Jez & TZ's Worldwide Adventure

Vienna: Austria

2008-07-16T02:25:00.000+01:00

This is (potentially) the fourth last blog in the JeTZ Worldwide Adventure series. It doesn't promise to be anything flashy but it has worth in its own right. Vienna was to mark the end of our European leg and stand as a semi-convenient, somewhat sentimental meeting point for the JeTZ to meet up with Jeremy's sister Jessica. You might remember Jess from such blogs as The Cow Incident where she made a cameo performance as the vet who gave advice about appropriate actions to take if being attacked by a cow. She also starred in the Spaghetti Western Spain: El Bueno, El Mal y El Feo as a cowgirl which the producers thought could be rather useful given her specialist knowledge of bovine self-defence. But Vienna was a whole different kettle of herring. Jess had planned to meet her friend Jake here and together they would have no problem fitting into one of the world's most vibrant and culturally sophisticated cities.

The JeTZ on the other hand...well we had to try a little harder.

Eventually we gave up the pretences and settled in to our new home - the Wombat Lodge. It's not that we were desperately home sick that we insisted on staying here - more like we were desperately missing a black (some would argue dark brown) sandwich spread which is 2 parts yeast extract, 1 part salt, 100% Australian (and Kosher by the way) and about as popular as thrush. That said, we so enjoy being catered for and happily support anyone who will do so. Although we're not sure if the great Viennese innovators were being creative by putting Vegemite in a vending machine or if they were trying to extricate themselves from actually selling the product over the counter?

So having come from all corners of the globe to meet up, we wasted no time getting over jet lag. We immediately set out into the old town for dinner at an Israeli kebab shop which ended rather badly when a trace of chickpea found its way into Jeremy's shawama. Sadly, chickpea is to Jeremy as chocolate is to dog - yummy but a very bad idea. Icecream on the other hand never fails to deliver and - as we all know - is the second greatest panacea after tiger balm known to man!

The following day we were all in fine fettle and ready for an academic experience (read: museum time.)

The museum we visited paid homage to the beautiful and highly celebrated Empress, Elizabeth of Bavaria. Sisy, as she was affectionately known, was somewhat of a cult figure well known for her obsession with being slim (she had a 20 inch waste line!), her bouts of depression, her love of poetry, her abhorrence of court etiquette and her tragic ending which saw her being assassinated by an anarchist who fatally stabbed her in the heart. She might have been considered an emo by today's standards except that hardcore punk, tight jeans and bright pink had not yet been invented.

Sisy was ahead of her time in other ways too having a home (or palace) gym erected in her bedroom. These days you can buy such things off the shopping channel for 10 easy payments of $29.95 and yet, they haven't really evolved that much since the 19th century...

After the museum, we needed a bit of outside-time and headed for the Ratheusplatz where we waited 3 hours to experience something truly Viennese - an outdoor concert. It was not that dissimilar to watching TV at home except that this big screen put our 46inch wide screen Sony Bravia to shame, the seats were less comfortable than our couch and instead of screening Seinfeld, we were watching a famous violist. But that my friends, is what differentiates culture vultures from couch potatoes.

Inspired by our new icon Sisy, we decided to get some exercise and do a bicycle tour around the city. This turned out to be a very bad idea much in the same way that dancing the hora in stilettos is a bad idea. Conditions need to be suitable. Cycling tours in the pouring rain are not fun particularly the bits where you are standing around a main square listening to the significance of the monuments surrounding you when you really should in a cosy little cafe having a Vienna coffee and Princess cake.

The weather improved the following day where the JeTZ broke away from Jess and Jake to try and learn to be a little more sophisticated. So naturally that began with a visit to the Opera house and ended with a walk around some rather elaborate palace gardens.

That turned out to be a dismal failure...perhaps sophistication is something you are born with and cannot be learnt?

To that end, we hung up our fancy scarves and dress pants, had a quick 'what the??' moment in front of this shop below, said our farewells to Jake and headed east where bakalava, shishas and whirling dirvishes anxiously awaited our arrival.

Berchtesgaden: The Eagle's Nest

2008-07-13T11:24:00.001+01:00

Legend has it that the angels who were given the responsibility of distributing the Earth's wonders were ordered to do so hastily. In their panic, they dropped them all in one place - Berchtesgaden.
That may be one of the reasons that Hitler chose to have his second headquarters here.

There is a more practical reason though - Hitler was an Austrian by birth. By residing in a Bavarian town on the boarder of Austria, no one would think it odd he lacked an authentic German accent.

Which brings us to one of the reasons the JeTZ found themselves drawn to this now morose and mist-laden municipality which lies sleepily in the Bavarian Alps.

We wanted to see some authentic Bavarian culture. Yes folks, we were itching to see men in Lederhosen and women in Dirndl.

We wanted to see weisswurt (white sausage) and entrails on menus. TZ wanted to order Apfel Strudel although her German wasn't good enough...

Jez in particular wanted a decent sampling of the region's finest Beer. Actually this photo is not about capturing Jez in his element.
If you look behind him, there's a Dirndl-clad woman. We were secretly photographing her. Moments after that, our dreams would be shattered.

People don't dress this way here! These people were here to celebrate Tartan Day!

Having now been educated about the frailties of stereotyping other cultures, we pressed on to the real reason we were here..

Hitler was in some ways a lucky man. He had some rather generous friends in the SS. So liberal was their gift to the Führer on his 50th birthday, that the angels who threw the Earth's wonders here would have wept. It was a holiday home perched some 1,834 meters high on the Kehlsein mountain. Nicknamed the "Eagle's Nest", it took 3000 people to build. The workers would hike 2.5 hours up the mountain side in the bitter cold carrying all the materials themselves. No horses or transport were used. They worked 24 hours a day to construct the most expensive building in Germany (A$216 Million) since Neuschwanstein. Is it any coincidence that these two constructions were built in times of mad rulers?

Anyway, it was pretty much a big waste of time and money. Hitler was not exactly what you'd call a 'fearless' leader. On the contrary, the Führer had many phobias - claustrophobia, acrophobia, atrophobia (fear of lightning) and did you know, a fear of early death? Makes you wonder if his SS friends were being just a little bit ironic?

See to actually get up there, one needs to travel up a steep mountain, through an underground tunnel and up a shiny brass elevator...

Is it any wonder Hitler only visited his nest 14 times and for never more than half an hour...when this was the view from the top!

As it seemed rather innocous to the allies, the Eagle's Nest was saved from destruction and today is a restaurant which donates its profits to charity.

Coming up (sooner or later...) The JeTZ hop over the boarder into Austria to pick up two very precious items...

South Germany: Fussen

2008-07-12T05:20:00.002+01:00

Before the JeTZ embarked on their two year world adventure, TZ had a couple of requests.

Request one: Jeremy must promise to ensure she was always warm.
Request two: Jeremy must promise to take her to as many castles as possible.

Well TZ doesn't always get her own way...Patagonia and Switzerland weren't exactly hot spots. In this case however, instead of enjoying the beer halls of Munich as most people do when they find themselves in Bavaria, the JeTZ went to Fussen to see a castle. But not any old castle. Rather a palatial wonderland so fairytale in character that Walt Disney bore its love child - The Sleeping Beauty castle. And that, dear readers, was the primary reason for our visit. However, there is a lot more to this Romanesque fortress than meets the eye....

Schloss Neuschwanstein, Fussen The Sleeping Beauty Castle, Disneyland

Schloss Neuschwanstein (New Swan Stone), was commissioned by a visionary, an eccentric, a music lover...a madman (or so they say). Ludwig II had this castle built not only as his personal retreat but also, would you believe, as a tribute to his favourite composer, Richard Wagner. So instead of employing an architect to help realise his dream, he hired a theatrical set designer! Unfortunately we were not allowed to take photos inside the most photographed castle in the world so you'll have to imagine what it was like.

Picture elaborately decorated rooms with legendary figures and stories, a hall used by performers and musicians AND of course for Wagner himself to compose his music. Imagine Ludwig's four-poster bed with a canopy carved from wood depicting every cathedral built in Bavaria. His room alone took 10 years to complete. He had one room that was made to look like a cavern and a very sophisticated kitchen with heated cupboards. Impressive considering the times! Although declared (without examination) insane, he really should be remembered for introducing electricity to the plebs. However, perhaps it's more fun to be remembered as the flamboyant crazy man whose impressive castle was still not finished 20 years later and having spent all that time (and money from his own pocket!) on it, only living in it for a few days.

But all that is yesterday's news...moving forward 1 and half centuries, our own Jewish princess had some unreasonable demands of her own...

After being denied the castle of her dreams, Jeremy promised he would at least take photos of her with it.
TZ agreed to this on the condition that her hair was perfect for the photo shoot....

You may be wondering what this yellowish building is behind TZ, it's actually another castle called Hohenschwanstein. Ludwig II grew up in this neo-Gothic style castle and garnered inspiration for his dream home here.

Nice for some! We had to settle for having breakfast outside it.

And for those that are not interested in castles, you might like to know
that Steve McQueen filmed many of his motorcycle stunts around the town of Fussen for The Great Escape...

Coming up, the JeTZ head further east to visit Hitler's 50th birthday present and make some ironic discoveries about the dictator's phobias...

Switzerland: Ilanz, Surselva Region

2008-07-09T02:20:00.002+01:00

You may recall Heidi and Ursin as our cabin mates on the Navimag boat in Patagonia or as the couple that kept appearing along our travels at the most bizarre moments. This time however, our meeting was no accident. Given that we were already travelling along the Rhine in Germany, we couldn't help but pole vault over the border and exchange sauerkraut for Swiss cheese, Kolsch for Kluge and Audis for Mercedes...we wish! We still had to make do with public transport...and when that failed us, we had other means. More on that later.

On our first day Heidi was at work. Much to our disappointment, it appears not everyone can be on holidays at the same time as us. Luckily though Ursin had taken time off and had great plans for the JeTZ. A hike up the Cassons.

Being an experienced hiker, Ursin packed all sorts of snacks and drinks, but unfortunately he neglected to mention that at 2700m above sea level, it would be a chilly 5°C on top of the mountain.

We began our trek post haste and were quickly rewarded by the appearance of the sun.

Ursin led the way across the mountain top, to where the spring flowers gave way to the unmelted snow falls of late winter.

Jez was wearing the same shoes that he had worn to the super posh casino in Baden-Baden. All of a sudden he started to feel that leaving his hiking boots in South America hadn't been such a great idea. The path that TZ is following below was made by Ursin. The the wider path in the lower right of the photo was made by Jez's tush when he slipped and slid down the snow. Jez began to wish he had renewed his travel insurance for the European leg of the grand adventure.

It wasn't all hard work though. When we reached this picturesque valley, we whiled away our lunch break marveling at the scenery and tucking into our picnic.

The "quick touch" test, bravely performed by Ursin, revealed that this electric fence was switched off.

We were a little concerned about what would have happened had the "quick touch" test failed. Ursin reassured us by demonstrating a strange Swiss remedy for electrical shock which involves licking a particular type of tree that only grows in the Surselva region...

Here TZ faces bravely faces her fear of walking through a cow paddock. Loyal readers will recall how she was attacked by a cow in Cambridge more than a year earlier rendering her completely fearful of charging bovines. But she proves gallant remembering the important lesson of not discussing Hungry Jacks in front of them.

Later that afternoon Ursin brought us to this spectacular lake. Unlike the tepid waters we were used to swimming in, Swiss lakes are somewhat colder.

Ok, that's an outrageous understatement. These lakes are so cold even Jez refused to go in naked opting instead to wear his boardies. How did he cope in water? In his words; "you think you are going to die...and so you forget about the water".

That evening Heidi came up to see us. She came bearing gifts of the most exquisite kind called Luxenburgi...or something to that affect.

Whatever they were called though, they sure were yummy. However, the JeTZ follow a strict balanced diet. So the next day we went hiking again to work those sweet things off. Three train stops from Ilanz and we were once again in a pristine wilderness...

...full of flowers and insects...

...and shameless displays of public affection!

Inspired by carion eating birds feasting on some sort of Swiss chipmunk, we began to hunt for a place to retire for lunch.

In Switzerland camping provides no excuse to get messy. Fresh water is provided to wash, wood can be found neatly stacked...

...and the fireplace looks like it comes from Ikea!

For dessert we picked wild strawberries from the forest.

We thought the Swiss gorge was a geological feature. Ursin demonstrated that it is in fact a technique for devouring wild strawberries.

As was now becoming typical, the hike ended with a swim in an icy Swiss lake. Jez threw himself at the mercy of the cold water whilst Ursin took a more measured approach. Either way, the boys were a lot braver than the girls. They had won that round...

Later in the day though, we went to a fine Swiss pub enjoying what Jez now calls the 'holy trinity': Beer, pretzels and mustard.

We were having such a good time that by the time we left, there was no public transport - including taxis - to take us home. It was up to the girls to flex their muscles...or their thumbs.

The plan was as follows: The girls would hitch a ride home whilst the boys hid behind the bushes. With the boys out of sight, a pick-up was almost guaranteed. We thought we were safe when the car that finally stopped for us showcased a baby seat in the back. However it turned out the driver was a divorcee and was sorely disappointed when he found out neither of us were available. Meanwhile, Ursin took a photo of the car's number plate as it drove off...just in case.

This would be the last time the Swiss and Aussies would cross paths on our travels.
As we said our goodbyes, we promised that if they visited us in Australia we'd match their gracious hospitality. The offer still stands!

Coming up, the JeTZ sneak back into Germany to visit the castle that inspired Walt Disney and turned TZ into a spoilt brat....

The Black Forest: Triberg

2008-07-07T03:53:00.002+01:00

Behold: the twee little town of Triberg in the south of Germany. Yes, we were still in the Black Forest. However, we were no longer hot on the trail of Hansel and Gretal. This time, we were in pursuit of some good old fashioned kookiness. So it was only fitting that we made our way down to Triberg - famous for its cuckoo clocks, coin-operated orchestrions and Germany's tallest waterfall.

Remember when you were little and grandma had a small little music box with a pinned cylinder inside and you had to wind it to make it play Waltzing Matilda? Well even if your grandma didnt own one, someone's grandma did right? So now imagine that little music box was enormous with drums and windpipes and maybe even a piano and the little pinned cylinder was 200 times bigger. It would no longer be called a 'little music box' but an orchestrion.

See exhibit A:

We found a cacophony of these coin operated machines in the Schwarzwald museum and yes we actually paid to hear a boring assortment of Bavarian Ballads. However, we were thinking of our beloved readers. We enjoy entertaining you and this sure as hell wasn't going to do the trick. We'd have to titivate things a little...

For those who have been following our blog, you'll know that we visited Iguazu falls 8 months earlier. We didn't plan on seeing Germany's tallest waterfall but since we were here we thought we'd check it out. The comparison was stark.

Germany's tallest waterfall...

Iguazu - border of Brazil and Argentina.

The last stop in Triberg was the cuckoo clock shop. We have no photographic evidence of this though. Furthermore, we failed to see the most iconic item in Triberg - the world's biggest cuckoo clock. We had somewhat missed the mark here but we didn't really care. Our sites had been reset for another escapade across the border in Switzerland. No, we were not planning on trying another hideous cheese fondue. We were going to visit Heidi and Ursen who you may remember from our Navimag Cruise blog. Perhaps now we could solve the mystery of whose underwear had been found in our shared cabin?

The Black Forest: Baden Baden

2008-07-05T07:09:00.001+01:00

There are three very important things one must do in Baden Baden. The first is to take a dip in their thermal spas. Baden actually means 'to bathe'. The repetitious title means 'go bathe immediately'! Ok that bit's not true but what is true is that back-packers really should take any opportunity they can to wash themselves. So shortly after checking in to our hostel, we headed for Caracalla Spa. It was a thermal paradise! Bubbling whirlpools, counter-current pools, massaging water jets and a sauna complex for the ultimate schvitzing experience.

Many a famous person has come here to find relief for their ailments. However, neither of us really had any ailments requiring treatment...except one maybe. Unlike Jez who has no problem stripping off in public, TZ is somewhat more modest. Now you wouldn't have thought that modesty is an ailment but in some parts of Caracalla it most certainly was.

The Roman Sauna-scape was located in the penthouse and required guests to leave their clothes at the door or take their clothes and get out. So we decided that when in a Roman Sauna-scape... Well we obliged and stripped off, TZ clinging for dear life to her towel. We hopped into the first available sauna which was empty. Towels were quickly whipped off and we lay on the hot wooden benches. After about 30 seconds we decided it was too hot and put our towels back on and left.

We headed to the bar where we could celebrate TZ's brave initiation into nudism. There was only one problem. When the bar tender asked us to pay, Jez politely asked; "and where am I supposed to keep my credit card?"

The second important thing that one needs to do in Baden Baden is eat Black Forest cake. Here Jez samples the cake with a twist - white icing! TZ went for another local favourite - Kirsch cake. The lesson here is that it's best to eat cake after parading around like jaybirds.

According to the Frau at our hostel, the Black Forest is "savage". Well we all knew that. Hansel and Gretal were nearly baked to death in a witch's oven!
We were feeling brave though. We had come all the way down here to explore the forest and no Frau was going to stop us. So we took a bus to a place called Mumelsee.

On arrival, we were greeted by a billy goat - a sign we were definitely on the right track.

A quick photoshoot with a green neptune (which by the way we didn't have to pay for!) and we were ready to go.

On entering the forest something strange happened. It began to get rather cold and the visibility wasn't so flash either. We started to wonder if we should be throwing pebbles along the way to help us find our way back...

Hand in hand we made our way up into the depths of the forest unsure what we were looking for or where we were going. We felt relief when finally a sign post appeared before us pointing us to a place called Hornisgrinde. The highest mountain in the northern Black Forest. When we arrived at the summit though, we discovered the true meaning of Hornisgrinde: Boggy, Barren Peak. Oh...so nothing to see here.

Not only was there absolutely NOTHING to see but a thick veil of fog, it rained heavily. Did no one think to tell us that this was Germany's wettest area and that MAYBE an umbrella would have been a handy item to take? Hmmm maybe when Frau said "savage" she was referring to the weather?

So we left and returned to much better weather in Baden Baden to indulge in the final important item on our to do list: visiting their casino. Now, this is no ordinary casino. Fashioned on the French Royal palace and historically a meeting point for nobles, Germany's oldest casino was definitely a draw card for the JeTZ.

We treated ourselves to a Japanese dinner followed by dessert in an outdoor fare.

On entering the casino we had to show our passports - which we forgot. On take two we arrived with our passports in hand. Once we had made it past the interrogation counter, Jez had a bit of sprucing up to do. He hired a suit jacket with a broken button and a black and white striped tie. There, now he looked like French Royalty!

Before rolling any dice, we decided to have a drink at the bar. In an ironic twist, Jez ordered TZ a glass of Moet. If you are not sure why that is ironic, go back and read the last two blogs.

Jez played a few rounds of Black Jack but got a bit fed up when a crazy Chinese woman standing behind him kept trying to tell him how to play his cards. The JeTZ' back pockets were 60 Euros lighter, so TZ gallantly tried win it all back at the Roulette table. Several minutes later and another 44 Euros down, she left with a miserly 6 Euros. The JeTZ lamented their losses over more drinks at the bar and left feeling a little less noble than when they had walked in.

Coming up, TZ finally discovers her long lost heritage - the birth place of cuckoo clocks and presumably cuckoo people...

The Romantic Rhine

2008-07-03T17:22:00.000+01:00

...and we're back. Almost one year later the JeTZ blog has been resurrected and the old diary dusted off. If you recall we were in Germany on the run from a crazy Turkish woman and her band of merry maniacs who tried to kill Jeremy after he did a runner and refused to pay for a bottle of Moet he didn't order. We left the story there so Jez could tell this enthralling tale in person during his cameo appearance in Perth. The cameo lasted months and the blog went into semi-retirement. Now as fate would have it, we've landed up in Karratha with enough spare time on our hands to appease popular demand for the return of the JeTZ!

