Culture

Via a friend of a friend’s school friend’s younger sister - Will, Tom and I got ourselves invited to a Peruvian house party. Our contact had just graduated from university and was attending a shindig at one of her fellow graduates house to celebrate. All we knew was that we had to meet outside the casino at 8:30pm and she would collect us from there.

The reason for the casino being our rendezvous point was that it was one of the few places we knew the location of. On our first night in Lima, after having a quick bite to eat in the local Plaza, we walked past the casino and I convinced the others that the worst possible outcome of gambling the taxi fair on roulette would be that we had to walk home and get some much needed exercise. A wonderful bit of propaganda from myself later and we were through the door and at the table. Will and Tom played it safe and went Red but being of a more adventurous persuasion I opted to slam everything on 18. The Gods must have been looking favourably upon me that night as the lovely little ball plopped itself down in 18 and made me a happy man as well as a small fortune. I then invested the winnings wisely in a spot of blackjack and walked away 876 times richer than when I walked in. The only problem with this windfall was, all the money is in Peruvian Soles and it made almost no sense at all for me to try and exchange it into Pounds as I’d lose so much through commission. So I came to the sensible conclusion that I’d act as Tom’s personal cash machine and with the remainder just live the rock and roll life style for the remainder of the trip.

In my opinion, there's nothing ruder than attending a house party under equipped with alcohol meaning you have to swan around in the kitchen hoping no bodies looking when you serve yourself a generous tot of rum into your orange juice. Tom and Will felt the same way so between us we acquired 2 x 1lt bottles of Fanta (80p), 1 x 1lt bottle of soda water (7p) and 2 x 1lt bottles of Vokyonoski Vodka (£2.30). We thought 1 litre of vodka would be plenty between us, the second we could just throw into the pot as a welcoming gesture and seeing as I’m now unfathomably rich £1.15’s worth of cheaper-than-home-brand Vodka wasn’t going to bankrupt me.

After a reasonably lengthy cab journey into the outer suburbs of Lima we arrived in a reasonably classy looking neighbourhood, paid the driver and headed into the house. We were somewhat unexpectedly greeted by a lady in her mid fifties who riddled us with a host of Spanish as we kissed her on the cheek and entered her house. It turned out, she was the mother of the party thrower and she was just in charge of the welcoming ceremony. With that sorted we made our way into the kitchen and weighed up the drink situation. With there being no room in the fridge, due to avocados and red onions,we just left our stash on the table and headed into the lounge. I was guessing we were early as the father was sat watching the TV and the only people in attendance were our contact and the host but we were reliably informed the others were on their way. After 25 minutes of awkward silence and the Peruvian version of the generation game, the other guests arrived and the party was in full flow. By full flow I mean the radio was put on for a bit of background music and the other 4 guests were now in attendance. 2 slightly obese 35 year old local men both dressed like Rolf Harris, a Romanian girl in a puffer jacket and a small girl who looked like an oompa-loompa who insisted she was 25 but would have easily passed for 11. The younger sister of the host then came and joined us and that was it, that was the party. 8 guests and the hosts family, I felt a little mislead.

Tom turned to me and whispered “I think we may have over cooked it on the vodka”, the other guests had brought a 6 pack of beers between them. Being the token white men, we were the main interest of the party. This meant, we had to do a photo shoot with every possible combination of the family in front a giant picture of Jesus hanging from the wood panelled wall. Mum and us. Dad and us. Mum, dad and us. Mum, dad, the 2 daughters and us. Mum, the 2 daughters and us (Dad out). Mum, an urn and us. An urn and us. I’m just glad it was only the 4 of them (5 if you include the urn). To say I was getting bored would be a hefty understatement so I went for a wonder to the kitchen and came up with a cunning plan to spice things up a little. I poured us each a small measure and then spiked the remaining Fanta with the majority of the second bottle of Vodka. Nobody else was ever going to drink it and with any luck they hadn't noticed it was even there. I was exclusively drinking soda water with mine but I thought if Tom and Will found themselves a little more intoxicated it certainly wouldn't hurt them but they might provide some form of much needed entertainment.

