Fri 19th Dec: Back in Cusco

Today was a relaxed day. I sorted out a bus ticket to Lima for tomorrow and then had a last look around Cusco. In one of the museums I bumped into Juan again. We swapped tales of our experiences on Macchu Pichu. Thankfully Juan had managed to get some decent shots from the top of Wayna Pichu in the rain. He said it had taken him over an hour to come down off the peak. The torrents of rain making the descent highly dangerous on bare rock. As we parted we wished each other well. After looking around town I took a last look at Saqsaywaman and the views over the city.

By 4pm I was back in the hostel. I lay down for a couple of hours intending to get up for food and a look around town in the evening. However I didn´t wake up. I slept solid through the night for 15hrs.

More shots of Macchu Pichu

Thurs 18th Dec: Macchu Pichu

Up at 5am for the 5.30 bus up to Macchu Pichu. I awake very tired and have to drag myself out of bed. I felt like this many times in America. Leaving the hostel its raining. I´ve been there for 6hrs. The rain is disappointing. I was hoping for good weather for this visit. I arrive just as the queue for the buses is beginning to form. In a matter of minutes there´s a large crowd waiting. A line of buses pull up and fill up inturn as the tourists pile in. I get onto the third bus away so there are few people on site when I arrive. It was 6am. The rain has stopped as well which is a relief. The place looks fantastic. After all the photos of the site that I´ve seen over the years there´s still no sense of anticlimax. The surrounding mountains are so dramatic. Perched on a sheer sided mountain it feels as though the city is supended in the air. Clouds sit on the mountain tops and swirl in wisps around the sides only add a sense of mystery to the place. You get a tingling feeling on first seeing the place. You don´t talk, you don´t think, youjust stay quiet and gaze over theviews. The place is certainly a showstopper.

I was talking to Italian guy when mist began to appear as if from out of the ground and soon enveloped the whole city in thick fog. The fog shrouded everything for most of the next 2hrs. I was supposed to join a tour of the site at 8am but I decided to stay where I was. I had found a good place to get shots of the site if the fog lifted. Given a choice of getting good shots or taking the tour I wanted the photos. By nightfall I would have forgotten most of the 2hr tour anyway. Eventually around 9am the fog lifted and I got my shots. Good, bad or indifferent I have them now and will treasure them.

3hrs after arriving on site I entered the city and began to wander. It has clearly defined sacred, residencial and agricultural zones. I cocked an ear to tours I passed to hear what was being said. As there is no recorded history of the site there are many conflicting theories as to the age function and duration of settlement on the site. I can read up on it when I get home.

After looking through the city for a while I climbed Wayna Pichu the peak you can see directly behind the city in all the photos. It too contains buildings and terracing which tower above the main site perched on vertigo inducing cliffs. The mind boggles as to why they built houses in such a location. It took 45 mins to climb the rock cut stairway to the top. It rained heavily as we climbed. Mercifully the rain stopped when we reached the top in a sodden state. Again the fog rolled in so views were non existent. Another wait of 90 minutes elapsed on the top of Wayna Pichu before the fog lifted to give mist shrouded glimpses of the city. A buzz of excitement rippled around everybody on the peak as the fog lifted and there was frenzied snapping of shots in case the fog descended again. We were lucky. Many others had climbed to the top but couldn´t wait due to time constraints of the tour they were with and had to leave seeing nothing. All that effort and not one photo. I had all day so I waited for as long as it took.

Climbing back down I bumped into Juan the Peruvian guy I´d spoken to last night making the climb. We spoke for a few minutes before continuing on our ways. I got back to the city and continued to wander around, determined to make the most of my time here. Very soon, however, the rain came down again. This time in torrents. I ran for shelter. I felt sorry for anbody on Wayna Pichu. It was going to be a thoroughly miserable experience and no views to be seen. The rain continued for an hour so I sat in the shelter with some others and watched and waited. Eventually the rain lifted and the surrounding peaks reappeared through the mist. Every time that happened there was a tingle of excitement as you were never sure the fog would lift again. In many ways the poor weather added to the experience. There was a sense of mystery as the mist swirled around.

By 3.30pm, nine and a half hours after arriving I felt it was time to go. I was getting tired. I was damp. The fog had descended again and my train back to Cuco was at 5pm. So it was time to leave. Irinically, back in Aguas Caliente the sun began to shine. I had enough time to buy some snacks before heading to the train. It took over 4hrs to do the 120km back to Cusco. Tired and restless I couldn´t wait to get off that train. I took a taxi back to the hostel, hit the bed and fell into a deep sleep.

Inca Ruins of Pisaq and Ollantaytambo

Wed 17th Dec: The Sacred Valley

This morning I head for the sacred valley on my way to Macchu Pichu. We ascend into the mountains and 40 mins later arrive at a small town with a "tourist compound" specially for bus tours. This is a "buy stuff" stop with nothing at all of interest. Leaving this town we progress through very scennic valleys. Passing through a narrow gorge we emerge to a stunning view of the sacred valley 1,000m below. From here we descend into the valley to the market town of Pisaq, renowned for its markets. There isn´t a market today so we proceed another 7-8km up the slopes of the far side of the valley to the old Inca settlement of Pisaq. Perched high up on the mountainside overlooking the sacred valley old Pisaq is stunning. I didn´t know what to expect and I´m blown away by it.

We get an hour to explore the ruins and it simply isn´t enough. As we leave the bus I fall in with an English lad Matt Baker, born in the eastend of London. A sound lad we chat away as we ramble over the ruins. A self contained city with agricultural terraces stepped into the mountain slopes. It has a residencial area, a sacred zone with temples, an observatory and housing for the priesthood. Its all linked together by narrow pathways which cross steep cliffs. It was an amazing location for a town. Wandering around the place both Matt and myself wondered how impressive Macchu Pichu could really be after this. Would it be an anticlimax? Reluctantly we went back to the bus. Driving back down into the valley everybody´s gaze was drawn back up to the old town. As the road switched over and back as it descended we wondered what was it like to live in such an awe inspiring location. What made the people build a city halfway up a mountain on the side of a cliff.

Back in the valley we passed through modern Pisaq and made our way into the valley following the course of the Urubamba river. Its a very fertile valley, devoted to crop production. The valley floor is full of fields cereals and vegetables all hemmed in by high steep mountains on either side. We passed through some small town before stopping at Urubamba, a fairly nondescript town in the middle of the valley. While the rest ate in an upmarket restaurant I had to organise my own food. So I stroled down the town and into a busy looking locals restaurant. I sat down and ordered fried trout from the lady who ran the place.

This lady appeared to fill the roles of manageress, grandmother and matriarch all in one. Though small in stature she looked formidable. She wore an apron over her clothes and looked as though she would throw her hand to whatever needed doing, including boxing the ear of a sullen son who was unenthusiatic waiter requiring "encouragement" to go about his work. She clucked after a small grandchild who seemed intent on all kinds of gleeful mischief which eventually had the old lady tutting and scolding after her.

The room was full of locals having their lunch and it seemed to take a few minutes before they noticed the gringo in their midst. Every sooften over the next while 3 or 4 faces would gaze impassively at me. When my meal arrived the looks I got made me feel uncomfortable. While they weren´t hostile they certainly didn´t appear to be friendly.

The meal itself was certainly worth a photo. The fried trout, with head attached, was accompanied by grilled banana, rice decoratively arranged, salad and chips. All washed down with Inka Kola. Happy after this little culinary adventure I rejoined the group and we made a 30min trip to Ollantaytambo, another town with a dramatic Inca ruin. Again myself and Matt teamed up to explore these ruins and while not as dramatic as Pisaq they were impressive nonetheless.

At the end of the visit I left the group who were going back to Cusco. I stayed on to run around the ruins for a little longer. I had some hours to pass before catching a train up to Aguas Caliente where I´d stay tonight. Ollantaytambo was a pretty little town and it was easy to kill time here. I was on the train by 8.30pm. A peruvian guy, Juan had the seat beside me and we fell into chatting ae we waited for the train to depart. Juan was from Lima and was bringing his parents on a trip to Cusco and Macchu Pichu. He was a sound fella, into his sports and was curious about rugby in Ireland. We also discussed the prospects for Ireland and Peru qualifying for the next world Cup....... Peru won´t be going!

The train journey took longer than expected and it was after 11pm when we arrived in Aguas Caliente. Here the train stops in the main street!! Its funny to see the train stop alongside shops and restaurants and souvenir stalls. I was met by a person from the hostel I was to stay at. I was shown to my room. I had a quick shower...... with lovely hot water! I went straight to bed for an early start in the morning.

Tues 16th Dec: Around Cusco

I´m up and better today. I don´t have much for breakfast just tea and bread. I meet Nicacio to sort out a ticket for Macchu Pichu. I´m not going to do a trek, not with the way my stomach is. Instead I´m going to visit some sites in the sacred valley on wednesday on my way to Aguas Caliente the closest town to Macchu Pichu. Stay there on Wed night and get up for the first bus up to the site and stay as long as I can at Macchu Pichu on Thursday before heading back to Cusco. I´m trying to get the cheapest deal on offer but I can´t help thinking there´s some big profits in ti for Nicacio. I get the ticket sorted by 10am and head over to a bus station to get a local bus to take me 6km out of town to 4 sites close to Cusco.

I get dropped off at Tambomachay, a royal spa. Its picturesque but thats about it. The most intriguing part of the visit occurs when a group of Peruvian women come over and ask to have their photos taken with myself and a French guy who happened to be sitting close by. I walked up to the next site about 600m up the road, Puka Pukara. Its a small fortress that sits at the head of a valley and defended the approaches to Cusco on one of the maind roads into town during the time of the Incas. Its stunning wee site, the panoramic views over the valley beautiful. I love me castles and forts and I was in my element here. Eventhough it was small it was up there with the nicest I´ve seen.

