Start spreading the news....I am leaving today..

Ok, well I have actually already left. Farewell New York. Farewell shops. Farewell bar tenders/waiters who really are actors/writers/journalists. Farewell fashionsistas......

Two weeks in New York is indulgent. And expensive. But who can blame me? Its a city that generates massive amounts of fun, particularly when you can terminate your solo traveling adventures for the comfort of friends....Hello Smiley, Jordy and Gail.

So there was lots of catching up to do. Lots of wine to drink. Lots of fabulous restaurants to visit and lots of Americans to laugh at, all within balmy 40 degree days. I tried to pretend that as an Australian I could handle this. 40 degrees no problem. It's not much warmer than our winter. This could have been convincing if I was not so obviously betrayed by my appearance, that was more of an advertisement for the dangers of heat exhaustion, rather than the summer holiday look I was channeling.....

Sad as it was to leave, it is always fun to come home and Sydney doesn't seem to have changed. Except of course, that the price of bananas now seems to be roughly indexed to price of gold. So given that I am now sitting at the less salubrious and exotic venue of a Bondi internet cafe, it is time for the blog to end. Lest this become a weekly column of boring experiences of my week ( "don't you hate it at the supermarket when...., etc).

For those of your that kept reading ( most probably only my mother) , thank you. I owe you a drink. For all my clever friends, that ignored my numerous grammatical and spelling errors , and my pathetic lack of emails, I owe you two.

Hope to see you all soon.

Love Bec

Its never to late for a blog entry - sorry Argentina

This is cheating of the upmost kind. By now, I find myself in New York, blissful, among the noise, smog, attitude and of course , shops.

But nonetheless, not mentioning the fabulous BAires ( as the cool kids call it) , would be criminal.
Suffice to say after a few months of no coffee ( Nescafe on a good day in Peru, on a bad day, we wont even talk about it ), carrying your toilet paper, and of course , those pleasant words, "nature's toilet", it is fair to say that I was missing some creature comforts. Call me weak, call me whatever, just bring me a proper coffee and hot shower that is not "optional".

BA then was my kind of town. With the colour and glitz of South America ( sort of) , I also enjoyed the European sheen. After all, a city with roughly the same number of shoe stores and coffee shops as people is ok by me.

A fling around the tourists sites , like La Boca ( of course attending church there , a church in the shape of a football stadium, all worshipping a now very chubby old soccer player), and the Evita museum ( yes, they had her shoes and dresses, it was all very Princess Di, Argentina style), as well as the beautiful churches and cobbled streets, left me gobsmacked. As did the size of the steaks and red wine in this town, which , after eating some, left as one girl and I nicknamed, a condition that can only be known as "meat sweats". Eww the glamour!

Fuelled then with carnage and consumption, it was time to hit the nightclubs. I am the first to admit that I may not be now quite as cool as I was when I was 18 ( shock and gasp ), but I thought I still had it. That was where I was wrong. No , I did not wear aviators at the clubs like my fellow peers ( though i do find sometimes that strobe lighting can be a bit hard on the eyes). And I was ready to go out at 11 30pm. We left at 3:30am , like true Argentineans.

Regardless to say, whether its the meat, the wine, or the clubs, there is something contagious about this city and certainly a fabulous place from which to say goodbye to South America.

xxxBec

How do you remove sand from your ears - Life in a desert oasis

At some point, its time to get off the beaten track. Stick in hand then, i skipped past the Colca Canyon (Condors are just birds after all).

Instead, it was off into the desert i went, accompanied by Sydney Export and all round traveller , Alex, for a reunion , Oasis style. Rolling sandunes imprisoned our palm tree escape in Huacincia, a one horse ( or one Llama ) town.

However, sunshine and pool action made a nice change from the rest of South American winter. Oh and then there is the sandboarding.

A surfer i am not. A snow-boarder i am not. Determined I was then to eliminate then the last foot involved adventure. And eliminate i did. Literally surfing mountains of sand was fun. Trying to go down on your stomach because it goes faster ( and therefore must be better) is more fun until you fall off. Cut to a trip to the hospital where i enjoyed a few x rays and some serious sand extraction. Ewwwww. No permanent damage to report however, though i will have the scar for a little while i think ( making me all the more backpacker cool i think). The moral of this story- for the clumsy like me, sand should be reserved exclusively for sand castle making.

