On all of my previous trips of several moths I've reached the point when I've got tired of travelling. When I've been ready to go home. On this one it didn't happen. There was always something new and exciting. I didn't mind the lack of hygiene, hassle with the money or any other inconveniences. I enjoyed being on the road and there was so much to see that I felt like I didn't have enough time. But as I had my return flight booked and my room as well as my job waiting for me, I came back.
On my return I was curiously looking around with my eyes wide, like I had been observing everything as a foreigner in South America. I noticed a lot of clichés, such as the blond air hostesses serving Fazer's blue chocolates on my Finnair flight or a woman with a fair-skinned baby with bright blue eyes at a bus stop in my home town. It was summertime; the weather was warm and everything was green. But watching the fields and forests pass by on the way from the airport to Tampere I still didn't get the same immensely nostalgic feeling I had when I returned from New Zealand in June 2003 or from my trip to Europe in June 2007. In Tampere I realised how clean and tidy the streets of the city are. I had never thought about it before. But what would Finland be without alcoholics? Of course there had to be two drunk men arguing on my way home in Pispala, the most beautiful and bohemian part of Tampere.
I'm lucky that I share my home with other people. If I had had to come back to a lonely apartment, I would have escaped right away. In Finland I couldn't hear Spanish around me anymore, nor did I have the challenge of learning new things of everyday life, so I felt like it was a bit boring. But my house mates welcomed me with their stories, questions and a lot of jokes and laughter, which made it much easier to settle back. The view to the lake from my window is not the same thing as the snow-capped Andean mountains, but it sure is a view to enjoy and be grateful of.
On my first day home I bought rye bread for breakfast, ate it outside in our garden and felt like being home was actually much more of a holiday than travelling had been. From the local newspaper, Aamulehti, I read an article written by my great idol, Matti Kuusela, a skilled journalist. Here in Finland I can understand the ideas of other people, develop my thinking and enjoy the varied tones of my mother tongue. Another enjoyable cultural experience was watching the film called Miesten vuoro (Men's turn) outside at the oldest public sauna still in use in Finland. The film shows Finnish men sit in the sauna and talk about their lives, sometimes with tears in their eyes - which is traditionally not typical in our culture - if the memories and feelings are painful.
I had a short holiday in Finland before I started working again. Most of it I spent at my parents' place in the countryside; picking berries and going to sauna & swimming.
Now I've been back to work for a month. It's been surprisingly easy and pleasant. I had been looking forward to it, but part of me had also been horrified if it would be difficult to lose my freedom. But adapting to working life hasn't been a problem. This life has its advantages, too. I can bump into my friends and acquaintances in town, and I can continue my regular hobbies like going to yoga, language courses and lectures.
torstai 23. syyskuuta 2010
tiistai 17. elokuuta 2010
Iguazú Falls and Uruguay
I went to Iguazú Falls. They were as enormous, amazing, spectacular and everything as they were supposed to be. Even despite the big amount of tourists I enjoyed visiting the place. The photos will give you an idea, but to really understand how stunning the waterfalls are, you have to see them yourself.
From Puerto Iguazu I travelled about 20 hours in a bus to Buenos Aires and then crossed the bay to Uruguay. On the ferry a Finnish guy, Tuukka, came to talk to me. He had noticed my Halti backpack and figured that I'm a Finn. The same thing has happened to me once before, in a local bus to a small village in Fiji in 2003. On this trip to South America I didn't see many Finns. After meeting the tango enthusiasts in Buenos Aires, there was a Finnish couple on the same daytrip in Mendoza. In Chile two Finnish guys had stayed at the same hostel just two days before me. In San Pedro de Atacama I saw the Finnish flag in a bar and was told that the owner, Reijo, is a Finn. In Bolivia there was my friend Kati, and - in the Bolivian jungle I spoke Finnish with a traveller called Zamir, or Sami. He was from Stockholm, Sweden. His mother was a Finn and his father an Israeli.
Tuukka told me he had been robbed just before embarking the ferry. On the street, in the daylight, around 8.30 in the morning! Classical case: Some dirty liquid had been spilled on him, two women had appeared asking "Oh, you got it, too? Do you have some water we could use for cleaning our clothes?" Tuukka put down his backpack and started to take out his water bottle. Then there was a man nearby making some weird noise. Tuukka looked up. He knew there was something strange, but it all happened so quick. Before he realised, the women had grabbed his backpack and jumped into a nearby car, which drove away.
Uruguay, the land of mate and gauchos, seemed very European - and for that, after visiting the more exotic countries Bolivia, Peru and Ecuador - somewhat uninteresting to me. It was my last destination and my mind was already home, but I was still able to notice the beauty of the streets lined with trees and the colonial buildings in Montevideo and Colonia del Sacramento.
A park in Montevideo:
A couple waiting for the sunset and drinking mate by the sea in Montevideo:
Restaurants at Mercado del Puerto in Montevideo:
Big trees lining a street in Colonia del Sacramento:
On the morning of my last day in Uruguay an American man from my hostel asked me if he could join me for a walk in the Old Town of Colonia. Old man (recently retired), American, abdominous, wearing a baseball shirt. I wasn't thrilled with his suggestion. But I wasn't horrified either. I guess I was indifferent. "Sure, whatever, why not", I thought. And he turned out to be excellent company for my last day of travelling. After walking around taking photos we had the most delicious lunch and long conversations at a nice restaurant. We talked about his plans to buy a house somewhere in South America, about travelling, relationships, work, cows and bulls... anything. I would just sit and listen admiring, soaking his wisdom of life in. He said something very beautiful about his girlfriend and their relationship, comparing it to finding an excellent wine, after which he doesn't want to drink other wines anymore. I wish I had written down what he said about travelling, commenting about me taking the risk of leaving everything for a while and going backpacking. It was something like "sometimes people get too involved in their routines and don't see the crystals in their lives. Breaking the routines and experiencing something new broadens your mind, gives you perspective on things".
From Puerto Iguazu I travelled about 20 hours in a bus to Buenos Aires and then crossed the bay to Uruguay. On the ferry a Finnish guy, Tuukka, came to talk to me. He had noticed my Halti backpack and figured that I'm a Finn. The same thing has happened to me once before, in a local bus to a small village in Fiji in 2003. On this trip to South America I didn't see many Finns. After meeting the tango enthusiasts in Buenos Aires, there was a Finnish couple on the same daytrip in Mendoza. In Chile two Finnish guys had stayed at the same hostel just two days before me. In San Pedro de Atacama I saw the Finnish flag in a bar and was told that the owner, Reijo, is a Finn. In Bolivia there was my friend Kati, and - in the Bolivian jungle I spoke Finnish with a traveller called Zamir, or Sami. He was from Stockholm, Sweden. His mother was a Finn and his father an Israeli.Tuukka told me he had been robbed just before embarking the ferry. On the street, in the daylight, around 8.30 in the morning! Classical case: Some dirty liquid had been spilled on him, two women had appeared asking "Oh, you got it, too? Do you have some water we could use for cleaning our clothes?" Tuukka put down his backpack and started to take out his water bottle. Then there was a man nearby making some weird noise. Tuukka looked up. He knew there was something strange, but it all happened so quick. Before he realised, the women had grabbed his backpack and jumped into a nearby car, which drove away.
Uruguay, the land of mate and gauchos, seemed very European - and for that, after visiting the more exotic countries Bolivia, Peru and Ecuador - somewhat uninteresting to me. It was my last destination and my mind was already home, but I was still able to notice the beauty of the streets lined with trees and the colonial buildings in Montevideo and Colonia del Sacramento.
A park in Montevideo:
A couple waiting for the sunset and drinking mate by the sea in Montevideo:
Restaurants at Mercado del Puerto in Montevideo:
Big trees lining a street in Colonia del Sacramento:
On the morning of my last day in Uruguay an American man from my hostel asked me if he could join me for a walk in the Old Town of Colonia. Old man (recently retired), American, abdominous, wearing a baseball shirt. I wasn't thrilled with his suggestion. But I wasn't horrified either. I guess I was indifferent. "Sure, whatever, why not", I thought. And he turned out to be excellent company for my last day of travelling. After walking around taking photos we had the most delicious lunch and long conversations at a nice restaurant. We talked about his plans to buy a house somewhere in South America, about travelling, relationships, work, cows and bulls... anything. I would just sit and listen admiring, soaking his wisdom of life in. He said something very beautiful about his girlfriend and their relationship, comparing it to finding an excellent wine, after which he doesn't want to drink other wines anymore. I wish I had written down what he said about travelling, commenting about me taking the risk of leaving everything for a while and going backpacking. It was something like "sometimes people get too involved in their routines and don't see the crystals in their lives. Breaking the routines and experiencing something new broadens your mind, gives you perspective on things".
perjantai 6. elokuuta 2010
Paraguay
Everybody has told me there's nothing to see in Paraguay. "Why do you go there - there's nothing for tourists." But I wanted to see it with my own eyes, to form my own opinion. I didn't have much time, but I wanted to go there, even just for two days, to have some kind of an idea of the country. Learning about a country is so much more interesting by going there than just reading in a book.
There's "nothing" in Paraguay - and exactly for that I think I love the country. It's a humble little country without spectacular, highly advertised jewels of nature or culture, there's no biggest this and that: the biggest waterfall, glacier or mountain - they don't have any mountains or glaciers - or the biggest theme park. There are no "you must do this, you must see that"-things. Nobody wants my money (well, the souvenir sellers do), nobody wants me to eat at their restaurant or take their tour. Tourism is not a big industry in Paraguay and the facilities are not very developed. People drink their mate and tereré, mind their own business and let me mind mine. But they are not indifferent, they are ready to have a conversation with the foreigner: a postal worker makes a friendly comment about my cold, a taxi driver talks to me all the way to the bus station. There's only one person who has told me Paraguay is the best country in South America. He was a Polish hitch-hiker who had enjoyed the originality of the country and the hospitality of its people. In the words of my guidebook "what really sets this country apart is the warmth and tranquility of its people".
