R&R

Day 77-80: Southern Coast, Peru. As the sun started to set below the far western horizon, the desert sands turned a fiery red. Jumping on to our boards, Karen and I hurled ourselves from the summit of the steep dune for one last run before dark. As fast as a polaris missile but with very little in the way of control, both of us miraculously made it to the bottom with no broken limbs. After the exertion of the last 3 months, this was just we needed: Sand boarding and a little bit of relaxation and recuperation.

And when it comes to chilling out, there is probably no better place to do it that Peru's laid back southern coast: From the tiny desert oasis of Huacachina surrounded by towering sand dunes, nestling next to a picturesque (if slightly smelly!) lagoon with graceful palm trees, exotic flowers and attractive antique buildings to the charming hamlet of Lunahuaná; gateway to one of Peru's best wine producing regions, this coast really does have it all. Hoping on and off buses, collectivos and moto-taxis as if we lived here, Karen and I made our way slowly northwards along the Carr Panamericana (Pan-American Highway) where the spectacular barren deserts and sand dunes gave way to fertile valleys, lush with tropical fruit and vineyards industrious with the autumn harvest.

The low cost of living meant that we could ditch the usual backpacker's haunts and stay in some real hotels: You know the sort of thing – hotels that offer complimentary soap, monogrammed towels and maybe even a swimming pool. Luxury! Our best find by far was the remote Refugio de Santiago; a renovated colonial home a few kilometres west of Lunahuaná which represented the ultimate in relaxing hideaways. The rooms, rustic but elegant; the grounds a fragrant botanical garden providing an infinite source of inspiration for the excellent (if slightly eccentric!) Peruvian chef. Utterly passionate about his creations, he refused to let us leave his tranquil abode until we had sampled the very best of his countries gastronomy. Like fresh tuna juice (from the cactus, not the fish!), milkshake of lucumba, crayfish from the River Cañete and yes, you've guessed it, locally reared guinea pig. Prepared the traditional Peruvian way, this cuy didn't resemble the loser in a battle with a 7 ton Pickford's truck in the way that so many guinea pigs are presented in the tourist haunts. Cooked to perfection with smoked garlic and perfumed tiger milk, it had a delicious, delicate texture with a mild, gamy flavour reminiscent of the finest grouse or partridge.

So if your kids ever get bored of the family pet and you're wondering what to do, just tip me the wink and I'll rustle us up a great little dish. More red wine anyone?

And Breathe...

Day 75-76: Nazca, Peru. The plane dived hard to the starboard side, the note of the engine increasing in pitch as the revs increased on the little six seater Cessna. I did my best to hold on to my camera and to my breakfast as we switched direction yet again to get the best view of the amazing geoglyphs that stretched infinitely across the desert floor. “Beats dizzyness!”, Karen joked above the noise of the aircraft. She was right: Trading altitude sickness for motion sickness within a 24 hours period was not one of my better ideas!

After almost 5 weeks at high altitude, we finally decided to give our lungs a break and descend to the Peruvian desert floor where oxygen was considered to be a commodity rather than a luxury. Heading south-westerly from Cusco, we caught the overnight bus service to take us across the High Andes and down to the tropical coastal plateau. Whilst covering a distance of only 350 miles, this was unquestionably one of the most difficult bus journey's we had ever undertaken; 15 solid hours of mountain passes, ascents, descents and death defying hairpin bends before we left the gargantuan mountain range that has played such a huge part in our South American adventure.

Arriving on the western side of the Andes at the dead and alive hole of Nazca, you’d be forgiven for thinking that this desolate pampa would hold little of interest for anybody. And indeed this sun-bleached expanse of desert was largely ignored by the outside world until 1939, when North American scientist Paul Kosok flew across the desert and noticed a series of extensive lines and figures etched below, which he initially took to be an elaborate pre-Inca irrigation system. In fact, what he had stumbled across was one of ancient Peru’s most impressive and enigmatic achievements: The world-famous Nazca Lines, which as a teenager, I had been fascinated with ever since reading a copy of Arthur C. Clarke's Mysterious World.

