The South American Adventure

So here we are almost four months later, back in Buenos Aires having completed a full circle of South America. When we were last here, I was still finding my feet on this strange, new continent and yet now I feel bizarrely at home. Strange, because in a couple of day's time we'll be in our actual homes and there are very few similarities which can be drawn between the two.  

This thought sparked an idea! By comparing England and South America, I can both reflect on my time here and bring this final chapter to a close, highlighting what I've missed about home and what I will miss about South America when I'm finally back on British soil.

#1 English Restaurants vs. South American Street Food

In England we're lucky that we have access to all kinds of cuisines but what we're missing is the option of buying it from a food market. From arepas and tortillas, to tapiocas and buñuelos, the very best South American meals are found on the street. Nothing feels more authentic than sitting cross legged on a cobbled step gobbling down a meal you've seen cooked right in front of you. Though we may have the occasional market in England, it lacks the excitement found at South American food stalls because the meals are priced similarly to nearby restaurants. The beauty of South America's street food is that it's so cheap, you have the freedom to try all kinds of crazy looking dishes which invariably lead to some amazing discoveries. If you don't like a meal, you've lost a couple of pounds at most but the same cannot be said for our London equivalents. It's worth noting that whichever continent you're on, people will often try and warn you away from street food but unless you have a stomach which is lined with flower petals, you'll more than likely be absolutely fine.

#2 English Parties vs. South American Fiestas

I do love good old English nights out but they're a world away from the parties thrown throughout South America. Whereas we like to plan our festivities down to a tee, including which pair of heels will be most appropriate for which club, South Americans just chuck it all together in a spectacularly spontaneous way. Wherever there are people there's potential for a party, whether it be a beach, a city square or a random back street alleyway. Just add some music and the dancing begins! If you were to stop and ask a South American why they're celebrating they'd look at you like you're crazy; 'because we're alive of course!' If you asked the same of a Brit on a night out they'd look at you like you're crazy and down another jägerbomb. 

#3 English Landscapes vs. South American Scenery

South America is massive and so it only makes sense that it has every kind of scenery you could possibly imagine. However, imagining it simply isn't enough and most of it you truly have to see to believe. One country alone can be home to tropical beaches, snow capped mountains, baron deserts and the Amazon rainforest! It's really quite amazing how quickly the scenery can change and no matter how much ground we covered, we never grew bored of simply staring out into South American space. England has some beautiful areas but it lacks the huge variety which makes South America so exciting.

#4 English Solitude vs. South American Smiles 

We English keep ourselves to ourselves. Nobody wants to be that crazy person on the tube who strikes up conversation, even less so the poor soul who has to suffer sitting next to that crazy person. In South America it seems the opposite is true; you'd be mad not to speak to the person next to you. Language barrier? No problem. They'll tease a sentence out of you even if it takes them the entire thirty hour bus journey. As much as they interact with one another, we found locals to be twice as interested in us. They'd offer directions before we even realised we were lost and stop us in the most random places simply to ask where we're from. Initially we had our guards up: all these stories had convinced us that any attempt to speak with us would be some sort of distraction whilst their mate mugged our bags but we soon realised these people have a genuine interest in others around them. And why not? Virtually everyone we spoke to taught us something new and we were continually surprised by the people we'd then choose to return to for a second conversation. 

#5 English Prices vs. South American Pennies

Aside from Brazil and Chile, the countries we visited in South America were dirt cheap. This has obvious benefits but best of all was that it enabled us to try new things that we would never have been able to afford on the same budget in England. For example, we swam with wild dolphins, threw ourselves down a canyon and climbed a 6,000m mountain all for the equivalent of just a few pounds a time. I imagined that dealing with such small figures would devalue the money but quite the contrary! We were ecstatic each time we haggled hard and saved ourselves an almighty sixty pence because that additional sixty pence was not only a couple of coins, but three empanadas, a laundry service or an entire meal at the food market. I'm going to miss how far our money goes and our dedication to making every penny count. 

