. If anyone is looking for a new business idea we think this would be a big hit at home. I can see it now, a nationwide chain called ´Kilo´.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/060/2306060_0055b68c60_s.jpeg" alt="build3" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/061/2306061_5576c04512_s.jpeg" alt="spbuilding1" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> We´ve also been to quite a few samba bars and took in a game of football. For any fans out there it was Cortinthians v Paulista in the regional league. Corinthians have recently been relegated to the 2nd division (in the national league) and Paulista are in the third so it was hardly a masterclass in Brazilian football. There were only 9,500 in the 80,000-seater stadium but the die-hard Corinthian fans were still full of passion, spitting out insults (puuuuta merda!! Feeeela da puuuuta!) throughout the match.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/062/2306062_244e9f6fb1_s.jpeg" alt="footie" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/063/2306063_d7c078bd95_s.jpeg" alt="footie2" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> I feel I should let you know that everything you thought you knew about Brazil - women in sequins, glorious sunshine etc - is wrong. It rains a lot and gets quite chilly. I think there should be some sort of official apology. In the picture of the Beetle look at the rain washing down the street. Well, it does that most days.<br> I never got around to writing about Buenos Aires or Uruguay. It seems like a long time ago now but they were both interesting places, particularly Uruguay where everyone religiously drink a tea-like beverage called matte. They do this in Argentina as well but people appeared more devoted in Uruguay. You would see young women on the beach in bikinis with a thermos under one arm. John Shuttleworth would approve.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/01/28/the_full_sp~3642218/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/01/28/the_full_sp~3642218/Mon, 28 Jan 2008 02:48:14 +0100 <p><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/077/2283077_f4ca45ceb3_s.jpg" alt="mandarm" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> What could be the greatest dangers in Brazil? Thieves? Gun-toting gangsters? Or, supermarket steps? On New Year’s Eve the lethal combo of flip flops and a wet tiled floor conspired to send Amanda crashing to the ground. Her left elbow caught the force of the blow and split open (see pic). The right buttock also took a bruising (no pic available). Amanda momentarily blacked out and came to with sea of faces looking down, just like in a film. Staff gathered around, one looking nervous with a clipboard and a medic was called for. We had only been in the country for an hour and Ricardo had just picked us up from the bus station.<br> ‘Is this the worst thing that’s happened on your trip?’ he asked sheepishly. ‘Yes’. As the store’s PA system belted out information about the latest offers Amanda had her elbow sewn up. Shoppers passed by with squeamish expressions that appeared to say, ‘I wish I hadn’t looked’. (In Portuguese)<br> The supermarket is called BIG and it is so big some of the staff get about on rollerskates. It’s owned by the American group Walmart, just like Asda. As we left they were taping off the steps like a crime scene. This experience didn’t really set Amanda up for the usual New Year’s Eve high jinx. Still, we went to Fernanda’s family house at the sea and had a big meal, drank fizzy wine at midnight and went to the beach where the custom is to jump seven waves and make seven wishes.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/078/2283078_6868838bc9_s.jpg" alt="mandwave" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/079/2283079_d6cc5b9662_s.jpg" alt="ricfan" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> It made a nice change to swim in the sea on New Year’s Day and then relax with fresh coconut milk. But, like Uruguay, the weather was bad and it rained a lot of the time. This didn’t seem to bother the Brazilians who sat on the beach in the rain under their umbrellas, like British holidaymakers squeezing the most out of the dying days of summer.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/01/17/slippery_customers~3591345/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2008/01/17/slippery_customers~3591345/Thu, 17 Jan 2008 16:21:27 +0100 <p><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/833/2233833_a98698dc65_s.jpg" alt="uruguaybeach2 002" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/832/2233832_dd4bd01eb1_s.jpg" alt="uruguaybeach2 001" vspace="5" hspace="5"> </p> <p>Merry Christmas from La Paloma, Uruguay! We are baking in Glorious sunshine, it just doesn't come across in the pics...</p> <p>Big up 4 2008!</p> <p>lots luv manda & Jim</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2007/12/24/been_soo_busy_getting_ready_for_chrimbo~3486594/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2007/12/24/been_soo_busy_getting_ready_for_chrimbo~3486594/Mon, 24 Dec 2007 15:23:36 +0100 <p>Tucked away in the middle of nowhere is a small town called El Chalten. It sits in the shadow of the Andes and looks a bit like a goldrush town. Most of the buildings along the unmade roads are under construction. Builders hammer while their materials flap in the harsh Patagonian wind (see pic of Amanda trying to walk). The town was established in 1985. Argentina and Chile were in dispute over the land so Argentina paid people to come and live here. Now lots of hikers come to walk around a national park that skirts the southern Patagonian ice field. It´s the same ice that pushes out that glacier in the previous pictures and is the third biggest freshwater reservoir on earth after Antarctica and Greenland.