Spread across an incredible 200 square miles of arid, rock-strewn plain, the Nazca Lines remain to this day one of the world’s great archaeological mysteries. Consisting of more than 800 straight lines, 300 geometric figures and some 70 spectacular animal and plant drawings including such entities as the hummingbird, the spider, the condor and the astronaut(!), the lines are almost imperceptible at ground level. It’s only when viewed from above that they form their striking network of enormous stylized figures and channels up to 300 feet across and so Karen and I just had to get up there to take a better look.

With little else to do in Nazca, finding a willing pilot with a light aircraft to charter is,well, as a easy as jumping out of a plane. Finding one that didn't want to empty the contents of our stomachs through their demonstration of aerobatic prowess in an attempt to get you the best possible view of the lines, much less so!!

Emerging from the plane, both looking a little green, Karen and I had gained a much better appreciation of the intriguing geometric shapes drawn by the Nazca people some 2,000 years ago (it definitely is an astronaut, you know!). But right now, we had a desire to be back in the High Andes where, despite the lack of oxygen, our internal organs tended to remain in exactly the same place that we had left them!

Lost & Found

Day 70-74: The Inca Trail to Machu Picchu, Peru. 6.30am and the first vestiges of daylight were starting to create a dull glow in the eastern sky. Clouds covered the snow covered high Andean peaks that towered above us, mist swirled around the enveloping cloud forest. We were cold and tired. Despite the hour we had already been trekking the narrow, rocky path for well over an hour. But still we forged ahead: The stone staircase to Intipunku so steep it resembled a rock scramble rather than a hike. And then, through the twilight, we saw it: 1,000 feet below us in all its magnificent splendour. “We've found it!”, Karen exclaimed excitedly, seemingly forgetting the pain and exertion of the last 4 days. Machu Picchu, the lost city of the Inca's was ours...

From Cusco, there are two practical ways to reach South America's best know archaeological site: You can take an air-conditioned tourist train with full buffet service and reclining leather seats or you can undertake a gruelling four day hike across three notorious Andean mountain passes following exactly the same route that the Inca kings would have over done seven centuries previously. Have a guess which one Karen and I decided to do?

The Inca Trail, is South America's and one of the world's, most famous hikes. The ancient path laid by the Incas from the Sacred Valley to Machu Picchu winds its way up and down and around the mountains, reaching altitudes of over 14,000 feet. Not for the faint hearted, this truly is a challenging hike exacerbated by the oxygen starved high altitude, burning tropical sun and freezing Andean nights. For four whole days we would set off before sunrise and trek until sundown tackling the likes of Dead Women's Pass a 6,000 foot vertical ascent achieved from just a few miles of hiking and the Gringo Killer; 3,000, foot high stone steps that jarred the spine and pulverised the knees. As night fell we'd pitch up tent at altitudes approaching those close to the summit of Mont Blanc and sleep under canvas beneath the clear, cold Peruvian skies.

But despite the incredible physical exertion, this was a truly mystical, magical and unforgeable experience: Walking from one cliff-hugging pre-Columbian ruin to the next; the views of snowy mountain peaks, distant rivers and ranges, and cloud forests flush with tropical wildlife and colourful orchids.

And then there was our incredible trekking team. In order to preserve this centuries old trail to the Inca's foremost spiritual sanctuary discovered by Hiram Bingham back in 1911, only a small number of guided hikers are permitted to use these sacred paths every day. Accompanying Karen and me were Edgar, our trusty and knowledgeable Quenchua guide and two porters for every hiker on the trail to carry tents and provisions. And it was these guys that really did make the trail extra special. Whilst we struggled with the thin air and steep inclines, these stocky local farmers would run up and down the mountain passes with 25 kilo packs on their backs setting up our next camp site and cooking delicious meals for us with the most basic of ingredients. One night, as Karen and I were about to go to bed, completely exhausted from the days trekking, I saw all of them leaving the camp-site and heading off down the mountain. “There's a big game tonight: Peru are playing Chile”, Edgar explained. “They're just popping down to the village to watch it on TV”, he continued. Now normally this wouldn't seem that unusual to me. But on this particular night the village was 4,000 feet below us and it had taken Karen and me all afternoon to get from there to our camp-site. These guys were were doing the round trip as part of a average night out!! It's a shame Peru lost 3-1!

