What to you after you see more aussies in a week than in four months.... Sorry Mum and Dad

An economic powerhouse of the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the capital of Argentina, Buenos Aires has the culture, architecture, and style of a French, Italian, or Spanish city. Magnificent monuments of conquistadors, generals, independence heroes, and presidents; Gradiose european styled buildings and apartments; Vendors and markets hawking the latest fashion; and an elite that would make a burnsidian feel like a dirty old aussie derro. This city proper, far removed from the poverty of South America, and even the poorer suburbs of Boca and the like is firmly orientated to Europe.

After awe inspiring beuaty of South America, endless hikes, and a thousand old churches, what can I say....

Take BA, add backpacker hostel, add bar, add ten aussies, add heat, add the festive season and you can probably guess what happened next. With special mentioned to Blue and Ryan, a seven day bender, shaming any footy trip weekend at Melbourne with a litany of steaks, brews, vino´s, music, and parties. A traditional Christmas Eve dinner of Chinese takeaway at the hostel was followed by at a dance party that started at two, got kicking at three until we left after five. The after party, starting at 8am Christmas day held captive two of our aussies mates who duly arrived for Christmas lunch around 2pm.

Joined by Johana from Finland and our aussie bretheren, we dragged ourself towards Recoletta for a hearty Christmas steak and then afternoon / evening at a chilled little wine bar.

Today a BA lite, the impressive, but slightly run down city of Rosario is a pretty city holding a smiliar population to that of home. With a cost of living a third or a half of BA, the riverside city loses only a little culture, with a cafe of every street, street vendors and buskers in the main, monuments, impressive buildings, and the first house of Che Guevara.

It´s like a hurricane. You can see it coming from a mile away, you see the storm building on the horizon, you can feel it´s breeze before it get´s there, and when it gets there, it rains down on you. It´s as simple as that.
I always knew this feeling was invetiable. The night before it was going to come. Several hours in the shade, waiting your turn you know it is just around the corner. On your way up, your thinking it should be here by now. But then, the door is opened at it is time. It grips you like it never has before, you try to conceal it with a wry smile to little effect. These guys do this and see this every day after all. This fear, this gut wrenching fear is unsurpassed as you are about, or are expected to jump 3000 metres out of a moving plane.

Thankfully, these guys are old pro´s, even if they only provided a three minute safety talk prior, after all, what can you expect for $OZ150 anyway? Asked to move my feet out the door momentarily laspses my panic, but now I am truly scared. However, my partner grinding me into position, I realise the choice to jump is now not mine. The first seconds contain only panic, the next few joy with a scream of elation, then I can relax as I´m falling screaming and shouting down to earth over the next minutes. Absolutley FANTASTIC. Before I know it, the shoot is pulled and we float and I guide our parachute over the city, with a couple of spins and turns until we land on the field about five minutes later. I must say, that much adrenaline is coursing through your veins causes the concept of time to become meaningless. I could have last one minute or ten?!?! It was fantastic, you must do it and do it soon!!!

Cable tv, thongs, and parilla

Described as far from the world cup of tourist destinations in the lonely, we were far from disappointed or suprised by our stay in Rio Gallegos. At worst, it´s a bus stop. At best, it was a chance to sit on the bed, watch a bit of cable, and enjoy a bottle or two of vino with cheese.

Entirely beyond me are the reasons for the only flight out to Buenos Aires leaving weekly at 1:30 in the morning on a Tuesday.

After a day in Buenos, you get the impression this is a city anyone could live in. Perfect weather for t-shirts and shorts, nipped down the mall for a new pair of thongs. You pinch youself when even the bad cuts of beef are cooked with the tenderness and dedication of a $30 steak. A couple of nice regional beers to soothe the heat and decent cheap argentinian and chilean wine. The streets are home to fabulous 19th century architecure and ample shopping and markets to keep Beth happy for weeks. It´s a world away from the stunning landscape and often brutal weather of patagonia.

Plastic fantastic, Belinda Carlisle, and the return of the Wayanns Brothers

Location, location, location. Fortune surely smiles of the citizens of El Calafate. Strategically located between three pristine tourist attractions, the majestic El Chalten, Torres del Paine parque nacional, and it´s own Perito Mereno, it is a major Patagonian pit stop on the gringo trail. Unfortunately, this all comes at a cost, the plastic boardwalk is surrounded by fancy restaurants, tacky and over priced souvenirs, over zealous hotelier's greeting every bus arrival, more good old fashioned southern cone price fixing, and enough gringo´s to make you vomit in your cafe prepared Cesar salad. Stay one night, see the glacier, and hit the road.

One of the few remaining advancing glaciers in this carbon addicted world, the three hour visit of ¨just¨ a simple old glaciers is sublime. The setting is both beuatiful and peaceful in los glaciers parué nacional. The sounds of the glacier cracking under the enourmous pressure of the 60km glacier and the anticipation of witnessing the crumbling and disintegration of the edge provide for a magnificent afternoon.

Perhaps the 80´s pop star playing loudly in my sister´s room was
right.... Heaven truly is a place on earth, it´s the humble country village of El Chaltén, only slightly tainted by the trail of the gringo´s. A haven for trekkers and climbers alike, the scenery is magnificent, dotted with ample glaciers, lagoons, mountains, valleys, rivers, and waterfalls. By far not a winter desination, the populations plummets by half to 800 with the threat of six hour days and endless wind, snow, and rain. The imminent paving of the road to El Calafate threatens to reduce this town into a heartless, money hungry town, reminiscent of El Calafate.

With the sun shining and the wind at a minimum, the twenty hour days were enjoyed a minute at a time. Starting with a six hour hike, our travels provided unparalleled beauty with only a trickle of tourists. A gruelling twelve hour day of hiking, ice trekking on the glacier, and climbing ice walls rewarded a unique experience and ample views. A little sympathy, home cooked pasta, and another quality bargain basement Argentinian vino went along way to recuperating those sore and tired old joints.



Finally, our trip to Rio Gallegos was greeted by the return of a Wayanns brothers on the fantastic Tasqa bus.

Glacier heaven, the mother of all assumptions, and a vampires worst nightmare

Certainly by Andian standards, the ten hour trip to Puerto Monnt was deluxe to say the least. Semi reclining seats, blankets, heating.... we almost had it all, but for a lack of a vintage van damme movie. Arriving at the small harbour city with a thriving salmon industry and the gateway to pictureque Chiloé islands one would think it´ll all be fairies and apples. However, with our wallets trembling against a resurgent Chilean economy we ate simple and small and caught the next place to Bariloche.

Now, assumption being the mother, I´d assumed that Balmaceda was simply the airpot name for Bariloche, ala Schipol or Heathrow..... How wrong one can be. Hmmm....I think I took a wrong turn at albuquerque. Anyway, picturesque as it was, Coyhaique (Blamaceda) was not Barilcohe, an hour South instead of east landed us in a backwater, and offseason at that. Flustered, cold, and in distinct need of a beer, we regrouped at a local hospedaje before booking the next flight to Punta Arenas relinquishing the fading plans that were Bariloche.

Well below Australia and South Africa, and a smidge south of New Zealand, Chile and Argentina host the beuatiful and often inhospitable land and waters of tierra del fuego and Patagonia. Vibrant fishing, petroleum, and tourism industries are the mainstays in the midst of never ending summer days and endless winter nights. Rising at 04:00 and setting at 20:30, only a devoted clubber or night worker would ever see the sun. The tempreature hovers between 10 and twenty during summer with a howling wind, contant threat of rain, hail, and even snow. On that information alone, you´d wonder why hundreds of thousands visit each summer. Well, we will start with penguins, antartica, hundred´s of thousands of untouched beuaty, 60km wide glaciers, ski, fishing, and trust me, loads and loads of hiking.