So the adventure continues with us running south. They would never find us down here because most tourists head to Berlin or Munich. We took the road less taken. A road so less taken it was in fact a river - the Rhine river. Here we would hop on a ferry and make our way down to the Black Forest (yes like the cake but more on that later).

Our first stop was Koblenz. What do you mean you have never heard of it? It is home to the largest pair of horse balls in the world! The horse being a statue and also proudly claiming fame for being bloody huge.

Once we had seen the horse though, it was time to go. TZ was clearly bored and ready for something a bit more exciting.

Actually we did stay in Koblenz over night but the next morning we hopped back on the ferry and made our down way to Boppart. They dont call it the Romantic Rhine for nothing. The view was nothing short of spectacular with castles and church spires littering the landscape.

Later that day, whilst walking around the cobbled steets of Boppart, we stumbled across a crooked little house - of the tea variety! Inside we found an impressive collection of 100 different kinds of teas. Being highly adventurous with our food and beverage as usual, we selected 'Five O'Clock' tea.

We also made a less interesting discovery when we visited the bent wood museum...

...but TZ managed to amuse herself.

The following morning we packed up yet again. Our day started out typical German style - with an altercation. It seemed to us that every time a German person raised their voice to us, we would fear for our lives. So when a crazed Crout insisted that our ferry ticket was invalid, we did what we do best. We ran away, sneakily made some "adjustments" to our tickets and on returning to the ferry, showed someone else our ticket who let us on board. We were not only street wise, we were river wise too!

Many castles and church spires later, we arrived in the teeny tiny town of Bacharach. Isn't it cute?

Unfortunately the Bacharachians weren't as excited to see us as we were them. Our hotel booking had mysteriously disappeared. So we had to hunt down some where else to stay. The hotel we chose was nice enough except our room had a faint odour of sewage. But we didn't stick around to smell it. Instead we set out for some wholesome German tucker. Unfortunately, everywhere we went we were shooed away like flies. How could everything be closed, wasn't it lunch time at 13:30? Finally a wholesome German lady saved us from starving to death and welcomed us into the only open restaurant in the whole of Bacharach.

Although the town was small, there was much to explore. Have a look at the photo above. Notice the green fields in the top left hand corner? That dear readers is a hill. And where there are hills, there must be climbers.

So we set off to discover what was at the top and boy were we in for a shock! Why was there a giant window lying before us?

What we were looking at were the ruins of the Werner Chapel. It was here the fake legend began about a boy who was supposedly murdered in a ritual killing by Jews. This story was then used as pretext to several religious riots spanning centuries. The window now serves as a memorial and symbolises unity between different faiths.

On returning, the town had come alive (to the best of its ability). We eased our pangs of hunger with cheese and wine and pretzels of course!

The following day we'd head to our last stop on the Rhine and the first stop at the mouth of the Black Forest. It was here we were hoping to find out exactly what inspired Hans Christiaan Anderson to write Hansel and Gretal. We would not be disappointed...

Germany: Weissenhauser Strand

2008-06-26T16:29:00.001+01:00

Our German adventure started in the resort of Weissenhauser Strand on the Baltic coast. In the nearby town of Oldenburg Jeremy's good mate from uni, Tim Gifford, was getting married to the beautiful Mareille. We were among a contingent of Aussies who had come across for their big day. To get a little more acquainted with Tim's mates prior to the wedding, we took a day trip to a place called Kiel where we would make a very unfortunate discovery.

Gigantic pork bbqs...

Half meter pork sausages...

Oh, something not made from pork...sweets!

Thankfully, Germany does have something else to entice its pork-fearing visitors, beer. So, what happens if you dont drink beer? Well as TZ can testify, you are booed off stage. Below you can see TZ's over-sized lemonade being toasted (and simultaneously outcast) against the other beers.

Here's something the JeTZ could enjoy together - Mojitos! We had not had a decent one since our time in Prague but Germans seem to have their culinary skills down to a fine art. We began to accept that from this moment forth, our diets would have to be put on hold until further notice.

Before leaving the festival, we came across this interesting Elvis impersonator. His voice was so deep it was if it came from his recesses of his bowels. Oddly though by the time that voice reached his mouth and our ears, it did sound an awful lot like Elvis. In fact if it weren't for the fact that his side burns were tattooed onto his face, we might have claimed a legitimate Elvis sighting.

On the day of the wedding, the JeTZ scrubbed up very well wearing their Sunday best. Despite the beautiful wedding ceremony, in the church Jez appeared distracted. He could smell an odour most foul. Something akin to dog poo...it was in fact dog poo. And it was hanging for dear life to one of the brand new heels that TZ was wearing. Lets just say that it's not as easy as you think to go from backpacker to fit-for-human-society in so short period of time.

Tim and Mareille on the other hand looked like a beautiful and highly-civilized couple. When the Australian contingent degenerated in the wee hours of the morning they were like a rose amongst thorns.

When the happy couple first met, Tim did not know a word of German. But with some one-on-one tuition from Mareille , his tongue quickly learnt its way around the uber-sized, multi-syllabic German diction. (Hey if the Germans can make up their own words, so can we!) At the wedding, poor Tim had to give his speech twice. Once in English and once in German. So we would know which language he was speaking, he wore his German flag wig when he was speaking German and his cork hat when speaking 'stralian.

And when Tim was drinking, he wore his lay.

When the Aussie crew were drinking, we did it German style - red bull and Jagermeister shots. Although as you can see, not all of us could wait for the photo to be taken...

Things started to get a little unusual when Tim was dressed up as a baby, shaved, fed and had has his teeth brushed by his new wife.
Meanwhile, back at our tables, we sat with our arms linked singing a crazy German song in which we had to chant 'die sau, die sau' - the pig the pig...turn it into sausage (or something unkosher to that effect).

The frivolity continued and at 2AM a gigantic cheese platter was brought out signaling that we must continue to eat and be merry. Sheets of white material were laid out for us to write our good wishes. At around 2:30AM a select few sheets were fashioned into the hot air balloon you see below and launched into the starry night.
Stranger still, when we left the party shortly after 3AM, the sun was just rising.

Only hours later, we decided to take a walk to the beach. We were only moments from the Baltic Sea and we would be damned if we did not at least see what all the fuss was about. As Jez can testify the water is freezing. Fuss over.

However, if you are keen to hang out at the beach despite the hideous cold, you can cosy up in one of these little shelters. Not quite like lounging around on the beaches of Brazil, but ten out of ten for quirkiness!

We left Tim and Mareille the following day and visited the town of Lübeck to ingest a healthy dose of marzipan. We landed up in Hamburg a little unsure of where we were to go next. It wasnt until a rather unpleasant bar room brawl occurred involving Jez, a rambunctious Turkish woman and a 250 Euro bottle of Moet that we bolted for the countryside. We must press on but if you do wish to hear the story, Jez will be making a cameo appearance in Perth for a few days from 17 October and can fill you in on the gory details.

Farewell London...

2008-06-17T02:14:00.001+01:00

A tribute to our friends and family who made us feel at home in London.
After seven months of travelling around South America we briefly returned to London to say a few farewells...
Goodbye beautiful Hampstead Heath. How we loved walking around you and setting off fireworks at Halloween. Sorry about the holes we left in your grass.

Goodbye underground. We wont miss the sweaty armpits we had to press up against in peak hour, the incessant delays, the extortionate fees we had to pay or even the trashy tabloids we got for free. But nothing made us feel more English than having a good old whinge about it!

Goodbye grey skies and drizzle. We will miss how moaning about the bad weather bonded us to any given Londoner.

Goodbye Brick Lane. Here Jez has one last sampling of his favourite Ethiopian food. We will also miss seeing the array of stolen items (mainly bicycles) and crappy goods for sale on the streets. It would not be uncommon to see someone selling, for example, one pair of electric blue high heeled shoes, an Australian plug, three used cotton buds and a bent fork.

There were some places we had to revisit just to say good riddance. Like the infamous Mr Wu's all-you-can-eat buffet for just £4.95 which should have come with a free all-you-can-vomit bag.

We still maintain that you don't need to go much further than London to sample some of the best pastries in the world...
Hand modelling done by TZ. Nail colour: Suzie says Dah by OPI care of Mrs Helen Murphy.

Goodbye crazy Camden Town. How fondly we recall the markets and the weird people. We will even miss the stupid low riding, underwear- showing pants fashion commonly seen there.

Hello new piercing. Dont get excited. It was only a normal ear piercing that needed to be redone. Doesn't this scary looking tattoo and piercing artist look a little like Amy Winehouse from behind? Her chest was a metal-detectors dream come true. We raised our eyebrows in unison as she demonstrated just how two piercings were actually joined by a bolt under her thin chest skin. And we winced in pain as she pointed out that a nearby stud was actually imbedded - the scar tissue around the piercing was there to prove it!

Not too longer after we had recovered from seeing the insane piercings, TZ found herself in the hot seat again with a public eyebrow threading experience. It's like waxing but with cotton thread and it's a lot more painful!

Not to be outdone, Jez decided to get in on the action too. He assured everyone that he wont be making a habit out of maintaining his eyebrows as he does no believe in the separation of powers.

Goodbye Prime Meridian. How important we felt having the rest of the world's times revolve around ours!

Goodbye Memo. You may remember we visited Memo and his family in Mexico a while back. Who knows when our paths will cross again? Memo, bring your parents and come visit your family in Australia soon!

Bye bye Kibbutznicks, Nadia, Mel and Sam. We will miss laughing until we cried with you.

At least Jez and Mel would later see each other in Israel!

Thank you to Baz and Helen for your hospitality and looking after our big box of rubbish while we were gone. Baz, a million thank yous for taking care of business while we were out of the country.

A very special thank you to our family in London: Mel, Barbara, Lily and Jazzy who made us feel like we were at home from the minute we arrived. We still day dream about your amazing Friday night dinners, the walks around your beautiful garden and the sharing of outstanding red wine.

To Rachael and Andrew, thankfully we wont have to miss you guys now that you are back in Perth. We are delighted that you have multiplied the BernSousa family. Rachael, we want to know if little Oscar inherited mummy's fangs?

To the Harris' - Frank, Laraine, Daniel and Jeremy. Thank you for your kindness and ensuring we always had a place to go for the high holidays.
And finally, to our ex house mate Ron, where ever you are. No hard feelings about the whole flat sharing thing not working out...
Next stop: Germany.

New York

2008-06-11T11:50:00.000+01:00

"Start spreading the news, I'm leaving today
I want to be a part of it - new York, new York
These vagabond shoes, are longing to stray
Right through the very heart of it - New York, New York" - Frank Sinatra
Before we arrived in New York, Jez emailed his old Kibbutz friend Josh to tell him of our impending visit. Although very welcoming, he regarded us with suspicion. The idea of hosting two smelly backpackers possibly carrying any number of South American borne diseases was indeed cause for concern. Of course we couldn't see the consternation on Josh's face over email but he kept that look until the day we showed up at his bachelor pad in Brooklyn.

Josh had just graduated from Law school but he still had to sit the bar exam. So our arrival was a little untimely. We assured him we would be no trouble and that we would entertain ourselves.
There was just one problem...we did not have our bible on us. A Lonely Planet to tell us where to go, what to do, how to think. So we picked up the next best thing...

Just kidding, we didn't buy that book. We've seen plenty of movies so we know what there is to do in New York. Who doesn't? We've all seen those romantic comedies where lovers land up kissing on top of the Empire State Building...

You may recall the restaurant from "When Harry met Sally" in which a customer says she will have what Sally is having. It is a real restaurant and it's called Katz. No fake orgasms were played out on the day we went. Jez had a real one when he bit into his tasty corn beef sandwich.

It is always important to understand the root cause of a problem. So we went to research the kinds of foods that are making Americans obese. Dunkin Donuts was the obvious starting point.

This was then followed by German beer gardens. Here Jez made an important religious discovery. The holy trinity - pretzel, mustard and beer.

"Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me..." - The New Colossus by Emma Lazarus
That described us perfectly! We were tired and homeless and tempest-tossed. Would the Statue of Liberty take us in?

She was surprisingly hospitable. Despite the fact that we had not bought a special ticket to enter her base we were allowed in. Inside was a museum and a life-size replica of her face and foot. Also inside was a step by step instruction set on how to make your own statue of liberty should the occasion arise. Lady Liberty is made from copper sheets which are assembled on a grid framework made of iron. Although she is not really that nice copper colour anymore, over time she has turned a little green.
She was actually a gift from France to celebrate the centennial of the American Declaration of Independence. She was built in France and then disassembled into 250 parts, packed into 2114 crates and shipped across to New York. She was then reassembled on Bedloe's island (now called Liberty Island) in 1885.
And now for a test: which famous Frenchman designed her internal structure? Hint: 13 years later he would construct a very famous icon in Paris.

We also knew that we could not leave New York without sampling kosher hot dogs or seeing a baseball game. Jez went the whole 9 yards with his hot dog sampling and taking his lead from Josh, washed it down with Budweiser.

Unfortunately, the weather had its own plans. It rained. In buckets. It was unrelenting. After waiting for an hour, the game was finally cancelled. Ludicrous! Looking around it became clear that the Yanks were indeed lightweights. Enlarge the photo to your right for further evidence of lightweightness...

The Mets decided to show us that if it were up to them, they would be on the field playing baseball. Click below to restore your faith in mankind.

After the game, we decided to go for a drink at the very posh Waldorf Astoria. You may be wondering how they let us into their bar area looking like drowned backpackers. We think it was Jez's t-shirt. The one that says "hoja de coca no es droga" - The coca leaf is not a drug.

Shisha isn't a drug either...not an illegal one anyway. Here Jez makes a tribute to another of his Kibbutz friends, Michel, who you may remember from our time in Sao Paulo. We also made another tribute to Michel. A video which will be screened at our welcome home party. Extra points will be awarded to anyone who yells out "you got the cinnamon" before the movies starts...

And so we farewelled young Josh and wished him well for his bar exam. Next stop, home...or at least our old home.

Atlanta: Detainment Story

2008-06-10T10:56:00.000+01:00

On route to New York, we had to make a short stopover in Atlanta. If you have never been there, dont go rushing out to buy a ticket, we can paint you a picture. Think Ricky Lake. Now pretend all of Atlanta is one big Ricky Lake show where obese contestants all wear velvet tracksuits. You get the idea.
So we are in the airport going through security with our forms. Shaquinita (not her real name but it could have been) asks Jeremy to please sign his landing form. The conversation goes as follows:
Jez: "Sure, can I please borrow a pen"
Shaquinita: "I'm sorry sir, we do not lend out pens."
Jez: "You're joking right?"
A stand off ensues.
Shaquinita: "You will need to go and find a pen sir"
Another stand off ensues.
Meanwhile, TZ has a pen but is fascinated to see how this plays out so does not hand over her pen. Jez goes to ask someone else in security if they have a pen. He is told once again that they do not lend out pens.
On returning to Shaquinita, TZ finally hands over her own pen. We sign the forms and hand them over.
To make matters worse Jez no longer feels like volunteering information. So when asked where we were staying he says "with a friend." And who might this friend be? "Josh" And where did you meet? "Abroad."
After stamping our forms. She places our passports in a red folder. Then calls a security officer, in code, to escort us to the Department of Homeland Security office.
We cannot believe how this has turned out! Inside Homeland Security a woman is being reprimanded and told she has no right enter the US of A ma'am. We sit like naughty children waiting to be called to the principal's office. After half an hour, someone calls us up, peaks inside the red folder and tells us we are free to go.
You can add drama queen to the velvet clad obese Ricky Lake contestants that are the population of Atlanta!

Machu Picchu and Beyond

2008-06-09T18:06:00.000+01:00

If you have not read the previous blog, we strongly recommend clicking back before going any further. For the rest of you, welcome back.
At 3:30 am the fake crow alarm sounds. Waiting for us in the meal's tent was this wonderful cake! A cake that was made the night before. It said "Feliz viaje a Machu Picchu" Happy travel to Machu Picchu.

Jorge had impressed upon us this important piece of information: his group is always the first to reach Machu Picchu. There were other groups around the camp site. However, we were the closest group to the entrance gate. That alone would not guarantee first prize. This is why we got up half an hour earlier than the other groups. And this is why we bolted for the entrance gate after scoffing down our cake.
On reaching the entrance gate we had to wait....
...and wait...and wait for 1.5 hours when security would arrive to check our tickets.

And when that door opened it was like we had been teleported to Pamplona on the day they run the bulls. Click below to hear our elation on being the first group to make it through.

On the other side of the gates we moved swiftly in the dark. We could hear the other groups advancing behind us.

After an hour we finally reached the Sun gate, the entrance to Machu Picchu. It is through this gate the sun enters and lights up the Lost City.

We walked down a path towards Machu Picchu anxious to finally see the real thing. But we always have time for llamas so we stopped to snap these docile cuties. Below, TZ asked this llama if he had any idea just how prime his real estate was!

Ladies and gentleman, may we present the spectacular Machu Picchu. The culmination of not only our 4 day hike along the famous Inca trail but of our 7 month journey around South America...

We extend our gratitude to Jorge for making it possible to take a photo like this with no one but our group in it!

It did not take long for hoards of tourists to arrive - including a surprising reunion with our friends John and Finola. You may remember them from previous blogs such as the Amazon and Arequipa.

For those tourists keen to see Machu Picchu but not keen to partake in any kind of strenuous activity, they can simply take a helicopter ride. Below we were horrified to see the landing pad.

Jorge took us down into the Lost City to show us just why it is so remarkable.

The Incas were among the best stone masons the world had seen. They were masters of a technique called ashlar in which blocks of stone are cut to fit together tightly without mortar. Many junctions are so perfect that not even a knife fits between the stones.

Peru is a highly seismic land. Interestingly, the mortar free construction is actually more earthquake-resistant than using mortar. However, Jorge pointed out several more design details that would further prevent the walls from collapsing in the event of an earthquake. For example, the doors and windows tilt inward from bottom to top and the walls are offset slightly from row to row as you may be able to see in the picture below.
As a result, Machu Picchu is a city that has stood up well to earthquakes over the years. Considering it was built in 1450 this is a remarkable achievement!

The Incas never used the wheel in any form to assist them with transporting the stones. So how they moved and placed enormous blocks of stones on one another is a mystery. The general belief is that they used hundreds of men to push the stones up inclined planes.
A few of the stones still have knobs on them that could have been used to lever them into position. After they were placed, the Incas would have sanded the knobs away.

We came across this interesting rock formation. Does it resemble anything else you can see in the photo? Maybe the mountain range behind? The Incas never fail to impress!

Those who chose to take a helicopter ride would have found out the easy way that Machu Picchu was actually built in the shape of a llama! Those who prefer to do things the hard way climb up Wyna Picchu - the prominent mountain shown below...and present in almost every photo on this page!

Having hiked already for 4 days, some of us where less keen than others to climb again...

But the JeTZ have a philosophy, well many really, but one of the most useful one is this: The harder it is to get somewhere, the more rewarding the experience. Only 400 people are allowed to climb Wyna Picchu in a day but because we were so fortunate to have arrived early, we were one of the lucky 400 people.
Jez and Rob are not star gazing in this photo. The climb was steep but look at the smile on Jez's face. Pain seems to be his best friend!

And what a view from the top! Never had we seen such a concertina of mountains before!

You need to use a little imagination but here you can see an aerial shot of a llama-shaped Machu Picchu.
To be perfectly honest, even we could hardly make it out.

The climb down was interesting. Rickety ladders and tiny steps guiding us down the scenic route to a cave...

...which proved to us that the journey was indeed more important than the destination!

Every year porters and guides run a race across 44 km of the Inca trail. The current world record is held by a porter who took just 3 hours and 45 minutes to complete the task. But that's not even the most impressive part, he did it in sandals!