And whilst the Inca Trail is absolutely about the journey the ultimate destination, Machu Picchu, is sublime in itself: One of the New Seven Wonders of the World and a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Built in 1450 and abandoned within a century this site was never known to the Spanish during their conquests and consequently, it is one of the only relatively intact Inca sites that remain anywhere in South America. With over 140 structures including temples, sanctuaries, parks, terraces and residences, Karen and I wandered the ruins in utter amazement for as long as our tired legs could carry us. A perfect and fitting end to the most magical trek we have ever embarked on.

The most strenuous thing that we have ever done? Most probably. The most rewarding? Most definitely!

So, if anyone back home is still interested in that little trip to Kilimanjaro; Karen and I are definitely in!

Precision Engineering

Day 67-69: Cusco & The Sacred Valley, Peru. “I can't even place a credit card between them”, I said to Karen in amazement, as we wandered around the peaceful ruins at Sacsaywamán just a couple of miles north of Cusco's main plaza. Two year previously, Karen and I had been fortunate enough to visit the Giza plateau where we had marvelled at the astonishing engineering skills of the ancient Egyptians in the construction of the Great Pyramids. Now, in the heart of South America, we were witnessing similar unbelievable craftsmanship; the legacy of the continents greatest pre-Columbian civilization. Huge 70 ton boulders, cut with laser precision and skilfully assembled without the need for mortar, to form great walls, temples and cities; dominating the land as far as the eye can see. For 700 years ago, the place where we were now standing was at the heart of the Inca Empire.

The 12 hour overnight bus from Arequipa had brought us northwards to the ancient city of Cuzco, our base for the next few days as we explored this fascinating city and the myriad of ancient archaeological sites that litter the 100 miles of the Sacred Inca Valley.

Cuzco itself effortlessly enchants, bombarding the senses with a swirl of art, religion, music, architecture, food, and fiestas – every possible manifestation of the syncretic Inca-Spanish culture that makes the Andes so fascinating: Ladies with llamas walk cobbled streets. Coca-chewing local honchos parade to church in ceremonial regalia for Mass in Quechua. Cuzco’s proud pagan past collides with solemn Catholic rituals in parades that stop traffic at the drop of a hat.

Despite it's obvious charm though, Cusco is one of the most relentless tourism-dominated towns on the face of the earth, sitting as it does just a stones throw from the Sacred Valley and a (relatively) short train journey to one of South America's main events: Machu Picchu. Walking through the Plaza de Armas we felt a little bit like walking ATM's! There's people here hawking massages, finger puppets, paintings, CDs and tattoos – if you want it (or even if you don't!) you can get it here!

Fortunately though, it was easy enough for us to escape the commercial madness, and become totally absorbed by the history and ambience of the lost Incan cities that lay just a short hike or bus ride from the centre of town. Magical, spiritual and mystical; even their very names like Pukapukara and Ollantaytambo, seem to have sprung from the gods imagination.

All that remains now is for me find enough room in my rucksack for the couple of mystical and magical acquisitions that I made whilst in Cusco like my alpaca wool tea-cosy and my Incan warrior snow storm. Classy eh?

Surprise, Surprise!

Day 64-66: Arequipa, Peru. For me, one of the best aspects of travelling is finding those little gems; away from the main tourist trail, that exude charm and charisma and provide a real insight into the country's history, culture and psyche. And Arequipa provided us with a perfect example. Prior to leaving the UK back in January, I hadn't even heard of Peru's second city. Lonely Planet, puts it on the 'B' list of things to do in Peru and we only made it this far in the search of a restaurant for Karen's birthday. But I'm so pleased we did. For Arequipa is Peru's forgotten jewel.

Rocked by volcanic eruptions and earthquakes nearly every century since the Spanish arrived in 1532, Arequipa doesn’t lack for drama. Locals sometimes say “When the moon separated from the earth, it forgot to take Arequipa”, waxing lyrical about the city’s grand colonial buildings, built from an off-white volcanic rock called sillar that dazzles in the sun. As a result, Arequipa has been baptised the Ciudad Blanca (white city). Its distinctive stonework graces the stately Plaza de Armas, along with countless beautiful colonial churches, monasteries and mansions scattered throughout the city. What makes this city so irresistible is the obvious relish with which its citizens enjoy all of the good things that life has to offer, especially the region’s spicy food, stylish shopping and night-life. The pulse of city life is upbeat. The streets are full of jostling vendors, bankers, artists, students and nuns – in short, a microcosm of modern Peru.

