Not originally on the itinerary, Uruguay became the next destination- as chance (and word of mouth) uruguay was rumoured to be a brilliant beach get away, easily done in a few days from Buenos aires. 

Another journey of disrupted sleep on an Overnight bus to Montevideo and onward to Punte Del Esta. High season promised wild parties that spilled from the clubs along the beachfront onto the sand- but it was low season, and Punte del esta seemed a little sleepy and worn around the edges. The beaches were beautiful, however, and quiet in the chill. It was an odd beginning to the journey- an extortinate cab fare which took us to a hostel that was closed (despite our booking) save for the owner, Federico; whose attractive smile helped turn the disasterously stressful morning into a far better day.

We gently strolled along the length of beach swept clean by the winds; a quaint wooden promenade and an incredible ‘Freddo’s’ icecream (Dulce de leche and banana split) before being driven to the other hostel of the same owner (this one open for business).

The more central location of this hostel meant there was a little more life, but it still felt to be yawning, worn from past partying in earlier months. What saved it was a beautiful sunset that poured through the wooden slatted promenade, and a dinner date of the very best kind. We stumbled upon a quiet family run restaurant, nestled into the corner, though every other table was empty,  tucked in to home cooked (with many vegetarian options!) food and chatted away for hours in a nostalgic haze and wine tinted glasses, which made the funny things just that bit funnier. ‘Salut!’ to wonderful friends that stand the tests and stress - yes, you Amanda Burton

Onto Montevideo, Uruguay’s Capital and eventually Colonia. An intriguing historical town, a small maze of cobbled streets and colourful stucco houses, art galleries and quirky cafe’s made a pleasant  day or 2 of exploration.

One of the things that struck me most about Uruguay was a the seemingly ever lasting ciesta lifestyle- every kind of person from business men, to gaggles of mothers with young children to the street vendors and market sellers all carried an enormous hot water flask underneath their left arm, with a gourd full to the brim of Yerba Mate. An intensely herbal, bitter-grassy tea, drank religiously and continuously through a metal straw. the ceramonial way in which i’ts drank and passed around and filled and refilled and passed again around the group seems ritualistic; but I was secretly happy to be welcomed to join in on the whole experience.

   Excitement was found not in the place but the people. a whirlwind romance, meals, wine bottles later and similarities lost in translation meant I soon made the journey back across Rio de la Plate, this time (and eventually- a unfortunate and longwinded journey back that resulted in sleeping  in the terminal having been directed to the wrong boat by staff who were unsympathetic to my predicament) crossing the river by Ferry in Buenos Aires. 

“All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware.”

Your truly a traveller when a simple phrase like ‘help yourself to the hostel breakfast’ is like winning the lottery, having just come off a something-teen bus journey, battled yet another new metro maze and somehow stumbled upon the hostel with severe sleep deprivation several hours before check in’s are allowed. Manda and I struck gold with our Hostel in San Telmo (Buenos Aires). The decor was nothing to write home about, but the shabby corners seemed worn away with love and use rather than lack of maintenance and the staff were some of the friendliest we’e met. plus the little sun terrace was just so perfect for drying the clothes I’d washed in the sink.

Buenos Aires was the city i was most excited about. It breathed deeply with an artistic flare that seemed to just eminate through the whole city. Theatre, arts, cafe’s, the architecture, the music and of course the People. I’d researched and thumbed through so many articles and sites that i had conjoured a somewhat fantastical interpretation of the capital. My fingers were a little blue upon arrival having been so frimly crossed the entirity of the bus journey (that was bloody long); I desperately hoped not to be disapointed by Buenos Aires.

The Graffiti that seemed to run through the city like a network of veins connecting the artistic blood the fuelled and ruled the architectural wonders. It’s breathe stinking sweetly of alfajore’s and steak, and the slight pulsation of Tango and romance; tinted richly rosy with red wines and coffee; and left me quite unable to be anything less than in love with it.

…To be continued and hopefully with photographic retieration.

Caras sonrientes, lugares lindos                             Smiling Faces, Beautiful Places

   Having survived probably the most horrendous bus journey- stress levels ready to burst, bleary eyes blinked back tears, a fresh tattoo weeped where it had been scraped, unsavoury personalities, fickle bus bays, grimy American neighbours, and a cold bumpy bus ride through the  Andes throughout the night which left us shivering at a boarder crossing in the early hours of the morning- we finally arrived in Mendoza, Argentina.

A sleepy tree lined town, with a Cafe culture as full bodied as the wine and Coffee. a siesta lifestyle that allowed for indulgences in the heladerias- sampling the most the amazing ice cream flavours and coffee accompaniments.