People drink mate everywhere and anytime: at home and at work, in the streets and in the parks. I saw a guard in front of a bakery shop with a thermos flask and the special cup and straw for mate. At the Ciudad del Este bus station in the morning all the taxi drivers waiting for customers were drinking mate. I also tried the mate and traditional cheese bread chipa in Asunción while waiting for my bus. Now the people drank mostly mate, to keep them warm in the chilly winter weather (around 10 ºC, warmer during the day). In the summer, when temperatures rise up to 40 ºC or even more, mate is drank cold and it's called tereré. In Ciudad del Este I noticed the fans at a restaurant and in my hostel room - which also had a tropical smell, I think it's mold - but freezing in my warmest clothes it was a bit difficult to imagine the summer heat.
Chipa and mate sellers at the bus station in Asunción:
On the way from Ciudad del Este in Eastern Paraguay to Puerto Iguazu in Argentina, the South American reality hit me. First I talked with an Argentinian man who was searching for his 5-year-old daughter who had disappeared on their holiday trip six days ago. Kidnapped? For adoption? For child prostitution? For illicit organ trade? Is there a European couple who's happy to save the world by adopting an "orphan" and to finally have a child, a beautiful Argentinian girl? The man showed photos in his camera and yes, she was a very beautiful girl. So maybe some perverts..? I was thinking to myself, but didn't say it aloud. Suddenly my loss of camera (which I even got back) and 60 USD felt like such a minor thing. "They can take my car, my money, my land and I will survive, but my daughter..." says the man and continues: "I will never stop searching for her." I felt powerless. What had happened was absolutely horrible, and I wanted to help, but there was nothing I could do.
The other thing bringing me back to the reality after all the amazing sight-seeing I've done in South America was a 40-year-old woman in the bus telling that she couldn't read. I don't think that in Finland there's a single adult (except some refugees from Africa) who doesn't know how to read.
p.s. I was curious and did some googling about the missing girl, Eva Luna Montivero, 5 years, and seems that it might be "just" a family tragedy, divorced parents... Mum wanting to have the girl to herself... Sad and horrible anyways, especially thinking about the innocent little child.
There's "nothing" in Paraguay - and exactly for that I think I love the country. It's a humble little country without spectacular, highly advertised jewels of nature or culture, there's no biggest this and that: the biggest waterfall, glacier or mountain - they don't have any mountains or glaciers - or the biggest theme park. There are no "you must do this, you must see that"-things. Nobody wants my money (well, the souvenir sellers do), nobody wants me to eat at their restaurant or take their tour. Tourism is not a big industry in Paraguay and the facilities are not very developed. People drink their mate and tereré, mind their own business and let me mind mine. But they are not indifferent, they are ready to have a conversation with the foreigner: a postal worker makes a friendly comment about my cold, a taxi driver talks to me all the way to the bus station. There's only one person who has told me Paraguay is the best country in South America. He was a Polish hitch-hiker who had enjoyed the originality of the country and the hospitality of its people. In the words of my guidebook "what really sets this country apart is the warmth and tranquility of its people".
People drink mate everywhere and anytime: at home and at work, in the streets and in the parks. I saw a guard in front of a bakery shop with a thermos flask and the special cup and straw for mate. At the Ciudad del Este bus station in the morning all the taxi drivers waiting for customers were drinking mate. I also tried the mate and traditional cheese bread chipa in Asunción while waiting for my bus. Now the people drank mostly mate, to keep them warm in the chilly winter weather (around 10 ºC, warmer during the day). In the summer, when temperatures rise up to 40 ºC or even more, mate is drank cold and it's called tereré. In Ciudad del Este I noticed the fans at a restaurant and in my hostel room - which also had a tropical smell, I think it's mold - but freezing in my warmest clothes it was a bit difficult to imagine the summer heat.
Chipa and mate sellers at the bus station in Asunción:
My first, and only real stop was Asunción, the capital. My Couchsurfing host Javier picked me up from the airport. He was a very nice guy, confident and easy-going, which I knew from the first phone call and could tell the first minute I saw him. After staying a lot at hostels it was nice to do couchsurfing for a change, and I really felt like home at Javier's place - even more than I normally do. In the afternoon I went to explore the center of the city alone. Other travelers had told me it's dangerous, so I was being careful, almost paranoid. I was looking at the people a bit suspiciously, and they did the same to me, I guess because they are not so used to foreigners. But there was absolutely no danger, I was safe all the time, even when walking home alone in the dark. I took the warnings of my host seriously and didn't go to La Chacarita, a shantytown where a lot of poor people live right next to the center. (But I did have a peek from a safe distance.) I spent my afternoon by having a nap by the river Paraguay (the cold I had made me feel tired and I hadn't slept much in the aeroplanes at night) and photographing the beautiful colonial buildings, some of them nicely restored and some in a bad shape. The following day I continued from Asunción to Ciudad del Este, where I stayed the night at a cheap hotel before heading on to Argentina for visiting the Iquazu Falls.
On the way from Ciudad del Este in Eastern Paraguay to Puerto Iguazu in Argentina, the South American reality hit me. First I talked with an Argentinian man who was searching for his 5-year-old daughter who had disappeared on their holiday trip six days ago. Kidnapped? For adoption? For child prostitution? For illicit organ trade? Is there a European couple who's happy to save the world by adopting an "orphan" and to finally have a child, a beautiful Argentinian girl? The man showed photos in his camera and yes, she was a very beautiful girl. So maybe some perverts..? I was thinking to myself, but didn't say it aloud. Suddenly my loss of camera (which I even got back) and 60 USD felt like such a minor thing. "They can take my car, my money, my land and I will survive, but my daughter..." says the man and continues: "I will never stop searching for her." I felt powerless. What had happened was absolutely horrible, and I wanted to help, but there was nothing I could do.
The other thing bringing me back to the reality after all the amazing sight-seeing I've done in South America was a 40-year-old woman in the bus telling that she couldn't read. I don't think that in Finland there's a single adult (except some refugees from Africa) who doesn't know how to read.
p.s. I was curious and did some googling about the missing girl, Eva Luna Montivero, 5 years, and seems that it might be "just" a family tragedy, divorced parents... Mum wanting to have the girl to herself... Sad and horrible anyways, especially thinking about the innocent little child.
keskiviikko 4. elokuuta 2010
Ecuador in a week
After spending a month in Argentina, Chile and Bolivia each and three weeks in Peru, I was left with only a week for Ecuador. I entered the country with a list of places to visit recommended by a Swiss girl who had been living there for a year. During my short stay I went to all of them - and two more! How did I manage to do that? And was it worth it? I think it was. Let me tell you how it happened:
Tuesday 27.7.2010
"There are many great day-walks throughout the area" claims my guidebook, and after updating my blog at an internet cafe, I head for the Rumi Wilco nature reserve. There are nice views from the slope trail, but after recently hiking among the majestic mountains of Cordillera Blanca in Peru this place fails to impress me. I enjoy the tranquility of the village of Vilcabamba and the beauty of the mountaineous coutryside around it, but I still can't understand why the authors of my guidebook have chosen it to the "Don't miss"-list of Ecuador.
In the evening I have a massage and finally get the chance to watch the movie Motorcycle diaries. By paying 4 USD I get a TV and DVD-player in my room. I have enormous expectations for the movie, and it just can't meet them all.
Wednesday 28.7.2010
I get up at 5 am to catch a bus to Loja at 6 am. In the bus I wolf down the packed breakfast prepared for me the night before by the friendly hostel owner. Mmm... homemade integral bread after eating so much tasteless and unhealthy white bread in all these countries. From Loja I continue to the beautiful colonial, UNESCO World Heritage listed city of Cuenca, which I explore for a few hours in the afternoon.
Thursday 29.7.2010
Early in the morning (7-am bus) I head for a town called Baños. The curvy road high in the mountains is stunning, but unfortunately makes the girl sitting behind me vomit time and time again. For a short while a native Quichua woman with a brown-teethed toddler licking a lollipop sits next to me. I'm anxious to give her a lecture on health and hygiene, but manage to remain silent and just smile to the little boy. A little before changing buses in Ambato a man called Jaime sits next to me and we immerse in interesting conversations. He's returning home from a lecturing trip to some universities. He gives me advise how to improve the quality of my life by practising a concentration/meditation technique, then recommends me to rent a bicycle in Baños for exploring the road towards Puyo with several waterfalls as well as encourages me to travel all the way to the coast the next day, which I hadn't planned to do. So, after arriving to Baños and getting a hostel room, following the advise of Jaime, I start my bikeride. Every now and then I stop to photograph the waterfalls and the mountains covered with tropical vegetation. I only have a couple of hours before the sunset, and unfortunately it gets dark when I reach the most spectacular waterfall, El Pailón del Diablo (the Devil's Cauldron). I return by bus and hurry to the thermal baths of Baños de la Virgen before it closes. The place is crowded and there's a lot of noise, which disturbs my relaxation in the hot pools. I muse about my visit to the natural, sand-bottomed and quiet thermal baths of Termas Los Pozones near Pucón in Chile.
Friday 30.7.2010
I have another early wake-up (at 5:30 am) as I have a very long day ahead. Before catching a bus I walk with my two backpacks, the big one on my back and the small one in the front, to the nearby San Francisco bridge to snap a few photos of the deep rocky canyon with river Pastaza below. It's a pity that I don't have time to do any of the walks in the area. I take a bus to Ambato, another to Latagunga and one more to Zumbahua. There I take a taxi to Quilotoa, a volcanic crater filled by a beautiful emerald lake. For an hour I walk around taking lots of photos and admiring the scenery. Then it's time (actually I'm a couple of hours behind the schedule) to continue; I take a bus to Quevedo. I feel euphoric when the bus climbs above the clowds on a mountain road and I'm almost squeezed to the front window, as the bus is absolutely packed with people. I always prefer the panoramic seats in buses - now I have a "panoramico extremo". When we travel down from the clowds through banana groves and small villages I feel like spreading my hands like Scarlett Johansson does at the front of the ship in the movie Titanic (which I recently saw in another bus). From Quevedo I take a bus to Esmeraldas on the coast. In the bus I notice the big number of black people, who I haven't seen in other parts of the country. Later I learn they are descendants of ship-wrecked African slaves. It's a six-hour busride, and I arrive at midnight. Too late to go to the beach, so I take a taxi to a nearby hostel, where I sleep until the morning.
