The final blog

What to say? I'm writing this from North Wales - pretty jet-lagged, living funny hours, got up at 4am, usually I'd still be out at that time.

I still remember getting the train to Heathrow about nine months ago, gradually becoming more and more terrified. The tension was exhausting and I fell asleep almost as soon as I sat on the plane. At that point, and for the following few days I wondered if I'd made the right decision, I missed everyone and Delhi is crazy and (to steal back a favourite English word among Indians) bamboozling. But the trip just got better and better and has been the greatest experience of my life.

I have been to 13 different countries, across three continents, all of which were new to me. The trip has starred the Taj Mahal, Angkor Watt, the Great Wall of China, Milford Sound, Cape Horn, and the Inca Trail. I have been to bustling modern cities such as Hong Kong and Tokyo and the beautiful little corners of Rishikesh, Halong Bay and Fraser Island.

But the real joy has been in meeting so many different people - fellow travellers and the locals of each country. I've said before I've rarely been happier than sitting on a bus or train, heading into the unknown. People ask what my favourite places have been, and I've met many travellers who believe I go too fast and cannot get a feel for any of the places spending so little time in them. But for me the mix of cultures and lifestyles, seeing what unites us and how we can be so different, strolling among the temples and geishas in Kyoto, dancing in a samba club in Sao Paulo, playing rugby on a beach in Sydney - just feels like you're not only seeing the world, but reaching out and touching it.

To everyone who has perservered with this tripe, thanks very much, the blog has been a very enjoyable part of the trip.

Favelas

I just want to blog briefly about the favelas. These last few blogs have suffered from me not being able to load pictures - I´ll add them asap when I return home.
The favelas are the slums of Rio. The ones I visited today has 200,000 people living in them. They are crumbling old buildings with bare bricks and open windows. Several people live in a single room and they´re pretty unsanitory. However, they are far from depressing places. The people, though poor, appear healthy and happy. They are all controlled by Brazillian drug barons and amazingly this leads to them being crime free.
Walking between the beach, fashion shops and nightclubs of Ipanema, particularly at night, there´s always a risk you will get mugged, and it will probably be by someone from a favela. But in the favelas themselves they will not touch you. This is because the drug barons do not allow crime as they do not want to attract the police. They also refuse to deal crack cocaine in the favelas as it is so addictive it often leads to people committing crimes to fund the habit. However, most of Brazil´s coke and cannabis come out of these neighbourhoods.
We went to a graffiti artists shop and a daycare centre, and listened to children playing samba music on makeshift drums in the street. In a way it is poverty tourism, but the money goes back into the favelas, into the daycare centre, and tourism has been instrumental for some years now in gradually improving quality of life in the neighbourhood.
Today is my final day. Tonight we are going to live it up in Lapa, tomorrow I start a mammoth journey back. It´s been an amazing experience and I will blog some more and try and recap a little, hopefully without boring you all too much more.
Incidentally, before deciding on the title Travel and Travails I had planned to call this blog Around the World in 80 Blogs. Without any pre-planning I have now hit blog number 77, so who knows, maybe we will finish on 80 after all.

Sugar Loaf and Jesus Christ superstar

Just a quick blog to let you know (as the title suggests) I´ve been to Sugar Loaf and Christ the Redeemer in Rio. As I can´t load photos, its a pretty pointless blog, but that has never stopped me before.
I went to Sugar Loaf with a couple of Dutch girls. It provides great views of the city - Rio is a beautiful city, with so many beaches and a massive lake it looks as if it was built on water - while the Christ statue is very impressive, but what can I really tell you about it, you´ve seen the photos.
I´ve been pretty lazy about going out, but last night we headed to Botafogo only to be turned away from a nightclub because not all of us had ID. Hopefully we´ll have more luck tonight as we´re off to Lapa for some samba action.
I´m off to a Favella now, which have been highly recommended. They seem to be huge Rio communities where some of the poorest people live, and are filled with art and music, etc.
I will blog about it on my return.

At the Copa, Copacabana...

... don´t pretend you don´t know it.
I can see why Rio tops a lot of people´s lists and why so many - once they have arrived - do not leave. There are acres of beach here, the sand is soft and stone free and there are great waves for the surfers. The locals are friendly party people and the whole place buzzes.
I spent my first day touring the beaches, Rio has two main ones - Copacabana and the even cooler Ipanema. To be honest, I think I´ll return today. I only have a few other must sees while I´m here - Christ the Redeemer, Sugar Loaf - which provides great views of the city - and the Maracana. I think the first two could be done in one day.
Yesterday I went to Saint Theresa, an historic neighbourhood now given over to the artists. It was different to the many colonial parts of South America, which was a relief as I´ve really seen enough. Many of the buildings resembled a Disney fairytale, but it has to be said that ugly additions have been allowed to spring up at random and all the views are spoiled by huge numbers of electricity cables that head off in every direction.
The bad news for you is that the hostel computer doesn´t seem to be compatible with my card reader so I won´t be able to load pictures until I return to the UK, the bad news for me is that is Monday.