Though more like a hotel inside, our first choice hostel left us with an unfriendly taste in our mouth, so we opted to move to Empadrado. It’s run down exterior was more than made up for by its wholesome friendliness, and breakfast spread which has yet to be topped!

On a whim we decided to Watch a contemporary dance performance as part of a theatre festival. The first piece was medicore, but the final piece was astonishing. I’m still unsure as to whether i enjoyed it, it was a bravely bold piece that hit hard with it’s brazen demonstrations of sex and nudity. but there is no question just how unbelievably talented the performers were, true masters in command of their bodies.

Having braved cities fora little too long, we were eager to embark on some more adventurous activities. 

The hike was meager in comparison to our epic Macchu pichu and Andean hikes, but the Absailing down 3 cliff faces, each getting more challenging, to end by melting into natural hot springs satisfied our adventure craving. we got harnessed up, and began our 3 descents

The initial few steps over the edge of the cliff caught my breath, but we quickly fond the enjoyment of sliding down the rope, by means of jumping and running

I watched Amanda and her big smile disappear over the lip of the final, and by far the highest cliff. She quickly hopped skipped and jumped her way down. She watched my rear as i followed suit, sailing trotting and jumping down.

 After waiting what seemed a lifetime for our ‘Milanesa’ (“minute”) lunches, I eventually sunk into the hot springs that teemed with scantily clad Argentinians.

We laughed the whole evening over Al fresco dinging and marry making Cocktails, having met up with people we’d met Abseiling, Christoph and Lena. We were escorted home by a four legged guardian angel. The friendliest guard dog I’d ever met!

In True Mendoza fashion we opted for a Wine tour on Bicycles.

 We waved farewell to Mr. Hugo, whom rented us the bikes and set of along tree lines roads to catch up with the rest of our group from our hostel, already merrily sampling wines.

The Vineyards were Beautiful, the Wineries told interesting stories of their history and Cellars. and the wine went down ever so wonderfully, especially Mendoza’s infamous Malbec.

Every time we hopped on our bikes we wobbled a little more on our way to the next Winery, each seemed more beautiful than the next, and the wine was free flowing. and we merrily sipped away in the sun

We hurriedly returned to the hostel, not forgetting to pick up our complimentary wine from Mr. Hugo, packed our still sopping laundry into our rucksacks, bid farewell to Magical Mendoza and cozied up (still merry from the wine) for yet another up-teen hour bus journey to the City I was most excited about: Buenos Aires, Argentina’s Capital

 Beso’s x

The Tour throgh Bolivia came to an end in Santiago. the final night in a hotel made a welcome change to bush camping and isolated hostels! we had our last supper as our small, but truly wonderful group - a little local restauarant similar to that of a ‘dai pai dong’ in Hong Kong terms.

  But in our two weeks traveling, we became tight knit and we decided to embark on one last adventure together before Tom and steph galavanted of to New Zealand and Australia, and Fabiana took another tour group. We rented a Car and battled through the spaghetti roads and winding Vineyard roads to Viña del Mar. We stopped by a roadside cheese farm, nestled amoung the vineyards and sampled some of the fresh goats cheese before arriving in Isla Negra; Home of Pablo Neruda. “The best moments in reading are when you come accross a phrase or sentance that speaks to you. It;s as if someones hand has reached out and touched yours” (History Boys, Alan Bennett); For me the discovery of this poet, infamous for his richly descrīptive language throughout South America, was monoumental. I began the day knowing nothing of him, but every collection and room in his house amazed me and every word he wrote even more so, I left a little bit in love.

“Te amo como se aman ciertas cosa oscuras,
secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma.
(I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.)”
— Pablo Neruda

We continued on to  Viña del Mar. What I’d perceived to be a little seaside getaway. in fact was a ocean hugging city. out of our depth we were pulled to safety, rather energetically, by a friendly stranger who restored my faith in human kindness. He was fizzing ball of energy who proceeded to give us a tour of the city and took us to his favourite local restaurant. dark woodened panneled, with patriotic chilean flags adorning the cieling, a gap-toothed musician played the guitar and serenaded a elderely lady celebrating her birthday. On everyable was the usual bread, oil and spicy dipping sauce and nothing else except mountains of meat. we were a noveltiy in this truly authentic restaurant, an I more so when I requested a Vegatarian option. everyone devoured their meat laden plates, and I tucked into what was becoming my staple diet- plain salad, an egg and some bread. We continued alongthe boardwalk, taking in the in the view and I endulged in my sweet tooth which has learnt to scream ever so loud - Helado!

we made our way back to the car, and after a battle with the stubborn car alarm made it safely back to Santiago. After a bit of a break down on my behalf, we eventually found our new hostel, which in every way made the nightmarish journey to find it worth it. Aji Chili hostel, a hidden gem that housed some fantiastic people and owners.