Machu Picchu

2008-06-05T22:35:00.000+01:00

It was four am. The door bell to our hostel rang. We were ready with our backpacks to go. Quickly and quietly we walked to the door of the hostel where we were met by our guide. Groggy and tired we stepped into the mini van and were surprised by a sudden round of hand clapping from a bunch of men all dressed in red. This was how we started our 4 day trek along the famous Inca Trail to Machu Picchu otherwise known as the Lost City of the Incas.

Meet the expedition crew starting from the left: Rob form Ireland. The New Zealanders, Karen and Robert. The Yanks Jarred and his girlfriend Lindsay and of course, us.
Keen observers will note the distinct lack of backpacks on the JeTZ. Both of us cite medical reasons for not carrying our own stuff which our lawyers say we are not obliged to divulge.

The stone path we would be following was made by the Incas and is aptly called the Inca Trail. "Path" is not really an accurate description as that doesn't really conjure up the right picture. Staircase is probably a better word. We only ever seemed to be walking upstairs for hours on end or downstairs for hours on end. Even the word staircase is not exactly right. That might imply an evenness in the space between stairs. These kinds of stairs were arbitrarily spaced and shaped. Sometimes you needed to tip toe up them as there was not even space for your foot. And sometimes a giant step was needed to make it up to the next stair.

This may seem arduous especially as we were at altitude but don't be fooled. Initially we stopped every 5 minutes to hear about a particular plant, have some water or take some photos. Until our guide got to know us better, he basically treated us like obese American tourists. We suddenly realised why it takes 4 days to get to Machu Picchu!

The good news was that whenever we walked for hours uphill, there was always a reward at the top - breath taking views. We kept oscillating our feelings towards the Incas. Generally during the harder parts of the trek, we considered them insane masochists. When it came to discovering their wondrous sites, we just marvelled at their ingenuity.
Below was the first Inca site we came across called Q'Entimarka.

The even better news was that normally after descending for many hours we were rewarded with a lunch. Take a good look at the photo below. Neatly folded serviettes, stainless steel cutlery and food fit for Inca royalty. And all of it was ready for us when we arrived! Before eating, we could wash our hands with soap and water and dry them on a towel. Did we really deserve all this? And who was doing all the work behind the scenes? Read on to find out.

Nicknamed, "The Red Army", we had 10 porters (including a chef) travelling with us carrying our tents, food, supplies and now you know, the JeTZ backpacks.

These guys truly humbled us. Unlike many other porters that we saw along the way, our porters always travelled together. Each one carried a maximum load of 17 kg. But if they had to, they could carry much more. What do you think would happen if someone injured themselves and could no longer walk? There were no animals allowed on the trail, no helicopters could be called out. A porter would have to pick that person up and carry them back to the base.

Below is a photo of a lone porter from another company. Many times during our trip we were glad we had chosen to go with a company that treated the porters well.

On the first night, we arrived at our campsite with a round of applause and high fives from our favourite Red Army. The clapping was now commonplace. Every time we arrived at our campsite or for lunch they would clap for us. Every time they overtook us on the trail, we would stand aside and clap for them. It really was a great way to keep up the moral!
At the campsite, we could not believe our eyes. Not only were our comfortable dome tents set up and snacks served (hot popcorn and Milo!), but hot water and soap was provided too. What luxury! That said, our portable shower (wet ones) were still very handy for those harder to reach places...

Our chef was masterful making the most amazing three course meals complete with interesting adornments made out of vegetables.

The following morning, we were woken up by a crow. Or so we thought. Actually the porters come around with a crow sounding alarm. It might as well have been a crow though considering how early our starts were. But we were not in the least bit grumpy. After being woken up we got a wonderful surprise. The porters came to our tents with bowls of hot water to wash our faces with and offered us coca tea or coffee on a silver platter!

On day two, we were in for a bit of a shock. A promised 3 hour uphill climb to the highest point of the Inca trail called "Dead woman's pass". This is a rock formation that looks like a woman lying on her back. One can only speculate why she is called dead and not sleeping. Our guess was that she probably died from the walk up!

Here we are elated to have arrived at the top in less than the predicted 3 hours. Form then on, Jorge stopped treating us like obese Americans and sped up the pace. Our elation was tempered by the fact that ahead of us lay a 2 hour steep decline.

Note the walking poles. Normally we are adverse to such things but if you have read our Torres Del Paines blog, you will know that there was no other way to do the hike unless TZ was prepared to be carried back to base on the shoulders of a porter.

Along the way, we hardly saw any animals. And definitely no llamas! But we did see this buck of sorts and so he should make it into our blog!

After lunch, we set off again in the direction of up only to Runkuraqay, another Inca ruin. This ruin was discovered by Hiram Bingham, the same person that discovered Machu Picchu. He was searching for the entrance to the Lost City when he found this site. Possibly a fortress, put perhaps more likely a resting place for hikers along the Inca Trail.

And then it was more uphill for us rested travellers. Jez a little more energetic than the rest of us today, went on ahead of the group and enjoyed a few moments of serenity at the next vantage point which offered wonderful views of the snow peaked mountain Veronica.

Meanwhile, TZ stopped for a chat with a old American man whom we met several times on our hike. Each time we saw him, he was sitting. We could not understand how he made any headway. He said that at his age, he needed a plan. The plan for him was to walk 10 minutes and then sit for 5 minutes. This seemed like a good plan until we later found out that he was hours behind his group and basically had to be assigned his own guide to ensure he was safe and knew where to go.

What goes up, must come down. We headed for another interesting Inca site. You can see it in the distance in the photo to our right.

Just a little climb uphill now and we would be there...

To the left of the photo below you can see the staircase leading up to the site called Sayaqmarka which apparently means "inaccessable on top of the mountain". Well it wasn't entirely inaccessable but it was hard work getting there.

At the top, our guide explained a few things to us. Unfortunately he was not good at working out where the shadier parts were to have our chats and so we sweltered in the heat. It took a little imagination but he showed us a flat rock with a few random looking holes in it. They were supposed to be markings to indicate the Southern Cross.
From this configuration of the stars, the symbolic Andean Cross was derived. The Chakana as it is otherwise called, takes its shape from those stars. The 'steps' in the cross also symbolise the three tiers of Inca life. The lower, temporal and higher world. Each tier has a symbolic animal associated with it: The snake, puma and condor respectively.
Seeing stairs in their religious symbol was very interesting. Suddenly our pilgrimage took on a whole new dimension...

We had time to explore the rest of the ruins but by this stage of the day we were knackered.

We could barely believe Jorge when he said that our campsite was only 15 minutes away! We were delighted again to arrive at our ready made tents, hot water and snacks.

That night Jez and Rob had another star gazing chat. It had started the night before when Karen pointed out a dark patch in the sky saying it looked like a llama. And if we looked closely we could see its baby. Jez and Rob searched for more answers in the sky while the rest of us when to sleep.
The temperature descended well beyond zero degrees in the night. Despite wearing every layer of clothing possible and snuggled deep into our sleeping bags, we still froze.

Day 3 of the trail started at the more reasonable hour of 7am. Today we were going to head into the cloud forest. The scenery was promised to be the most impressive yet. We were not in the least bit disappointed.
The first part of our hike was relaxing with Jorge pointing out various flowers to us. Below is the world's smallest orchid.

We climbed through some interesting rock formations.

Then up up and away until we reached this significant pass. It was exhilarating to know that just beyond the mountain range you see behind us, lay Machu Picchu!

What was even more amazing, was that our guide wanted photos taken. Considering he has done the Inca Trail 600 times, one would wonder why on earth he would want more photos? He told us it was because it was so rare to have this kind of visibility. We had no idea how lucky we were!

We made our way to another Inca site called Phuyupatamarka which means cloud level town. We may have been at cloud level, but there were no clouds to be level with!

As we descended we saw the Red Army marching together down below. While we had been resting our wary bodies, our boys had been forging ahead to ensure our campsite would be set up and ready for us.

The scenery had changed dramatically. We were clearly now into the cloud forest...although luckily for us there was neither cloud nor rain as is highly characteristic for this stage of the hike regardless of the season.

We stopped to rest at Intipata which is not actually that impressive up close. It is just basically terrace upon terrace making it nicer to view from afar.

That said, we all took time out to enjoy the peacefulness and soak up the beautiful views. We wondered if life really could get better than this.

We arrived at our campsite earlier on this day. We were so excited to find out that Jorge had managed to secure the very best location for us on the very best camp site just before the entrance to Machu Picchu. This meant, barring any extenuating circumstances, we would be the first group to make it to the Sun Gate entrance of the Lost City!
And just around the corner from our campsite, was this most amazing Inca site called Winaymayna meaning "Forever Young".

We had a big window of opportunity to explore the site and take photos.

Despite the fact that we had been hiking up and down stairs all day, we just could not help wanting to play around this wondrous set of ruins.

Jez on the other hand, could not help stripping down to nothing and being one with nature.

Many readers have asked why they never see nudey shots of TZ, well we dont like disappoint so to see nudey shot of TZ :

We tried to have an early night as we would have to wake up at 3:30. This would ensure we would be the first group to make it through the entrance gate which was now only 5 minutes away! But Jez and Rob had other plans. They still wanted to cram in one last star gazing session. To be fair, it really was the clearest we had ever seen the stars and who knew when next we would have such a treat?
Coming up, we finally make it to the end of our journey...or so we thought...

Cuzco and the Sacred Valley

2008-05-30T21:03:00.000+01:00

As you may know now from reading previous blogs, we love our Andean camels. Sure there have been some some incidences but mainly our encounters have only endeared us to them further. On our bus ride from Puno to Cuzco we would see the most interesting kind: the llama. Read on to see just how many varieties we saw along the way.
Sometimes we had to pay for the privilege of posing with them...

Sometimes we could play with them for free. Although in this picture it's hard to tell which one the llama is. They both seem to visit the same barber.

Sometimes the llamas were only interested in us if we gave them gifts.

or fed them...

But this one wasn't interested in us at all. No matter how we called him, offered him flowers or food, he just would not budge.

In Peru, we noticed a disturbing item on food menus, the guinea pig. Later we learnt that these creatures are not only of religious significance but they are also pretty tasty when deep fried. We cannot verify this but generally anything deep fried tastes good so we would not be surprised if this was true.
It was the Incas who first domesticated the guinea pig and used them for food. At this time, people used to worship animals, especially those that were domesticated. After the Spanish arrived, the guinea pig was incorporated as a religious symbol. It is not uncommon to see depictions of Christ and his disciples dining on guinea pig at the last supper.

If you had to guess what the picture below is of, what would you say? An ant hill? A pile of rocks? A ruin? If you guessed the world's smallest volcano you would be right. Unfortunately, we did not stop and have breakfast here. If we had, we would have been able to learn the subtle art of frying eggs using the heat of the volcano.

Below is a picture taken at Raqchi - a remarkable Inca construction made from adobe and built on volcanic rock. The photo on your right is part of the Wiracocha temple which was an impressive 100 meters tall.

After our meanderings through the living quarters and storage rooms in the ruins, we wondered through the markets stalls outside.

There was only one thing we were interested in buying - freshly squeezed orange juice. Here Jez demonstrates how to turn orange peel into spaghetti.

Finally, after 7 hours we arrived in Cuzco, the mythical city of the Inca empire. However, this place feels more like the tourist capital of Peru. Although very attractive, we could not wait to hop on a local bus and discover the secrets of the Sacred Valley.

The Sacred Valley is a horticulturalist's dream. It is a stunning and dramatic landscape with ideal climatic conditions and fertile land. It is easy to see why this valley was chosen as a settlement point for the Incas. And of course why it is a favoured spot for day trips. We were not interested in a whirlwind tour. We wanted to take our time and stay in the valley for a night. After working out the chaotic local bus system, we made our way to Pisac. Here they have wonderful markets and a hill which we could climb to see some Inca ruins.

TZ took a small breather (or rather a large breather considering how thin the air was) while Jez went for a wonder. He discovered what looked like a miniature version of Machu Picchu. He asked someone to take a photo of him so he could come back and show me what I was missing out on.

Unfortunately, one must be very careful of who they ask to take their photos. A peril all travellers are subject to. As you can see by the photo above, it was almost impossible for TZ to really understand what the big fuss was about. But as you can see by the photos below, the valley and agricultural terraces creeping up the mountain slopes are stunning.

That night we made our way to a place called Ollantaytambo. (For what its worth, we recommend trying to say this name. It's quite fun when you get your tongue around it.) Anyway, this town is very beautiful and was built on top of original Inca foundations. It is particularly famous because it is the only town that the Spanish did not conquer.

Behind the town, is an Inca religious site. It was very convenient that the site was only 10 minutes from our hostel. You can see behind these buildings the steps leading up to Temple Hill. We happily left our trusty compass behind that day.

That said, our hostel owner had a dog...and so you probably know by now that if we are about to go out and a dog is anywhere near us*, he will naturally escort us.
*See similar dog stories here in Salta and here in the Colca Canyon.

When we arrived at the sight we organised a guide to take us around. Our dog was very happy to share guiding duty, patiently waiting for us to catch up with him where ever he was.

While we relaxed on a rock, our guide told us how the temple was built using enormous rocks which people carried up the hill from a nearby area. You can see these rocks below. Notice the grooves in them which were created so that walls could be built up with interlocking rocks. Not mortar was used between the rocks. This was the ingenuity in Inca architectural.

The Incas built several storehouses on the hills surrounding Ollantaytambo. They were constructed at high altitudes, where there is more wind and the temperatures are lower. This helped defend the contents against decay. It is a little hard to tell from this photo but there really is a store house on the side of the mountain!

The best bit was yet to come. Click on the video below to view the method in which the purity of a person could be tested. Those that were not deemed pure were prohibited from entering the temple. Turn the volume up loud to hear over the gushing water.
Note: Our puppy followed us down here and just as we were about to shoot the video, he decided to take a bath in the sacred waters.

Around Cuzco there are some other interesting ruins to see. Read the following sign (a few times if necessary) to see why TZ is posing below.

Saqsaywaman (the ruin) is considered one of the new 7 wonders of the world. It was an important religious site for the Incas. It is constructed with enormous boulders that were put together perfectly again without using mortar. The heaviest bolder weighs up to 125 tons.

And sitting on his throne is Saqsayman.

Did you miss the llamas already? Here is another photo. After we snapped this guy rounding up his llamas he insisted we pay him!

A little further down the road, we lunched at a restaurant that had its own trout farm. The owner had several staff to clean the algae infested swamp of a lake. At the same time, he sold food so that people could feed the trout. That's one way to solve the unemployment problem...

In a separate excursion, we visited a very interesting place called Moray. Here there is a rather unusual land formation - circular shaped terraces in an amphitheatre of sorts. The site was apparently an Inca agricultural research station designed for experimenting with crops at various altitude.

We did some experimenting of our own. How would Jez fare at the very bottom layer in the middle?

He was faring a little too well, slowly turning into a crop. You can see just the head of him at the back...

So TZ came to rescue Jez.

Since we were in the area, we heard there was a salt mine nearby which was worth checking out. We could not really imagine a salt mine being that interesting but we decided to see it anyway and were thoroughly blown away...

This salt mine was not the big hole in the ground we expected. It was giant rectangle bodies of salt water. What was mad about this place is that it was a free for all. No evidence of health and safety rules, no physical barriers of any kind to keep visitors clear of the salt pools. We could literally walk around and do what we wanted. So Jez took the liberty of adding a little of his own salty water to the mix...

Did you start to miss the llamas again? Ok. We will leave you with one more.

Coming up next, the grande finale of our South American adventure. Our four day pilgrimage to see the breath-taking Lost City of the Incas - Machu Picchu.

Puno

2008-05-28T18:52:00.000+01:00

Beside the sparkling clear visibility, the deep blue hue, and the fantastically high altitude (3812m), the most remarkable feature of Lake Titicaca is the group of 40 or so floating man-made islands collectively called Uros. Made entirely of floating reeds called totora, these islands are home to several small communities. To visit them is another matter all together. We had to take a tour - and if you have been following our blogs you will know by now we like to do our own thing at all costs.

So we found a tour agency that got a big tick from the Lonely Planet and were told that they were different from other companies as their guides were university educated English speakers with outstanding local knowledge. This was all very well, if of course you know who and where your guide is. We sat on our tour boat enjoying the pan pipe show looking around for someone who looked university educated and English speaking with outstanding local knowledge. But no one on the boat fitted that description.

Our guide finally materialised when we arrived half an hour later at the first floating island. He showed us where we were on the map and described how the islands were made and what they were used for. There is some conjecture as to the original purpose of these islands but ultimately they provided a safe haven from savage mainlanders - such as the Incas or the Spanish.

It was a little easier to describe the making of the islands with a demonstration. Below you can see one of the locals had built a replica of the island, complete with little figurines and houses.
First you need to find a big clump of floating reeds. These are normally attached to the river bed but in time the wind dislodges them. Then, take a huge quantity of cut reeds and place on top. If you can walk on it without falling into a hole and drowning, you have successfully made a floating island. By the way, walking on the island feels a bit like walking on a water bed.

Once you make your island, then you should make a boat or two. And the good news is, the boats are also made out of totora. Beware, just because you put scary faces on the boats, doesn't mean tourists will stay away.

So you plan to live on the island? Well you will need a house. And guess what? You can use the same reed to build it! Totora can also be used for cooking fuel and treatment of minor ailments. Best of all, you can even eat it! Well only the heart of it anyway. Now for the bad news. After three or four months, the reeds start to rot and loose their bounce-factor. So you need to get in your boat and go find more reeds to replace the rotting ones.

If you insist on still being connected to the real world, then you can even have your own TV.

When the islanders aren't doing domestic chores, they are making products to sell to tourists. They make various weavings depicting events from their daily lives. We are now proud owners of some of their works.
Twenty years ago, a newly married couple would have built themselves an island, naming it after themselves. Now settlements are larger and many of the little islands have been abandoned and left to rot.

We farewelled our colourful islander friends and headed to another floating island to indulge in more shopping.

We hopped on the boat hungry and ready for lunch. We were told that we would have lunch when we reached Amantani Island. What we weren't told was that this island was still another two hours away.
Amantani is home to about 3600 Quechua speaking people - so our Spanish would be of no use here. The island is free from modern day conveniences like electricity or cars. It was on this island that we would stay the night. On arrival a tribe of mums arrived to greet us. Each ready to take a small group of gringos into their homes. We were supposed to bring a gift like fresh fruit or rice but do you think our guide told us this? No.

We carefully followed our mum back to her house making sure we never took her eye off her as all mums on the island look the same from behind!

Her home was quite far from the shore. She shuffled in her well-worn sandals over rocks and hills, through farms and alleys until we reached her home.

While we settled into our new room, our mum prepared lunch for us. We could not believe her kitchen. She had no electricity, no cupboards and no tables to prepare the food on. We marvelled as this little old lady slowly moved around her smokey kitchen constantly bending down to pick things up.

Finally our lunch was ready.

Lunch was a tomato, a piece of cheese and various incarnations of potato. Although very tasty, somehow we were more hungry after eating than before.

After lunch, we climbed up a hill called pachmama (mother nature) to see some pre-Incan ruins. When we arrived at the top, we could take a walk around the ruins 7 times to bring us luck. And as luck would have it by the time we were done, we could watch a beautiful sunset.

That night we were in for a big surprise. Our mum came up to our room with a big bag overflowing with traditional clothes for us to wear. She dressed TZ in layers upon layers of big colourful skirts, a white shirt, a belt and the customary black scarf. Jez was dressed more simply in a poncho. And finally to top it off, some interesting beanies - which we later bought for some extortionate amount.

We walked silently and quickly in the cold night towards the dance hall. When we arrived we had a quick photo shoot.