It started off well as Tom and Will hardly noticed the extra dosage and were slowly become merrier and merrier but then things took a turn for the worst. As these things normally do, my harmless trick backfired spectacularly. I noticed the younger sister of the host was drinking the Fanta. Tom and Wills Fanta. The Fizzy, laced with vodka Fanta. By this stage it was too late, I couldn’t say “Sorry young lass, best you stop drinking that Fanta as you will most likely end up pissed as a newt”. I literally couldn’t say that as I don’t speak Spanish but also the father was a fairly big man. The picture of Jesus wasn’t helping matters, there's nothing better for installing guilt than a massive picture of Christ looking down at you and judging like a holy Simon Cowell.

Danger was averted by tipping the content into a flower pot the very second the girl put her drink down. It left her a little confused but I’m sure she would have been more disorientated had she of finished off half a pint of Vodka. Other than that the night was nothing short of spectacular, Lima really is an amazing city. I’m not sure what the morale of this story is - Don’t take copious amounts of alcohol to Peruvian house parties, maybe. A handy little tip for you all there. Oh, and always cover 18 red, works every time.

Machu Picchu

Much to my disappointment, Tom and Will decided the best way for us to visit the ancient Inca site of Machu Picchu was via a 3 day jungle trek. I don’t mind a bit of walking but 60km over 3 days uphill didn’t really sound too appealing. Add to this the fact we couldn’t even take a change of clothes and it quickly turned farcical.

It rained the whole first day. My suggestion of direct train there and back was looking better by the minute but they were being rather stubborn. “Its the sense of achievement you get from hard work and effort” was there excuse. I was more concerned about the sense of walking around in wet pants for the foreseeable future.

By the time we eventually arrived in Machu Picchu I was drenched. Not a single inch of my body avoided the onslaught. Luckily for Tom and Will, Machu Picchu distracted me sufficiently from pushing them off. The sight was like a painting, the sort of thing you see in films. Really quite surreal. An entire town built 600 years ago from huge rocks 2500 meters above sea level. We arrived there just before sunrise and as daylight broke across the mountains, not even my squelching footwear could upset me.

Issues

I apologise for the recent lack of posts but it really wasn't my fault. I’ve had a few technical issues.

Error: x5893488Hgd00000f, whatever that may be, has been causing me all kinds of problems over the last fortnight, but thankfully it now seems to have been resolved.

Lets try again. Wish me luck!

Welcome To The Jungle

I’m not sure if it’s a common complaint amongst people turning 24, but my subconscious has decided that life should be lived a little more on the edge. It kicked things off with the for mentioned mine tour. An experience I found so torturous that by the end I was happy to walk towards any light at the end of a tunnel. Luckily for me, the light I selected was the exit of the dingy place but this didn’t mean I was entirely safe. Next on the agenda was an activity our guide took so lightly, it was as if he’d slotted it between finger painting and playing in the sandpit. ‘Dynamite time’ gave me the opportunity to make a real life bomb. A bomb explosive enough to make large cavities in solid rock, and I’m guessing even bigger cavities in me. With danger averted for a second time, we made a brief visit to La Paz, the capital of Bolivia, and took part in a hair raising ride down the worlds most dangerous road on a push bike. For those of you who are unfamiliar with ‘death road’, it’s called this due to the fact it takes the lives of over 200 human beings each year, yet the Bolivian government generate so much money from this attraction they've deemed it unnecessary to close. Upon reaching the bottom with no harm done, except a touch of chafeage, I was happy to discover from a rather informative leaflet that the authorities had invested heavily in long distance radios meaning they can now alert each other whenever an accident occurred. What was more concerning was the fact that it stated that an ambulance, road signs, rescue equipment and climbing ropes were still on the pending list.