Only the third most southern city in the world, Punta Arenas lacks that killer attraction of it´s surroundings but more than survives as the major port and tourist hub for the region. Featuring a stunning colonial heart but surrounded by dull city of 100,000, the signs of affluence are appearing.

Now, these ain´t my finest hours of travel planning, but anyway, we hit the road to Puerto Natales the next day for storied Tierra del Paine parque nacional. Oh... and we did enjoy a nice but expensive dinner with stunning chilean wine, krill, lama paté, a bit of cervicher, and the pun inducing beaver ... mmmmmm

I do miss the nicities and humour of the good Andiian folk.

Housing a whole lot of tin sheds with a few nice brick buildings, Puerto Natales was not much more than supper, planning our hikes, and squelching on a few promises of business to a hostales and a tourist operator.

Never forgetting a promise, I take Beth up on three nights camping in Tierra del Paine parque nacional; Apparently the seven prior nights without electricity in the jungle and the andies were not enough. Like everything Chilean, the parque was expensive and the advice given by Path@gone was anything but handy.... Neverthless, over three days, we camped, cooked our own food, and hiked the W over sixty kilometres up two mountains, viewing several glaciers, many lakes, and some of the most stunning scenary I have ever seen. It was fantastic, but oh my god, it was tough. Day two alone involved hiking 27 kilometres in 9 hours.... After our recent travels, the timing was perfect for nature and your own thoughts.... Although I kept disturbingly getting late 80´s and early 90´s songs stuck in my head.

The Argentinin Peso, how I do love currencies pegged to the stumbing american dollar. Next stop, El Calafate.

The last of La Paz, a two buck fitty haircut, and a dodgy vindaloo

Our last days in La Paz succumbed to the temptations of cheap touristy travel in one of the world´s cheapest destinations...... Artesenal shopping galore, continental delicacies, and a hotel room with cable TV and an en-suite. Street vendors offer their wares at any time and any place, rarely defined by the boundaries of a market.... Prices are so cheap, you barely raise a sweat in only knocking them down a dollar of the miniscule price. Genuine FC Barelonca for $15 with a fake made to custom fit for $5. A finally, a hair cut to match my father´s for world cheapest due..... $2.50 numero dos para todo de mi cabeza



After the Chilean economic miracle, Santiago can truly combine the bueatyh of rich colonial past with a modern city of subways, sky scrapers, and a standard of living unsurpassed in South America. Unfortunately, that´s all I can say, as after a particularly hard night on the turps and a bought food poisoning, little experience or knowledge was garnered.... luckily, we´ll be back in a month.

Tiahuanaco, Coca, the world´s most dangerous road, and what do you mean our tickets are cancelled

Passing through the urban sprawl become city el alto, we overlook the remarkable valley and city of La Paz. The border of snow capped mountains deliver an unparalled background and the world highest ski slopes. Breathtakingly 3,600 above sea, all foot travels suffer the effects of the altitude; where suicide is the term used by visiting football teams and lethargy and shortness of breath are common. Catering for between 1.6 and 1.8 million inhabitants it holds the power and privelledge of Bolivia, if not the official capital status. Incomparable to Lima or Quito where style, grace, and culture is interwined between poverty, street sellers, and open sewers. By far the cheapest destination thus far, a superb lunch for two with drinks is $5 unless you roll the dice on a friendly street vendor.

A trip to La Paz is not complete without a visit to the coca museum. Used by pre-columbian civilisations to adjust to altitude, reduce hunger, physcial increase output and as a basic anaesthetic, it was declared a path to the devil and banned by the church. After discovering it´s properties the colonial goveners overturned the ban and made it´s used by indigenous slaves mandatory in the mines to foster ¨shifts¨of up to 48 hours. At one point, it´s per kilo value was greater than gold. Avoiding the known history of the drug wars of the 20th century, Bolivia today legally produces coca for traditional uses, although much is diverted to neighboring countries for the production of cocaine. Interestingly, Bolivia is not one of the roughly a dozen western countries that can legally produce cocaine.... Also coke still uses coca leaves for flavour.

A visit to the pre-incan ruins of Tiahuanaco produced a tour guide garnering conjecture as fact and a site that after restoration may one day rivial Machu Pichu.

Reviewing the logistics of our impending travel, we head down to the local LAN office to book an early flight to Santiago. Much to our suprise, the officer, who we´ll call Juanita, informs that all of our forwarding tickets have been cancelled due Iberia, which we already loathed, incorrectly altering our flight changes we requested in Spain..... dumbasses... Our shock compounded by the knowledge that all of our future flights were fully boooked raised the old blood pressure just a tad. Luckilly, Juanita was up to the challenge with a wink and a nod a quick phone call secured our passage on the aforementioned flights.

It´s a wonder what boredom can ¨force¨ you to do. After daily knockbacks for an early flight and ingorning some fatherly advice, I booked passage by mountain bike on the Coroico road. In 1995, the Inter-American Development Bank dubbed the road ¨the worlds most dangerous¨ where a fatal accident is not uncommon every fortnight ... Starting early and high in the Bolivian Andes with white knuckles from the cold and a hearty grip of the handle bars, we embarked down a 64 kilometre, single lane, mountain hugging, waterfall disecting dirt and stone laden road descending 3,600 to the warmth of the sub tropics. One thing is certain, the fantastic setting would have been much greatly appreciated if my knuckles were not so sore two days later.

Cusco, Puno, and Lake Titicaca

After recovering from the hike and the odd celebratory drink in cusco for a day we hit the road for Puno and Lake Titicaca on a tourist bus ....... Local bus six hours, tourist bus nine with plenty of gringo stops and not even a 1980´s van Damme flick to pass the time. Worst bus ride ever!!!. At our designated feed trough, you were even charged for $1 for milk with coffee.

Our main purpose to utilise the harbour of Titicaca severly limited our exposure to the small city of Puno. A couple of gringo restaurants, bycicle taxi´s.... and oh yeah, Beth seems to think I am responsible for hangovers of the tour guide and a fellow travellor´s ?!?!?!?

Straddling Peru and Boliva 3,812m above sea level, Lake Titicaca is the largest lake above 3,000 metres covering 8,372 km². With two distinct ethnic groups, Quecha and Amayra, with multiple cultures over the 42+ islands, it has much to offer. Attracted in part by the name and the famed Uros people who reside in floating islands constructed with reeds, we departed on a overnight trip to visit several islands and a homestay.

Our first stop on Taquile and the last on one of the Uros Islands, although touristy and annoyingly so on the latter, still presented interseting insights into their cultures. The men of Quechan Taquile both farm and knit with all dressing according to their social position and marital status. Initially constructed to flee the constant fighting on the mainland, the Uros islands hold over 3000 Aymara on over 41 floating reed islands forming the Uros Islands. Each housing up to 10 families on each.

But not all was lost.... We arrived at Amantaní island for the homestay with expectations of a slice of local life, a family without English or Spanish, and a game of football (soccer). Disembarking, we ascended another 300 metres with Olga, the hostess with the mostess, welcoming us into her two story mudbrick home with introductions to her family of five. Fortunatly, Spanish was known and we conversed on the favourites.... Football, Kangaroo´s, the weather, and work. Misinterpriting Olga´s after dinner request to change in our party clothes, we headed up stairs and waited for her to escort us to the fiesta. I´ll let the picture tell the story of what she actually said.



Cerveza´s, music, dancing with our hosts to fifteen minute songs were the theme of the fiesta and all who partook enjoyed a memorably experience.