And then the festivities began. Panpipe music was played and our mums grabbed us and showed us some moves. It occurred to us that this kind of dancing was very similar to Israeli dancing. Big circles of people moving round and round the floor. People stepping on each others' feet. Never certain of when the circle will change direction or close in on itself. Click to see a video of TZ and our mum dancing.

The following day, we visited the Island of Taquile. This island was used as a prison when Peru was a Spanish Colony. Now this curiously dog-free island is inhabited by 3000 Taquiles.

The Taquiles have a very interesting society. You can distinguish their status by the clothes they wear. Leaders wear black chullos (caps). Married men wear red ones and single men wear red and white ones. Women's status by contrast can be distinguished by the size of the pom poms on their skirts.
And now for a test: is this guy married, single or a leader?

There are 3 rules which govern the community. No lying, no cheating and don't be lazy. TZ wondered about these rules. She was concerned that there was no mention of murder or rape in the 3 commandments but on reflection perhaps there is sense behind it. Maybe the rules they have apply to transgressions which humans are more likely commit on a daily basis. Perhaps by focusing on these sins, a more honest society can be cultivated.

Sadly, we did not have time to see more of the islands in a less touristy fashion. Now fully acclimatised to the altitude, we could enjoy a few days in Cuzco before embarking on a pilgrimage to Machu Picchu - our final destination in South America.

While you wait for the next blog, we will leave you with this video of some naughty dogs we filmed from our hotel window.

Colca Canyon

2008-05-20T16:32:00.000+01:00

We thought we had fully exhausted the list of interesting things to do in Arequipa until we were told about The Canyon. What canyon? We had the choice of the two deepest canyons in the world. Well lets go then! Could we go by ourselves or did we need a guide? Most tourists go with a guide. Most...but not all. Not the JeTZ.

We arrived in Cabanaconde, the town at the edge of the canyon and were swamped by Peruvians offering us cheap accommodation. We took the first one we saw and in the morning we headed for the canyon.

Actually we didn't know the way, but after we took this photo of TZ and the dog under the bench in the town square, the dog set off and seemed to be encouraging us to follow him.

After about half an hour we began to wonder if the dog was in fact taking us to the canyon, as we had not begun our descent yet. Fortunately a little Peruvian girl pointed us in the right direction. It seems that the dog had been taking a scenic route!
So we turned tail (or at least the dog did) and began to follow her instructions. At this point we realised that we were staking the success of our whole trip to Colca Canyon on the advice of an 8 year old girl. However, after having taken a dog as a tour guide this was probably a step up in reliability. So with our chastised dog in tow we began the descent of Colca.

Click on the video below to hear our plans.

A short way into the trek we met a donkey herder. I confirmed with him that we were on the right path and then he said he had a question for me. What is this? He pulled out a tampon, the packaging, and its applicator. With my limited Spanish I didn't really know how best to respond, so I just said, "that is something for women. Women stuff. You understand?". I dont think he did understand because he just kept playing with the applicator and pulling apart the tampon and looking at the mess with a quizzical and naive expression. When TZ caught up and found this gnarly old donkey herder playing with a half deconstructed tampon kit, she froze in shock. We quickly left the donkey herder behind and continued our descent into the canyon.
If you look closely at the photo below, you can see the zigzag path we followed down.

Meanwhile, our faithful guide, the stray dog somehow disappeared. There was only a single track, so we weren't sure if he went ahead or returned to the town. After about 4 hours we arrived at a bridge where we paid the park entrance fee and were approached by a Peruvian women. She asked if we wanted lunch in San Juan de Chucco - where we were heading.

Expecting San Juan to be a town we said "no thanks, we will decide when we arrive". However it turns out that San Juan was not a town, but a handful of little posadas (guesthouses). These places were about as authentic as you can imagine.

We have seen all manner of tourist places on our travels, and by now we can spot a local who is pretending to have a traditional lifestyle to attract tourists, and an indigenous person with a side business for tourism. These places were definitely the latter. We lunched at one place with magnificent views and lamented the fact that we had a bus ticket out of town the following day and hence could not afford a second night in the valley.

Our Peruvian hostess suggested that we use the telephone. There are telephones in the canyon? We couldn't believe our luck! We would have to walk to Gloria's posada about 20 minutes away and use her phone. In the end, we managed to shift the date of our accommodation in Arequipa. However, we had no luck contacting the bus company back at the top of the canyon in the town of Cobanaconde.
This was too good an opportunity to miss. So we decided to throw caution to the wind and extend our trip in the canyon for another night.
To see the risk we were taking on not getting a seat on the bus, click below to get a feel for the cramp conditions on these local buses.

Meanwhile, back at the posada of Gloria, we were stunned to make another discovery. Our guide, the dog from Cabanaconde was waiting for us there. We couldn't believe it was the same dog. Did he really walk for hours into the canyon and did he know his way back? I asked Gloria if it was her dog and she said "no, he was from Cabanaconde and had followed some tourists down". Yep, that was us alright! Anyway our furry friend was happy in the canyon, as he had found somebody else to take care of, a 3 week old puppy.

Back at Posada de Roy, our hostess told us that she had 5 children. We couldn't believe it, as she looked far too young. She told us that she had her first child at the age of 15. Apparently she had lived with her grandmother in a town. Her grandmother ruled with an iron fist. She was never allowed to socialise or leave the house except to go to school. One night her grandmother was away, so our rebellious hostess had a party where she met her husband. She fell pregnant and moved to the canyon from where her husband comes. Since then her life has been hard, but good. If you are going to be poor in Peru, it is much better to live in the beautiful countryside in a subsistence manner, than in the slums on the edges of large cities.

On hearing how we could not change our bus ticket in order to stay another night, our hostess suggested we write a note. She told us to say that TZ was too sick to ascend and that we would need to spend another night in the canyon. We could then wait for a passerby ascending the canyon and ask them to take the note to the bus company in Cabanaconde. After writing the note, we relaxed on the lawn, read a book, and waited for somebody to pass through. It was late in the afternoon and we didn't rate our chances. I spotted a couple of gringos, but unfortunately they turned out to be French backpackers, and by definition, unhelpful pratts.
The next person to pass by our posada was a mule herder. The Peruvian was far more helpful and agreed that when he arrived in Cabanaconde he would pass on the note. He wished my wife to feel better and continued on his way.

That night we were treated to our hostess's hospitality and stayed in a lovely adobe hut. Unfortunately, at the last minute another couple arrived. They turned out to be French too and were in the adjoining room. Our shared wall only went 3/4 of the way to the straw ceiling. The partition was completed with bamboo. This meant that we were subjected to the unretarded sound and smell of French flatulence as we tried to go to sleep. In case you are interested it smells like frog legs.
That night the French were particularly noisy. First we tried to sing Waltzing Matilda in the vain hope that the Frenchies would hear us, realise how clearly we could hear them, and shut up. No such luck. Luckily TZ remembers enough of her French to fill me in with the correct phrases from time to time. After shouting tet toi (shut up) they finally got the point and we had a wonderful sleep.

The following day started with a beautiful view of dawn in the canyon and lovely breakfast. Good news had arrived for us. Our hostess had heard that morning from another mule herder passing by that our note had been delivered and our bus tickets changed at no charge. As you can imagine we were more than impressed. How often does it take forever to get a response to your emails? Here we were sending notes in poor Spanish by donkey, and getting rapid responses and positive results.

Regretfully we said goodbye and headed to Oasis, a 3hr hike away. Along the way we saw many beautiful villages. In one we stopped to eat the fruits of a cactus. One is sweet and the other is like a kiwi fruit with a strong citrus kick.

When we arrived at Oasis, we had an important decision to make. Would we sleep overnight and get up at 3am to climb back to the top of the canyon in time to catch the bus to the condors? Or would we push on and sleep in Cabanaconde at the top of the canyon. We mulled over our decision at lunch.

Then continued to mull over it by their pool, which was constantly refreshed with flowing water from the river.

While enjoying the pool, we met some Peruvian kids who had come down the canyon for a weekend swim and would return the same day in order to go to school. We were thoroughly blown away by the differences in our lifestyle. These kids were so independent. A boy and a girl, neither older than 10, who would go by themselves to the bottom of a canyon and back in one day. Inspired by their fitness, we decided to push on to Cabanaconde that afternoon. Unfortunately we weren't half as fit as the kids. Moreover, because of the altitude we struggled to ascend in the predicted 3 hrs.

By the time we reached the top, it was dark and there was nobody around. Although it was hot in the sun and we were covered in sweat, dusk had now arrived and the weather had turned bitterly cold. So now we were freezing and lost!
Previously we had been following signs like this one below. But the signs were all of a sudden strangely non-existent.

Luckily the lights of the town were visible from the top of the canyon, but unfortunately none of the paths seemed to lead us there. Where was our trusty canine? After fumbling about for ages we become a little hysterical. Finally we decided to forget looking for a path and head straight for town, across the fields. Easier said than done. The field were like terraced rice paddies. We had to climb and crawl across all sorts of barriers and streams until we finally arrived at the outskirts of town.
The following morning we saw the landscape we had traversed. Note the dark high ridges delineating the farms...we had climbed over those in the middle of the pitch black night!

When we reached the main plaza, we checked into the first hotel we found. More important than anything was that hot water was available. We were assured it was. Freezing and dirty I stripped off and jumped in the shower. The discovery that there was no hot water hit me with such force that all the demands of the day suddenly overwhelmed me.
I got dressed again and returned to reception and in my wonderful Spanish said "no estoy feliz!" I'm not happy! The manager promised us there would be hot water in 20 minutes but that two ladies had just now finished showering. What tosh! We left and went to our hostel from our first night in Cabanaconde. We showered and collapsed in bed, delighted to finally be warm and safe!
The next morning we rose very early to catch the bus to Cruz del Condor. Here people gather to see a most spectacular sight. Between about 8am and 10am, as the hot air rises, you can watch condors circling in the canyon. They are such beautiful, graceful creatures. If it wasnt for all the gringos and their telephoto lenses it would be a wonderfully serene experience.

Finally we headed back on a 6 hour bus ride to our comfortable 'home' in Arequipa, the Dutch operated hostel. Here we would spoil ourselves with inhouse DVDs and delivered pizza!

Arequipa

2008-05-19T11:35:00.000+01:00

On arrival in Arequipa's bus station we were met by the owner of our hostel - an organised, efficient and slightly paranoid Dutch woman. Mostly this was a welcome surprise. That is until she hailed a taxi for us and hopped in with us. Where was her car? How did she get here?
Apparently there had been a few cases of tourists taking unauthorised taxis only to be robbed or assaulted. She was here to ensure the taxi took us straight to our hostel. One look at her authoritarian disposition and no one would have messed with her!

First order of the day was lunch. TZ went out on a mission to find sandwiches. This was indeed a mission. When a take away place calls itself vegetarian but then only serves hamburgers (yes with meat!), this naturally calls into question the veracity of everything else in the store.
So, after settling our stomachs with less than satisfactory food, we asked our Dutch hostess what there was to do in this town. She said, "get thee to a nunnery."
The 425 year old Convent of Santa Catalina is opulent and colourful. Two adjectives you would not normally use to describe a convent. Below you can see murals on the walls. As the women were illiterate, they had to learn their bible studies from pictures.

The convent was founded by a rich nun and only accepted members from high class Spanish families. At the time, if you were a second daughter then you were automatically sent to a convent. The girls who were lucky enough to come to Santa Catalina did not go kicking and screaming. They lived a lavish lifestyle with up to 4 servants. Most had their own rooms - and not the traditional Spartan style either. Many had beautiful paintings, statues and silk curtains.

Apart from the unusually rich lifestyle led by the nuns, many unholy rumours started to emerge from the behind the cloister walls. Our guide hinted at the fact that some of the nuns were a little boy crazy insisting on a doctor coming to visit them for any minor ache. Some women were even found to be pregnant and no one bought the immaculate conception story. It was only a matter of time before reforms had to be introduced. In 1871 Pope Pius IX sent a strict nun to free the servants if they wished to go and move the women into communal rooms.
Below you can see some of the colourful and beautiful alleys.

There was one place in the convent that nuns were not allowed to go. They were denied access to views of the outside world and so the rooftop was out of bounds. Only servants (and now tourists) could admire the city of Arequipa from up here.

Today there are around 20 nuns who live here. Although not living in the same style as their predecessors, they still reap the benefits of dwelling inside such a magnificent and highly decorated convent.
Below is the clothes washing area. A constant stream of clean water could be stopped and redirected into the basin as needed.

Meet Juanita. She lives in a temperature controlled glass cabinet in Museo Santuarios Andinos. Juanita or the Ice Maiden as she is sometimes called, is an Incan mummy. At the age of 13 she embarked on a long and difficult journey up to the top of Ampato volcano accompanied by Incan priests. When she reached the top, she was intoxicated and given a sharp blow to her head. She was buried as a sacrifice to appease the gods. She lay buried under snow for 550 years and was discovered only 18 years ago. Of course taking photos of her is prohibited so here is one we found on the net.

When we weren't engrossed in fascinating history lessons, we caught up with friends we met in the Amazon. South America was much smaller than we thought. It was not the first time we bumped into fellow travellers again. John and Finola shared a million hectors of pristine Amazon with us and when we discovered they were also in Arequipa, we toasted a round of pisco sours to coincidences and more interesting travels stories...

Lima

2008-05-16T19:01:00.000+01:00

From Mexico, we flew to Peru for our final adventures in South America. We spent a few days in Lima enjoying its spoils and working out the most interesting route to get to Cuzco for the culmination of our trip: a 5 day trek on the Inca Trail to see Machu Picchu.
Lima itself it a beautiful and wealthy city. The part we stayed in was exceptionally pretty and only a few minute walk to the ocean. To our surprise, an enormous amount of effort had been put into the parks along the water front.
One thing we did not expect to see was a tribute to former Prime Minister of Israel, Yitzhak Rabin.

And then suddenly we were transported back to Barcelona with this Gaudi inspired park.

We came across these fury creatures making a racket. The beagle and golden retriever were not impressed with this cat who kept its owner on a tight leash.

We were also surprised to learn that Lima has a Spanish Inquisition museum. This is odd considering Spain does not even have one! But Peru was the first country in South America to have the Inquisition imposed upon it making it an apt place for the museum.
Below is the courtroom where members of the Inquisition tribunal met. There is a secret door which allowed witnesses to testify in secret about those suspected of holding heretical beliefs.

Heretics were dressed Ku Klux Klan style and then paraded around Lima on a white horse to shame them. You can also see behind this model the seal of the Spanish Inquisition: The Branch, Cross and Sword.

After a sobering trip to the torture chamber we went for lunch at a nearby cafe. We were lured in by the unexpected prospect of an Israeli breakfast - in our collective opinion, these are the best breakfasts in the world! But our excitement turned to bewilderment as we took a closer look at the menu: coffee with milk or tea, orange juice, 2 x French toast and avocado. Nothing could be further away from a true Israeli Breakfast...

One evening the manager of our hostel took us all to the magical fountain park. There were about 15 different kinds of fountains including the world tallest fountain. We stayed for a music and light show, had dinner and then had THE best pisco sour ever. The hostel manager was a pro and bought the ingredients on the way back to our hostel.
Pisco sour is Peru's national drink but Chile also claims this to be its national drink. Peruvians actually have a town called Pisco so this should have been the end of the dispute. But some feuds are worth fighting for. So Chile named a town Pisco too in the hope this would nullify Peru's claim.

We decided to head to Arequipa based purely on its proximity to Lake Titicaca and not because we had the first clue as to what was there. Suffice to say we were pleasantly surprised...

Havana, Cuba

2008-05-10T10:06:00.000+01:00

We fondly recall the day we flew to Cuba. It was a day of waiting 6 hours in the airport for the delayed Cubana airplane. They had not notified us of the delay and when we queried this they made no apologies. When we asked for a reason as to why the plane had been delayed we were told "because the plane is not here..."
This was a nice start to our journey. The insanity continued when we arrived at our hotel. When asked if we could get some kind of discount if we stayed longer the clerk said "you need to know that EVERYTHING is owned by the government. It is not possible to reduce the rate."

Well we didn't stay on at that hotel. Instead we moved to a casa particulare, a bed and breakfast 'owned' by an affable and knowledge- thirsty Cuban (if you come with foreign magazines, he will not let you leave unless you hand them over to him.) As we now knew, everything was owned by the government so how could he own a bed and breakfast?
After the Revolution, his family house was taken over by the state. Many years after paying 'rent' to the government for their house, it was finally back in the hands of the family. However, the house could never be sold only handed down to the children. He was allowed to run a bed and breakfast but he was restricted to 2 rooms only. He was not allowed to hire any staff. Oh and one more thing: He has to dob in guests coming from certain suspicious countries to a special government hotline. Australians are luckily not on the list. Or so he told us...
"...The moral of the Revolution is so high like the stars." Fidel

As expected, there were plenty of old American cars on the road and all of them were taxis.

Although some were in better conditions than others...

We walked to the conveniently located Havana Club rum factory and took a tour.

After the tour, we enjoyed a glass or two of 7 Year Old Havana Club drunk neat.

One night we decided to check out the so-called "Parisian" style cabaret.
Having seen a real Parisian cabaret, we can safely say this was nothing like it but very entertaining nonetheless.

This photo was taken from the Museo de la Revolucion. On entering, the visitor is reminded of Fidel's top 3 most disliked people who have been placed as cartoons in the 'Cretin's Corner'. Ronald Reagan sits between George Bush and Fulgencio Batista.

We were interested to hear Fidel's take on the history of the Revolution. Unfortunately, it was quite hard to find the propaganda amongst the disjointed and at times incoherent information signs.
There were however a few notable quotables, giving some indication of the paranoia of the regime:
"CIA agents spread the so-called 'blue moss' in our tobacco plantations."
"A bacteriologic aggression of the CIA introduced to our country the virus of dengue and breakbone fever..."
"..between 1971 and 1980, CIA agents introduce in Cuba the pigs fever virus and more than a million animals died.."
Parked in front of the museum is the Russian tank Fidel used during the Bay of Pigs invasion.

The synagogue in Havana was not exempt from being taken over by the state after the Revolution. Two-thirds of the building was even turned into a theatre. In recent years the remaining portion of the building was reconstructed as a synagogue using donations from the USA. Short memories have allowed Fidel to claim freedom of worship in Cuba, and even to pose for a photo shoot on Chanukah.

Once housing the Cuban Congress, the Capitolio Nacional is a highly decorated building that is a must see on any tourists agenda. We arrived there ready to take some kind of guided tour only to be told they did not have any. Nor was their any information in the building itself. But we can tell you this. Under the dome lies an imitation 24-carat diamond set into the marble floor, from where highway distances between Havana and other sites in Cuba are measured. The original diamond was stolen in 1946 and mysteriously returned to the president.

In the entrance, this gold statue wins the award for the third tallest statue under a roof. Cuba must be very proud!

While wondering around aimlessly, a woman who worked in the building came up to us and offered to take us into a secret place - the president's office and chamber of senate. She made it seem like no one was allowed in these areas but after a while we were on to her. She wanted a tip. Like every other Cuban we had met, this was her side-business...

One of the proudest achievements of the post-revolution government was its provision of housing for the people. Here you can see one of the thousands of apartment complexes seen around Havana built to eliminate the slum conditions many Cubans were living in. That said, they are not particularly structurally sound causing many tragic accidents.

Pre revolution, many houses looked like this. Of course after more than 50 years they get a bit shabby. Now many are being done up so tourists like us can marvel at the beautiful architecture of days gone by.

Our trip to the beach in Havana was a bit unusual. We were familiar with the fruit sellers and women in thong bikinis from our time in Brazil.

We were familiar with listening to live music on the beach.

But we were not familiar with the sight of cops on the beach let alone a bunch of them just standing around with nothing to do.