It was time for something even more death defying and what better place to start than the Amazon. Home to some of the most deadly, poisonous and quite frankly scary species of animal on the planet. Fully camouflaged in thick undergrowth and murky water meaning you don’t even know they're there until you've stepped on them. Literally.

Tom, our new American friend Will and I decided to head to the Amazon basin for a 3 day Rudyard Kipling style adventure. It started the second we arrived in Rurrenabaque and pulled out of the car park in our jeep. All of a sudden we skidded to a stop, the driver jumped out and crouched down in front of the vehicle, then opened the back door holding a sloth. Out of all the weird creatures on this planet, the sloth takes some beating. They look like baby Chewbacca’s with big claws. The driver then insisted we had to hold on to the sloth until we reached a nature reserve a little further up the road where it would be far safer, away from the risks of poachers. For those few of you unfamiliar with the procedures of taking care of a wild sloth in the back of a jeep, here’s the basics. 1) Try and pin the arms & legs down as they tend to aim their big claws at your eyes. 2) Don’t hold too tightly as they are covered in ticks, flies and other various parasites which would love the opportunity to leave you paralysed. 3) Don’t give in to the sloths squealing no matter how unnerving it may be. The second you do they go for the eyes. Please refer to point 1.

The ‘little’ journey to the nature reserve lasted 2 hours by which point the sanctioning of a wild sloth was becoming very tedious. It’s a good job sloths are so incredibly slow or I’d have been typing this on a Braille keyboard. We eventually left it in a big tree 500,000 sloth years away from where it came from and I must say Barry, this was his pet name, looked extremely happy in his new home.

Once the jeep journey was over we boarded a long boat and headed up the river. It was a 3 hour journey and I can honestly say we didn’t go 5 minutes without seeing some type of wildlife on the banks. The variety was amazing, birds, monkeys, crocodiles, alligators, snakes, turtles, pigs, all of which in various colours, shapes and sizes. When the boat sadly arrived at our final destination we disembarked and headed into what would be our lodgings for the next 3 days. Mosquito Camp #3 as it was appropriately coined, was a roughly pieced together shack made entirely from wood & straw. It had net windows, no electricity, cold showers and a real sense of jungle.

The next morning we started the day with a spot of anaconda hunting. We were reliably informed by our guide, the Amazonian version of Mick Dundee, that these anacondas were of very little threat to a fully grown human. They only grew up to 2 to 3 meters and it would take at least a 12 footer to bring down a man. Somewhat apprehensively we set of into the long grass with wellington boots on our feet and repellent on our skin. After an hour we hadn’t managed to see a single snake, let alone a 3 meter long anaconda. But then Will suddenly stood on something big causing the water and grass to shake violently. We called Mick over and he started prodding round with his stick. With one big poke Mick caused another trembling splash and to our amazement a 2 meter crocodile revealed himself. At this stage everyone was a little worried, even Mick. He told us to stand still, then back away slowly as 6 feet of croc is plenty to disembowel a man. Once at a safe distance Mick started laughing and told Will how lucky he was. Will didn’t find it that amusing.

After lunch, piranha fishing was on the agenda. Sat in a small boat with a short length of fishing wire, surrounded by flesh eating fish and alligators is actually more therapeutic than it may sound. We sat for the best part of 3 hours reeling in the angry little fellers and I could have done more if it hadn’t started to rain in the way only rainforests can. After tea the weather had settled so it was back out on the boat again for twilight alligator spotting. We were taught that when you point a torch into an alligators eyes, much in the same way as a cats eye does, it shines back. However alligator eyes glow in a bright laser like red. Flowing down the river in pitch black we could see just as much wildlife as we could during the day, the red eyes of the alligators, hundreds of firefly's, bats, turtles and toads.