Arriving here with one objective, Karen and I stayed around for a few days to make the most of the city's superb restaurants (which has meant we still haven't had to stoop to eating guinea pig!), low cost of living and relative lack of tourists. In addition, the beauty of the surrounding countryside was to die for. Nestling in a fertile valley under the perfect cone-shaped volcano of El Misti, which rises majestically 19,000 feet behind the cathedral, flanked to the left by the higher and more ragged Chachani and to the right by the peak of Pichu Pichu.

And then there's the canyons. In my ignorance, I always thought Arizona's mile deep Grand Canyon was the deepest in the world. But within a 100 miles north-westerly of Arequipa lie two canyons that put America's tourist icon to shame. Cañón del Colca plunges 10,500 feet through the earth's crust and the more remote Cañón del Cotahuasi tops this by another 500 feet, making it the deepest canyon in the world: Two miles deep; twice the depth of the Grand Canyon! Standing on the rim of this mighty canyon, watching the soaring condors floating by at close range below us – a truly unforgettable experience.

And in my capacity as Investigative Tourism Journalist, I even thought I'd try the local hospital to give every one back home the real low down of Arequipa! Suffering from severe chest pains for the last week, I thought I'd better get a check-up just in case my heart was on it's way out. But after a few minutes on a shiny new ECG machine and some considerate prodding by the local doctors they soon diagnosed that my heart was good for a few miles yet. It turns out that after weeks living at what the World Health Organisation classify as 'High Altitude' or 'Extreme Altitude' my lungs had been working so hard to extract what little oxygen exists in this thin mountain air that I had actually strained the muscles in my chest – hence the pain and breathing difficulties.

So, if you're in Peru and you're feeling a little under the weather, I recommend you make your way to Clínica Arequipa: A brand new facility with excellent English speaking medical professionals. In and out within the hour and a total cost for the consultation and ongoing medication of less than £25. I don't know, the lengths I'm prepared to go to to provide the latest in tourist information!

Birthday Wishes

Day 62-63: South Eastern Peru, Peru. “We made it!”, Karen shrieked with more than just a touch of relief in her voice. I felt like kissing the ground, but deciding on the slightly more cooler approach, simply nodded in agreement. We had crossed Peru's most dangerous mountain pass and lived to tell the tale. For more people are killed on this route and more buses go careering off the edge of the road into the plunging abyss below than on any other road anywhere in the country. And in a mountainous country with a network of poorly maintained roads, the Puno to Arequipa highway has an awful lot of competition vying for its infamous accolade!

We had followed the lake road north-westerly from Copacabana until we reached the little border town of Yuguyo. Here, passports duly stamped for exit from Bolivia and entry to Peru we had continued into the sixth and final country of our South American adventure. Small changes at first: The women still wearing their plaited hair under bowler hats, multiple layer skirts and their worldly possessions bundled on their backs. But in Peru, the colours a little more brighter and the ladies a little more smiley (the latter point may be something to do with the local trend to trim your front teeth with solid gold so that every time they laughed, I felt I was at the mercy of a cloned set of James Bond villains)!

Subtle changes in the Peruvian diet compared to Bolivia too: Llama gives way to alpaca, and Peru's meat staple the guinea pig makes an appearance; traditionally served as if it were the victim of some unfortunate road kill incident: Flat as a pancake, complete with head and all four paws splayed to the cardinal points. (A dish that so far we have managed to avoid, but as our journey takes us to more remote Peruvian outposts our pizza alternatives may be no more!)

And it was food that had brought us on our seven hour journey from Lake Titicaca in the east to Arequipa in the Peruvian central highlands. With Karen's birthday celebration we felt it was high time that we splashed out a bit and treated ourselves by way of a slap up meal at Zig Zag, said to be one of the countries finest restaurants. A romantic Alpine-Andean fusion haunt that delivers the gourmand goods in a sillar walled candlelit setting. Crayfish cocktail, volcanic stone cooked trilogy of meat (beef, lamb and the tenderest alpaca loin) and passion fruit meringue all washed down with a perfect Peruvian cabernet sauvignon and the biggest pisco sour you could ever imagine!!