Meanwhile, Jez got to sample a Cuban specialty: rum-filled coconut.

Naturally we could not leave Cuba without a visit to the Cigar factory. The cigars are all hand-made.It is true that the leaves are rolled on thighs but not that of virgins and not necessarily of women. Jez noticed a man smoothing tobacco leaves on his thigh. Our guide quickly explained that those leaves would be used in thinner cigars only to be smoked with cappuccinos.
The cigar making process is highly specialised right down to the person whose job it is to sort the cigars by colour. Europeans like their cigars lighter in colour than Americans so they are separated and boxed accordingly.

After our trip to the factory we bought a single Bolivar. We considered buying a big box but our backpacker budget was a little too tight. Instead we bought off the street from a dodgy-looking Cuban. Normally we don't do business with bling-sporting chumps we had already been given the low down. Basically the rule is: if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it's a fricken duck.
Our man in Havana took us back to his apartment where his mate was ready to go. An assortment of boxes appeared from nowhere and were piled high on the kitchen table. Cigars were removed from their boxes complete with stickers and documentation. In front of us they were rolled to show us that the leaves would not fall out - a tell tale sign when high quality Cuban tobacco has been substituted by dried banana leaf.
We sniffed and held them up to the light (we did this for no good reason). Our cigars were quacking and walking like the real thing. We walked away with a fine set of cigars, 25 Cohibas. Unfortunately we don't normally backpack with humidors and so gave them away as a gift.

Mexico: Yucutan Peninsular

2008-05-04T18:33:00.001+01:00

Between 600 and 1250A.D Chichen Itza city was the centre of political control for the Yucutan Peninsular in Mexico. Here the Mayans lived and built amazing pyramids - primarily as astrological guides so the farmers knew when to reap and when to sow depending on the shadows cast by the pyramids. None of this was particularly original, most pyramids we had seen in Mexico had been built in this way. However, there was a most interesting feature about this particular pyramid.

On the day of the solstice the sun's rays would strike one side of the pyramid. As the corner is stepped, only intermittent rays would make it through. On the other side of the pyramid, where the rays had made it through, a shadow in the form of a snake would form and give the appearance it was descending down the stairs of the pyramid. In this photo, you can see the jagged right side and imagine how the sun could cast a snake-like shadow down the side of the steps in the middle. The snake's decent would indicate the start of the harvesting season.

During times of droughts, the Mayans believed that their gods were unhappy with them. To find favour in their eyes again, they believed they would need to sacrifice someone. But who? A virgin? A child? No, the winner of a basketball game.
Below, to the left is a giant court. To the right is the ring. The rules are slightly different to modern day rules of basketball. For a start, you cannot use your hands to throw only your hips and shoulders. The scoring is simple. First person to score is the 'winner'. Naturally, to actually score a goal in this insanely difficult game would require a person of incredible skill and agility. A person most suitable for sacrifice!

Considering the mammoth size of this court, it is interesting to note that the acoustics are incredible. Priests used to sit on one side and nobility on the other. They could communicate across the court perfectly well without yelling at each other. Further, if you stand below the basketball ring and clap your hands once, the clap echoes back 7 times - a deliberate acoustic effect as 7 is a spiritually lucky number. If you are wondering how the rules of the game are known, the answer is found in the pictorial demonstrations carved into the walls of the court. See 7 snakes spurting from the decapitated victor!

We also visited a couple of other pyramid sites. It was little more of the same but we managed to get into the spirit of things. In Kabah Jez re-enacts the public announcement of the upcoming sacrificial victim...

We had almost seen enough pyramids when we made our way to the romantic coastal town of Playa de Carmen - Cancun's less touristy and in our opinion, more beautiful neighbour. Here we chilled for a couple of days in a beautiful bed and breakfast. It was by far the most luxurious accommodation we had stayed in whilst travelling South America. Most hostels don't provide you with towels let alone perform origami on them!

We also treated ourselves to a fancy dinner at the highly recommended Blue Parrot hotel. Our Mexican friend Memo insisted we stay there but on our backpacking budget we opted to sample their menu instead. Look at us all dressed up, we barely recognise ourselves!

Did we mention that we actually ate in a tree house within the restaurant?

After spoiling ourselves rotten, we changed accommodation type completely swapping our beautiful B&B for a tent on the beach. We had bussed to the stinking hot coastal town of Tulum a few hours away to see more pyramids. This time though the pyramids were situated right on the beach. However this was not actually our prime reason for being here...we had something a lot more interesting in mind...

As it turned out, even sleeping in tents would prove hard as the nights were just as hot as the days. Luckily we had other options. Our campsite included a colourful array of hammocks to rest in.

Some mornings, we would wake up to find a visitor had broken into our tent. Quite a task when you consider she had to make her way through a zipped tent and then into our 'room'. The tent had a zipped up plastic wall in the middle!

Although we lived a simple life on the beach, things could also be a little tricky - such as the issue of how to flush the toilet.

Note that the same hose pipe was used to shower, as well as wash our food and clean the dishes. This is Ernesto. He helped out in the campsite and often washed our dishes for us in exchange for a couple of hotdogs.

He also has a penchant for freckled red-heads...so any ladies fitting that description and interested in this Mexican beach bum please let us know and we can pass on your details.

The manager of the campsite, Jorge, also moonlighted as a dive instructor. This was very useful for us as we had come to Tulum to dive in the cenotes (underground rivers). Underneath his treehouse, where he lived with his girlfriend and new baby, he had his dive shop.

To reach the cenotes involved travelling into the forest where we would prepare ourselves for the dive. We would get dressed into our double layered wetsuits, put our tanks on our backs, our weights on our hips and then walk a few minutes into the forest until we reached a sight to behold: the spectacular blue water that would hold secrets known only to divers.

The Grande Cenote was the first of our dives. It is not officially a cave but sure looked like one, complete with stalactites and stalagmites.

After that relaxing dive we drove to the Temple of Doom. It was here we would see and experience the natural phenomena of the halocline. This is where fresh river water sits on top of sea water creating a mirror effect when you look down at the interface. As you make your way through the halocline, the water looks like an oil emulsion, a trick for new players that can cause severe disorientation!
Once we graduated from halocline school, we could move onto advanced halocline dives. This was something altogether different. This time we dived a 40m sink hole, with a hydrogen sulphide cloud at 20m separating the fresh and salt water. To dive through the cloud involves a little blind faith as there is no visibility within the cloud. To add to the excitement this was TZs first deep dive.This is a photo of the cloud from the internet, unfortunately we were not so lucky this time as to have our own photographer.

At some points from above the cloud we felt more like astronauts than divers. Only the eerie protrusions of dead trees reminded us that this was a sink hole in the jungle!

We just felt our way down a piece of string to guide us down. When we reached the sea water, it was pitch black so we had to use our torches. We could see trees in the water! It looked as if we were in a forest at night with fish swimming through branches.

Click the movie below to hear our instructor brief us.

Here Jorge warns us about the resident caiman. As you know we have some experience with caimans but swimming with them is something altogether different. Actually we didnt believe Jorge about the caiman until we had completed the dive and surfaced, to find the reptile sunning itself on a floating log only meters from our bobbing heads!

The last cenote we dived was called Car Wash as it used to be the place where taxi drivers would clean their cars. Thankfully it has been a while since then and the water has returned to pristine condition. We particularly liked this instruction panel, enlarge it to see properly. On the left side you can see the right way to dive. On the left side you can see that if you dont follow the instructions, you will die.

As you can see, Jez made it out in one piece.

Having spent so much time under the water, we had almost forgotten how hot it was outside. The day we went to Tulum ruins on the beach we were torn between wanting to swim and wanting to see the ruins.

After a quick lap of the ruins, we could not stand it any longer. We stripped down to our underwear and jumped into the ocean. As we emerged we saw this fellow sunning himself...

...which Jez found inspirational.

The following day we would take a flight to Cuba. Here we would discover the smoothness of 7 Year Old Havana Club drunk neat and the beauty of fresh Cuban cigars.

Mexico City

2008-04-24T09:44:00.000+01:00

Back in 2006 when Jez began to work in London he met another new starter, a Mexican called Memo, who quickly became his best new friend in the UK. Poor unsuspecting Memo had no idea that a year and a half later the JeTZ would be sleeping in his bedroom in Mexico City whilst he spent a week on the couch!

And so when Memo invited us to come and spend some time in Mexico with him and his family, we agreed to take a detour from our South American adventure. But the JeTZ landed a day before Memo arrived from London causing us a small amount of anxiety. Memo's parents had kindly offered to meet us at the airport but they didn't speak a word of English and we had forgotten to ask Memo for their names!
All our anxieties disappeared as soon as we met them when we received the warmest welcome in the history of our travels.
We broke the ice with a befuddling name exchange dialogue. Lulu is Memo's mother, that was easy enough. However, Memo's dad's name is also Memo. Of course, it would be confusing to distinguish Memo from Memo so we assigned the adjectives grande and chico. It turns out that not only is Memo's father called Memo, but his grandfather is Memo too. At least Memo wont have to think too hard about what to call his son!

Our warm welcome continued the following day when Memo Grande and Lulu took us to the canals in Xochimilco for a boat ride. Lulu even serenaded us to complete the experience! A word about Xochimilco. This is the barrio (suburb) where Memo's family lives and they are so proud of it that if you ask them where they live, they wont say Mexico city, they will say Xochimilco. We cannot say we would do the same for Dianella...

Next we visited part of the 1968 Olympic complex and then we went to the markets to prepare for the evening's festivities that would commence on Memo Chico's arrival from London.
We decided to impart a secret recipe we had learnt literally minutes before leaving Brazil: caipirinha. Although a relatively simple cocktail certain aspects need to be spot on. Having found the exact type of cachaça (of which there are hundreds!), the exact lemon (the one that looks like a lime) and the correct sugar (most will do actually) we needed a whole lotta crushed ice. In Mexico, generosity is the name of the game. You want ice? No problem. If you can find a way of transporting the mini iceberg its all yours.

There were certain traditions in our new family's house that we had not yet learnt. Firstly, partying is not just for the kids. Memo Grande and Lulu where every bit involved in our festivities until the very wee hours of the morning - including the 2am feast which Lulu prepared for us when she noticed a distinct lack of eating.

Another tradition we did not know of was that after 'Happy Birthday' is sung, the crowd starts chanting for the birthday boy or girl to smash his head into the cake. Memo Chico did not actually need that much encouragement. Although the cake ended up tasting like Memo's snot it was still delicious.

The only tradition we did know of was the piñada.

And when the piñada is well and truly smashed to smithereens, the hero gets to wear the piñada head as a trophy.

At 5am, Memo Grande, Memo Chico and the JeTZ were the last ones standing. With a quick calculation we worked out that Memo Grande had been awake for nearly 24 hours and had only had 2 hours sleep the night before. And if that was not bad enough he would only get another two hours of sleep before getting up to take Fatima, Memo's sister to university. His response was simple. His love for his children was so great it provided all the energy he needed to stay up late and get up early for them.

The next day Memo Chico took us to the centre of Mexico City. Traffic here is insane - and not only in peak hours. It took us 3 hours to get there when it should have taken only half an hour. We suddenly understood why Memo's family said that they came from Xochimilco. With such hideous traffic, they hardly venture out of their barrio!
Below is a representation of the legend of Mexico City. In the place where the Aztecs saw a colourful bird called the quetzal devouring a snake they were to found a temple, and so the capital of their empire was born.

Of course, we didnt just visit the historic and tourist sites with Memo. He also took us out to enjoy ourselves in the bars of Mexico City.

Mexicans really do love their tequila, and unlike in Australia, there are more ways to drink it than "lick, sip, suck". In fact, the margarita is very common. While TZ tried a regular for her first margarita Jez ordered a strawberry flavoured one. Memo and TZ assumed that this was some sort of error in translation, but when he continued to order strawberry they were left with no doubt to his intentions! Luckily Jez was able to recoup some of his lost machismo by having this photo taken with lots of spicy sauces!

We ventured out of Mexico City for a trip to the ruins of Teotihuaca with our friend Sarai. The Teotihuacans were great mathematicians and astronomers. The orientation of the city grid is in exact alignment with true north. Every aspect of the construction of the pyramids has celestial significance and a connection to the agricultural calendar.

The Teotichuacans were a religious group of people who worshiped celestial objects. The wheel was a forbidden object, as its representation was thought to mock the deity of the sun. With no wheeled transport and no domesticated animals, all the building materials needed were transported on their backs. It is no wonder it took some 200 years to construct these impressive pyramids.
The main avenue in their city is called the street of the dead and flanked by the 'Moon' and the 'Sun' pyramids.

We ascended the Sun Pyramid.

Click to hear Jez's expectations upon reaching the summit.

Here our guide explains that the people had 3 calendars which corresponded with the cycle of the sun, the moon and Venus. Every 52 years when their calendar of Venus and of the sun matched up again, they would start to panic. If they had failed to appease the gods, perhaps the sun would not rise the next day. For 5 days straight leading up to the big day, they would vigorously pray. If the sun did rise, they would take all their possessions and stack them over a pyramid. A new pyramid would be built on top. This was a super way to kick start their economy as they would have to renew all their possessions.

One day, Memo Grande drove us out to the remote town of Tepoztlan. We left early in the morning and stopped off for breakfast at a little outside 'restaurant' for a bite. Breakfast was a little unusual. In Mexico, cactus is abundant and comes in a multitude of varieties. Below to the left is the Prickly Pear tree. From it they make nopali and it makes for a tasty topping in a quesadillas. Here we had our first taste.

We walked a little around town and visited an old church.

We also sampled some very unusual icecream flavours such as nopali, cheese and tequila. It was a bold move by TZ for once in her life to order an icecream flavour other than chocolate.

But then it was time to burn off our icecreams with a climb up this hill. At the top would be some pyramid ruins and a few other surprises...

On the way up, we learnt a plethora of Spanish swear words as the climb was pretty steep.

When we reached the top we could feel the promised magnetic healing powers of the mountain. Instantly we felt rejuvenated! But before running up the final flight of stairs to the top, we came across this cult practicing some strange rituals.

On our last day in Mexico City we visited the Natural History Museum which holds the largest collection of pre-Columbian artifacts in the world.
Below is the sun stone. Originally it was thought that this was some kind of Aztec calendar. But actually, the stone has a more sinister function. It is a large sacrificial alter. If you look closely you can see the face of an Aztec god Xiuhtecuhtli (no we did not just throw a bunch of strange letters together, this was his name!) emerging from the middle holding a pair of human hearts and showing his tongue transformed into a sacrificial knife.

There were a few other interesting looking artifacts in the museum but not everything had an explanation. We we can only guess at the significance of these painful looking statues.

Every day we spent in Xochimilco we would hear fireworks. On nearly every occasion it was for the same reason - a celebration for baby Jesus. That said, the locals seemed to be in a permanent state of celebration. If they were not celebrating baby Jesus, they were celebrating other important days: Mother's day, Father's day, Doctor's day, the day of the dead...but we were lucky enough to be there on the dia de los ninos, day of the children.
To celebrate, children exchanged their regular classes for a day of fun activities. Memo Grande had been asked by a nearby school if he would come and entertain the children with a magic show.

Memo Grande is a highly accomplished magician with a remarkable slight of hand. And the most amazing part of all is that he was willing to impart his tricks to us! That said, his tricks were so amazing we did not want to know how they were done for fear of losing our feeling of wonder.

He captivated us as much as the children who sat wide eyed and begging for more.

The warmth of Mexicans is virtually unparalleled and we started to understand why. We noticed that unlike most school children we have ever met, Mexican children are extremely affectionate and grow up to become affectionate adults. We could never imagine a situation in Australia or England where it would be ok for the children to kiss strangers like us hello or goodbye or where the children could openly play kissing games in class in front of the teacher.

After an amazing week in Mexico City, we would say a teary goodbye to our new family in Xochimilco and head to the Yucutan Peninsular for more adventures...

Amazon

2008-04-13T19:16:00.000+01:00

A thousand miles from the mouth of the Amazon and a thousand miles from its source in the Andes, Mamiraua Reserve is a million hectares of pristine forest. But this is no ordinary forest. For a start, in the wet season the rainfall is so high that the rivers burst and overflow into the forest. Trees are submerged in about 12 meters of water which raises an interesting question, where does all the terrestrial wildlife go?

To find out, we would have to take daily canoe trips into the forest. This required a lot of preparation. First of all, mosquito repellant must be applied to all parts of the body. But not your garden variety repellant. It must contain a not so healthy portion of 'Deet' which does an almost fantastic job of keep the bloodsuckers away. Because Deet is not fool proof, you also need to be clothed from head to toe (something Jez is not accustomed to).
We found out the hard way that the mosquitoes here are so aggressive, they bite straight through clothes! So despite being fully clothed and heavily coated with Deet we still got bitten. But note how our guide's idea of protective gear involved wearing just t-shirt, shorts and thongs...

Mamiraua is special for another reason. It is endemic to an exotic and endangered monkey called the White Uakari. As its name suggests it is white with very long fur and a bright red face. The locals nicknamed the monkey 'Englishman' for obvious reason but the bright red face, although quite similar to a sun burnt Pom really does look more similar to a baboons butt.
Anyway, they used to be captured and sold or killed for meat. This no longer happens but it seems that the uakari has not forgotten its checkered past. They are incredibly difficult to spot and are very shy.
So before entering the forest by canoe, we had to take a vow of silence (something TZ is not accustomed to) so as not to scare them or the other wildlife away.

We were quite sure our guide had x-ray vision because when he stopped the canoe and pointed up into the tree mouthing uakari we could see jack sh..
We squinted and craned our necks, took hundreds of photos of little blurry moving red and white dots up in the canopies but in the end it was hard to claim we actually SAW anything.

The ring tailed coati on the other hand is easier to spot. They are noisy and travel in packs.

Our home for the next few days would be a floating lodge. In the drier season the lodge is on the edge of a lake, but in the wet season it becomes an island accessible only by boat. The lodges can hold up to 20 people but we were incredibly lucky as when we arrived there was only one other couple. It felt like we had all one million hectares of Mamiraua to ourselves!

Naturally indemnity forms had to filled out but we signed without hesitation as we felt pretty confident we were in safe hands...

Except for the day when TZ stepped out of her bedroom and made her way to reception. On return she saw this caiman sunning itself up on the patio blocking her path back to her room!

Thankfully there was no noise ban in the lodge. Click below to find out what happened next...

Although it was the rainy season, it was still incredibly hot and sticky. We had a pool next to our lodge which we had considered safe until we saw how agile the caiman was. Nevertheless, we were concerned that we would not have enough material for the blog and so Jez bravely and gingerly took a dip.

At dinner that night, we asked if the resident caimans had ever attacked a guest. Only once we were told. A Japanese girl decided to lean right over the edge of the river to take a photo of one. Startled, the caiman leapt out of the water and head butted the girl in her stomach, pushing her over.

Each morning we would wake up to a cacophony of sounds from the forest on our doorstep. The most prominent of all was the growl of the howler monkey. They have a big bone at the back of their tongue and when air passes over it, the sound effect is similar to blowing over the opening of a bottle...except it comes out very powerful and very deep.

Curious to see these guys we spent many hours in the canoe trying to track them down. Again we had to be extra quiet. Not so much because we didn't want to scare them away but because when frightened, they release a hideous spray of dung and urine.
Click below to see a video of us silently tracking these noisy creatures. Make sure you have your volume up so you can hear the Howlers at work.

I wish we could say this we took this photo a howler monkey. Thank you to John and Finola for sending this one to us!

Every day our guide would point out one or two sloths. Experts at camouflaging themselves, we found it near impossible to see them even if they weren't high up in the canopy. Sloths are solitary creatures and they move so slowly every movement they do looks like an act of Tai Chi. Even their digestive system is slow, it takes 25 hours just to digest their breakfast! The only time they really move is during their once-a-week visit the "toilet tree".
This variety is called the brown-throated three-toed sloth. These photos are courtesy of our Belgian friend with his kick-arse camera.

