Flirting with life

It's been a month since I arrived back in the UK after my 3 month long journey around South America. Despite a major culture shock on my second night back thrust into the world of weddings, fancy hotels and strangers not willingly to answer your questions, Jade's wedding day was the perfect way to celebrate home time. My week at home with the parents was delightfully restful and gave me a chance to embark on a much-needed organisation of photos. The post-travel blues are in full-swing now I'm back in London, although I'm not sure they ever really leave you. I would say it's been a struggle settling back into normality but I'm not quite sure I know what normality actually means - so I'll just say my crazy freelance London life is feeling particularly unfulfilling at present.

After being so far from home and all familiarity you'd think returning to your old flat, a few of your old jobs and seeing old friends would at least feel comforting. But somehow I feel more isolated than I ever did on the road, I'm not sure I belong here anymore, no one really knows who I am or what I've seen. No fellow travellers to share your love of exploring with. People ask 'how was your trip?', an impossible question to answer when you know a few polite words is all they're after - not even a thousand words can truly describe all the experiences I had.

After 3 months following a clearly laid out route my life suddenly feels rather purposeless and meandering, no path to follow or destination to reach - just the unavoidable need to earn money to base my decisions on.

Distance is a funny concept - you can be only the other side of a wall from someone and feel as if they don't exist (my neighbours for example). But you can also feel like you know every little thing about someone half way across the world. Physical distance is now of course eclipsed by technology and so I felt closer to my parents whilst I was on another continent, through regular FaceTime conversations than I do residing in the same country.

My top 3s

In this modern age of reviews, ratings and the oracle that is tripadvisor, I thought it only appropriate that I rate some of my best (and worst) experiences in South America for you. Of course every dodgy meal, crazy taxi ride, noisy hostel and interesting acquaintance - whether they stick out in my mind or fade into the myriad of memories - had a part to play in my journey so apologies for those that don't get a mention.

Hostels - your choice of hostel can determine your enjoyment of a certain place in every single way. It's your home for the night, the most likely place to make friends, find things to do, eat, sleep and 'sort your life out' as I often like to do. My top 3 hostels, although very different have two common attributes - the food on offer in-house was incredible and the opportunities for meeting people were endless.
1) Discovery Hostel, Rio - right from the word go - the friendliest staff, best free breakfast, the most interesting and open travellers that you could fit into such a small homely hostel, beautifully decorated and filled with things to do, bedrooms and bathrooms designed by a perfectionist. I continued to recommend this hostel throughout the rest of my trip.
2) Community Hostel, Quito - booked for 2 nights, stayed for 6. The only downfall of this place was you weren't sure who was staff and who was a guest but you soon got used to everyone being super chatty and helpful round the big dinner table as we tucked into stunning communal meals made by the lovely chefs. Luxury bathrooms, super fluffy pillows, perfect location right by the central
market and a tour agency downstairs completed the convenience package.
3) Casa en el Agua, Colombia - more of a static boat than a Hostel, despite only spending one terrifyingly stormy night in a hammock here it gets a mention for ridiculous uniqueness. Eating lobster fresh from the ocean around us, drinking coconut cocktails in the natural ocean pool, stargazing on sunlounger kayaks whilst lightning rippled around the horizon - a pretty epic experience if not the most comfortable or cost-effective.

Meals - obviously eating is an essential part of life, and often the highlight of my day wherever I am in the world but whilst travelling it can become an activity in itself. Having already done a whole blog about the cuisine in Peru you know this already. It's so hard to pick just 3 meals that stand out so I'll try grouping meals together.
1) Meals on the Inca Trail - tasty platters of trout, meat, salads, soups and hot breakfasts - all tasting Better than ever eaten under canvas after hours of trekking
2) Seafood in Lima - a super cheap ceviche lunch followed by a not-so-cheap baked salmon at Ponto Azul for dinner (lobster, prawns and whole fish in Colombia also deserve a mention)
3) Pizzas in Rio - as much as I tried to avoid eating international foods too much I went to some fantastic little pizzerias in Santa Teresa, Rio where unique toppings such as gorgonzola, ginger and sesame replaced the usual tomato sauce and pepperoni

Cities - many cities in the Andes had lots of similarities between them - with a main plaza, Bolivar statue, food markets, fabulous street art, Favela-like areas and some sort of hilltop viewpoint. So my top 3 are ones that stand out for one reason or another.
1) Rio - I had high hopes for this iconic city, and despite the not unfounded scaremongering about its street crime, it did not disappoint. The stunning landscape, party vibes and incredible people I met - and the fantastic experience living and working in a Favela - collectively give Rio a very special place in my heart. If the opportunity arises to go back I won't hesitate to do so.
2) Arequipa - bit of an obscure choice, a fairly small, lesser-known city in Peru. It was just a quietly beautiful place with a relaxed atmosphere, great restaurants, stunning architecture and volcanic backdrop.
3) La Paz - despite having the most lonely feelings and unfortunate events of my trip happen during my stay here I could still appreciate its uniqueness. In a huge bowl surrounded by snow-capped mountains with cable cars as their main form of public transport, this city has many other quirks. The Aymara women at strange market stalls that line every street and replace any form of supermarket, the San Pedro open prison and the backwards town hall clock to name a few.

Day-trips - my favourite way to pack loads of sight-seeing in whilst giving myself a break from the constant decision making and navigating whilst also a good chance to meet some brilliant people - mostly in the form of excellent tour guides. As my Ecuador blog would suggest my top 3 are all from that country.
1) Otovalo - not necessarily the most spectacular of trips but with visits to a biscuit factory, ice cream parlour, hat workshop, crater lake and the incredible arts/textiles market in between jokes and history lessons from Omar it was a fun day. I remember thinking on the drive back to Quito how lucky I was to be here whilst witnessing a fabulous rainbow.
2) Amazon - the most jam-packed day full of monkey petting, canoe riding, jungle trekking, Tarzan swinging, waterfall swimming, face painting, chocolate making and all with only one other tourist in sight! Despite not going far into the Amazon itself I felt very much off the beaten track!
3) Cotopaxi - another day with the brilliant Omar. Lots of travel but the most exhilirating hike up the highest active volcano and meeting some great characters makes it one to remember.

Adrenaline Activities - despite being fairly risk averse generally I do like to challenge myself to do some rather dangerous things whilst travelling - just in case the opportunity doesn't arise again. I managed a fair few on this trip - hang gliding, white water rafting and rappelling 72m into a cave don't even make it into the top 3 there were that many!
1) Snorkelling in Rio Prata - not quite a heart-stopper but 3 hours of floating down the clearest river you've ever seen alongside beautiful fish and aquatic scenery made for a completely unforgettable adventure.
2) Canyoning - abseiling down 5 waterfalls up to 30m high, learning how to set up the ropes with a guide practically to myself this was a very pleasant if slightly nerve racking way to spend a rainy morning.
3) Dune-buggying/sandboarding - this activity should have come with a health warning! Back- breaking bumping along the sand, terrifying drops over the brows of the dunes and the possibility of grazed knuckles, chin and winding after your sandboard hits you in the face (as I found out) were not advertised. However, it was possibly the most exhilirating and by far the longest lasting rollercoaster I have ever been on - with the bonus of spectacular desert views!

