We arrived at Copacabana next to Lake Titicaca with hopes of relaxing in the sunshine and visiting a few of the lake’s islands. Instead we got stuck there for three days while a bus strike in Peru prevented us from crossing the border and poor weather made the usually placid lake far from ideal to spend six hours on in a tiny boat. Fortunately we got a great hotel room and spent the time wisely surfing hundreds of cable TV channels.
With the bus strike eventually over we scrambled onto the first bus out to Peru along with the backlog of other travellers who were also stranded. The weather lifted along with the blockade and we eventually got onto Lake Titicaca from Peru’s end in Puno. We took a short boat ride out to visit the floating villages of Uros where people live on islands made entirely of reeds. Since the reeds need to be constantly replenished you have to watch your step in places or suffer a soggy foot.
From Puno we headed onto Cusco and spent a couple of days walking through the cobbled streets and plazas, enjoying some fantastic restuarants and arranged our next trips out to Machu Picchu and the Peruvian jungle.
With little to keep us in Uyuni we decided to take a longer route to La Paz visiting Potosi and Sucre on the way. Potosi is built around the Cerro Rico mountain and at 4060m above sea level it’s the highest city in the world and another UNESCO site. Despite acclimatising in the Salar we were still quickly exhausted climbing the stairs of our hostel and spent most of our time walking around at snail’s pace. Potosi was once of the most important city in Spain’s South American colonies due to vast amounts of silver discovered in the mountain. The silver is now long gone but mining is still performed for the many minerals found inside. The working conditions haven’t changed much since colonial times and the life-expectancy for miner’s is usually 35-40 due to silicosis of the lungs. Tours of the mine are available but we decided against taking one feeling it was a bit inappropriate, not to mention the fact that Helen is petrified of small spaces. Everyone here chews coco leaves for every imaginable ailment so we had a try but after enduring 45 minutes of it’s foul taste the old side effect seemed to be a numb throat.
On to Sucre we were greeted us with even more impressive colonial architecture. If there is one thing that the Bolivians do well it’s a Plaza and here was it’s jewel in the crown with immaculate gardens and fountains; it’s the real heart of the town. There was such a nice mix of women in traditional dress with bowler hats feeding birds, teenagers snogging and little kids hassling you to clean your shoes, that we happily sat and watched the world go by. We visited a traditional weaving museum and watched on as women created intricate patterns which made us appreciate why the work in the shop cost so much money.
After a few ropey buses our next to Le Paz exceeded all expectations. With Argentine style cama-suite booths we slept all the way to the capital. Le Paz is a hilly and hectic city with buildings clinging to every steep incline. We stayed right by the witches market that sold all types of souvenirs and a wide selection of dried baby llama foetus - yum! Between a lively reunion with our salt flat buddies and a cinema trip to see the latest Harry Potter film we mooched around the city taking in the local sights.
Like something out of the wild west, San Pedro De Atacama is full of adobe buildings and surrounded by dry deserts and volcanoes. As the starting point for our tour across the Salar De Uyuni into Bolivia we spent a few days acclimatising to the altitude and taking some much needed rest.
The 3 day 2 night trip was spectacular and we couldn’t have been luckier with our fellow travellers;, Canadians Paul and Nalin, Irish Paul and Austrian Lizzie who became the official translator of driver Reuben’s Spanish commentary. Climbing to almost 4900 meters at the highest point we visited some very smelly geysers and angry pools of boiling mud. Despite the strong sunshine it was bitterly cold. Braving the weather and lack of changing rooms we stripped off to bathe in a natural thermal pool; lovely on the way in, excruciating on the way out! At 4300m our first night’s accommodation was freezing and we piled on the layers to keep warm.
As the only couple there with altitude sickness pills we became the official drug pushers on the trip as people frequently sidled up to ask if they could have some pills to cure their ’soroche’. I was happy to share them as they disagreed with my system and I have never needed to pee so much in all my life. I can now fully sympathise with my pregnant sister’s situation.
We visited many lakes that were teeming with Flamingos and they were so graceful to watch as they noisily chattered amongst themselves. Our second night was spent in a hotel made from salt, slightly warmer and lower than the first and the interesting floor of salt crystals made you feel as though you were living in a large tray of cat litter. Alcohol wasn’t recommended on the first night due to the altitude so here we were able to enjoy a few beers before another chilly night’s sleep. In the morning only the impressive Salt flats separated us from Uyuni. Stretching as far as the eye could see in every direction. The bright white conditions remove all perspective from photographs so we had lots of fun posing for different shots. Lunch at an oasis full of Cacti was our last stop before heading to Uyuni. We got our one and only flat tire a few kms outside of the town, so watched on as Reuben got covered in dust as he changed the tyre, not an easy task in deep sand.
