Travel

Back to Quito

Kruse Leave a comment

10 Oct – Pen leaves.  We catch a taxi to the airport, and Pen stands in line for an hour or so, while I sit in a restaurant drinking cerveza, and accomplishing sudoku puzzles.  I am very good at sudoku puzzles.  Then, it was time for Pen to leave.  So she left.  Leaving poor Kruse all alone.  So Kruse caught a taxi to the bus station.  And wasn-t too sure what to do, so delayed with internet.  Finally figured out that Ben was too lazy to come to Colombia, and had caught a bus in the wrong direction.  Panicked, he reckons.  Bus to Colombia was two hours away, so he got on a bus to Banos instead.  Forgetting that Banos is south of Quito.  Ben is not very smart.  But, I figured I needed to catch a bus to Ecuador as quick as I could.  So I caught a bus to Popayan.  Trying to ignore the signs that were in every single ticket office detailing how many accidents and fatalities each company has had this year.

So, 11 Oct, I woke up on a bus.  And arrived in Popayan – 3 hours later than I expected.  Just in time for lunch, actually.  Then – another bus.  Got to Ipiales (frontier town) late at night.  Border was closed, so stayed at a dodgy hotel next to the bus station.  Not as dodgy as it could/should have been.

12 Oct – taxi to the border.  Then the fun started.  Got my exit stamp from Colombia – no problems.  Ignored all the touts wanting to change my pesos into US dolares.  No problem.  Then, a policeman asked me into the station to search my bag.  No problem.  But – there was a problem.  My bag of coca leaves which I’d forgotten about, and thought I’d lost.  I hadn’t lost it, it was in my bag.  And is apparently illegal in Ecuador.  I’ve been carrying it since Bolivia.  Through Peru, into Ecuador, Colombia, and now back into Ecuador.  Cops didn’t like it.  Well / actually, they did like it – because they were about to get a bonus.  I wasn’t concerned, even after they told me it was illegal – because I figured “it’s 1 dollar worth of coca leaves – they’re going to slap me on the hand, and tell me to go on my way”.  I’d forgotten how corrupt policemen are here.  So, eventually, they got sick of me being unconcerned, and started threatening me.  Told me 6 months to a year.  Thewn one of them started whispering to me – but I couldn’t understand.  I figured out he must be asking to “sort this out without any problems”, but couldn’t understand him – and had to admit so.  Then, they got a little bit antsy.  I figured they were worried about the fact that I probably had no actual problem when their superior got there, but wanted to make some quick money.  I also was a little bit antsy.  Not completely sure I had no problem.  So, I looked up the word for “fine” in the phrasebook.  And asked the nice policeman if I could pay a fine, instead of going to jail.  Then they brought out the handcuffs – and started threatening me properly.  But, it was obvious they wanted the “fine”.  Now, I’ve got no idea how to go about bribing police officers – but they obviously had had some practice.  So, I bribed some police officers.  For one bag of dirty coca leaves worth one dollar.  Offered the chaps $120 seppo dollars.  They’d counted my money when they were searching me, so I figured I needed to offer them what I had, minus enough to get to the next town.  The police gave me back twenty – and then went and hid the “evidence” they’d found.  Nice honest corrupt policemen.  Bribe was too much, and they gave me change.

So, I’ve ticked another thing off my list of things to do.  Have bribed a police officer.  Three, to be exact.  At the point of actually counting out the money, that was when my hands started shaking.  So, once I got that sorted – went straight to the duty-free store and bought some whiskey.  And had a cigarette.  Was hoping I would hold out for longer than that after Pen left – but bribing police made it pretty necessary pretty quickly.  Then, caught a “colectivo” to Tulcan – the Ecuadorian border town.  Lunch at the bus station restaurant, then a bus to Quito.  All the time, occasionally remembering the whole bribign incident, and getting either proud or angry.  Arrived in Quito about 7pm.  Just in time to catch the metro bus to the hostel, and check in, for free ron and coke.  I hate ron and coke.  Ben arrived five minutes later.  Drunk.   Then we drunk ron and coke.  And then went out.  Ben & I found a local’s bar, with not a single other whitey.  One rather attractive young negress latched onto me – but I had to tell her I had a girlfriend.  She understood, but still stuck with me for the rest of the night.  I eventually figured I couldn’t stay awake anymore, and went home.  Stole Ben’s bed – because his bed was the bottom bunk, and I didn’t trust myself to try and climb into my own bunk.

13 Oct – when the All Blacks should be thrashing Ingerlund.  But we’re not.  Instead, we get up very hungover.  Gringo cafe for breakfast.  Then, sit in the hostel TV room.  Drink a couple of beers.  And find a crowd of people wanting the rugby.  So – off to an irish pub.  Lots of english people.  I tease them.  We drink.  Then France loses.  I am not happy.  Drink more.  Then, taxi to the sports stadium, to watch Ecuador versus Venezuela at the soccer.  Referred to by me a lot as “gayball”.  Possibly didn’t endear myself to too many english folk.  Not a bad game of gayball, but it rained the entire time, and Ecuador lost.  Very chilled out crowd though.  Then, Ben & I lost all the others – and caught a taxi home by ourselves.  At this point, I just wanted to lie down and sleep.  I suspect Ben did also.  But, we found a bar before we found the hostel.  I think.  My recollections are rather blurry.  What I do know is that we drank more.  A lot more.  Seabreezes.  And then I started playing pool.  Could barely stand up – and was sure I would get thrashed.  But, it turns out that I am bloody good at pool.  Champion of the table until closing.  Except for Ben, who I coached through an entire game – too bloody well.

Anyway – can’t say too much more about last night.  Because I can’t remember.  But I stole Ben’s bed again.  And today we are hungover, and it’s looking like another night in Quito.  I have to remember to make Ben and myself promise to be home by midnight, so tomorrow we can head off and actually do something.  Oh – and Ben reckons Galapagos was awesome.  So, I’m definitely doing that after he leaves.  Despite having no money left.