...And after three months of living off budget food and just a couple of beers a night, this was positively heaven, even if we did have to crack open the indigestion tablets the next day!

Happy Birthday, Karen!

Hippy Hippy Shake

Day 58-61: Lake Titicaca, Bolivia. On our travels we have often stayed at the birthplaces of famous people: Elvis, Lenin, Lincoln... The list goes on. But, if you believe the ancient Inca legends, Lake Titicaca was the birthplace of something far more exciting. For, from the twin islands of Isla del Sol and Isla de la Luna in the middle of this vast inland ocean, the Sun and the Moon themselves were born and rose to the skies to take their place in the heavens for the rest of eternity.

Lake Titicaca is deservedly awash with gushing clichés. This incongruous splash of sapphire amid the stark plains of the Altiplano is one of the most beautiful sights in the region. The lake itself straddles both Bolivia and Peru and covers an area of more than 3,000 square miles, sitting at an altitude of 12,500 feet, Titicaca is the world’s largest high-altitude lake.

Copacabana, on the lake's south-western shore, attracts a diverse set of travellers and provided fabulous people watching opportunities for Karen and me during our time visiting the lake: The Aymará and Quechu people from all over Peru and Bolivia make their pilgrimages here. According to their own creation stories not only were the Sun and the Moon born from these islands, but the bearded, white god-king Viracocha and the first Incas, Manco Capac and his sister-wife Mama Ocllo, mystically appeared at the Isla del Sol under direct orders from the Sun. Then there's the Hippies: Whilst they may not have the same religious connections as the Aymará and Quechu people, the fact that this place is shrouded in mysticism provides a magnet for the Simon & Garfunkel guitar playing crowd who have made these lake-shores their spiritual home. The New Age Travellers: Attracted by Copacabana's chilled out life style, minuscule cost of living and the opportunity to flog the odd bracelet here and there to the steady trickle of international tourists. And finally there's the independent travellers like Karen and me who just want to immerse ourselves in the incredible beauty, spirituality and slow pace of life of this land where time has apparently stood still for the last couple of millennia.

Hiking the entire length of Isla del Sol was a rewarding but exhausting experience; trekking through traditional Aymará villages along the lake-shore, with the snow-topped peaks of the Cordillera Real in the background, providing a magical landscape. Whilst the island is only about 6 miles across, the combination of the 14,000 foot altitude, the intense burning tropical sun and the bone chilling Andean winds made for one of the most memorable days of our travelling experience. And in the solitude of these high peaks, desolate now but with the smattering of ancient ruins to remind us of the great Inca cities that once stood on this island, a time for reflection; nine weeks on the road and whilst our experiences have been amazing, we are really missing our home back in Steeple Morden: Friends and family, Huffkin & Chudleigh, home cooked meals, nights in by the fire, jogging to Abingdon Piggots, burning up the back lanes of South Cambridgeshire on the motorbikes, Friday night tennis with Pete & Fliss, Sunday night at the Waggon with Dave & crew...

But reaching the Mil Gradas (thousand steps) of Yumani and all mind wandering has to stop. One thing I just don't understand about the Inca's – if they really were as clever as everybody says they were – why couldn't they build their cities on the flat bits? Why did they always have to build them at the top of a knackering stone stair-case?

Life on Earth

Day 54-57: Amazon Rain Forest, Bolivia. Ahhh! What better way to spend a pleasant and relaxing afternoon than a spot of lake fishing? The sun going down behind the trees; a kingfisher flies from the bushes and bubbles gently break the surface of the calm waters as the angler's prey are nonchalantly lured towards the waiting bait. But as you've probably guessed, in Bolivia's seemingly altered reality, things were a little different on our fishing trip. For the sun had an equatorial fierceness, the trees formed the canopy of the largest and most beautiful forest on the planet, the kingfisher was of the giant Amazon variety and the the lake; crocodile infested. No maggots here; our bait were chunks of best quality beef steak that turned the water into a frenzied, bubbling cauldron. For today we we fishing for piranha!

Ever since I was a teenager I have always wanted to visit the Amazon Rainforest to experience the most diverse, varied and fragile ecosystem on earth. Since arriving in South America, Karen and I had realised that it was relatively easy to reach the rain-forest from any of the countries that formed the Amazon Basin provided you had enough time, desire and money. But finding a way to the forest that doesn't pose any more threat to this already endangered environment; travelling responsibly, ecologically and sustainably: That was a lot more difficult.