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/582/2220582_185790d2f6_s.jpg" alt="chaltenview" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/583/2220583_0ee973ead2_s.jpg" alt="chaltwind" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> We spent three days walking around here, once again camping in the wind whipped shadow of a glacier and seeing even more crenellated peaks. It is possible to get too much of this though. I found myself thinking,´oh yeah, there´s another turquoise glacial lake´. The glacial scenery is fascinating, especially if you like geography. The huge piles of rock (is it moraine?) deposited by moving glaciers look like they´ve been shunted about by JCBs. I thought I might have done better in geography at school if the field trips were to places like this. I went to Devon, and the River Cray in Bexleyheath.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/584/2220584_ce731db13f_s.jpg" alt="llamas" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> After leaving the park we visited Perito Moreno, one of the few advancing glaciers. It´s said to be the most impressive example in the world. I forgot to take the camera. It´s possible to stand on a peninsula and face the 50m wall of ice which is continually cracking and banging as ice blocks fall off it.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/585/2220585_916d435e8a_s.jpg" alt="lunch" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> We started to move north on long bus journeys where lunch is served like this (see pic). Patagonia´s mountains and lakes are celebrated but most of it is featureless brown scrub. It´s possible to travel for hundreds of miles and see nothing but this, no people, towns, or anything. One journey was brightened up by a quick round of bus bingo. We didn´t win.<br> On the way to Buenos Aires we stopped at Puerto Madryn, one of the Welsh Patagonian towns. I had always imagined these places to be lost in time, where people would walk around in traditional Welsh gear. Sadly, this isn´t the case. The big deal here is not Wales, but whales. In November killer whales swim up to the beach to eat seals but all year round it´s possible to see huge Southern Right Whales. This is their breeding ground so we saw three females with their young.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/587/2220587_9fc13ccfc3_s.jpg" alt="whales" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/586/2220586_a5a6a4ca75_s.jpg" alt="meboatrip" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> After throwing up in Mozambique I was a bit apprehensive. But I bravely toughed it out on these stormy waters.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2007/12/22/mountains_glaciers_whales_etc~3478640/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2007/12/22/mountains_glaciers_whales_etc~3478640/Sat, 22 Dec 2007 15:13:14 +0100 <p><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/588/2220588_cc85faa9d8_s.jpg" alt="youngllama" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> Happy 4th birthday Holly Lovelock! I hope you like this picture of a strange sort of bambi animal we saw at a cafe. It was a little girl´s pet. Perhaps your mum can get hold of one in Kent.<br> lots of love, uncle jim and auntie manda </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2007/12/18/happy_birthday_holly~3462454/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2007/12/18/happy_birthday_holly~3462454/Tue, 18 Dec 2007 22:01:48 +0100 <p><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/024/2182024_05d0b7a9cc_s.jpg" alt="fetonhouse" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> Three years before Amanda´s great-grandparents headed off to New Zealand, my great-grandfather George Read set sail for southern Argentina. The plan was to make lots of money and return to England to buy a farm. He docked in a town called Rio Gallegos in 1907, two years after Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid raided the bank, and exactly 100 years before we arrived (give or take a few days).<br> Rio Gallegos is scruffy and dust-blown. It´s the kind of place that can alter your mood, a bit like Burnley. The dogs run free; plastic bags whip across abandoned land and the houses look like they´re under seige from the unrelenting wind. It also has the most whacked out collection of old cars we´ve seen since Africa - frail 1970s Renaults and hulking great flat-bed Fords. Having said all that, it´s a friendly place, although the woman at our hotel didn´t appreciate me asking for some milk for my coffee.<br> "You asked for coffee," she snapped. "Not coffee with milk".<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/553/2220553_87687a7019_s.jpg" alt="dogscene" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/554/2220554_7e40d67714_s.jpg" alt="port" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> (The pic shows a typical Rio Gallegos scene - a stray dog lounging under a bin; and the bustling docks.)