Experiences - obviously anything can be an experience but what I mean really is an extended part of my trip that felt particularly memorable. My top 3 probably won't surprise you, they were as good as expected if not better.
1) The Inca Trail - a truly magical experience, I couldn't believe how much I enjoyed the actual hiking and the group were all fantastic. I felt simultaneously supported by the guides and porters and yet completely free to stare at the hills and ponder my thoughts. Even waking up at 5am every day was weirdly enjoyable!
2) Volunteering in Rocinha - living and working in one of the most notorious places in the world and yet not feeling unsafe as I passed the guys hanging out with machine guns was a fairly unusual experience. Looking after very cute if rather naughty children and finding my way through the steep maze of alleyways, marvelling at the view of higgledypiggledy brick walls, cables and water tanks from our hillside house was just incredible.
3) Salar de Uyuni - the salt flats themselves were every bit as dazzling as the pictures suggest but the multitude of incredible landscapes we drove through to get to them over 3 days, with a lovely driver and great quartet of fellow travellers helping each other overcome the sub-zero temperatures and altitude sickness made me realise how fragile and inconsequential mankind can be in such an inhospitable but breathtaking environment.

Los Colores de Colombia

From its lush landscapes to its diverse population, its beautiful street art to its violent civil war - colourful is the best way to describe Colombia. Around every street corner there are fantastic murals in vivid hues, on every windy bus journey a blanket of vivid green covers the hillsides, salsa music fills the air around every food stall and shopping mall and in the quiet moments you'll spot all kinds of brightly coloured species from humming birds to birds of paradise. All this beauty does a good job   of distracting you from the terrible history the country is still trying to put to behind it but, thankfully, the tour guides are able to enlighten us naive tourists, as we marvel at the products of politically outraged artists and the architecture of regeneration projects within the cities, on the causes, effects and current attempts to end the modern world's longest civil war.

My first encounter with Colombia's love of colour came just 5mins after crossing the border from Ecuador. I hopped out of my taxi to find the most brightly coloured bus station, reminiscent of a game of Tetrus. My next taxi ride took me to the equally, if slightly more bizarrely, kaleidoscopic Sanctuario de Las Lajas - a cathedral built in a gorge due to a sighting of the Virgin Mary. The gothic building clinging to the side of the rock with a multi-coloured lit crypt was bound to light up as it got dark - and sure enough as I walked back up towards the road the whole building was bathed in ever-changing disco colours, like a giant fibre optic lamp.

The overarching, more naturally occurring, colour of Colombia is green. From the coca, coffee and banana plantations to the more wild cloud forests and even the water of the Penol reservoir - the green is so intense it has to be seen to be believed. And what better place to marvel at it than Salento, the sleepy hilltop village famous for its outlying coffee fincas, which I daren't visit for fear of bladder malfunction. This place was, nonetheless, a magically quaint area with more horses than cars, the tallest Palm trees in the world and green as far as the eye could see.

My next stop of Medellin - previously the murder capital of the world but now a vibrant city of orange brick tower blocks against a backdrop of forested hills - was where I had my first proper history lesson. Our guide explained the history of Medellin - it's geographically isolated melting pot of Basque and Jewish Spanish settlers that after hundreds of years of cooking time became a Paisa stew - a culture who felt different to the rest of Colombia. With the help of the international political colours of red (left) and blue (right) she summarised the civil war from the assassination of a red politician in the 1940s which led to the creation of red illegal armies (guerrella groups like FARC) which in turn led to the creation of blue illegal armies (paramilitaries) and a war between them, complicated by the drug trade from the late 70s onwards as drug lords paid each of these groups to guard their crops and so drug money fuelled more and more violence. The US waded in with PlanColombia, giving funding for each soldier killed which brought about the deceitful phenomenon of kidnapping homeless people, taking them out to the countryside, dressing them in army uniforms, shooting them and taking photographic evidence of their success against the drug gangs.

From this colourful history comes a beautiful bi-product in the form of street art, giving citizens a way to express their opinions, usually in clever pictorial form such as pineapple grenades, bugs with weapons as legs and piggy presidents. The now legalised activity has become not only a way to redevelop a rundown area, like the modest paintings around Communa 13s new escalator transport system, but also a good way to attract tourism (in 2000 Colombia received 50,000 tourists, in 2015 4million tourists came - thanks to rapidly reducing kidnapping rates and fantastic transformations of the worst parts of the cities into symbols of hope).  The incredible portraits, landscapes and cartoons covering the walls of Bogota are a sight to behold and the talent does not go unrecognised as we learnt on our tour - with many of the graphic design graduates going on to have international careers as grafitti artists, getting commissioned by public buildings all over the world.

For my last week in the country, and indeed on the continent, I had decided I wanted some beach time - since Ecuador taxi drivers and tour guides had been using the phrase 'vamos a la playa' to mean let's go (literally meaning 'let's go to the beach') and I hadn't followed their instructions once! The Caribbean coast of Colombia was a fine place to do so though. From the stiflingly hot yet picturesque colonial walled city of Cartagena to the wild jungle clad beaches of Parque Tayrona the natural and man-made beauty of Colombia was a constant treat. I became rather skilled at sleeping in hammocks after a night in 'Casa en el agua' - a hostel in the middle of the ocean where, of course, a thunderstorm raged all night as I attempted to sleep - after that the other hammock nights were a doddle. Between a few jungle hikes and walking tours I managed to fit in a fair amount of beach combing, snorkelling, soaking up the sun and enjoying the clear blue water from which the country's flag gets its blue stripe.
The huge band of gold at the top represents the abundance of gold that brought the Spaniards here (half of which seems to now reside in Bogotas eye-boggling Museo del Oro whilst the red stripe depicts blood - whether that be of the men who fought for Colombian independence, the African slaves brought over to work in the mines (and who are responsible for such a deep culture of dance) or the more recent bloodshed caused by the civil war, I do not know. It's sad that such a fantastic country has so much bloodshed to choose from and the white stripe of the recently rejected peace deal made a beautiful, if short-lived addition to their flag. I hope one day they can replace the red with white once more as our Medellin guide pointed out 'Better an imperfect peace than the perfect war'.