Random Thoughts
= I´ve had ¨Copa Copacabana¨ stuck my head for the past week, as the famed city, which is neither north or hotter than habana, inhabit the shores.
= Bolivia maintain an active Navy in Lake Titicaca despite it´s landlocked status.
= Residents of the Lake pay no taxes leaving one to suspect the government wants to retain the locals as the tourist attraction removing any reasons for economic migration.
= A few games of football were enjoyed on Amantani, which at the altitude, is not easy. Holding up the defense whilst my Spanish and Scottish team mates scored goal after goal the competition was flattened.

Machu Pichu

During the height of the Incan Empire, Machu Pichu was constructed in 1450, as one theory holds, as a city of religious importance. After three years of brutal Spanish rule, the puppet king, Manco Inca strategically fled Cusco for Vilcabamba bypassing and essentially hiding the nearby Machu Pichu, which was only 30 kms away. Even after the last Inca (king) was drawn and quarted or strangled, the whereabouts of the city where never revealed. It is thought the 1000 inhabitants fled to assist the assults of the Spanish. It was only in the early 20th century, it was rediscovered under the forests by workers of the railways who pillages the vast silver and gold, and notably by the Hiram Bingam in 1912, who pillaged over 3000 artifacts for private and public museums in the states.

Built with all the beuaty of remaining Inca sites, walls and terraces are constructed through hand polishing original mountain rocks and stones without mortar, but so precise that sunlight can not penetrate even the joins of a gardeners house.

Each morning, the sun gate shines sunlight through a window of the Temple of the sun, which at one point, illuminated a sacred object. Massive terraces produced coca, potatoes, maize, and orchids with Soil brought from a 1000 metres below. An impressive sundial directly between Machu Pichu and Wiynam Pichu mountains marks the equinox.



After one of only a few hundred who reach the site by hiking each day, it is easy to feel a sense of ownership when surrounded by the hoards of tourists who arrive by train or bus each day and only grasp a fraction of the story. Although we are by are wide and far not experts, if you do come, ensure you hike one of the many Incan trails.

It is apparent that for reasons of ignorance and racism, most students educated in areas with small indigenous populations have little or no knowledge of the Inca´s or Machu Pichu.

Cuy, Parasites, snow, rain, and steps, steps, and more steps

Although uneventful, our last day in Lima saw the addition of the local delicacy, cuy, to my list of gastronimcal feats. Although as difficult to eat as quail, with the same number of bones and limited meat, I found guinea pig very very tasty.

The ancient city of Cusco, pronounced Kosko, is the oldest inhabitated city in South Americam founded in 1100. As the centre of Incan power, holding 300,000 pre=industrial inhabitants, it oversaw an empire streaching from chile, through bolivia, peru, argentina, ecuador, and southern venezuala. At it's height, the empire of 12 million were experts in agriculture, architecture, textiles, and gold and silver metallurgy. Unfortunately, the viceroy's are celebrated for their bravado and the incan empire relegated to a footnote in most peruvian schools. Today, the city encorportates the same population, but with obvious spanish colonial western influence that befits any tourist haven.

Unfortunately for me, I spent my first three days holed up in the hostal with parasites in the stomach, a throat infection, and a head cold..... nice. In the next day, I will attempt to explore Cusco.

With the throat infection starting to clear and a determination not to spend the four days with the hump up, we set of to the starting point of the celebrated inca trail. One pit stop included a stop at a local indigenous villiage. Their existance is modest, but deep in tradition and culture. Opportunities are limited, with men working the trail as porters and the women tending the farms, children, and weaving. A change in fate is only through education generally leading to tourism.

Spending a night Ollantaytambo, we visit the local ruins. Description to come....
One a side note, I first hear of the qualities of grilled alpaca, later consumed resting is cusco.... Tastes like kangaroo.

Health slightly improving, the troupe of twelve set of with our walking sticks, coca candy, coca leaves, ponchos, irrepresible guide washington, and 18 porters. Day one revealed many incan trails, fortresses, highland forests, rivers, creeks, indigenous communiuties, farms, and six hours of moderate hiking. Arriving at camp, we are greeted by our tents setup, a hole in the ground, and a fantastic dinner of fresh trout.

Day Two can only be described as a slog. 8 hours straight hiking, 16 kilometres starting at 3200 metres to 4200 at dead women´s pass, then back to 3600 was a day of scenary. Forest, tundra, glaciers, and dwarf forest. After settling in for the night, roughly five degrees below, it rained from 8pm to 8 am.



Day three we passing two mountains and incan ruins whilst our porters literally ran the trail in sandals carrying twenty kilo´s on their backs. Very difficult terrain to walk with a stick, I´m positive channel seven will start a new series called ¨When porters fall down¨. The camp site reveals our first shower and beer in three days.

Day four, wakeup call at 4am, hiking from 5:30 we rise to the sun gate, ominously lacking sun, to await the sunrise to shine on Machu Pichu, illuminating the temple of the sun.

And then we saw Machu Pichu....

Clog food, smog, and free beer

Meeting many a sole (pun intended) bagging Lima, we arrived just before midnight with little to no expectations. Arriving in Miraflores, the Beverly Hills of Lima, we are greated by all the trimmings of a modern city. The streets are safe, convenience of the neon signs, four and five star apartment blocks, and even a golf course. Only the divide between rich and poor matches our surprise of finding a suburb with a standard of living equal or greater than that of upper middle class Adelaide.

The opulence of the colonial buildings and plazas of the heart of Peru is contrasted by the unsafe squalor of it's surroundings. Unemployment is high and many denizens barely eek out a living selling wares for twenty or thirty cents. The inhabitants of can not even boast a nice climate, with range of 15 to 25 it never rains, although the ever present smog provides the illusion of impending rain.

Gastronomically fantastic, the local cuisine is as cheap as it tasty. Paella, the clog pleasing Cerviche, hearty meals of beef, chicken, or lamb, and an abundance of seafood.

Bunked up at $15 per night we have free beer, spirits, internet, and the redundant access to musical instruments.

LAN Airways by the way, is fantastic.... leather seats, some legroom, hostesses who smile.

As far as the Australia Electoral Commission are concerned, traveling and voting do not go hand in hand. The process could not be more painful.

Rubio, Poverty and random thoughts on Ecuador

"Rubio, Rubio, Rubio" be the call that resonates through the streets of Quito, the highlands, and the jungle. Standing roughly five or six inches taller than the average equadorian barely recieves a glance compared to that of the Blonde haired Beth. Although the machismo of Ecuador is rated as tame, even walking with me she garner´s many a look, greeting, the ubiquitous rubio, rubio, and stops many a conversation in it´s tracks. That said, she is safe walking the streets.

Quito and Ecuador as a whole presents so very little in opportunities for many in quality of life, education, and health care. Many children, as young sell wares of ice creams, chewing gum, or water on the streets and buses throughout the day. All stores and restaurants are over staffed. The only explanation for their continued prosperity is the minimal wages for staff.

Random thoughts:
= One way streets greatly assist the flow of traffic throughout the city
= Ecuadorian horns are versitile. Displaying disgust at the bad traffic or a driver, a call by taxi´s for passengers, saying hello to friends, indicating a change of lanes their noise is ever present;
= There are relatively few damanged cars on the road considering the chaotic scenes of peak hour traffic;
= The local fare is hearty but often plain;
= Only eat chinese food in China or Australia;
= Many great civilisations of Ecuador and their people have and are suffering;
= The locals wares are often made from centuries old techniques and of very high quality;
= Only eat from dirt cheap local restaurants or expensive, by Ecuadorian standards, western restaurants;
= The UNESCO world heritage listed old town is reminiscent of Europe and has the soul to match;
= No computers exist that allow you to use the bloger spell checker;
= Although you feel safe, you have to wonder about the hundreds of security guards stationed at resturants, banks, pharmacies, and bars hold loaded shotguns; and
= Come to Ecuador, either loop the country or use Quito as your base.