Bogota

Kruse Leave a comment

07 Oct – wake up, and kind of watch South Africa vs Fiji.  But sleep through most of it.  Woke up to see the scores at 20-20, and thought I should start watching properly – but failed.  Woke up again to see the last minute or two.  Preferred it when it was 20-20.  Then, we went for a walk.  Decide to check out this historical centre of Bogota.  We walk the wrong way though – and figure this out after breakfast/lunch.  So – walk back. 

(Should really be difficult to get lost in Bogota.  The addresses here are very very sensible.  Each street is numbered.  And the address is what street number you’re on, followed by the perpendicular street, then number.  So – Calle 8 9-12 will be on Calle 8 (calles run east-west, carreras north-south), on the block with a corner onto Carrera 9, and building number 12 on that block.  The numbering restarts every block.  Very useful.)

Eventually find Plaza Bolivar – which is pretty sweet.  Another plaza with huge cool old buildings on each side.  Including a cathedral – of course. Then, we check out the gold museum.  Displays of many pre-spanish-invasion gold pieces.  Considering how much gold the spanish stole – the amount here is amazing.  And the museum is being renovated – so is about a fifth of it’s intended size.  And therefore displaying less than a fifth of the collection.  But still, lots of gold.  Pen wouldn’t agree to stealing any.

Then – we kept walking around.  But, everything was closed.  Sunday.  Even the supermarket was closed.  So, a little bit of internet use (when my world was shattered into little pieces by the result of a sports game), and then dinner.  Dinner at the only place open in our neighbourhood, with cerveza.  And back to the hostel, to drink the bottle of passionfruit cream liquor I’d bought yesterday.  Not bad.

08 Oct – time to move hostels.  We’ve decided to see what the rich part of town is like.  So, we check out – and catch a bus to the northern part of the city.  Walk a little while, and get to what is supposed to be the closest thing to a backpackers hostel in this part of town.  It turns out to cost us three times our previous hostel.  But – it’s fairly nice, and in a nice part of town, and breakfast is included.  I splash out for Pen’s final two nights with me.  Then – venture out.  But it’s raining.  And my jacket was stolen on the bus from Ecuador.  Dumb.  Stop for some food – but it’s still raining afterwards.  So – splash out on a taxi.  Taxi takes us to the World Trade Centre.  We go in, and get Pen’s air tickets changed so that she doesn’t have to spend a night in the hated Miami.  Then, we stroll.  Find a wine shop, with some NZ wine.  To be specific – Monkey Bay Chardonnay, and Monkey Bay Sauvignon Blanc.  We bought a bottle of Sav.  Then strolled some more.  Couldn’t find the famous park which is supposed to be surrounded by nice restaurants and stuff.  But, did find some tents of people selling trinkets.  Got some new sunglasses to replace my thieved ones, and dithered over buying some beautiful white linen pants.  Didn’t.  Strolled more.  Found the electronics district.  So many electronics.  Gadgets and toys and stuff.  Splashed out.  Replaced Pen’s stolen USB flash drive.  And replaced my MP3 player.  Chose who to buy it off based on the guy having Aerosmith videos preloaded on it for demo purposes.  Pen loves Aerosmith.  I ended up paying more than my cheapest quoted price for that reason.  And the guy had a tiny stall – I always prefer giving my money to the little guy, rather than the big walk-in shop with multiple employees.

So – on a high from buying gadgets – we then found a supermarket.  Splash out, and buy some cheese and grapes and what-not, to supplement our NZ Sav-Blanc.  Yum.  Then, pass a camera shop.  I splash out and buy a camera for Pen to replace her stolen one.  Northern Bogota is getting rather expensive at this point.  Then – back to the hostel, and enjoy our consumable purchases.  And laze about, tired from all the splashing out.  Then, get hungry again.  Find nearest restaurant.  Is expensive, but I splash out.  Really need to get rid of Pen, and leave Northern Bogota.

09 Oct – today we’re off to see the salt cathedral.  We enjoy our free breakfast, then go catch a bus.  All the way to the northern terminal, and then switch from the metro bus onto a minibus.  And off we go.  Get to the town of Zipaquira.  Nice small town, with nice plaza and big cathedral.  Of course.  Have some lunch, then get a taxi to the salt cathedral.  The salt cathedral is a big underground cathedral, made of salt.  The miners mine salt from a mountain here.  And they decided they were too lazy to walk into town to pray to jeebers.  So they carved a cathedral out of the pre-mined passages.  And it is bloody impressive.  We went with an english-speaking guide, with two other people.  The two others turned out to be kiwis also.  Big caverns carved out of the mountain.  Big.  16 metres high, by 16 metres wide, by 120 metres or something long.  And the fellas carved big crucifixes and stuff for jeebers’s “passage” or something – at the end of each one.  Up the top – so behind the crucifix is this huge cavern.  Not bad.  And then, the cathedral itself.  Big cavern.  Caverns.  And big pillars.  And statues.  And stuff.  All in all, a pretty cool place.  But, we’d had enough – and returned topside.  Then, a quick beer in a local bar – and to the bus station.  And we manage to get on a bus as it’s leaving.  Full of nuns.  Awesome.  Back to Bogota – for a little bit of trinket shopping at streetside stalls.  Where I give in, splash out, and buy some beautiful white linen trousers.  For more than the cheapest price I’d had quoted.  Then, catch a metro bus back to our neighbourhood.  In rush hour.  Rather crowded.  That whole thing about the japanese packing down scrums to cram people onto the subway?  Very similar to that.  But, we survived.  And, passed a supermarket on the way back to our home.  And splash out.  Cheese, wine, gourmet sandwiches, pate, etc.

So, that was Bogota.  Next week, Spidey says… “Pen gets on an airplane, and Kruse hopefully gets on a bus.  Ben gets on a bus too, in completely the wrong direction.”

The Road to Bogota

Kruse Leave a comment

We did manage to avoid the free ron on our last night in Quito. Had a couple of quiet beers, and some curry instead.