Day-trippin'

The last 10 days in Ecuador have been some of the most enjoyable of my whole trip thus far. I have completely fallen for this country - for its lush green landscapes, laid back atmosphere and incredibly friendly people to name but a few of its assets. This relatively small country is certainly a land of abundance with 84 volcanos (24 of which are active) a huge section of the Amazon as well as coastal lowlands, more exotic fruit than there are names for and more species of plants than the whole of North America. I learnt that Ecuador is the world's biggest banana exporter, second in the rose department with 24 roses costing just $2 and has a growing economy going from the 2nd poorest nation in South America to the 3rd most successful in just 10years since their dramatic switch to the dollar. I decided to take advantage of the small distances between the must-sees of the country and base myself in just 2 towns and day-trip my way around the country - reducing the number of packing and unpacking, hostel booking and bus finding situations. 

My first base of Banos was a welcome haven after my hideous 40hr bus journey - a tiny town set in a steep-sided jungle-clad valley with waterfalls at the end of every street - a South American Lauterbrunnen. I started with a self-guided trip to 'casa del arbol' - a famous treehouse overlooking the valley from which you can swing into the abyss - if you work out the correct camera angle. It was a beautiful place with an array of other swings, balance beams and zip-lines - a play park in the sky! 

The next day I had a near-enough private tour into the Amazon jungle - with only one other girl, our own driver and guide at our beck and call. We visited an animal sanctuary (for all the rescued-from-smugglers monkeys and ocelots), had a hair-raising canoe ride, saw the end of the road into the Amazon basin, hiked through mud and rivers, did a Tarzan swing, bathed in a waterfall, ate termites and ants, had our faces painted tribal-style by 8yr old girls, tried blow-piping and helped make our own hot chocolate straight from the tree! Hard to believe this was all in one day, right? That is the beauty of the organised day-trip - despite being a little more expensive than venturing out alone it generally grants you a multitude of activities you just wouldn't be able to fit in when having to navigate from place to place yourself. 

However, I did attempt this feat a few times in Ecuador as travelling on public buses is just so cheap ($1.25 per hour) although my travel companion on my outing to Mindo (a village in a cloud forest with a fab butterfly park) had her money stolen from her bag by sneaky snack-sellers that got on the bus and took her bag to the back without us noticing. After this, I splashed out on an organised tour to Volcan Cotopaxi - the highest active volcano in the world. It was well worth the money, as the fantastic tour guide Omar was worth his weight in gold, his energy, knowledge and cheeky personality keeping everyone entertained on the bus journey. We hiked up to the refuge at 4864m in hail and on slippery volcanic sand and then attempted to mountain bike down (I gave up after the first corner - Omar hadn't been joking about this being for experienced riders only). 

I ended up spending the following 2 days listening to more of Omar's fascinating histories of Ecuador and its politics (7 presidents in 10 years and they've tried to kill their current one) as I took more day trips to Quilatoa lake (a crater lake formed by the melting of a glacier as the volcano it sat upon erupted and collapsed) and Otovalo (an arts and crafts market where I overloaded my backpack with fantastic textile purchases). 

Oh and let's not forget the equator, the country's namesake, which I stood upon not once but twice on different day trips from Quito (proof that the Incas knew this was the centre of the Earth too as Quito means middle in Quechua). Ecuador, ofcourse, is not the only country on the Equator but the Andes give it a distinct advantage as they can use volcanos as reference points for sunrise and sunset points at the solstices and Equinox. I visited a fab sundial that had lines for every time of year, corresponding with exact locations of Inca settlements, and a huge vertical column in the middle into which the sun shines directly at noon on each Equinox day and your shadow disappears for 3mins - shame I wasn't there for one of those - did see the water spiral in opposite directions on either side of the line though. 

The day-trips, interspersed with relaxing days, great food and brilliant hostels, and, of course, lots of conversation with tour guides, taxi drivers and fellow travellers, left me planning my next, longer, trip to this stunning country as I said goodbye. Might need more than a day for the Galapagos though. 

Fatty but happy

I doubt this will come as a shock to many of you but a huge part of any travel experience for me is the food! Nowhere has this been more true than in Peru. I have to admit that, after the culinary delights of Asia, I wasn't expecting much excitement from South American cuisine - just a lot of rice and beans. Ofcourse there have been plenty of meals accompanied by those 2 staples (and some form of potato too) but whilst hopping around Peru, on my hop-on hop-off bus, I've realised that this country, in particular, has a lot more to offer the palette than the infamous Guinea-pig.

As soon as I crossed the border into Peru I went for the first of many evening meals out, in Puno, and had a delicious slice of Alpaca with apple sauce and wine gravy - almost a roast dinner! My second taste of the tender, lean meat came in the form of Alpaca steak 2 days later, in Cusco - cooked to perfection (medium-rare) and accompanied by mushroom sauce and interestingly seasoned broccoli. Other traditional Peruvian dishes I sampled once or twice include Aji de Gallina (chicken in a yellow pepper sauce), Lomo Saltado (like beef stir fry served with chips and rice because why not?) and Ceviche (raw fish and seafood marinated in lemon juice and onion served with giant corn and a sweet potato - it's delicious, honestly) but only on the coast to eliminate freshness concerns.

On the rare occasions when I felt I could let the inner-gringo out and go for something totally un-Peruvian, I was pleasantly surprised by the quality of the international food such as a fantastic vegetarian Indian sharing meal and a classic pesto pasta which (unlike elsewhere) wasn't fluorescent green slop. The service at this particular restaurant, however, left a lot to be desired - the first waitress getting our order very wrong due to not understanding her own specials board, the second one trying to take my plate whilst I was still eating (you can imagine my reaction), bringing us extra drinks, taking them away and still charging for them. Thankfully this was an exception to the rule.

In between all these meals I did manage to squeeze in some non-food related activities such as white-water rafting, dune-buggying and a speed boat trip to the bird metropolis of the Ballestas islands - all of which had their own element of stomach-churning! For a less adrenaline-fuelled activity Peru provided a plethora of free/tip-based walking tours in major cities such as Cusco, Arequipa and Lima. After a little bit of history and some photo opportunities, inevitably the tour always turned to food - Peruvians' favourite subject. We would visit local markets to admire the exotic fruit, juice stalls (there were always atleast 10 ladies waving madly from behind a blender) and sample the local delicacies such as the 'queso helado' - literally cheese ice cream but actually more like cinnamon and coconut flavour. On the walking tour in Lima we even got a full 3-course meal at a local restaurant for the grand total of 12soles (£3), by far the cheapest meal in Peru and possibly all of South America. Another common theme of all these walking tours was the promise of a free pisco sours. Only one out of the three actually followed through with this and also gave us chicha - a traditional fermented corn drink that tasted like gone-off jam. I much preferred the zesty pisco sours made with tequila-like pisco, lime, sugar, egg white and cinnamon.