And so, after much research, we opted to visit the Amazon through Chalalán: Bolivia’s leading community-based ecotourism project. Set up in the early 1990s by the inhabitants of remote San José de Uchupiamonas, it has become a lifeline for these villagers, and has so far generated money for a school and a small clinic. Built entirely from natural rainforest materials by the enthusiastic San José youth, the lodge’s simple and elegant huts surround the idyllic Laguna Chalalán in the heart of the 7,000 square mile Parque Nacional Madidi.

The park itself takes in a range of wildlife habitats, from the steaming lowland rainforests to 18,000 feet Andean peaks. This little-trodden utopia is home to an astonishing variety of Amazonian wildlife: 44% of all New World mammal species live here, 38% of tropical amphibian species, almost 1,000 kinds of bird and more protected species than any other park in the world. Because of its remoteness, getting to the park created its own challenges: The seasons rains had virtually destroyed any north-bound road from La Paz, so luckily we had managed to secure a flight to the river trading outpost of Rurrenabaque on a little 18 seater turbo-prop plane that landed bumpily on the village's grass airstrip. Rurrenabaque literally is the end of the road and as the only way to travel north from here is by boat, we took the 6 hour trip up the misty Rio Beni and Rio Tuichi; 'tiny' half mile wide tributaries of the mighty Amazon itself, before hiking the last couple of miles to the reserve.

With the indigenous, Amazonian, Giovanni as our guide (apparently he didn't much care for his name but was given it by the local missionaries!), we trekked the rain forest morning, noon and night to try to understand it's secrets. Giovanni would show us how his people interact with the forest, and how it's animal, plant and bird-life provided them the food, shelter and medicine that their community used in their everyday lives. But it was Giovanni's knowledge of the fragility and symbiotic relationships of this unique environment that really made me listen. He, along with his community from San José, were at one with the forest: This was their past, their present and their future. For their community to survive they had to hand the rain-forest to their children exactly as they had inherited it from their parents. Oh, how much our own greedy, wasteful society could learn from these simple, happy people who live in the middle of paradise.

The rainforest never stops: 24 x 7. 365 days a year. The forest floor is dark and damp, covered in fallen leaves and decaying wood giving a distinctly autumnal feel (if you ignore the heat and humidity that is!). But it is precisely this constant decay that provides the fuel for the forest's perpetual Spring; every day new leaves and flowers burst from the canopy in a race to get closest to the streaming sunlight. And in every strata, from floor to canopy, nature thrives in super-size: Inch long farmer ants incessantly tidy anything that dares to fall from above; six inch cicada join a host of insects that buzz through the undergrowth; huge, multicoloured parrots, macaws and toucans fill the upper regions whilst countless species of monkey swing noisily through the highest canopy attracted by Giovanni's Dr Doolittle like abilities. And whilst the flora and fauna are beautiful, its the noises that will stay with me forever: The incredible dawn bird chorus, the evening frog symphony, the collective whine of a zillion insects, the roar of bucketing tropical rainstorms and, in the early morning, the thunder-like chorus of every howler monkey within a 100 mile radius!

Of course, this stunning beauty also hides it share of danger as well. Along with the crocodiles, piranhas, anacondas and boa constrictors these forest are the home to predatory cats, crazed pigs and walking trees! The tiny fire-ants which hunt in swarms; their collective bite strong enough to kill a man. I was lucky: In my encounter with these little termites, I only sustained a couple of bites – but believe me the pain was excruciating. I can not begin to image how death by 1,000 of these bites must feel. But as confirmed arachnophobes, when Giovanni told us we were going on a spider hunt, both Karen and I came out in a cold sweat: Jumping spiders, wandering spiders, 30 foot webs stretching between the trees providing a home for a million communal arachnids. And then, hiding between the roots of a fig tree, Giovanni found a 10 inch tarantula rearing its legs in aggression. “It won't bite you if you don't bother it”, he said, poking the spider with a small stick – but by this stage, Karen and I were already making our tracks back to the safety of the lodge.