Saturday 31.7.2010
Somebody has recommended me the beach of Atacames, but because my guidebook says it "is a real 24-hour party town", I opt for Súa, "a quiet and friendly little beach resort, set in a beautiful bay". But as I miss the right busstop, I end up further along the coast, to the beach of the village called Tonchigüe. Finally I'm at a Pacific beach warm enough for sunbathing and swimming! I enjoy the sun for a few hours, as well as the company of some local teenagers that have stopped to chat with me and play in the sand. Until I realise that my phone and money are missing! I've never been robbed or haven't lost anything before, and have almost arrogantly wondered if people who get robbed are stupid and careless. Now it has happened to me! I'm shocked and angry at myself for being so blue-eyed, trusting the guys too much and not keeping enough eye on my belongings. The police in the village is not much of a help (it's hard for me to describe what happened, when and who did it, as I didn't notice anyone opening my backpack), but there's a friendly naval officer who will do everything he can to help the crying tourist. He had seen me with the boys, knows them and starts asking and calling around. The power of the community, people knowing each other in a small town, is amazing: after a while I get my phone back! Ask me back home, and I'll laugh at all this. What a scene! I got my lesson, but luckily it wasn't the hardest one. In the evening there's an annual celebration of the Fishers' Day in the village, but I can't stay as I have already bought a ticket to a nightbus to Quito, and anyways I've had enough of the village...
Sunday 1.8.2010
I arrive in Quito before 6 am and have another busride: two hours to Otavalo. What a beautiful area, and the indigenous people here are the most beautiful I've seen during the whole trip! South American Handbook describes their clothing as follows: "Men here wear their hair long and plaited under a broad-trimmed hat; they wear white, calf-length trousers and blue ponchos. The women's colourful costumes consist of embroidered blouses, shoulder wraps and many coloured beads." The girls wearing traditional clothes are very beautiful and the youngmen, even in jeans and hoodies, with their their braded hair are just gorgeous! So, despite the challenges (problems with ATMs, the robbery, and stomach problems I'm having) I still enjoy travelling.
After getting a hostel room and handing over my dirty clothes for laundry I do a few hours' walk over a hill to a lake called San Pablo. I return in the afternoon and admit that "running" so fast through the whole country and taking the nightbus have taken their toll. I really need a nap! And find it hard to get up after two hours to enjoy the last sunbeams.
Monday 2.8.2010
In the morning I take a bus to Quito, the capital. My plan is to walk around the Old City for a few hours, load my photos to a memory stick and go to the airport for my flight to Asunción, Paraguay. First I visit Basilica del Voto Nacional and climb to its belltower to enjoy the views. The city seems enormous to me. Although later I check in my guidebook that it "only" has about 1.4 million inhabitants. The colonial buildings of the UNESCO World Heritage listed Old City are beautiful, but I'm starting to get too tired to fully enjoy them, especially after somebody tries to steal my camera. In the airport I hear that my TACA flight is overbooked and there's no seat for me in the plane. I get flight tickets for the next day, a room and dinner at Holiday Inn and a voucher of 200 USD for TACA flights.
Tuesday 3.8.2010
I'm not in Ecuador anymore, but feel inspired to tell you about this day, too. In the morning I fly to Lima with a plan to spend the day in the city waiting for my connecting flight in the evening. But after arriving I am told I need to pay an airport tax of 31 USD when entering again the airport. I reckon MALI (the art museum of Lima) or the colonial buildings in the centre are not worth paying the tax. When I hear there's no computer with internet for passenger use at the airport - and I have to spend ten hours there - I get really pissed off. I know I need this day of relaxation for reading, drafting my blog and planning my final week of travelling, but it's still annoying to be stuck at the airport without internet. For my next trip I'll definitely buy a small laptop! To calm myself down I read a chapter in the book 'Travelers' Tales. Central America'. I didn't have time to travel to Central America, so I familiarize myself with the area with this book I've found on a book exchange shelf. Reading the book always makes me admire the authors' writing skills and sharp observations. The trick works: I cheer up a bit. By noon I've gone through all the shops at the airport. There's a lot of time for souvenir shopping. Dangerous for my wallet... but luckily "I just physically can't buy anything" (to understand the quote read my first blog update from Chile). I finally call Mum - it's the first time on this trip - and I can hear she's overwhelmed with joy to hear my voice. The food at the airport is expensive, so I buy only a sandwich for lunch. And look, thanks to the day spent at Lima Airport, you can now enjoy reading this text.
Monday 26.7.2010
After travelling the whole night in a bus to Aguas Verdes I cross the border to Huaquillas. Everything is a bit chaotic, it's a new country, and I don't know what's happening and who to trust. Money. I need Ecuadorian money. I am told that the official currency of Ecuador is US dollar (which I could have read in my guidebook in advance). How can an independent country use the currency of another country?! As my trip is soon coming to an end, I decide that later in Ecuador I'll use the 50-dollar bill I've kept hidden under the inner sole of my hiking boot for emergencies. Before my busride to Vilcabamba I try to draw more money from an ATM, but it refuses my credit card. I don't panic, but do get a bit worried. I realise how important it is to always carry a bit of cash. In the evening - after a beautiful 6-hour busride on the green mountains - I try to draw money in Vilcabamba. The ATM says there is a problem with my card. I go to an internet cafe to check my acoount in my internet bank. There is still money and I haven't exceeded the credit limit. Finally, after trying the same ATM five times in a row, I am able to do the withdraval. My hostel, a French-owned place called Le Rendez-Vous, is a very pleasant place. European quality at Ecuadorian prize. After sleeping two nights in buses it feels so good to take a shower and have a good night's sleep in the doublebed of my clean and cosy little room.
Photo: At the border
Photo: At the border
"There are many great day-walks throughout the area" claims my guidebook, and after updating my blog at an internet cafe, I head for the Rumi Wilco nature reserve. There are nice views from the slope trail, but after recently hiking among the majestic mountains of Cordillera Blanca in Peru this place fails to impress me. I enjoy the tranquility of the village of Vilcabamba and the beauty of the mountaineous coutryside around it, but I still can't understand why the authors of my guidebook have chosen it to the "Don't miss"-list of Ecuador.
In the evening I have a massage and finally get the chance to watch the movie Motorcycle diaries. By paying 4 USD I get a TV and DVD-player in my room. I have enormous expectations for the movie, and it just can't meet them all.
Wednesday 28.7.2010
I get up at 5 am to catch a bus to Loja at 6 am. In the bus I wolf down the packed breakfast prepared for me the night before by the friendly hostel owner. Mmm... homemade integral bread after eating so much tasteless and unhealthy white bread in all these countries. From Loja I continue to the beautiful colonial, UNESCO World Heritage listed city of Cuenca, which I explore for a few hours in the afternoon.
Thursday 29.7.2010
Early in the morning (7-am bus) I head for a town called Baños. The curvy road high in the mountains is stunning, but unfortunately makes the girl sitting behind me vomit time and time again. For a short while a native Quichua woman with a brown-teethed toddler licking a lollipop sits next to me. I'm anxious to give her a lecture on health and hygiene, but manage to remain silent and just smile to the little boy. A little before changing buses in Ambato a man called Jaime sits next to me and we immerse in interesting conversations. He's returning home from a lecturing trip to some universities. He gives me advise how to improve the quality of my life by practising a concentration/meditation technique, then recommends me to rent a bicycle in Baños for exploring the road towards Puyo with several waterfalls as well as encourages me to travel all the way to the coast the next day, which I hadn't planned to do. So, after arriving to Baños and getting a hostel room, following the advise of Jaime, I start my bikeride. Every now and then I stop to photograph the waterfalls and the mountains covered with tropical vegetation. I only have a couple of hours before the sunset, and unfortunately it gets dark when I reach the most spectacular waterfall, El Pailón del Diablo (the Devil's Cauldron). I return by bus and hurry to the thermal baths of Baños de la Virgen before it closes. The place is crowded and there's a lot of noise, which disturbs my relaxation in the hot pools. I muse about my visit to the natural, sand-bottomed and quiet thermal baths of Termas Los Pozones near Pucón in Chile.
Friday 30.7.2010
I have another early wake-up (at 5:30 am) as I have a very long day ahead. Before catching a bus I walk with my two backpacks, the big one on my back and the small one in the front, to the nearby San Francisco bridge to snap a few photos of the deep rocky canyon with river Pastaza below. It's a pity that I don't have time to do any of the walks in the area. I take a bus to Ambato, another to Latagunga and one more to Zumbahua. There I take a taxi to Quilotoa, a volcanic crater filled by a beautiful emerald lake. For an hour I walk around taking lots of photos and admiring the scenery. Then it's time (actually I'm a couple of hours behind the schedule) to continue; I take a bus to Quevedo. I feel euphoric when the bus climbs above the clowds on a mountain road and I'm almost squeezed to the front window, as the bus is absolutely packed with people. I always prefer the panoramic seats in buses - now I have a "panoramico extremo". When we travel down from the clowds through banana groves and small villages I feel like spreading my hands like Scarlett Johansson does at the front of the ship in the movie Titanic (which I recently saw in another bus). From Quevedo I take a bus to Esmeraldas on the coast. In the bus I notice the big number of black people, who I haven't seen in other parts of the country. Later I learn they are descendants of ship-wrecked African slaves. It's a six-hour busride, and I arrive at midnight. Too late to go to the beach, so I take a taxi to a nearby hostel, where I sleep until the morning.
Saturday 31.7.2010
Somebody has recommended me the beach of Atacames, but because my guidebook says it "is a real 24-hour party town", I opt for Súa, "a quiet and friendly little beach resort, set in a beautiful bay". But as I miss the right busstop, I end up further along the coast, to the beach of the village called Tonchigüe. Finally I'm at a Pacific beach warm enough for sunbathing and swimming! I enjoy the sun for a few hours, as well as the company of some local teenagers that have stopped to chat with me and play in the sand. Until I realise that my phone and money are missing! I've never been robbed or haven't lost anything before, and have almost arrogantly wondered if people who get robbed are stupid and careless. Now it has happened to me! I'm shocked and angry at myself for being so blue-eyed, trusting the guys too much and not keeping enough eye on my belongings. The police in the village is not much of a help (it's hard for me to describe what happened, when and who did it, as I didn't notice anyone opening my backpack), but there's a friendly naval officer who will do everything he can to help the crying tourist. He had seen me with the boys, knows them and starts asking and calling around. The power of the community, people knowing each other in a small town, is amazing: after a while I get my phone back! Ask me back home, and I'll laugh at all this. What a scene! I got my lesson, but luckily it wasn't the hardest one. In the evening there's an annual celebration of the Fishers' Day in the village, but I can't stay as I have already bought a ticket to a nightbus to Quito, and anyways I've had enough of the village...