#6 English Graffiti vs. South American Street Art

Any spritz of colour in an English city is deemed to be vandalism whereas in South America, it is celebrated as art. As a result it's a beautiful and vibrant continent with every blank space a potential canvas for the latest innovative street art masterpiece. Almost every town and city we visited was filled with street murals and interesting, abstract statues, as though the entire area is one big art gallery. I understand there's a fine line between a masterpiece and a monstrosity but I can't help thinking England could do with a little lightening up. If we stopped chasing down every kid with a spray can we might give them time to develop their mindless graffiti into something a little more meaningful.

#7 English Long Journeys vs. South American Never-ending Journeys 

Having done some rough sums we've worked out that during our four months in South America we've spent over four hundred hours on buses. That's about two and a half weeks! The longest stint was our last where we did three overnight journeys in a row, from La Paz to Uyuni, Uyuni to Villazon and Villazon to Buenos Aires - a total of sixty two hours, without including the waiting time inbetween. If we were to drive for this long in England we'd end up half way to Africa! It's hilarious to me now that I used to complain about a one hour journey into London when we can now happily endure a twenty hour bus over various borders. That said, whilst some of the buses were absolutely horrendous, others were very pleasant with fully reclining chairs, in-seat entertainment and three course meals. National Express could learn a lot from Argentinian bus companies!

#8 English Highlands vs. South American Mountains

As much as I love the beautiful South American mountains, they come at a price: altitude! Unless you're content with admiring them from below you'll likely suffer the headaches and breathlessness caused by being so high. Initially we were literally waking up in the night gasping for air and feeling as though we'd run a marathon after climbing a flight of stairs. Though we gradually acclimatised, I never got fully used to living in the clouds and I'm looking forward to feeling full of life again down at ground zero. English countryside can be just as impressive despite not ever exceeding the one thousand metre mark.

#9 English Customer Service vs. South American Sloth Service

South Americans are never in a hurry and their customer service leaves a lot to be desired. It completely baffled us that we could spend twenty minutes queuing to pay for three items at a supermarket, or three hours to do a border crossing that some people have to do every day. Fortunately, as travellers we were rarely pushed for time either and so mostly found their laid back outlook rather refreshing but if I were to actually live here, I think I'd find it far more infuriating. For a nation that love to celebrate life, they spend a hell of a lot of it waiting around for something to happen.

#10 English Health & Safety Madness vs. South American See-What-Happens Mantra

This is always a tricky one. Whilst health and safety regulations are obviously put in place to reduce the likelihood of accidents occurring, when they're applied stringently they simultaneously reduce the likelihood of having any fun. If we'd been following British rules, there's no way we'd have been allowed to share a stream with alligators, walk along an active train track or race head first down a vertical sand slope; all of which were truly awesome. However, had we been eaten, run over or left with broken bones, I imagine they would have been considerably less enjoyable. I'm not sure either continent has the balance completely right here but it was exciting to err on the side of incaution for a little while, and thankfully I've lived to tell tale (touch wood, one day to go!) Where I do definitely side with England though is their approach to hygiene. Though forced to accept a long time ago that filthy squat toilets won't kill me, I nevertheless will be ecstatic to return to western bathroom facilities where the prominent colour is white and toilet roll can actually be thrown into the toilet. 

England and South America really are worlds apart and yet I find myself thinking fondly of both. How is it that I can be happy in two places which are in so many ways direct opposites of one another? Well one thing I've certainly learnt since being away is that nothing is ever black and white in terms of being good or bad, right or wrong, and I think these two places are a great example of that. One is not perfect and the other flawed; they're both just different and both just fine. In fact, more than fine, they're both f*cking fantastic!

I never thought I could love a continent as much as I love Asia but South America has exceeded all my expectations. We spent just shy of four months here but I think even after four years I'd still be left wanting more. I'm almost pleased that there are parts we missed out on because it just means we'll have to return! I've no doubt I'll be back before I know it and I absolutely cannot wait.

Buenos Aires & Back Again

The trouble is that when something's been hyped up as much as Buenos Aires was, it leaves a lot of room for disappointment. Sadly during our first trip to the Argentinian capital, disappointment is exactly what we found. 

Though the city is indeed as beautiful as it is bustling, nothing about it particularly wowed me. We'd been told there'd be plenty to keep us entertained but we roamed the streets of Soho, passing very little of interest. 