So – the morning of 04 Oct, we manage to get up on time. 4-bloody-30. And walk to the bus station. One of those stations that are just for the one company. One other guy waiting there. Office/station closed. Dark and cold in dangerous old Quito. After a while, a chap arrives and opens the office. A little warmer. More people arrive to wait. Buses arrive, and drop off people, who sit around and wait. Two and a half hours after the time we were told to arrive, our bus turns up. Sweet. So, we get on it, and enjoy a five or six hour ride to Tulcan – the Ecuadorian frontier town. The man there tells us that the border is currently blocked. So, we wait. Still blocked. Go have lunch, return. Still blocked. So, we catch a taxi to the local cemetery. Has lots of hedges and trees and stuff cut into shapes. Very cool. Lots and lots. Then, back to bus station. Border is apparently still blocked. So, we wait. Buy beers, and sit outside. Eventually, we’re off.

Into taxis – leaving our bags in the man’s boot. I’m not sure I understand why – but figure it’s a reputable company. Two taxis, as there’s a family of 5 travelling with us. Get dropped off at a roadblock. Border is indeed blocked. Not sure who by. A few trucks, and some burning tyres in the middle of the road. So, we have to walk. I believe the man at the station is bring our bags to us later – when the roadblock finishes. Sweet. Angry civilians blocking the border, us walking through it, and hoping our bags turn up somewhere. Nothing could go wrong here. Then we see a mob of younger folk walking towards the blockade, from the border. With sticks. And having a good go at anybody who rides past/through on a motorcycle. Trying to jam things in the spokes as they pass, and whacking them with their sticks. It looked nasty, but I’m pretty sure that if they’d really wanted to hurt somebody badly – they could have. They were either idiots in the art of hitting people on motorcycles, or they were mostly doing it for show. Still, I got my stupidly small extendable camera out of my pocket, and had it ready as a weapon just in case. They had no problem with people walking through the blockade though. So, eventually, we found the border. Checked out of Ecuador. I chatted with a couple of cops while waiting for Pen. Then, we follow the family of 5 to the Colombian side. Small boy jumps from side to side, between the countries. “Ecuador, Colombia, Ecuador, Colombia”. We all laugh. Pen & I especially, as I had done the same thing with the equator yesterday – “southern hemisphere, northern hemisphere”. We check into Colombia, and then wait, and hope, for our luggage. Grab a quick beer, and sausage on a stick. Order a wine for Pen, and get a 1 litre cask. Hmmm… hold onto that for the bus.

Man does arrive, with our luggage. Sweet. Puts us into two more taxis – which take us to the bus station. By this time, of course, we’re arriving many hours after expected – so I’m not too sure if we’re actually going to have a bus. But – it’s all too easy. The Colombian company which is partnered with the Ecuadorian company we bought tickets off must have very regular buses to Bogota – as we’re given tickets for one leaving within the hour. Sweet. Buy more beers, a snack, and then get on the bus. Feeling rather happy now – we put our bags under our seats (danger of thievery in overhead shelf), and drift off to sleep. An hour or two later – we’re awake. Pen goes to get something out of her bag. It seems lighter. Big box of souvenirs I had tried to send home from La Paz is missing. Odd. I notice a small bag of her tissues on floor of seats behind us. Used to be people behind us, now there aren’t. Then, Pen realises much more stuff is missing. I check my bag – and immediately realise it is much much emptier than it used to be. Everything is gone from my bag except anything in a book form. Much cussing is now going through our heads. I check seat behind – but nothing’s there except tissues. I also try to see how somebody could have done the thievery. Very difficult. Foot rest is a solid panel – leaving just enough room at bottom to maybe squeeze a hand through. But not enough to get the box out – certainly. Very odd. But, nonetheless, everything is gone. Pen’s camera, box of cheap souvenirs, my wooly hats, Icebreaker jersey, Macpac jacket, Leatherman, Maglite (check out all that name-brand stuff – I feel ashamed), drugs (vitamin B12, spirulina, and anti-malaria tablets), MP3 players, and plenty of other stuff I’ve forgotten about. Oh – like the wine. At first, I was sure I’d identified the guilty parties. And, spent the rest of the night fuming about it – running through scenarios in my head of how to confront them.

05 Oct, however, I gradually figure some of my calculations are wrong. Figure that the couple I’ve identified as my worst enemies weren’t actually the same couple who sat behind us originally – and aren’t even a couple. The couple who had done it had, in fact, disembarked as soon as they could. So, while flashes of anger still arose (and still do a couple of days later), there wasn’t anything to do about it – except maybe make some honest mistakes during filing an insurance claim – regarding all the expensive stuff being in Pen’s bag, and all the cheap stuff in mine. (Pen has insurance. I don’t.) Even that, however, wasn’t necessary – as proof of ownership is required for the insurance claim. Of which we have none, for anything.

Anyway, the bus finally got to Bogota. And, we caught a taxi to the old part of town, to find a hostel. Hostel (supposedly “the best hostel in South America”) is full. They recommend another, which we take. Nice lady on the street helps us find it. This, after our taxi driver being extremely chatty and helpful, has confirmed the rumour of Bogota people being very friendly and helpful to foreigners. Well – some of them. Have also had several very dirty suspicious looks. Not much time left in the day, so we have dinner at a local cafeteria type place, and a couple of beers. Then, stop at the supermarket to stock up on booze for the night – and for the rugby tomorrow morning.