As I ventured up the coast towards Lima I was treated to a free pisco vineyard tour, near the town that gives it its name. This tour, unlike the previous day's Nazca lines viewing, was not a disappointment thanks to the most enthusiastic guide you could ever imagine. His caricature presentation as he showed us the vineyard and cheeky  inuendo whilst sampling wines such as 'perfecto amor' were a delight. His explanation of Peruvians love of sweet wine, sweet drinks and all things sugar was music to my ears (and tastebuds) and his 'fatty but happy' description of his countrymen the inspiration for this blog's title. My sweet tooth had certainly enjoyed all the desserts on offer (naughtily just having a pecan tart and ice cream for dinner one night) and even the Inca cola which people had warned me tourists never like. Despite its urinary appearance I thought it rather delicious though not quite as good as lucozade which is yet to make it to South American shelves. There were all manner of other 'inca' snacks available such as inca corn (giant roasted corn) and inca chips (banana chips) although I'm not sure if any were actually consumed by the Incas. I had a fair few 'Machu Picchu' pizzas and sandwiches on tourist menus too.

Peru is certainly one very proud country, both of its cultural heritage and gastronomy - so who cares if the inhabitants are a little bit chubby!

Hurry Porter and the Inca Stones

Juan Carlos, our fantastic guide on the Inca Trail joked that the porters, running up and down the path, were 'Hurry Porters'. This sparked an unlikely comparison in my brain. From the rugged mountains to the magical ruins, the food served on silver platters to the old fashioned train ride - my experience of the Inca Trail didn't seem that different from Harry Potter's first adventure at Hogwarts.

It got off to a bumpy start as I overslept my alarm by an hour and rushed downstairs from my chipboard bunk (one could even call it a cupboard) in my pyjamas to find Marco (a clean-shaven Hagrid) waiting for me. After brief hysteria dressing, packing my bags and checking out in 5mins flat I was on my way to the mystical land of the Sacred Valley. Marco became my guardian angel for the trip, as I had proved I needed one, always making sure I was ok and organising a suitable tent mate for me, as I was the only solo female on the trip. 

The 4 brilliant guides were our teachers, my 17 fellow trekkers my classmates - all Gryffindor for sure. And the amazing porters made very good house-elf impressions, their weathered faces aging them far beyond their years. Their tiny little bodies carried way more than it seemed possible and they worked  tirelessly between each day of trekking to put up our tents, prepare our meals and clean up around us. The food was out of this world - far beyond usual camping fare. We had platters of trout, chicken curry and beef stir fry (all traditional Peruvian cuisine when given their proper names - truta, aji de pollo and lomo saltado) avocado, beetroot and potato salads, a soup and desert with every meal. The 18 of us sat around a long table with striped tablecloth, silverware and even candles under a canvas roof with the 4 guides at one end - not quite the great hall but a pretty good substitute and still with a magical quality as we emerged each evening after dinner to find a brilliantly starry sky complete with llama constellation. 

By day, as the landscape transformed from river valley, to barren mountain, from tiny villages to lush cloud forest, and we walked through a misty haze occasionally parting to reveal our next destination, it did feel as if we were on a quest to find a missing puzzle piece or even a horcrux. But ofcourse what we actually discovered was a variety of Inca ruins, each one more impressive than the next. The granite stone walls fit together perfectly with no mortar, built to withstand the frequent earthquakes in the area, and the building layouts and decoration were often based on the Andean representation of the Cruz del Sur (or Southern Cross), a little bit like the Deathly Hallows sign. We learnt about colcas (storage rooms), different functions of terraces, their viaducts, the astronomical temples, the sun temple, and its windows that correspond to the 2 solstice sunrise positions, and the chasquis - the Inca messengers that could apparently run from Cusco to Machu Picchu (128km) in 6hours - I reckon they must have had a portkey! I, on the other hand, chose to take the trail at a much more sedate pace (with no travel buddy to keep up with) and, as the last of our guides kept telling me, it was a walk to enjoy and connect with the spirits - not a race. I took this advice to heart, unlike the rest of my group, and made it to Dead Woman's Pass (4200m) 10minutes after the rest but feeling rather refreshed actually!

After 2 days of walking through the clouds, the third day's 3000 'gringo-killer' steps downhill were a revelation as we emerged into a stunning jungle-covered valley with sharp ridges, waterfalls, orchids and more inca sites of the most gravity-defying terraces. We camped on more terracing with vertical drops right outside the tent door, giving the impression of floating in mid-air - broomstick style.

The final flourish of the trail, trekking to the sun gate for sunrise and our first glimpse of the famous Machu Picchu, was followed by a tour of the site itself. Although it's phenomenal setting in the hanging valley reminded me of Hogwarts, perched on top of the mountain, the atmosphere was more like the Quidditch World Cup - thousands of spectators queueing for a spot in the stadium, only to be herded around in a one-way stampede! I made a hasty exit after
being reprimanded for doing a handstand - as though I'd sent the dark mark into
the air rather than just my feet.

The trip was rounded-off with an old-fashioned train ride complete with brass luggage racks, lampshades and complimentary at-seat service of snacks and cocktails. No chocolate frogs though I'm afraid! 

You're hot then you're cold...You're up then you're down!

Since leaving the relative familiarity of Brazil it has been a rollercoaster of highs and lows in emotion, altitude and most noticeably temperature. There have been mind-blowing views, epic journeys and great friends made but all too rapidly they have melted into cold, lonely moments when I've wished the ground would swallow me up as we go our separate ways. 

My first long bus journey on my tod, travelling over 1000miles from Brasil to Chile in just 2days, got off to a shaky start as my 2nd bus journey e-ticket had failed to arrive in my inbox. Arriving at a busy bus station in Argentina in the dark I managed to explain, in dodgy Spanish, and pay some money to have my ticket printed - phew! I was rewarded with the most luxurious night bus for the 2nd leg of my journey. If I ever fly first class I imagine it will be rather like that bus - fully reclining leather seat with no neighbour, hot meals and wine served by very friendly butler - and a great British film! 

Another up and down day broke up my 2 night bus journeys as I went on a working ATM hunt in a very grey Salta. My hunt was in vain as apparently money is not needed on a Sunday. Things soon turned around as I met an Aussie couple who very kindly gave me cash to get me through my day in Argentina and so I was able to visit a very interesting museum displaying a preserved Inca child sacrifice - not so great for the child admittedly! The following night bus may well have been trying to preserve me as the oxygen level and temperature plummeted as we rose 2000m through the Andes to San Pedro de Atacama - the driest desert on earth! 

Getting fairly lost finding my hostel, having a banging headache from either altitude or too many buses and being chatted up by various travel agents on my arrival in the little town left me feeling rather vulnerable but a great steak sandwich and observing the stars of the Southern Hemisphere and inspecting the moon, Saturn and Alpha Centauri through telescopes soon made for it. The next day I finally met a nice guy who wasn't trying to flirt with me to accompany me for a day of exploration. There were tough ups but fun downs and looking around on my bike trip around the stunning desert landscape of Valle de la Luna followed by a float in Laguna Cejar - cold on top, hot on the bottom - defying the laws of physics. 