Insatiable greed, shrunken heads, and the hobbitt at middle earth

A walk through colonial old town delivers numerous pictures of 500 year old colonial buildings, churches, cobbled street, museums, and soul of this metropolis. Independence square reveals the ubiqitous street vendors, political rallies and protests, museums, and many a citizen enjoying the sun. A feature in the museum of art celebrated the life of Andy Warhol with thousands of photos, sculptures, videos, and music. The man, who only ever wore green underpants, was truly amazing.

Although many beautifull churches were built over the conquered Inca templtes, one of note is is brimming with over two tonnes of gold. The doors, walls, ornaments and scultpures are all covered. The opulence is inconceivable. Given the suffering in the streets and countryside and the incalcable suffering of the incas at the hands of the spanish colonials and the church, you can not help but feel disgusted at its decadence. Thousands upon thousands died either in the conquest or the hellish mines to fill churches, palaces, and coffers of the coloniasts and kings of Spain.

On a lighter note, we travelled 16kms north of Quito with a troupe of backpackers to see the City of the Middle Earth aka the equator. Although shared with numerous contries, the backgrop of the Andes is unique, where all other countires provide rain forrests. A pre incan civilisation, 1000 years ago, determined not only were they at the centre of the earth, but also the precise tilt of the earths axis, 23.5 degrees and the precise position of the equator. Quito literally translates to Middle Earth. Considering a 19th century French surveyor calculated the equator as 300 metres to the South, which houses a giant, plastic, and celbrarted monument, only disproved by G.P.S, it is truly amazing. In addition, a series of monuments were built hundreds of kilometres apart marking the equinox, soltices, and equator with precision.

The real middle of the earth housed a rustic, dust covered museum that was truly both informative and entertaining. A display of indigenous housing demonstrated how each tribe adapted to their unqiue landscape, jungle, mountains, beaches, desert, or lowlands. One in particular historically burried the wife with a dead husband. Several tribes, reportedly only historicaly shrunk the heads of the fallen enemies. After deboning, a recipe produces a head the size of the original owners fist. At the equator, several interesting feats are demonstrated. Water drains clockwise and anti clockwise on the southern and northern hemispheres respectively, but straight down on the equator; I balanced an egg on the head of a nail; and gravity is slightly and noticeably weaker, and yes, you do way less ladies.

The weather outside is miserably whilst Beth tries her luck at a local hairdresser.

Denzel Washington, a lodge with no (little) beer, paddle, paddle, and more paddling

After the 8 hours on the bus and five more waiting for our mestizo guide Wassington, the countries reponse to Denzel Washington. We travel by taxi for two to three hours over mostly dirt roads into country barely touched by agriculture and only recently by oil. We enter the Parque Nacional Cuyabeno by motorized canoe and travel for another two to three hours to reach our final destination, the jamu lodge. Located in dense jungle with the temprature topping thirty eight with high humidity, it naturally lacked the all basic mod cons .... hot water, electricity, and most disturbingly of all, low supplies of the local pilsner to combat the exhausting heat.

The activities, a mixture of well planned and shambolic, are easily delineated in the following catagories.

Fishing.... As the only naturalist on the two fishing trips, I secretly avoided catching any fish in contrast to other ravenous tourists who easily pulled in numerous paranas and other local fish, including a 30cm parana by Beth. The trip to and from these fertile zones was an arduos two or three hour paddle in wooden canoe, either in the heat of the midday sun or the mosquito and bat clad, darkness of night.

Nature hikes.... Hicking through mud, swamps, often seemingly impenatrable terrain, and once at night, produced a vast array of flora with som interesting fauna. Many trees and plants provide purpose to the indigenous community, from trees to sound out an S.O.S, plants for the bites of snakes and spiders, termites to protect against mosuiqtios, ants just for their bitter taste (personally licking three different types from their trees), and even a life long protection against malaria. The night hike, looking for massive spiders, although no tarrantulas, boa constrictors, caymens, and various insects was educational and quite daunting in the heart of the jungle armed with only a few flash lights and a steve irwin esque guide.

Indigenous community .... The villages, who fortunatly own title to their oil rich land, recieve periodic gifts of electricity, phones, running water in an attempt to butter them up for a future acquisition or deal with the oil companies. Although extremely remote, the locals, often with eight children, appear well nourished. The few modern commodoties afforded to them by the oil companies hasten their move from the local traditions. The lack full year tourismo positions provides a dispora to the oil companies and cities in search for employment and the advantages of convenneince. After making some rather tasty papaya bread we visit the local shaman. A interesting man who informed us on his heritage, struggles with finding a sucessor, abundance of medical plants in the forest, and his hallucinigencic drinks which he consumes three times a week to help with diagnosis. It must be said of such a learned individual, his pet dog suffered disturbingly from malnutrition.

After the arrival of cold beer and a handful of aussies, we enjoyed an afternoon in the hammocks, a swim, and an unsuccesful search for an anaconda.

With several more days in Ecuador, we will explore the old town and perhaps hike the volcano, Cotopaxi.

Welcome to the jungle, we got fun ´n´games

After a few days resting in Quito, we hit the road at 10 O´clock last night for the bustling Oriente oil town of Lago Agrio. Nestled near the border of Columbia, it produces two unexpected side effects, the positive of excellent Columiban coffee for Beth and the negative of a safe haven for Columiban militia. Thankfully, we have avoided a caffeine free morning for Beth.

The highlight of a night bus is that you don´t see the other cars, cliffs, dodgy dirt roads, and questionable driving as you descend roughly 3,000 metres from the Andies to the jungle. The downside is a favourite ecuadorian past time of reclining your seat back for a nap, whilst reducing the ability of the passenger behind to move. Anyway, after 8 hours of thinking of DVT with the odd bit of sleep, we arrived at this 35 year old town 4 hours early at 5;30am.

Although this is remote, we leave at ten via car, motorised canoe, and finally hike to our jungle retreat for five days with no hot water, but thankfully a bar stocked with the local firewater, Zhumir.

Enchanted Isles and the Ecuadorian Ghengis Khan

If you think you've kept up with the jones's and have the best camera on the street, leave it a home and buy the most brand spanking accessorised camera money can buy. The Galapagos are a dream; environmentalist, photographers, biologist, and every single average Joe will wet their pants at this 3 million year old story of evolution.

The father of all this beauty is a geological hot spot, roughly 250 square kilometres, smack bang in the middle of the pacific. Over three millions years, islands have formed both below and above the sea, lifted up by the tectonic movements, and importantly, move 8cms a year west. The product, an array of islands, each with a unique composition of minerals that produce landscapes that vary both large and small. The landscape over the current dry season, is often reminiscent of a 60's martian show. The flora and fauna, especially those restricted to land, have each evolved to suit their individual habitats. The finches will have different size and shaped beaks, the tortoises varying size necks and noticeably different shells, the iguanas sized and coloured. Even the plants can have different characteristics.

Time being the restraint in jotting an essay on each of these magnificent animals, I will attempt to provide the highlights.

Tortoises are the land based cousins of sea turtles. Hunted to near extinction by pirates and fisherman, only 13 of the once 16-17 endemic species remain. Although conceived and hatch in the wild, they are reared in a controlled environment to avoid the introduced pests of dogs, cats, goats, rats and donkeys. With the passing of five years, they are strong enough to withstand the attacks and released to their home island, never releasing hybrids. The life can span 200 years.