Sunday 1.8.2010
I arrive in Quito before 6 am and have another busride: two hours to Otavalo. What a beautiful area, and the indigenous people here are the most beautiful I've seen during the whole trip! South American Handbook describes their clothing as follows: "Men here wear their hair long and plaited under a broad-trimmed hat; they wear white, calf-length trousers and blue ponchos. The women's colourful costumes consist of embroidered blouses, shoulder wraps and many coloured beads." The girls wearing traditional clothes are very beautiful and the youngmen, even in jeans and hoodies, with their their braded hair are just gorgeous! So, despite the challenges (problems with ATMs, the robbery, and stomach problems I'm having) I still enjoy travelling.
After getting a hostel room and handing over my dirty clothes for laundry I do a few hours' walk over a hill to a lake called San Pablo. I return in the afternoon and admit that "running" so fast through the whole country and taking the nightbus have taken their toll. I really need a nap! And find it hard to get up after two hours to enjoy the last sunbeams.
Monday 2.8.2010
In the morning I take a bus to Quito, the capital. My plan is to walk around the Old City for a few hours, load my photos to a memory stick and go to the airport for my flight to Asunción, Paraguay. First I visit Basilica del Voto Nacional and climb to its belltower to enjoy the views. The city seems enormous to me. Although later I check in my guidebook that it "only" has about 1.4 million inhabitants. The colonial buildings of the UNESCO World Heritage listed Old City are beautiful, but I'm starting to get too tired to fully enjoy them, especially after somebody tries to steal my camera. In the airport I hear that my TACA flight is overbooked and there's no seat for me in the plane. I get flight tickets for the next day, a room and dinner at Holiday Inn and a voucher of 200 USD for TACA flights.
Tuesday 3.8.2010
I'm not in Ecuador anymore, but feel inspired to tell you about this day, too. In the morning I fly to Lima with a plan to spend the day in the city waiting for my connecting flight in the evening. But after arriving I am told I need to pay an airport tax of 31 USD when entering again the airport. I reckon MALI (the art museum of Lima) or the colonial buildings in the centre are not worth paying the tax. When I hear there's no computer with internet for passenger use at the airport - and I have to spend ten hours there - I get really pissed off. I know I need this day of relaxation for reading, drafting my blog and planning my final week of travelling, but it's still annoying to be stuck at the airport without internet. For my next trip I'll definitely buy a small laptop! To calm myself down I read a chapter in the book 'Travelers' Tales. Central America'. I didn't have time to travel to Central America, so I familiarize myself with the area with this book I've found on a book exchange shelf. Reading the book always makes me admire the authors' writing skills and sharp observations. The trick works: I cheer up a bit. By noon I've gone through all the shops at the airport. There's a lot of time for souvenir shopping. Dangerous for my wallet... but luckily "I just physically can't buy anything" (to understand the quote read my first blog update from Chile). I finally call Mum - it's the first time on this trip - and I can hear she's overwhelmed with joy to hear my voice. The food at the airport is expensive, so I buy only a sandwich for lunch. And look, thanks to the day spent at Lima Airport, you can now enjoy reading this text.
sunnuntai 25. heinäkuuta 2010
Four days in a paradise
How amazing was my experience of doing the Santa Cruz trek in Cordillera Blanca! I definitely don't regret buying a guided 4-day hiking trip from Galaxia Expeditions. Actually I was planning to do it in three days, as I'm short of time, but I was enjoying it so much that I didn't want to go earlier than the rest of the group. Our group was really nice, a mixture of Europeans, an American and a Japanese photographer, a total of 6 people aged 28-44. We were attended to by a crew of three: Vicente was looking after the mules that carried our tents, food and backpacks; Umberto cooked us real restaurant food in challenging conditions and Lucas, our guide, was the coolest, sportiest and most handsome youngman with a lot of patience. "This is a dream, this is a paradise!" I heard people saying while we were walking in the valleys surrounded by majestic mountains, some of them snowcapped. The highest point was Punta Union, 4750 meters. Luckily I was already acclimatized! There were cows, horses and mules grazing free the pastures in the valleys. Several times I tried to approach the cows and beutiful little calves, but they always went away. We also saw several lagoons, one with a glacier behind it - maybe the last glacier I see on this trip. Every night there was a small river with cold water where I'd dip myself into to wash away the sweat, dirt and sunscreen - and maybe also to show that I'm a tough girl from Finland. The weather was perfect: beautiful sunshine every day. Only the nights were a bit too cold: the first two nights the temperature dropped below zero and there was some frost. Drinking bottles filled with hot water that I put in my sleeping bag helped a bit (great idea, I'll start doing that in Finland, too!), but it was still difficult to sleep.
A view on the way back by minibus from the mountains to Huaraz:
Back in the busy city of Huaraz:
A view on the way back by minibus from the mountains to Huaraz:
Back in the busy city of Huaraz:
I recently read that a bus with 60 passengers had been robbed in Lima. I normally avoid travelling at night time, although not so much for the safety, but to see the landscapes. From Huaraz I took a night bus to Trujillo, and was definitely safe with Movil Tours. Our passports were checked before entering the bus, there was a security guy with a metal detector at the entrance, and when everyone was sitting in the bus, we were videofilmed. At a police control point the bus stopped and the ID cards of the Peruvian passengers were collected for a check-up. Later I read in Movil Tours' brochure that they also have a satellite tracking of the buses and they do alcohol tests to the drivers every day. Some other bus companies take the fingerprints of their passengers.I travelled to Trujillo in order to visit the nearby seaside village of Huanchaco. The day was cloudy and grey, as if reflecting my sad feelings after having to leave Huaraz after such a wonderful time spent there. I spent my day in Huanchaco walking on the beach observing the big waves break, crabs hide in the sand and surf school students practise near the shore.
lauantai 17. heinäkuuta 2010
Mountains and ruins
One by one my travel mates catch some nasty microscopic creatures in their stomach and get sick. First Andres had so tremendous stomach ache he could hardly walk, and I left him in Cochabamba as I "had to" continue my journey. (We were anyways planning to only take a bus to La Paz together and then go our own ways.) Later I heard the reason for his suffering: intestinal inflammation caused by amoebas.
Then I met my Couchsurfing friend Kati in Cusco for going together to Machu Picchu, and luckily could stay with the same Couchsurfing host, Daniel, a circus artist, in his nice flat with great views over the city.
There are several ways to get to Machu Picchu: taking a hiking tour with a guide on some of the Inka trails, a train (which is fast but expensive) or travelling the whole day by several local buses and walking two hours at the end. Kati and I were planning to do the latter on Monday, but Sunday night Kati had fever and in the morning a diarrhea. The reason was found in lab tests: parasites! She got antibiotics and we decided to start our trip the following morning. Unfortunately the medicine didn't work so quickly and an early departure wasn't possible. But Kati was such a brave girl that at noon she was ready to leave even though she wasn't completely well. We took minibuses through Urubamba to Ollantaytambo, admiring the beautiful views of the Sacred Valley of the Inkas on the way. From Ollantaytambo we had decided to continue by train, but had to wait until the following morning. Kati stayed resting in our hostel room while I had a pleasant walk to the next village. Deep down I'm a real country girl and enjoyed seeing animals grazing and people working on the fields. It felt so good to escape the tourist crowds, too.
The next morning we arrived in Aguas Calientes, the Machu Picchu village close to the mountains with the ruins. I wanted to walk up, while Kati would take the bus. (Later I found out she had been too sick to leave the hostel room. Her turn came the next day when she was slightly better.) After 1,5 hours of climbing up the path consisting of stone steps I arrived to the entrance, all sweaty and short of breath. While travelling to the village I had been thinking that the pile of stones had better be worth all that effort and money I wasted getting there. Well... it sure was! Just the surrounding lush green mountains alone would have been worth it. And yes, the ruins were impressive. A friend of mine, who's travelled in Peru for 9 months, told me Machu Picchu is not the best place. So I wonder how amazingly impressive the best ruins in Peru are... But I don't have time to find out. Machu Picchu was easily accessible and anyway it's one of the new seven wonders of the world.
Travelling with other people can be complicated. Kati is a very nice girl, pleasant company and I sure enjoyed our chats. But sometimes I couldn't help getting frustrated with all the waiting and delays. I was energetic and wanted to do things and she, naturally, needed a lot of rest and had to go to the doctor. I felt selfish about being so restless and thinking about losing days when she definitely hadn't chosen it herself to get sick. Kati, in turn, felt bad that my schedule got messed up because of her sickness.
But there was something excellent about spending more time than intended: we were in town during 'Fiesta de la Virgen del Carmen', so I could see a real South American carneval. There were groups playing music with flutes and drums and dancing in excuisite costumes.
There are thousands of visitors at Machu Picchu every day and Aguas Calientes was nothing but a tourist town. Hotels & hostels, restaurants, massage, souvenirs... "Excuse me, miss..." people were harrassing with menus and leaflets. After seeing Machu Picchu I just wanted to get out of the place. And this time I wanted to take the long way. Not only for the money, but also for the scenery. Kati was still sick so she took the train. The first two hours I walked a path following a railway line, a river on my left side and a tropical forest on my right, with mountains on both sides. I liked the surroundings so much that I almost wanted to stay there.
I decided to walk the next part, too, a road to Santa Teresa. I can't describe, and just barely remember, the feeling of freedom I had walking there alone in the middle of big mountains and by a fast-flowing river. Arriving in the village of Santa Teresa I was greeted by a rooster crossing the road. It's exotic, although there's nothing new in seeing animals on the road here. During a recent busride I first saw a dog, then a donkey crossing the road, a bull pulling its tether and lastly a few goats. The next sight that caught my interest in the village was slaughtering of a bull. I didn't see the killing, but I observed and photographed cutting the meat and rinsing the intestines.