06 Oct – I wake up at 8am, and watch England beat Arsetralia. Difficult game to watch – as one wants both teams to lose. But, I support England – as NZ vs England in the semi would be a sure thing – while Arsetralia does know how to beat NZ – even when we’re better than them. So, I’m fairly happy when its time to find breakfast. Then – it rains. Really rains, with a little bit of hail, and a lot of thunder & lightning. So, the plan to head to the northern part of the city – with it’s english bars and airline offices – is abandoned. Instead, we scamper to the hotel. Already drenched, I venture forth again, to purchase supplies for watching the NZ-France game in our room. So, we sit there and wait. And wait. Seppo football. Seppo ten-pin bowling. And plenty of advertisements. But no rugby. Eventually I admit that they’re just not going to play it, and it’s time to head out for dinner. Pen wants to eat at a very ’starbucks’-type looking place, called “Crepes & Waffles”. So we do. I hate crepes, and I hate waffles. Mostly because I’m never really sure what they are. Except, as per Pen’s definition, crepes are pancakes of some description. I hate pancakes. But, we have dinner. Both meals are pretty much a meal, with a crepe placed underneath it. And called a crepe. Maybe I should have asked for my calamari crepe, “hold the crepe please”. The wine was fairly good – but overpriced like the entire place. But – enough whinging about crepes & waffles.

Because, that brings us to the end of today’s update. Just now I learnt the result of the NZ game. So, I’m off to try and read more about it. And pack my All Blacks shirt and scarf back away.

Quito

Kruse Leave a comment

So, like I mentioned, 02 Oct was hungover.  Got up, and went to a gringo cafe.  It’s always a bad sign when a place is called “The Coffee Tree”, in the middle of a spanish speaking country.  But then, for a two block radius, every place here is highly geared towards gringos.  I hate gringos.  And I hate ron.  After breakfast, we stumbled back to the hostel, and commandeered the lounge.  The lounge consists of three walls of mattress-couches, and one wall with a TV and fireplace.  Perfect for hungover.  And I managed to find a brainless action movie.  Perfect.  Did I mention the DVD on the bus to Quito was a Steven Seagal collection?  I should have.  Seagal versus a voodoo drug ring, and then versus a computer nerd on a train.  Sweet.

Anyway, hungover in Quito.  After one, maybe two, movies – it’s time to venture forth again.  We head towards the vivarium.  They reckon they’ve got a 5 metre long cobra.  And a boa you can put around your neck for a photo.  But, it turns out the vivarium is further away than I thought.  So, we retreat.  Get some lunch and internet done on the way back to the hostel.  Then, another adventure.  To the market.  Shopping for trinkets – and have some limited success.  Ecuador hat (panama hat) – purchased.  Can’t bring myself to wear it in Ecuador yet though.  Lots of oversized novelty jewellry to keep Pen happy.  And to convince her to return tomorrow – loaded up with cash.  Dumb.  Platter at “Lennon’s Bar” on the way home.  (Seriously, the names of the bars around here make me think I’m in Courtenay Place or the Viaduct.)  More lounging around the lounge, with some shandies, until annoying english girl turns up – and an early night becomes the obvious decision.  To be fair, we were both extremely tired before the liverpom arrived – but she was certainly the final straw.  A very heavy final straw to break a camel’s back.

03 Sep – a list of things to accomplish.   First – an escape plan.  We find a bus company around the corner with “Internacional” in it’s name.  This sounds promising for a bus right through to Colombia, without the hassle of dodgy taxis from one border town to another.  Very expensive, however.  But – simplicity overcomes finances when there’s more than just me involved – and we take the option of a bus from Quito, right through to Bogota.  28 bloody hours.  We do, however, still have to get off the bus at the Ecuador frontier town, get a taxi (provided/organised by bus company) to the Colombian border town, and then get onto another bus.  Hopefuly there’ll be a bit of free time on the Colombian side before reboarding a bus too.  Ben is going to love this.  The current plan is for him to get from Quito to Bogota to meet me once he’s finished taking photos of blue-footed boobies.

Anyway, we got the tickets.  Then – caught a bus to the Old Town.  (Don’t worry hippies, it was an “Eco-Bus”.  Stinkin’ hippies.)  Old Town is nice.  Like every other colonial city in South America.  Big fancy old churches.  (Which still, every single time I see one, make me wonder… “why didn’t they spend the money and effort in doing ‘christian’ things like helping the poor?”  Ah – but god works in mysterious ways.  The cover-all answer.)  Pretty churches anyway.  One dedicated towards jeebers, and had some woman offer her life to jeebers in order that less natural disasters would affect Quito.  The church has since suffered three earthquakes destroying it substantially or totally, and one serious fire.  Maybe she was ugly.

We had breakfast at an expensive cafe beneath the San Francisco Church/Monastery.  Then – traversed several public transport systems towards the equator.  Got there.  Big orange line painted on the ground.  Cheesy photos – ticked off the list.  Although I wish I hadn’t told Pen that the line wasn’t actually the equator.  Could have had at least one of us enjoying it as if it was real.  Apparently, the guy who designed the tourist attraction built for the equator got his calculations a little wrong.  I believe the line, and sizable concrete monument, they’re so proud of – are 7 seconds of a degree off.  Still – cheesy photos are the only point to the whole thing anyway, and you can’t get them on the actual equator line – because there ain’t no line painted.  After some trinket shopping at the many souvenir shops in the “City Of The Middle Of The World” – it became rather cold.  Closest point to the sun – pah!  Catch the bus back to Quito.  Dropped off somewhere we didn’t expect.  Not too sure where for a little while, and it’s raining.  Turns out, however, that the market is pretty much on the way back to the hostel.  So, Pen does some more trinket shopping while poor old Kruse shivers in his wet white shirt and wet white jandals.   Then, back to the hostel.  Investigate The Irish Pub (yes it’s called that.  They’re all called that here.  The Irish don’t exactly have imaginations though, do they?  Potatoes as a national food?  They aren’t even a native plant!)  next door – but quickly decide that eating there, or even bothering to ask about rugby final coverage is not worthwhile, after seeing the price list.  Opt for a hot toddy, and then run away.  Try to buy Pen a new book for the long bus trip tomorrow, but store is closed.  She blames me.  I think because I suggested on the way that it might be closed.  And now – in an internet cafe.  Internet cafe packed with the hated gringos, but which also serves 2 for 1 cocktails at the moment.  Bloody Mary not included, unfortunately.  Mojitos, and now Caipirinhas.  If that goddamn bar boy stops ignoring me.

