teaandjay

[teaandjay]

Numbers, slumbers and the trip’s wonders

When we came back from the last big trip, quite a few people asked us if we knew how far we'd travelled, how many places we'd stayed and various others. So this time I decided to keep a record of what we've been up to. Nerdy, yes... interesting? We'll see.

Getting around

Most of the time, the humble bus has been our friend - over the last year or so, we've taken 138 of them. Buses have come in many forms, from fancy pants Cruz del Sur buses in Peru that are a bit like planes with wheels, to the overnight one we took to Rurrenabaque in Bolivia that was basically a shed with an engine and a few seats. In total, we've racked up a total of 660 hours on buses, with the longest being 22 hours from El Chalten to El Bolson in Argentina.

We've taken a few other choice modes of transport - three flights, a fair few boats and even a motorbike-powered mini train thing into the Colombian jungle. Add in all these, and you get a grand total of 823.5 hours spent just getting from A to B - or just over a month solid in other words.

We've had a crack at working out the distances, too. In our 293 days in South America, we racked up 30399km, while Central and Mexico worked out at 87 days and 7542km. Add in the flights from London to Rio via Rome, and back from Mexico via the US and Canada, and that gives a grand total of 57611km and 856.5 hours on the road, over the water and in the air over the course of 380 days.

Staying the night

As the trip is officially our honeymoon, lots of people are keen to know where we've been sleeping. Dorms, mostly, is the answer. Like the buses, there's plenty of room in that definition, from bunk-filled shacks on the beach in Uruguay to super-fancy minimalist pod-style efforts in Guatemala. All up, we've spent 216 nights living it up in dorms.

We also worked out that we spent 3 nights in hammocks, 11 nights in tents - how horrific - and we've also done 22 night buses, plus the out and back plane rides. How romantic.

The best bits

Top three countries Mexico - we saved the best for last and Mexico delivered in spades. It's a perfect combination of people, sights and food (ding-ding-ding)! We have probably never travelled in a friendlier country.

Colombia - everyone told us we'd love it and they weren't wrong. Colombia is a country transformed from the dark days of the early 90s. We loved the jungle, the people and the ruins. Shame about the food though. 

Nicaragua - this little surprise ticket was our favourite in Central America. The landscape is full of lakes and volcanoes, distances are wonderfully short and of course, there's Flor de Cana in bucketloads.

Top three views The top of the Union Pass, Peru - this trip has been rich in incredible scenery so this top spot has been hard earned. But this pointy-peak, turquoise laguna vista is absolutely breathtaking. Literally, as it turns out, as the top of the pass is at 4750m. 

The Fitzroy Range, Argentina - we waited four days for this incredible range to make its appearance and it was 100% worth it. The Patagonia of your dreams. 

Two Brothers, Brazil - there are many wonderful views in Rio de Janeiro  but this one, which is just 40 minutes from the top of Vidigal favela, allows you to see the famous cityscape without the crowds.

Top three cities Mexico City - right up there with any of the big hitters we've visited, the DF has it all. Beautiful light at 2000m, Aztec ruins and a street food scene to rival anywhere in the world makes this a city I'd live in, let alone return to. 

Rio de Janeiro - what a place to start our trip! It's just as amazing as it looks on the telly but it's also full of little secrets. 

Buenos Aires - everyone loves it, and for good reason. Europe meets North America with a healthy dose of Latin vibes in BA. And the steak is unforgettable.

Top three hikes The Santa Cruz, Peru - in a trip that seemed at times to be nothing but hiking, this one reigns supreme. It's cold and it's hard but it's the best one we've ever done. 

The Lost City, Colombia - oh so sweaty. The ruins are really fantastic and the trek itself is as brilliant as it is challenging. 

Cathedral Peak to Refugio Frey, Argentina - one of the best day hikes we've ever done. The cable car ride at the beginning allows you to get straight on with the views over to Tronador and the rock scramble is great fun.

Top three swims Finca Paradaiso, Guatemala - possibly the only place on earth where a hot water waterfall lands in a cold river pool. The setting is gorgeous and we had it to ourselves, making it the best shower we've ever had. 

Dzitnup cenotes, Mexico - it's really scary to swim in a very dark pool in a cave, but you really have to give it a go. There are fish, and they do nibble, but this is a swimming experience we'll never forget. 

Random swimming hole, Uruguay - Pablo the Horse Whisperer took us here on our trusty steeds, Carmen and Dave. I'm not sure what it was called but it's in the Quebrada de los Cuervos National Park. It was so beautiful I went in in my clothes.

Conclusion What. A. Year. This trip has taken us from Rio de Janeiro to Mexico City via some absolutely unforgettable sights. We've had the pleasure of travelling fairly slowly and almost all by land and this meant we could enjoy watching the continent change gradually over borders, mountain ranges and vast plains. It took a while to save up the cash for 54 weeks of non-stop exploring and there's a lot we could have done with that money. I can't think of anything that would have provided us with so many experiences, challenges and discoveries. Most of all, I can't think of anything that would have been more fun.

Over and out... until next time.

Tom and Jess

[teaandjay]

Living Day of the Dead

If all had gone to plan, instead of spending our last month or so in Mexico, our original itinerary would have had us finishing up in Brazil then popping over to Cuba before heading home. But thanks to a handy Cameron-Lloyd wedding-based delay, the trip got flipped upside down, leaving us in Mexico right on time for its incredible Day of the Dead festival.

Although I'd heard of Dia de Muertos, I had no real idea what it was about. In fact, most of my knowledge was taken from the opening credits of the James Bond film Spectre, which came out in 2015, and had Daniel Craig looking a bit skeletal at a fun-looking Mexico City street party and not much else.

It turns out that Day of the Dead has its origins in a pre-Hispanic celebration of life that goes back a couple of thousand years, but was bumped up from its traditional celebration date in the Spring by the colonising Spanish to coincide with halloween. It's a tad confusing to call it Dia de Muertos, too, as although November 2 is the official 'day' it's more a late-October to early-November joy-fest.

Until 007 got in on the act, in Mexico halloween trick or treating was eclipsing the popularity of the more traditional Day of the Dead celebration. Even the whole Bond thing, set in Mexico City, was done for the film - no such parade took place before Spectre came out.

And while its now a big deal in the capital, we were lucky enough to be in the city of Oaxaca - where the event has always been hugely important - and got properly stuck into a few days of activities.

The look

Don't we look horrific? For the princely sum of £8 we were made suitably ghoulish. Day of the Dead is synonymous with the skeleton make up sported by Jess. She's been done up to look like La Catrina, a character in an early 20th century etching, who was then given a full body in this mural by famous Mexican painter, and Mr Frida Kahlo himself, Diego Riviera. 

She's originally supposed to be a Mexican dressed up as a European, which was seen as a tad daft at the time, but has now evolved into one of the icons of the Dia de Muertos celebrations, often wearing a wedding dress and with Frida Kahlo-esque flowers in her hair, too.

The cemeteries

On the night of October 31, the kids still do their trick or treat thing, but most adults head to the graveyards where their relatives are buried. But unlike in the UK, where graveyards are spooky, dark, forboding places, during this celebration at least, they're candlelit places of life and party atmosphere, complete with loads of booze, bands and stacks of people. 

Compared to what I’m used to, Mexicans seem super open about death too - we sat with lovely Pedro and his mum at his grandparent's grave, and he told us all about them and shared his bottle of mezcal with us. It's pretty weird to buy booze to drink in a graveyard, but that’s what you do, and sharing it with strangers is all part of the tradition. 

We called it a night around 3am, but Pedro's annual vigil would take him through to dawn. To share this was one of the most incredible experiences of the whole trip, and something that will stay with us for a very long time.