Then I met my Couchsurfing friend Kati in Cusco for going together to Machu Picchu, and luckily could stay with the same Couchsurfing host, Daniel, a circus artist, in his nice flat with great views over the city.
There are several ways to get to Machu Picchu: taking a hiking tour with a guide on some of the Inka trails, a train (which is fast but expensive) or travelling the whole day by several local buses and walking two hours at the end. Kati and I were planning to do the latter on Monday, but Sunday night Kati had fever and in the morning a diarrhea. The reason was found in lab tests: parasites! She got antibiotics and we decided to start our trip the following morning. Unfortunately the medicine didn't work so quickly and an early departure wasn't possible. But Kati was such a brave girl that at noon she was ready to leave even though she wasn't completely well. We took minibuses through Urubamba to Ollantaytambo, admiring the beautiful views of the Sacred Valley of the Inkas on the way. From Ollantaytambo we had decided to continue by train, but had to wait until the following morning. Kati stayed resting in our hostel room while I had a pleasant walk to the next village. Deep down I'm a real country girl and enjoyed seeing animals grazing and people working on the fields. It felt so good to escape the tourist crowds, too.
The next morning we arrived in Aguas Calientes, the Machu Picchu village close to the mountains with the ruins. I wanted to walk up, while Kati would take the bus. (Later I found out she had been too sick to leave the hostel room. Her turn came the next day when she was slightly better.) After 1,5 hours of climbing up the path consisting of stone steps I arrived to the entrance, all sweaty and short of breath. While travelling to the village I had been thinking that the pile of stones had better be worth all that effort and money I wasted getting there. Well... it sure was! Just the surrounding lush green mountains alone would have been worth it. And yes, the ruins were impressive. A friend of mine, who's travelled in Peru for 9 months, told me Machu Picchu is not the best place. So I wonder how amazingly impressive the best ruins in Peru are... But I don't have time to find out. Machu Picchu was easily accessible and anyway it's one of the new seven wonders of the world.
Travelling with other people can be complicated. Kati is a very nice girl, pleasant company and I sure enjoyed our chats. But sometimes I couldn't help getting frustrated with all the waiting and delays. I was energetic and wanted to do things and she, naturally, needed a lot of rest and had to go to the doctor. I felt selfish about being so restless and thinking about losing days when she definitely hadn't chosen it herself to get sick. Kati, in turn, felt bad that my schedule got messed up because of her sickness.But there was something excellent about spending more time than intended: we were in town during 'Fiesta de la Virgen del Carmen', so I could see a real South American carneval. There were groups playing music with flutes and drums and dancing in excuisite costumes.
There are thousands of visitors at Machu Picchu every day and Aguas Calientes was nothing but a tourist town. Hotels & hostels, restaurants, massage, souvenirs... "Excuse me, miss..." people were harrassing with menus and leaflets. After seeing Machu Picchu I just wanted to get out of the place. And this time I wanted to take the long way. Not only for the money, but also for the scenery. Kati was still sick so she took the train. The first two hours I walked a path following a railway line, a river on my left side and a tropical forest on my right, with mountains on both sides. I liked the surroundings so much that I almost wanted to stay there.
I decided to walk the next part, too, a road to Santa Teresa. I can't describe, and just barely remember, the feeling of freedom I had walking there alone in the middle of big mountains and by a fast-flowing river. Arriving in the village of Santa Teresa I was greeted by a rooster crossing the road. It's exotic, although there's nothing new in seeing animals on the road here. During a recent busride I first saw a dog, then a donkey crossing the road, a bull pulling its tether and lastly a few goats. The next sight that caught my interest in the village was slaughtering of a bull. I didn't see the killing, but I observed and photographed cutting the meat and rinsing the intestines.
From Santa Teresa I took a shared taxi to the next village, Santa Maria. The scenery along the way was stunning: the canyon seemed as deep as the Colca canyon, but the mountains had more vegetation. In Santa Maria I changed to a minibus going all the way to Cusco. We were supposed to arrive around 9.30 pm but there was a surprise in the mountains: snow! The line of vehicles moved slowly and stopped every now and then, causing us a delay of two hours.
From Cusco I took a bus to Lima; 20 hours of watching beautiful mountain landscapes and sleeping. I had been warned that Lima is grey and ugly. That was true; two hours in the city this morning was enough for me. Even though I wanted to escape the bad climate and smog, on the way to my next bus I asked the taxi driver to make a short tour in the centre. I saw many beautiful old buildings - It is for a reason that Lima is a Unesco-listed city.
Tonight I arrived in Huaraz, in the Cordillera Blanca, with a plan to continue to Caraz and do some day-trips on my own. But I let a tour operator, who had come to meet prospective customers at the bus station, talk a bit too long to me and finally got convinced to take a 3-day hiking trip. I didn't really want to follow a guide, nor be in a group after being in the middle a "cat-fight" of the German and the Israeli girl in the Bolivian jungle... But I do want some excersice and nice views, so I hope I won't regret.
perjantai 9. heinäkuuta 2010
From Bolivia to Peru
I have an amazing ability to torture myself: I returned from Rurrenabaque by bus (ref. an earlier blog update). Back in La Paz I felt weak due to the altitude, but saved the day by going to the movies in the evening to see 'Sex and the City 2'. I couldn't have waited until I'm back in Finland, and it was good to escape the Bolivian reality for two hours. The next day I visited the Coca Museum, walked around the city and spent several hours on the computer updating my blog, downloading photos, buying a flight ticket... 
My next stop was the enormous lake Titicaca, one of the highest navigable lakes in the world and the largest in South America. The town of Copacabana was too touristy to my taste, but I really enjoyed my excursion to the island of Isla del Sol: seeing the Inca ruins, dipping into the lake at an empty beach, walking through the island and enjoying my breakfast with an amazing view to the lake.
From Copacabana I travelled straight to Arequipa, Peru. I had a very nice guy sitting next to me, and we were chatting the whole way - a good practice for my Spanish. Just before arriving I got something to add to my stories about busrides: we had a flat tire.
The next morning I headed for Colca, a canyon twice as deep as the Grand Canyon. On the way I met an American guy and two girls from the Czech Republic. We teamed up and decided to get up at 5 am the following morning in order to get an early start for our hike into the canyon. As much as I hate getting up early, it was a good decision, as we could do the zig-zag path along the steep mountain side down to the river at the bottom of the canyon before the sun hit us. It was a descent of about 1000 meters. Then it was a sweaty hike up to the village of Talca, where we had lunch (alpaca, rice and tomatoes at a very basic restaurant) and a siesta. People live at weird places: the only transport to and from the village is by mules via the 4-hour mountain trail. Despite the amazing landscapes I might not be able to live there... In the afternoon we walked down to Oasis, a place offering dinner and accomodation in basic bungalows. The following morning the Czech girls walked up to Cabanaconde to return to Arequipa, whereas William, the American, had decided to continue to a waterfall about 5 hours away. I felt like having a bit more excercise - to my surprise my knees were ok after the long hike down to the canyon - so I stayed with Will. Unfortunately we got lost twice that morning. The path we had been following - a narrow path and partly a bit scary due to the altitude and the steep drop down - suddendly ended into a land of bush and cacti. We had to climb up the hill to see another path - this time obviously the correct one. But we had lost a lot of time and I was so tired that I decided to forget about the waterfall and just head back to Cabanaconde. I was planning to have lunch in the village of Paclla on the way. But there are only four old people living in the village and the señora who has a small shop and cooks for hikers wasn't home. The old man I met advised me to continue to the next village of Llahuar - which proved out to be just two houses offering accomodation. On the way there I suddenly saw a snake on the path. "Oh, fuck!" slipped out of my mouth as I stepped back. I'm really afraid of snakes, but as the snake wasn't moving, I managed to keep calm and take photos of it. But it did scare me out; I started to think how dangerous it was to walk alone in those mountains. In the next village the people told me that the snake wasn't poisonous. And later in Arequipa I was also told that a snake symbolises 'Pachamama', Mother Earth, so it was a lucky sign and I would now have the wisdom of the earth. Anyways, after getting lost and seeing the snake I just wanted to get out of the damn valley, no matter how peaceful and beutiful it was. After having a good lunch in Llahuar I felt much better. Even though the hostel owner tried to convince me to stay the night, enjoy the swimming pool and walk back to Cabanaconde early in the morning, I decided to go. But it meant that I had to walk the last two hours in the dark. Luckily I had my headlamp and the trail was wide. I've never been so happy to see animal dung - seeing mule poo on the trail always proved I was on the correct trail. I was tired after about 12 hours of walking, but just kept going. Finally, a little before 8 pm I arrived in Cabanaconde. It felt a bit like going to the Middle Ages. (Although there was electricity and street lamps.) Adobe houses, donkeys, women wearing scarves on their shoulders, a massive old church next to the central square...
Now I'm in Cusco where I met again my friend Kati, who hosted me in Cochabamba, Bolivia. Tomorrow we'll start our trip to Machu Picchu.
In the jungle, the mighty jungle...
Green mountains slowly change to flatter forest land as we travel in a small wooden motorboat upstream of Beni river. We're going for a 3-day excursion from Rurrenabaque to the jungle in the Madidi national park. By 'we' I refer to our group: a German girl called Laura, three people from Israel and me.After two hours on the boat and a ten-minute walk we arrive at the camp: an area cleared of undergrowth, with some trees left to give shadow, basic wooden huts for sleeping and a bigger kitchen building. We introduce ourselves to our guide Juda, a 31-year-old biologist and a son of a Bolivian shaman.
We have lunch and then start our first walk in the surrounding jungle. There is a lot of vegetation, but it's not impenetrable. After ten minutes I wouldn't find my way back and I'm wondering if our guide knows every square meter of the forest. I guess for some Bolivian people the forests near my childhood home would look all the same, whereas there I can find my way out easily. Juda, the guide, cuts a palm leaf and skillfully plaits a carry bag for the water bottle of Asaf, an Israeli guy. He also finds a special tree, grates some of its bark with his machete and lets us taste natural antimalarial medicine, quinine. The first animals we see - and hear and smell - are wild pigs, dozens of them, running away fast when they notice us.