Leaving Puka Pukara I had a 3mile walk to the next site, atemple called Qenqo. This stretch of road has been noted for violent attacks on tourists in the past so I wasn´t sure if I was taking a risk walking alone. It was early in the day so I reckoned I´d be ok. Just in case, I picked up a rock, a bit ridiculous really. I got to Qenqo without any mishap, the only thing to come near me was a cow which burst through the bushes on the side of the road followed quickly by its owner, a woman in traditional dress who was screaming blue murder in hot pursuit. With multi-coloured petticoats swirling about and accompanied by a toddler throwing stones she chased it into the fields on the far side of the road to join up with the rest of the herd.

Qenqo was ok. I moved on to the last site overlooking Cusco, Saqsaywaman. This was impressive an enormous sacred site of the Incas with a fortified citadel overlooking all. It was a major ritual site as befitting an imperial capital. Its walls were constructed of massive blocks of stone carved to fit together seamlessly. It was here that a cataclysmic battle was fought between the Incas and Spanish conquistadors under Francisco Pizarro. The spanish fortified within the citadel of Saqsaywaman allowed a force of 20,000 incas to attack. In the ensuing battle 10,000 Inca army were massacred. On this day the Inca empire was effectively lost. The myth of Spanish invincibility struck deep. To stand among the ramparts its hard to imagine the absolute carnage which occurred here. It was a theme that was to reoccur with tragic consequences for the indigenous people. Almost appropriately a thunderstorm broke overhead. I ran over to a viewing point which held views over the city. Lightning streaked down on to nearby hills and rain began to obscure the lower parts of the town. I took it as my cue to leave. Thankfully the hostel was only 300m away down a series of steps. I enterd the hostel just as the rain began to fall.

This evening I managed to have two dinners. The last time this occured I was in Delta in the Sevier desert in Utah. I was very hungry after three days of a stomach bug and minimal food. I entered a cheap Polleria there were a few people eating in the place so I sat down. I ordered a quarter of chicken and chips. The staff were sullen. I noticed the place looked greasy and grimy. The floors were slick and dirty. I was handed a bowl of soup that was only lukewarm. When the main dish arrived it made me cringe. The chips were terrible, I had to force myself to swallow. The chicken? I reckon it was only half cooked. My stomach began to turn. Between the dirt of the place and state of the food I left the meal half eaten before I began to gag.

I walked 50yds down the street to Polleria Los Angeles. Immediately this place felt a lot better. It was clean, it was busy, the staff smiled. Why didn´t I come here in the first place? I sat down and ordered the same as before. Just as in Delta the second meal had much larger portions. After the soup I was beginning to fill up. The main course arrived with a mountain of chips alongside a well cooked chicken. Very soon I was struggling. I was still feeling quesy after the first place. I was quite full aswell but out of respect I didn´t want to leave a full plate behind me. I force fed myself and managed half the dish. By then I reckoned I could get away with leaving the remainder behind. I hid most of the remaing chips under the chicken, paid up and left. Feeling queasy and afraid of the possible consequences of the first meal I lumbered back to the Hostel.

Mon 15th Dec: Hostal Apu Wasi

My stomach was no better today. I was confined to my room. I didn´t eat for most of the day. I had plenty of tea administered sympathetically by Sonia and Rosio who had great fun listening to my faltering spanish.

In the evening I had a small amount of pasta with some soup. Otherwise I just read Frederick Forsyth´s Icon which I had picked up in a book exchange in Arequipa.

Sun 14th Dec: Cusco

Yesterday afternoon, during a period while my stomach had briefly settled down, I went to the kitchen to make

a cup of soup. Two of the girls who work in the hostel enquired how I was suspecting I had altitude sickness. I told then I wasn´t good. They recommended tea made from Coca leaves. They were busy running around the place but friendly and curious to find out where I was from. After some mugs of this Coca tea from the girls I was confident I would be ok in the morning.

When I awoke this morning I did feel better. I had a cup of tea and went out to see Cusco. Walking down narrow, cobbled street you could feel the sense of history in the place. It was exciting. Cusco was the capital of the vast Inca empire which reached its zenith in the 14th and 15th centuries AD. 14 Incas ruled from Cusco over the centuries. Each adding knew features, temples etc to the city. Much in the same way that Roman emperors did with Rome. The INca empire eventually spanned modern Peru, Ecuador, Bolivia and parts of Argentina and Chile. A period of Civil war heralded the arrival of the spanish conquistadores under Francisco Pizarro. The situation was exploited by Pizarro and brought about the rapid collapse of the empire.

The spaniards gained control of Cusco after a massacre of the INca army around the citadel od Saqsaywaman, a vast ritual site crowning a hilltop overlooking the town, barel 400m from my hostel. After this victory the Spaniards consolidated their control over Cusco and extended their influence over the region. Inca resistance was futile when faced with the latest in European weaponry. Under the spanish Cusco became a backwater as they established their capital at Lima on the coast.

Today the old town of Cusco retains its original street plan with many of the buildings resting on original inca structures or their foundations. Many lower portions of buildings today exhibit the distinctive Inca tradition of carved stone walls. The knowledge of this technique is now lost. Cusco is an attractive town with roofs of red tiles marking a notable change from the corrugated iron rooves of Argentina and Chile.

Looking around the historic sites marked a change from recent physical activities. Walking around town felt strenuous enough. I was still suffering the effect of the bug. In fact I hadn´t recovered at all and I was overdoing my exertions. I felt tired, lethargic, wholly lacking in energy. I went into an "Irish pub", Rosie O´Grady´s and saw they did a mixed grill. On this occasion my stomach cried out for some familiar food, comfort food. I hadn´t eaten in 24hrs. When the dish was delivered to me I woolfed it down hungrily, washing it down with 2 glasses of local beer. By 6pm I was back in my room, exhausted. By 7pm it was back at Montezuma´s 4th of July parade. Whizz, Bang, Splatter!!!

Sat 13th Dec: Cusco

Despite the concerns over my stomach I managed to get some patchy sleep on the bus. We arrived in Cusco at 6am and pulled into the Cruz del Sur compound. I retrieved my rucksack quickly and was one of the first passengers to head for town. The main gate of the compound had been closed on our entry leaving a small pedestrian door for access to the street. Around this door lingered 12-13 taxi men all eager for business. I never feel comfortable approaching a group like this. Mindful of all the tales of scams, thefts and express kidnappings I was quite wary. Five metres from the doorway I was greeted with a chorus of "Taxi, taxi, taxi" from a line of eager faces who began to crowd around. "Non Gracias, non gracias" I replied without breaking stride. I put my head down and stepped through the doorway. I now faced another barrage of "Taxi, taxi, taxi" from another 8-9 taxi men in the street. Again I replied "Non Gracias". This time I had to go either right or left. I had no idea which way would bring me to the centre and accomodation. I decided quickly to turn right. I walked down the street confidently as if I knew where I was going.

One guy followed after me. "Sir, you go to the centre?" he asked. I turned, smiled, nodded and replied "Si". "Sir you are going the wrong way" he informed me. Good man, Fran, nice one. Feeling somewhat sheepish I turned and hesitantly started in the opposite direction. The guy walked alongside me asking if I had accomodation. I said yes telling him the name of the hostel I was going to. He asked if I had a reservation. For some reason I said know., which was true. Immediately he handed me a business card for the hostel he represented. He introduced himself as Nicacio. I tend to avoid these situations but the card looked good the photo of the hostel looked good to and the guy was dressed smartly. His price 30 soles (eu 7.50) was what I expected for Cusco. I sized the guy up and decided to take his offer. A 5 min taxi ride later we arrived at Hostal Apu Wasi. True to his word Nicacio ushhered me into an attractive, secure and respectable guesthouse. Situated at the top of a slope overlooking the town the views were fantastic I felt somewhat lucky to have virtually stumbled over Nicacio.

I was shown my room which had its own bathroom and I lay down to sleep for a couple of hours before exploring Cusco. I was excited to be here, looking forward to what shold be one of the highlights of this trip. 20 mins later my plans for the day were going out the window, or, more appropriately, down the toilet. It was a bit like Montezuma´s revenge and the fourth of July all rolled into one. Whizz, Bang, Splatter!! My stomach which had thankfully remained relatively dormant throughout the bus journey suddenly woke up with a frenzy of activity. I hardly left the room for the next 24 hours.

Fri 12th Dec: Chivay-Arequipa

Music wakes me up so I get up and head into town to see if the Fiesta is still on the go. Its 8.30am. I have to catch a bus at 12.30 back to Arequipa so I have a few hours yet to see the craic .

As I enter the Plaza I pass a side street which was used last night as a public toilet by half the town. This morning the stench that wafts out of the street makes me cringe. When I say half the town used that street I mean just that. Young and old, male and female were squatting happily in darkness of that alleyway last night. Nobody was batting an eyelid bar me. Back in the plaza its lively enough but casualties of last nights excesses are evident enough. Bodies are slumped over benches deep in drunken slumbers. A couple of bands strike up some tunes but they are without half their compliment. Plenty of people are milling about but there is a quiet, tired air about the town. A touch of a hangover, perhaps?

The decorations are being dismantled by a sprightly group of locals. A group of musicians enter the plaza. At their head "an elder" is beingchaired shoulder high. He has a litre bottle of beer which he sprays all around, cheering exuberantly as he does so. The bottle emptys, somebody hands him another bottle and he continues. Nobody seems to mind being sprayed with beer but few people follow the group at the same time.

A lot of women are still parading around in traditional dress so I don´t know if the fiesta is still continuing but there isn´t the same buzz as yesterday. I have a little breakfast in a small cafe and top this up with an orange and banana. As I stroll around town the cramps begin to return and my stomach starts to rumble. It doesn´t feel good. I have a last wander around town, collect my rucksack from the hostel and make my way to the bus station. I go to the toilet there and my suspicions are fully confirmed. I appear to have some kind of bug. In 15mins I have to start a 3-4hr bus journey. I´m scared to think of the possible consequences.