The altars

It's customary to build altars in homes and businesses devoted to those who've now departed. From what I can gather, the belief is that the souls of those who are dead will journey back to earth, arriving on November 2 - All Souls Day. 

However, it's supposed to be a heck of a trip, so as well as pictures of the deceased, the altars will include stacks of their favourite foods and booze. These are then eaten by living relatives after the day, however this is in the knowledge that the food's soul has been consumed by the dead, so it won't actually have any nutritional value. The altars are everywhere, from petrol stations to restaurants, and are often decorated with Mexican marigolds to help light the way for the returning souls on their visit.

The parades

Having slightly been taken in by the Bond film, I was expecting the parades to be a bigger part of the celebration, but they're more incidental, and often spring up on a fairly ad hoc basis - you just have to be in the right place at the right time, although how you ever know remains a mystery. In fact, that's a fairly strong theme for most of the events - you just have to get used to asking a lot of people where the best party is that particular evening.

November 1 is traditionally the Day of Dead younger people, so parades in town reflect this, with kids getting involved until they pass out from tiredness - a stream of tiny devils, draculas and pumpkins on their way home, fast asleep on their parents, was kind of sweet. 

A day later is adult's day, with more spectacular costumes, bands playing and people running about with small wooden frames on their shoulders that held lit catherine wheels whizzing around their heads. Amazing.

Like Carnaval in Rio, which is on the list for future travels, Day of Dead feels like one of those experiences that has to be done first hand to really believe. The idea that something this much fun could be all based around death arguably makes it even more special. In fact, as part of a trip full of such amazing experiences, Dia de Muertos might be the biggest highlight yet.

Tom

[teaandjay]

That Caribbean feeling

My first look at the Caribbean was on the north coast of Colombia near Santa Marta. That was back in July and since then, we have been working our way up Central America, with the Caribbean never too far away. But something was missing. It was only when I got to Livingston, Guatemala that I realised that my idea of the Caribbean is the one based around the more famous islands, like Jamaica and St Lucia, and not the Caribbean coast of Central America. 

So what's different? I'll be honest - when I thought of the Caribbean, I thought of reggae music, coconuts and jerk chicken. And of course, I thought everyone would speak like Bob Marley. Turns out, I hadn't thought this through at all, and much of the Caribbean coast of Latin America is pretty...well, Latin. 

Livingston is different. Not the prettiest spot on the coast, I'll grant you. But its history makes it quite unique. In the late 18th Century, the British got sick of Black Caribs, who kept rebelling against British rule on the island of St Vincent. The British forcibly removed them to Roatan, an island in the Caribbean just off the coast of Honduras. Here, the Caribs encountered shipwrecked African slaves who had been en route to sugar plantations further up north in the Caribbean. This community became knows as Garifuna and its people now live on the Bay Islands in Honduras, Belize and one little town in Guatemala. Livingston used to be an almost wholly black Garifuna community. It's cut off from the rest of Guatemala except by river so the culture could thrive relatively uninterrupted for a couple of hundred years. 

So when you arrive in Livingston, you immediately hear English with a Caribbean accent rather than Spanish, which was the main language just 20km away in Rio Dulce. Food is different here too, with an amazing fish and coconut dish called Tapado dominating menus. It is distinctly un-Guatemalan and absolutely delicious. The place is not without its challenges. Its remote location has meant that it's prime drug smuggling territory which has made Livingston feel dicey in the past and it's nowhere near as picturesque as the nearby Rio Dulce area. But for me, this little town's unique identity in Guatemala made it a fascinating stop. 

Next up was Belize - in itself an anomaly in this Hispanic region. Belize is English speaking, thanks to the exploits of a whole load of English pirates back in the day, who started out by looting it and ended up loving it.  A tiny blob of English speaking land in a continent of Spanish. Here, the stereotypically Caribbean vibe is even stronger than Livingston. Many of the people are descended from African slaves working elsewhere in British-ruled lands and most people speak Belizean creole. The drink on offer is most definitely rum and you really won't have to look very hard for your jerk chicken fix. The Caribbean of my dreams!    

We could only manage a few days in Belize as it's a bit pricey and we're on a tight schedule now our flights home are booked. But what we saw, we really liked. We spent our time on Caye Caulker, which is a little sand island off the coast of Belize City. It's everything you want a Caribbean island to be - white sand, blue waters and a guy who sells coconuts and banana bread on the main street by yelling "Flavour up!" whenever you walk past. This little taste of what I always imagine to be the Caribbean has certainly whetted my appetite for more. 

Jess

[teaandjay]

#DontSkipElSalvador. Or Honduras

Barring a couple of flights and the odd boat ride, one thing that has made this trip so interesting is the fact that we've travelled over land. As a result, we've been able to see how things change with distance, rather than just dipping in and out, giving us (hopefully) a more cohesive idea of the whole continent. However, it also presents the odd problem, like how do you get through Honduras and El Salvador - countries that lots of travellers see as places getting in the way of their adventures in Nicaragua to the south and Guatemala to the north?

Central America in general has a slightly tricky reputation for safety, and El Salvador and Honduras are often perceived to be at the feistier end of that spectrum. However, we didn't feel like it was right to make a hole in our itinerary and miss what they might have to offer - the trusty Lonely Planet seemed to suggest that we'd be fine as long as we observed the usual precautions and there's even a #DontSkipElSalvador hashtag on social media. Time to see them for ourselves...

Deciding to play it safe, we took a pricier tourist shuttle from Leon in Nicaragua through the bottom of Honduras and up the El Salvadorean coast to El Tunco, a lovely surf town that immediately made us feel comfortable with our decision. We stayed in a small hotel run by a Belgian bloke called Gilles who'd been backpacking here 12 years ago, met an El Salvadorean lady and never left. To be fair, her mac and cheese alone would be enough to stick around for. Gilles also confirmed what we'd begun to suspect from wandering around the town and beach, that things were generally really safe, especially in the tourist towns, and even taking the local chicken buses from place to place would be totally fine.

That's how we made our way northwest, to the Ruta de las Flores, a winding country road through misty hill towns populated by really friendly but bored Salvadoreans kicking their heels as they waited for more tourists to arrive - and they really should, it's lovely. We stayed in a hostel run by a British guy called Darren. He'd been travelling in El Salvador nine years ago, met a girl, stayed...

On to Santa Ana, the biggest town we'd head to in the country. Again, aside from being alert, the place felt friendly and quiet, with a surprisingly lovely old theatre to check out and, again, confirmation that travelling by local bus was totally fine. Naturally, we took this to a fair extreme by taking six different buses and popping into and out of Guatemala on our way to Honduras, but had no bother and some very nice chips en route.

Just over the Honduran border is the charming town of Copan Ruinas, named for the stunning Mayan ruins of the same name that we had almost entirely to ourselves. There's also an excellent brew pub run by a German guy called Thomas. He was travelling in Honduras 21 years ago, met a girl, stayed.

Last up, we headed to Gracias - yep, there's a town called thank you. It used to be the capital of the whole of Spanish-speaking Central America, until they realised it was a bit tricky to get to and moved it to Antigua in Guatemala instead. Today, it's a little short on sights but has a pleasant vibe, a bandstand that's been turned into a decent coffee shop in the main square, and a very nice restaurant that does a mean pizza topped with three types of local mushroom. Travelling in rainy season does have its perks.

We were also the only foreign tourists there, which is a little bit sad given that an entire infrastructure exists in all the places we visited in El Salvador and Honduras to ensure that a nice time is had by people who decide not to skip either country. While we're not acknowledging that there aren't risks in travelling to some areas in both El Salvador and Honduras, and we only went to five places over the course of less than two weeks, there's much to be gained for seeing these places for yourselves. And you never know, you might even meet the future Mr or Mrs Right and stay...