Ille Grande, Swedes and the law of sod

It was a blinding day today, gorgeous sunshine ... as we sailed away from the tropical island where it had rained for most of my two day stay. Ille Grande was still very cool, a little island about two hours from Rio, which is in itself surrounded by smaller uninhabited islands. Its a haven of fishermen with jet black sand underneath the golden brown, which I guess might mean it used to be volcanic. However, it was rain and not ash that kept hammering down.
There have been an extraordinarily high number of Swedes travelling with me of late. Starting with four in Paraty and adding a couple more in Ille Grande. Scandinavians in general are always good fun and up for a laugh. It´s been a good few days as I wind down to the end of the trip.
However, I left the island with ba British couple and now that I´m in Rio I seem to be worryingly surrounded by English hooray Henrys and Henriettas.
I am writing this from the Copacabana, where I arrived early this evening. I have six whole days in Rio, which is a lifetime compared to how long I usually stay in places, but I am sure I will not get bored. As we arrived in the city the Christ the Redeemer statue appeared on the horizon - it is so high up compared to most of the city - and Flamengo and Botafogo were kicking off in what I think was a Brazilian cup final (but must admit am not entirely sure). Both teams are from Rio and shirts and flags have been out in force. I caught the second half on TV, which saw Botafogo score twice to equalise at two-all but then lose on penalties. The area has since gone nuts! I`ll add photos of Ille Grande soon.

Paraty

It´s so beautiful here - lovely beach, rows of white wash houses, with brightly coloured doors and window frames, and streets that are less cobbled than bouldered. It´s quiet, which is nice after the madness of Sao Paulo, and exactly what I need with little over a week to go. There´s been a good crowd in the hostel although most have left now. I stayed an extra day because its so nice and, quite frankly, I´m a lazy git.
On my first night here we had a boat party and was drinking calparinas until the early hours. The Brazilian national drink is a mix of their own spirit, limes and a ridiculous amount of sugar. It´s nice as the lime cancels out the sugar´s sweetness, but I´m not sure how this isn´t a nation of diabetics.

The good, the bad and the bohemian

I have been wandering around downtown Sao Paulo - or Sampa as its known - today and dont really know how to start to describe it. The city is elegant in parts, but mostly shabby, the people are generally friendly, but can appear quite menacing - whether or not thats just the reputation putting ideas in my head its hard to say, but I would not return after dark.
This is the first ethnically diverse place I have been in South America. As well as the Latinos, there are a lot of Asians, Caucasians and Blacks, which is refreshing. The city has a history of being a home to immigrants and is known as the gateway to Brazil. Its very poor, with a lot of tramps and street sleepers and people searching through the bins for whatever they can find. However there is practically no begging. Its strange how poverty manifests itself differently in different places.
In contrast to the city centre, the area I am staying in is safe, fun and friendly. There are more bars than you can shake a stick at and they were all so full last night people were queuing to get in and there was music blaring out of every corner. Its more of a place to live than visit, but I can imagine it being a lot of fun.
I have two more nights here than I head to Paraty and Ille Grande - I think thats what they are called - before completing my trip in Rio.

Brazil and big ol´ Sao Paulo...

... because that´s how it feels, big. It´s huge and I wonder if I´ve ever been somewhere this big, maybe Tokyo. First impressions are it seems to be a tough city, and you need your wits about you, but a lot of people have been genuinely nice already. I´m spending three nights here in the Vila Madalane region, which is supposed to be quite bohemian and certainly has a lot of bars and restaurants, but it is still surrounded by high-rises in every direction.
Whenever I arrive somewhere I try to get from the airport to the hostel the cheapest way possible, avoiding shuttle buses and taxis which are expensive. In this case it meant taking one urban bus, three underground trains, and then walking a mile - it is certainly one way to see the city. I´m about to head out for some food, then maybe I´ll siesta - a nice South American habit - then maybe return out to see what´s really on offer.