<br> In 1907 it was a wild west, tin shack sort of place where respectable women stayed indoors on Saturdays while prostitutes hustled on the streets. At least that´s what they told us at the tourist office.<br> The oldest building in town is now the Pioneer Museum (pic at top) and it just happens to have once been the home of the man who employed my great grandfather. Here we discovered that a descendant still has a farm in the region where he runs a guesthouse.<br> So we booked in for the night, hired a car and headed off across the featureless scrub (see pic below) that runs in every direction for miles. We passed sheep, the occasional nandu (a kind of ostrich), oil installations and a village-sized ranch owned by Benetton, before arriving at the farm. It´s tucked away at the end of mainland Argentina, wedged between the Chilean border and the Magallanes Strait.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/567/2220567_762ff1597d_s.jpg" alt="scrub" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/568/2220568_686db1599b_s.jpg" alt="fentons" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> I spoke to the farmer David Fenton (pictured with his wife Peggy) whose great (great?) uncle employed George. We discovered that he probably never worked here at all, it was somewhere else, but no one really knows where. So I made my excuses and left. No, not really, but I had been full of these romantic notions that my own kin had walked around these very fields. What a load of old cobblers. Oh well, at least we got to the southernmost tip of mainland Argentina and visited the continent´s second biggest penguin colony. We were also given huge amounts of meat. Even the bread had meat in it.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/571/2220571_0de9736cdd_s.jpg" alt="viewsouth" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/572/2220572_118ad3cdce_s.jpg" alt="peng" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> (The pics show the view south to the southernmost point; some penguins; and Amanda at the Chilean border)<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/573/2220573_b9a5c6b1b1_s.jpg" alt="mandborder" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/574/2220574_1ace222f0f_s.jpg" alt="sheepshear" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> We also got to see a traditional Argentinian wedding (see pic above). Only joking! That´s a farmhand preparing to shear a sheep. We managed to catch this impressive display of clipper skills before heading back to the mountains.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2007/12/11/family_ties_part~3429428/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2007/12/11/family_ties_part~3429428/Tue, 11 Dec 2007 20:18:56 +0100 <p>We arrived in Chile four hours before we left New Zealand which left us with bad jet lag and days of floating about in a remote stupor, not helped by our poor language skills.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/910/2181910_a89bb6d516_s.jpg" alt="natales2" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/880/2181880_b746a20230_s.jpg" alt="nataleshouse" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> We caught a night bus south, then another that took us to Punta Arenas, the southernmost town on the mainland. This 32-hour journey was quite painless, most of the time passed watching films but the DVD tended to go wrong minutes from the end. If anyone knows what happens at the end of a Mark Wahlberg film called Shooter please write in on the back of a postcard.<br> Writers usually tend to wax lyrical about the remote, end-of-the-world qualities of Punta Arenas, but it seemed like quite a bustling place. We only stayed for 30 minutes before getting on another bus to a town three hours away called Peurto Natales (see pics above).<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/911/2181911_5b20132c1d_s.jpg" alt="torres1" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/912/2181912_fc987e67ba_s.jpg" alt="torres2" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> The idea was to go walking in the Torres del Paine national park, a very famous destination that attracts 80,000 walkers a year, but I´d never heard of it. We approached Puerto Natales across windswept plains in the 10pm daylight. Black clouds hung in the mountains. This really did feel like an end-of-the-earth sort of place, although the town itself was full of bars, restaurants, internet cafes and walkers.<br> We spent seven days in the park and it is spectacular; crowded with crenellated mountains and impossibly blue lakes. There was a lot of sun but as we got closer to a massive glacier the weather turned. It just looked unreal, a vast river of ice that blended into the clouds and the sky. If you saw it in a film you´d assume it had been created with computer graphics. To put it into scale, that small black dot to the left of the glacier in one picture is quite a big tourist boat.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/869/2181869_1c98b1b3b7_s.jpg" alt="glacirupriver" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/825/2181825_84ad3e77bb_s.jpg" alt="glacieview" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/826/2181826_dafb7ebc90_s.jpg" alt="glacierboat" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> While we were camping here it started raining and the wind raged far above our heads. ´Could you just go out and check the trees?