Tom

[teaandjay]

Jess sans frontières

Tom loves borders and I hate them. To his mind, they are exciting crossing points where one amazing country blends into another. The more sketchy they are, the better. His favourite so far was South Africa to Mozambique in a car. It took three hours, cost us 25 bucks in ‘fixer’ fees and I still have no real idea of the processes we went through. For me, they are the most likely places for your trip to go absolutely tits-up. Have the wrong paperwork, be missing a yellow fever certificate, fail to realise that the Bolivian authorities only gave you 30 days on your visa despite the law being 90… all of these things are possible. (Only one of them has happened to me.) Bring in a sniffer dog, and I’ll more or less faint from fear. OF COURSE my bag has been unattended – it’s been on literally a million buses in the past 10 months!

A border survival kit helps to prevent absolute panic. Passport, yellow fever certificate, the relevant tourist card...and a few US dollars rarely hurt when ironing out complications. Generally we haven’t been able to provide proof of onward travel due to you know, backpacking, but a fully refundable bus ticket in Brazil and a very carefully explained itinerary from Costa Rica to Mexico (in Spanish!) have served us well so far.  

On this trip, borders have largely been characterised by being pretty stunning. We crossed between Chile and Argentina five times – each border post being basically in the middle of the Andes. It’s quite unnerving for your first experience of real altitude sickness to be in the queue at immigration. Also note that these borders are FREEZING and Chile uses sniffer dogs to check, not for drugs, but for highly illegal fresh fruit and veggies. I had a panic attack about stock cubes, but the guard assured me they were OK.

The most memorable one though, has been Colombia to Panama. There’s a slight issue here in the form of the Darien Gap – a notorious area of southern Panama which is famous for being almost entirely uncrossable by land. The Pan-American Highway stops in the amazingly named Colombian town of Turbo and doesn’t start again until Yaviza in Panama, around 100km away. This leaves a few options for the sprightly traveller. Take a plane to Panama City (boring), take a sailboat from Cartagena (dreadful) or take a speedboat through the San Blas archipelago, sleeping on idyllic islands (winner)! This is what we did and it was quite the most stunning way to pass from one country to another.

The trip started in Sapzurro which is right at the top of the Gulf of Uraba in Colombia. This is an absolute mission from Cartagena (which is where you wish the trip started from) but actually turned out to be a hidden treasure – even getting there was fun. From Cartagena, we tripped to Tolu on the Caribbean coast, a lovely little town where Colombians go on holiday. Then we did an overnight in unremarkable Necocli and took the boat over the Gulf to Capurgana, a lovely Caribbean town with a sweet beach, great fresh fish and a very relaxed vibe. We stayed a couple of days here, then met our group, headed to Sapzurro by boat, stayed another night there and finally got on our way.

The border is actually pretty tedious but then the real fun starts. There are 360 islands in the San Blas archipelago – almost one for each day of the year. We spent the days on uninhabited paradisical beaches and the nights hosted by the Kuna – the indigenous people who’ve occupied these islands since leaving northern Colombia as the Spanish settled in. 

We slept in hammocks, we ate the most incredible fresh lobster and we drank a lot of rum. What a way to start our Central American adventure.

Jess

[teaandjay]

Guest blog: Found - the Lost City

We are super excited to welcome our travel buddy extraordinaire, Tom Hamilton, to our blog. He promised us a guest post four years ago after our trip to Burma...and he’s finally come good. 

I have had my eye on the Lost City trek, one of the jewels in Colombia's backpacking crown, for many years. As I made final preparations to travel to South America to gatecrash Jess and Tom P's honeymoon for a month, Jess asked me again via WhatsApp if I definitely wanted to do it - absolutely, I replied with vague notions of living out some form of Indiana Jones jungle fantasy without really knowing much about what it's actually like. From the little I knew it was a beautiful walk through lush jungle to a hidden ancient city - what's not to like?

On my arrival in Bogota we spent a joyous fortnight or so gallivanting through the capital itself before heading to the Coffee Region and the superb city of Medellin. We then took a flight up to the city of Santa Marta on the Caribbean coast, which is the jumping off point for the trek. It was on arrival in Santa Marta that the reality of what we were attempting began to dawn on us. As we walked out of the airport, the Caribbean heat and humidity hit us straight away and were a shock compared to the pleasant spring-like weather in the mountains. On arrival at our hostel and at the various transport termini around the city we started to see other foreigners, usually slumped on the floor with a dazed, vacant expression on their faces as if they had just witnessed something utterly horrific and legs covered in so many insect bites they looked like victims of a chemical warfare attack. It became apparent that this disparate group of gringos were 'survivors' who had just finished the trek. With the colour rapidly fading from my face I discovered that my mental image of an Aperol Spritz sundowner at the end of each day in a rustic yet boutique posada followed by a ceviche dinner was perhaps unrealistic. As we booked the trip we were told it would be very hard, very wet and accommodation very basic. We looked at each other reluctantly but decided it seemed like a 'must-do' so paid up and were told to pack a small bag for the 3 night/4 day trek and we would be picked up the following morning at 10:30. That night I did a bit of research regarding Ciudad Perdida (Spanish for Lost City) and found out more about its location deep in the mountainous jungle of the Sierra Nevada mountains and no-one really knows how old it is - it was probably built between the 11th and 14th centuries but some parts may date back to as early as the 7th century. At its peak some 4000 indigenous Tayrona people lived here and the city was never discovered by the Spanish conquistadors who rampaged through the area in the early 1500s although the conquest did succeed in wiping out the Tayrona themselves, with the present day Cogi and Wiwa tribes making up their descendants. The city was not 'found' again until the 1970s and was still sketchy from a security point of view until relatively recently due to FARC guerrilla activity and kidnappings in the area.

Armed with this new-found knowledge and with a trip to the famous lost Inca city of Machu Picchu in 2010 as my only real point of reference, we were picked up the following morning for a bone shaking jeep ride deep into the Sierra Nevada and the menacingly named town of Machete, start point of the trek. The trek The just shy of 50km trek is not technically difficult (with just a few sections of scrambling over rocks) but the difficulty comes from the punishing uphill sections coupled with the heat, humidity and insects. There are also over 20 river crossings to contend with - some are simply crossed by stepping stones while others ensure you hoist your bag over your head as you wade through waist deep rushing water. As we travelled on the cusp of the rainy season, many parts of the path had been reduced to a muddy quagmire, which also slows down progress. I was already paranoid that Tom and Jess's penchant for multi-day Andean hikes would mean I was woefully unprepared physically for the trek - it was certainly physically the toughest thing I've ever done but I was thrilled I managed to hold my own and bagged a solid mid-table finish in our group.

The weather Although a month before the official rainy season itself there was some fairly feisty weather around with some incredible thunder and lightning on display. The worst storm came on Day 2 just as we began the biggest ascent of the whole trek and the heavens opened - I have seldom seen rain like it anywhere in the world. The already muddy path was soon akin to a water park flume and this slowed our progress towards our camp close to the city. The worst thing about this was coupled with the humid weather once the storm passed meant that clothes had absolutely no chance of drying out so you essentially were wet for four days . We christened the plastic bags for our wet clothes as 'Bags of Death' due to the horrific odour coming from them by the time we finished. Accommodation & food The three camps we stayed in were a lot larger than we were all expecting and totally different. There were bunk beds stacked up on top of one another and sheltered from the elements by a corrugated iron roof with a separate dining area with long tables. There were even some pipes for having cold showers - you had to put dirty wet clothes back on but at least you had a few minutes of relief. The food was better than we expected with lots of carbs to keep us going with lashings of the incredible fruit juices that Colombia has in abundance. And who knew what a life saver Gatorade could be? The drink of choice for American college footballers happens to be just the ticket for replenishing your salts and rehydrating you on such a hot trek - so cue various ladies setting up stalls on the trail selling ice cold bottles of it.