The highlight of the past few weeks was also one of the most physically testing parts of my trip so far. Driving into the frozen landscapes of the Edouardo Avaroa reserve - the snow-capped volcanoes, different coloured, flamingo-filled lagoons and bubbling geysers were incredible but the negative temperature and 5000m altitude was not so pleasant. Sleeping at 4500m in -15c with no heating (6 blankets and 5 layers of clothing) was a challenge but the great company and card games certainly helped. Despite this cold there were still moments of warmth in the brief thermal springs dip and getting into the roasting jeep after every photo stop. Our lovely Bolivian guide's apt musical choices such as Coldplay's 'so high' and Shakira's 'try everything' also helped keep my mind off the frequent desperation for the toilet - The Bolivian economy is definitely boosted by their campaigns to make you drink lots at altitude and then charge more than London train station prices to use barely functioning, few and far between toilets with an extra fee for that luxury that is loo roll!

After 3 days touring the altiplano and the Salar de Uyuni the emotional highs were abruptly cut down in Uyuni itself by the realisation I had lost my bank card, had no cash or phone battery and protests across Bolivia were preventing buses leaving for most destinations in the country 

After sorting out the situation with a little help (well quite a lot) from my Italian friends, blocking my card and finding a night bus to La Paz, things went from bad to worse in the worlds highest capital city.

It's energy, markets, Aymara culture and mountainous setting certainly intrigued me, maybe a
little too much as I decided eating at the local food stalls and going up the cable car to the poor area of El Alto were both good ideas. Ultimately, I had my camera stolen and ended up with food poisoning for the next 5 days. One of those days I wish I could repeat to make completely different decisions. My next destination of Lake Titicaca was pure paradise at 4000m - deep blue lake, huge cloudless sky, a barely inhabited island (just a few Aymara with their donkeys and llamas) - unfortunately tainted by my stomach cramps and weakness from being so sick.
Looking back at all the photos I've taken in Bolivia I'd definitely agree with the statement that travelling is only glamorous in retrospect, as your memory, and your Facebook albums, hide all the cold showers, hot-tempered bus drivers and luke-warm food. But maybe all the lows make the highs just a little bit higher. 

Water Wonderland

My last 2 weeks in Brasil, despite the disappointing group trip, have been filled with a multitude of aquatic activities and stunning watery views that have constantly caused me to marvel at the world and its water cycle and all that it enables, whilst getting very very wet! 

We started off in colonial paint-job perfect Paraty, my last days on the Atlantic coast before I slowly make my way to the Pacific. I was determined not to let down Lou's voice in my head, no matter what the temperature, and so, after much deliberation, I jumped off our sailing boat and swam to the little island we'd stopped by - I marvelled at the beauty of the little beach up close and even managed a lap around the boat before re-embarking. The next day I went a step further, and many degrees colder, as I built up the courage to set off down the natural slip'n'slide of Cachoeira do Toboga. Why is it that water feels so much colder when you inch your way in (as I attempted pre-slide) rather than just taking the plunge, as it were? 

Our next destination was a more sedate affair, admiring the Pantanal's wetland rivers and rice paddies - the perfect habitat for a diverse range of wildlife. Whilst on our serenely paced horse-rides, truck drives, boat trips and canoe paddles we saw mixed-race cows, marsh deer and capivaras (world's largest rodent) in abundance as well as various parrots, Falcons, storks and kingfishers that our local guide Victor was particularly good at spotting.  We found a few giant ant-eaters (the strangest animals ever), caiman and even an anaconda but most impressively of all we caught sight of a jaguar - twice! Even the tour guides got excited as they'd been here 6 times and never seen one. You might wonder how such an array of different animals could all inhabit the same area, but with the open fields, marshes, jungle and waterways, adding in the wet and dry seasons and the natural symbiosis of so many of the species it's not so surprising - 'Water - the giver of life' exemplified! 

Next stop was the aptly named town of Bonito, where we got up close and personal with the life within the water. The limestone in the surrounding area create a highly filtered river called Olhos d'Agua (eyes of water) which we floated down whilst gazing at the world below in crystal clear technicolor. I could barely control my excitement, the snorkel and my hired GoPro all at once - I felt like I was filming a David Attenborough documentary - so many beautiful fish and underwater landscapes we aren't often able to see. Another other-worldly sight awaited the next day as I put my adrenaline-junkie head on once more and decided it was a great idea to descend 72m on a little rope into Abismo Anhumas - another fine product of collaboration between water and rock. As I rapelled down painfully slowly (it really hurt my hand to
keep squeezing the mechanism) perspiration added to the total volume of water in the cavern. The lake below was considerably colder as I found out on our spooky snorkel among the giant stalagmites. The formations both above and below the waterline were so peculiar (one shaped like Gollum another like a screaming woman) it is hard to believe they were all formed by the slow drip of good old H2O. 

Good old H20, in its sheer abundance on the other hand, again with a little help from rock formations (it's partner in crime), is to answer for the last stop on our tour - the mighty Iguassu falls. It's fairly hard to put the sight of that much water falling all around you into words - everywhere you run, whichever way you turn there is another  thundering flume of white water to behold. With more waterfalls than u could possibly imagine, it made me wonder how on earth all that water can have fallen out of the sky and flow into the sea without flooding the earth? I do remember learning about the water cycle at school and understand the theory but when confronted with only one part of the cycle - it's utterly baffling! As the lyrics 'don't go chasing waterfalls' rattled round in my head I thought - what terrible advice from TLC there, i had the best 2 days doing just that. 

I realise I have given my Facebook (and your news feed) and aqua overload this week but if you haven't seen my latest albums - go check them out! 

Wish you were here!

This post is less of an account of my travels and more of an ode to my previous travel buddy - Louise Vernall. Her energy, enthusiasm and ability to make any situation fun would be a breath of fresh air, in  this desert of personality and get-up-and-go I am accompanied by on my Dragoman group tour.

Having paid lots of money to meet a big group of like-minded people and go camping and camp cook -  I'm instead stuck with 4 quiet people I have very little in common with for the next 2 weeks, staying in upmarket hostels and being forced to go out for expensive meals to make things easier for the group leaders. The usual perk of group tours having your itinerary planned for you has not been forthcoming either - with the 2 leaders swanning off to a spa, leaving us to find out about, decide on and carry out our activities - with me leading the way, reading the map and doing the talking (in pigeon Portuguese). I have most certainly inherited Dad's leader/can't sit still gene!

Mums 'every penny counts' gene is doing overtime as I stress at every service station, supermarket and restaurant where I am pressured into buying food and drink I didn't even want. The money I've spent the past 4 years scrimping and saving to build up is not, in my head, to be spent entirely on rubbish Italian meals and bottled water we were supposed to have been supplied with. If Louise were here I'm sure we could have survived off bread, cheese and biscuits but alas I have had to embrace the luxury - it won't last once I'm out on my own again.