On the second day, after a good sleep at the jungle camp and a good breakfast prepared by the cook, we go for our second walk in the forest. Juda shows us 'arbol de leche', the "milk tree", and makes a small cut on its trunk. The white liquid that leaks from the cut is a remedy for bites of poisonous spiders and snakes. Otherwise you might die in an hour after a bite, but drinking 200 ml of this "milk" gives you 3-4 days time to get to the doctor. We ask if Juda has ever needed this medicine, and he shows small scars on his thumb: a cobra has once bitten him when he was doing research in the Peruvian jungle. Another tree that Juda shows us that day has roots containing clear jelly that can be used like aloe vera. We apply it on our numerous mosquito bites. Absolutely the coolest thing we do during that walk is swinging on a liana!
After lunch and a rest we leave for our second walk of the day, with a plan to stay in the forest until dark. The only animals we manage to spot are spiders and a nocturnal monkey up in a tree, only its eyes glowing in the beam of the flashlight.
That night, like the previous one, we go to the beach by the river. This time I have my bikini and towel with me. I trust Juda's word that it is safe to go into the water and enjoy my swim in the moonlight.
On the third day we only have time for one walk. Somewhere in the forest Juda picks up a small coconut, cuts it in half and takes out a thick, white catepillar. "You eat these?" somebody asks. "Yes." I take the live little creature in my hand and after confirming that I won't die I take a bite. Creamy, brownish liquid, like thick hot chocolate, bursts out. It has a mild taste of a nut. The next one I put in my mouth as a whole. Back at the camp an Israeli girl asks Juda: "How can you eat catepillars?" I guess it is not kosher for the Jews. Convincingly, almost annoyed the guide replies: "That food is natural. Everything that the people of the jungle eat is 100 percent natural. How can you eat at McDonald's?"
During our walks in the jungle Juda also shows us different kinds of ants: small ones that you can mix with water for an energy drink, fire ants whose bite causes you 24 hours of burning pain and ants that you can use for sewing cuts on your skin. On one of the walks Juda cuts a branch of a tree and we drink the water leaking inside of it.
And finally, on the last walk it happens: Juda notices something on the ground and runs after it - a cobra! He waves to us to get closer and we start taking photos of the yellow, 2-meter-long snake that has slithered to a tree.
(A few more photos can be found on my Facebook profile.)
keskiviikko 30. kesäkuuta 2010
What if this bus falls down into the gorge..?!
Near La Paz, there is a mountain road advertised as "the most dangerous road in the world". I refuse to do a mountain bike tour on that "death road", because I don't like scary things and I'm also annoyed by the commercialism, as if every traveller should do it! But later I realise I end up doing something more scary.
I decide to travel to Rurrenabaque, a small, relaxed town about 400 km from La Paz, in order to visit Madidi national park. In the morning I take a taxi to the street outside the center where the northbound buses leave. When I see the bus with big double tires I figure it might be a rough ride. I have no idea! Rough is a mild expression for the scariest road I've ever travelled. The first three hours to Coroico the road is paved and has barriers. The views to the green mountains and valleys are breathtaking. And finally I can hear some Bolivian music in the bus instead of watching American movies.
After Coroico the road is not flat and safe like I had assumed, but a narrow gravel road along the mountain sides. Of course without any barriers! I can't help thinking about what would happen if the driver made a small mistake and the bus would fall into the gorge. I sit upstairs in the first row with the best - but also the scariest - view. There are no seatbelts. My hands are sweating and sometimes I grab my hair out of fear when we go to a curve. Somewhere on the way the bus stops. The engine starts, but doesn't stay running. In about an hour the driver fixes the motor and we can continue. After that I have a bit more confidence in his driving skills, too.
At 6 pm we stop in a small town for dinner. I go to a restaurant with a Portuguese guy, the only foreigner in the bus in addition to me. A soup and the main course of meat, rice and salad cost only 10 bolivianos (1.20 EUR).
The journey continues in the dark and it feels quite absurd to be there, travelling on the bumpy and winding road, seeing banana trees and other tropical vegetation on the side of the road and listening to the music played in the bus - technopop from my teenage years! "Bum digi digi digi bum digi bum, think about the way how we live today..." (This piece of lyrics actually contains an important message.) Another interesting thing in the bus is the smell. The only air-conditioning is the wind from the few open windows. Everybody is sweating and I can only guess how uncomfortable the local women must feel in their wide dresses.
When we stop at a police control point and have to get out of the bus, I swear to the Portuguese guy: "I'm sooooo going to fly back!" The bus costs 60 Bs. (7 EUR), whereas a flight is almost ten times more, 480 Bs. (60 EUR). Later in Rurrenabaque I hear that the last accident happened two years ago. Counting the amount of buses, something around 2000 busrides per year on that road, I come to the conclusion it isn't so dangerous after all. Back home I've had two accidents with a deer and a moose on the road. Several people die in Finland every year in such accidents. But there you don't feel the danger...
At 7:40 am, after travelling the whole day and night, almost 20 hours (a distance of only 400 km!) I finally arrive in Rurrenabaque. I get my dusty backpack from the trunk of the bus and get a ride to my hostel at the back of the hostel owner's motorcycle. I'm exhausted, but happy to be alive and immediately like the laid-back tropical town where everyone moves around with a motorbike (without helmets, of course!) and chickens roam freely in the gardens.
I decide to travel to Rurrenabaque, a small, relaxed town about 400 km from La Paz, in order to visit Madidi national park. In the morning I take a taxi to the street outside the center where the northbound buses leave. When I see the bus with big double tires I figure it might be a rough ride. I have no idea! Rough is a mild expression for the scariest road I've ever travelled. The first three hours to Coroico the road is paved and has barriers. The views to the green mountains and valleys are breathtaking. And finally I can hear some Bolivian music in the bus instead of watching American movies.
After Coroico the road is not flat and safe like I had assumed, but a narrow gravel road along the mountain sides. Of course without any barriers! I can't help thinking about what would happen if the driver made a small mistake and the bus would fall into the gorge. I sit upstairs in the first row with the best - but also the scariest - view. There are no seatbelts. My hands are sweating and sometimes I grab my hair out of fear when we go to a curve. Somewhere on the way the bus stops. The engine starts, but doesn't stay running. In about an hour the driver fixes the motor and we can continue. After that I have a bit more confidence in his driving skills, too.
At 6 pm we stop in a small town for dinner. I go to a restaurant with a Portuguese guy, the only foreigner in the bus in addition to me. A soup and the main course of meat, rice and salad cost only 10 bolivianos (1.20 EUR).
The journey continues in the dark and it feels quite absurd to be there, travelling on the bumpy and winding road, seeing banana trees and other tropical vegetation on the side of the road and listening to the music played in the bus - technopop from my teenage years! "Bum digi digi digi bum digi bum, think about the way how we live today..." (This piece of lyrics actually contains an important message.) Another interesting thing in the bus is the smell. The only air-conditioning is the wind from the few open windows. Everybody is sweating and I can only guess how uncomfortable the local women must feel in their wide dresses.
When we stop at a police control point and have to get out of the bus, I swear to the Portuguese guy: "I'm sooooo going to fly back!" The bus costs 60 Bs. (7 EUR), whereas a flight is almost ten times more, 480 Bs. (60 EUR). Later in Rurrenabaque I hear that the last accident happened two years ago. Counting the amount of buses, something around 2000 busrides per year on that road, I come to the conclusion it isn't so dangerous after all. Back home I've had two accidents with a deer and a moose on the road. Several people die in Finland every year in such accidents. But there you don't feel the danger...
At 7:40 am, after travelling the whole day and night, almost 20 hours (a distance of only 400 km!) I finally arrive in Rurrenabaque. I get my dusty backpack from the trunk of the bus and get a ride to my hostel at the back of the hostel owner's motorcycle. I'm exhausted, but happy to be alive and immediately like the laid-back tropical town where everyone moves around with a motorbike (without helmets, of course!) and chickens roam freely in the gardens.
tiistai 29. kesäkuuta 2010
Celebrating New Year
For the Aymara people of the Central Andes - one of the biggest indigenous groups of Bolivia - the southern hemisphere's winter solstice is the start of the new agricultural cycle. It is a day of traditions and festivities. Near Cochabamba it is celebrated at the Inka-Rakay ruins on a mountain where people gather the night before 21 June to wait for the key moment, the sunrise. As I happened to be in the area, I wanted to seize the opportunity and headed there with my friend Kati.
Right after arriving, at 8 pm, staying up all night waiting for the sunrise felt like such a long time. But after walking around and admiring the citylights in the Cochabamba valley we almost forgot about the time when we sat around the bonfire of some highschool-aged boys, drank singani (the national spirit distilled from grapes) and chew coca leaves. It is very common to see local people stuffing dried coca leaves in their mouth or see their cheek bulging with the ball of coca. In the highlands of Bolivia, Peru, Ecuador and Columbia the cultivation and consumption of coca is as much a part of the national culture as wine is to France. (Later in La Paz when I visited the Coca Museum I learned that according to Carter and Mamani's study 92 % of men and 89 % of women chew coca in rural areas of Bolivia.) Coca is used as a stimulant to overcome fatigue, hunger, and thirst. It is considered particularly effective against altitude sickness. And please note that chewing coca is something totally different from using cocaine. For me it was the first time I tried coca. It felt and tasted a bit weard - like putting leaves of the birch whisk used in sauna in my mouth. And I'm not sure if I really felt any of the effects... The next morning my cheek was slightly numb; I could still feel the ball of coca there.
I talked with a highshool student sitting next to me and found out that he's been working since he was 7 years old. He works in the morning and goes to school in the afternoon. He had started by washing trufis (shared taxis) and earned 3 bolivianos per vehicle. Washing 10 per day constituted him a wage of 30 Bs./day (3.50 EUR) . Nowadays he is selling and fixing mobile phones. Here in Bolivia it is not rear to see children working. In Potosí many are working in the mines. In all big cities children, and adults as well, go from table to table in restaurants trying to sell chewing gum, chocolate and cigarettes. I've also seen boys offering shoeshine services. Luckily I haven't stumbled upon child prostitution, but according to Wikipedia it is a serious problem in Bolivia.