Thankfully the journey passes without mishap. We get some great views over Chivay as the bus climbs up into the mountains, and another great view of a volcanoe up in the altiplano. Otherwise the terrain is very familiar back to Arequipa. Back on the outskirts of the city the size of Arequipa again surprises. The suburbs extend right to the lower slopes of Volcan Misty. I would not like to be living in those suburbs when Misty next erupts. Misty is an active volcao and she´s due to pop at some point in the next few years.

I have about 5hrs to kill in Arequipa before catching an overnight bis to Cusco. I´m looking forward to this its one of the big destinations on the trip with the prospect of visiting Macchu Pichu in the near future. However, my most immediate concern is my stomach. I´m not eating anything only dry bread and water. I´m afraid to eat anything with a 10hr journey coming up. I spend a while people watching in the station. One little overactive toddler keeps me amused with his antics for a while. Creating mischief for his mother. Shouting out destinations in imitation of bus company reps trouting for business at their counters. The bus station is very busy. People coming and going. One side of the station is lined by bus company ticket booths all shouting out their destinations. The opposite side is lined by small booths selling snacks etc.

By 8.30pm I´m on the Cusco bus. I´m travelling with Cruz del Sur. Unlie other bus companies this one has its own private departure lounge. You check in your luggage as at an airport, wait in the lounge and proceed to a departure gate when your bus is called. A hostess checks your ticket and ushers you on board. Its all ver slick and novel.

An hour into the journey the evening meal is served. I´m starving so I decide to chance eating it. This was followed by a game of bingo. I was down to two numbers when house was called. A film I hadn´t heard of called "August Rush" was up next. It was actually quite good. When this finished the lights were lowered and it was a case of trying to sleep. I found it hard to settle as I was very conscious of my grumbling stomach. It was a night of clenched buttocks!!

Pics of Chivay Fiesta

Thurs 11th Dec. Chivay

I'm up at 2.45am and stroll down to terminal Terrestre. Its alive with people. Admittedly half of them are asleep, some in the most uncomfortable sleeping positions I've seen. One old lady in traditional costume, her bowler hat still in place, lies at a 45 degree angle to the ground. Her two heels support her weight while she levers herself on to her backpack which rests on a seat. When I say backpack, its inaccurate. Nearly all the old women have these multipurpose shawls with which they use to carry almost anything from babies to crops feshly cut from the fields to, in this case, shopping she has acquired in the big city to be brought home somewhere up in the mountains.

I'm surprised how many people are in the bus station given the early hour but then not many buses at home depart as they do here at 1.30am or 3.30am. Arequipa is a bigger city than I had thought. It has a population of over 750,000. I begin to realise this as we pass out through the darkness towards higher ground and see the full extent of the city illuminated across the plain. The bus is full as we leave the terminal but it still stops to pick up passengers in the suburbs. Most stand in the aisle, some of the older ladys, bronzed faces wizened and creased with age, their loaded shawls wrapped around their back, sit on the floor and doze, bowler hat tipped at an awkward angle. On the edge of town we befin the steep ascent into the highlands.

By the time dawn breaks we're high up in the mountains. My ears have popped a couple of times on the ascent. The journey has felt almost stop start as the driver accelerates along windy mountain roads only to slow to a crawl behind a fully loaded and frustratingly slow lorry. As he overtakes the next vehicle I look down over precipitous drops which seem to fall away for a couple of thousand meteres to a distant valley floor. The road climbs higher. We hit the Altiplano at 4, 800m. Its the highest I've been on land. Its bleak but beautiful up here, some poor grazing but mostly dry rocky ground and snowcapped peaks.

To be honest I'm not really enjoying it. I need to go to the loo and there aint no toilet on this jalopy. The journey turns out to be a lot longer than I was informed otherwise I wouldn't have had any liquids before leaving. However I feel I'm stuck as my bladder is uncomfortably full and I'm hanging on for dear life.

At the highest point of the journey the paved road ends on we hit a rough gravel surface. The road becomes a pothole minefield and the journey becomes a bone rattler, utter misery for me with a full bladder. I've been hanging on for the last while thinking we should nearly be there. Its 6am and I was told it was a two and a half hour journey to Chivay. I ask the guy next to me how long more before we reach Chivay and he says about 90 mins. I nearly wet myself. I drag myself up the aisle, around people, over old women, trying not to run. I plead with the driver to let me off and thankfully he doesn't seem to mind. He stops the bus, I nearly run through the door before its open and rush to the back of the bus to preserve my dignity. Of course the zipper sticks and have a moment of extreme anxiety before it unsticks. I bless the ground at nearly 5,000m. And blessed it surely was!! I rush back on board thanking the driver and mightily relieved, indeed exalted, I retake my seat.

I talk to the guy next to me, Guido, from Arequipa. He's a civil engineer and overseeing the construction of a science block in the local school. Through broken English and Spanish we tell our stories. 90 mins later we descend into a beautiful valley which holds the small town of Chivay. At 7.30am I'm walking through the streets and I could swear I can hear a band playing somewhere in the vicinity. Surprisingly the town centre is alive with people at this hour. The main plaza is festooned with decorations which I presume are for Christmas. After some minutes with my bags I'm panting. I'm not sure what altitude Chivay sits at but it must be high. The town itself is a rustic wee place, nestled benath the high Andean mountains. The main plaza is pretty but readiating away from here are dusty unpaved streets with at times ramshackle buildings housing small grocery stores, little restaurants and the odd internet cafe full of kids playing their favourite video games. Here and there local dogs frolic around or doze. Peeping over garden walls are the odd donkey or a horned cow. Every street leads to views of nearby fields or mountain slopes. As I said it was a rustic wee place. I'm looking for Calle Sucre, the street where my hostel is situated. 5 mins later I'm knocking on the door. This hostel is located in a small walled compound with its own courtyard. Everybody's up and I'm let in through a small doorway in the gate. I got a room 'con banyo' and bargained the owner down from 30 soles to 20 (5euro).

I was very tired so I lay down for a couple of hours rest before looking around. 10 mins later as I'm drifting off to sleep I'm disturbed by the crash of cymbals and the blast of trumpets. A brass band comes marching by the house. There's no chance of sleep now. A marching band!!! and its not even 8.00 in the morning. I couldn't understand the reason for it. I stay in bed until 10 and, hearing the music approach again I get up to investigate. As the band approached I went up on to a terrace on the floor above And I see a group of dancers in costume coming ahead of the band. I thought it might be a wedding procession but there was nobody to ask.

I get dressed and go down town to see whats going on. I see there isn't just one band but a few around town. There are two in the plaza each with their own troupe of dancers in bright traditional costumes. By now there a large crowd has congregated in town. Bottles of beer are being consumed by all. Drummers bangin out the rhythm vigorously, trunpets and trombones alternating within the music. It turns out this is a fiesta to celebrate the feast of the immaculate conception and the music and dancing continues all day. The fact that the music and dance doesn't change at all throughout the day doesn't matter one bit to the participants everybody appears to be having a great time. THe great thing about the spectacle is that you can go a way for a couple of hours and come back and you really haven't missed anything.

In the afternoon I decide to go looking for the famous Colca canyon which is supposed to be right beside Chivay. I go towards some hot springs which I mistakenly believe lie on the same road as the canyon. An hour later I'm at the springs but no sign of the canyon. I don't mind. I spend an hour or so soaking in the indoor and outdoor mineral pools. When I stand up out of the hot water I almost faint with dizziness. I have to steady myself. I get a collectivo back into town because I feel too tired to walk back. I don't know if its me or the heat of the pools but I feel very tired. I squeeze into the front of the car and join 6 others, a boot full of agricultural produce and a huge blind alsation which accompanies its owner, an ancient old woman. Both sit in the boot on top of all the crops. The produce is heading for the market in town which is buzzing today with all the people in for the fiesta.

As the evening progresses and darkness falls over Chivay the fiesta begins to reach its climax. Throughout the day bands came and went through the plaza but there was always one or two bands playing continuously. Now all the bands have converged together and waltz around the square. Hundreds of dancers now throng the streets, each attached to a particular band. Every so often a tipsy lady or gent grabs someone from the throng and joins the lines of dancers in what appears to be a revved up Peruvian version of the stacks of Barley. Its very elegant and colourful with most of the dancers in costume. With the decorations now lit up the plaza is a riot of colour.

I eat in a side street off the plaza in a little family restaurant. I lad in his teens serves me. He´s very polite, very unsure of himself, lacking confidence but very earnestly making an effort. I ask him some questions about the fiesta but either he doesn´t understand me or he´s not sure himself. Eithere way he can´t answer my questions. I have a bowl of pasta soup with a delicious subtle hint of fresh mint and a main course of rice and strips of dry, stringy llama meat. Its different but I don´t think I´ll be rushing back to eat llama in future. WHen I pay I tip the lad. He´s delighted with himself. Beaming a smile he says in English "Thank you very much". I walk out into the darkness smiling. Since early afternoon I have not been feeling well. I´ve felt tired and lethargic. In the evening I begin to feel twinges of cramp in my stomach. Every so often I feel a sharp little pinch in the muscles, uncomfortable, mildly painful but no more. The fiesta continues in full swing as I have to head for bed. Down in the Plaza the town of Chivay is still rockin to brass bands and latin music. The fiesta continues well into the night and beyond.

Wed 10th Dec: Arequipa

I have a sleep in this morning. I´m not going to do a whole lot today. I´ll visit Monaterio Santa Catalina which will take a while and is recommended not to be missed. I´m reading the Adventures of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, regarded as childrens literature I know but Mark Twain is a fantastic writer. I visited Hannibal in Missouri in the summer. This was Twain´s childhood home and the inspiration and location for the adventures in these books. I promised I´d read them after being interviewed so I have the books now and I´m flying through them.