The group & guides We were very lucky with our group of 18 people drawn from all over the world and of all physical abilities. We made some great friends and everyone was great at helping everyone along. We trekked with the amazing Guias & Baquianos, who were the first company to take tourists to the city and our head guide Pedro had done the trek over 600 times! They were a wealth of information on all aspects of the trek and were fantastic in ensuring that no one in the group was ever left on their own despite the wide range of abilities. Morale This is always important on a tough hike in difficult conditions. Some people in our group had a strict 'no complaints' policy which was rigorously enforced. Our antidote to any negative thoughts was a healthy mix of gallows humour and the classic games of 'if you could eat/drink anything right now' and the like.

The final leg to the Lost City involves a challenging river crossing followed by the ascent of 1200 narrow and slippery steps. Our reward was beautiful weather and, in the spirit of ranking things, a city more spectacular than Machu Picchu in my opinion. Most gloriously of all, we had the place pretty much to ourselves. There is no doubt this trek is very tough and was the hardest physical thing I have ever done but I am so glad I did it. 

The Lost City itself feels like it is almost future proofed against rampant tourism development by its location - only the most determined will be able to discover its treasures and the huge numbers of coach tourists and the much maligned 'silver surfers' with their need for luxury accommodations and direct airport access will be kept at bay. This will secure the city's isolation and tranquility for future generations and this can only be a good thing. 

[teaandjay]

Taking the right Medellin

The availability of free walking tours in cities in South America is a total bonus as it lets you get up to speed with a place in a matter of hours. The Real City Tour in Medellin, Colombia’s second city, is the best we’ve done, and that’s pretty handy really, as the place is also one of the most fascinating and complex we’ve ever visited.

Medellin’s history seems to start familiarly enough, with the arrival of the Spanish, who did their usual plundering about. Then, in the late 19th century, the railway arrived, allowing for some textbook industrial revolution boom times, especially for the coffee and textile industries.

But things started to get really interesting in the 1970s and 80s when Medellin became the world centre of the cocaine trade. During its height, Pablo Escobar’s Medellin Cartel was coordinating and smuggling about 80 percent of the world’s coke from the area. If he hadn’t been gunned down on a roof top in 1993, he’d be worth about $60billion today.

Naturally, quite a few others fancied a piece of that big-money action, turning Medellin into a total war zone and earning it the title of the world’s most dangerous city into the 1990s. Kill a police officer and Escobar would send you a $1,000 bonus.

When you take a walk around Medellin now, its all the more amazing that its such a nice place to be, and unsurprising that our walking tour guide referred to Escobar as simply ‘The Criminal’ or Voldemort so as locals wouldn’t think his legacy was in any way being venerated.

So how did they turn it all around? A simple ride on the metro gives some clues. Built in the early 1990s, the metro is the only one in Colombia, and cuts straight above and through the valley that Medellin is built in. It allowed people easy, cheap movement from north to south, and let people get into town to work. It made a huge difference, and is totally immaculate as a result.

This was later extended by the MetroCable, a system of cable cars that link poorer areas up in the hills with the transport system, meaning that for about 60p you can get anywhere on the network, making everyone feel included and not isolated.

A few years ago, one of the city’s poorest neighbourhoods, Comuna 13, got its own system of outdoor escalators, again improving access and safety for all.

In recent years, the city’s mayors have invested in public spaces like the one below that used to be a brothel and general den of iniquity. Medellin now has loads of nicely thought-out parks, and education has been massively prioritised, with a big drive to build libraries in lots of neighbourhoods and the improvement of healthcare, which is now the best in the country.

Medellin is a city with a unique history, and is a place that has turned itself around very quickly, wiping away the memory of what happened before – the willingness to forget is a trait that is apparently quite Colombian, according to our guide.

However, in response to this, our walking tour had a really nicely thought-out end in Plaza San Antonio, built in the city centre in the 1990s as part of the city’s early attempts at cleaning up its act.

The square used to feature a big bronze bird sculpture, made by local artist Fernando Botero. In 1995, a bomb was left in a backpack under the sculpture. When it exploded, 21 people were killed and over 200 injured at the music festival taking place in the square.

The mayor immediately ordered that the remains of the sculpture be removed. However, the artist called him, insisting that the sculpture should remain as a monument to the bad times. The mayor agreed, and Botero built a new bird, with the two sculptures together now called the Pajeros de Paz, or birds of peace. Fascinating Medellin certainly is.

Tom

[teaandjay]

Hidden treasures: The southern Colombian loop

These days, Colombia is so firmly on the gringo trail that pretty much everyone we’ve met going the ‘other way’ from us has promised it will be the highlight of our trip. Caribbean beaches, beautiful colonial Cartagena and the jungle hike to Ciudad Perdida have been raved about consistently. What we didn’t know much about though, is the south of the country. What we have found is an absolute gem of a place, with plenty to fill a couple of weeks if you happen to have them spare.

Archaeological wonders

The main tourist draws of this region are archaeological sites. Tierradentro and San Agustin both boast incredible burial sites from civilisations which flourished around 700 AD. No one knows who these people were, what they called themselves, what made them tick and what ultimately finished them off. All we know is they cared an awful lot about how they buried the remains of their loved ones. San Agustin offers stacks of carved figures which seem to guard the entrances to the tombs. Tierradentro provides Indiana Jones style adventure as you hike from tomb to tomb, climbing down the steep steps to each burial chamber and shining your torch onto ancient cave paintings. We had never heard of either civilisation before coming here, which makes them seem all the more adventurous to explore.

Activities

But it’s not just well-old stones that can get your motor running in these parts. There’s the lovely colonial town of Popayan which is famous for totally delicious potato filled mini empanadas. There’s the exciting city of Cali, which is best known for salsa dancing as well as providing the lovely San Antonio neighbourhood – great for afternoon wanderings and excellent coffee. We had a fun time floating down the river in giant rubber rings in the jungle village of San Cipriano and we also loved hiking to the top of an 80m waterfall at Mocoa’s El Fin del Mundo. Plenty to keep you occupied.

Getting around

Although this area isn’t tourist free, it certainly feels a little less on the beaten track than we are expecting the north to be. This has its charms for sure, but you need to be up for a few rough and ready roads. Our particular favourite is the fantastically named ‘Trampoline of Death’ which runs from Pasto to Mocoa, down in the jungle. It is bouncy, high, narrow and wet, but the most striking thing is the amazing scenery.

Exciting roads tend to mean exciting modes of transport and we have been enjoying riding around in tiny vans, pick up trucks and on motorbikes. Best of all is the ‘Brujita’ to San Cipriano. When the railway line that ran through San Cipriano became disused, the community fashioned these ‘little wizards’ from a plank of wood, a motorbike and a positive mental attitude. They are the most fun way to get to the jungle.

Places to stay

You know how I said you’d better be up for rough and ready roads? The same goes for accommodation. Rural areas with few tourists mean pretty basic rooms, like the one in Mocoa, which we had to hike to, through the jungle, at night and in the pouring rain. When we got there, we found no hot water and no windows in the wooden shack we were to call home. It ended up being super. San Cipriano may be fun to get to, but the available rooms are less exciting. The first one we looked at made prison cells seem luxurious. The one we ended up in (the most expensive in town)! had a valley-shaped bed and a cold water pipe posing as a shower. All this was forgiven though, when we arrived at Casa de Nelly in San Agustin – quite the nicest hostel we have stayed in in South America. Lovely rooms, comfy beds, a most beautiful garden setting, an open fire and home cooked food every night.