One evening, our guide canoed us out into the forest so we could see what it was like to spend the night in the Amazon. We all slept in hammocks in this bird house, beside the 'jaguar tree'.

We wished our guide spoke English or at least Spanish so he could tell us ghost stories but he didn't so we fell asleep to the sounds of the forest. Here is a little video we made when we farewelled our canoe and climbed up the stairs...

This was not our only adventure into the forest at night. We were keen to see some anacondas and tarantulas and this required a night mission. The mosquitoes are even more ferocious at night - or so it seemed - and we decided to up the level of protection to head nets and wet weather gear...

Back in the canoe, we took our vows of silence and headed back into the dark forest. To break the suspense, we did not see any anacondas. To add to the suspense, while waiting to find out what was around the next tree, a sardine jumped into the canoe and landed between TZ's legs. Shrieks and canoe rocking ensued and just when the sardine had been safely returned to the water, a giant tarantula appeared on a tree next to us. Jez had little luck trying to convince TZ that it would not jump from the tree into the canoe...

Speaking of spiders, the following pictures demonstrate the difference between a monkey spider, and a spider monkey.

At night, it is easy to spot caimans as their eyes shine bright yellow in the dark. So even though this baby was hiding under the leaves we could still see him.

We gave our necks a rest from looking up into the trees to focus on what was in the water. Naturally, we were very curious about the piranha. We had two important questions. One: Were they really as dangerous as they are made out in the movies and two: Were they kosher to eat? The second was necessary to know because we were going to catch one for lunch. We had tried to research this weeks before back in Salvador where we met a rabbi. His answer was "well, if it has scales and fins then yes, it is kosher." However, none of us had seen a piranha that close up so we were still in the dark. The rabbi then called another rabbi who lives in Belem, on the mouth of the Amazon. His answer was "well, if it has scales and fins then yes, it is kosher."
To solve the mystery we would need to take a close look at the fish. To catch a piranha is not an exact science. Basically, you need a long stick, some fish wire and a bit of dead fish for bait. The rod is cast into the river. The bait is tapped into the water and within seconds, or minutes if you are unlucky, a piranha will bite. Watch to see Jez complete the task:

Now that we were able to see the fish close up we could confirm that it was indeed kosher!

With a set of teeth like these we had no doubt about its biting capabilities.

Legend has it that should a single woman in one of the communities in Mamiraua suddenly find herself pregnant, it is because the boto paid her a visit. The boto is a pink dolphin found in the Amazon. Apparently he appears at parties dressed in a white suit and top hat and lures young girls to bed. This the locals know for certain. What they don't know is why the dolphin is pink. No one knows for sure but it could be that their blood vessels are very close the surface. That said, when we got our one half-decent photo, we thought pink was a description used very loosely...

The botos are actually a very interesting example of evolution. Originally the pink dolphin lived in the Pacific Ocean. When the Andes rose, some of them were trapped in the rivers of the Amazon. Their new environment meant they would have to manoeuvre around narrow passages between trees, dodge branches and eat fish they were not accustomed to. To do this they would need to change physiologically. And change they did.
The vertebrae in the necks of marine dolphins are fused, to provide the strength required for aerial acrobatics. Botos however can freely move their necks, enabling them to navigate through the flooded forest. Unfortunately this means they cannot leap out of the water like their cousins making it very hard for us to photograph them! They can also reverse thanks to their new fins which can flap backwards, handy for if they are trying to abort a mission into a knot of branches.

There were several animals we were very sorry we didn't see. The jaguar was one of them. Although we did actually spend the night in a birdhouse opposite a tree known to be frequented by jaguars, we never saw one. This is because no one actually knows where jaguars disappear to in the wet season. We know they can climb trees so we could expect to see one up a trunk but no one ever has. A special tracking program is being put into place to solve the mystery but in some ways, it is nicer not to know.
Unfortunately, the only ones we did see were back at the zoo in Manaus. They seemed very unhappy pacing around and making a lot of sad sounding noises but so you can see what a magnificent creature the jaguar is we have included this photo.

When we weren't canoeing out into the forest searching for animals, we spent some time learning about the communities in Mamiraua. The people that we met are not the traditional land owners. They are not people-eating, voodoo-practicing Indians like one might see in the movies. Those communities have strict laws preventing outsiders from visiting. So the people we did meet were the result of a mixture of Indian, Negroes and European stock who have been living in the reserve for the last 60 years or so. Here you can see one of their houses - complete with satellite TV.

We also got to see their school. The textbooks teach them about the animals in the Amazon, how to fish, how to make manioc (a root vegetable) and basic survival skills should they find themselves lost in the forest at night.

Our guide was keen to put a show on for us in his house. His band of three sang songs about Mamiraua and the legends of the Amazon. Over 3 months later, we still have the Mamiraua song stuck in our head. Listen at your own peril...

One evening we were invited to a religious festival at another community. They were celebrating the Holy Ghost in a most unusual way. Twin poles covered in green bananas were erected and and fireworks exploded. In 7 days time, when the bananas would be ripe enough to eat, another ceremony would take place.

After the poles were erected, this strange soup was passed around.

To spice it up a little, a scary-looking chili was offered and Jez was the only one brave enough to devour it whole.

After 'entree' we were invited back to the family of our guide for dinner. Our meal was prepared by candlelight and we sat on the floor in the kitchen.

In the wee hours of the following night, Jez woke up feeling rather nauseous. This was the night we slept in the bird house. When we woke up, Jez gesticulated wildly to our guide indicated he was feeling very ill and wanted to go straight home. Back at the floating lodge Jez was a rather pale shade of green. We were due to leave that day but wisely decided to postpone our stay for another few days. Luckily our over-sized medical kit came in good use and Jez was back in business after 24 hours. His stomach however had shrunk and the toilet was a no-go zone.
We spent the afternoons relaxing in our dual hammocks chatting to Dave, our American neighbour on the porch next door.

When we looked up at the eves of our porch we noticed a merry band of bats. It was nice to know some animals were easy to spot without binoculars!

To the left is our lovely guide who taught us everything we known about Mamiraua reserve, the wildlife and the communities who live here. To the right is our amazing canoe guide who skilfully and silently led our canoe expeditions, slept in the birdhouse with us and released the rest of the piranhas we caught but never ate.

Jericoacoara

2008-04-11T04:47:00.000+01:00

To visit a remote beach town in the middle of the rainy season takes dedication. To not want to leave a remote beach town in the middle of the rainy season is to truly fall in love with it. This is how we felt about Jeri. So remote is our beloved Jeri, it can only be accessed by 4WD along the beach.

Our first visit to the beach was less than successful. We should have known by the ominous looking clouds in the sky and the complete lack of people on the beach that this was not going to work out for us. After Jez's quick mandatory dip in the ocean we decided to take a walk. This did not fare well for us either.

It was definitely a bit of a strange walk. We saw donkeys and cacti along the way and all the while ignored the signs that the heavens would burst open and leave us drenched. Exactly what were we doing here again?

The answer lay in a hostel located just a few minutes from us. Run by an Israeli gourmet chef-extraordinaire called Ben and patronised by the coolest bunch of people we had met so far, Ensalada de Frutas was THE hangout. If you weren't there, you might as well have packed your bags and taken the first 4WD out of Jeri.
Below you can see us sampling a fine selection of Ben's amazing creations.
The following day, Ben kindly organised a group excursion for Ensalada de Frutas- a day out dune buggying. Unfortunately Ben had to stay behind to ensure that hot oregano and chili popcorn was waiting for us on our return.

Hadar sat up the back with the JeTZ and Daniel in the front next to the driver. He did not know it at the time but Daniel's seat (and Daniel himself) would soon be highly coveted...

As we drove along the beach, this was the view we saw...but we soldiered on knowing full well that very soon we would once again be very cold and very wet!

And when it rained, it poured.

Sitting at the back of the buggy was no longer as much fun as we first thought. While we sat and waited for our turn to cross a river, our driver chivalrously hopped out to huddle under a piece of newspaper. We all clamoured into the front two seats. Jez was the last man sitting in the rain.

Although, he did finally come out of the backseat (so to speak) to share this special moment with Daniel.

And if you were wondering just how we were going to cross a river in a buggy, this is how. The buggy was driven onto these rafts. A couple of guys would jump in the water (which by the way was warmer than standing outside in the rain) and carry us to the other side.

After leaving our buggies and crossing another river by boat, we arrived to the restaurant in paradise. The weather had miraculously cleared up - note the beautiful rainbow.

We found half submerged in the water, a row of very inviting looking hammocks.

We hung out here while fresh fish was being prepared for our lunch.
A round of caiparinhas por favor!

Thank you to Luis for bargaining an excellent price for our fish and to Alex for pretending he was most unhappy with it thereby getting an even better deal.

While the boys flip-flopped all over the beach, TZ was accosted and forced to demonstrate her appalling painting skills on the wall of the restaurant.

We left the restaurant and sought out a spot to sandboard. When we arrived there, some kids were selling pieces of cardboard to slide down the dune for some extortionate price. We flagged them off and found a less expensive way of getting down...

On the ride back, Jez could not resist the opportunity to show off his arse to the few people left on this planet who have not yet seen it.

Not that the girls seemed to mind...

Every night was party night (and cards night) back at Ensalada de Frutas.

And every night at about 2:00 am something strange would happen. Someone would want to go to the bakery. Now this was no ordinary bakery. For a start it opened in the wee hours of the morning and closed at 7am. And what the bakery had in store for the night owls was simply spectacular. Once an invite to the bakery had been put out there, it would gain a momentum paralleled only by the pied piper's invite to the first rat out of Hamlen. We would walk out of Ensalada de Frutas and gather every lost soul along the way until we'd arrive at the bakery en masse.

We were so desperate to stay in Jeri that we even considered spending Passover there but we werent confident we could stay away from the bakery - so in the end we went somewhere there was no leavened bread to be found, the flooded forests of the Amazon...

Fernando de Noronha

2008-04-06T01:52:00.000+01:00

If you have never heard of the island called Fernando de Noronha, take heart you are not alone. We only found out about this gem of a dive island a few weeks before we booked our flight.
Although, we did have a few commitment issues when it came time to booking. Our tour agent was an avid diver himself. He raved on about how amazing it was to swim with turtles and sharks. Imagine the thoughts that went through our head when on telling us how safe it was, we could only stare at the stump that was now his arm!

On arrival at the Island, it felt like we had landed at the very place that life had begun. It was easy to imagine why Charles Darwin had come here as the abundance of vegetation and marine life is overwhelming. Just finding our way to our hostel room through this mass of beautiful tall flowers was a mission.

But sometimes moderation would be preferable. During the rainy season, yellow striped caterpillars are everywhere. They were all over the roads making fatalities (of the caterpillars) almost unavoidable, they were all over the walls of our hostel and they happily crawled under the door of our bedroom.
This would probably not be an issue for most people but when your greatest phobia is encountering large groups of creepy-crawlies, this can cause moments of inconsolable hysteria. One particularly precious moment was when TZ decided to wear her glasses and only then noticed hundreds of them by her feet. That Jez did not disown her when she began to cry in public is a true testament of his devotion!

Here's one making a bee line for our bedroom!

On a happier note, we made a delicious discovery of a superfruit called açai. It comes from the Amazon and people claim that those who consume it regularly will live to 100 in perfect health. We cannot comment on that but it is particularly yummy and we ate it for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Ok sometimes we gave the açai a miss and had freshly grilled fish for dinner. The chef was so proud of his creations that he said if we didn't like it we could have it for free. We happily paid!

After a painful episode of handing over a small fortune for four dives*, we boarded a very well organised dive boat. Nothing we had done in South America thus far had been as orderly or professional. Since neither of us had dived in 5 years this was a welcome surprise.
*Jez convinced the girl behind the counter that for the same money we could have flown to Bali from Australia and stayed at the most expensive hotel for a week with all our meals included. She kindly threw in the hiring of our dive gear for free.

Luckily for us, a dive photographer was on board the dive boat to capture the underwater wonderland. Although TZ did seem a little startled by the presence of paparazzi.

Jez on the other hand was too busy trying to ride the coat tails of this giant fish to pose for the camera.

Unlike any other dive we had done, the water was amazingly warm at 27 degrees and the visibility and colours incredible.

We had heard many times over that we would see giant turtles on our dive. Since it is near impossible to predict the habits of free creatures we tried not to get our hopes up.

When we saw this baby sleeping on the ocean floor, we were elated. If you look closely though you can see he was not in the least bit interested in smiling for the camera preferring instead to stick his head in a rock cavity.

Shortly after that we saw a 2.5 meter shark resting in a small cave and another baby shark nearby. Where was our trusty photographer then? He tried to make up for it by photographing us with other beautiful things but unfortunately, it's just not the same.

Here Jez admires another interesting aquatic life form. This time though he takes his regulator out his mouth for a quick underwater kiss. Unfortunately TZ is a little reluctant to stop her air flow under the water and so did not return the favour.

You dont need to be a diver to enjoy the spoils of the Island. There is a beach where turtles come to feed and lay their eggs. We snorkelled here with a guide and watched in delight as the turtles would gracefully peck at the seaweed and then very ungracefully flap their way to the surface for air.
Sometimes we would see hundreds of little fish pestering the turtles but actually, this is how the turtles keep clean. The fish are eating the algae that grows on their shells.

On our last day on the island, we decided to take it easy and go for a half day boat trip. Our guide promised that within minutes we would be surrounded by schools of dolphins.

He delivered on his promise too! Unfortunately though, we had hoped to see a very special kind of dolphin that jumps in the air and spins several times before landing. But then again, we had been spoilt enough with what we had seen in the last few days and could hardly complain.

This is our prize photo of the thousands upon thousands of photos we have taken thus far. No doubt it will feature on a wall in our house some day.

Pipa

2008-03-30T13:42:00.000+01:00

From Salvador, we headed further north to one of the hippest beach towns on Brazil's coast - Pipa. It came with the highest of recommendations from fellow travellers and did not in the least disappoint.

Within minutes of arriving in Pipa we found a place to stay only one block back from the beach. Here we met the only other person staying in our hostel, an Israeli called Oren.

We had been told that it was possible to swim with dolphins at a nearby beach called Golfino (which by the way means dolphin in Portuguese, so that's a pretty good start). We asked our new Israeli friend about the veracity of this claim and said he had never head of such a thing. So we set out together on a mission to discover the truth.
To get to Golfino, we had to walk across Centro beach. This was no problem until such time as the beach came to an abrupt end with large stretch of rocks. Under any other circumstance we would have cut our losses and turned back but Oren, who had served as paratrooper in the Israeli army, pressed on without another thought. We didn't want to be shown up as lightweights so we followed him across.

And it was a good thing too because when we finally made it to the other side, we jumped in the ocean and within moments we were surrounded by wild dolphins! As it happened, that day was our second wedding anniversary and although we now agreed it was easy to swim with the dolphins here, we still felt pretty special.

No prizes for guessing which one is Oren but if you aren't sure, why are you reading our blog? By the way, he did eventually show us up when we went out for an all you can eat asado (BBQ). After many, MANY rounds of beef and lamb, Jez finally gave up the ghost. You may recall that Jez has a pretty good reputation for making the most of all-you-can-eat situations. Anyway, long after he had unbuttoned his pants to make room for his newly expanded stomach, Oren was still ordering more rounds of meat. Where he actually put it is anyone's guess!

Pipa has some outstanding surf beaches...which is great if you are a surfer. For those of us that aren't though, surf lessons are offered. On a whim, we decided to take one lesson. To be completely honest, we were utterly hopeless. The first sign that we were not cut out for it was when we did the land exercises. After many failed attempts to copy our instructors, they decided it would be far easier to do it in the water. We had our doubts about the relative ease of getting up on the board in the water compared to on land.
Our doubts became a big fat reality when we got smashed by waves, swallowed copious amounts of water, bruised parts of our body's we were previously unaware of and were laughed off the stage by 10 year old surf pros. Suffice to say when we woke up the following morning contemplating whether we should return for our second lesson, we pressed the snooze button instead.

In another fascinating discovery, TZ found out that one of her ears which had been pierced as a child was still open after a decade of not wearing earrings. The earring in the photo was supposedly from a rare bird in the Amazon and was priced accordingly. Since we were going to the Amazon anyway, we didn't buy this lovely blue feather. When we did make it to the Amazon, we found a far more impressive and cheaper collection of feathers. Now TZ has three.

Almost every day we walked past a place near the beach that piqued our interest. We didn't know what it actually was though. There was jewellery and art on display but when we looked inside, there was a bar. When the owner saw us he asked if we played any instruments and whether we wanted to return for a jam session. What was this place? We had to know.
So on our last night we returned. We found out that the owner had come from Uruguay with his wife to enjoy the spoils of the hippie lifestyle Pipa had to offer. They simply built a house here which they lived in long enough until it became legally theirs. He painted while his wife made jewellery. Random people were invited over to jam and spectators could come and buy drinks. It was here that we discovered the very essence of Pipa, the reason why so many people are attracted to it and why no one wants to leave.

Tearing ourselves away from Pipa was indeed difficult but our next stop would be one of the most unforgettable places we had been to thus far - the spectacular world class diving island called Fernando de Noronha.

Salvador

2008-03-23T16:45:00.000Z

The JeTZ would like to apologise not only for the tardiness of this blog but also for the fact that despite our best attempts we cannot write it. Since we published the last blog, both of us have tried in vain to put to words the amazing time we had in Salvador and have failed dismally.
As such, we offer this: A selection of our best pictures and snippets of what we have written thus far. As we are now more than 2 months behind in our blogs and only two weeks away from leaving South America, we will in the meantime move on to the next blog.
Should you have any questions, queries or any theories of your own as to what our pictures mean, feel free to contact us. Or even better, feel free to complete our blog for us!
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When we arrived in Salvador we though the bus driver had taken a wrong turn and that somehow we had landed up in the heart of Africa. We had known that as one travels north from Rio de Janeiro the darker the people became, but we didn't realise that it culminated in Salvador where the majority of the locals are descendants of Africans brought across to the Americas as slaves...
We were unable to find any relevant photos for this introduction. We liked this one but actually it is a photo of an Indian, not an African.

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On our first night in Salvador we ventured out into Pelourinho - the old city. Here we were enticed into a reggae bar. Jez was trying to communicate in his limited Spanish with a stoned, drunk, and toothless local who naturally only spoke Portuguese. The local was dumbfounded when he dropped his beer and then looked at Jez in the most perplexed manner. When Jez replaced the guys beer with his own the two became friends for life, and solidified this pact by swaying on the spot to the sounds of reggae.
In real life, this was a really funny story! But it turned into an epic ramble that was not in the least funny, maybe you will find the teaser more interesting?
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TZ: What was the name of the museum we went to?
Jez: Not sure, we will have to check the diary. Where is the diary?
TZ: It is in our main luggage...
Jez: Should we just leave this blog for today, its not working...

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Near to our hostel was the beach Porto de Barra made famous by being ranked the 3rd best beach in the world according to the Guardian newspaper. As such we expected to see plenty of English at the beach, but in fact it was...
Not sure where Jez was going with this sentence, I think he has forgotten too...
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Meanwhile, in a separate blog attempt, TZ tried to describe the scenario of us having no idea what food this was even after we tried it. When Jez read the following sentence "Later we discovered it was sugar cane. Oh the humiliation" he said something like "why was it humiliating?" And that ended our blog attempt for the day.

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Salvador is the capital of capoeira...
We had various discussions on whether to explain what capoeira is which came to a dead end.
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This is a poor attempt to unblur a photo of an amazing capoeira performance we saw. We thought if we made it smaller it wouldnt seem so blurry. I think at this point we threw the laptop against the wall.