Late in the morning I take a taxi into the centre and head for the monastery. It was built around 1570. 30yrs after the spanish established control over the district and began to build their colonial settlement. Over the years the monastery gained high prestige . It housed approx 40 nuns, drawn to the religious life from the nobility of the surrounding district. While the nus forsook civilian life and shut themselves behind the walls of the monastery they didn´t live a spartan life by any means. The seemed to have kept themselves by the means to which they were accustomed. The monastery itself is a beautiful town within a town, with streets, plazas and sumptuous cells. All built from the volcanic rock of the district.

Afterwards I ate. I was going to eat in the same restaurant as yesterday but , at the last moment decided to go into a locals place in the same street. This turned out to be a bit of a ramshackle joint and the food was.... spartan. Indeed, I had to try and force some of it down.

Another of the features of the traffic in Arequipa are the local bus services. These are, for the most part, converted little Hiace vans. They zip around town in swarms. They each have conductors who lean out of the sliding side doors to shout out their destinations to prospective passengers. A s the bus swerves into the side of the street, seemingly at random, the conductor, hanging from the door jumps into the pavement, shouting to all and sundry. Its all fast, rapid. The passengers pile in, the conductor jumps in after them and the driver accelerates back into the traffic. They pass a rival minibus and the conductor shouts a pleasantry into the driver, laughing as they whizz past. Conduting for Dublin Bus was never this exciting!!

I got my ticket for tomorrows destination, Chivay. This town sits at the head of one of the world´s deepest canyons at over 3,000m deep. The bus to Chivay leaves at 3.30am so I have an early start.

Tuesday 9th Dec: Arequipa

People seem to get up early here. People began to stir from about 4am. Its a big hostel, not a backpacker joint. THere seems to be a lot of workers and long term residents but no backpackers. Twice there were attempts to open my door. The first time a kid started messing at it before his mother called him away. A short while later an adult tried opening it. This put me on my guard. I didn´t even have my trusty penknife which I´d used to ward off all kinds of wild animals in America.

I got up at 9am. I considered moving to a different hostel, not because of the attempts on my door but because the shared toilet/ shower was manky. After thinking about it for a few minutes I did nothing, too lazy. I went out to have a look at Arequipa. Its an old colonial town. Built by the spanish in the 1540´s, presumably over an older Inca settlement. Overlooking the town is El Misti a volcanoe which dominates the skyline at 5, 800m high. I decided to walk the 3km into town. I passed a market area, with fruit, veg and all kinds of stalls. Thereçs a distinct whiff of stale urine along the roadside. I buy a meat and veg empanada (pie) from a lady for my breakfast and get directions from her into town. There were no street names so after a while I wasn´t sure if I was going in the right direction. I was following my nose. Always the intrepid traveller I took out my map and compass and hailed a taxi. It really wasn´t that difficult after all.

The taxi dropped me off at the Plaza de Armas, the heart of the old town. My first thought was "This is impressive". The plaza in enlosed on three sides by a colonnaded walkway. The fourth side is spanne by the city´s cathedral. All of the buildings in this part of the city are built from a local white volcanic rock, sillar. It gives a very distinctive appearance to the colonial buildinge of the centre. The old town is very spanish looking with its 16th and 17th century buildings and churches. Its very different to mos to the towns of senn before now.

I visit a museum which holds ´the ice maiden´, "Juanita" . She was discovered in 1995 on one of the local volcanoes. She was an Inca sacrifice, intended to placate to the gods believed to emanate from the volcanoes. The museum illustrates the tradition of human sacrifice among the Incas 500yrs ago. Juanita was 13yrs old when she died on the top of a volcanoe over 6,00m high. her body remains intact, frozen and preserved by the permafrost at that altitude and is now on dislay in a specially controlled display in the museum. She was most likely from a noble inca family, chosen as a toddler for her beauty and reared in one of the temples at Cusco, the imperial Inca Capital. When the time came for her sacrifice. The high priesthood brought her and a retinue of approx 50 on the 200km trek to the volcanoe, climbed to over 6,00m and performed the riual in which Juanito was sacrificed. Its a tragic yet compelling story particularly when you stand before the individual concerned. All the grave goods which accompanied her are on display and help to illustrate the inca culture from which she was taken.

I take a taxi back to the hostel in the afternoon. Travelling by taxi in Arequipa is a bit of and experience. There are very few traffic lights in the town and every junction is a 50!50 race to see who holds their nerve, and the "racing line". Its like a game of chicken. He who holds his nerve the longest gets to drive through the junction without stopping. The city is full of these small yellow taxis, Daewoo Ticos. They are tiny , zippy little things, emninently suited nipping in and out of traffic in the confines of Arequipaçs centre. It appears all the taxi drivers have seen the 60çs film "The Italian Job" and spend their working hours trying to recreate the great chase through the centre of Turin. Approaching a succession of "battleground" junctions I cançt help humming to myself "Self preservation society". My driver is the "real" Michael Caine as he weaves through traffic, accelerates through junctions scaring the bejaysus out of some pedestrians while informing me of the current state of Peruvian football. After a breathless spin around town the driver couteously delivers me to my side of town.

I donçt do a whole lot for the rest of the evening. I stay on my side of town not bothering to go back into the centre. I get a bite to eat. I go for a stroll for a while, watching the streetscape change as darkness falls. The local restaurants fill up. Street vendors appear on the walkways with small portable kitchens. illuminated by street lights they have tiny counters and room enough for 2 people to sit and eat by the roadside. When I ate earlier in the old town at a small restaurant I was waited on by an attentive old gent. he knew exactly what I wanted as I entered. He stood chest high to me with neat greying hair and a demeanour that suggested he ran his enterprise efficiently and politely. I, or he, Içm not sure, ordered a sopa, quarter pollo y papas fritas for 6 soles. I asked for an orange fanta, he poured the drink into a glass for me. During the meal as I drained the fanta from the glass he came over and topped up pouring the remainder from the bottle. He asked if the meal was ok. Of course it was. At the end of the meal I tipped him. He smiled, thanked me nodding his head graciously. A gent

Monday 8th Dec: Into Peru

Dawn breaks and we are travelling through a deep gorge. The road snakes up and out of the chasm onto a flat desert. We follow this landscape mor or less continuously until we reach Arica. Arica is the noerthernmost town in Chile, next stop is Peru. Leaving the bus I get a burst of energy. 20 mins earlier I was tired and listless but now I feel as though I have an adrenalin surge.

Tacna across the border in Peru is only 40km away. I decide to get a collectivo from the station. It operates like a taxi but you wai until the car is full before it departs. Its cheap €4 for the journey which I share with 4 others. We stop twice to complete border formalities, then the car speeds up the road to Tacna. We pass through more desert, a continuation of the Atacama. We reach Tacna.

This place looks to be a dusty ramshackle of a town. Its certainly not attractive. Already the people look different to those in Chile. Leaving the taxi the driver asks me if I´m going to Arequipe and I say yes. I intend to but not until tomorrow. One of my fellow passengers says he´ll show me the correct bus terminal as there are more than one here. I follow the guy across the road to the other terminal.

Five mins later I have a wad of Peruvian soles, a bus ticket to Arequipe and I´m dashing through traffic to a third bus terminal for a coach which is just about to leave any moment. Two Peruvians are shouting instructions at me as I run no doubt having a good old laugh at the smelly, flustered gringo who could well miss his connection. I was planning to stay here and rest for the day but events have almost run away with me. It happened so fast I have that culture shock feeling as I rush not knowing what bus I have to take.(A new currency, was I getting ripped off?, mental calculation,...no, I don´t think so. Bus fare, how much is that in Euros? What is the Sol to the Euro? I have to pay a departure tax... oh I didn´t know that. Where is the bus?..... What!!!! a third terminal?? Where?...... the bus is leaving!!! Run, Run!! Jaysus where´s this F***** terminal!!) I get the bus. When I sit down a guy with a cam corder comes down the aisle recording everybody onboard, just in case there´s a kidnapping!! I feel really secure know!!

A few minutes later we´re on the open road. There´s a nice cool breeze on this bus I relax. I don´t feel so uncomfortable now. I spend the time watching the countryside go by looking at whats on the tv. Any time we stop. People come onborad selling snacks, drinks and pastries of some sort or other etc. It becomes amusing to try and guess what the next set of vendors will be offering at subsequent stops.

The only big town en route to Arequipe is Moquegua. Here the vendors swarm around the bus, shouting at the windows, displaying their wares on prongs which can be raised to a passenger who wishes to buy. After Moquegua we enter hill country and pass through high ground until we reach Arequipe. Peru is two hours behind Chile at the moment and we arrive at 4pm in the afternoon. By now I´m tired. This last leg of the journey from La Serena has taken 32hrs. In the past week I´ve spent 90hrs on buses. I need to rest. I get a room in a cheap hostel for 15 Soles (€4). And it is cheap, not the lap of luxury by any means but I only need a bed to sleep.

I go out and get a bite to eat in a small restaurant nearby. Its 6 Soles (€1.50) for a 2-course meal. A bowl of soup and chicken and chips. The soup was gran but as I emptied the bowl an intact chickens claw emerged from the liquid. I didn´t try to chew on that. My first impressions of the people are that they´re not that friendly but I´m staying on the edge of town, 3km from the centre, beside the bus station, rarely the nicest of neighbourhoods. Its gets dark by 7pm here, a big change from Patagonia. By 9pm I´m asleep.