That evening, as music blared from the hostel bar and crowds of people started drinking at midnight, it became quite apparent why Buenos Aires has made such a name for itself amongst backpackers. The drunken masses set out at an hour we'd usually get in and stumbled back just in time for breakfast. 

The following evening we joined them but despite it being an undeniably good night, it still wasn't enough to win me over. Once we were inside the club we could have been anywhere in the world and I'm looking for a little more from my travels than just going around and getting drunk in different places. I know, grandma alert. 

Anyway, as the city's schoolboy tactics didn't do the trick, we returned to Buenos Aires after our trip to Iguazu Falls with far lower expectations. And this time, absolutely loved it! 

Whereas previously we'd stayed in the centre, our second stint was spent in Palermo, a quieter but quirkier part of town. We were quickly taken in by the charm of the place with its cute little cafés and sweet-smelling bakeries. Though the boutique style shops were rather expensive, the main square hosted a daily market which was always buzzing with locals seeking out a bargain.

One afternoon we took advantage of the sunshine and walked all the way to the Recoleta region to visit the world's most elaborate cemetery. Only the wealthy can afford to be buried here and lie in tombs as large as my house! They're organised into blocks which mirror the layout of the city, creating an eerie village vibe. 

On the Saturday we celebrated Fareed's birthday and bought tickets to the Fuerzabruta show to make it special. This hour long experience is both eccentric and orgasmic (think Cirque du Soleil on drugs) and is by far the weirdest, most wonderful show I've ever seen. I'd love to go into more detail but the mastermind behind it all urges the audience to keep the secret and not ruin the surprises. I'm not sure my words could do it justice anyway but what I will say is that if media doesn't work out, I'll be joining the circus! 

Smiling and inspired, we then stopped off at a burger joint (called Burger Joint) in Palermo on the way home. This quirky little place with its graffitied walls and cardboard cut out menus has been ranked number four in The Huffington Post's list of top burger bars in the world. I get why. 

Finally it was time for some celebratory drinks. We started on the bubbly, then moved onto wine and around the time the vodka was cracked open, Godfrey had come out to play. We'd also bought a special liqueur, flavoured with Argentina's favourite sweet but it was less than enjoyable to drink (even before Fareed pointed out it was the colour of katsu curry) and is likely to have played a big part in our hangovers the next morning. Death by Dulce de Leche...

Fareed's birthday night was also his last in South America so we woke up feeling pretty sad. Before he left, we shared an amazing last supper at a crepe and waffle café in the hope that a mountain of Nutella might help. However, though the food was epic, it still didn't mask the emotional goodbyes. We've loved our little South American foursome and will really miss him now he's gone.

Though it wasn't a case of love at first sight, the city certainly wooed us in the end. Luckily we'll be returning again for a third time and if it weren't for the fact that it will be our very last stop on this round the world trip, I think I'd already be looking forward to it!

Falling for Iguazu Falls

Reflecting back upon our experience at Iguazu Falls is like reliving a rather elaborate dream. The scenes imprinted within my memory are all so vivid and yet they seem to belong to another world, too mesmerising to be a part of this reality...

*

The park is almost empty when we arrive and eerily quiet. Following the silence, we pass the visitor's centre and take the green trail through the jungle. Whilst we'd expected to find floods of tourists, we're instead met by a family of coatis, meandering their way across our path. At first glance, these strange racoon-like animals look adorable with their aardvark's snout and bushy tails, which do well to distract the unknowing human from their sharp teeth and menacing claws. We rush past them quickly, taking note but simultaneously trying to ignore the numerous signs warning us of crocodiles, snakes and tarantulas along our way.

On the upper trail we catch our first sight of the waterfalls. Everything about them feels infinite; not only the sheer number of falls, but the endless streams of water appearing from behind the horizon; the constant ripples tipping over the edge, sacrificing themselves to the greater good; the continual crashing of curling water colliding into chaos; and the long lasting echoes booming from cliff to cliff. Breathtaking is an understatement. 