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Today capoeira is widely practiced by Salvadorians and you can see performances just about anywhere. But most impressive are those dedicated souls who practices their moves on the beach.
There are 4 photos in this series but apparently seeing all 4 is overkill...right lets leave the blog for today.

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Not content to be mere spectators, the JeTZ took up capoeira themselves. After day one we could barely walk but we loved it so much we went back for more punishment for the next 4 days. There are no photos of us unfortunately but let's just say we were quite far from looking like pros!
We were not able to capture just how amazing our classes were, how inspirational our teacher was and how jealous we were that 10 year old kids could kick our arses!
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As you now know, you can get just about any product or service on the beach. So when the masseuse came around with his watering can and oil Jez gave him the big thumbs up. Whilst working away the pain in Jez's bruised feet, he serenaded us with an impressive collection of corny American pop songs.
BIG FAT LIE!! This photo was taken way before we had done any capoeira classes. But he did sing to us which was funny.

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At this point we ran out of photos and after a big discussion on our word to photo ratio the blog was left unfinished.

Costa do Sol

2008-03-15T19:24:00.000Z

Buzios is a beautiful beach town made famous when Bridget Bardot visited it back in the 60s. We spent 3 days here in a vain attempt to get out of Rio and head north towards Salvador. At some stage between eating grilled cheese sprinkled with oregano and watching the worst Brazilian movie in history, we found out that we could not go any further north than Buzios. We would have to take another 4 hour bus ride back to Rio and try again.

And try again we did. We took a bus to Petropolis, a colonial town made famous by Portuguese Royalty who set up shop in a rather impressive looking palace. For all its pomp and circumstance, Petropolis was actually a boring and forgettable experience..not to mention we had to take another bus back to Rio to try head north again.

In the end we decided to flag these useless side trips and take the pain - a 17 hour bus to Porto Seguro just south of Salvador. On our first day we discovered two things. Fantastic caipirinhas are made by this lovely lady. Take a good look at her face so you remember not to have them from anyone else should you find yourself in this neck of the woods!

This guy is one of the most accomplished crepe makers in Brazil. We thought he was making a coconut-based crepe but actually it was made from a kind of root vegetable called manioc. We will tell you more about this amazing vegetable and its myriad incarnations in the next few blogs.

Absolutely mandatory is a visit to one of the many beach clubs. This one was called Axe Moi (pronounced Ashe Mwa) Learning how to dance on the beach is a favourite past time of the locals. This mob learnt some pretty fancy footwork which would come in handy later that night...

Meanwhile, down at the beach some people were in a big hurry to get a tan and so took up the services of the portable spray-on tanner.

The girl in the left of the above photo seemed to be undecided as to whether she wanted a spray on tan. Apparently her decision was pending on something she was looking for in her bikini bottoms. Actually, the public touching of one's own privates is very common place on the beaches of Brazil. These chumps felt no shame in interrupting a solid posing session to scratch their itchy genitalia.

As we lazed around on deck chairs we started to feel a wee bit peckish. There was no shortage of food sellers walking past us. We surveyed their goods and almost invariably bought something - like salted fish from this guy.

Jez devoured his leaving nothing by the head and tail. Click for a demonstration on how salted fish is eaten...
.

Anyone for watermelon? Yes please!

Cold water? No thanks, we dont support child labour.

That night we thought we'd put on our dancing shoes and head back to Axe Moi for a party...when we got there the only thing our feet were good for was kicking ourselves. Those that had learnt the dance moves that day got to actually use them that night. And if you werent dancing en masse then perhaps you would like a colourful spray-on tattoo?

We left when the big act came on - a cheesy sing-along which of course we didn't know the words to. Back on the street we saw something that's actually not that strange in Brazil. Cars with giant speakers in their boots blaring with music so loud you walk away partially deaf. Click below to find out what you look like if you did not go to dance school at the beach.

The next day, we went to another beach. There was no dancing at this one. It was quiet and we were very well looked after.

The beach was actually located on an Indian reserve. This was evidenced by a lot of people walking around dressed as Indians and selling Indian type crafts. Just minutes away from the water was a museum. At the entrance we were greeted by these friendly kids. We paid them the 1 Real entrance fee and entered.

Exhibit one, a tee pee. We looked around for some explanation and found... a child, our tour guide. She rapidly explained to us in Portuguese what we were looking at. Here is a bed, here is a table, would you like a photo? Click. She whipped through the rest of the museum and ended off with a not so subtle cue that we were to tip her.

We left the museum no wiser than we arrived but we did find some suitable attire for our up and coming trip to the Amazon.

Costa Verde

2008-03-07T07:39:00.000Z

The JeTZ philosophy on travel planning:
Arrive in a destination with barely, if any, knowledge of the place. Bide our time until we encounter a local or backpacker. Befriend said local/backpacker and extract from them their favourite destinations in and around the area. Head to those destinations next.
This is how we landed up in Isla Grande, an hour or so from Rio. The Rabs and JeTZ boarded the schooner below praising our ability to have found a cheaper way to reach the island than taking the official boat across.

But that's probably because they pay the staff on board according to their age!

The following day, we organised a boat trip which would take us around to different beaches and lagoons on the Island.

At the first stop we could jump off the boat and snorkel. Unfortunately, Jez's hired snorkel is now home to a small family of lobsters after it fell into the murky ocean never to be seen again.

On the boat we spotted this guy sporting a fantastic tattoo of Golom. We cannot believe the trouble people go to in order to make it into our blog!

At the next stop we could swim out to a beach which had a beautiful warm lagoon waiting for us. There we found an enterprising photographer cashing in on people who had swum across without a camera. We took up his offer for a quick photoshoot.

Isla Grande is basically a big forest. To access the beaches around the island involves either walking through trails in the forest or as we had done the previous day, taking a boat around. We decided to explore some of the trails and see what beaches we would land up in. This was one of our favourites.

There was no beach to speak of so we just hung our bags on trees and waded around looking at fish.

At night, we had a bit of routine going. It involved playing several rounds of Rummy or Truco (a Brazilian card game) while diligently drinking Johnnie Walker and Coke. Here mum makes it clear that there is no way they are schlepping around any more bottles of whiskey and if she has to she will finish them herself!

Then the munchies would set in. By this time, most restaurants were closed leaving us with few options. Unfortunately, sometimes the food that was available was pretty bad...like this guy's crepes. Here TZ consoles Jez and promises him that we will find something else to eat.

And that we did. The portable desert carriage was a big hit. It always delivered the best chocolate cake, rum balls or coconut slices.

Next stop: The Rabs and the JeTZ cross back to the mainland and bus to the quaint colonial town of Paraty. Unfortunately when we got there, the weather had taken a turn for the worse...

No matter, we braved the floods and walked into the cobbled streets of the old city to see what treasures we could find. This was a good start, a Cachaçaria. How many kinds of Cachaça exactly? We dont know, but in the order of hundreds. Naturally we spent the next 2 months in Brazil drinking a lot of Caipirinhas until we managed to find the perfect one!

The next day we took a walk to the estuary just outside the old city. Here we found an array of brightly coloured boats beckoning us to come for a ride.

We were making ourselves comfortable on the top deck of the boat when we noticed our driver had a little trouble reversing. Our anchor line managed to get in a tangle with the other boats. The other drivers laughed and guffawed at his lack of reversing skills but he showed them all when he stripped down to his jocks, jumped in the water and freed us.

But trouble followed us out to sea when Jez decided to tan his white arse on the top deck of the boat. The Water Rats in Paraty let Jez off with a warning: If he wishes to take off his underwear, could he please wear this red life saver to spare him his dignity. Perhaps those present at Jez's bux party will understand the significance of this better.
We returned to Rio where we would have to say our farewells. TZ's onset of homesickness finally kicked in after 1.5 years of not seeing her family. But good times were still ahead for all. The Rabs would continue their holiday in South America with a visit to Iguazu Falls and Buenos Aires. And the JeTZ were due north to visit more of Brazil's beautiful beaches.

Coming up, despite their very best attempts to get to Salvador, the JeTZ land up in a beautiful beach town made famous by Bridget Bardot and a not so exciting colonial town made famous by Portuguese royalty.

Rabs in Rio

2008-03-03T00:32:00.000Z

Meet TZ's parents, Joel and Val Rabinowitz, or The Big Joelowksi and Mrs Mum as we refer to them in private. The Rabs came to visit the JeTZ in Rio de Janeiro for pleasure but were promptly sequestered to assist in urgent matters of business - the testing of various hypotheses.

First up, Jez filled in the Rabs on the hairless Brazilian coconut situation (see previous blog). A meticulous researcher, Joel conducted an independent and exhaustive investigation of his own but invariably came to the same conclusion as Jez: The Brazilian wax (when applied to coconuts) enhances flavour.

A bit more challenging was the following hypothesis: That the ratio of bikini to skin is smallest in Rio and becomes greater as one travels further from B.E. (bikini epicentre) until reaching a maximum at Riyadh, Saudi Arabia.
In order to test this hypothesis in a scientifically sound manner, the Rabs and the JeTZ joined forces to reconnoitre the beaches of Brazil for a statistically significant sample size.

Conclusion: Blindingly obvious with hindsight, this theory cuts both ways. The ratio can be reduced by using less bikini or more skin. Shortly after this photo was taken the boys declared stumps.

As with any job, scouring the beaches comes with a few occupational hazards. First the boys had to contend with their burnt retinas and then Val had to retire to the fridge in her hotel room to nurse some burnt feet.

But soon we were back in business. Down at the Copa, Copacabaaaana we searched for alternative interesting subjects. We loved this one - the walking bikini salesmen. He has the best job on the beach. Where do you suppose the change room is?

The gay section of the beach was clearly indicated by the rainbow flag, but just in case you missed it, the deck chairs come complete with instructions...see Mr and Mr on the chairs:

After the beach exploits we were ready to check out the other landmarks. First up was Jesus the Redeemer or B.C. (Big Christo) towering over the city, visible from just about anywhere. Although entirely unnecessary we landed up taking a private tour with an enterprising young Brazilian named Paulo.

TZ thought after 30 years of hard work, she was finally receiving the blessing of "favourite child", but it turns out Val was giving TZ a quick reminder that she can only ascend the heavenly escalator so long as she remembers she is Jewish.

Standing underneath B.C. we spotted our next destination, Sugar Loaf mountain:

We ascended Sugar Loaf by cable car and watched the sun set over Rio:

After dark the vista becomes, if possible, even more beautiful:

Look closely at the photo. Can you see that we all look 10 years younger? That's because we all splashed a bit of anti-aging holy water on our faces from a natural spring. Well, it worked for all of us except Joel. Sure he looks younger but he also looks 10 shades darker...

Ok, so the darker guy is Paulo who had more than one secret up his sleeve. He knew of a magical place where the forest met the beach, where the freshest fish was to be found, and above all else, which was blessedly free of tourists.

Not only did they serve the freshest fish, but also caipirinha (Brazilian cocktail) made with maracuja (giant Brazilian passion fruit).

We can't be sure if it was the maracuja or the cachaça (Brazilian alcohol) that inspired some spontaneous acts of passion...

... but we all felt a little dirty when this local decided to get in on the act:

We soon discovered that in Brazil, quirky behaviour on the beach is not limited to the tourist locations of Ipanema and Copacabana. We were impressed by the dedication of this artist to his subject. This was no "slip, slop, slap" operation, but an exercise in fine art.

Before leaving Rio, a less sordid discovery was made: an English style tea house serving world class afogado. As with most things, the splendour was in the delivery. Here TZ does a dramatic interpretation of how best to prepare it.

Coming up the JeTZ and the Rabs travel to the Costa Verde to be spoiled by more beautiful beaches and islands. Their research takes an unexpected turn when they discover that not all beaches are created equally.

Sao Paulo

2008-02-23T05:35:00.001Z

Approximately 96 moons ago, Jez met a Brazilian called Michel on a kibbutz in Israel. They bonded over their shared love for music, food, Israel and above all ye old hubbly bubbly. Although their time on the Kibbutz lasted only 6 months Jez spent the next 6 years lamenting the absence of his Brazilian friend and vowed to reunite when we travelled to South America. But 6 years is a long time and neither could be sure that their friendship truly stood the test of time. Nevertheless, Michel very kindly offered for the JeTZ to stay with him...and his beautiful new fiance Ulli.

...and their two cats "Uncle Leo" and Bia. They took a little longer to warm to us.

It was nice to know that some things hadn't changed at all. Ye old hubbly bubbly was still a favourite, only now Michel had his very own.

Sao Paulo is home to the second largest Japanese population outside of Japan. Consequently, some of the most superb Japanese food can be found here and Michel knew exactly where that would be. Not long after receiving a sumo sized serving of sushi, sushimi and other Japanese specialities, Michel, Ulli and TZ gave up the ghost leaving Jez to take a lot of raw fish for the team.

In Brazil we made a very interesting discovery. The shell of coconuts, unlike the coconuts we know in South East Asia, are completely hairless.

This discovery lead us to question whether in Brazil it was the coconuts and not the women that were recipients of the "Brazilian wax".
Incidentally by the time we left Brazil we calculated that Jez had drunk over 50 coconuts. After which he declared that hairless (coconuts) was the way forward.

It had been about 1.5 years since we had been anywhere near a beach (our disastrous trip to Mallorca not counting). We could not have landed on softer (or squeakier) sand when Michel whisked us away to the family beach house and showed us a beach more beautiful and quiet than any other we had ever seen.

Here you can see our patio and in front of it our white tent where we spent our days luxuriating and dreaming of buying a beach house next door.

In the late afternoon we would walk all of two minutes from our white tent on the beach to the pool to wash the sand off.

After building up a hearty appetite, Michel cooked us the mother of all barbeques.

And here you can see just how much Jez enjoys a good piece of steak...

After a tough day in the office, the boys passed out.

The following morning we crept into Michel's room and serenaded him with a wake up call. Our day on the beach would start all over again...

Michel insisted that we could not leave Sao Paulo without seeing a soccer game. So on our last day there we went to see
Michel's team play the dirty, stinking.
It is claimed that Corinthians have 24 million supporters, meaning that when Corinthians lost in 0-1 in the 85th minute, there were more pissed off Corinthians than there are Australian citizens!
The police presence was very heavy but mainly served to ensure that the supporters from each team took separate roads leading into different entrances into the stadium. Inside the stadium the supporters would continue to be be safely divided by a fence so as not to kill each other.

As you can see below, some supporters were very passionate! Meanwhile the Aussie contingent was interested to know why no one was sitting in their allocated seats. In the end we decided it wasnt safe to interrupt the crazy Brazilians in our seats who were performing black magic rituals against the opposition and ask them to kindly move.

And so the question of whether their friendship had indeed stood the test of time was clearly answered. Jez and Michel vowed never again to wait 6 years between drinks.

P.S Michel and Ulli will be married in August this year. We wish we could be there, but on the other hand Jez has a strong compulsion to jump into their photos which could be a little awkward during the wedding photo shoot...

Uncle Leo and Bia finally accepted the JeTZ into their home on the premise that at night they could play chase the invisible mouse across the bed.

But only Michel and Ulli were ever given any real affection from the cats. The JeTZ renew their commitment to only ever get dogs!

Coming up, we commence research into the ever declining ratio of bikini to body mass starting on the beaches of Rio de Janeiro. Of course this is a mammoth task and so two extra researches were brought in all the way from Australia to help...

Punta Arenas

2008-02-16T00:03:00.000Z

Punta Arenas was the southern most point in our travels and by far the coldest place we have ever been. Our only reason for going was to visit a penguin colony that lives on Magallanes Island off the coast of Punta Arenas.

On the way to the Island there was an odour most foul followed by the sight of hundreds of sea lions frolicking on a very small land mass.
They were very hospitable and put on a good show for us swimming near the boat and playing up for the camera.

On reaching the penguin island we couldn't believe just how many there were. It was like prom night at the beach.

It was clear that the penguins had been very busy making new ones. And it wasnt hard to tell which were the babies and which were the parents as they were the skinny ones that selflessly ensured that their chicks were very well fed.

The island has a path for humans to walk around and big warning signs to advise against crossing over. The penguins seem very well aware of this and are very cautious about crossing over the path. They look left, right and left again before making a dash for it if the coast is clear. This little one took a calculated risk and decided Jez was not a threat.

The island is covered in penguin burrows and at first glance they all seem to be the same. One wonders how the penguins could possibly remember which one is theirs. We never saw any streets signs or burrow numbers...

And yet...look what happens if a penguin accidentally goes into the wrong burrow.

Most penguins were on guard and not interested to stop for a chat about life the universe and everything but we did find one that was most curious about TZ...

And the curiosity was very clearly reciprocated. Click to see how this scene plays out...

We left Punta Arenas and headed up to a much warmer city, Santiago. There we would waste an entire week waiting for our Brazilian visas.
Coming up, the JeTZ pack away their wet weather gear, beanies and gloves and bring out their bathers and sunscreen as they head for the coast of Brazil...

El Chalten - Ice Hike

2008-02-13T04:46:00.000Z

El Chalten is Argentina's newest town. In fact, it is so new that its cemetery is just a vacant plot of land. It is near this town that we were told was some of Argentina's best ice hiking action. We wasted little time getting down there stopping only at a tea house for cake, hot chocolate and a photoshoot with the resident (and very friendly) guanaco.

In order to get to the glacier we had to hike for several hours but we hardly minded, look at the backdrop!

Just to keep us on our toes...or off for that matter, we took a flying fox across this river.

Here you can see our first view of the glacier...

We just had one little problem...

With our crampons securely fastened to our boots, we were ready to kick some ice.

Although significantly easier to climb the icey hills in crampons, we all needed a helping hand crossing the ridges.

The glacier was a lot less flat than we were expecting. It looked a bit like a rough sea that had been snap frozen in time...

But not all of it was snap frozen. We could clearly see icey blue water through the cracks in the ice, although we couldn't always tell where the cracks were or if we going to create some ourselves.

We "duck walked" down a steep decline and landed up in a rather deep section of the glacier looking up at tall thick walls of ice. The only way out was to scale the walls with ice picks.
Here Jez makes it looks easy...

We still had a full day in El Chalten and decided to check out Mount Fitzroy (a rock feature similar to Torres Del Paine). Unfortunately we had a few problems the night before. We had picked up some bed bugs from a hostel we had stayed in El Calafate and unknowingly carried them with us to El Chalten in our clothes. They came to feed on us at about 3:00am (as they had done for the past few days) making sleeping a bit of a non-event. Naturally we weren't so excited to wake up bright and early the next morning to see Fitzroy. When we did finally get our act together we realised we were never going to have time to go all the way there and settled for a hike to a view point only a few hours away.
As usual, the high speed Patagonia winds paid us a visit. See the cap fastened to TZ's jeans? That was the last time she saw it before the wind ripped open the Velcro and carried it away. (p.s not that anyone is counting but this was the 5th hat that had to be replaced...)

When we reached our viewpoint, Fitzroy was mainly shrouded in a thick cloud...

This was rather disappointing of course and so we turned around and headed back to the town to consol ourselves with something yummy...
The topping on the waffles is actually made from a special kind of berry which is found in El Calafate and aptly called Calafate Jam.

Stay tuned for our visit to the penguin colonies of Punta Arenas, our last stop in Patagonia.

El Calafate

2008-02-07T13:13:00.000Z

After our 5 day hike in Torres Del Paine, we took some time out to relax in El Calafate, Argentina. Unfortunately Jez was bed bound for a few days recovering from his fever. So I took the opportunity to go horse riding in Cerro Fria. Here we were promised views of both the Paine and its less attractive sister, Fitzroy. I wouldn't say they lied about that as it was possible to see them, but only through a telescope!
Meet my guide, Eduardo. He did a far better job of setting a Gaucho fashion trend than the pace of the horses.