Our time in Southern Colombia has been fantastic. This is partly because the countryside is beautiful and there is such a variety of things to do here. But it’s also been great because we didn’t know what to expect from it, so every day has felt like a new adventure and a new discovery. Highly recommended.

Jess

[teaandjay]

Ecuadorable

It’s really quite convenient when the name of the country you’ve just visited can be tortured into a useful blog title pun. But we really have just spent a lovely couple of weeks in Ecuador and thought we’d share a little of what we saw.

Although timekeeping on a big trip isn’t always that essential unless you’ve got friends to meet, South America has proved more than a little tricky on that score as the countries are just so HUGE. For example, Peru, the stop before Ecuador, is the size of France and Spain combined, so it takes time to get around. By contrast, Ecuador is a little bigger than the UK, so a speedy fortnight allowed us to see plenty of pretty cool stuff:

Cuenca

Travelling around South America, it’s hard not to be just a little impressed by the impact that the Spanish had when they popped over the Atlantic to do some good old fashioned pillaging 500 years ago. There are church-heavy towns everywhere, so it’s hard to truly stand out, but colonial Cuenca managed it. When we were there, some sort of festival honouring what could only be the patron saint of diabetes was taking place, with more sweet stalls lining the main square than could really have been necessary. Also, turns out that Cuenca is a centre for making Panama hats – pub quiz fans will know they’re an Ecuadorian thing, and only got the name Panama hat because that’s where they were shipped from, and the chaps digging the Panama canal wore them to work.

Baños

A town that’s styled itself as an adventure sports capital, albeit with quite nicely sedate PG-rated activities, Baños proved an excellent stop for a couple of days. 

One was spent on slightly rickety hire bikes wobbling down the road out of town. Along the way were waterfalls, which can be viewed from above by taking a ride on a tarabita, a little cage suspended from a zipline and powered by a pick-up truck engine. 

Day two was spent hiking up the lower slopes of the nearby volcano to reach the town’s treehouse, which has a big swing you can use to get a rather unique view of the valley below.

The Quilotoa Loop

Another country, another multi-day hike. However, instead of sleeping under the dreaded canvas, the loop’s two nights are spent in cozy hostels. The first of which, Lulu Llamas, had a spa, which was just about the perfect way to wind down after the first day’s trek. 

Winding its way from village to village, the trek has a pretty relaxed feel when compared to dragging ourselves up the Andes, but the hike’s big finish is no less special. 

Lake Quilotoa is a rainwater-filled crater of an extinct volcano, and is right up there with the nicest lakes we’ve seen all trip, made all the better by the fact we hiked up there with some of the nicest folks we’ve met in South America too.  

Quito

Ecuador’s capital is the sort of place where neither of us had any idea whatsoever of what to expect. Turns out, it’s rather lovely. Sandwiched in a steep-sided valley Quito is 60km long but only 10km wide, so it either takes ages or no time at all to get where you want to go. Its old town is beautiful, and we feel like we’re properly clued in to its charms thanks to a 4.5-hour walking tour that left no place unexplored. Quito is also home to a fab central market, where we ate platefuls of llapingachos – fried potato and cheese mash patties, accompanied by avo, salad and tasty meat. 

It’s also where the gallery and self-designed former home of Oswaldo Guayasamin is located. He’s  a top indigenous Ecuadorian artist whose work was inspired by Picasso. Genuinely moving stuff, and well worth checking out.

Mindo

Heading further north, we hit the cloud forest of Mindo. Sounding like something out of Star Wars, it’s actually a tiny town set deep in the middle of nowhere really. While we didn’t see any Ewoks, the main draw for us was hummingbirds. 

Our hostel was set in the woods, and the garden was lined with feeders which at least three different species of hummingbirds buzzed around each evening. We even went on a proper birdwatching tour, as you do, and met some slightly odd Texans who spend their days travelling the world taking pictures of rare birds. Each to their own…

Otavalo

Last stop before heading for the border, Otavalo is famous for having South America’s biggest handicraft market. That means it’s lined with endless stalls of tat, from ponchos to pendants; rugs to weird, knitted face mask balaclava things and much more besides. However, I shall remember it for a pretty basic Mexican restaurant called Taco Bello – and run by a nice guy who used for work for the Taco Bell fast food chain. Best taco I’ve ever eaten, hands down (unsurprisingly no pics exist as I ate them all too fast). Mexico has some big shoes to fill in a couple of months time.

Ecuador’s manageable size means it’s easy to see lots of different places in a much shorter time than with some of its oversized neighbours. It perhaps doesn’t have the equivalent showstopping sights of Peru et al nearby, but what it does offer is just very pleasant, and a nice breather before we tackle Colombia up next.

Tom

[teaandjay]

For better, for worse. Should you go backpacking for your honeymoon?

This little South America jaunt isn’t just a year off work, you know. It’s actually our honeymoon, having finally decided to tie the knot in early 2016. The average cost of a wedding in the UK is probably something completely astronomical by now, but when we last looked, it was a mere £24k, which isn’t too outrageous at all, right? We simply could not justify spending that sort of money on one day. So we decided to spend that amount (mas o menos) on a year’s travelling instead.

But whilst it might be a stack of money to lavish on a single day, spread out over 12 long months, you end up with quite a modest daily budget. And a modest budget isn’t really what springs to mind when you think of a honeymoon. It’s supposed to be all matching fluffy robes, butlers with cocktails on demand and a private beach. So is it a good idea to spend your first throes of married life roughing it in South America? Here are a few things to consider before you head off into the sunset.

The cons:

1. Dorm rooms. Bunk beds, people reading by the light of head-torches, clubbers coming in at 3 a.m. and trekkers getting up to leave at 5. This isn’t how you imagined your honeymoon.

2. Sickness. Like it or not, you are highly unlikely to survive an extended backpacking trip without getting sick. And usually, that means tummy upsets, which are horrible, unattractive and made worse by point one. Do yourself a favour and splash out on a private room (with a private bathroom). You won’t regret it and the people left in the dorm will be grateful.

3. Travelling clothes. You don’t really want to carry more than 15kgs on your back and this means you need to be very selective with the clothes you bring. By six months in, everything will be grubby, out of shape and boring. And a fleece was never really that attractive, was it?

4. Grim activities. This trip has seen us do more camping than we would ever choose, a lot of long bus rides and a lot of hiking. Whether you like these things or not, they don’t leave you looking or feeling fresh. Five days without a shower does not a romantic evening make.

5. NO TREATS. Yes, I know going on holiday for a year is a massive treat. But when you’re backpacking, there are no free chocolates on your pillow, no amazing bedrooms with bathtubs in the middle and no free upgrades on planes. It’s more like “Get on bus. Here’s your bunk bed. There is no bathroom.”

The pros:

1. Amazing places to sleep. Not five star hotels or luxury beach bungalows, but that doesn’t mean there are no incredible places to spend the night. We have slept in jungle tree houses, shacks right on the beach and under the most starry skies we have ever seen.

2. Healthy faces! Despite the inevitable occasional illness, travelling actually makes people look great. Very little stress, lots of exercise and plenty of sun makes your other half look happier and healthier than ever before. Lovely.

3. Travelling clothes. If you still fancy him in a fleece and hiking trousers, you’ll always fancy him.

4. Romantic activities. We have enjoyed hot pools in scenic valleys, spas in mountain lodges and dinner by the light of a single candle in the middle of the Amazonian jungle. We have also been lucky enough to see some of the most exciting and beautiful sights in the world. Seeing them together has been the icing on the cake.

5. Getting used to it. Travelling is a series of highs and lows. Sometimes you can’t believe how lucky you are to be somewhere amazing and other times you can’t believe you’re stuck in a rubbish border town with nothing to do and no money to throw at it. But really, that’s quite similar to ‘real life.’ If you can backpack together without wanting to hurl each other off a cliff, the chances are, you can give the rest of your married life a good college try.