The scene surrounding the falls is no less ethereal. Where the sunlight catches the spray, the white water acts as a blank canvas for the colourful rainbows which appear overhead. Higher still, eagles soar, gliding effortlessly as though humouring those pretty butterflies beneath them, flapping their wings so excitedly; their wings, which are so exotic in colour it seems they can only have been born from the rainbows below. I couldn't have imagined something so beautiful. 

Tearing ourselves away from the viewing terrace we board a small train which takes us up the mountain side. We're now level with the top of the falls but a wide river separates us from them. Though the wind carries with it the faint whispers of crashing water, this is the only telltale sign of the fall's existence. The river water is so still and serene that it's hard to believe what awaits us on the other side. 

More butterflies lead the way as we take the route along the wooden bridge. Though expertly camouflaged, we can just about make out a baby crocodile basking in the sunshine on the rocks to our left. A little further on we find a turtle to our right, marooned on an island no bigger than its shell. A heron spreads its wings to pose for our photographs whilst flashes of colour between rustling leaves expose the hiding place of a toucan's nest. Seriously, what dream is this? 

We're approaching the edge now and what had previously looked like an inviting infinity pool at a luxury hotel resort, now reveals itself as a death defying drop. For ages we do nothing but stare in awe at the power of these falls. The spray rises so high above the water that it obscures our view of the valley beyond. It's as though we're standing at the very edge of the world, gazing out as it fades into nothingness.  

Finally we embark on the lower trail, the third and final one of the day. The park's trails have been cleverly built so that we can view the falls from various different distances and heights. We find they look incredible from every angle and no matter how hard I try telling myself that it's only water, I remain completely mesmerised.

* 

Though I've done my best to describe Iguazu Falls, it's a wonder that needs to be seen to be believed. Even then, if you're anything like me, you'll have a hard time convincing yourself that what you saw was real. It genuinely is too good to be true, a natural beauty so unnaturally beautiful!

Round & Around Rosario

To break up another big old bus journey to Iguazu, we stopped off for two nights in Rosario. Though we gave ourselves less than forty-eight hours to explore this city, I feel as though we got to know the area pretty well. This is mainly due to the fact that we spent approximately two hours the first morning circling the same six blocks over and over, in search of a bus ticket!

The plan was to catch the bus to the beach but it was far easier said than done. Tickets cost less than five pesos (the equivalent of about thirty pence) but the bus drivers only accept coins on board and Argentinian coins are extremely hard to come by. As a result, nobody is ever keen to dish them out and so there's no hope of changing up notes in a shop or bank. Your other option is to add money to an Oyster-like bus card so we borrowed one from the hostel and tried to top that up. Alas, that proved impossible too! We asked in dozens of newsagents but they all denied offering this service, instead pointing us in the direction of a different shop. Hope dwindled each time we heard the Spanish words for 'Try the next one, two blocks on the right...'

This bizarre system reminds me of the black market money exchange in Argentina which I don't believe I've mentioned yet. The Argentinian peso is incredibly unstable and so everyone is desperate to get their hands on American dollars. Therefore, the locals on the black market are willing to pay far more for dollars than they're actually worth. For example, if we were to exchange one hundred dollars at an official bank we'd have received roughly eight hundred pesos. On the black market, we made over one thousand! 

Initially we were apprehensive because it is of course illegal. However, the people offering the exchange on the streets display no caution whatsoever, shouting 'cambio, cambio' loudly so that everyone can hear. Often when you agree to a deal, they lead you into an official bank to make the exchange anyway! It's so strange and yet so accepted.

Anyway, tangent aside, we eventually gave up and traipsed back to the hostel. We were quite settled on the idea of finding something local to do but the owner, who looked uncannily like Alan from the Hangover, insisted we must find a way to the beach. He grabbed his keys, abandoned his desk and marched us outside: 'Follow Juan. I am Juan.' 

About fifteen blocks later we finally found success! I'd love to say that the beach was worth all this trouble but it hardly compared to those we've seen elsewhere on our travels. The ice-cream, on the other hand, was second to none! We can always count on ice-cream to save the day. 

Juan had told us that Rosario is in fact famous for being the ice-cream capital of Argentina and we soon discovered why. After the first, we took it upon ourselves to try out every ice-cream parlour we came across with the perfect excuse that we were just being cultural! 