After a few big nights then with a wounded arm (re wounded pride) on the Huacinia city (aka one bar, same bar for four nights), it was time to head to Lima aka civilisation. Having not been near a city for over two months, i did want any disgusting tourist does and stalked the city for the Starbucks. Latte in hand (keep your judging to yourself), i attempted to do a bit of final souvenir shopping. I have met my match in the Peruvian markets, with these shopkeepers that negotiate like a cross between a very effective lawyer and bitchy retail associate ( knowing both breeds well i was impressed). Deciding that i didn't need anymore Llama knitted products , it was time to leave Lima and Peru.

Off then i head to the land of tango.....Argentina and Buenos Aires and my final stop in South America.

Walk like an Incan- Life on the Trail

42km in a few days. At a few moments, i thought i may have to get married off to one of the local Incan descendant tribes and adapt to traditional Incan lifestyle to avoid walking any further. But i made it, millions of stairs and all.

The Inca Trail to Macchu Pitchu was fantastic, and truth be told, not quite as hard as i thought it might be. Don't get me wrong, that is my quota of exercise for quite a while. However, as far as the hiking and camping thing goes ( commonly referred to as that dirty "outdoorsy" word), having porters cook fabulous food and carry some of your baggage smooths over the whole process. These porters manage to carry 25kgs ( gas bottles and all) and sprint past me on the track. I , with other mere mortals, complained about carrying a few bits and pieces and 3 litres of waters.

The arrival at actual Macchu Pitchu at 7am this morning ( making 4 30am the reasonable time of departure) was sensational. The ruins are intricately preserved and massive, giving you a real sense of what the community was like. This coupled with the euphoric sense of achievement after hiking for a few days made the whole experience so memorable. The sheer happiness was only later replaced with some sort of homicidal anger towards the tourists that catch the train in for the day and wear high heels and earrings ( I , on the other hand have not showered for four days).

I don't think i have fully converted to being the outdoorsy type ( I was the only person in the group wearing sneakers and non hiking pants) , but it is loads of fun to pretend for a while......

xxxbec

Where can i get a boat and house made out of reed? Welcome to the Floating Islands.

Its hard to say Lake Titticca without giggling. Its even harder to say it when locals tell you actually how it is pronounced. Apparently, its heavy on the flem for the "cca" "cca". Right then, though its hard to tell sometimes when the locals are just messing with you, the stupid tourist.

Puno, gateway to the islands itself , is not much of a city. Though, it was definitely improved, when fellow CU employee, Patrick Daley and I, managed to meet up and paint the town red. Following two chaotic nights, with a ensemble cast of other travellers, we were the Puno nightlife scene.

Perhaps then, it was time to retire to the more wholesome life of the islands. The Floating Islands and islands of Lake Titicaca are situated on some of the most spectacular ( and isolated) real estate in the world. A stay on one of the islands with a family was meant to be an insight into this life. While at some point i wondered whether i had walked into some sort of Peruvian "Old Sydney Town", it was still possible to see the life that these people still lived in, minus the tourists. ( They have Coca Cola now, but mod cons like TV and DVDS still seem a while away).

Sad to leave this island ( well sad specifically to leave the very cute donkeys ) , a whip around the floating islands in a boat will make your forget your troubles. These islands made entirely out of reed, redefine high maintenance living, given that the houses have to be replaced every 8 months ( one of the many reasons that it is unlikely that reed will replace brick in Sydney).

Whilst it is beautiful and easy to own your reed boat living on these islands, I wondered why people continued to live here, when the mainland was only 1hour away. The answer apparently is simple. No tax, no ownership, no poverty. In this part of the world then communism is not all stark grey buildings, but colour and waterviews.

You cant help but wonder if things would have been different if Stallin had chosen reed over gray concrete.......

xxxBec

Double double boil and trouble- Farewell Bolivia, Ola Peru

Welcome to La Paz. A city where shopping is given a new meaning. You can buy anything here, from Llama foetus ( handy when you want to whip up that magic potion ) to anything that could have reasonably been stolen from electrical stores or tourists ( welcome to the very unsubtly named " Black Market").

Content not to be one the one wielding the magic wand, a quick trip to the witches market , meant that i could get my (coca) tea leaves read. I cant help but feel that any specifics were lost in translation, and suffice to say, no amount of persuading ( or cash ) could encourage the witch in question to "see" Johnny Depp or the like in my future. Perhaps the witch had been using a dodgy Llama foetus?