36 hours on a bus up to Santiago was not entirely appealing so we opted for a quick flight up from Punta Arenas instead. This was the most southerly point on our trip so far, though our experince of the town was restricted to the airport.
We didn’t have great expectations of Santiago but needed a base to visit the surrounding area. It’s certainly no Buenos Aires, however it does have its charms and was entirely redeemed due to it’s close proximity with some of the best ski resorts in the Andes. Naturally we spent a day on the slopes and had a great time ripping it up. Santiago is almost always shrouded in cloud and smog and we expected the mountains to be the same. Bluebird skies greeted us at the top however and we now both sport bright red faces, expect giant white patches where our sunnies were. This resulted in total strangers approaching us to ask with a grin and in broken English if we’d been skiing recently 
We spent a day in Valpariso, Chile’s alleged culture capital. Sunday was clearly not the day for culture however so we consoled ourselves with some fantastic swordfish straight from the morning’s catch. The town is a UNESCO World Heritage site due to the many funicular lifts that whisk you up to the streets and buildings clinging to the side of the hills. Certainly beats walking up!
San Pedro de Attacama was our next destination but rather than spend another 25 hours on a bus we split the journey up by over-nighting in Caldera. Along with Bahia Inglesa these are the places to go during the Chilean summer. It was a lot sleepier when we arrived but the perfect antidote to our first hectic two weeks back on the road.
We crossed the Argentine border into Patagonian Chile and headed straight to Puerto Natales, gateway to the Torres Del Paine national park. Though only 3 hours further south than El Calafate it was much colder here and the wind cut straight through our many layers of long johns. Puerto Natales was even quieter than El Calafate and we as we stood shivering and banging on the hostel door we wondered if we’d made a big mistake. Eventually the surprised owner let us in and though the place seemed colder inside than out, after cranking up the heaters we were soon snug as a bug.
Since we weren’t carrying arctic grade camping gear we opted for a day tour of the of Torres Del Paine. Again we were really lucky with the weather and got a whistle-stop tour of all the highlights without the 5 days of trekking that usually go along with them. The abundance of nature was great to see and our eagle-eyed driver kept us up-to-date with his latest sightings so we could snap away.
From Puerto Madyrn we headed straight for El Chalten in the heart of Argentinean Patagonia. Winter down here is most definitely off-season but thankfully we found an awesome alpine-lodge style hostel to stay at complete with under floor heating. We took a trip out to the Perito Moreno glacier and though the weather was pretty chilly when the sun came out it was glorious. The glacier is truly massive, dwarfing those we saw in New Zealand. The scale is difficult to appreciate in the photos because there is little to compare it to and though initially sceptical about the trip we were both blown away. On the return journey we got the driver to drop us off at the frozen lake to join in with the local’s fun and proving our round-the-world shoes also make pretty cool ice skates!
After thawing out from the glacier tour we spent a couple of days in El Chalten. At three hours away by bus it’s practically round the corner by Patagonian standards. This is prime trekking country in the summer but had turned into a winter wonderland when we arrived. Many of the walks were closed off because they are covered in snow and ice but we managed to get out on a few of them just in time for the clouds to part and show us the impressive ranges hiding in the distance.
With 17 hours of driving between Buenos Aires and our next stop Puerto Madryn, we were glad that Argentine buses lived up to the hype. With huge, totally flat reclining leather seats, food, wine and plenty of movies the journey felt more like a business class flight than your typical National Express trip. When dinner arrived we quickly ate everything in sight only to realise the main course was still to arrive and we were too full to eat most of it. The customary game of bingo started a few hours before arrival and our Spanish numeracy must be pretty good because Helen cleaned-up and won a bottle of wine.
Winter is the start of the Southern Right whale watching season in Puerto Madryn and after getting some tips from the super-friendly hostel owners we took a taxi out to a nearby beach to see if we would be able to spot any off in the distance. To our amazement there were whales everywhere, some only 10 metres or so from the shore! We followed them up and down the beach as they had a whale of a time, rolling and diving in the water. The wind was so cold we had to put the camera batteries inside our gloves to warm them up enough to take pictures but it was well worth braving the weather to see such a spectacle.