On our final morning in the Amazon, after seeing all of the rivers dangers, we were told that swimming in the water was perfectly safe. Perfectly safe as long as you were in the company of pink dolphins. In my opinion pink dolphins don’t exactly sound like the most terrifying of bodyguards. However, in the rivers of the Amazon, the pink dolphin truly is king. As soon as they came up to the boat you could see the crocs and alligators heading for the banks. Mick told us how the Dolphins are too intelligent for all the other animals and they love to play with humans and protect them. Not one for Idle words, Mick jumped in and we followed. The dolphins were bigger than I had expected and true to Mick’s word swam with us up the river warding off any dangers.

So after 3 days of being bezzers with a Spanish speaking, cross between Rambo and Rolf Harris, I’d managed to keep all my limbs and I still hadn’t required the services of an undertaker. There was just one more challenge ahead of me. We had to fly back to La Paz from Rurrenabaque airport, an airport with a dirt track runway and a host of aircraft created using the original blueprints of the Wright brothers and constructed from Meccano.

The takeoff was similar to rolling down a cobbled hill in a pram and once we were in the air things didn’t improve a great deal. The toy plane picked up every little bit of turbulence the atmosphere could throw at it. Alton Towers has nothing on the flight from Rurrenabaque to La Paz except a maybe toilet, something the toy plane failed to provide. But what it lacked in lavatories it made up for in sick bags and they were being put to good use by all 8 passengers.

So after a weeks solid stupidity, I’m now in Lake Titicaca relaxing in sun, avoiding any activity that could so much as break a nail and I can’t help wondering how Barry is getting on in his new life.

Birthday Presents

This year I turned 24. It’s my second birthday since I’ve been travelling and this time I spent the day in a mine. I’m sure that’s not everyone's idea of a birthday treat but it was good fun. That’s actually a lie, from the minute I entered the place to the minute I left I was shitting myself. We had to crawl through holes barely big enough to fit in and avoid tumbling down cavities 50m deep. It was an experience none-the-less and I managed to stay alive so can’t grumble. I also got the chance to dress up in a village people costume for the second time in a week so that was worth the money alone.

With it being my birthday and all, Tom decided he would splash out and go for a present with a bit of a bang. This year for my birthday I got:

• 1 x Two minute fuse and detonator
• 1 x Bag of ammonium nitrate
• 1 x Stick of TNT
• 1 x The chance to play with dynamite

Good luck topping that for my 25th.

Salt Of The Earth

The more observant/nosey amongst you may have already noticed the pictures of my trip to the Salar De Uyuni. Every day I travel, the world continues to amaze me. Tom, our new friends and I spent 4 days in a jeep travelling through the worlds largest salt flats. The Salar De Uyuni was created some 40000 years ago when the Andes rose from the sea and created a plateau 3,656m above sea level. The sea water was then trapped in a large prehistoric lake that has slowly evaporated over thousands of years leaving behind 10000 square meters of flat, seemingly endless, salt desert. Not something you come across every day.

We spent the first morning of the tour travelling up the mountains, taking in some spectacular views and slowly developing altitude sickness. Our driver was a wonderfully friendly and knowledgeable man who couldn’t speak a word of English. He suggested to us that we should chew on Coca leaves as it helps alleviate the symptoms, at least that's what I think he was saying. I can’t say I was overly impressed by the medicinal qualities of coca leaves. If anything it made matters worse as the sensation was similar to chomping on a bag of PG tips. Luckily I managed to pull through and by the afternoon I was quite well acclimatised. We sat down in a Lama field for dinner then pushed on through to a small native village for sunset and fell asleep.

The second and third days were spent driving through yet more fantastic scenery and attempting to take photos of flamingos. Our guide was once again telling us all the important details about the local geography and the local people. Again this is a guess, he could have been talking about gardening for all I know.

On the last day we woke up early to see the sunrise across the salt flats and slept in a hotel made entirely from salt. Even the beds were constructed of the stuff. I don’t know what came over me, but I just had an uncontrollable urge to keep licking the walls. It was like the savoury version of Willy Wonka’s Chocolate factory.