Jess

[teaandjay]

Peru pips Patagonia

Before we jumped on the plane to Rio, we’d already decided that hiking in Patagonia was an absolute must-do. The the multi-day W trek in Chile and day hikes aplenty from El Chalten in Argentina were all factored into the budget, and the reality of seeing the famous Torres, powered by our own two feet, proved to be pretty stunning, even if we did have to camp along the way (bleugh). Add in the superb Refugio Frey hike in Bariloche, and the slog up Cerro Guanaco all the way down in Ushuaia, and Patagonia’s outdoorsy charms proved as impressive as its reputation.

However, the thing about doing a big trip in a place you know little about is there’s always the possibility that there’s something even better waiting for you to discover. And that’s exactly what we’ve just found having spent the last week in the Cordillera Blanca mountains in the middle of Peru.

While Patagonia has remoteness on its side, that does mean that the people you meet are essentially there solely for the hike and the sights – the location is of little importance. In this part of Peru, you kick off in the town of Huaraz, which is full of people with plenty of high altitude attitude.

As we’d been down in Lima for a week or so, we chose the Laguna 69 day hike to reacclimatise to higher climes – although there were stacks more to opt for. The route meant cranking slowly but surely up to the turquoise water of the lake at 4600 metres, and while the weather wasn’t perfect, the sight of the laguna was quite the reward and a good sign of things to come.

Said thing was the Santa Cruz trek, a four-day 50km route that offers a ‘best-of’ look at the Cordillera Blanca mountain range. Even the bus ride to get to the start point gives most of Patagonia a gentle kicking, with superb views of Peru’s highest mountain, the twin 6768m peaks of Huascaran.

Four hours of trekking led us up through the valley, past quinoa and guinea pig farms to our first camp site… sometimes you’ve just got to deal with a night or two under canvas. Apparently.

Day two was the tough one, taking us (breathlessly) up and over the Punta Union pass at 4760 metres – the highest point we’ve trekked at as yet. Picnicing at the top of the pass, watching every walker’s amazed reaction to the view down the valley framed by spiky mountains aplenty was one of the most spectacular things we’ve ever done.

The penultimate day involved us taking the option to add three hours for another slow and steady crank uphill to Laguna Arhuaycocha. 

Matching Laguna 69 for drama, then adding a huge, creaking glacier into the mix made the extra hike worth it, with views back to Nevado Artesonraju (which may or may not have inspired at least part of the Paramount Pictures logo) the icing on the cake.

The hike finishes with a morning of steep descending, in time for a dip in some natural hot springs and then the bus back to Huaraz that gives you time to reflect on the awesomeness of what you’ve just seen (Am I selling it enough?!).

More accessible, more interesting, more spectacular, not to mention much, much cheaper than Patagonia, the hiking in Peru has truly bowled us over. And while we feel like our time in Southern Chile and Argentina was well spent and well worth it, a return trip seems a little hard to justify, while the possibility of the 10-day, 115km Huayhuash Circuit just south of the Santa Cruz seems pretty tempting. The idea of camping that many nights means it must be truly special indeed.

Tom

[teaandjay]

Bolivin’ it up

We keep coming back to the fact that going travelling constantly challenges the expectations you might have of a place, of its people, its cities, its food and just about everything else.

Entering Bolivia though, we both were a bit of a blank slate. On a global scale, the country is rather overshadowed by heavyweights like Chile, Brazil and Argentina muscling in from either side, both literally and figuratively. As a result, we’ve had a go at boiling down the brilliant time we’ve just had in Bolivia now that we have a bit more of a handle on what it’s all about. 

See-sawing altitude and contrasting landscapes

The one thing I did know about Bolivia is that it’s high – La Paz is about 3600m, and Potosi claims to be the highest city in the world at just under 4100m. This means you spend quite a lot of time feeling like you’ve been fast-forwarded to your late 80s. Walking makes you quite out of breath, and you quickly come to see an upward flight of stairs as your sworn enemy. The nights are also blistering cold, while the height means the suns rays blister you in other ways…

However, the high bits also give superb views and otherworldly landscapes, like at Lake Titicaca and in La Paz itself, all rendered in an amazing crystal-clear light the lack of atmosphere provides.

The high stuff also only accounts for around 35 percent of the country. Closer to Bolivia’s centre, around Cochabamba and out towards Santa Cruz in the east, is all mellow weather, rolling hills and farmland, and an altitude that means you don’t feel like you’ve smoked 50-a-day since birth. The drop in height all happens so fast too, with my bike trip down the death road dropping me from the chill of 5 degrees at 4700m at the top near La Paz, to 20+ degrees in tropical Coroico at 1500m, in a matter of hours.

And of course further north and east is Bolivia’s slice of the Amazon basin, at a whole 300m above sea level, giving access to the most incredible jungle that might well have been my favourite bit of all. Being up close with mahogany trees, howler monkeys and caymans, and feeling the sort of humidity that makes you take a shower because you actually feel drier when you’re in it, is an experience like no other.

Tom

Underrated food

“Is there even any good food in Bolivia?” someone asked me when I mentioned we were heading to Cochambamba for the food. Well, yes, there is. You just need to know what you’re looking for. On the whole, food here is basic, not gourmet. But that’s no bad thing.

Many Bolivians eat lunch on the move to save travel time heading home and back out to work. This generally means eating at one of the many ‘Almuerzo’ spots found in every town. Usually the front room of someone’s home, this is a basic eat but well worth it. ‘The Lady’ (a generic term for a female who provides food) will put a chalkboard outside telling you what’s cooking and if you like it, you dive in.

Almuerzo will always involve soup as a first course. And Bolivians know their soup. Our favourites were sopa de mani (literally peanut soup, but actually from a chickpea base) and sopa de arroz (chicken broth with rice, veggies and usually a potato thrown in). Following this will be some variation on meat or fish with rice. These range from the simple but well flavoured chuletas (chops) to the freshest fish from Lake Titicaca right through to full on stews. Chicken and rice is the famous staple of Bolivia and whilst you’ll usually see it as an almuerzo option, it’s rarely your only choice. Almuerzo will generally set you back about £1 and is basically the reason we still have money left to travel. Thank you, Bolivia.

At the other end of the scale from your basic almuerzo joint is Gustu – set up by the co-founder of Noma, a Scandinavian restaurant regarded as the best in the world. Gustu is run by a Scandinavian team (our waiter is possibly the tallest, blondest man in Bolivia) but focuses on Bolivian produce and the upskilling of local young people in La Paz. The menu takes in all the regions of Bolivia, from the high altitudes of Lake Titicaca trout to the tropical Amazonian fish stews of the jungle region. Llama tartare, anyone? If this is the future of Bolivian food, the future is bright indeed.  

Eclectic transport

Everybody knows about Bolivia’s “Death Road” which is now largely unused by mainstream transport because they did the sensible thing and built a new route from La Paz to Coroico. Sadly, Bolivia still holds this unenvied title – the route to Chulumani is now the world’s most dangerous road. When people think of Bolivia, they often think of one track, unsealed roads, clinging to the sides of mountains with huge drops on one side. This is largely accurate. The landscape of the country means that getting around is just more difficult than in other countries. Added to the juxtaposition of jungle and Andes is the fact that Bolivia is much poorer than its neighbours and simply doesn’t have the cash to improve everything at once. Buses are generally (but not always) basic machines with noisy engines, no temperature controls, questionable suspension and no bathrooms.