´ asked Amanda, concerned one might blow over and squash us. I pulled my sleeping bag even tighter and tried to sleep.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/827/2181827_0bd265cc91_s.jpg" alt="britnnicopic" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/828/2181828_101c53767d_s.jpg" alt="britannicomount" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> We met quite a few people including a family from Texas who had lost control of their hire car and rolled it on a gravel road the previous night. There was also Diego, a Spanish biologist who is doing his Phd on the way frogs communicate. ´I´m a kind of frog psychologist´, he said.<br> In this picture he is explaining about a parasite common to many of the trees in the park.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/868/2181868_3aabc1053e_s.jpg" alt="diego" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/871/2181871_94b1db209e_s.jpg" alt="mandbluelake" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/872/2181872_d559f553fb_s.jpg" alt="rockdream" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/873/2181873_017c397a3a_s.jpg" alt="silentvalley" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> NB, geology fans might like to know that these mountains were formed some 12 million years ago when granite pluton penetrated through a crack in Magallanes´ basin. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2007/11/30/no_hablo_espanol~3375483/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2007/11/30/no_hablo_espanol~3375483/Fri, 30 Nov 2007 17:03:56 +0100 <p><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/020/2131020_583fc4bbba_s.jpg" alt="sign" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> We finally got up-to-date with this blog while sitting in amongst the turnips at Wardy's fruit and veg shop in a small town called Rawene. He had previously worked in TV but diversified so now he sells veg but also makes programmes in the corner. On the other side of the turnips is his editing suite. The set up seemed to capture the quirks of small town New Zealand. An unlikely twist was the arrival in the shop of a big teenager who is the son of a Maori activist called Tame Iti. Iti has been at the centre of New Zealand's first 'terror' alert after police raided his house accusing him of running terror training camps in the mountains and master-minding a plot against the government. New Zealand's police used new anti-terror legislation to arrest him and about 20 others. It's caused a storm here. The new laws had so many holes the accused have all been released on bail and may not be tried for the original allegations after all. So it's not so much like 1950s and more like Britain of today.<br> That's it from New Zealand, we're off to Chile this afternoon. (you don't get to say that too often). I've put up a few extra pics of Amanda's family under 'Family Ties'. The young lad is her cousin Matt and the dog is called Coastie. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2007/11/11/multi_tasking~3281861/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2007/11/11/multi_tasking~3281861/Sun, 11 Nov 2007 22:06:49 +0100 <p>We heard so much about the Kiwi lifestyle we had to try to embrace one of its characteristics, 'tramping'. We made the mistake of picking one of the 'difficult' tracks in a alpine area called Arthur's Pass cos we like a challenge... It was still winter season and threatened by avalanches, so we had to tramp the 'arse end' of the national park, according to a DOC guy. Tramping is basically going on long walks, through streams and rivers with ur boots on & sleeping overnight in the middle of nowhere in huts with other strangers. We went out for 3 days and it wasn't till day 2 that we got our feet wet and gave up spending hours making bridges over streams and working out where the water wasn't so deep/fast. We sometimes learnt the hard way, which was fun, wet and a bit scary panicking that u r about to fall over mid river with a big backpack on (yes we had to carry all our shit with us. The other scary thing was staying in 1 hut with only 1 other fella who told us he was a expert in studying human behaviour & had just finished working at an abatoir for 2 yrs. He also said I had a 'cute' nose and asked how long I'd had my bob haircut... </p> <p><a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/media/photo/arthurspassriver/2113884" title="arthurspassriver"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/884/2113884_69f29c849f_s.jpg" alt="arthurspassriver" vspace="5" hspace="5"></a><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/979/2113979_6376d1330c_s.jpg" alt="holidaypics 052" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/977/2113977_6142308cef_s.jpg" alt="holidaypics 050" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/895/2113895_a5c0b16dd0_s.jpg" alt="hut" vspace="5" hspace="5"> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2007/11/09/tramping~3268197/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2007/11/09/tramping~3268197/Fri, 09 Nov 2007 05:53:23 +0100 <p>After all the exciting time through Africa we reclined to being old bids, spending time in several campervans & a car in the South and North Islands. The S Island has outstanding scenery, occasional asparagus or kiwi honesty boxes, small towns, 2nd hand shops (fantastic) and a bit more. We searched the island for Department of Conservation (DOC) campsites - very cheap (yes), very remote, not very well signposted, nearly always empty, and sometimes slightly eerie. We spent the first week with Steve (Jim's mate from Leeds) and his lovely lady Megan. As you can see, the emptyness sometimes had a strange effect upon us all, particularly Steve.