The most stunningly beautiful ecosystem and environment anywhere on planet earth. An ecosystem that may just provide the salvation to the almost irreparable damage that we have all inflicted on our planet so far. This is not just Giovanni's or even Sting's environment to protect. It is the responsibility of each and every one of us.

Oh, and by the way, Giovanni's grilled piranha fish tasted just divine!

Lady of Peace

Day 50-53: La Paz, Bolivia. “Breathtaking! It literally has been built on the side of the mountain”, Karen exclaimed as we descended from the flat sparse plains of the sprawling city of El Alto and got our first glimpse of Bolivia's capital city clinging to the sides of the canyon and spilling spectacularly into the valley below. It had been a long night and we were both exhausted, but the sight before us rekindled our spirits and despite our tiredness, gave us the taste for exploration yet again.

The overnight journey from Uyuni had not been with out incident. The road just south of Potosi had collapsed due to the torrential rain falls. A main thoroughfare between the nations capital and the south-west of the county, we had to wait our turn as the procession of northbound and southbound buses gingerly squeezed past each other with just inches to spare on what remained of the broken road, adding another couple of hours to our scheduled 11 hour bus journey.

La Paz, or to give it its original name, La Ciudad de Nuestra Señora de La Paz (the City of Our Lady of Peace) is dizzying in every respect. Not only for its well publicised altitude (12,000 feet above sea level; making it the highest capital city in the world), but also for it's quirky beauty: Women sporting long black plaits, bowler hats and vivid mantas attend to steaming pots or sell everything from fruit and vegetables to designer shoes from their make-shift street stalls whilst the menfolk, negotiating the heavy traffic and its fumes, push overladen trolleys through the steep streets and alleys that wind their way ever skywards.

“Camina lentito, come poquito…y duerme solito”, the locals tell you (walk slowly, eat only a little bit…and sleep by your poor little self). Check into any five star hotel in La Paz and amongst the usual paraphernalia, like bathrobes and fluffy slippers, you'll also be offered free oxygen for the duration of your stay! Such luxuries though were unavailable at our £8 a night hostel and so Karen and I had to make do with the traditional coca leaves remedy to ward off the effects of this crazy altitude. In Bolivia's biggest city though, we no longer had to make do with merely chewing the coca, for here you can get coca tea, coca sweets, coca liqueur and even coca ice-cream!

The city's diverse restaurant scene coupled with its low cost of living meant that after many days, Karen and I could actually find something else to eat other than llama, pizza or llama pizza. And La Paz seems to have the lot: Japanese, Thai, Moroccan, French... We even found a great little 'English Curry House' (now I always thought curry originated from the Indian subcontinent, but if the Bolivians are happy to credit England with the invention of one of the world's favourite dishes then that's fine by me)!

In an attempt to escape the city's choking pollution for a few hours we took a ride to the 'ghost' ski resort of Chacaltaya, just a couple of hours drive to the north of the bustling city centre. A strange and eerie place, this used to be the location of the world's highest pistes at nearly 18,000 feet; a popular destination for La Paz's elite during the 1980's when a huge leisure infrastructure was constructed in the high Andes to support the growing needs of Bolivia's ski-set. Since then though, in an all too familiar tale of global warming, the glaciers that provided the snow have all retreated from this high mountain until, in 2009, they disappeared completely. Now, as Karen and I trekked these cold and windy mountains, all that remains of this once thriving winter sports centre are a couple of rusting ski lifts and few derelict buildings, presumably the location of Chacaltaya's bygone apres-ski scene.

But it's La Paz's chaotic market scenes that will stay with me as my over-riding memory of this fascinating city. A sensory indulgence; the colourful, overflowing stalls, the aroma of incense mingling with the smell of fresh salteñas cooking on an open fire, the cries of the street sellers and the acrid taste of pollution, caused by the incessant traffic, drying the back of your throat. Looking around the Witches Market, it looks like this years 'must have' gift from La Paz are going to be dried llama foetuses. Stall after stall has baskets of these macabre Bolivian icons, the result of miscarriages, still births or even the religious slaughter of pregnant llamas which are offered as gifts of good-luck and friendship within the local community. So if you have one of those friends that just has everything and you can't think what to get them for their next birthday or anniversary drop me a line and I'll see if I can get you a couple before I leave!