The sea turtles, which I have proudly swum with around twenty are the most graceful creatures of the seas. Like all animals in the Galapagos the lack the ingrained fear of humans, the product of millions of years of isolation. With all the attention you pay these animals, they only care if you invade their personal space, generally 2 metres. With many, we literally swam and observe from this distance for up to ten metres, watching them swim, feast, fish feast of their algy covered exteriors. We even managed to watch their mating from a boat over the last day.

The ubiquitous seal lions are a delight. The pups inquisitive and playful, the adults whom you encounter in the sea will swim around you for 5 seconds before retiring to chase a reef shark or iguana. The bull, master of a harem of up to 25 females fights every day to save his place in the sun. The losers, attempt to usurp a bull every four months, the unsuccessful, retreat to losers corner.

The iguanas, marine, land, and the sterile hybrids occupy each island feasting on cactus or algy. Seemingly stone statues, they spring to life at the sign of a freshly fallen cactus leaf, their bodies are warm enough to fish, or the are being chased by a seal.

Also sighted and enjoyed, but shamefully reduced to footnotes are a small amount penguins and dolphins. The finches, albatross, American oyster catcher, heron of the bird world. The lava lizards and rarely seen snakes round out the major list.

Oh.... And finally, the boobies. Hooded, red, and our favourite the blue are the oddest of creates. The walking befits the movements of a penguin, the mating dance a series of timed movements highlighting the plumage whilst attracting potential mates, the hunting a series of dives from 30 - 50 metres in the sky picking our sardines up to five metres below sea level. The boobies, and their cute blue feet acquired after three years, are a favourite.


Finally thoughts and notes..... The captain of our boat was a spit for Chopper..... Countless tourist, unimaginably loud and rude, but thankfully not present on our trip should not be granted this priceless privilege. They will get back home and drive their suv's / 4wds, whilst chugging on another burger in a Styrofoam container........ Although decimated, it is of pure luck that they have survived the ravages that the rest of the planet has endured from humans ........ The locals, especially the unemployed fisherman are often the forgotten story ............ We though our tour company, gap, were a let down......... The crew and guides were fantastic ......... Swimming a 6am in the sea is a treat ............ When we're old and at least I'm grey and if we're lucky, we'll visit over the wet season.

Attention all and former Dillon's, you have a new sacred pilgrimage that you must perform before you final breath.... The Mongolian and the Ecuadorian equivalent of the Genghis Khan , the mongo.

Captain Danger, Richard Nixon, Baños, and the chariot of the people.

Building on our first Ecuadorian bus trip, we headed down to Baños on a four hour trek via a mix of roads rated as western, laden with pot holes, paved, dirt, and finally ravaged by lava flows. Being a long weekend in Ecuador, we had the privilege of picking a couple of youngsters after a few cervaza´s. Plying themselves in the isle half a metre away, the struggling girlfriend started burping, or at least that is what we thought until vomit started sliding down her boyfriends new leather jacket. As it only can on a crowded bus in the tropics, the product of a afternoon at the football covered and festered on the floor of the bus with the girl swaying over the passengers in front over every corner and pothole. What can you say..... public transport, the chariot of the people.

Baños, meaning baths in Spanish, lies in the valley under the shadow of a 5000 metre volcano. Active as recent as late last year, several roads are under construction and one need not try hard to find the smooth black volcanic stones. Hosting several natural baths, which supposedly for health benefits, you spend 8 minutes in the hot and 2 minutes in the freezing cold have been frequented in the late of night after a days captain dangering or a nice meal.

After reaching our peak of about 4000 metres above sea level on a hike, we meet a friendly old farmer named Antoñio. The charming old man spent every second day tending his cows and chooks on the mountain between driving local buses. His tiny one bedroom shack, the home of this random act of kindness provided fresh tea, dried banana´s, bread, and a good dose of conversation. Advice from a friend suggested this was a real treat to the locals and we should not offer payment of goods in return. After a few photo´s and a sad goodbye, the call came for a few dollars for his kids. Taken a back that we were simply a cash cow, we handed over a few dollars and hiked down through tough terrain during the night both bitter and disappointed. That said, it is easy for a pair of westerners to judge a poor Ecuadorian farmer.


Captain Danger, often seen cutting up some dirt in his adopted home of Melrose had some competition in Ecuador this past day. With bugger all photographic evidence to show for it, a few minor scars, bruises, and that rush that you have from almost killing yourself we enjoyed one of the most exhilarating days of our lives.
First stop, white water rafting through class IV and V rapids. No words can describe the adrenalin rush of frantically paddling, jumping in and out of the boat on the faintest call of IN, getting drenched by ferocious waves, and hitting 10 tonne rocks in middle of the Rio negro. Falling in twice and Beth once mid rapids and feeling a blood rush without even a remote sense of danger, this is something everyone should do!!!

Not entirely sure what it was, but enticed by the discount of two activities in one day we headed canyoning; Abseiling down waterfalls. The first two, 12 and 6 metres were easily descended with one guide holding the safety rope at the bottom and our combined day of prior experience abseling in the Adelaide hills. However, as I was motioned towards the final descent, I started to realise that the man holding the safety rope was firmly staying at the top of this 45 metre waterfall. With panic setting in and Beth hearing numerous cries of holy four letter words I started this apparently crazy descent. I have not qualms in saying I have never been so scared in my life..... It was fantastic!!!! After reaching the edge, we free abseiled, spiralling under the powerful waterfall. Absolutely fantastic.

Tonight, we hunt for the local delicacy coy, which is a rather tasty guinea pig..... roasted without trimming a toe, ear, or eye..... yummy

Never sit in the front seats

Stumbling upon the finest $12 p.p.p.n establishment this side of mongolia, the amazon inn, we spent the last few days aclimatising to the altitude. We will aim to use this as a base for forays into the oriente, highlands, galapagos and the coast.

Quito, consisting of the unesco heritage old town, with it´s 300 to 500 year old colonial building and churches and the new town, an slightly interesting and dirty metropolis. The surrounding picturesque mountains, stand tall between 3,500 to 4,000 metres. The mestizo denziens are often improverised, but friendly. Although, trips at night are almost strictly undertaken by taxi. The local fare is a hearty mix of pork or beef, with rice, casava, one of the hundred varieties of potatoes, and mercusa vegitables.

Yesterday, we headed on a trip to the bustling Saturday market at Otavlo. The 2.5 hour ride through the Andies is anything but safe and only enjoyed in a middle or back seat, watching an 80´s van damme or waynne´s brother movie in Spanish, without a view of the road and oncoming traffic. Local merchants seemingly jump on at will for a ten minute ride, selling anything from water, nuts, icecream, and bread.

The markets themselves are overwellming at first. Covering three plaza´s and overflowing in the side streets, the incan and mestizo market has a fine assortment of ceramics, musical instruments, local and often live produce, painting, and daily wares. If only the market was a daily event, I could easily imagine my mother spending an entire week.

Today we head to baños, home of many more mountains, volcanic warmed baths (baños), hopefully white water rafting, the odd hike, and a rather active volcano, which seemed to miss the 2000 ed of the lonely planet.

Euroshock and a whistlestop tour of Sevilla and Madrid

Struggling to sustain our lavish lifestyle of hostels, bocadillo´s, and a bottle of vino. We cut short our stay in Spain with two days in Sevilla and one in Madrid and headed for Quito, Ecuador.