Igazu

Just returned from the magnificent Iguazu Falls, the Brazilian side today after the Argentinian side yesterday. I almost never got here after struggling to make myself understood at the bus stop in Corrientes. If you ever come out to Argentina, you have to pronounce Iguazu as IguaZU, not IgUAzu a la Reeves and Mortimer in Shooting Stars.
The Argentinian side puts you right in among the waterfalls. There seem to be hundreds and it is a full day walking around seeing them from different viewpoints. I got a boat which took us right underneath Diable Canyon, getting absolutely soaked. Today, and Brazil, is a little more removed but provides the best pics. I met a Swiss brother and sister, the girl of whom had been before and was disappointed there wasn´t more water (she´d been before), apparently it´s been a bit dry here of late, but as you can see from the pics there was more than a drop or two to go round.
Iguazu is very touristy and more full of families, tour groups and the elderly, than backpackers, which inevitably makes it somewhat duller. There are also mosquitoes here with dengue, which everyone seems very concerned about. Get bit once you suffer a kind of bad flu, which knocks you out for two weeks. Get bit twice you die. I have some mosquito repellent so hopefully will be OK.
The animals in the pictures are corlis. They´re about the size of cats and have faces like the Wombles from Wimbledon. You´re not supposed to feed them but inevitably as they are cute people do. I didn´t, I shooed it away with a chair, hands one paws nil

The Corrientes blunder

I´m in Corrientes, which is very nice but without hostel accommodation. I´m staying in a cheap hotel in a room which looks like it was painted to resemble a prison cell. There is a window with no shutter looking onto the glass door of the bathroom so I think people can see me shower, which pretty much completes the illusion. It´s as if they´re saying, Ýou´ve opted to stay in the cheapest room in Corrientes and we are not going to let you forget it.´
The place itself is very nice. Again with the faded colonial beauty which seems to characterise Argentina, but I´ve headed east and am no longer surrounded by desert - still hot though. Apparently this is one of Argentina´s oldest cities and a focal point for early battles between the native Indians and invading Spanish. Which reminds me, I never mentioned by the change in ethnicity is quite noticible from where people are quite light-skinned and European looking in Buenos Aires to north-west Argentina where they look a lot like the Peruvians of Cusco, like Native Americans. I know it doesn´t matter a jot, but it´s worth noting, and maybe indicates something about how little people migrate within the country, even though there is the reported BA-pull factor.
On the bus over I sat next to a female soldier (think that´s what she said). Soldiers can be seen patrolling the streets of most Argentinian towns and cities, though not in a threatening way. Anyway she was very nice and friendly and shared her food and blanket. I kept things platonic though, couldn´t help thinking one false move and I might have seen the inside of a real Argentinian cell.

North-West Argentina

Life is ticking along quite nicely, I´ve been trawling up the north-west of Argentina, from Tucuman where I blogged last, to the small town of Cafayate and the last couple of days have been spent in Salta.
In Cafayate, I rented a bike and rode around the countryside, trying and failing to find a waterfall. The area is beautiful, with the outskirts of the Andean range full of multicoloured rocks, cactus and waterfalls. It´s hot though and the bike was a devil to ride at times. Cafayate is surrounded by wineries and the wine is delicious.
Salta is a beautiful city, a capital for the region with great buildings and the usual splattering of parks and plazas. Argentinian cities are among the greenest I have visited. They also have a very interesting museum here dedicated to three child mummies found buried in a dorment volcano by the Incas, whose empire just about stretched this far east. The children were sacrificed and one of the mummies is on display. I have been staying in something of a party hostel and the couple of days here have been more dedicated to having fun than anything too serious.
Incidentally, one thing I have noticed, is all the children in this part of Argentina wear long white coats to school - they look like little doctors wandering around.
Anyway, I´m off to Corrientes in a few hours, for one night, then it´s up to Iguazu.

I am the traveller, and I ride and I ride

I wanted to blog about travelling in general, this strange transient state which occasionally leads me to wake up in the morning and wonder where the hell I am. I just travelled more than 12 hours to get to Tucaman - a nice, if not outstanding, Argentinian city. I´ll be here for less than 24 hours before heading to Cafayate, where apparently there are canyons and where I have two days pencilled in. I´m not a hardcore traveller, I don´t hitchhike and since Japan have always booked hostels ahead, for the shameful reason that it is easier. But I think I have the spirit of a traveller, I like looking around a rickety bus and realising I am the only English-speaker, and then trying and failing to communicate with locals. I simply like arriving somewhere new, and often I prefer it if its somewhere unremarkable as that generally means it is less touristy and more representative of the real country, whichever one it is I am in at that time. My feet are always dirty and my sleep is so random I sometimes feel like an insomniac wondering around in a daze. Sometimes I feel like butter spread over too much toast (OK, I stole that line from a hobbit, but he stole my precious), other times it makes you feel really alive.

I guess that´s a pretty rambling and incoherent summary, but I hope it provides some kind of insight (many of you I know have travelled yourselves). The pics are of Tucaman.

Mendoza and the Andes

Wow, it´s insanely hot today. I´ve got another nightbus in a couple of hours and should arrive in Tucuman tomorrow morning. Nightbuses are good because they save on a night´s accommodation costs, but they´re not a lot of fun, with food that tastes like cardboard and (British/American) music of the mullet-power ballard variety. (Although, I cannot currently talk as I´ve not had mine cut since a misunderstanding in a Chinese hairdressers left me bald).