So, no contact for a little while.  Tonight we have to try and avoid the bucket of free rum and coke.  5am tomorrow, get on a bus.  Hopefully arrive in Bogota at about 10am the next day.  And maybe, if timings fit in – get straight onto another bus to Cartagena.  Which looks to be another day in a bus.  Not having much time left with Pen is a hindrance.  Especially having promised to take her to Cartagena.  And once I get rid of her, Ben will be back.  With an even more restrictive timetable.  But – now that I’m not trying to get to France in time for the rugby finals – I think I’ll spend another month or two checking out Ecuador and Colombia properly once I’m free of hindrances.  And bragging to Ben about all the things he wanted to do.  Sweet.

Back to La Paz, AGAIN, then Lima

Kruse Leave a comment

22 Sep – hungover.  Again.  Of course.  And still rather drunk, and very very sleep deprived.  So, we go to breakfast.  Much grumpiness by the two worst affected people – Ben & myself – which ’spills’ over into nastiness.  I pull the old trick of unscrewing the salt cap to the point where it looks like it’s on, but is not.  I think I’m doing it in plain sight of Ben.  Turns out, not.  Ben pours an entire shaker of salt onto his chips.  I can’t help but laugh – while trying to explain/apologise.  But he’s grumpy.  Then I get grumpy.  Then it gets worse, and Ben goes to sulk outside.  And I stay inside, still unable to hold my tongue.  Piss off Pen next, then finally manage to stick to my promise of holding my tongue to myself.

Next, Pen & I head to bus company office.  Ben is being an internet nerd.  Again.  Pen & I have to stop for a rest halfway.  A rest turns into Kruse throwing up into a rubbish bin.  Not feeling too well this morning, apparently.  Eventually we manage to get to the bus company office.  It’s closed.  We sit outside for an hour or two.  It’s siesta time, you see.  Eventually I go look for something to drink.  Find a hostel with beer.  Hope that beer will make me feel better.  Big gamble – but it pays off.  Manage to buy tickets, then head back towards Ben.  Find a small market on the way.  Fireworks.  96% alcohol.  Same shop.  Sold.  Kill time for a while with internet.  Let off one firework outside on the way to bus station.  Don’t touch the transparent killer booze.  Stop off at the pub from last night, to get a photo of our entry in their guest book.  Add a little to it.  Apologise to the owner, who doesn’t seem sure why.  And agree to one drink, to sooth my guilt a little.  He suggest the “I Don’t Remember”.  A special teapot type contraption.  7 shots of spirits in seperate containers, which gradually empty into the centre compartment which is filled with beer.  I gulp it down as quick as possible, as it’s nearly time for the bus to leave.  Possibly not the smartest idea.  But, it’s done, and then I hurry to the bus station.  Get on bus.  Rather comfortable bus, but possibly the most uncomfortable sleep I’ve had yet.  Get up to throw up into the toilet one time during the night.

So, get to La Paz on the morning of the 23 Sep, still feeling like crap.   Go back to the tried and true hostel.  Use their free internet to try and find a place I’d heard rumours of with a swimming pool.  But – no luck.  So check back in.  Then, I discover that the All Blacks game against Scotland is this morning.  And we’re wanting some food.  So, off to La Paz’s self-described “100% Fake English Pub”.  Don’t like the sound of it, but it’s the best bet for rugby.  And sure enough – it delivers.  A little late.  And with a very talkative american co-owner.  But good enough.  Until a little chap with a very high-pitched annoying voice sits directly behind us.  Very annoying.  Even before he starts talking about the haka to his friends.  I don’t think he made a single correct comment.  And then onto the weaknesses of the All Blacks.  After not long, I’m fuming.  His voice is not only annoying, and speaking nonsense – but is extremely loud.  I mutter under my breath for some time, but Ben is the first to crack.  The irish guy (turns out he’s irish) had said something about the All Blacks not having a chance to win the world cup, because of their weak defence.  Ben turns around to point out that their is a zero next to scotland on the board.  Then it’s all on.  I finally get dragged in to ask the guy if he’s talking to Ben, or the people at the opposite end of the bar.  My voice trembling with suppressed rage.  It wouldn’t have been so bad if he’d been talking nonsense to his friends at an appropriate level.  But he obviously intended everybody in the bar to hear his private conversation.  And there was an irish couple seated near us, who obviously were now cringing – ashamed of this chap.  And without talking to them, they’d seemed nice.  We talked to them afterwards, and they were indeed nice, and indeed were cringing about the little leprechaun.  Ahhh.. the leprechaun.  Several phrases which he used repeatedly (and by repeatedly, I mean over 10 times each):  ”I saw the game against Italy, and they really showed up the NZ centre defence” , “If they’re struggling to put Scotland away, there’s no way they can go much further” , “Scotland, I mean no offence (to his socttish friend), but they’re the whipping boys of the 6 Nations now” , “As soon as you face Australia or South Africa, they’re going to mop the floor with you”.  And yes, we did use certain facts to try to stop him from repeating himself.  The scores of the games against Italy & Scotland, for example.  And the result of the Tri-Nations.  But still, he’d just keep going.  Eventually I went and sat elsewhere.  I returned later, and Ben had managed to calm him down somehow, and they were discussing rugby in a normal tone, and it seemed to be rather more rational.  Pen & I chatted with his friends, who were much more restrained.

After a while, and getting the american guy to make bloody marys for the bar – by individually peeling, squashing, and filtering tomatoes – Pen remembered it was Sunday.  And therefore, the wrestling was on.  So off we went.  Figured out how to get there, and went there.  Taxi to the satellite city of La Paz – and queued up for tickets.  Ladies wrestling, is what it’s advertised as.  We’re forced to buy a “Tourist Ticket” – which is about 10 times the price of locals.  But they show us a pre-printed blurb to explain why – and please don’t argue.  It kind of makes sense, but obviously lies.  ”Protect the local atmosphere”.  Then, when we get inside, all the tourists are on plastic chairs right by ringside.  But, we get two free toilet passes – a free snack – and a souvenir.  Toilet passes – turns out there are 5 toilet stalls.  One with a sign on the door saying “Tourist Toilet”.  The girl at the toilet entrance unlocks the padlock on it when we want to use it.  Hmmm.  Free snack – not bad, a drink and a choice of chips or popcorn.  Souvenir – a tiny tiny little figurine of a woman.  Not a woman wrestler.  Just a local woman holding something.  Maybe a watermelon?  Too small to really tell.