The final stop of our tour de andulacía was the regional captial of Sevilla. As per the prior stops, it was once the heart and soul of Moorish Spain until falling in the reconquista around 1300. The hallmarks of winding arabic streets, magnificent castles, ever present Spanish and arabic ceramics were all there. Our main site, was the ancient castle of alkazar and enourmous gardens. Remarkable by it´s size and location, walled the heart of town, you would not imagine it´s splendour withour a few hours inside.

It´s difficult to rate a city after one night, but, with everything seemingly going our way, from the hostal, to the gigantic El Prado museum, and the ease of travel; we could´ve both easily spent another few days with a looser budget. It was interesting to note that two of our american dormies, in tow with a backpack and suitcase were living off 8 euros less per person that the both of us.

After a terrible flight on Iberia, we hit Quito and our $US12 per person room. With an airport pickup, tv, double bed, central location, free city tour, and our best breakfast since Eijsden, we´re living like kings.

City of three cultures

As far as I can tell, the region of andulacia, although comprised of several distinct provinces and sub cultures, all cotain several distinct characteristices. Ubquititous sun, superb food, and an interesting mix of visigoth, moorish, jewish, and christian archiecture. Add the fact that our struggling aussie dollars fare much better here than barcelona or amsterdam and we have ourselves a winnner.

Cordoba, continues this trend with the bueatiful mesquita. After the moorish invasion in the latter part of the first millenia, this visigothic church was turned the finest mosque of it´s day. With Pilgrams travelling from North Africa and the Oriente. Not too forget another trend, post requenista, the Christian church and kings added their own modifications and enhancements to make it a truly unique building.

An extensive juderia is to be explored, containing one of the three remaining synagoues to surivive the spanish inquisition. Although small, it is equally distinct from the two cultures and bueatiful.

Although the fare is fantastic, I am yet to find the Spainish equivalent of fish heads. Something that is uniquely spanish and would turn the heads of most aussies. Rating half a mention would be ox tail stew.

Struggling to find the attraction, but nonetheless drawn to the experience, we travelled to a local bull fight and paid five euros for the cheapest seats in the house. After ten minutes, it was clear that attendance would compare poorly to a Power home game and we strolled down to some 20 euro seats, five metres from the fence. I must say, infront of this seemingly brutal ¨sport¨, Beth and I became somewhat of afficionado´s. The artstic dance of the matador, the flight attendant standard posing, the crowd erupting with ole´s, and even the efficiency of the bull´s end. Even witnessing a matador getting one back from the bull. By the end, the difference between the good, bad, and ugly however small, was easily distinguishable.

The stuff fairy tales are made of

Your best childhood fairytale about alladin multiplied by a thousand is the only way to describe the splendours of the alahambra. Originally a Moorish fortress around 900 and later converted to multiple palaces by the Nasrid until 1492; The geometrical architecture and decor create a feeling of wealth, beauty and passion without a hint of decadence. Photo´s will of course accompany on facebook, but I am sure that it will be a poor imitation. When we are in our sixites and sitting on the porch whittling and sweing, we will remember the day we visited the alhahambra as one of the very best.

The first word that comes to mind with Granada, is romantic. The arabic settlements contain cobbled and patterned, narrow and windy streets with houses decorated with arabic tiles and caramics. The bars, cafes, and restaurants are plentiful; Serving a tapa with each drink until late in the morning . As a couple you can survive of one main and grazing. We left Granda today wanting more and vowing to visit one day.
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Just imagine you walk into a bar are you´re John Travolta

Reviewing our accommodation thus far reminds you of of John Travlota. Starting of with a couple of hits, we all but hit rock bottom of the eighties; scientology, way too many ¨Look who´s talking¨ sequels, and befriending that odd Cruise fellow(although we do admire his work from time to time). All, pale in comparison to rooming with Mr Ed. That is, until the good fortune of befriending a promising young producer named Quetin. Well, she was mid forties, dressed rather shabbily, and I´ll call her Estella. Anyway, the charming Estella thoughtfully moved to top floor corner room of this former mansion.... Bath, four bay windows, shower, and not a sole in the room bar us. Mood instantly rising.... It´s Grease Lightning....

Topping the night off, a local troupe of Argentinian singers lodge for the past two nights, held an impromptu session / party out on the plaza for the last few hours before sending us to sleep after enjoying our elebratory fanta and kit kat....

Let´s just hope we avoid a few broken arrows.

How was Barcelona.... last two days were fantastic.... A fabulous garden designed by Gaudi, tapas and a bottle of vino, picasso museum, tapas and a bottle of vino, ubiquitous street performers, stunning architecture, and finally, tappas and a bottle of vino.

After travelling to a few cities large and small across europe, I´m starting to think that Adelaide has MASSIVELY dropped the ball with public transport? Barcelona and Valencia as two case studies house 1.5 million and 700,000 inhabitants. Equally equipped with an extensive network of subways, trams, and buses. We´ve never waited more than 5 minutes for a metro or 15 minutes for a bus!

However, I do struggle with the Spanish culture of mañana, literrally, tomorrow. The pace is often agonizingly slow, bar public transport, Customer service and services are mostly understaffed or and a ten, twenty, or one hundred person line is of little conseqeunce. Take lining up for four hours to catch one of the two trains to Grenanda tomorrow, which were both booked.

Relaxed, architecturally brilliant, loaded with bars and restaurants serving relatively cheap paella and cervaza´s in the afternoon sun. Once you get outdoors, it appears Valencia will have a lot to offer.

Hello, I´m Mr Ed

Waiting 5 hours for a plane involved many trips up and down the
travellators with Beth often remarking "You´re such a child"! For just
a moment panic struck. Walking through customs the guard motions me
towards the room with a curtain.... Luckily, the gloves stayed away
and I was whisked through after debelting and shoeing, Dignity intact.

Last day in Eijsden was hard to say goodbye after a fantastic week.
Although the suspect Dutch weather rearing it´s ugly head made the
depature to sunny Spain all the more easier. We rode to Maastricht for
some Deflt and consumed an utter soaking on the ride home. Beth
looking like Mrs Buckets in a terry towling and rain jacket.

We had good night catching up with our friend Ellen from Belgium.
After a few beers and a quick worry about the car park being closed
with headed home for difficult goodbyes, hoping our Dutch and Belgian
friends visit soon. The story often told about Stella artois being a wife beater in belgium was confirmed..... Apparently, the locals consider Heineken a 16 year old girls drink?

After two hours of incompetence from the airport and train staff, who
treat tourists like the plague, rucksacks en tow we make our way
through the warm Spanish streets to find our hostel. The locals, about
eight during the hike, gladly assisted these two bumbling travellers
and on arrival are greeted by a grand old mansion standing proudly
over Barcelona, minus the trimmings of it´s glorious past. All in all,
not bad digs.

First stop, "Dos cervaza´s por favor" at our new local, run by a young
Antonio Banderras from "Interview with a Vampire".

We have a lovely old English roomy, who thoughtfully snored like Mr Ed
on coke. I was half surprised she didn´t get up and lay a ripper fart
on someones head. Gladly, she´s staying an extra three nights in our
room.

Starting to remember my Spanish, even if it is butchered, the locals
seem to understand.

Today, hiking, sites, and I´m sure the odd market.

Getting arrested.... Dutch Style

We've witnessed two arrests since arriving the the nederlands and both suspects have gone out in style. Yesterday's installment, mid afternoon near the centre of town. Reasonable looking fellow, screaming, yelling whilst two of Maastricht's finest are trying to pin him down over about five minutes. The whole street stops as about 100 people all walk over for a captain cook, some capturing the precious moment on the mobile.