Two days later, and it was sadly time to leave Bolivia. For all its idiosyncrasies (" oh you meant you wanted that done today", " I am sorry the planes are on strike", " we are unsure when that road will actually be open again" and " no, no we don't offer hot water"), it was a fabulous adventure, and a complete contrast to what seems in hindsight, as civilised and sterile Brazil.

But onwards and upwards ( its a tough life) so into Peru i head. First stop Puno and Lake Titicaca.

On top of the world ( literally at 5000m) in Bolivia

As an Australian, i felt it was my duty to head to one of the most famous mines in the world ( and no i can´t name any other "famous" mines). Its home was Potosi, the highest city in the world.

By paying your dues into the mine ( in the form of gifts for the miners, cocoa leaves and 95% proof alcohol), the miners will blow up as much dynamite as your heart desires, and you can go down as many shafts below as you like. The dynamite was cool, but given my love of closed in spaces, i escaped the mine at about 10 metres underground. The conditions in the mine are pretty depressing.Kids from the age of 12 can work there, and most people work without an safety clothes, for less than $6 a day.

It wasn't however all grim. Luckily, i arrived on Lllama sacrifice day ( not its official name but you get the drift). From what i could piece together, the ceremony involves offering the Llama to mother earth, in return for a bounty of minerals and silver for the year to come. I found it difficult to resist the urge to liberate a Llama. I found it more difficult to get Llama blood off my jeans when i inadvertently walked in the wrong direction. Ewwwwwww!
Suffice to say , i thought the blood and gore was behind me. Though the word on the backpacker street was that the next part of my trip, the salt flats, was minus 20 degrees with people vomiting from altitude sickness. Both were true.

Despite the no heating or electricity ( where not only did i freeze but so did my water bottle and iPod), i was not prepared for how incredible the area is. The first day seemed like we were driving on Mars. Massive red and orange mountain formations, volcanos, strange rock formations whose origin remain unknown. The next day was more like jumping into a surreal painting. Pink lakes with pink flamingos, aqua blue lagoons ( Lagoon Verde) and masses of unpopulated, seemingly never visited, hot springs.

The final day was on the actual salt flats , which was a blur of blue sky and 12000 km of endless white salt. Picture perfect. When you look at the salt it seems to look like snow. Except for the fact that the flats are disrupted by a few islands of hundreds and hundreds of 2500 year old cactus trees. Bizarre and beautiful are both understatements. When i understand how to upload pictures, my ramblings will become clear.

However, it is in desperate need of a shower ( four days and counting, so gross ), that i head to civilisation and my last stop in Bolivia. La Paz.

xxxBec

There is no public liability insurance in Bolivia

First stop, Santa Cruz. A big ugly city that I was stuck in for two days too many given an airline strike. Apparently, the airlines strike on average once a week. Lets just say things move at a different pace in Bolivia. That pace has two speeds; slow and slower.

So suffice to say, once I reached Sucre (¨the white city"), I was keen to go out and do something. It is this mentality that led me to the insanity of a 9 hour mountain bike and hike in Sucre.

There are lots of travel experiences that are "once in a lifetime". Some earn this title because you know that you may never return to that place. Others earn the title,because once realized and achieved, no amount of money or bribery could ever persuade you to visit again. The mountain bike riding fits into the latter category.

The biking probably would have been ok. We were going to visit dinosaur footprints which were incredibly well preserved ( despite the fact that they were next door to a quarry where they dynamite three times a day). What I was not prepared for was the effect of physical activity at an altitude of 2500m . With in about 10 minutes, we all felt like we were going to die. Lets just say, that I am not an astronaut in training.

But like the fearless intrepid traveler that I am ( re too embarrassed to admit defeat) , I continued. Down the rocky path, along the cliff side 500m above the ground. Advise from bike guy, break at corner to avoid going over the side. Check. Arriving at the final destination, the views were spectacular as you looked at part of the Andes ( frankly ,I thought we had climbed them, but no ). Day over? Please. Onwards and upwards to the waterfalls, which involved again, some sort of clinging ( this time with your hands ) to the rock surface.

Lets just say that 9 hours later I am ready for a drink and a nap. Oh and if you want to see dinosaur footprints, go to a museum like a normal person!

xxxbec