More Pics of the Atacama

Sun 7th Dec: Into the Atacama desert

After Breakfast in the guesthouse I head for the Bus station and the 10am departure for Arica. This is another long ride, 22hrs. As the bus heads north the landscape turns barren. Gradually the vegetation becomes sparse. We climb up over a low hill and suddenly there´s no vegetation, just sand, rock and dust. We have entered the Atacama desert. This is a parched region, one of the driest on the earth. Yet for all that it looks beautiful. YOu could be on a different planet, Mars. The landscape varies. Sometimes its flat, sometimes there are mountains in the distance. We follow the coast occasionally before pressing inland for a while only to encounter the coastline again some while later. There aren´t many towns along this stretch. During the first 10hrs we pass through three, maybe four.

When we stop I make sure to get out and stretch. My ankles swelled after the last long journey and I´m afraid of it happening again. There aren´t many colours in the desert but plenty of different shades of brown, cream purple and pink. Contrasting these colours with the clouds and deep blue of the sky makes for some beautiful scenes. We travel through the desert for hour after hour

I don´t like this bus. Its hot, the air conditioning doesn´t work. The tv screens don´t work, the window beside me feels as though its about to fall out. It rattles constantly. Also, there´s an almighty stench from the toilet. However outside is a gorgeous sunset. darkness closes in rapidly. Around 10.30pm we reach Antofagasta, a large coastal city renowned for its busy port. Approaching the city in darkness makes for an impressive sight. The lights of the city sparkle as they sweep around a gentle arcing bay. They stretch up gradually inland uphill to a ridge overlooking the waterfront. In the distance we are confronted by an impressive array of golden light as though thousands of candles were flickering in the darkness ahead. We stop off here so I jump off, stretch and go to the toilet in the bus terminal.

We take on a lot of passengers here in Antofagasta. I had both seats to myself all day but now I´m joined by a middle aged lady. The bus is full now and the discomfort levels increase as the uncomfortably warm and sticky. Antofagasta lies on the tropic of Capricorn so we are set to enter the tropics now.

I´m wearing a t-shirt I´ve worn on the last two long haul journeys (60hrs). At this stage I don´t see the point in wearing clean clothes on ling bus rides. But I do think I´ve over done it on this occasion. As the humidity levels through the night I begin to wonder if the stench really was from that toilet..... or from my slick T-Shirt!! I become very self conscious in the dark. I try not to move, conscious of the waft emanating every time I move my arms. I cringe when the lady beside me turns away from me. Maybe that was just paranoia on my part.....I hope!! She falls asleep leaning against me and then begins to snore. I can´t sleep. I´m hot, sticky, smelly and afraid to move. It was so much simpler on the bike. I didn´t have to worry about being smelly around people. I didn´t have to be concerned with some elderly woman snoring on my shoulder. I fold my arms in a huff!!

I don´t sleep very well at all. I doze for short periods of time but keep waking up. I´m too hot and uncomfortable. I can´t wait to get to Arica. I tell myself when we get there I´ll stay for the day and just sleep wherever I get a bed.

Sat 6th Dec: La Serena

It was very quiet last night. I slept well. The house did breakfast for an extra $1,000 (eu 1.20) so I ate in the guesthouse. It was a good breakfast, the proprietors obviously making an effort to impress on their first morning.

Later, I went down to the beach, about 1knm away and spent the early part of the day there. Its overcast today but warm. I watched the surf rolling in and some novice surfers struggling to remain on their surfboards in the waves. By lunchtime the sun came out and I had to scuttle back to the accomodation to get a hat. Also My feet and lower legs had started to burn as I hadn´t put suncream. You´d think I´d have learned by now!! I was a while back in the room, mucking about, with the tv on. Then the landlady appeared at my door with a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. It was a lovely gesture, great service altogether! Her kids popped in to see what I was watching on telly but they were shooed away by her in doublequick time.

The rest of the afternoon was spent between eating and looking araound town. I stocked up with bits and bobs for my next bus journey, tomorrow, to Arica in the far north of Chile. Its another of the long ones. 22hrs this time.

Fri 5th Dec: To La Serena

I woke up around 6am and we had left behind the lush, green landscape of Chile´s lake district. We´re on the outskirts of Santiago now and the urban sprawl intensifies as we head towards the city and its bus terminal.

We reach the terminal around 7.30. I´m not stopping in Santiago on this occasion. I find out the time of the next bus to La Serena, about 7hrs North of here on the coast. It seems to be a nice city. Me buddy Joe recommended it so I´m hoping it will be a good stopover on the journey up to Peru. I have an hour to wait. The bus pulls out at 8.30 into Santiago´s morning rush hour but its a surprisingly quick ride out to the city´s outskirts. As we join the motorway north the driver accelerates to cruise along the open road.

The cattle, shhep, ostriches and flamingos of the south are gone. The pastureland has been replaced by a drier, brown arable land. There are vineyards, orchards and plots growing different crops. Barren looking hills and low mountains hem in the narrow fertile valleys. Most of the work in the fields seem to be done by manual labour. I see only one tractor during the next 6hrs. There are plenty of people in the fields hoeing or stooped over to tend to plants.

We leave the agricultural district and enter a barren region. The land is littered with scrub bushes and tall cactii, the mountains remain the same. Suddenly they fall away on the left handside and a view of the ocean opens up, cool grey under overcast skies. We follow the coast all the way up to La Serena, stopping once for a food break, reaching the city in the mid-afternoon.

La Serena is Chile´s second oldest city. Founded on Sept 4th, 1544, a good day!! It was built to provide a sea link between Lima and Santiago. It still retains much of its 16th and 17th century buildings so with its seaside location it remains a picturesque location. La Serena has a twin. There are basically two cities in one here. La Serena occupies a sweeping bay with 4km of beach and surf. On the south side of the bay a small headland protrudes and curves northward. Coquimba occupies this headland and faces La Serena across the bay. The town is marked by a distinctive 96m tall crucifix which light up at night. Not quite Rio but distinctive all the same.

The guesthouse I stay in tonight is brand new. This is its first night of business and I´m the second person through the doors. I take the cheapest option, a 4-bed dorm, and gamble that because the place is so new that I´ll have the room to myself. I lie down for 2hrs and struggle to get up at 6pm. I have a shower, cold, and this wakes me up.

I go out to have alook at La Serena. I first look for a bite to eat as I´m starving. A bowl of seafood soup and half a chicken and chips later my hunger is sated. With my stomach happy I go for a wander. The town does have plenty of character with its 16th century churches and fine old streets and plazas. It was a bright and breezy evening. Plenty of people were milling about the streets. Many of the bars were full with workers lounging around sipping beer and chatting after the days work. It was nice not to see throngs of backpackers in the place. There were some but nothing like the concentration in Puerto Natales and other places. As It got dark I returned to the dorm. the landlady had kindly put a tv in the dorm. I watched some tv and quickly fell asleep.

Thurs 4th Dec: Hydrospeed

I really hope there are enough people for hydrospeed today. I leave on a night bus for Santiago this evening so Its my last chance. This morning is beautiful and clear. You can see the volcanoe today. Yesterday it was smothered in cloud.

I go over to the centre and, thankfully, Hydrospeed is on at 2pm. I have a few hours to kilee so its back on to the computer to do the blog and a quick chat with Padraig who´s online again. Pad tells me the breaking news that Roy Keane has resigned from Sunderland. Its a bit of a shock. I thought he´d do well as a manager.

After a quick lunch it was onto the hydrospeed. I´m much more comfortable in the water than in the kayak and can´t wait to get on the river. Its a great buzz. THere´s 7 in the group this time including an Irish lad from Dublin. A Belgian lad and an Austrian both studied in Galway and were happy to talk about the west.

The hydrospeed flew by, too fast, again. No crashes this time. Afterwards I had a few hours to kill but by 9pm I was on the bus and leaving lovely Pucon behind. This evening Volcan Villarrica was really smoking. It looked really impressive with clouds of vapour streaming from the summit. Very soon after leaving Pucon it was dark. I tried to settle down as best I could to sleep. I´m on a cheap bus, the cheapest out of Pucon. Its not as comfortable as the other buses I´ve been on so it will be interesting to see if I can sleep tonight. The film "The Rock" with Sean Connery and ??? is on in Spanish. It makes my eyelids feel very heavy.

Wed 3rd Dec: Back in Pucon

I´m back in Pucon to do the hydrospeed again and to break up the journey north. I´m looking forward to getting back in the river. Its very overcast this morning when I get up. I buy breakfast in the supermarket and head back to tje hostel to eat. I get talking to a German windsurfer, Josh, who is the image of Liverpool´s John Arne Riise. He was in Ireland during September to windsurf, staying at Easkey and in Brandon bay. He trots out all the "Oirish" words he´s picked up in Kerry and we have a great laugh at the hilarity of it all!! He´s sound enough but the "Oirish" words come out a little too frequently.

I went over to check if Hydrospeed was on today (You need a minimum number). I killed a couple of hours on the internet doing the blog and "chatting" to Padraig who was online. They weren´t sure so I was told to check back at 1pm. When I called back hydrospeed was off as I was the only interested party. This was disappointing but they said I could try "Ducky" instead which was on for 2pm along the same stretch of river as we´d done Hydrospeed before. Ducky is an inflatable kayak, basically for learners. I decided to go along.

The others in the group were four lads from Luxembourg. They were given two 2-man rafts. I was in a 1-person kayak. There were 5-6 kayakers along for the spin as well. It was a good laugh but I was terrible. I fell out at every set of rapids. At the largest set I missed a very necessary left hand turn and got mashed as I fell into a set of rocks. It was a bit like watching Homer Simpson falling downstairs. Those who saw me winced and laughed at the same time. Apart from a few bruises I emerged at the bottom fine but gasping for air. Its great when there´s no harm done. Back at the centre there were a few beers for us. I found out that the volcanoe climb had been cancelled today due to the weather conditions. Since I left Pucon 2 weeks ago that climb has been cacelled for 6 days straight due to adverse weather so I think I was quite lucky to get climbing it when I did.