But unlike four years ago, I won't have Louise by my side making me laugh no matter what. I have frequently been excited as I see a play park/swimming pool before remembering that Louise isn't here to play with me 😩 I have had her voice in the back of my head as I question whether or not to jump in the sea/go down that waterfall saying 'go on, do it'. And I'd have had someone to dance with as I stumble across country music festivals or lively samba bars, rather than dancing on my own.

As we drive through a life-size Settlers of Qatan board (well atleast wood, brick, wheat and sheep) I long for someone to play eye spy or linking lyrics with. Atleast I have Lou's music downloaded onto my iPod to break up the bucket loads of quiet reflection time I've been getting on these long journeys. I imagined having lots of time to think on night buses later in my trip. But maybe when I am 'alone' and free to meet whoever I gravitate towards I will be less alone than in this small crowd.

A Carioca - At home in chaos!

It's now been 3 weeks since I arrived in Rio, and I'm back where I started in the most friendly, beautiful home away from home I could have asked for - Discovery Hostel. It is an oasis of calm and comfort in the chaos that is Rio de Janeiro. I have lived in a favela, in a cave-like hostel in Copacabana and the hammock strewn paradise of Ilha Grande but I've always found my way back to this glorious hostel in Gloria (an area of Rio).

Venturing out from the hostel into the 'Cidade Maravilhosa' is a whirlwind of traffic jams, frantic construction of new infrastructure ready for the Olympics and protests regarding the upcoming games. The sand castles on the beach emblazoned with 'Welcome to Rio' have been parodied by the protesters with 'Welcome to Hell' and 'Welcome to Chaos' banners as they admonish the onlookers against the corruption of the government, the lack of funding for education, the low police salaries that leave tourists vulnerable to crime that goes unpunished.

Leaving the confines of the city behind the traffic becomes less grid-locked but more 'dodgems' as the undertaking and tailgating increases in speed and frequency. The obsession with tickets, vouchers and wristbands continues as you book boats, buses or metros - buying a ticket from one person to then hand it directly to the person behind them. Nothing compares to the convoluted systems in nightclubs paying for discount vouchers which you hand over to receive a ticket, which is then traded for a wristband. Drinks are ordered from a cashier booth and a voucher is then redeemed at the bar. Cash often proves a problem in other transactions as there seems to be a universal lack of change in Rio. I've often ended up paying by card for a bottle of water costing R$2 as my R$10 note would be looked at with disgust. It is rather ironic considering large purchases such as accommodation, transfers and tours booked through hostels always seem to be cash only - forcing you to withdraw large sums from cash machines, at vast expense due to withdrawal fees not to mention personal risk.

Somehow though, I have got used to these little nuances, navigating the public transport network, haggling at street food stalls and searching for specific items in the market. The currency is starting to become familiar and I am recognising streets (saying this I did get lost in Santa Teresa and kindly escorted half the way to the hostel by a kind local yesterday). After 3 Friday nights out in Lapa, the last one feeling confident enough to find my own way to a club I'd been to before, with 2 teenage friends in tow, I have fully experienced the energy and party vibe people rave about. It is certainly infectious as you watch the professional samba dancers, attempt to join in and get whisked off your feet by local Forro and Salsa dancers until 4 in the morning (Louise Vernall you would be proud of my late nights). Having had more time than I really needed to see the main tourist sights my pace has slowed right down this week and helped me recover from my 'daycare' cold. Thankfully, the extra time has meant the chance to find activities that I might search for in London such as a fab private capoeira lesson and a contemporary dance class at Deborah Colker's studio that just happens to be next door to my hostel - so I haven't become a complete couch potato. Unfortunately the opportunity  to become a beach bum has not been apparent thanks to a sudden cold patch of weather - the Cariocas (Rio locals) don't know what's hit them! Not feeling quite like a Carioca myself thanks to my ability to cope with the cold and my appalling attempts at Portuguese, I am beginning to feel like if I stayed here long enough I could become one.

The sights and sounds of Rocinha - and other sensory experiences

As I lie in bed the first sound I hear is the low hum of the air conditioning (a luxury I didn't expect to find in a favela but am very grateful for considering the 32degree heat today). Beyond that I hear the incessant dog barks and, tonight, the wails and clapping of the local churchgoers. The intermittent buzz of a phone receiving a message indicates the presence of wifi (another unanticipated luxury) as the sound of a fellow volunteers snores gradually fills the room.

 A few hours ago the thumping bass of Brazilian funk music reverberated between the makeshift brick walls of the favela houses as I sunbathed on the roof of our beautiful, sticks-out-like-a-sore thumb house and watched the tiny little kites flutter above me (a now retired signalling system for the drug dealers who run the favela). Last night the sound of gunshots and fireworks, the new and less weather dependent signs that a meeting with the drug lord is taking place or that the police are coming, pierced the air that was otherwise filled with babies cries.. This is a place where man and beast, tourist, drug dealer and child live in a strange harmony. Funnily enough, despite the obvious criminal activity, as a tourist you are far safer here, where you are protected from the dealers guns by their aim to keep a low profile, than in Rio itself where tourists are targets for street muggings. Nevertheless, the contrast between the innocent little girl I was helping down the uneven steps from the playground and the gangster with a machine gun walking, impatiently, behind us was a stark and disconcerting one. The contrasts continue as brightly coloured  walls of graffiti (decorated by a British guy and his enterprising art project) of words like 'esperanca' (hope) and 'paz' (peace) and the faces of Nelson Mandela and Muhammad Ali frustratingly juxtapose with the haphazard alleyway cement floors complete with potholes, dog dirt, a tangle of pipes and wires and the occasional tidal wave of waste water (Dad, your plumbing expertise are what's needed here).

The layout of the 75,000 inhabitant favela on a steep hillside and its aforementioned alleys make for a 'feel the burn' sensation like no other whilst lugging your backpack, supermarket shopping or daycare donations up the good 200 steps. Wafts of raw sewage, rotting garbage, garlic and weed alternate as you descend into the main town centre awash with bakeries, bars, beauty salons and even a gym. The abundance of street food stalls makes for a delicious snack to fuel your inevitable ascent, my favourites being churros (you know the long donuts filled with chocolate) and acai sorvete (a sorbet made from acai berries). The food at the daycare has also been worth the climb with big helpings of meat and veg served up for lunch with the staple rice and black beans. A few more oranges wouldn't have gone a miss considering the projectile snot emmisions from the majority of the  daycare's children and the horrid cold that all the volunteers have developed accordingly. Their big brown eyes and cheeky personalities have just about let them off the hook for infecting me though. As much as I enjoy  their company and the opportunity to immerse myself in Portuguese (and learn my colours, numbers and various silly songs) the volunteer project itself is annoyingly inefficient and unorganised with little schedule or direction of what we should be doing and no real interest in using the skills we could offer to enhance the childrens' experience. Only by chance did I get to teach an English lesson when the resident English teacher was away. For once I felt useful for my knowledge of teaching and my native language rather than for my ability to put on shoes, clean teeth and wipe bottoms.