But then, the wrestling.  Turns out to be normal pro-wrestling – mostly guys.  A couple of girls involved at the end.  But all in all, pretty cool.  There was a group of koreans(?) sitting near us.  One of the bad guys (dressed in military fatigues) came out, and teased the korean tourists with the old ”slant-eye” gesture.  Helping the tourists figure out the good guys from bad, I guess.  Not that hard anyway – the ref always hugged the bad guy when he got in.  The same ref for every match.  Bad guy.  At one point I stood up to threaten him, and security rushed in to make me sit down.  Thought the gringo couldn’t tell fact from fiction.  After not long, the crowd was throwing stuff at the contestants.  Fruit, empty plastic bottles, etc.  Anything.  Children running through the protective barriers to recover ammo.  I got my hand slapped by one wrestler.  Pretty happy.  Then, near the end, the fireworks started.  Not literally – unfortunately.  Wish I’d taken some though.  But, they started throwing each other over the protective barriers – into the crowd.  And of course, the crowd next to the barrier is all tourists.  The koreans took a couple of serious poundings.  Guys fully thrown over, and landing in their laps.  People and chairs flying everywhere.  Awesome.  The second time – about 8 people went flying, including the guy right next to me.  I was just on the right side of the border between amused spectators, and dazed unwilling participants.  I think that may have been one of the ladies that was thrown, actually.  Anyway – all in all a good night.  Rather tired by the end of it.

24 Sep – get up and figure we need to do some useful stuff.  First on the list – making sure Ben can actually stay a bit longer than originally intended.  He’s got agreement from work – so now we just need to see if he can actually change his flights.  So – off to see the airline.  Airline is closed for siesta.  We wander around a bit.  Back to airline.  Ben gets told there are no seats available for any appropriate days.  Dumb.  Do some shopping on the way back.  None of the jerseys fit me very well.  Which is a shame, because there were some spectacular ones.  Pen breaks a mirror.  Then, buy bus tickets to Lima for tomorrow morning (a 26 hour journey) and back to the hostel.  Ben confirms there are actually seats available – and we head all the way back to the airline.  It’s closed.  Dinner, then back to hostel.  Much walking today.  So, I brew up some coca tea.  I’ve discovered that if one chops up coca leaves, and drinks them through the yerba mate equipment – one gets a very odd feeling.  Rather hyperactive.  Then – somebody puts a DVD on.  The Transformers.  Sweet.  Ben rushes down, followed by Pen, and we watch Transformers, with coca tea and cerveza.  After this, Ben & I are wide awake – so we then put on The Simpsons.  Pen goes to bed.  2am or so – we’re asked to finish up.  Sure.  Have to be up at 7 anyway.

7am, 25 Sep.   We struggle up.  Not feeling the best.  Catch a taxi to the bus terminal, with the french guy whose DVD player and discs we watched last night.  Onto the bus.  Which is a van.  Drive to the Peruvian border – then we do Bolivia migration, walk across a small wooden bridge, to Peru migration – and then find our bus company.  Luggage has been dropped off – and we now apparently wait for an actual bus.  Got an hour to kill – so wander around the town.  Lots of street stalls selling DVDs.  Including Terminator 4, and Apocolypto 2 & 3.  For those of you who don’t know – these technically don’t exist.  To my knowledge, although perhaps they have come out since I’ve been away?  I doubt it.  I’ve been looking for Die Hard 5.  Back to bus company – and all our stuff and fellow passengers have gone.  Go to look for them, and succeed.  Yay.  Then, wait around while they clean the outside of the bus.  Onto the bus.  Pen & I have 2 of the Death Seats.  2nd floor, right up the front.  Most likely to die in case of an accident.  Sweet.  Comfortable though, as we can put our feet up on the window; and a good view of oncoming traffic – which sometimes isn’t such a good thing, as bus drivers here love to overtake.  Movies start to be played.  Some DVDs work, some don’t.  But – there’s a constant stream of them.  Constant.  Eventually, sometime after dinner is served, they stop.

26 Sep – more DVDs.   Breakfast.  Then, finally, Lima.  Pushy taxi drivers first thing in the morning after a 26 hour bus ride is not a good thing.  It only took the first guy two attempts at asking if I wanted a taxi before I lost the pleasant tone to my voice.  Didn’t quite snap, but was pretty close to.  But, eventually, we got ourselves together, and got a taxi.  Took us to a taxi he obviously gets a commission from – but then talked down the price for us.  So – we’ve got a place to stay.  And tired.  But – need to get Ben’s goddamn flight home sorted.  So, we have lunch, then find the airline office.  Busy.  With half the staff at lunch.  Ben takes a ticket.  Pen & I find the bar of a 5-star hotel, and have some drinks.  I drink reasonably priced beer, Pen drinks champagne cocktails.  The toilet has a huge bottle of listerine, with a pump lid.  I take full advantage.  Eventually Ben comes out.  Reckons it’s gonna cost a ludicruous amount of money to change his flights.  Dumb.  We head back to the hostel.  Pen & I find a supermarket.  Buy blue cheese, wine, and beer.  A man approaches me in the supermarket, trying to sell me marijuana and/or cocaine.  I find the concept of buying cocaine in a supermarket amusing, but decline the nice man.  I wonder what would he do if I insisted on taking it to the check-out girl for a price check?  Back to the hostel, and we sit outside with some pleasant beverages, and cheese.  Then, we head back towards supermarket.  Stop at travel agency – and buy luxury bus tickets to the northern border for tomorrow afternoon.  Ben & Pen return to the supermarket.  I return to the hostel, and wait for them.  They eventually return, laden with ridiculous foodstuffs.  Blue cheese.  Soft cheese.  Hard cheese.  Bread.  Vienetta icecream.  Artichokes.  Palm hearts.  Foie gras.  Sparkling wine.  Red wine.  I don’t know what else.  But we eat it.