Pascuas in Patagonia

 Eighteen hours is a long time to spend on a bus but the promise of free chocolate at the other end made the journey considerably less painful. Bariloche in Patagonia is renowned for its chocolatiers and with the Easter weekend just around the corner it felt like the perfect place to spend the holiday.

And right we were! The moment we stepped down from that stifling bus, the fresh alpine air filled our lungs, carrying with it the faint scent of mouth-watering chocolates. Following our noses, we found the town centre where chocolate shops line every street and chocolate cafés fill every corner. Each one is a wonderland in its own right, an Aladdin's cave of edible treasures; chocolate truffles, chocolate fountains, chocolate flakes and chocolate cakes! Some are wrapped up like tiny gifts in gold and silver, whilst others are left bare to entice your tastebuds. The best part is that there are so many shops competing for your custom that they all serve free samples to capture your interests. Needless to say, they captured ours very well.

Although it was Easter, we all agreed that Bariloche has a Christmassy feel about it. The wooden huts and log cabins look as though they've been plucked straight out of Switzerland and the snow-capped mountains would make an ideal setting for a Santa's grotto. 

However, as if to make a point that this weekend was in fact all about Easter, the world's largest chocolate egg stood proudly in the main square. At twenty-seven feet high it was absolutely ginormous. The morning of Easter Sunday, we joined a crowd of Argentinians to watch the egg be cracked open. It was a big event with film crews and radio presenters gathered around and suspense built as somebody babbled in Spanish over a loudspeaker for almost an hour. We understood next to nothing but the countdown was unmistakable: 'Cinco, cuatro, tres, dos, uno!' Trumpets sounded, balloons were released and the first square of chocolate egg smashed to the ground. As more and more pieces fell they revealed the smiling faces of little men, demolishing the egg from the inside outwards. 

Everyone was eager to grab a slab of the famous egg but we didn't fancy our chances against the hundreds of Argentinians, even if over half of them were children. Instead, we climbed the big hill back up to our hostel where we had our own secret stash of chocolates waiting for us. Like the big kids that we are we devised an Easter egg hunt, hiding the chocolates around our room and writing cryptic clues which led to each one. Later in the evening we treated ourselves to an all you can eat pizza night and left the restaurant feeling about as large as that egg. 

The following day, in a minor attempt at damage control, we cycled the twenty-five kilometres around the lake. The mountainous terrain made for some pretty awesome cycling and we raced down the hills with ridiculous speed. The trouble was, we loved going downhill about as much as we hated going uphill and I guess strictly speaking, we probably only pedalled for about ten kilometres, flew down the other ten, and then pushed the bikes for the remaining five up all of the steep inclines. 

Anyway, the morning started out rather grey but the clouds soon broke away, uncovering the most beautiful views out across the mountains. In many ways it reminded me of New Zealand but less green, and more autumnal to match the season. Even the rocky mountains in the far distance looked as though they'd had bursts of red and orange paint splashed across them to make them even more picturesque. 

We stopped twice along the way; once at a small beach where we skimmed stones across the surface of the clear green water, and a second time at Hotel Llao Llao, which sits high up in the mountains, overlooking another lake. We'd hoped to be able to relax with a hot chocolate in the hotel cafe but having taken one look around the lobby of this place we realised it was unlikely we'd be able to afford even a water. In our shabby cycling gear we stuck out like sore thumbs and the look on the security guards' faces said it all: 'get on your bikes' quite literally. 

If eighteen hours on a bus was long, twenty-four hours was practically a lifetime. However, though the journey back up North held no chocolate consolation, the stunning scenery I'd seen on the cycle continued for hours and I struggled to think of anywhere else I'd rather be than sat on that bus taking it all in. On and on we travelled, passing endless lakes, each one as still and serene as the next. Like an enormous mirror, the water reflected the world so perfectly that it was entirely indistinguishable from the scene itself. I found myself tilting my head to prove this theory, losing my gaze within the light blue waters with as much ease as if I'd been staring up into the infinite skies. Even from behind the thick, flecked glass of the bus window these views were truly breathtaking and I was sad when daylight disappeared leaving only darkness behind. 