While waiting for the big moment, the sunrise, we could enjoy performances of a group playing traditional music with flutes and a drum. And finally it happened: the round, shiny thing came in sight behind the mountains on the horizon. Suddenly there was so much more light. I must say it was a magical moment. The music performances started again and lasted for the whole morning.
Back in Cochabamba - no, I didn't go to sleep - I had a shower, packed my backpack and took a bus to La Paz. My travel mate Andrés had a severe stomach ache and stayed with his brother - whom he hadn't seen for ten years.
Right after arriving, at 8 pm, staying up all night waiting for the sunrise felt like such a long time. But after walking around and admiring the citylights in the Cochabamba valley we almost forgot about the time when we sat around the bonfire of some highschool-aged boys, drank singani (the national spirit distilled from grapes) and chew coca leaves. It is very common to see local people stuffing dried coca leaves in their mouth or see their cheek bulging with the ball of coca. In the highlands of Bolivia, Peru, Ecuador and Columbia the cultivation and consumption of coca is as much a part of the national culture as wine is to France. (Later in La Paz when I visited the Coca Museum I learned that according to Carter and Mamani's study 92 % of men and 89 % of women chew coca in rural areas of Bolivia.) Coca is used as a stimulant to overcome fatigue, hunger, and thirst. It is considered particularly effective against altitude sickness. And please note that chewing coca is something totally different from using cocaine. For me it was the first time I tried coca. It felt and tasted a bit weard - like putting leaves of the birch whisk used in sauna in my mouth. And I'm not sure if I really felt any of the effects... The next morning my cheek was slightly numb; I could still feel the ball of coca there.
I talked with a highshool student sitting next to me and found out that he's been working since he was 7 years old. He works in the morning and goes to school in the afternoon. He had started by washing trufis (shared taxis) and earned 3 bolivianos per vehicle. Washing 10 per day constituted him a wage of 30 Bs./day (3.50 EUR) . Nowadays he is selling and fixing mobile phones. Here in Bolivia it is not rear to see children working. In Potosí many are working in the mines. In all big cities children, and adults as well, go from table to table in restaurants trying to sell chewing gum, chocolate and cigarettes. I've also seen boys offering shoeshine services. Luckily I haven't stumbled upon child prostitution, but according to Wikipedia it is a serious problem in Bolivia.
While waiting for the big moment, the sunrise, we could enjoy performances of a group playing traditional music with flutes and a drum. And finally it happened: the round, shiny thing came in sight behind the mountains on the horizon. Suddenly there was so much more light. I must say it was a magical moment. The music performances started again and lasted for the whole morning.
Back in Cochabamba - no, I didn't go to sleep - I had a shower, packed my backpack and took a bus to La Paz. My travel mate Andrés had a severe stomach ache and stayed with his brother - whom he hadn't seen for ten years.
lauantai 19. kesäkuuta 2010
Voluntary work and fiestas in Cochabamba
After visiting a fern forest in Amboro national park and a pre-inca religious site El Fuerte near Samaipata, and meeting up again with Isabel and Johan (the Dutch/Belgian couple I've mentioned earlier), Andres and I went to Santa Cruz. The city itself didn't have much to offer for tourists, only expensive restaurants and a few nice buildings around the central square. After the small, relaxing village of Samaipata, the big, rich and busy Santa Cruz didn't appeal to us, so the following morning we took a bus to Cochabamba. On the way we saw some rudimentary dwellings and women doing laundry at rivers.
Now we are visiting a Finnish girl called Kati, whom I know from Tampere Couchsurfing group. She's been doing voluntary work here in Cochabamba for a few months. I visited the office of her employer, Cedesol (http://www.cedesol.org), an association making solar kitchens and also went twice with her to an orphanage to play with children aged 1-8 years. This weekend there's a music festival 'Fiesta de la Musica' in the city and we've gone to some free concerts. So now I, a girl from the land of heavy metal music, have seen a latino band playing heavy metal. Tonight we'll travel to a nearby mountain to participate in celebrations of Aymara (=an indigenous group) New Year.
A lot of travellers experience stomach problems in Bolivia. According to Kati's empiric studies 50 percent of foreigners get amoebas; she's had them once. Luckily I haven't had anything serious so far.
A woman with short hair is a rear sight in South America. Some girls at the orphanage were asking me why I've cut my hair and if I'm a woman and have breasts and vagina. My travel mate Andres is also saying all the time that I don't have hair.
Now we are visiting a Finnish girl called Kati, whom I know from Tampere Couchsurfing group. She's been doing voluntary work here in Cochabamba for a few months. I visited the office of her employer, Cedesol (http://www.cedesol.org), an association making solar kitchens and also went twice with her to an orphanage to play with children aged 1-8 years. This weekend there's a music festival 'Fiesta de la Musica' in the city and we've gone to some free concerts. So now I, a girl from the land of heavy metal music, have seen a latino band playing heavy metal. Tonight we'll travel to a nearby mountain to participate in celebrations of Aymara (=an indigenous group) New Year.
A lot of travellers experience stomach problems in Bolivia. According to Kati's empiric studies 50 percent of foreigners get amoebas; she's had them once. Luckily I haven't had anything serious so far.
A woman with short hair is a rear sight in South America. Some girls at the orphanage were asking me why I've cut my hair and if I'm a woman and have breasts and vagina. My travel mate Andres is also saying all the time that I don't have hair.
keskiviikko 9. kesäkuuta 2010
The beautiful, exotic Bolivia
So, I suppose you are curious about my new travel mate. Don't worry, it's not going to be a love story of the century. I'm still planning to use my return ticket. (Although I wouldn't have anything against continuing my trip a bit longer.) Andrés and I are just travelling together through Bolivia and trying to cope with our cultural differences. I think the Chileans might after all be right about Argentinians being arrogant and Andrés is annoyed by my level of organisation. An independent, but sensitive Nordic woman and an Argentinian man with a strong character is a challenging combination. Andrés is a trekking guide from Patagonia, no Antonio Banderas - more like Danny DeVito, or maybe a combination of both -, likes cooking and is very social. The last two months he was doing voluntary work in Chile, building houses for the people who lost theirs during the earthquake. He's a real Argentinian: mate, asado and football are sacred to him. At this very moment he's watching the Worlcup, Argentina playing against Nigeria.
After the European-like countries of Argentina and Chile, the poorer Bolivia feels exotic, more like the "real South America". Here you can see women in traditional clothes with their long hair in two braids, carrying a child wrapped in a colourful cloth on their backs. One traveller said the old women in their wide skirts look like bells when they walk. Ding-dong, ding-dong. :-) In one bus a local woman had two live chickens in her bag. The hostels and public toilets can be very basic, and internet connection is frustratingly slow. Outside the town of Uyuni there was a lot of rubbish on the ground - it was like a graveyard of old plastic bags. But the mountaineous landscapes between Uyuni, Potosí, Sucre and Samaipata were absolutely beautiful. 
We started our journey to Bolivia by taking a tour to Salar de Uyuni, the largest salt flat on earth. It meant sitting for three days in a four wheel drive vehicle on unpaved roads - sometimes just tracks in the sand. We saw colourful lagoons, volcanoes, geysers, weird rock formations, beautiful blue skies and the vast blinding white salt flat - some of most fabulous landscapes in South America, according to my guidebook. I'm surprised and happy that I didn't suffer from altitude sickness, even though we went to almost 5000 metres above sea. In San Pedro and later in Potosí I felt some fatigue and other mild symptoms, like loss of apetite. During the tour some other people had serious headache; the feeling like their head would explode.
The Bolivian border:
Blue skies and mountain landscapes, driving on the sandy/gravel terrain without proper roads:
Laguna Colorada:
Salt flat of Uyuni, looking like a frozen lake:
Our Toyota 4 WD, Johan from Belgium, Teo the Bolivian driver/guide, Isabel from the Netherlands, me and Andrés:
Now I've seen three Unesco World Cultural Heritage listed cities during my trip. The first one was Valparaíso in Chile and the two other ones are Potosí and Sucre here in Bolivia. I've really liked all of them; they are beautiful places. Potosí - once richer and bigger than London or Paris - is a mining city dominated by Cerro Rico, where mining still continues, four centuries after the first mines were started. I didn't have the courage to visit the dusty mines. Instead, at the hostel I watched the movie 'Minero del Diablo' (The Devil's Miner) telling about a 14-year-old boy working at a mine. I really recommend anyone to see it! What cought my eye in Potosí was the big amount of law offices. After Potosí we visited the capital, Sucre, "La Ciudad Blanca", where we could admire the buildings in the centre painted in their original colonial white.
After the European-like countries of Argentina and Chile, the poorer Bolivia feels exotic, more like the "real South America". Here you can see women in traditional clothes with their long hair in two braids, carrying a child wrapped in a colourful cloth on their backs. One traveller said the old women in their wide skirts look like bells when they walk. Ding-dong, ding-dong. :-) In one bus a local woman had two live chickens in her bag. The hostels and public toilets can be very basic, and internet connection is frustratingly slow. Outside the town of Uyuni there was a lot of rubbish on the ground - it was like a graveyard of old plastic bags. But the mountaineous landscapes between Uyuni, Potosí, Sucre and Samaipata were absolutely beautiful.
A street in Uyuni:
A street in Potosí:
What a busride the other night! We took a night bus from Sucre to Samaipata, a small town south of Santa Cruz. At 8 pm a wheel came off in the middle of the road!!! Luckily we were not in the mountains... We waited for half an hour on the roadside and in the next town I sat on the pavement for two hours waiting for the bus to be repaired. Later, on a narrow mountain road in the dark I was repeating in my head a prayer from my childhood and protective mantras I've learnt from my yoga teacher. Usually I'm not scared on my travels, but this time I was. Another time I woke up when the bus had stopped and the police were searching the bus. But don't worry for me, now I'm safely in Samaipata and have one more exciting experience to tell from my travels.
keskiviikko 2. kesäkuuta 2010
Greetings from the driest desert in the world!
