Salt.. And people eating people.. And Magic Flamingoes.. And Giant Cinderella.. Etc.

The border crossing into Bolivia was absurd. I mean, actually ridiculous. The border police was literally a wily fox scuttling around outside and the immigration office no bigger than a garden shed. The guy didn't even look at the photo page of my passport.

LOVE IT.

We took the 3 day tour from San Pedro to arrive into Uyuni, the final destination being the famous Salt Flats, the Salar de Uyuni. What I hadn't really anticipated was how stunning the journey there would be. I can sit here and bore you with hyperbolic descriptions of magical flamingo lagoons, lunar landscapes made out of salt, geysers gushing up at howevermany degrees, but I'll just let the photos do the talking. It was totally. out. of. this. world.

The second day of the tour I wondered how much more National Geographic moments I could possibly take. Our moody / lunatic driver was just beginning to grate but we stopped in the weird town of Culpina K for the night, played cards, drank beer and even stopped by at the local store - someone's actual front room. It was a lot of fun.

Before the Salt Flats, more weirdness, in the shape of the Train Graveyard just outside Uyuni. I'm still not quite sure what this was, but it was all very post apocalyptic and creepy. Apart from the swings and see-saw which were clearly hilarious.

So here they are, in all their glory. One of the top things I was most excited about in South America, and they didn't disappoint. We covered our eyes until we were speeding in the middle of this salty desert of nothingness.

 

Words honestly can't describe.


But I'll try. 


Leave the country. Get on a plane to Bolivia. COME HERE! 


Easy! :-)

Disney Does Desert

Onwards to the desert town of San Pedro de Atacama, in the Atacama desert in Northern Chile. San Pedro is ridic - all low rise adobe buildings, dusty lanes and cacti, it's a tiny place and totally tourist-tastic, like the set of Dune or Star Wars or something, but I absolutely loved it.

I arrived early in the morning, bleary eyed and wondering how I'd woken up in such a weird and wonderful place. I stepped off the coach and ignoring the advice of altitudesickness.org (I was at 2500m - I was convinced I was hemorrhaging) I did what I seem to be doing constantly at the moment, had a slap up lunch. The local pataska was amazing, seriously if I can't manage to cook more than pasta surprise when I get home there's going to be trouble.

San Pedro is small, and is pretty much made up of travel agencies and restaurants, so I ate a lot and booked a lot of tours. We went stargazing - the views of the night sky in the Atacama desert are some of the clearest in the world, and visited the ranch of a crazy French astronomer in the middle of nowhere. We were talked through the constellations, and it was a total spin out that I realised we wouldn't be able to see the North Star. It's the Southern Hemisphere, duh! I later realised my glasses were really scratched and dirty so I didn't see any shooting stars but looking at Saturn through a telescope was like someone had painted a cartoon of it over the lens to fool us stoopid gringos. We huddled together for a hot chocolate and Q&A in their adobe hut afterwards - not sure my brain could quite handle talking about quantum physics at 1am but it was all pretty awesome. 

 

The next day we hired bikes and rode through the aptly named Death Valley. It was really hot. And really dry. And I felt like dying - pretty apt. Peddling on to Valle de la Luna - Moon Valley - through long open roads, we made it in time for sunset, which was spectacular. The cycle home was only slightly terrifying, guided only by the light of the moon (rental bikes don't come with high-vis), but I loved it. Couldn't feel my butt for days.

It was time to leave Chile, a totally unexpected highlight, and head into Bolivia to see some real saltiness..

Argentina, Andean Hangovers and Alfajores

So after an arduous, cross continental, long winded and very expensive journey.. my Visa card finally arrived. It was time to leave BA, mouth smeared with dulce du leche, and head to Mendoza, the wine capital of Argentina. But that wasn't before I´d experienced 8 hours sat on a stone cold floor in BA´s Retiro bus station. There was a national bus strike, which meant the world and his llama was delayed in getting anywhere. And isn´t it amazing how interesting things become when you´re stuck in the most boring place possible? I forced myself to sit in one place for at least an hour at a time, so I could really look forward to going to browse the newsagents on the station concourse.. or maybe even sit in a skanky cafe! Or my favourite, sit on the bench outside. I did read pretty much the whole of The Slap though (great book, thoroughly recommend). 

Anyway, as I boarded the bus at 1am, I´ve never been more glad of the fact that I shelled out for a first class seat - fully reclining leather bed, personal movie screen and a ridiculous 17 course dinner with wine. Amaze.