A trip to Utrecht to see the and the river of my name was in vain, the combination of rain and our lack of orienteering skills were the culprits. The day was saved by a traditional Dutch meal at Floor and Rene's, serving red cabbage and sauerkraut based meals with a traditional sausage, French wine, and a premium hoegaarden.

On a tangent, the beer I have tasted in sensational. Largers, witte (white / wheat), cheery, cloudy (pale), local beers, beers brewed by monks, local beers, special hoegaarden. Fantastic. Oddly, you could not find a Heinekin in Maastricht to save yourself. The locals all consider Stella Artois to be a bit of a wife beater.

Last couple of days have been spent cycling through the Dutch countryside where the closest thing to a hill is a speed bump; walking through the Castel of Eijsden; strolling through the markets; and having dinner with friends and family. Roske, Paul, and Lika have kindly given us several old photo's of my Mum, Dad, Oma and Opa, and the great grand parents.

It'll be a sad day heading to Spain tomorrow leaving friends and family who have thoroughly spoiled us. We have even basked in the untypical Dutch sunishine :)

Jules was right

Of course we have seen big differences in the few countries we have visited, but it's also the little ones. The variances in social norms, the regional specific "aussie burger" (not that we've tried), taboos, even the toiliets are little different.

We spent a day in the francaphone city of Liege in northern belgium. Lika and Beth tourned the local wares at the shopping mall, whilst Paul, Jerome, and I toured the citadel, churches, and a magnificent view of the city, which is nicely encapsulated within a valley. I must try and attain some photo's from Paul.

Afterwards another sensational dinner, we had tea, coffee, and apricot pie with my tante rosa (Dad's autie), who had visited australia three times in the 80's and 90's and we stayed with for 3 weeks 15 years ago.

Another day at the shop in Den Bosch for Beth and Floor was enjoyed by her partner and I touring the local sites. A 1930's and 40's defensive fort against the Germans. Undescribable huge. Litterally built over several square kilometers 30 - 50m under a mountain. A crude description of it's size states that it takes 20 minutes to run from one end to the other. 800 Belgians holding the fort against a WWI style attack wered defeated by an German troupe of 80 landing with glyders using WWII weapons.

I'm butchering the Dutch language trying to speak to those with little English, but I seem to get the point accross.

We have taken the odd ride Dutch style through very pretty country side, barely using the road.

Although the weather at Eijsden has been 20 - 24 since arrival, today we are in Utrecht with fog, rain, and wind :(

Southern Hospitality

After a three hour train ride through the scenic countryside from Den Haag to Maastricht after a slight miscalculation on my part. After ringing up our hosts daughter, who I've not seen in 15 years, parks directly accross the street. Courage was eventually plucked and we asked if it was her and we were on our way to Eijsden.

We will not find the hospitality we have recieved from family friends, Paul and Lika and their family. We feel as if we are around family and mostly I have consumed authentic Dutch food. Both their childeren, Jerome, Floor and her partner Rene have also treated us fantastically.

Paul, the official photographer of Maastricht, personally took us on a tour of arguably, the oldest city in the Netherlands. Sitting in firstly the room where I believe the treaty of Maastricht was signed, with a frame poster containing the signatures of all european presidents (see facebook) and secondly the room of the Duke of Limburg. I started to get the feeling that the citizens were a touch spoiled for culture when we walked into a book store which was the old church of the city, circa 1500, tastfully maintaining it's historical walls paintings.

Today we have seen the historically and beutiful Belgian Wallon city of Liege and just ridden into Maastricht. You know a country has a lot of bike riders when 80,000 bikes are stolen a year.

We look forward to seeing my tante Rosa tonight over dinner and the rest of the week in Eijsden and hopefully Hasselt. Then off to Spain, where I think Beth is hoping we staying in a small hotel room instead of a hostel :)

A boat cruise through the scenic canals in Amsterdam was followed by a scenic hour train ride, literally 1/4 of the country, to Den Haag. Very green in constrast to the golden country side of the mid north or the malley scrub.

After being royally screwed $A50 p.p.p.n for a pair of bunk beds, we caught up for a good night of beers and conversation with Beth's friend Zoe and Willehm. The walk home through a dimly lit city after midnight was conceded to a taxi driver after an hours walk, who promptly drove in a circle before pulling into the hostel.

Euroshock (n) - Realisation that your well planed budget accounts for bugger all in when paying in euros.

Will probably cut our time in Spain by a week to take advantage of the peso.

Culinary speaking, it's remeniscent of spending summers at Oma's. Averaging a croquet per day (below right), hagel for breakfast this morning, and lots of sandwichers. And today the killer, heading to Maastricht, home of the Reijnders (Oma's) clan and a stop at the local markets to sample fresh rollmops and some olle bollen (below left). Then friends and family in Eijsden.

Can't you make an exception, we're only five minutes late?

Just navigated to the Heineken tour.... 5 minutes late.

In awe of the way the Dutch present their history and arts so professionally and proudly after visits to the rijskmuseum, van gough, Amsterdam history, among other. Maybe I should get off the couch at home and see what we have to offer at home?

Not ever being confused for an art conusor, but, it was a privilege viewing the van Gough's, Rembrandt's, and Vermeer's. Although this might sound obvious or corny, the difference between good art and the masterpieces is perfection .

The Gaul of McDonald's making croqett's ?!?!?

Having a couple of extra cold Heineken's down the road (same temp as what you get in Oz) and after ten minutes was having a reasonable conversation in broken Spanish..... That is, until I've managed to offend them talking about cuban cigars?

We've found the Dutch totally uninterested in helping tourists. Although, if I didn't just come from HK, I wouldn't be so shocked. Charging 2 euro's for a map is a bit over the top don't you think? Everything else is double or triple the price than back home.... except for tulips

Lodgings are ok. Aviengo in spuistraat. 18 others in the room, lot's of pretty red lights and cafe's in the neighborhood. Well, I guess that's what you get in Amsterdam for $A35.

zài jiàn Hong Kong. Wij zijn Amsterdam

Seated with Paul and June, a retired ex aussie terrorism officer and teacher over dinner last night with a few interesting travel stories that would put the old man to shame ;) Both just came back from multiple safari's through Africa, staying tin the odd guest house and hostel.

Rolled in at Amsterdam after 12 hours at 6:30. Watched Blades of Glory twice and they were several poses that may even put Petey and I to shame.

Anyway, we both left HK with the firm intention of revisiting. Highly, recommended and the people are fantastic, friendly, forgiving, open and honest.

Yesterday was 30 with 75% humidity, today bordering on sleet in grey old Amsterdam. Will hit the showers then off to the rijksmuseum and perhaps a canal ride.

Cheers,

Hamish and Beth

I thought I heard him say fish head?

Markets, markets, markerts. Ladies, western, food, clothes, electronics among others. All nice and enclosed to trap the sapping heat and smells. One shock was flicking through a few canvases finding the same painting, painted twice, noticeable differences included. I picture some poor aspiring painter hunched over an easel paiting the same picture over and over again. Still, it'll be sent in mail this afternoon. There was even one of Van Gough's sunflower.

Whilst at Danny Mung's, we'd noticed feasting over a single split hot pot, centered in the table, droping, cooking, and fishing out various morsoles of meats and vegies. On advice, we'd gone trecking for a restaurant about ten k's from the hotel, accompanied by an address in Chinese. Waiting in line to try the newly discovered fare, we observe the filleting, preparing, and serving of a live fish still mildy thrashing in shock of losing half it's body.

Seated, the well meaning supervisor tries to explain, but more successfully demonstrates , how and what to eat and bravely agree to his recommendations.