A few examples of Chilean friendliness:
- When I left Valparaíso, I took a local bus from the hostel to the bus station. I didn't know exactly where to get off, but there was a woman in the bus who showed me to get off with her. She walked all the way to the bus station and made sure I was following her.
- From Valparaíso I took a bus to La Serena. Just before arriving the guy sitting next to me started chatting with me. I asked about his plans for the evening and got invited to go and eat seafood with him and his friends in the nearby city of Coquimbo. So I went. And finally had the courage to taste raw mussels, shrimps, octopus etc. How could I have left Chile without trying the seafood?! I've visited a fish market a few times before, but they don't look like the most hygienic places and the food is raw, so I've only taken photos. After this experience the guys took me to my hostel in La Serena. No expectations, no emails changed; just a nice, random act of kindness.
From La Serena I got a ride to the village of Pisco Elqui in Elqui Valley in the rental car of three French exchange students who stayed at the same hostel room with me. Pisco Elqui is a small, peacefull place in the middle of the mountains. On the way we stopped in Vicuña to learn more about two important things connected with Chilean culture: Gabriela Mistral and pisco. Gabriela Mistral was a poet awarded by Nobel Prize. The ones of you who've been lucky enough to get a postcard from me from Chile have seen a picture of her in the stamp. After Museo Gabriela Mistral we went to a pisco distellery. Pisco is a Chilean liquor distilled from grapes.
Now I'm in San Pedro de Atacama in the northeastern part of Chile. Tomorrow it's time to leave the country. In a month I've travelled through the whole country; seen the granite towers of Torres del Paine, the fjords in the south, the green central part with lakes, snowcapped volcanoes, Pacific beaches and now I'm amazed by the driest desert in the world. There's emptiness like in Patagonia, but still it looks very different.
Full of expectations - hoping for the best, dreaming of it and at the same time trying to prepare myself for a disappointment - I met my new travel mate Andres yesterday. Finally, after exchanging emails for a month. I sent him a Couch request earlier, but he was travelling and suggested we'd go to Bolivia and Peru together. "Why not?" I thought. So here we are. My first impression is pretty good, so I believe we'll have a great time travelling together.
I also met a really cool Belgian/Dutch couple at my hostel. All four of us are a team now; we'll take a tour to the salt flats of Salar de Uyuni in Bolivia together. It feels good to be with other people again. A lot of laughter.
torstai 27. toukokuuta 2010
A peaceful place, a destroyed place, a cultural place
I found a Couchsurfing host who lives in the countryside between Pucon and Villarrica. The place was so tranquil and the air was so fresh there! Walking in the surroundings eating blackberries, snapping photos and admiring volcano Villarrica was better than travelling to any national park. At the end of the road I sat down on the ground and realised I didn't have any thoughts, any stress, in my head. That walk was like meditation! The next day I went to relax in the natural thermal baths of Termas Los Pozones. On my last day at Pablo's place I lied in a hammock on his backyard reading my guidebook and watching the leaves fall and the sheep graze in the meadow nearby.
As I'm travelling now in Chile, sure I'm interested in the big issue, "el terremoto", the earthquake. It seems that people here are so used to earthquakes that they don't mind if their house is shaking a bit. Even if things fell on the floor, it's not such a big deal. I haven't talked to anyone who lost his/her child at the earthquake or the tsunami. That must be another story. Before my trip I was warned that this might not be a good time to visit Chile. But now, three months after the earthquake, I haven't had any problems. It's not like the country would have totally stopped. Life goes on, and except for some roadworks I really had to make an effort to see the destruction caused by the earthquake. So, my curiosity took me to Talcahuano, a coastal town hit by the tsunami near Conception. Watching the calm sea on a sunny day, it was hard to imagine the mass of water approaching with a big roar. Near the harbour there was a boat in the middle of a park. The empty streets and damaged houses giving the impression of a ghost town definitely made me silent. I also felt a bit quilty, just going there as a tourist. Several people lost their loved ones, and I just go there to take photos. I had the feeling of quilt especially because I know there's a possibility to volunteer and, through an organisation, help to build houses for the people who lost their homes.
Chillan was my base for doing the daytrip to the more severely damaged areas, mostly Talcahuano. From Chillan I took a nightbus to Valparaíso. Every now and then I woke up because my knee was aching a lot. (It's a repetitive strain injury from my hike in Torres del Paine.) I didn't cry out of pain, but it was so painful that I decided: "I've had enough, I'll go to see a doctor". So I did. Nothing seriously bad; with a supportive stretch tube, anti-inflammatory pills and some cream it should get better in ten days. In the evening I filled in the web form of my travel insurance company for getting back the money I had paid to the clinic. The next morning I had a reply in my email saying that they've prosessed my case and the money (which anyways was only about 40 EUR) will be on my bank account in three days. Wow! Today I also had a reiki session. I don't think the insurance company would pay for that...
I skipped Santiago, the capital, and came straight here in Valparaíso, "Pispala" of Chile. (Although Pispala is only a small part of Tampere and this is a big city.) One cannot but like this bohemian port town with its colourful houses on hillsides! From my hostel bed I have a view to the bay! The first night I was again the only customer, like in Pucon. The hostel owner made some delicious lasagne and we enjoyed it with redwine on the rooftop terrace wathing the city lights on the hillsides in the distance. I must admit it was a romantic setting, but - for those of you with dirty minds - that's where the story ends.
I've visited two of the houses of the great Chilean poet and Nobel prize winner Pablo Neruda. La Sebastiana has marvellous views over Valparaíso and the bay whereas his house in Isla Negra is close to the wide open sea. Neruda certainly had a lot of creativity and a good taste as well as sense of humour. And his collections of glass bottles, figureheads of old ships, shells etc. are impressive!
Tonight I did a cultural tour to visit an urban Mapuche (= indigenous people of Chile) community. I found it very interesting to see and hear how they are trying to preserve their culture. Sometimes they can give lectures and shows at schools, but that depends a lot on the attitude and personal interest of the headmaster and the teachers. I remember from my trip to New Zealand how all the school children were taught the maori language and dances. All this made me think about the situation in Finland. Did I actually learn anything about the life and culture of the sami people at school? Not much. Concerning the Mapuche culture, I was impressed to learn how their culture is based on sharing, unlike our modern culture based on gathering possessions.
Time. There's never enough of it. I've now been on the road for two months and what I have left is a bit more than that. But when I look at the map and my calendar I start to panic: so many places to see and so little time! Back home I never had enough time to read all the books I wanted, go to all the courses and events, meet all my friends, white emails... I left it all behind, cut all the routines and came here free as a bird. And now I'm making myself stressed with the ideas that I should see, experience and learn here more things than I actually can...
As I'm travelling now in Chile, sure I'm interested in the big issue, "el terremoto", the earthquake. It seems that people here are so used to earthquakes that they don't mind if their house is shaking a bit. Even if things fell on the floor, it's not such a big deal. I haven't talked to anyone who lost his/her child at the earthquake or the tsunami. That must be another story. Before my trip I was warned that this might not be a good time to visit Chile. But now, three months after the earthquake, I haven't had any problems. It's not like the country would have totally stopped. Life goes on, and except for some roadworks I really had to make an effort to see the destruction caused by the earthquake. So, my curiosity took me to Talcahuano, a coastal town hit by the tsunami near Conception. Watching the calm sea on a sunny day, it was hard to imagine the mass of water approaching with a big roar. Near the harbour there was a boat in the middle of a park. The empty streets and damaged houses giving the impression of a ghost town definitely made me silent. I also felt a bit quilty, just going there as a tourist. Several people lost their loved ones, and I just go there to take photos. I had the feeling of quilt especially because I know there's a possibility to volunteer and, through an organisation, help to build houses for the people who lost their homes.
Chillan was my base for doing the daytrip to the more severely damaged areas, mostly Talcahuano. From Chillan I took a nightbus to Valparaíso. Every now and then I woke up because my knee was aching a lot. (It's a repetitive strain injury from my hike in Torres del Paine.) I didn't cry out of pain, but it was so painful that I decided: "I've had enough, I'll go to see a doctor". So I did. Nothing seriously bad; with a supportive stretch tube, anti-inflammatory pills and some cream it should get better in ten days. In the evening I filled in the web form of my travel insurance company for getting back the money I had paid to the clinic. The next morning I had a reply in my email saying that they've prosessed my case and the money (which anyways was only about 40 EUR) will be on my bank account in three days. Wow! Today I also had a reiki session. I don't think the insurance company would pay for that...I skipped Santiago, the capital, and came straight here in Valparaíso, "Pispala" of Chile. (Although Pispala is only a small part of Tampere and this is a big city.) One cannot but like this bohemian port town with its colourful houses on hillsides! From my hostel bed I have a view to the bay! The first night I was again the only customer, like in Pucon. The hostel owner made some delicious lasagne and we enjoyed it with redwine on the rooftop terrace wathing the city lights on the hillsides in the distance. I must admit it was a romantic setting, but - for those of you with dirty minds - that's where the story ends.
I've visited two of the houses of the great Chilean poet and Nobel prize winner Pablo Neruda. La Sebastiana has marvellous views over Valparaíso and the bay whereas his house in Isla Negra is close to the wide open sea. Neruda certainly had a lot of creativity and a good taste as well as sense of humour. And his collections of glass bottles, figureheads of old ships, shells etc. are impressive!Tonight I did a cultural tour to visit an urban Mapuche (= indigenous people of Chile) community. I found it very interesting to see and hear how they are trying to preserve their culture. Sometimes they can give lectures and shows at schools, but that depends a lot on the attitude and personal interest of the headmaster and the teachers. I remember from my trip to New Zealand how all the school children were taught the maori language and dances. All this made me think about the situation in Finland. Did I actually learn anything about the life and culture of the sami people at school? Not much. Concerning the Mapuche culture, I was impressed to learn how their culture is based on sharing, unlike our modern culture based on gathering possessions.
Time. There's never enough of it. I've now been on the road for two months and what I have left is a bit more than that. But when I look at the map and my calendar I start to panic: so many places to see and so little time! Back home I never had enough time to read all the books I wanted, go to all the courses and events, meet all my friends, white emails... I left it all behind, cut all the routines and came here free as a bird. And now I'm making myself stressed with the ideas that I should see, experience and learn here more things than I actually can...
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