Mendoza was lovely, all laid back dinners, sunny skies, amazing steak and very chilled out. Maybe signing up for the high Andean mountain tour with the world´s worst hangover wasn´t the best idea though. Horrible altitude, a winding bus journey and the remnants of Senor Dog left at the hostel along with my dignity were not ideal. The spectacular views of Aconcangua and my first taste of the Andes soon blew the cobwebs away though.

I squeezed in a wine tour around some bodegas, but have to say it was kind of boring, felt like I was on a Sandals holiday with all the European pensioners.

In the interests of easier border crossings, I decided to leave Argentina and head into Chile. I hadn´t even really thought of going here, but I trotted through the mountains to Valparaiso, which at first sight from the bus station seemed like a more depressing version of Finsbury Park. But as we ascended up into the hills, it started to make a bit more sense. 

The port town was once one of the most important in South America, and once you get up the Cerros, it´s pretty awesome. I only know this though because I took the amazing Tours4tips - guided by Where´s Wally, you have to do this if you´re in town. We took the funicular, rode the old trams, saw really cool street art, bought alfajores from some old guy´s house and finished up with a pisco sour. Best tour ever, and you only pay what you think it was worth. Dig deep!

It was also here in Valparaiso that I thank the Lord I was introduced to La Chorillana, continuing the theme of me basically eating my way around the globe. It´s a local student dish, heart attack on a plate, cheap and cheerful but so freaking delicious. Fresh hunks of meat served up on home cooked fries, drizzled with fried onions and general deliciousness. There are no words.

I also popped into Pablo Neruda´s house, desperate to sit on his "Cloud" chair (there was a velvet rope). All in all, Valpo is a pretty unique place and a great stop for a couple of days.

Deciding I wasn´t quite ready for another 24 hour bus journey, I decided to break up my trip to the Atacama Desert with a stop in La Serena.

La Serena is a hole. That´s all I have to say on that matter. Onwards to the Desert!

Koala Chlamydia, Kylie and ¡Evita!

My last few weeks in Australia were a lot of fun. I was loving Sydney, and enjoying work and having money, but was worried I could fall into the 9-5 grind, something I came on this trip to temporarily escape. It was a difficult decision, and one I hope I don't come to regret, but I booked my onward flight and decided to make the most of my remaining time down under. I squeezed in the famous walk from Coogee to Bondi along the coast in the lovely sunshine, stopping off at the various beaches along the way, and just generally hung out and enjoyed weekending in old Sydders.

 

Along with Ramsey Street and Christmas on the beach, the rest of my Ozzie wish list mainly consisted of manhandling a koala, which I did at the Sydney Wild Life Centre. The rangers were very informative -apparently the koalas are rampant little bleeders and often suffer from koala chlamydia. I was expecting them to be the softest thing I'd ever touched, but actually they kind of felt more like wire wool, and their claws would have your face off in a second. Still, it was pretty cool and I resisted the urge to shove the baby one into my rucksack - CUTEST. THING. EVER.

Rain sucks. Rain sucks big time. Hit hard by the Whitney news, we headed to the opening party of Mardi Gras, Fair Day, which was great, all boozy fairground rides and singing trannies. But the rain seemed like it was to be a Mardi Gras constant, and although the Drag Queen Races on Bondi were hilarious (events included Toss the Handbag and Trannie Volleyball), I did almost get hypothermia. It reminded me of the countless Glastonburys or Bestivals in knee deep mud and torrential rain. Please can I just have one outdoor event in the sun? Just one. After a great pre-party with bubbles and canapes, we made it through to the rainy parade which was apparently amazing. Unfortunately I can't remember it because as per, I pushed it too far by 4pm and was tucked up in bed by midnight. I didn't see Kylie, she chickened out of the parade, but I did only remember this the next day, my initial waking memory having been what in fact was a drag impersonator on the Kylie float.

 

 

 

 

My last night in Sydney was spent dancing with the green fairy down at the awesome Absinthe Salon in Surry Hills. It was kind of like True Blood's Fangtasia, all locked front doors and stuffed cats and creepy absintheurs. If you're ever in town, you have to go there.

So onto Buenos Aires, an amazingly beautiful and cosmopolitan city, which to my shame I hadn't expected at all. I've been made to feel very welcome by my porteño local friends, and have had constant meat sweats since I got here. Amazing steak, red wine, delicious empanadas, giant bottles of beer and a midnight tour of the city, I love it.