We Ventured to Talca for a few Days, slightly south of Santiago. I have been continually reminded, and amazed, on this trip by how small the world really is. I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself as Amanda and I sat in the corner of a local restaurent where all eyes seemed to keep finding there way to us, in a town where very few tourists found themselves, in Chile. Sat with Amanda’s friend from University, Charlotte and her boyfriend talking about utterly normal things in these anything but normal surroundings. A big thank you to them for kindly letting us stay with them. Talca was badly hit by the earthquake, the severly damaged buildings with deep cracks and collapsed walls exposing someones living room or bathroom was a somber reminder of the severity of the situation. Talca is relitively untouched since it struck, where as the damage in Santiago was barely noticable- grand historical buildings had been patched up or rebuilt.

We returned to Santiago, and remained a few days longer than expected. we enjoyed the city and the people we’d met there: The hostel guests gathered in the lounge every evening and we sat together and ate a dinner prepared by the owners, who also came out to salsa with us. it was a happening homely hostel where the guests gelled easily. a group of us hiked up ‘Mt Kiwi’ to take in the View of Santiago- a basin capital bordered by snow capped mountains.

We walked through the ‘Beverely hills’ of santiago; through houses worthy of cribs and guard dogs ready to eat any one who so much looked at them. up through a pathway the guard showed us, this wasn’t a usual tourist trail, but private property. We Stayed sitting on the hilltop, with our secret view on Santiago untill the sun began to go down, and we got a little chilly in Chile.

Sociable santiago

Wandering through a market with labrynth isles, spices meats and seafood and fresh fruit. A feast for the eyes and a little too much for the nose to handle. Though there were many food stalls crammed into alley ways one daren’t even breathe in, we opted for an al fresco mearket meal a little out of the heart of the market. A little old lady fed us with a fericity that showed it was an eat and leave type deal- an array of juices in different sized glasses were placed infront of us. the food was simple and bland but it hit the spot and lined our stomachs for the wild night out that followed.

The trip has been inspiring, Chile felt like a good place to get my tattoo. Pictures an explantation a little later!

“Here I came to the very edge where nothing at all needs saying…and every day on the balcony of the sea wings open fire is born and everything is blue again like morning.”
— Pablo Neruda

San Pedro De Atacama was alive with a festival hum that didn’t seem to die down for the entirety of the long weekend that the town along with the whole of Chile celebrated their independence; Chilean National Day was certainly reason to be merry and drink through till morning. 

We’d camped one night in a Butlin-esque happy campers complex, and ventured early the next morning to the main street of San Pedro - Romantically mexican with it’s terra-cotta bricked walls & streets. We were serenaded by a pair of drunken fellows merrily singing of their devotion to the two poor gringo girls sat on the doorstep waiting for the bike hire shop to open (Amanda and I). Another elderly gentleman boasted his ability to still be able to ride a bike (albeit wobbly) after an entire weekend of drinking, he too was a little to friendly and followed us for a bit too long. thankfully fresh faced as we were in comparison to him, we out-peddled him and continued onward the 25km ride to the Salt Lagoon. 

25 km each way through the Atacama desert to paradise  seemed an easy feat in comparison to the 62 km downhill adventure on the Bolivian Death road. then we attempted it: blistering dry heat that seemed to burn my throat as I breathed, as well as a face that felt close to exploding due to my sinusitis. we sped along for about 8km, when from a little way behind me came a voice “Danni, stop stop, stop!”. I turned an discovered Manda nursing a lovely puncture and flat tire. adamant to fix it she tried in vain to pump the tire having managed to do a sterling job of changing it, the pump we’d been given incase of just such an emergency was utterly useless. typical. not so typical was the fact the the bike owner came to pick us up as a lovely surprise, and gave us a lift to the Salt Lagoon (the pump hadn’t worked for him either, he also nearly crashed as we drove through the sand dune- swallowed road). the drama of the journey seemed a distant memory as I stood on white salt facing postcard paradise.

Laguna Cejar boasted a shallow salt shelf that gave way into a deep blue lagoon, that despite it’s near freezing temperature allowed one to float effortlessly on the salty water.

We sunbathed in the heat to warm up, the salt crystalised white on our skin. a perfect paradise was perfected by a flock of Flamingo’s that flew in a perfect ‘v’ above.

I could have stayed there forever; especially so at the thought of the ride back through the scorching desert heat and sand in the middle of the day.

I decided to put my head down and ride as fast as I was able. but with the little water I has left and intense head pains from dehydration and sinusitus it was near impossible. Thankfully Manda came to my rescue as we asked a passing car for some water, and kindly gave me a little. Parched and feeling utterly awful we arrvived back to the Campsite. 

That night we Salsa’d the night away in a local bar, the music and alcohol flowed true latino style. 

Besote x