Although not the most dangerous, the country’s most notorious route (now that the Death Road is a tourist attraction for silly backpackers on bikes) is La Paz to Rurrenabaque. This route takes you from the high Andes capital to the jungle lowlands. Both of these stops are firmly on the backpacker trail but most people fly due to horror stories about the route. I don’t doubt it can be hell on earth, but we did it twice because the money we saved meant we could do both jungle and pampas tours when we eventually got to Rurrenabaque. It was bumpy and I refused to look at the drop, but this is not, by any stretch of the imagination, the worst bus journey I’ve ever done. And it’s the way the vast majority of Bolivians get around their own country, so it seemed a wasted opportunity not to get involved.

So what’s so great about Bolivia? There are lots of things, from the amazing landscapes to the tasty food and friendly people. But on the route we’ve been taking, it was maybe just the fact that it was the first place we really felt like we were ‘travelling.’ Everything here is just that little bit more removed from what we’re used to and that lights up that little adventurous flame we’ve been carrying around.

Jess

[teaandjay]

Jungle sense

Recently we stayed in a little town in the Bolivian Amazon basin called Rurrenabaque, from which you can take tours into the jungle in Madidi National Park. We spent three days with a guide called Diego, wandering around under the great canopy of leaves, spotting jaguar tracks, wild pigs, amazing parrots and all manner of creepy crawlies. But it’s not just what you can spot that makes spending time in the jungle something special. All the senses are in for an experience.

As soon as you leave the boat that takes you up the Beni and then Tuiche rivers, you notice a change in atmosphere. As you enter into the thick jungle you’re immediately shaded from the sun. And yet things have suddenly got hotter. Much hotter. The short walk to the jungle camp leaves you soaked in sweat before you’ve really begun. A sign of things to come. As time rolls on, you start to realise that nothing will ever be dry until you leave. Clothes become soaked through with a mixture of humidity, rain (when it comes) and sweat – best not to try and work out the exact ratio. You take a ‘jungle shower’ which is delightful while you’re in it, but drying off or indeed cooling off is not on the menu.

You should be careful as to what you touch in the jungle as not everything is your friend. There are spiders here which can paralyse you (but don’t fret – it’s only temporary!) and ants which can leave you feverish and in agony. On our second night of camping (read: sleeping on the jungle floor under a net) I felt something hefty touch my side. Completely disorientated, I assumed I was about to be eaten by a jaguar. Turns out it was just Tom and I’d forgotten which way was up.

The sounds of the jungle are perhaps the most exciting. The forest is dense so you’re not actually that likely to spot hundreds of animals, but that doesn’t mean they’re not there. At all times you can hear insects galore and birds of all types screeching away. Every so often you can hear something that sounds like distant drumming – this is in fact herds of wild pigs who grunt, stomp and generally make a ruckus. In the mornings you get my personal favourite – the unbelievable row of the howler monkey. I had always assumed the ‘howl’ was like a screech but it’s actually more like Tibetan throat singing crossed with a jet engine. And very late at night, having heard the ‘demo’ from Diego, I’m pretty sure I heard the low breathy pant of a jaguar. This cannot be ratified as Diego is so comfortable in the jungle that he was fast asleep, but I know what I heard.

It wouldn’t be a blog by me without some mention of food. The real tastes of the jungle are for the strong-stomached only. There are edible termites, worms that live inside fruits and countless plants that you can eat – so long as you know what you’re looking for. One papaya is perfectly good to eat and even aids digestion. Another will cause your death by internal bleeding of the liver. Best to avoid papaya altogether. It’s not even nice. If you really want to, you can take the ‘survivor’ tour, in which you’re given a guide, a machete and a mosquito net and left to your own devices. But we are mere tourists so we were treated to amazing food by the in-jungle chef, Jeremy. How he creates such amazing spreads with such limited ingredients is a mystery. But it was fun to hear him radioing back to Rurrenabaque and putting his orders in for the next boat up the river.

Your nose is also in for some interesting times. The jungle itself smells like a lovely mixture of warm earth, greenery and rain. As soon as you get near the floor though, you can smell the huge amount of rotting and decomposing that’s going on. This is an environment which recreates itself by the speed of the mulching on the jungle floor. Then there’s the unexpected smell of the wild pigs. We were lucky enough to be more or less in the middle of two pig stampedes and when they’re scared, they release a stench, much like a skunk does. And believe me, it would put off the keenest of predators. The last and most distressing thing you can smell of course, is yourself. Three days of insect repellent, sweat, mud and dirty clothes make you less than an attractive mate. If only it could put off the mosquitoes…

Jess

[teaandjay]

Salar de Uyuni: Bolivia’s big backpacker standard

South America is packed with stunning sights, but there are a few big-hitting backpacker standards that simply can’t be missed. So far, we’ve been lucky enough to hike what feels like all of Patagonia, seen water pour endlessly from Iguazu falls, and have Machu Picchu waiting for us in Peru. In between, Bolivia’s must-see attraction is the spectacular three-day off road tour that takes you up and over the Andes and across the Salar de Uyuni salt flat, and now sits comfortably near the top of the list of mind blowing experiences we’ve had so far.

The tour is famous for the photos you take on the salt flat, using the vast expanse of nothingness to take fun pictures that make it look like you’re walking a hiking-boot tightrope or being eaten by a toy dinosaur.

But in all honesty, the pictures are arguably the least interesting element of a road trip that takes your breath away just 10 minutes after it starts when you’re greeted by a dramatic lagoon backed by extinct volcanoes.

A little further on, some of the geothermal activity hinted at in the landscape literally bubbles to the surface, with a stop for a dip at a spectacularly located hot spring. After piling back in the car for more kilometres, a stop at a geyser field, where the ground seemed to be full of natural kettles boiling eggy, steamy mud, added to the otherworldly feel.

In addition to the landscape taking your breath away, we spent the first night at 4800 metres, the highest place we’ve ever slept(ish). Even though the altitude makes the air feel like its deliberately, sneakily avoiding being pulled into your body, its an experience that fits with the moonscape outside the door. No wonder an animal as delightfully odd as the llama has evolved to live comfortably up here.

Back in the car, we climbed up over 5000 metres, driving through a landscape you’d expect to see a lunar rover or astronaut bouncing through, rather than a bunch of backpackers in an old Toyota. Stones whipped by the wind into shapes like trees looked like a Dali painting made real..

Lagoons that are home to hundreds of flamingoes make it totally worth the tricky time sleeping, compounded by the early morning of day three where we headed to the salt flat at 5am. 

As we’re here at the end of rainy season, we were a bit concerned that the salt wouldn’t be passable. Visiting the whole flat was curtailed slightly, but we totally won out because the area the water had flooded turned the salt into a mirror for one of the most amazing sunrises we’ve ever seen.

A final bit of fun with perspective photos and long drive across the rest of the salt flat rounded out a tour that’s firmly on the backpacker trail but for very good reason. It might be pretty tough on your lungs, but its worth every single second you spend on the road.

Tom

[teaandjay]

What’s for tea?

Travelling in Uruguay, Argentina and Chile is expensive, and that means you have to find ways to keep your budget slim while still having as awesome a time as possible. One of the easiest ways to do this is to cook for yourselves. Cue endless pasta and crap sauce out of a packet, right? This seems to be the staple food of backpackers. I have actually seen someone from France (FRANCE!) eating a plate of dry penne with half a tin of tuna. Guys, it doesn’t have to be this way.

There are challenges involved, of course. Hostel kitchens can be pretty terrible. There are no decent pans and the only sharp knife you’ll find is on your penknife. Everyone is trying to cook so you have to be quick – backpackers will have no truck with someone trying to reduce their bolognese for two hours to develop flavour. You have no store cupboard ingredients and this is the bit we found really hard at the beginning. But that doesn’t mean eating can’t be fun. Let’s face it, if it did, I would have packed up and gone home long ago.