Tues 2nd Dec: To Pucon

I slept relatively well through the night, waking with everyone else around 6am. It was bright outside and we were entering the hill country of the lake district. This morning myself and Joe were a lot more chatty. Me in slow, halting pidgin Spanish and he talking rapidly. My dictionary/phrasebook was used repeatedly. Joe also used it when I couldn´t understand what he was saying. Pointing to the relevant word in spanish so I could read the english translation.

Travelling along gravel roads the bus picked up two punctures. We stopped in Esquel, a pretty town, for an hour while repairs were administered. This gave some of us time to get to a supermarket to buy bits and bobs for breakfast. Behind schedule now the bus didn´t stop again until we got to the border, passing through the lake district and Bariloche with all due haste. I got a photo with Joe at the Chilean border under a map of his home region. He was all excited now as he was going to point out all the natural splendour we were about to see. I took out my guidebook and Joe pointed out towns which were particularly nice to visit. The Chapter on Argentina was discreetly overlooked!! Then we reentered Chile. For Joe a land of milk and honey but to be fair this part of Chile is beautiful.

We got to Osorno around 6pm. Myself and Joe shook hands and bade farewell "Los hermanos del Quattro Septiembre.!!" I expected to have to stay in Osorno this evening which wasn´t the most appealing. I checked to see if there was an evening bus to Pucon and, sure enough, there was one leaving at 6.45. Great!! it means I´ll get to Pucon tonight. I paid for a ticket and bwalking away from the counter bumped into an American I had met in the Hostel in San Martin. After all the camaraderie of the last 36hrs this was a mood changer. When I left San Martin I was hoping I wouldn´t see this guy again. He was a boorish, moody know-it-all. Thankfully our meeting was brief. He was getting an overnight bus to Santiago. I made my excuses and got away from him. Relieved to be away from him.

While I waited for the bus a small pup, lost or abandoned and obviously scared crept into a corner formed by rucksack and a wall. It looked out from its alcove at the hustle and bustle of the bus terminal. When the bus arrived I felt bad taking the rucksack leaving the wee pup once again exposed.

This bus was ridiculously hot and sticky. No airconditioning on this one. I was grateful when the bus pulled away and picked up speed on the motorway, allowing a breeze to blow through the open roofhatches. Thankfully the sun went down, and with it the heat. I was tired now. It was dark. I just wanted to get to Pucon.

We arrived in Pucon around 11pm. I went to a different hostel from the last time I was in Pucon. Hospedaje Victor, just around the corner from the bus station. I went into a 4-bed dorm but had the room to myself. After a quick shower I managed a hastily grabbed snack from a shop about to close for the night. I gratefully went to sleep, 40hrs after leaving Puerto Natales.

Mon 1st Dec: Leaving Patagonia

I take the 7am bus towards Punta Arenas. I´ll change at Kon Aiken for the Osorno bus and then its the long loop through southern Argentina via the Atlantic coast, and the Andes back into Chile. The bus is full leaving Puerto Natales. As well as a sprinkling of backpackers there are a lot of very ditinctive looking gauchos and ranch hands by the looks of them. Rural people, they were berets, not in the french style but more like the caps which were so popular at home 15-20yrs ago. One guy with a wether beaten, tanned, craggy face wears a green knitted cap with a bobble on top. The conductor on this bus looks like a right character. He has almost shifty eyes with greying hair and moustache. He looks like he could be on tv as a mafia don or a new york detective (Law and Order??). He has a certain presence that tells you he´s in control.

We head south from Puerto Natales onto a rolling plain generously sprinkled with windswept trees, all leaning in the direction of the prevailing wind. The morning brightens, a sprinkling of clouds above. We pass estancias (ranches). Everso often the conductor shouts down the aisle to waken a sleeping gaucho to let him know his stop is next. There´s real familiarity here. Everybody seems to know everyone else. Translated from rural Chilean to rural Ireland the conductor´s routine might sound as follows.

"Seamie,.......... Seamie Valdez!! Your stop is next!! .....Seamie...???

"Ara Jaysus... for f**** sake is Valdez asleep again!!??

"Jaysus, Tady would ya ever give yer man next ta ya a puck and wake him up!! ........... Thanks Tady."

Seamie!!??..... Good man Seamie!! Fair play, are ya back with us??....... "Come up here quick or ya´ll miss yer stop!"

Seamie, a small wiry tanned gent, bleary eyed and dressed in cotton shirt and brown woollen jumper, shuffles up to the front with a small rucksack. The conductor, smiling, takes the rucksack from Seamie, allowing him to steady himself. Ushering Seamie into the front cab the conductor gives him a generous pat on the back. He leans into Seamie, conspiratorially, and says

"Come in here quick.... Wait´ll I tell ya..... Have ya heard the latest from the Hernandez ranch??......"

The conductor proceeds to give him all the latest gossip.

Moments later the bus stops. The conductor opens the door, Seamie steps down and the conductor hands down his rucksack, uttering a last few words of wisdom. As the bus pulls away Seamie beams a smile and waves farewell. The conductor answers with a friendly thumbs up.

This scene is repeated as the bus approaches the next estancia. Sometimes three or four ranch hands crowd into the front cab as the conductor regales them with a humorous tale. Peals of laughter from the front kepp everone who isn´t dozing amused. There´s no need for newspapers on this bus. In between times the conductor doles out drinks of coffee from a large flask into small plastic tumblers. He delivers these to all the passengers on a small plastic tray.

By 9.10am we haven´t arrived at Kon Aiken. I expected to have changed buses by now so I´m getting fidgety looking out the window. I´m sitting at the fron of the bus just behind the drivers cab. The conductor glances at me. moments later I see him writing on a scrap of paper. Finished writing he holds up the piece of paper and presses it against the cab window in front of me to read. It says "El autobus...... Punta Arenas 9.30........ Kon Aiken 10.00 horas." He nods with a knowing look, points to his wrist, gives me a thumbs up and an almost north Leitrim style wink. I have to say I was really impressed. I relaxed again in the knowledge we wouldn´t miss our connection. I had the height of respect for him. I smiled to myself. A real Character!!

We reached Kon Aiken around 9.30. About 7-8 of us got off here and the conductor retrieved our rucksacks from the luggage compartment. I thanked the conductor as he handed me my rucksack. He gave me a slap on the shoulder wishing me bueno viaje - good journey.

Kon Aiken marks the most southerly point for me. Its merely a small police/customs post in the middle of nowhere. Waiting for the bus from Punta Arenas I chatted to an Aussie couple and the first thing they commented on was how much of a character that bus conductor was. A short while later we were on the bus bound for Osorno, heading for Rio Gallegos and Argentina.

On this journey I was backtracking over the same country I´d crossed 10 days earlier so it was familiar terrain. I was sitting beside a Chilean guy. Passing through Rio Gallegos the police came on to note our details so it was out with the passports and identity cards. I had my passport open and the guy beside me started to read my details. He suddenly got excited and started talking to me. He pointed at my passport and then indicated my date of birth and showed me his identity card. His date of birth was 4th September, the same as me. Suddenly we were best buddies. He was a year older than me and it seemed therefore that he was keen to take me under his wing and look out for me. His name was Joe. Laughing he told me (in Spanish, he had no English) that it was an English name.

Joe extolled the beauty of Chile. The lovely trees, mountains, waterfalls and lakes, much nicer than Argentina!! He didn´t know I´d already been to that part of Chile but I knew he wasn´t exaggerating. He´s from Castro, a small town on the island of Chiloe, south of Puerto Montt. He indicated the food there was great. I struggled to follow his rapid spanish but I think I got the gist of it.

Other than the border checks the bus didn´t stop all day until 10pm. We stopped for a food break at a small restaurant in a town south of Commodoro Rivadavia. For the previous hour Joe had been indicating we´d be stopping for food soon. He also indicated he was starving. I sat at a table by myself while Joe, at a table chatting with others, kept a paternal view over proceedings. The waitress here wasn´t great. For some reason she appeared not to want to give me any bread. (You always get bread with your meal here). When she spoke I couldn´t understand a word she was saying (Normally I understand the meaning if not all the words when somebody speaks to me) She made no effort to clarify what she was saying to the gringo. Joe noticed this, said something to the waitress and when she still didn´t bring the bread he gave me some from his plate. It was a nice gesture by him.

By 11.30 we were all fed and back on board and the bus drove into the darkness northwest for the lake district and Chile. Joe smiled, took out a can of beer for a nightcap. He offered me one but I politely declined. He downed his drink and fell into a contented sleep.

Sun 30th Nov. Puerto Natales

We got back to Puerto Natales around 11pm last night and I got a room back in Nikos guesthouse where I´d stored my rucksack. I slept well after the Torres del Paine jaunt and today is a fairly laidback day before tomorrows long journey back north. I had a look around Puerto Natales and spent a good deal of time on the blog trying to update it. I ate well.

The weather brightened up here today, warm enough for a t-shirt. The town was very quiet today, very sleepy. It wasn´t until late afternoon that people began to appear on the streets. Puerto Natales isn´t the most attractive of towns by any means. But on a bright sunny day it does have a certain drab appeal (perhaps I´m just glad to be away from the Torres!!). On abright day its buildings look almost quaint. On a wet day they look dreary, windswept and rundown.

I have a bus ticket to Osorno for 7am tomorrow morning. Thats a 36hr bus ride back up into the middle of Chile. Most of the journey, however, will be spent through Argentina as the road network through Chilean Patagonia isn´t complete. I´m glad I´ve seen the Torres del Paine but I´m just as glad to be leaving it. I just didn´t take to it for whatever reason. I now start to head north for Ecuador. I´ll stop off for a couple of days in Pucon but otherwise the trek up through Chile is going to be pretty fast. I´ve spent enough time in the south.