 

I'm also basically on an Evita pilgrimage, first stop was her grave (I seem to be spending a lot of time with the dead recently?), and a breathtaking view of the Casa Rosada (yes THE balcony), outside which is actually a statue of Liberty, not Madonna. All topped off with a stroll around the Museo Evita to look at her clothes.

 

I spent Sunday in the old quarter of San Telmo, browsing the antique market and enjoying the sunshine, tango dancers and half a cow at the Parilla El Desnivel (thanks Agnes!). San Telmo is a lovely place, vibrant and laid back at the same time. I did get half way to La Boca, but got as far as Maradona's old stadium before I felt a bit uneasy and turned on my tango heel. Kind of wish I'd read the big boxed text in my lonely planet saying TOURISTS DO NOT COME HERE beforehand, but you live and learn.

Yesterday I took a day trip to the sleepy town of Colonia del Sacramento in Uruguay. And when I say sleepy, I mean practically unconscious. No, it was lovely, hopped on the ferry from BA (like one of those ones you used to take to Calais on school trips), and when the sun finally came out it really magnified its charm. It's a UNESCO World Heritage site, and kind of reminded me of Hoi An in Vietnam in its preservation of old worldliness. I watched the sun come down on the Río de la Plata with a beer and all was good with the world.

 

I totally underestimated how rustily bad my foreign language skills are. Currently a horrific mix of Franglish, I've realised the only Spanish I can actually remember is Geri Halliwell's rap in If U Can't Dance, so this morning I promptly trotted out and bought myself a pair of alpargatas (love them, gracias Juan!) and a teach yourself Spanish phrase book. Guess it was acceptable that my Vietnamese or Khmer wasn't too hot, here, I have no excuse.

I'm waiting for my errant visa card to arrive (it's DEFINITELY in BA according to FedEx) and will then decide on my next route, which will probably be a bus to Mendoza to get pissed in the vineyards and maybe popping into Chile.

¡Arriba!

Oh and one last thing- how have I never heard of the nectar of the gods that is dulce du leche? In ice cream, on toast, hell straight from the jar with a spoon.. I'm going to need an extra rucksack to export this shit home.

Prisoner Cell Block Oz.

I don't know if it's maybe because I've been watching too much Prisoner Cell Block H during my time in Australia, but the more time I spend in the one hostel (it's been a month now), the more I imagine it's something akin to prison life. A few people have asked me what my daily routine consists of.

Bear with me and I'll explain.

The HMP issue sheets on the metal bunks. Lights out at 11. The rations of gruel have been replaced with 2 minute instant noodles, and the inmates hang out in the rec room, too poor to do anything but drink contraband goon and watch bad 90s movies with Emilio Estefez.

Then there's Top Dog. The po-faced girl who swans around thinking she owns the place, Queen Bea who will only speak to old timers and who definitely controls the TV remote. The real old-timer, the Lizzie of the joint, seems to be just about the only person who was offended with the people having sex on the top bunk while she was asleep below. There's fights, cups of tea being thrown everywhere and illicit affairs. Maybe someone should have lagged.



There's the skanky old laundry, industrial machines banging away day and night, trying to cope with the latest infestation of bed bugs; you half expect Judy or Doreen to be knocking around in their denim dungas, fag in mouth, bitching about the screws.

The Governer, firm but fair, rules the reception desk. If you ask nicely she'll let you pay your rent a bit late. But then there's Vinegar Tits, the moody night porter who seems to be on permanent kitchen patrol and gets cross if there's bits of pasta or grated carrot in the plughole. I've yet to meet The Freak or see anyone get thrown into solitary but I'm sure it's only a matter of time.

Anyway while I'm not blurring my realities between Wentworth and actual real life, I'm having a great time. Work is going good, lots of travellers and it's awesome having a dollar wage in a land where the only food I can actually afford is McDonalds or pasta surprise for breakfast lunch and dinner. I spent last weekend at the beach (my massage by the sea was AMAZING - thank you so much guys xoxo) and loving the sunshine when it actually happens (apparently it's Australia's worst summer on record or something.. but I'm not complaining when London is minus 2). I'm gearing up for La Minogue at Mardi Gras, and looking forward to the opening party at Fair Day tomorrow.

South America is still in my sights, lets just hope Falklands Mark II doesn't kick off. Anyway I'm off to talk to my parole officer.