We’ve cooked our way round South America for nearly five months now and here’s what we’ve learned.

1. Do it like a local

Generally speaking, local people are buying stuff that is both nice and affordable. This tends to be the food that comes from the area you’re in. Seeking out quality cheese in an Argentinian supermarket is a thankless task – it will end in disappointment and bankruptcy. If steak is cheaper than chicken – eat steak! This will also result in hilarious encounters at the butcher’s counter while you try to explain which cut you’re after. The action for ‘chicken wing’ comes in handy – both for getting your dinner and making friends with locals.

2. Stock cubes are your best friend

We’ve known this for some time of course. But these little bad boys have never come into their own like they do when you’re travelling and you’re without your usual store cupboard. God knows what they put in there, but they basically make everything taste better. There was an advert a while ago back home with a Michelin starred chef claiming that he rubs stock cubes into chicken before cooking. I scoffed at him then, but boy, has he saved our dinner a few times since we’ve been away. Chicken salad will never be the same again.

3. There’s more to life than pasta

It’s useful, tasty and cheap, but that doesn’t mean you have to eat it everyday. There are plenty of options for making something a bit more exciting. Polenta has been a revelation since we’ve been away – just as cheap, even faster to cook in a hostel kitchen and equally delicious. We’ve also been having fun with lentil and rice casseroles, pumpkin curries, cous cous salads and (you guessed it) steak with garlic and onion potatoes. None of these things take longer than pasta.

4. Plagiarise

Everyone is in the same boat, so when you see someone cooking something that looks yummier than yours, find out what and how. This is how Pablo’s polenta was born, and we ruthlessly stole the recipe for rice and lentil stew from some friendly Aussies. It also raises the chances of someone offering to cook for you, which is a total win.

5. Treat yourself

After all that effort and money saving, it’s time to treat yourself to a nice meal out. We are now in Bolivia, where it’s cheaper to eat out than in, so I shall be hanging up my pinny for the next month and seeing what ideas a new country can provide.

Jess

[teaandjay]

Big Smokes

It’s hard not to be blown away when you get to the crater of an active volcano, and look straight down one of earth’s exhaust pipes. Smoke and steam hisses and burps at you from a small hole about 15 metres below, making a gas mask a pretty useful piece of kit for taking the edge off the sulphury air, while a longer wait is rewarded by squirts of glowing red lava fizzing into the sky.

The climb up Villarica volcano in Chile was exceptional, but there was something about the combination of slippery ice, crunchy rocks, steep slopes and baking sun that made the day-long hike feel just about the toughest of our whole Patagonian adventure. The cumulative effect of nearly two months of long walks, remoteness and general outdoorsy ruggedness had left us pretty tired and craving the buzz of a big city again.

Chile’s capital, Santiago, felt like just what we’d been missing. A city of about seven million people, Santiago’s main sights are crammed in together in a relatively small area, making it easy to stroll between significant historical, architectural and artsy highlights, with the odd tasty coffee or completo italiano (hotdog with avocado, tomato and mayo so it looks like the Italian flag) mixed in. 

Add in the fact that our hostel was located just behind a street of bars, making an evening michelada or two a doddle, and we were soon feeling pretty well refreshed.

A 90-minute bus ride west to the coast brought us to Valparaíso – the same time it takes to perfect the pronunciation of the city’s name (‘bal-para-EE-soh’) with its tricky soft V sound and the í that looks like it’s been hit by a strong wind.

Every single one of its 300,000 residents seemed to be a dab hand with a can of spray paint, with the street art scene giving a really interesting counterpoint to the unspoilt nature we’d been immersed in further south, particularly when viewed from a creaky, old-school funicular.

Wine tasting in Mendoza was up next, requiring a spectacular bus trip back over the Andes and a lofty border crossing to return to Argentina. Rather than being full of wineries close by, Mendoza is the more functional admin centre for the wine industry, necessitating trips out to Maipú on a couple of days to try tasty Malbecs, Chardonnays and Cab Sauvs. 

The city’s wine harvest festival was in full swing when we arrived, including a weird beauty pageant parade of all the candidates from what essentially seemed to be a Miss Wine contest. Fittingly Miss Maipú took the crown this year.

Last up in our city break sector was Cordoba, Argentina’s second largest, and one that’s crammed full of students who had all just arrived to start a new academic year. Another place rich with art, architecture, and history, complemented by being home to a belter of a sausage sandwich called a choripan that’s so tasty we’d eaten them before we had chance to take a picture, Cordoba’s streets have been lively at just about every hour of the day.

Patagonia’s sights were a total treat to behold, even if they were, at times, tricky to reach. The contrast with the cities that have followed has only enhanced the feeling of just how spectacular they are, and how, for me at least, the countryside is the place to visit, while the cosmopolitan, vibrant, convenient city is where is really at.

Tom

[teaandjay]

Cool stuff we’ve seen: The Great Glacier Ranking

So it turns out that South America is full of ice! Since we started heading south from Puerto Montt in Chile we’ve seen more or less nothing else – the Southern Patagonian Ice Field has its tendrils in every valley and mountain range. I’d never heard of it but it’s actually the largest mass of ice in the southern hemisphere (barring Antarctica) and it runs down the Chile-Argentina border, more or less the length of Patagonia. One of the most obvious features of an ice field is glaciers and we have seen plenty. There’s something mesmerising about laying eyes on such an enormous mass of ice. But it’s not enough just to appreciate things. All things must be ranked, even glaciers. So here’s my top five glaciers in Patagonia.

In freezing fifth: Glaciar Piedras Blancas, Parque National Los Glaciares (Norte), Argentina

None of these absolute monsters should be in last place, but we must rank. Piedras Blancas loses out to a viewpoint just to the left, which is the absolutely magnificent view of the Laguna de los Tres at the foot of the Fitzroy Range. But the glacier is actually extremely beautiful and shines wonderfully blue in the sunlight. It’s well worth a detour from the popular Fitzroy viewpoint hike.

Good for: A really flat trail to the viewpoint after the lung-buster that it is the Laguna de los Tres hike.

In frigid fourth: Glaciar Grande, Parque National Los Glaciares (Norte), Argentina

This one scores highly for its fantastic situation. It sneaks down the side of a mountain to meet Laguna Torre and is really easily viewable from the Laguna Torre hike. We didn’t get it, but in good weather, you can see the full Torre Range from here too.

Good for: Unintentionally getting the perfect photo opportunity to celebrate your first wedding anniversary.

In thaw-defying third: Valle Frances Mirador, Parque National Torres del Paine, Chile

Not the biggest glacier we have seen, but the setting is outrageously beautiful. I love the fact that the powers that be feel they need to tell you that this is a Mirador (viewpoint) as if you might not have noticed that it’s worth having a gander. This one has it all – the snow, the river flowing out of the base, the mountains...

Good for: Occasional avalanches that echo around the valley

In shivering second: Glaciar Grey, Parque National Torres del Paine, Chile

This is a real heart-stopper. We arrived on day one of the W trek and it’s a moment when you suddenly realise why you’re hiking for five days with a tent on your back. There’s a real sense of serenity here, which belies the enormous bulk and power of the glacier itself. A must-see.

Good for: Rewarding day one’s tired legs.

And calving its way into first place: Glaciar Perito Moreno, Parque National Los Glaciares (Sur), Argentina

It’s the obvious pick (for those who know their glaciers) but for good reason. This bad boy is absolutely awe-inspiring. It’s not just the visuals that will have you open-mouthed – the glacier advances at around 2m per day and this means its calves like crazy into the waiting waters of Lago Argentino. The noise is terrifying and wonderful at the same time.

Good for: Whiling away an afternoon watching the face of the glacier change as it crashes into the lake.

Jess