Sat 29th Nov: Torres Del Paine (Day 2)

Up at 8am. I had a reasonable sleep but I´m not a great sleeper in a tent. Most of the campsite are getting up now as well. I want to be off at 9am because its going to be a long day. I have 30km to cover to the campsite I intend reaching tonight. It will be a 10hr hike so I don´t want to leave too late. Beside in a tent are three lads I was talking to yesterday. One of the lads is from Tralee and bought stuff in Lots this summer. He speaks highly of his purchases (He dealt with Kevin)....... and so he should!!! (LOTS... for the world in Furnishings www.lotsworldwide.com) Yesterday they were all friendly but this morning they are distant and off hand. I think they think that I want to join them on the trail but I have no intention of doing so. However they´re attitude hurts a little. Its another example of a "pack" attitude that I´ve encountered once or twice before this summer.

I leave the campsite with a little cloud of annoyance because of those guys attitude. By the way these guys are the only people to have brought litres upon litres of water into a park which has the purest water in the world. I took my water directly out of the streams and not once suffered any stomach upset. These guys also missed the ferry yesterday, an almost impossible task. And reckoned they´d be on the trail at 6am today. As I leave at 9am, Dads army are nowhere near ready... and planning to the same route as me??.......Good luck lads!!!

Its cooler this morning, overcast, but good for hiking with a full pack. It looks like it may rain at any time. There isn´t a breath of wind after yesterdays strong gusts. I pass by a peak which has a glacier coming down its slopes. The upper slopes are hidden by swirling clouds. I hear what at first I think are thunder claps. This makes me quicken my pace. But then I notice puffs of falling snow occur when the thunder sounds. I´m looking at avalanches.

For most of the day I follow along the base of a set of peaks which will eventually open up to form a narrow valley through which lie the famous Torres. On my right I´m following a lake. I´m tired and still irritated by the attitude of those guys. I know I´m being oversensitive but its difficult to shake the annoyance. I wonder where Fionnuala is. It would have good if I´d met up with her. I tell myself I wouldn´t be down in the dumps if we had. It begins to rain lightly. The route is undulating, sometimes flat, sometimes steep so progress is quite slow. I stop at a campsite at 1.30 expecting to find an area for cooking but I don´t see an appropriate spot. I content myself with a protein bar and some fruit and nuts. I fill my water bottle from a fast moving stream and hit the trail again.

There is a bit of climbing to be done over the next stretch and I start to meet groups coming down the slope in the opposite direction. I make way for those coming down but it gets a bit frustrating as I have to make for 3-4 groups in a row. At least today most people do say hello. I stop again at the base of another slop to make way for a new group. I´m feeling tired and irritated now as I step to one side. Next thing I hear "Oh my God I don´t believe it" I look up quickly and there she is.... Fionnnuala, looking fresh and breezy as if she were out for a morning stroll. I´m delighted. Talk about a mood swing. All tiredness and frustrations are forgotten in a moment. We don´t get to talk for long as Fionnuala´s group is pushing on to their next campsite
some hours away. We do get a photo together though. It was great to see her and it keeps me in good spirits for the next while.

Some the rain starts to come down, soft but persistent. The jacket is put on. The trail continues but it feels more like home now than South America. The clouds are sitting low on the mountains, its wet. Theres no novelty in it for me. There´s at least two more hours on the trail. I´ve been waliking for seven. I´m getting bored with the whole hike. My hearts not really in this. Suddenly I decide to cut the hike short by a day. It means I´ll miss out on the famous Torres altogether but I don´t care. I saw them from the bus from El Calafate. I´ll stop at the next campsite I´m heading towards. I can get a mini shuttle at 7.30pm which links up with the bus back to Puerto Natales. I push on for Hosteria Grand Paine and get there at 6pm. 9 hours of hiking with three short breaks. I´m quite tired.

On the bus back to Puerto Natales I talk to two Italian girls I´ve been bumping into for the last two days. They, like me were a bit underwhelmed by the park. To be fair it is beautiful but for some reason I didn´t take to it I did feel as though I´ve seen as good and better elsewhere. A myth has built up around the Torres del Paine and, like a lot of myths, I think its been exaggerated.

Fri 28th Nov: Torres del Paine

Its raining heavily in Puerto Natales when I get up. Not a good sign for the start of the hike but they do say that the weather down here can bear no relation to whats going on in the park on any given day.

By the time we get to the park entrance three hours later the rain has lifted. It takes a while to pay the entrance fee as there are 5-6 buses in front of us. The bus brings us to a ferry which will take me to a campsite where I´ll stay tonight. Its a half hour spim across the lake and we get our first real glimpse up close of some of the peaks here.

By the time I get the tent up and a quick bite to eat its 1.30pm. I start out on the first leg of the circuit. A hike up to glacier grey. Most people come up and stay at a campsite close to the glacier but because I´m only in for 3 days I´m going to hike up and back in one go. Its a 7hr round trip so I can´t hang about if I want to get back while its still light.

The trail is certainly picturesque. The trail follows a route under some sheer peaks which go up to 3,000m. The trail is at an altitude of 25o-300m so its hard to believe the summits above are nearly 2 miles above us. On the left hand side a lake, which is fed by glacier grey, runs parallel. Up at the head of the valley 11km away sits glacier grey. Between here and there the trail crosses ridges, streams and through plentiful woodland.

It takes over three hours to reach the glacier. Along the way there are plenty of other hikers on the trail going in both directions. But what is striking after a while is just how many blatantly ignore you as if you weren´t there, despete the fact that you´ve just stepped off the trail to allow them to pass. This kind of attitude winds me up. Its only the younger ones that do it. Its as if they´ve come to their "Into the Wild" thang for a week. City slicker who are "going back to nature" this week. Next week when they´re up in El Bolson they´ll be all "peace and love" hippies. And by the time they reach Buenos Aires they´ll be disco divas. But this week they´re alone battling raw nature. I just wanted to say to some of them "Listem, love, get over yourself. Your not really in the wild. There´s hundreds of us in here. So get used to it. Its like a little Disney nature theme park in here. If you really want to be in the wild you should have f****d off to Alaska and not into one of the most heavily marketed national parks in the world."

The glacier itself was nice and the views around it were spectacular. The return journey was fast paced in order to get back to the campsite around 8pm in order to have enough light to get washed and fed before nightfall. There was a kitchen facility on site so half the campsite was in either prparing food or eating. I put something together fast. I had my shower and when darkness fell I, like most people around me went to sleep.

Wed 26th Nov: to Puerto Natales

Caught the 8.00am bus to Puerto Natales. I´m border hopping again back into Chile, a 5hr journey this time. Puerto Natales is the jump-off point for anyone going to hike in the famous Torres del Paine national park. Its also the southern port for the ferry ride down through the Chilean fjiords from Puerto Montt, a 3-5 day cruise. The Torres del Paine are considered one of the foremost national parks on the continent. I haven´t really thought about going into the park. I thought I´d come over anyway and have a wee look around Puerto Natales and perhaps meet up with Fionnuala again. She´s arriving in Puerto Natales around about now as well.

Leaving El Calafate the bus heads back up into the high plains we´d crossed a couple of days earlier. It turns onto a gravel road and rambles along towards the Chilean border. As we cross into Chile we can actually see the distinctive peaks of the torres over in the national park but the road veers south for another 120km to Pto Natales.

It feels very like Norway here. Puerto Natales sits in a sheltered bay with mountains ringing the north and wetern skyline. Its very overcast today and is very reminiscent of Tromso where they run the midnight marathon. I´m staying in ahostel called erratic rock which was recommended to me by a lad up in San Martin. I can stay here for 1 night but then have to make my own arrangements.

The lads in the hostel give an introductory talk about the park at 3pm each afternoon. I decide to tag along and listen as they give advice about hiking in the park, what routes to take, what equipment to hire etc. It can take 8 days to hike all the park, the most popular routes take 4-5 days. I get swept along in the talk and by the end I head off with another Irish lad, Mark, to buy food for the hike. From having no intention of visiting the park I´m now preparing for a 3-day trek. I´m not giving it any more than that though. Mark is going in for the 5 days. Mark has been travelling now about 4yrs, working for a while in Asia and Australia and the U.S. to fund his travels. Hes bused it down through Central America from Houston. He semms sound and we appear to have fallen into cahoots without ever really saying anything. It was a case of "Are you heading for food" "Yep". "Right, Lets go so." We donçt have to bring any bottled water into the park as the streams are as pure as it gets. I buy the lightest foodstuffs I can find. Noodles, crackers, pasta etc. We hire the equipment at Erratic rock.

Back in the hostel we stick on a stew for dinner. Mark has a yearning for stew and Içm happy enough to chip in. I start having second thoughts about going in tomorrow. Içve been emailing Fionnuala but havençt recieved any replies yet. Içm thinking of hanging on for a day to see if we can meet tomorrow. Also, Içm very tired and I donçt want to go in feeling the way I do now. I tell Mark Içm going to hang on for a day before going in. In a way its a pity. He would have been good company in there. We have our beef stew and down a bottle of wine with it, my first since arriving in South America. I had to bed aroun 11pm as the rest of the lads finalise their preparations for starting their hike.

More shots of the Perito Moreno

Tuesday 25th Nov: Perito Moreno Glacier

We´re off to see the Perito Moreno glacier today. Its just over an hour away by bus. Deep in the mountains it feeds lago Argentino with its meltwaters. Its one of the largest and most stable glaciers left in the world. Its one of many in this national park but its the most accessible one, and the most visited.

On the bus we followed Lago Argentino for about 50km, running parallel to its brilliant aquamarine waters. We then turned off the main road and meandered into the mountains following the shore of another lake which would take us directly to the Perito Moreno. The first hints that we were getting close to our destination was the sight of icebergs floating in the lake. We turned around a bend and at the base of a panorama of mountains lay the Perito Moreno, a huge craggy field of snow and ice the size of Buenos Aires. Its front end butts up against a narrow shoulder of land which seperates the two lakes it feeds. Huge chunks of ice periodically collapse off the front of the glacier and fall with a thunderous roar into the lake water.