In between daycare hours there has been  plenty of siesta time to enjoy other things the favela had to offer; the breathtaking hike up Dois Irmaos (a double peaked mountain above with a stunning view of Rio) and the must-do Rio activity of hang gliding. Ofcourse I felt the need to run off a mountain and get a birds eye view of the favela I've called home for the last 2 weeks and get as close as I could to flying like a bird, coming in to land on the local football pitch otherwise known as the beach. Besides drugs the favelas of Brazil's biggest export is professional football players, with a rumoured 900 players a year emerging from favelas - a figure I can believe judging by the lively football pitches of Rocinha, day or night.

One final sound of the favela to mention is the imaginary 'Big Brother' Geordie voice over in my head as I compare sharing a 4 bed dorm with 6 girls  - 2 of whom did not get along - with the reality TV show. . 'Day 4 in the Big Favela house - some of the girls are in the cramped bedroom struggling to find their clothes,  the others are on the roof terrace having a heated debate about drugs.'
Despite the difficult living conditions and frustrations with my role at the daycare I have thoroughly enjoyed my time in the favela, being part of a poor, corrupt but on the whole happy community and meeting some inspirational locals and foreigners alike, working to improve the favela in whatever way they can.

Going with the flow in Rio!

After a fairly bumpy taxi ride with my new mate Connor (we got asked to get out of the taxi at a petrol station after he'd told me of his friend who was held at gunpoint by a taxi driver) the check in at the hostel was very smooth. My plan to nap when I arrived went straight out the window as there was free breakfast (including incredible banana cake and eggy bread) in half an hour and fellow travelers,arriving that morning, to get to know.

An instant group of solo travelers formed, all looking for someone to explore the city with and, it seemed, we were all either very easy going or interested in similar things and so my suggestion of doing a walking tour of the old city was quickly taken up and an impromptu stroll to the nearest beach (Flamengo) was proposed to fill the time before it started. I felt quite proud of myself for being so spontaneous within the first few hours of my trip.

The first day continued to whizz by (considering I still hadn't slept since leaving home) as our guide, David, from the hostel showed us around Lapa and the historical centre as history - including a large amount of European facts we probably should have known - flowed from his mouth. The Escadaria Selaron (the iconic tiled staircase in Lapa), the Novo Catedral (like a 60s tower block crossed with a Mayan temple) and the Palacio Tiradentes (the old Houses of Parliament) were particular highlights as we ran after David and lost a few dawdlers on the way. The tour ended with a ride on the 5-day-old    tram built for the Olympics and a meaty feast of Churassco (grilled meats with rice, chips and a sprinkle of salad - a cursory nod to healthy eating). I was rather pleased with Rio so far!

Disappointments soon followed in the form of a cloudy, dull copacabana beach and a walk along it that ended abruptly when one of my companions had to fight off a guy attempting to rob her necklace. At this point going with the flow felt like more of a necessity, as I went along with a walk down a stormy looking beach for fear of going it alone back to the hostel. The inevitable flocking together of solo travelers can also prove inefficient, I've already found, when waiting for everyone to
be ready to leave or getting everyone through a ticket barrier.

But it does make for a fun night out, as I discovered on my first night. The free-poured hostel caipirinhas were followed by an escorted walk to a club in Lapa with David, where more caipirinhas helped us find our flow on the dance floor. We were a great dance troupe - each of us with an individual style and when the samba dancers arrived both the girls and guys couldn't wait to shake their thing with the exotic half naked vision of a woman! Unfortunately I don't have any pictures of the night to illustrate how beautiful she was or how fast her footwork was as, as a precaution, we were told not to take our cameras or phones. (Great advice considering the one guy who ignored the advice got mugged by a transvestite).

The night out was anything but a let down and the main tourist attractions I accomplished in the next few days followed suit. The view from Christ the redeemer was worth the crowds we fought through/stepped over for our selfie-taking exploits and my meander around Santa Teresa with Martina from Slovenia was charming, in part, due to our lack of a good map forcing us to amble through the quiet streets and stumble across the faded mansions we'd read about. A spontaneous trip up Pao de Acucar (sugar loaf) was squeezed in when Martina realised her flight left Rio in 3hrs as we walked past the bus stop that lead to the cable car up there. Despite the hazy view of the city it was a fun ride above the rock climbers and beaches below.

After all this hopping on and off buses and metros and a great introduction to collective solo travel I felt ready to venture out alone for the first time. Just me and my backpack made it to my next hostel in Copacabana, via the metro and a confusing convo with a local whom I gathered was offering to help me find a room. I checked in, found a supermarket and wandered onto the beach only to bump into the other girls, i'd briefly been introduced to the day before, on the sand. My solo travel plans were out the window and impromptu friend-making began once more.

N.b see my 'Discovering Rio' album on Facebook for accompanying pictures, trying to add photos to the blog has taken atleast an hour and still not working!

Flying solo

As Louise put in her farewell Facebook post that made me cry at the airport, I am indeed 'Flying Solo'. I had been trying to distract myself from the idea of leaving my friends and family for the next 3 months whilst I sat in my packed up room Thursday morning as my sub-renter unpacked into it. It was only I got to the airport that it hit me and I hesitated for a few minutes before checking in my beloved backpack. The fear factor had  definitely kicked in, replacing any excitement or feigned indifference from earlier in the day. I couldn't even bring myself to take a so-long selfie, for fear of looking ridiculous! I called home (as is my wont when feeling nervous/angry/upset) and realised it won't be that easy to find reassurance when I'm much further from home.

My mild fear of flying added to the plethora of emotions as I boarded the first plane and Adele's 'Hometown Glory' shuffled onto my iPod as I took a long last look at Heathrow (and the ensuing traffic jam of BA planes. Heathrow isn't exactly my hometown, but it represented London - the place I've called home for the last four years, and will likely miss, despite its flaws - 'memories are fresh, oh the people I've met'.

Next through my headphones played the classic David Gray lyrics 'Sail away with me, what will be will be' as the plane took off and I longed for Louise, my long-time travel companion to appear in the vacant seat beside me. I had a little tear before trying to distract myself with writing this blog - not a great distraction admittedly. A better distraction from my feelings was the Lufthansa factor - leather seats, leg room and ofcourse the free snacks - a welcome change from my recent flights with Ryan air and Easyjet.

Then my iPod died - so no more song lyrics for now! But I found a friend at Frankfurt airport who happened to be staying at the same hostel as me in Rio - what are the chances?