Leaving Buenos Aires temporarily behind us we boarded a giant catamaran and sped across the Rio Del Plata to Uruguay. With an enormous FedEx box in tow we arrived in a crisp Montevideo eager to get rid of our new piece of luggage. Due to a host of Argentine export problems we had to send our box of goodies from Uruguay instead. Our efforts were eventually rewarded as it was half the price and has safely arrived back in the UK, glass soda siphon intact.
We spent the rest of the day walking around Montevideo, the nation’s capital, feeling good to be back on the road for the final part of our trip. Montevideo is a bit like a smaller, quieter version of Buenos Aires and we got lots of chances to practice our limited Spanish with the locals. Two hours away by bus, the beautiful old town of Colonia del Sacramento gave us another chance to unwind from our last hectic week. With cobbled streets and quaint old cottages this place is packed with Argentinian tourists in the summer, in winter however we had the place to ourselves. Mate seems to be even more popular in Uruguay and to Helen’s delight we even got served Submarinos for breakfast in our hostel. Once our brief visit was over we retraced our steps back to Buenos Aires for the start of our Patagonian adventures.
Life was obviously going a little too well here and we were bought back down to earth on Tuesday when my wallet was stolen by a pick-pocket on the underground. It was a pretty low point in an otherwise fantastic time in Buenos Aires. Despite the annoyance of losing, money, cards and our traveller’s street cred we are both fine and determined not to be taken again.
On a more positive note however our last week in BA has been very full, cramming in all the final sights and restaurants we’d not managed before. The colourful buildings you can see below are in Caminito, an old dock where the workers used leftover paints from the shipyards to decorate their houses. Slightly less colourful was Recolata cemetery, the final resting place of Evita and a freaky place full of coffins and cats. There is a lot of one-upmanship going on between family mausoleums resulting in some incredible and grotesque tombs. The place is like a maze and we wouldn’t fancy being there after dark!
Back in San Telmo we fell in love with the antique soda Siphons sold at the flea markets and although possibly the most impractical thing to send home we just had to have one. Likewise with a painting we commissioned from the talented young artist Gustavo Ferrari. It says ‘My Beloved Buenos Aires’.
We leave our lovely apartment in the morning and head off to Uruguay for a brief visit before returning to Argentina to kick start our round-the-world adventure with a journey south to the very cold Patagonia. We’re going to miss a lot about this place; the amazing restaurants, Spanish lessons with Gustavo and his cat Benita, late night rubbish sifters, subte salesman, our favourite cafe with it’s perfect empanadas, submarinos, dinner at midnight and bottle after bottle of malbec. We won’t miss the national drink ‘Mate’ so much! The bar has been set high for the rest of South America and we can’t wait to start exploring.
Life here is pretty damn sweet. After work is over we attend our Spanish classes at the home of our very patient teacher Gustavo and his lovely Siamese cat Benita. Progress is definitely being made although somewhat more slowly in my case; I put it down to my age. I shall miss the classes when we move on but definitely not the homework which has seen me regress into a stroppy teenager, never wanting to do it and always finishing it minutes before the next lesson.
We have also been introduced to the world of Argentinian Tango, an incredibly sexy and passionate dance, only not when we do it. Our sweating clumsy bodies were a world apart from those of our teachers, who continually corrected our poor posture and awkward movements. It’s good fun nevertheless and we love the music although we may just stick to watching the professionals.
In the evenings we usually head to one of BA’s many excellent restaurants. We are really spoilt for choice where we live with an abundance to munch our way through. I have even had to make a shortlist of the ones we will manage to squeeze in before we leave next Monday. The Parilla’s (grill houses) serve up any kind of meat in enormous portions and are Mark’s favourite. I have become rather partial to visiting the numerous coffeehouses on every street corner and sampling their pastries and washing them down with a submarino, hot, frothy milk with a bar of chocolate dropped into it.
Many of you regular blog followers will have noticed in the photos that my white Malon streak (another one of Mum’s inherited features, thanks very much!) has been growing steadily. For your diplomacy in not mentioning this I thank you. A particularly dear friend (naming no names, you know who you are Clare) however felt she could not contain herself any longer and told me in no uncertain terms to get it sorted! The search for a competent English speaking, decent hairdresser in BA turned out to be like the search for the holy grail. Finally however I succeeded and we turned up, me looking like Morticia Adams and Mark whose Hair had got so big it looked like he was wearing a crash helmet. To his credit the lovely Ryan did not run a mile but rolled up his sleeves and got stuck in. We are now both sporting new cuts with thankfully much less grey.