</p> <p><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/941/2113941_0bdbee1224_s.jpg" alt="steve" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/925/2113925_499665d373_s.jpg" alt="megan" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/947/2113947_485d4dd933_s.jpg" alt="teanaulake" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/946/2113946_0e04b8d348_s.jpg" alt="teamilford" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/933/2113933_00dc326bb7_s.jpg" alt="milford" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/890/2113890_25354ab97d_s.jpg" alt="dump" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> Ta Steve for nicely peppering up the campervan experience with as much booze as u can drink & teaching us poker. For all your patience, despite Jim being unable to catch on, you only lost it once.</p> <p><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/935/2113935_2549c40641_s.jpg" alt="mountcook" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/899/2113899_9473cf77c5_s.jpg" alt="jimbigsky" vspace="5" hspace="5"></p> <p>We stayed at one beach/campsite and woke up to see a group of sea lions playing on the beach. We managed to get about 30 metres away and watch them for a while. Jim was trying to get a closer snap and I was watching a young sea lion through the binoculars, when Jim came into view. The seal was making a charge and next minuite Jimmi is leggin across the sand holding his hat on his head with the lion in hot pursuit. They were about 5 mtrs apart at one point, obviously we were unaware that a safe distance is 30 metres...<br> The bird is a Kea, which is a cheaky bird & followed us on foot for about a mile.</p> <p><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/919/2113919_6ee01f3b28_s.jpg" alt="holidaypics 044" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/902/2113902_f8d87438fe_s.jpg" alt="kea" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> We also strangely came across a few Lenny references, is he trying to tell us something? (our cat). Apparently Lenny is a not very common bloke's name over here.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/904/2113904_1387c3686e_s.jpg" alt="lenny" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/006/2131006_3945b891ed_s.jpg" alt="lenny2" vspace="5" hspace="5"></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2007/11/09/driving_ms_daisy~3268185/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2007/11/09/driving_ms_daisy~3268185/Fri, 09 Nov 2007 05:48:29 +0100 <p>It's been a few months since I've amused people with my interesting anecdotes and imaginative pictures so here goes. This has been written in a vegetable store, Hokianga harbour.</p> <p>One of the reasons for visiting NZ was to meet & trace some of my family. We have been staying a lot with my uncle Tim (who moved here in the 70s), auntie Julie and son Matt & which has been great. My uncle was, to his horror, surprisingly like my dad when we first met him. In their kitchen he directed Jim to the tea in the cupboard to make us all a brew, speaking in a mixture of Lancashire and Kiwi.<br> I also got to meet my cousin Candy and all her family for the first time. Candy is the same age as me and both her and Connor her son extremely lucky to have inherited the beautiful Littlewood teeth.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/888/2113888_741a5f7270_s.jpg" alt="candy and mands" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/687/2137687_69024c5ac5_s.jpg" alt="family" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/160/2138160_e3be0b1eec_s.jpg" alt="hol 001" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/161/2138161_e6335b349a_s.jpg" alt="hol 002" vspace="5" hspace="5"></p> <p>In 1910 my grandad moved to the South Island from Hull with his dad (a carpenter) and mum (a photographer) and I had always wanted to go and see where they lived. Balclutha was a proper backwater with only one main street - and still is. This is a picture of my great grandad (the nice moustach)and some of the early settlers to Balclutha at that time.<br> <img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/975/2113975_e843ba6f3b_s.jpg" alt="holidaypics 048" vspace="5" hspace="5"><img src="http://data3.blog.de/media/177/2126177_48756b17c7_s.jpeg" alt="hol" vspace="5" hspace="5"><br> After only 3 yrs my great grandad, for reasons unbeknown, burnt their house down and committed suicide. My great gran then moved back to the UK, to manchester, and was living only a few streets from our house, on Claremont Rd, Moss Side.<br> People were incredibly friendly in Balclutha and we managed to find the street they lived on as well as visit his unmarked grave and lay a few dandilions.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2007/11/07/new_zealand_land_of_lovely_light~3257530/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://blogroll.blog.co.uk/2007/11/07/new_zealand_land_of_lovely_light~3257530/Wed, 07 Nov 2007 04:32:25 +0100