No longer flying alone, and with the knowledge that I had someone to get to the hostel with, the second flight was much less nerve wracking, despite it taking me thousands of miles from home. But really the hard part starts when you land, all you have to do to fly across the world is decide to get on the plane.

I've got a little list

This time next week I will be boarding a plane on my own, for the very first time, and a plane to the other side of the world at that!!!


My mixed emotions regarding the trip are increasing in equal measure as I try to prepare for the fast-approaching adventure. I'm rereading my guidebooks and tour information, getting very excited about all the fun things I have planned whilst giving myself less and less time to pack up my room, eat all the food in my fridge and tie up a lot of loose ends with my various jobs, hence increasing my stress levels. My love of list making is not helping as I spend my time thinking of more and more things to add to the to-do list and therefore don't get anything already on it done!


But this blog has been on my agenda for a while now, as many of you have been asking for a thorough breakdown of my travel plans - as you well know I can't help but plan ahead, so here goes:


Here's my little list, of things never to be missed!

30th June depart Heathrow - 1st July arrive Rio de Janeiro

1st - 3rd July - explore Rio, staying at Discovery Hostel
                        - try Samba, capoeira, go up Sugar Loaf mountain, visit Christ the Redeemer, tour
                          Santa Teresa, Lapa, central Rio and maybe even a hang glide over it all

4th - 16th July - volunteering at Rupa Souja daycare centre in Rio's largest favela - Rocinha - 
                            with a weekend on Copacabana beach

17th - 22nd July - find my way to Ouro Preto for a trip down a gold mine and maybe see Sao Paulo

22nd July - 6th Aug - Overland camping trip through Southern Brazil with Dragoman
                                   - boat trips, paddle boarding and more water sports in Paraty
                                   - epic journeys in this machine

                                   - 3-day Southern Pantanal wetland safari
                                   - Bonito for adrenaline-fueled caving, kayaking, abseiling down waterfalls etc
                                   - View the mighty Iguacu falls from both sides, maybe below, maybe above

6th - 8th August - a mad dash across the continent from Iguacu, Brazil to San Pedro de Atacama,       
                             Chile with a quick stop in Salta, Argentina

8th - 10th August - San Pedro - star gazing trip, geysers, lunar landscapes of the driest desert on earth

10th - 12th August - Bolivian salt flats 4x4 trip - more crazy landscapes and cold nights

13th - 19th August - up through Bolivia possibly visiting Sucre, Potosi, La Paz (world's highest
                                 capital city) and Lake Titicaca (I thought this was a made-up name for comic
                                 effect in a GCSE drama play)

20th - 23rd August - Inca Trail to Machu Picchu, Peru with Bamba
                                 - 3 days of hard core hiking, camping and then seeing sunrise over Machu
                                    Picchu

24th August - 1st Sept - the rest of Peru
                                     - Arequipa, Colca Canyon, Nazca lines, Ballestas Islands, Huacachina, Lima

2nd Sept - 14th Sept - Ecuador
                                 - Devil's nose train ride from Riobamba, Volcan Cotopaxi, the Quilatoa loop
                                   (which should really be in a sci-fi movie, lets be honest), Banos hot springs, a
                                   trip to the Amazon, Quito, the equator, Mindo cloud forest, Otovalo market

15th Sept - 28th Sept - Colombia - definitely squeezing all this in somehow
                                   - Salento (coffee region), Medellin (arty-farty not druggy), Cartagena and Santa
                                     Marta on the Caribbean coast, Parque Tayrona (where the jungle meets the
                                     ocean), pretty villages like Barichara and finally Bogota

28th Sept depart Bogota - 29th Sept arrive Heathrow

(The closest I can find to my route if you ignore the

 orange bit and Buenos Aires)

 

As you can tell this itinerary has been 4 years in the making (and I've been kind and glossed over many of the finer details, if you can believe it) but apart from the activities in bold, which I hope are fixed seen as I've already paid for them, the rest is more of a wish-list than a set-in-stone schedule. Who knows where time restraints, new friends, weather conditions and unforeseen circumstances may lead me.

But whatever happens at least I will have more fun getting through the places-to-visit list than the things-to-do list I'm currently struggling with!

On the road again!

I'm finally brushing the dust off my backpack to complete the route I had originally set out for my round-the-world trip in 2011/12, exploring the only continent (well, excluding Antarctica) I've never set foot on before - South America!

Since moving to London in 2012 this trip has been on the to-do list but after four years, of studying, trying to make a living out of dance and unsuccessfully trying to persuade friends to travel with me, the time has come for me to bite the bullet, put my fears aside and go it alone. Whilst I have no spouse or permanent work contract tying me down, no house or children to pay for, I thought I better embrace the freedom that comes with 'not quite having it all figured out yet' and so I made up my mind that on my 26th birthday I would book my flights to Rio, as a rather expensive birthday present to myself. And that's exactly what I did!

In the first few weeks immediately after my flight purchase I engrossed myself in tour brochures, travel blogs, hostel websites and, of course, my already much read Rough Guide, to plan out my route through the continent and pick a few key activities to book in and get excited about. I plumped for a volunteering project in a Rio favela, a camping/overland group tour of Southern Brazil and the world renowned must-do of South America - the Inca Trail (more details of my plan to follow on my next post). After forking out for all of these trips upfront, as well as paying for travel insurance, vaccinations and essential bits of kit, my thoughts turned to that very wise piece of advice I heard before my last trip:

 “When preparing to travel, lay out all your clothes and all your money. Then take half the clothes and twice the money.” – Susan Heller

And so, in an effort to double the money that I'll be willing to spend whilst away, the past few months has been a constant battle for work - although as a freelancer this is always the case - as I pushed my weekly earnings goal to a whopping £300!!! I've taken on 5 new fitness classes per week, most of which I am teaching by the seat of my pants with the help of youtube tutorials. I've signed up to plenty of promo agencies, promoting Baileys, Vitality Health Insurance and, ironically, STA Travel, with whom I booked my trip. I've said yes to cover teach whenever I can and have certainly racked up the domestic travel miles: legging it round London from class to class and hopping all over the country on tour with Experiential Dance. My final push to earn lots of dollar will also include a trip to Milan to perform with my cheerleaders. I travel to earn money so I can travel some more!

Throughout all this, my trip has felt like a distant speck on the horizon but it is now fast approaching - I FLY 3 WEEKS TODAY!!! Preparations are cranking up a notch as I faff about with the finer details like whether or not to pack my epilator (have decided against I think), the ever-troublesome question of how many tops to take and teaching Dad how to Facetime and Whatsapp on his new iphone, could be interesting. I think I went a little overboard on the travel toiletries and gadgets shopping, as you can see below, so my second practice pack may be an even tighter squeeze than the first! But i will endeavour to remove a few items as a nod to the wise words above. Anyway, I best get on, classes to teach, travel money card to sort out and final rabies jab to offer my arm for.