Anyway, when you first arrive in Mendoza it is distinctly unimpressive. It does not even seem to have the Latin pulse of Buenos Aires and other South American cities. But it more than makes up for it by being on the doorstep of the Andes, with trekking, rafting and skiing all available, and by having great wine, fine steaks and the world´s greatest ice cream - no exaggeration.

The Andes are fantastic, huge and barren. I flew over them between Argentina and Chile after the cruise through Patagonia and it was like looking down on a different planet. We went right up to Aconcagua, the tallest mountain in the Americas, but thankfully did not climb it - I´m still recovering from the Inca Trail.

Argentina is a funny place. Both here and Buenos Aires almost feel like continental Europe, but there´s a poverty that is almost hidden, like they´re trying to pretend it does not exist. One of Mendoza´s main characteristics (apart from five stunning plazas, one incredible park, and streets lined with endless sycamore trees) is the many pavement cafes - like I said it´s very hot here, strictly speaking it´s in a desert. When you sit there in the evening you are plagued by child beggars, which is very sad, and actually reminds me of the likes of India and Cambodia, the poorest places I have visited.

I have Andes pictures for you and will post them next chance I get, as this computer won´t appear to let me.

Last tango in Buenos Aires

This is a flying post, a blogette if you will, just to let you know I am fine and McLovin Buenos Aires, which is a grand old city, a bit European, but faded and slightly rustic. I am staying near the Plaza de Mayo, where the presidents residence is, a Pink House no less, I said it was a bit European. Last night I went to watch the tango with a Columbian girl I met in Peru, she has now gone to Uruguay, and in a few hours I head to Mendoza. The tango was good, thankfully not too long. BA gets a bad rap for being dangerous, but seems fine to me, probably famous last words.
As a footnote, I am in Mendoza now, after a long overnight bus journey. Tomorrow I have an Andes trip, it´s only one day long, and then I head further north.
Incidentally, I now plan to be back in the UK just hours before May 11, now why does that date ring a bell...

Saturday night Lima

I´m blogging before heading out to see what the Peruvian capital has to offer on a Saturday night. I´ve got a day and a half here before an early morning flight to Buenos Aires. I´m planning to blitz the northern half of Argentina in around three weeks - going from BA, as the Yanks call it, to Mendoza, hitting a few towns on the way to Salta, then looping round to Iguazu and the falls, before going back to BA.
I had intended to ignore my flight from BA to Sao Paulo and travel overland but, amazingly, the airlines would either charge me $120, or cancel my remaining flights. Surely these are my flights and it is up to me what I do with them - apparently not.
I don´t have a definite plan for Brazil yet, but seeing as I fly into Sao Paulo and out of Rio, it is likely to be concentrated in that south-east corner. (How many times have I said this but I would like to come back and do South America properly (or southern India, Laos, big chunks of China and Japan, Australia´s Great Barrier Reef and Ayres Rock). One of the things about travelling is that whenever you leave a place there are always places you wished you´d seen, and some you´d like to see again.
Northern America could turn into little more than a stopover, so I could be back in Blighty in less than two months, but don´t start planning the welcome home party just yet!

The Inca Trail and Machu Picchu

It´s actually a couple of days since I staggered, like a geriatric after one too many, onto a bus out of Machu Picchu. We treked for four days along the Inca Trail, arriving at Machu Picchu early on the fourth, and then scaled the 300-metre high Waynupicchu.
We were a group of 12. Four surly giant Polish boxers, who drank their body weight in rum or whisky each night, and then insisted on charging at the front the following day, although most tended to slow after a while. One bionic Kiwi girl, who left us all for death. A gay Irish couple, one of whom strained a groin and did well too finish. A great fun Alaskan couple - although the guy was almost taken out with fever - and another American couple, the female half of which hated every moment.
The first day was easy - a mere six hours - the second was supposed to be the killer. We were a quick group, generally halving the expected time for each leg, and as we reached the highest point of Dead Woman´s Pass, at 4200 metres above sea level, I honestly thought I could go quicker without too much trouble.
Unfortunately, this was short-lived. I have dodgy ankles and an old knee injury and am happier going uphill than down, so after a couple of hours going down I was none-too-happy. This was followed by more up, by which time I was knackered, and then more down, by which time my body was knackered. I got a cold, couldn´t stop sneezing, and needed the toilet (the kind of need even men can´t, or at least shouldn´t, do behind a bush) and felt a sudden unexpected bowel movement would spell disaster. Fortunately I held on!
The third day was easier as my old banger of a body found a way to trudge through a mere six hours. The fourth was a dawn two-hour charge to Machu Picchu because - get this - I wanted to be there early enough to be one of the lucky 400 to drag their carcas up Waynapicchu. It was well worth it.