A variety of side dishes arrives, proscuitto thin steak, meat balls, and something we decided was the skin of a former animal? We prepared our own mixture of soy, chilly, spring onions, garlic / ginger / onion mix, and something else that was crunchy to use as a dipping sauce. Then, the main event, the hot pot, one side boiling with a beef style soup, the other white, with corn, tofu, a few unknown vegies, fish skin, and I think pig knuckle. Oh, and a big ole fish head. Although both a touch squeamish on the fish head, consumed and enjoyed. The meat balls especially tasty, with a garlicy buttered centre.

Hmmm, You'd think with all this talk of eating, all we've done is sample the local tucker?

Tonight, shopping, washing packing, then off to the peak for a night time view of HK and flying to Amsterdam and five past midnight.

Now, dim sum for breakfast :)

Organised Chaos

Fast, dynamic, massive, but unbelievably in sync. Everyone seems to have a purpose, no matter that be dull, boring, difficult, or complex, the job get done and done well. Whether in a museum, park, restaurant or eating some slush called black sesame everyone is eager to help a giant white boy and his tall, by local standards, wife, with buffuddled looks on their chevy chase hovering over a map.

It may just be lust, but I have fallen for HK!!

The food is sublime, eating dim sum last night, similiar to yum cha, the restaurant supervisor proudly shows his aussie 10c, 20c, 50c, $1, and $2 slamming it down on the table. After a brief chat, I gave him (Beth's) 5c and $5. All of a sudden, we are Danny Mung's new best friends :) Free deserts, drinks, peanuts (not for Beth), choclates, and half priced box set of moon cakes. btw They have a aquarium full of the biggest baby killing (alaskan) crabs I've seen.

Especially proud and shocked, yesterday, after long walk around hong kong island, meandering around the edges of town found this ram shakle of an eatery on a dodgy side street. No guessing the missus wasn't keen until bam, of the five words the owner knew, one was dumplings. Next thing you know, Beth and I are sitting on a stool in a tin shed and she is all in for desert too, a bowl of blackish sludge; Consumed and enjoyed. 20 of your best backpacker points to Beth please.

Runs on the board:
Kowloon bay light show - I was a touch skeptical rocking up to the nightly version of safm's skyshow, but I kid you not, literally 80+ skyscrapers synchronised with music, lasers and lights across the harbour, awesome.

Habana express (photo's to come in facebook)
Me - "Are these all cubans?"
Staff - "Yes sir, they are"
Me - "Oh yeah....."

Walking and riding through Hong Kong

Cathay Pacific
- Reasonable food and your personally video / gaming system. All of sudden it's 1988 as Hamish is playing arconoid for about an hour.

Danny Mung 35 - 37 Hankow Road, Tsim Sha Tsui, Kowloon

Room 31 - 22
Best view of the harbour. "It's all downhill from here"

Lost wickets:
Picked out by the local monks for a donation.

Siting in an english bar listening to your best 80's rock. Cat's in the craddle and a Silverspoon, little boy blue and a man on the moon (I know it's a cover song)!

Lost after a visit to the botanic gardens.

Leaving tomorrow

Leaving tomorrow, hooray although I've been a bit grumpy. Beth has been understanding :)

Hopefully, we'll have a few interesting comments in the coming days in honkers

Done.

Rather surreal spending my first night at home with my wife :) Who would have thought?

Wedding was fantastic, but unbelievable hectic and fast paced. Beth looked sublime, groomsman and bridesmaid's were a treat, and all our family and friends made the day really special. With thanks to all those who helped. Of the top of my head, DJ Rob, Julie the Celebrant, the guys at Sebel, Gary for video taping, Keith for MCing, the photographer, and everyone I've forgotten - sorry. Oh, and many thanks for all the presents!

We greatly appreciate everyone rolling and helping make it a special day :)

Now for two days of anticipation. First stop, honkers.

Last day @ work

Woohoo, it's my last day at work :)

I might try and actually put in some serious and hopefully, half interesting blogs

count 'em

Count 'em, 21 days of work left!!!!

Would not be able to survive these hours at work without the four months break :))))

Five weeks to heaven

Shots, shots and more shots..... yellow feaver, hep a + b, typhoid and waiting on a medical clearance for the flights..... Works is all consuming, but FIVE WEElKS TO GO!!!!!

Have had random thoughts about catching a rugby game in bordeaux for the world cup. Apart from that, only movement on dates and times is to spend more time in south america and less in europe....

So far will visit Beth's friend Zoe in Holland, Ellen in Belgium, and maybe the DECSies in London Southy and Vanessa, and I also hear the lumberjack, Derek Ryan will be in the mother country.

Would love to fit in the octoberfest, but don't want to push to much.

The cows will get up tonight which might help something else....

I have to stop eating those marshmallows

Progress has started to unfold. We have a nice little trip so far, although somewhat more modest than initial estimations. You don't want to get trapped into visiting too many places without fulling experiencing the each destination.

Firstly off to Hong Kong, then two weeks in Holland, followed by three in spain, six in ecuador, peru and bolivia, and give in argentina and chile..... although we can't seem to get home.

Meanwhile wedding preparations are in full swing, spanish homework has lessened, although we seem to be making progress on the major project at work....hmmm... I need to work less.

Anyway, I'd better stop eating marshmallows

Progress, but not as we no it

This edition finds our intrepd traveller with a promising idea, a new strategy with the la agente del recorrido'', and a few minor stumbling blocks.

Am asking for every possible flight that may appeal, and joining the dots from there...... looking for the enthusiasm to hold.

Alternates to Vietnam
OZ -> Dempesar -> HK -> Europe
OZ -> HK -> Mumbai (and Goa) -> Helsinki / London -> Amsterdam

Struggling to make it to Morocco and the southern tip of South America. The later forming the major stumbling block, although for both, trains, buses, and even the odd flights shouldn't be too difficult in these countries.

Ever growing scepticism of airline advertising

As I test my "problem solvered" old white box wireless connection issue and cooking my chicken patties, I ponder if the One World alliance, who I organising my RTW with, aren't just a big bunch of shits.

Repeatedly, destinations their website purports to be available, aren't. Some dodgy excuse about codeshare this and code share that. Rubbish!!! Is it that hard to have one page that list all the possible destinations for a RTW trip and actually be accurate?

Anyway, more decisions need to be made. Do we forgo Hong Kong and head to Osaka? Do we do both? Can we make it to patagonia, can we fly around Morocco.

hmmm I wonder how those patties are going. I also have a sneaking suspicion the spell check for this site does not work?

Planning dilemmas

Planning a four month holiday across four continents, you would surely expect more enthusiasm than I garner on a weekly basis?!?! We have a reasonably good "not too formal"schedule but there are only so many times you can read aboutslightly different tours of machu pichu that are all roughly the same, but in some way, just slightly not what you are after. That two, and reading about accomodation in boliva. Rubbish!!!


Then again, I do sound a bit like one of those prats of that lost tribes show, so I'll stop the complaining. Tuesday I meet with Rachel the travel agent, I am hoping to book the flights and the two small tours in Ecuador and Peru.

I often get the feeling that we are doing too much in four months and could have a better time spending the time just in South America?

Blue footed booby?!?

With no one listening, watching, or subscribing, I inauspiciously commence this blog to document the planning, preparation, the actual, and the unfortunate return to work from a four month odyssey around the globe. Starting out in Adelaide Australia, the plan insists of two weeks in vietnam, four in benelux, three in spain and morocco, three in the Andies and the home of the are blue footed booby, four in the southern cone, and a few rest days in Auckland. Anything remotley resembling additional details are stricly persona non grata.

Oh yeah, and somewhere along the way, I'm maryying my parter of almost four years, the lovely Beth - so I may be sidetracked by the odd reference.