We had a number of hours at the glacier before the bus returned to El Calafate. We took a bus into lago Argentina which brought us quite close to front of the glacier. It was impressive with cold winds sweeping down over us from the top of the glacier. But it wasn´t until another boat came by us and went almost dangerously close to the glacier that you could truly appreciate the sheer size of it. Its enormous. And constantly groaning and shrieking as the ice shifts downwards. The time went quickly as everyone waited for the next big crash of ice into the water. >The biggest one I saw came around 3.30, about 30 mins before we left. A big crack sounded and a roar of ice cascaded from the face of the glacier directly infron of me leaving a fresh scar of skyblue ice.

Back in Calafate as I went to the supermarket I realised my face was burned. I hadn´t put any suncream on and although I wore a hat it obviously wasn´t enough. From the way my face felt I knew I was very red and with big white Panda eyes from wearing shades I made quite a sight. Sure enough I drew quite a few amused glances from some o fthe locals. Served me right.

Making dinner I caught the end of Man U v Villareal. Tomorrow I go to Puerto Natales in Chile so I got my ticket sorted in the bus station. With nothing much to do and a burning face lathered in suncream I went to bed and read. I´m still alone in the room so I looked forward to a long sleep. About 10.30pm a knock came on the door and one of the girls from the hostel brought a lad into the room. (not impressed). Sure enough he was French and sure enough he didn´t stop mooching about until after 1am. Mais oui!!, he had to wash all his clothes...... in the room and hang them up...... all over the f*****g place!!! Oh but petit pois, aujourdhui, monsieur!! By Jaysus when I get home I´ll be teaching Danny K a few french phrases for his next holiday in Provence and it won´t be Bon Jour and Au Revoir!!

Finally I got to sleep. The skies lit up over El Calafate tonight. It wasn´t the Aurora Borealis. Oh no, It was my sunburned face!!

Mon 24th Nov: To El Calafate

My bus to El Calafate wasn´t until 12.00 so I had a few hours to kill. I found an internet cafe and posted a quick happy birthday to "Él Senor" himself, Danny K, the little prince of Fingal. It took so long to upload I thought I was going to miss my bus. Thankfully that didn´t happen and by midday I was on the bus rolling northwest for the 350km to El Calafate.

I half watched a terrible Pierce Brosnan film, dozed and looked out the window. Soon the snowcapped peaks of the Andes appeared on the horizon, far away on the edge of the plain. They looked small and distant. We´ve been travelling through what feels like high plains, the clouds and sky appear very close. Sometimes, as the land and clouds stretch away into the distance they create a tunnel effect as the gap between land and clouds appears to narrow gradually until they meet on the horizon.

As we near El Calafate the landscape finally changes, and changes abruptly. The high plains end at a cliff edge and drop down to low ground. 100km away the mountains rear up to sharp craggy summitsa lot closer and a lot larger now. A lake comes into view, its waters a bright aquamarine. As we come close to this lake, lago Argentino, El Calafate suddenly appears from under a fold in the land. It doesn´t look to be much, a scattering of houses stretched out across a sloping ridge. We don´t see the centre of town from the road. Its hidden down in a hollow between the base of the ridge and the lake shore.

At the bus terminal I see a lady holding a sign for the hostel I intend staying at. I go over to her check the price. Its ok so I wait as she rounds up a scatter of backpackers, brings us over to a minibus and drives us to the hostel. This was handy. I pay for a dorm bed in a 3-bed room but tonight I´m the only one in the room. Happy out!!

I don´t do much this evening. I´m tired after three days on buses. I have a quick look around. El Calafate is very touristy. It is thriving off the big attraction of the Perito Moreno glacier. Its the only reason I´m in this town and, presumably, the only reason most others arrive here. Its not cheap. Almost everything in town is more expensive than elsewhere. Its the typical tourist trap. There´s nowhere else around to stay so they can charge what they like here. There´s not a whole lot of interest in the town. Its in an odd location 90km from the glacier.

Sun 23rd Nov: The Atlantic coast to Rio Gallegos

I got a few hours sleep. I was awake by 5am and dozed on for a bit, catching a brief glimpse of the sunrise. We were due in to Commodoro Rivadavia at 6am. Outside the landscape had changed. We´d left the lake district with its picturesque mountains and valleys far behind. Dawn revealed a flat sparse, dusty landscape. A gorse covered plain.

I snoozed for a little longer expecting we´d arrive in Commodoro very soon. The bus arrived nearly an hour late, around 7am. I didn´t realise this at the time until a little later after we´d left the bus. The bus station here was rough looking. It was busy, a lot of ´characters´hanging about. Indeed the town its self didn´t look much. There was nothing appealing about staying here any longer than it took to get the next bus out of the place. I wasn´t looking forward to hanging around here for the next two hours. Its not that the place was dangerous. It just wasn´t appealing at all. I looked at my clock and saw that it was 7.20. Great!! only another 40 mins to hang around this kip. I now realise we were late arriving and its an unexpected bonus. The terminal was clammy, smelled of engine fumes and had too many greasy looking honchos. I just wanted to be on the next bus.

Soon enough we boarded and the bus rolled south at 8am. For over an hour, perhap two, we followed the coast. The sea was calm and flat. Long stretches of deserted beach passed by. Above the sky was blue, mottled with a scattering of light clouds. On the right hand side of the bus the parched, dusty plain stretched away inland. We left the coastline at some point and quickly the flat plain stretched out all around. The journey down to Rio Gallegos was something over 800km. We were due there at 18.30 this evening. On the tv screens Blood diamond was being shown. Its the first time I´ve watched a dvd at 8am in the morning. Great film!!

Throughout the rest of the day the landscape changed very little. Mostly it was flat, sometimes interrupted by low hills or ridges. Sometimes it dipped into a low plain for a while before rising again to a high plain. Towns were few and far between. The big distractions came with the sight of llamas and then ostriches/emus and then the biggest surprise of all.... pink flamingos!! I wasn´t expecting to see these. We stopped twice to break up the journey. We got to stretch our legs for a few minutes, then it was back on the bus to watch the land and sky pass by.

We finally reached Rio Gallegos, a port town and none too appealing either, at around 7pm. We had been delayed a few miles outside town for 40 mins while police officers stopped all traffic. An officer took details of everyone on board. From the bus terminal I limped for 10 mins to the hostel I wished to stay at and checked in. My hip was very stiff this evening after 36hrs on buses.

We´re far south in Patagonia now. I expected it to be cold but its very pleasant and the roaring winds I´ver heard about are merely blustery on this particular evening. Its very brigh and mild as the sun begins to lower in the sky. I´m in a room with an American lad, a german girl and an Italian guy, all heading for Ushuaia. I´m the only one going to El Calafate. Making my dinner I eat with a very jovial Israeli couple in their early 20´s. They´re quite different to other Israelis I´ve seen so far who can be quite distant as they generally travel in packs. This couple, however a ver friendly, slightly on the rotund side and with no airs or graces about them. It was enjoyable talking to them as they teased one another. At around 11pm the elctricty went off so there was nothing else to do but go to bed.

Sat 22nd Nov: South to Patagonia

Got up at 7am for a 7.45 bus to Bariloche. This is the first leg of the journey to El Calafate, a 36hr trek to Rio Gallegos in southern Argentina. The journey to Bariloche was a 4hr bus ride through some pretty spectacular landscapes of the lake district. Most of the road through here consisted of a gravel surface. It wound its way over ridges, through valleys and sometimes through thick woodland. By the time we got to Bariloche it was cool, breezy and overcast. The heavy jacket was definitely needed today.

I had 5hrs to kill in Bariloche before my bus to Commodoro Rivadavia, and then Rio Gallegos, departed at 17.15. I got some money, bought the bus ticket and tried to find a place showing the Ireland v Argentina rugby match. I went to an Irish pub in town but it doesn´t open until 6pm. Everywhere else in town was showing the Davis cup final between Argentina and Spain which was on up in Buenos Aires. Frustrated in my efforts to see the rugby I retired to a cheap local restaurant and watched the tennis while I ate.

I spent a couple of hours on the blog in an internet cafe and saw there that Ireland had beaten Argentina and, indeed, cov had won as well. So all in all a fairly successful day on the sporting front. I got back to the bus station under heavy skies. The wind was whipping up small white rollers on lake Nahuel Huapi. It felt chilly. As the bus pulled away from Bariloche the rain began to splatter on the windows.

This second leg of the journey was an overnight trek to Commodoro Rivadavia on the Atlantic coast. We were due to arrive at 6am in the morning with a 2hr stopover there before another 10hr journey to Rio Gallegos. Through the failing light of the evening the bus passed through valleys framed by high mountains whos upper slopes were obscured by heavy cloud. Rain fell intermittently.

We passed through a small town and watched as the locals went about their daily activities. While the town and its buildings looked different to home and the ancient cars that chugged around certainly looked different. It struck me that activities I was watching were no different to what you´d see everyday at home. People were going about their daily in the very same way we do. People were coming and going from the supermarket. A couple of neighbours stopped in the street to chat. An old lady in an apron sweeps away dirt off the footpath in front of her home. A man finishes plastering a garden wall as acouple of youngsters pass by walking a dog. In a tattered old car stopped at traffic lights a parent a the steering wheel turns to attend to a child on the backseat.

Mostly when you go travelling you look for the differences between places and think of far off places as being so alien from life at home. Then, on the odd occasion, out of the blue, the similarities between life in remote places strikes you and you realize the differences between here and there very often only exist in the smaller more visible details of a different life. The overall picture of life between places is very much the same. Its funny how striking that realization is when it does occur to you.

By 9pm it was dark. The shawshank Redemption was on the tv screens in spanish. We were served spaghettis Bolognaise for dinner and soon after that I tried to get some sleep.