27 Sep – sleep in a fair bit, and then spend a while at the breakfast table finishing leftovers from last night.  Eventually we leave.  Taxi to the bus station – and drop off our stuff.  Then, taxi to the centre of Lima.  Spot the famous Lima traffic jams on the way.  Not much time to do the main sights – but we’ll give it a go.  Marvel at the central square (is pretty cool) while rushing past it.  First – the Museum of the Inquisition.  Based in the base of the Spanish Inquisition for all of South America.  Not as big or impressive as I’d expected, but not bad.  A couple of lifesize models being tortured.  A large jury/parliament type room.  Where each desk has a Philips brand speaker with electronic voting device included.  The spanish inquisition was far ahead of it’s time.  And that’s about it.  Then – on to the San Francisco Monastery.  This had tickled my attention buds when I’d happened to read a line regarding the discovery of the catacombs.  In which there is the bones of 70,000 people.  Only discovered in 1951, they reckon.  So, we went there.  Very little time left.  Only option to see it is a guided tour.  We join a spanish language tour.  Cursing everytime somebody asks a question.  Nice library though.  And a couple of nice altars and churchy stuff and what-not.  Very nice in fact.  Catacombs are the last top.  Very very short on time now.  Into the catacombs.  Bones.  Lots and lots of bones, everywhere.  Ben and I sneak off down side passages, and find more bones.  Pits of bones.  Shelves of bones.  Rooms where each type of bone has been put into it’s own compartment.  So many bones.  But, eventually we run out of time.  The tour group has done a full circle of the catacombs – and the guide is about to show everybody a side passage which Ben & I had already sneaked down.  We take our leave, and scarper.  Find a taxi – and we’re off.  Taxi seems to take a different way back.  Seems to be heading further and further off track, into some less than busy looking streets.  I get a little nervous, but think we’re still going in vaguely the right direction.  Make sure that Ben is sitting behind the driver – so that in trouble we can both grab him.  Then Ben & Pen ask me if we’re going in the right direction also.  We wait a little longer – but I’m ready to try to drive the car from the passenger side after telling Ben to grab the driver from behind.  Then – tow truck, backing sports car into garage, blocks road.  Completely stops, while they offload the car.  We’re certainly past the time we’re supposed to be at the terminal – but with some time to spare until the bus actually leaves.  Tow truck takes it’s time.  Then, the truck won’t restart.  Nervous laughter.  Eventually, it moves.  And we get to the bus station without being kidnapped, and with the bus still there.  Yay.  We get on the bus.  But my can of beer is confiscated.  Dumb.  Take our seats.  We’ve put Ben right up the front, in a Death Seat – and Pen&I right down the back.  More movies.  Dinner.

Next update, we play bingo on the bus.  Also, cross the border into Ecuador, and hopefully get rid of Ben.

Salar de Uyuni

Kruse Leave a comment

I’ve got a plastic bag next to my legs containing a one litre bottle of 96% ‘drinkable’ alcohol, and a dozen pieces of fireworks.  So I’m going to rush things a bit.

18 Sep – we went shopping.  Ben & I bought a suit each, while Pen sat playing with the young boy who liked to throw his food on the floor and sneak peeks at the big gringos trying on trousers.  We bought suits.  And ties.  Paisley ties, Moscow 1980 Olympics ties, and others.  Then Ben does his nerd thing for ages.  I buy more ties.  Big strong bear tie.  Big wide stripey tie.  Then we sit around.  Meet arsetralian Pete again.   From Rio.  Ran into him in Copocabana, and then he enters our hostel.  He has a girlfriend now, and doesn’t seem to want to play chess against Kruse so much anymore.  Fair enough – I wasted him last time.  And girlfriends are better than chess.

Anyway, we went to the bus station to get on our bus.  After a while, a lady leads us and other gringos to the bus.  Out of the bus station.  Along the road.  Across the road.  Along another road.  Reasonably long walk – enough to make the gringos start laughing nervously.  Eventually, we find a bus parked on the side of the motorway.  Then, we wait while locals load huge sacks of something onto the bus.  Ben feels not so good.  Ben is a hom.  One hour later – we get onto the bus.  Then we leave.  Finally.  Pen & Ben find it uncomfortable.  Fair enough, I guess.  Lingering smell of faeces (from when we were waiting – concrete canal of something which smelled suspicious).

19 Sep – we arrive in Uyuni a little late.  But early enough to get our stuff, go to tour agency and confirm we actually have a tour, and then breakfast.  I don’t get my eggs.  I like eggs, but he didn’t give them to me.  Dumb.  Then, into the landcruiser.  We have one arsetralian couple, and one israeli.  His name is weird, so I decide to call him Jude.  Short for judaism.  Our driver/guide is called Oscar.  We drive places.  Train cemetery.  Group of kiwis thinking they’re funny wearing cowboy hats and bandannas.  Ben & Kruse actually being funny wearing suit with tie.  Then, small town where they process the salt.  Buy trinkets – cup & dice made of salt.  Then, we get to the salt flat proper.  Salt flat is cool.  Big.  White.  Flat.  Salt.  Take a few inappropriate photos, then go on.  Stop again, more photos.  Don’t take advantage of the lack of perspective for cheesy photos.  Do take advantage of the large amount of white powder for cheesy photos.  More driving.  Salt hotel.  Hotel made of salt.  Have a beer.  Paddle in their pool, wearing suit.  Lick the wall.  Drive on – nearly leaving Penelope behind.  Not quite.  Oh well, maybe next time.  Island in the middle of the white.  Cactus which is 1200 years old.  German girl in bikini pretending to hug cactus.  Ben & Kruse in suits.  Lunchtime – we buy lots of cerveza.  Give Oscar one.  We kind of set the precedent regarding booze.  Drive on.  Another salt hotel.  Have a nice cuppa tea, and nearly watch sunset.  Drink whisky.  Drink beer.  Drink wine.  Teach israel & arsetralia the chinese dice game.  Drink more.  Eventually – bedtime.