Meet my horse, Willow. Now she was a hard worker! Always in the front with no tolerance for horses that lagged or stopped. Actually, very similar in temperament to my husband...

Afterwards we enjoyed an all-you-can-eat asado (BBQ). I felt bad that Jez was still on a soup diet but there is no shortage of asados in Argentina. I knew as soon he was better, he'd be back to his carnivorous ways.

After relaying the yumminess of the asado to my feverous husband, Jez regained his strength and we ventured into the heart of Gaucho land in search of the most comprehensive asado we could find: a sheep station called Estancia Nibepo.

Before lunch, we were given a sheep shearing demonstration. First the sheep's legs are tied together. Then the shearer pulls out a rusty old shear...

...15 minutes later, the sheep is shorn and the wool is ready to be turned into a toasty pair of ugg boots!

Here Jez tries to get some revenge on me for forcing him to cut his hair back in Sucre...

I knew Jez was back to his healthy best when he disappeared from the table and was found tucking in to the almost ready lamb. A moment later Jez was gently asked to refrain from eating the meat until it had been brought to him at his table.

Just before we left the farm, we found this rather oversized bee...we had heard of a type of meat-eating bee that could be found in Bariloche and couldn't help but wonder if these ones were of the same ilk? Then again, why would any self-respecting carnivore settle for lavender when in proximity to such a delicious asado?

A few days later, we went to see the jewel of El Calafate - South America's biggest and still growing glacier, Perito Moreno.

At the bus station, we waited patiently in line behind this cuddly customer.

The glacier backed up into the mountains and rested under the arc of a rainbow. It was as if we had reached the end of the world.

We could only go as far as the viewing platform. From this vantage point we could hear the loud cracking of the ice as it calved and smashed into the water causing huge waves that would last for several minutes.

Here we were warned why it might be a bad idea to venture further than the viewing platform...

Its not only people that are in danger from the calving icebergs. If you look closely at the following picture you can see a cruise ship. Its relative size gives you a picture of just how big this chunk of ice is. The ship could not approach any closer, because the waves and flying ice would endanger the passengers.

We were lucky enough to capture an impressive calving moment on camera.

Perito Moreno presented us with another opportunity to go ice hiking. However we had heard that the best place to do this was in a small town called El Chalten. You haven't heard of it? Don't worry, most people haven't. It is a brand spanking new town in Argentina...

Promised Paines

2008-02-06T12:24:00.000Z

Ok, so clearly we did reach the Promised Paines but not in the way we originally intended to. As impressive as they are in grey, the best time to see them is at dawn when the sun rises over them draping them in a deep red light. In order to do this, we needed to get up at some ungodly hour and head out in the dark. By the time we would have reached the Paines the sun would just be rising.

Full of enthusiasm the JeTZ planned to see Torres del Paine at its crimson best. They were however quite unprepared, with only a penlight and a vague notion of the 2 hour route. The manager of the refugio took pity and lent us an additional head lamp, but the JeTZ began to feel discouraged when they learnt that they were the only fools prepared to take on this mission. Everybody else, from their compatriots in the cushy refugio to the hard core hikers who carried their own tents planned to embark after breakfast. Even "Cactus" as we affectionately referred to the grizzled Scandinavian power walker who for days had been tormenting us with her stopwatch, her John Mcenroe sweat band, and her little black book of Personal Best, had decided to give the sunrise a miss. Apparently it was too dark, too cold, and too slippery to attempt. Bah ... the JeTZ live for a challenge.

Our alarm went of at 3:30am. Cactus stirred in her bed and sneered disapprovingly. We tiptoed outside into the pitch black night. The penlight and head lamp combined gave us barely a meter of visibility. Now where? We had hardly made it past the veranda and did not know where to go. TZ had some vague recollection about turning left after a river. After successfully crossing the river bridge and turning left, the penlight died. It started to rain. The path was turning into mud puddles. We were lost and wanted our mums. With our tails between our legs we returned to the refugio. Cactus's sneer became a snigger.

At breakfast we discovered two things. Firstly, we were actually on the correct track. Apparently there were markings on the trees and rocks to confirm this, but without sufficient light we hadn't known. Secondly, it would have been ludicrous to continue as the Paines had been covered by cloud all night, which was only now beginning to clear (dah ... why didnt we think of that when we were scrambling in the rain?)

On reaching the Paine, TZ was overcome by a sense of elation.

Jez was overcome by his desire to strip off and show the world his own towering phallus.

After five days in the national park, and the climax (figuratively, not literally) of our photo shoot at the Torres del Paine, our hike was almost over. A few hours later we had reached the edge of the park from where we would catch a bus back to the city of Puerto Natales. Here we were able to see this 5 star hotel from where less active travellers take short forays on horseback into the park before making a hasty retreat to their modern conveniences, such as showers and flushable toilets. Waiting for the bus in our accumulated filth we felt a certain sense of satisfaction. We had visited one of the most beautiful and remote parts of the world, and for 5 days we had been closer to nature than we could have anticipated.

Torres del Paine

2008-02-01T12:16:00.000Z

Torres Del Paine is listed by National Geographic as one of the top 50 locations to visit before you die. So with our new big day pack accommodating our enormous over-stuffed medical kit, our hard-core Northface wind and rain protection gear, brand new multi-purpose Swiss Army knife and never-say-die attitude, the JeTZ were ready for their 5 day hike to see the gem of Patagonia.
Things started off very well when on entering the national park, we were greeted by a guanaco (yes, it looks very similar to the vicuna and no, we dont know the difference). If you look closely in the background on the right hand side, you can make out Torres del Paine - three enormous phallic rock formations battered into their odd shape by the wind.

The first glimpse of the Paine was just a teaser. We would not see them again until the last day. In the meantime, we hopped onto this catamaran and headed away to our refugio which was more like a monolithic monstrosity and less like the cosy refugio we stayed at on top of Tronador!

It was on this catamaran we got our first taste of the infamous Patagonian high-speed winds. Look at the bizarre shaped clouds above!

The following day we hiked 11km to see the spectacular Glacier Gray. As you can see, we dressed expecting some pretty bad weather...

...but after 15 minutes of uphill climb, the gear had to go! Unfortunately this meant exposing TZ's so called 'one size fits all' wet weather pants.

The first sign of Glacier Gray was when we saw this rather small looking block of blue ice floating in the river.

On closer inspection it wasn't actually that small!

After devouring our packed lunch our bags were bit lighter but our tummy's were a lot heavier. Luckily we were only half way there and had plenty of time to burn it off.

We had been following the 'W' trail, so named because the path is in the shape of a giant 'W'. Here you can see our first view of Glacier Gray.

Up close, the glacier looks a lot more impressive. We spent some time exploring the area despite the crazy winds giving Jez a rather severe case of a bad hair day! (TZ took a more preventative approach wearing a headband, but Jez wouldnt hear of it.)

Gathered in a bay opposite Glacier Gray was this collection of bizarrely shaped ice blocks which just begged to be played with!

Jez was pretty disappointed having found some of the freshest ice in the world only to be without a bottle of Jack Daniels.

Would TZ like to replace her diamond engagement ring for this beauty? hmmm maybe not.

Here Jez is trying out for the role of Patagonian Neptune...

While Jez was getting into the spirit of things, TZ was somewhat disillusioned to find this wasn't exactly the beach holiday she had hoped for...

With the advantage of perspective you can see that the collection of icebergs we had frolicked amongst in the bay were really only babies compared to some of the larger children that had calved from Glacier Gray.

The following day we hiked a little off our trail and closer to the glacier to get an even better view. We discovered that ice trekking on the glacier was possible but unfortunately a big group of whinging Poms had taken all the spots. When we found out that the group was staying at our refugio kitted out with walking poles, brightly coloured lycra gear and had their own sherpas, we were even more unimpressed!

It was back to work for us as we left the glacier and continued along the 'W' track.

We arrived at our refugio severely battered by the wind. It was impossible to walk in a straight line with the wind blowing our backpacks, and hence us off course. When we had a look at the weather forecast for the 03/01 we were rather shocked to see the conditions we had just braved!

The following day we headed off to discover the French Valley.

This was our longest and most demanding day yet. The 21km hike took about 10 hours and did not go exactly as planned. For a start, sections of the path needed a bit of work...

...but the real dramas began when TZ's knee started to give problems 4 hours into the hike. She was all smiles for the camera but when the camera was off she hobbled like an old woman for another 4 hours until finally she agreed to swallow her pride and borrow a hiking pole from one of the Poms.

Miraculously, the following day TZ's knee had recovered and she handed the pole back to the Poms who clearly needed it more than her to cross this river...

Truth be told, this river crossing was a lot more difficult than it appears. The current was ferocious and we had to hop from stone to slippery stone with our backpacks catching in the wind and throwing us off balance. While Jez was congratulating himself for making it across in one piece he realised that hidden somewhere in that Aramaic wedding contract he was obliged to return to the middle of the river and rescue his stranded wife.
Here is Ursin, our friend from the Navimag demonstrating with typical Swiss efficiency that the shortest route between two points is a straight line
After the river shenanigans a quick kip was in order.

In Torres del Paine it is possible to see pumas, condors, mountain goats, hares, and other exotic Patagonian beasts. Unfortunately for us we only saw lazy Poms and this woodpecker, which funnily enough is called carpintero in Spanish.

A few days into the hike Jez developed a nasty fever. TZ's knee also started to play up and with only a few hours remaining to their last refugio, neither were sure whether they would actually make it. Through these ordeals the JeTZ began to feel as if they had been wandering aimlessly in Patagonia for 40 years. Here you can see TZ looking over the valley towards the Promised Paines pondering if they would indeed see them before they died...

Stay tuned for the second episode of our Torres del Paine blog to find out if the JeTZ would be permitted to step foot in the refugio of milk and honey.

Navimag Cruise

2008-01-28T19:13:00.000Z

There are two ways of getting down to Torres del Paine's National Park from Bariloche. A 36 hour bus ride from hell or a 4 day boat cruise down the fjords of the Chilean coast. We opted for the cruise which began in Puerto Montt, Chile.

Before hopping on the the boat we went for lunch at a nearby cafe. Some guys walked in looking like Robin Hood's merry band. They stood in front of our table and serenaded us. In the end the guy playing the tambourine turned his instrument into a collection dish for coins. His connection with Robin Hood was stronger than we thought!

In the boarding lounge we fretted as we looked around and wondered who our potential cabin mates were going to be. All we saw were obese American couples. We were certain that would mean a lot of snoring, a lot of "me" talk and that the small cabin would be crowded with their oversized luggage. Imagine our relief when we found we were sharing with a Swiss Couple: Heidi and Ursin - the exact opposite of our nightmare. Moreover, with their inbuilt Swiss efficiency chromosomes they were sure to help us work out the best way to fit both the luggage and us into the cabin at the same time!

And now for the big question...what on earth were we going to do with ourselves for 4 days on a boat? We need not have worried. Throughout the day announcements were made over the loudspeaker advising us in 3 different languages that it was time to wake up, time to have breakfast, time to watch a documentary, time to have lunch, time to see this or that outside, time to have dinner...you get the idea. When we weren't being told what to do, we engaged in Yahtzee championships.

The boat we were travelling on was called 'The Navimag'. It was essentially an old cargo boat used to transport goods to Puerto Eden (more about that shortly). You can see in the photo below how we negotiated our way through narrow channels which had been created between small islands.

The Navimag still delivers goods to Puerto Eden and hence it was a rather convenient opportunity for us to get off the boat. Here you can see our first view of the small port. It was literally comprised of only two streets, a church and some houses.

Puerto Eden is home to a smattering of the remaining Kawesqar tribe of Patagonia. In days gone by entire families spent most of their lives in kayaks. Dad would sit up at the front navigating. He'd hunt for sea lions and fish. He would also wear the umbilical cord of his first born around his neck for a year. If it did not break this would bring his family good luck. Mum would sit at the back steering. She too would go hunting for fish by diving in the freezing waters naked with a basket around her neck. Meanwhile the kids would sit in the middle tending to a fire. There is no evidence to suggest they engaged in Yahtzee championships. Here you can see one of these old kayaks...not as posh as you would imagine a house boat to look.

Later we would stumble across another old relic. We started to feel like the Navimag was a luxury boat...

That afternoon we passed Glacier Pio XI. Look how inviting it seems! Our resolve to hike on a glacier was growing.

The food on board was pretty average but occasionally they would spice things up by adding some bright colouring to it. We found that the brighter the colour, the more unidentifiable the flavour.

That evening was our last on the boat and we all celebrated with a game of Bingo. The winner of the first round was some old guy who used his 15 seconds of fame to grab the hostess' arse during a celebratory dance. Unfortunately we have no evidence of this because we hardly thought to bring our camera to a game of Bingo!
The following day whilst packing up we found a rather interesting item in our bedroom - a pair of underpants clearly belonging to a girl. But after a quick round of 'whose are these?' the owner failed to materialise. We threw them in the bin but continued to speculate as to who the owner could be. We decided that the most likely scenario was as follows: Ursin had invited a male friend into our room earlier that day to view something on his computer. We considered that the friend might have been carrying them with him as a souvenir of sorts and accidentally dropped them. It was possible since his friend had made no secret of the fact that he was interested in some Japanese girl sharing his cabin. We landed up throwing them away as none of us were game to ask the question...none except Jez. The results of the interrogation were fruitless, Ursin's friend strongly denied the claim. Finally, Jez took matters into his own hands...Click on the video to find out what happens when Jez inspects the label...

Finally we arrived in Port Natales, the spring board to our hike in the Torres Del Paines National Park.

Bariloche: Tronador

2008-01-25T04:05:00.000Z

The plan was to hike 17.5 km up Cerro Tronador to see its glacier and stay at the refugio overnight at the top. The mountain has a thick icecap covering it with tongues of ice descending and reshaping the landscape. Tronador means Thunderer in Spanish and it refers to the roaring sound produced as the ice cracks. As the glacier expands it pushes everything out of its way, gobbling up any sign of life and spitting out dead trees and stones. On the way up we would see the spectacular glacier, and in places where it had receded, its trail of destruction.
Having some expectation of what this might actually look like, we were somewhat surprised when we found ourselves trekking through thick forest...

We were also surprised to find out that it was a stinker of a day and we would be accompanied by a bothersome business of flies. But not just any flies, horse flies. The enormous type that draw blood and madden horses. Here you can see one that landed on TZ's hat. Jez was extremely chivalrous and killed that fly (and others) with one almighty smack leaving TZ somewhat dazed.

After hiking about four hours of steep incline we saw through a clearing in the forest our first sneak preview of the glacier:

As we grew closer the glacier replaced the forest and dominated the landscape. We could see and hear mother nature at work. As the glacier melted it thundered, and streams were created. An idea entered our imagination ... what did this look like up close and more importantly could we walk on it?

We approached the summit separately. Jez was a good half hour in front and started to panic. Our accommodation was somewhat...smaller than he expected and not as hospitable-looking as he assumed it would be. None of this mattered. He knew that if it did not have a power outlet for TZ's hairdryer all bets were off...Minutes later, he learnt that this was not where we were going to sleep. It was in fact a storage shed!

The actual refugio was a lot more impressive than the storage shed. Unfortunately though it still didnt have any power outlets. All the energy needs were supplied by solar panels. Food was carried up by backpack, and once a year heavy supplies such as gas bottles were brought up by helicopter. At least they dont have to go too far for fresh water!

Despite the difficulties, the friendly staff at the refugio prepared for us the very best steak we ate whilst in Argentina.
When we arrived we joined the other backpackers wandering around, stupefied by exhaustion and the overwhelming view.

We spent the afternoon with jaws agape, and were thrilled by the spectacle of circling condors.

It may look like we roughed it a bit, but if you look closely at this picture of TZ reading her book and enjoying a hot chocolate, you can see some people camped outside. The Argentinians (ie non-gringos) even prepared food that they had schlepped up the mountain themselves.

Meanwhile, Jez was brushing up on his Patagonian history by reading Bruce Chatwin's classic 'In Patagonia'. If the man himself were alive today, he would be most impressed by the setting in which his book was being read. Although he might not be so happy to learn that the erstwhile, mostly undiscovered farthermost end-of-the-world region that he knew back in the 70s now swarms with millions of tourists...

One of the staff at the refugio ran ice-hiking trips across the glacier. Jez was excited at the idea of using crampons although he wasnt exactly sure what they were. Unfortunately the expedition collapsed when a bunch of Frenchies pulled out. In retrospect it was hard to be disappointed with the croissant munchers, as their intention to exert themselves outlasted their compatriots in WWII. See below Jez's frustration in pantomime.

Note the luminous Kermit green backpack Jez is sporting. Keen observers will note a distinct lack of it in subsequent photos. This is because the backpack was bought in haste the day before we hiked up Tronador. After struggling to fit all his things in it for a mere two day hike, Jez flipped out. How could he possibly use this microscopic thing for our up and coming 5 day hike in Torres del Paines? It was simply impossible! There was only one solution. The backpack must be restored to its original condition and returned to the shop for an exchange. And there was only one person who could pull this off, his wife. She would scrub off the mud, soak away the the sweat stains, trim the fraying straps and re-attach the label. It was almost perfect and not a bit stinky! Luckily for us the poor lighting in the store sealed the deal and the staff were none the wiser. Jez successfully upgraded his Mini to the Kingswood station wagon of backpacks.

Bariloche

2008-01-20T03:08:00.000Z

To cut a long story short it was one hell of a schlep to get from Sucre, Bolivia down to Bariloche, Argentina.
Click here to see The Route. First prize goes to anyone who can figure out a pattern in our route (we are also eligible to enter this competition as we are also in the dark on this one.)
The race was on! We had to make it down to Patagonia before the small summer window closed, and this vast steppe returned to its normal inhospitable self. There was trekking to be done, penguins to visit and above all, we had to find out just how close we could get to Antarctica.
Bariloche was our first stop in Patagonia as we travelled from north to south. To our delight we discovered that our hostel was located on the beach front, affording a vantage of pink sunsets by dusk and the full moon by night.

In the winter time Bariloche is a Mecca for skiers. As an aside, why do we use that phrase? Do Arabs ski in the desert?
The largest slope is called Catedral mountain (the Spaniards saw Christian symbology in almost every natural feature). As it was summer we took a cable car up and then hiked back down.
**editor's note - it is safer if we offend everyone equally, so how about a Jewish joke? Why do Jews have big noses? Because air is free!**

On return to Bariloche we had a hearty appetite. I braved venison, but TZ decided to stick to what she knows and ordered a potato salad. My venison was great, but TZ was a tad disappointed by how literally the Argentinians take their potato salad. Half cooked, cold, slabs of potato with a sprig of parsley to make it really gourmet.

As Bariloche is in the heart of the lake district we decided to take a kayak out one afternoon. I was amused by the apparent boob job given to TZ by the life vest. I wasnt as chuffed when I realised it had the same effect on me. We were lucky to catch a completely windless afternoon (save for the effect of half cooked potatoes...). We could see every detail of the lake bottom, from the tree roots and stones to the trout that began to jump at twilight.

Another day we set off to explore the national park Bahai Lopez. We took a bus to one end of the park, spent the day meandering across and picked up another bus on the other side to return to Bariloche.

In the middle of the park we stumbled upon a golf course and then discovered a 5 star resort hotel called Llao Llao. We mustered the chutzpah to enter the resort in our backpacker clothes and enquired about the price of a room. The cheapest was US$500 and the prices went up exponentially from there. We told them our Personal Assistant would call to make a booking after we had decided between Llao Llao and our accommodation back in Bariloche, Hostel Bed Bugs...

Like Belgium, fine chocolate shops can be found on every corner of Bariloche's tourist centre. As dedicated tourists we took it upon our selves to extensively sample their range. Another little known fact is that the northernmost Patagonian glaciers can be found close by. We did the maths and realised that we could burn off the excess calories and see the glacier at the same time. Stay tuned for more...