We've been in South America for just one week but already I can feel myself falling in love with our surroundings. If such beauty can be found by chance during a bus journey, I can hardly imagine the wonders we'll discover when we're truly searching.

Wine Dozy in Mendoza

With its endless rows of vineyards and world famous wines, Mendoza seemed like the only sensible place to be for Hana's birthday. Therefore, we left Santiago at midday the previous day and crossed the border into Argentina, finally arriving at our hostel late that evening after a long and windy journey through the Andes.  

Still suffering from jet lag, we were desperate for bed but Erica and I had work to do! Resources were limited but somehow we made Hana's presents presentable using maps and leaflets for wrapping paper and plaited plastic bags as ribbon. Then we blew up her balloons and hid them in a locker, deciding they'd be too much of a temptation for any drunken backpacker coming in late at night. 

The morning began as all birthdays should, by opening presents in bed and scoffing Nutella pancakes. For the rest of the day, however, we'd planned something special; a trip around the Mendoza wine region, visiting three vineyards and testing out their different wines. 

At the first we were given a tour of the winery to learn exactly how the wines are made. Our guide was very informative but he lost his trail rather too often and I couldn't help thinking he probably loved his wine a little too much. His enthusiasm bordered on insanity at times as he marched us around his factory wonderland like an Argentinian Willy Wonka, snapping his fingers and shouting 'vamos!' 

Finally we got to the part we'd really all come for; the tastings! We tried reds and whites, both unfinished and finished, swirling them around in our glasses before taking a swig. The whites were my favourite but we all found at least one red that we liked too. With so many different varieties on offer it would be difficult not to and we found the more we drank, the better it tasted! 

The second bodega was just eight kilometres away, a great distance to cycle even after eight tastings of wine. Though it was another scorching hot day it was really quite pleasant as our path was shaded by the tall trees planted either side. By the time we arrived we'd worked up quite an appetite so we were delighted to find the tables laid out in the garden waiting for us. We dined alfresco with a large platter of bread, cheese and hams, and an accompanying glass of red wine on the side. For the hour that followed we sunbathed out on the lawn, allowing our lunch to go down whilst we waited for the next tour to begin. 

In the second winery we were led down cold, underground cellars which they use to store wine rather than artificial rooms which imitate these conditions. Aside from that it appeared to be very similar to the first which was rather fortunate as I couldn't make out a single word our guide was sayIng. Though she was arguably more sober than our previous Willy Wonka guide, by this point we most certainly were not and so found her accent almost impossible to decipher. Nevertheless, the wine at the tastings spoke for itself and we ended up buying a bottle of our favourite rose to continue the celebrations later on.

Not trusting ourselves to then get back onto bicycles, we joined the rest of our group on a minibus to the third and final winery of the day. Again it was pretty similar to the other two except that the wine produced there is used for religious ceremonies and so it contains more alcohol than most because it's only supposed to be consumed in small sips. However, we've been taught that to truly taste a wine you must take a large gulp at the very least and so we ended the day downing the strongest wines of all. 

Our first hangover hit around seven o'clock. Fortunately, as South Americans share the Spanish tradition of eating late, we managed to squeeze in a quick power nap before dinner. The restaurant was amazing, an authentic Argentinian place recommended by our tour guide from earlier on. We each ordered a humongous steak and then helped Hana polish off her birthday mousse (the next best thing when there's no cake on the menu.)

The next day none of us were able to face any more wineries so we decided instead to see what else Mendoza had to offer. It's a beautiful town with a good scattering of cafés and restaurants but we bought food from the local supermarket instead and took a picnic along to the Square. We thought we'd be safe being miles from the vineyards but even there, wine was difficult to escape! Free tastings were being held in the streets and even the fountains had been tinted pink to look like a giant pool of inviting red.

 The majority of the afternoon was spent in the sunshine at Mendoza Park which would have felt like a lazy day had it not been for the fact that we utilised that time to teach ourselves some Spanish. We've been using phrase books and dictionaries to set each other small tests in the hope that we'll learn enough to get by in these next few months.

It's difficult, but having spent the last three days in Mendoza I now at least have one phrase ingrained into my memory; 'otro vino, por favore!' And that will do for now.