20 Sep – up at 5:30.  Quick breakfast.  I eat nada, as hangover and dry bread do not mix well.  Into landcruiser.  Oscar drives us onto the salt, and we watch the sunrise.  Cool.  Then – onwards.  Us and arsetralians played the “What’s your favourite song about …?” game.  Good game.  It quickly turned into “Name every song you can think of about …?”  Better game.  Then we went to a pre-incan cemetery.  Mummies in rock holes.  One had a hat on.  One had his skull sitting next to his pelvis & spine.  Then we drove some more.  Saw some pink flamingos.  I scared them all away so that people had to walk to other places to take photos.  Then we drove some more.  Oscar drives good.  Another lake.  More pink flamingos.  And some white ones.  Lunch – and a very expensive (relatively) bottle of wine.  More driving.  Saw a big stone that looks like a tree.  It’s called the stone tree.  Inappropriate photos.  Or appropriate photos.  Depends on your perspective, I guess.  More lakes.  More flamingos.  Then a red lake.  Lake – very red.  Very pretty.  Then to a tiny settlement in the middle of the desert – and negotiate a room.  Arsetralians and kiwis are worried for a while.  No bar in evidence.  Kruse does the legwork, and finds one.  Buy cerveza.  Drink cerveza.  Discuss marrying a llama.  Buy more cerveza.  Drink it.  Kruse goes back, buys ALL the cerveza.  And a bottle of wine.  Rather cold by now.  Very very cold.  Drink the cerveza sitting around the fire.  Put balaclavas on.  Scare swiss girls in next room.  Ha.  Off to bed late and drunk, after being told we’re leaving at 4am.

21 Sep – I wake up to daylight.  Figure the whole 4am thing hasn’t gone too well.  The israeli is full of panic.  Tries to wake up Oscar.  Lady tells him to let Oscar sleep.  I want to tell him to let Kruse sleep – but I’m just too damned nice.  Eventually we all get up.  Nearly every other landcruiser is gone.  Three left.  Two with two flat tyres.  Including ours.  The raucous noise from the guide’s hut/quarter starts to make sense.  I notice many empty beer cans there.  Either drunken joke, or malicious anti-our-company – but either way Oscar is looking dishevelled, and we have two flat tyres.  And Oscar seems to have a bruise under his eye.  So – tyres re-inflated, and we’re off.  Oscar is rather obviously still drunk.  Some rather fast driving – but Ben & myself are happy – as we’re hoping to find out, and catch, whoever punched our Oscar.  Oscar does have several conversations with people we meet at various scenic points.  Nothing which seems like accusations though – so no biffo.  We see some lakes.  Green lake is my least favourite.  Geysers.  I don’t like geysers.  Then, a hole with steam coming out.  We have a genuine flat tyre.  I help Oscar change the tyre, and also play with the steamhole.  Throw rocks into it, and watch them fly up.  Find some snow – throw that in.  Snow is cold.  Very very cold at 5200m above sea level.  I roll the flat tyre over the steam hole.  Sweet.  More driving.  More lakes.  Llamas.  Start drinking whisky.  And playing the “Speights beer cap trivia game”.  Didn’t have speights.  Did have a bottle of whisky.  You figure it out.  Then we saw some big rocks.  I climbed a big rock.  More landcruiser.  More speights-beer-cap-game.  Finished the whisky.  Onto the bottle of wine bought last night.  Then, another flat tyre.  About 200 metres from the outskirts of Uyuni township.  Borrow a tyre from another landcruiser driving past.  Back home.  Sweet.

Then – try to get bus to La Paz.  But they’re all full.  So – decision made… a night in Uyuni.  Pizza for dinner, video camera filming band also seems to like us.  We act appropriately.  Or inappropriately – depends on your point of view, I guess.  Find a hostel.  Drop stuff of.  Drop Pen off.  Ben & Kruse go for a walk.  Pass on the gringo bar despite it advertising “No chickens”.  Drink at a restaurant next to a table of teenage german girls.  Talk serious stuff.  Growing old, marriage, children, wishing we were single so we could  do more than be looked at by 6 teenage german girls.  Restaurant closes.  We eventually settle for the “no chickens” gringo bar.  Order drinks.  Find a big scrapbook – inviting us to write which “extreme drinks you drank”.  No entry is too impressive, other than the entire page of unintelligible drunken scribbling.  We decide something needs to be done.  So we drink the bar.  If anybody has ever seen Ben and myself attempt to “drink the bar” – you’ll know what we did.  And we succeeded this time.  Then a little peroxide-blonde english chap tried to talk to us.  Bad idea.  Ben started picking a fight.  I was in full “Sorry about my mate, he’s a dick and drunk” mode.  But occasionally lapsed into “being Ben” mode.  Eventually little blonde pom and his friends invited us out onto the street to “talk about this some more”.  We agreed.  Then drank their beer while they waited outside.  I’m a lover, not a fighter.  Or maybe a drinker.  Ben being extremely smashed, and bar staff not being too keen on us anymore (used to be keen.  Given free drink out of a clay vessel in the shape of a female body – with a hole to drink from in a most inappropriate/appropriate location)  – we left.  Not too sure what happened after that.  Vague memories and blurry photos of Ben lying on the ground after falling over a knee-high fence in a park somewhere.  A little bit of climbing onto roofs.  Perhaps some breaking into the supper room of an expensive hotel.  Eventually got back to our hostel, after lock-down time.  Tried to break in, perhaps?  Got let in, I think.  Woke up Penelope with “not too sure if the police are after us”. 

And that’s the salt flats.  Highest salt flat IN THE WORLD.  Biggest salt flat IN THE WORLD.  Ten billion tons of salt.  Now is time for me to think of what to do with 96% alcohol and a box of fireworks.  Then bus back to La Paz tonight.