First Impressions of Peru

I hadn't expected to fall so in love with Ecuador, but after just ten days I'd become pretty attached to it as a country. I think for the most part, it was the people who charmed me with their huge, toothless smiles beneath trusty panama hats and long dark plaits which were always weaved with tatty yet colourful threads. But as sad as I was to be leaving Ecuador, I couldn't wait to get to Peru. Ever since arriving in South America back in April, it's been the country I've been most looking forward to. In particular, I was excited to try out all the new foods as my favourite restaurant back in London is Peruvian.

My body, however, had other ideas. The minute we crossed the border, I was smacked in the face (and stomach) with a wave of sickness. Therefore, the most I saw of our first stop, Piura, was the inside of our hotel room and a toilet bowl. Far from my daydreams of tasting exotic flavoured quinoas, I was on a strict diet of water and Ritz crackers for almost forty eight hours. 

Thankfully by the time we caught our next overnight bus, I felt considerably better but the opposite was true for Hana who was slowly turning an unhealthy shade of green. We arrived in Chachapoyas hideously early the next morning and it seemed that unless we all took a day to relax, it would be Erica next and we'd just keep circulating sickness. 

For the sake of some fresh air I took a stroll around town but it was so small that it took me all of about ten minutes. Had it been any larger though, I'm sure I'd have got lost because each block is identical to the next with white painted buildings and black lettered shop signs scrolled across the doorways. Though a very pretty little town, the extent of my discoveries was a local market selling not so fresh fruit, a 'supermarket' that was little more than a higgledy piggledy corner shop and a bakery which sold cake pops (day saved!) Nevertheless, it was enough to allow me to form my first impressions of Peru: tuk tuks, sunshine and super cheap price tags. If I didn't know any better, I'd have thought we were in Asia! 

The reason people visit Chachapoyas is to see the Kuelap ruins a couple of hours outside of town so we booked a bus for the following day. The journey through the mountains was beautiful but slightly terrifying as we wound our way between boulders and potholes with not a curb, but a cliff edge to our side.

The ancient village of Kualep is built at the very top of a mountain with walls which quite remarkably follow the irregularity of the peak. It was once inhabited by Chachapoyans but shows strong evidence of an Incan invasion and influence. Now, thousands of years later, the only life there is llamas. Only the foundations of buildings have survived but historians have studied the area and with a little imagination, our guide helped us to rebuild a mental image of what they might have looked like. The circular homes were relatively large but would house up to seven family members and a whole load of guinea pigs (which is served as a traditional dish in Peru even to this day.) Rather spookily, the houses also acted as cemeteries as families would bury their dead within the grounds of their homes to feel close to them even once they'd passed. The interesting village of Kualep holds a real air of mystery about it as nobody knows for sure the reason why it was deserted all those years ago.

So far Peru has been wonderful but very different to how I expected. However, we're heading to the capital next which is likely to give a more wholesome view of the country than the tiny town of Chachapoyas.

Ruta de las Cascadas, Baños

Oddly, Baños shares its name with the Spanish word for toilet but that's as far as the comparison goes. This small town up in the mountains is squeaky clean to appeal to the thousands of tourists who flock there every week. The town itself was a little too touristy for my liking, with 'I Heart Baños' merchandise displayed garishly in every shop window. However, the surrounding area boasts some of Ecuador's most beautiful waterfalls so it was still worth a stop.

Keen to get a closer look at the falls, we hired mountain bikes and cycled the eighteen kilometre Ruta de las Cascadas. We saw dozens along the way but made three main stops, at Cascada Agoyán, Rio Blanco and Rio Verde. 

Cascada Agoyán is quite remarkable because it's actually two waterfalls which collide together to cause double the calamity of crashes below. The local people have done all they can to capitalise on the tourism of the area, building cable cars, zip lines, bungees and all sorts else from the cliff edges facing the falls. One could argue that its destroyed the natural beauty of these wonders but at the same time, it enhanced our experience by allowing us to view them from all kinds of angles and closer in. For just $1.50 we jumped on a rickety old gondola which took us right up over and then into the falls. 

A little further along we came to Rio Blanco which again, was littered with different activities to do. This time Hana and I opted for a tandem zip line across the canyon, god knows how many metres above the river. As we were strapped into a superman position with fraying ropes and rusty clips, I have to admit I was bricking it a little. It's the kind of thing that wouldn't scare me at all at home, but in somewhere like Ecuador, you just never know. Tres, dos, uno, and we were off! Luckily the line was pretty long which gave us enough time to get over the initial shock and actually enjoy the incredible sensation of gliding through the air. It was an amazing view and an even better experience, all for just $7 when we'd have paid ten times that amount in Australia or New Zealand.

Our day ended in Rio Verde where we stopped for a late lunch before finding our final waterfall. Following the recommendation of a girl at our hostel, we sought out the 'Empanada Lady' and tried one of her chocolate and cheese combos. It's the first sweet empanada I've had and I think the outer casing was more doughy than pastry but whatever it was, it tasted delicious.

Cascada El Diablo was a forty-five minute walk from the town, deep down into the canyon. Along the way we passed a couple of stalls selling Jugo Cana, a South American juice made from pure sugar cane which made the perfect pick me up for our aching legs. When we finally arrived we woke right up, to the most powerful waterfall I think I've ever seen (Iguazu aside.) By crawling between the boulders up the mountain side, we could reach the very top of the fall and even stand behind the stream of water. We traipsed home completely soaked but it was so much fun! 

The Long Loop by Foot, Quilotoa to Sigchos

Having spent so much time on buses recently, it was refreshing to learn that for our next few destinations, we could simply walk. Simple, however, was not the word. This thirty-eight kilometre, three day hike, though incredibly enjoyable, was really hard. 

Our epic journey began in Quilotoa, at a beautiful canyon lake 3,500 metres above sea level. The calm water perfectly reflected the bright blue sky, sparkling in the rays on this clear, sunny morning. Captured in a photograph, this would have seemed like a pleasant day but in reality, an intense wind tore through our clothing, turning any inner warmth into ice. At our most exposed out on the crater's rim, it was so strong that we felt we might be carried away. For the first time ever I was rather glad to have the extra five kilos strapped to my back.

Within half an hour, we'd taken a wrong turn and found ourselves sliding through desert sand. Within another half hour, we realised our written instructions, though extremely detailed were entirely wrong. Very occasionally we'd come across a landmark which vaguely matched a description in our directions (i.e. 'a worn out bridge' meaning a few logs thrown across a river) but that only made it more confusing when we then trudged along for miles recognising nothing. Sometimes we'd spot human tracks which gave us hope (noticeably always hiking boots as opposed to our worse for wear trainers) but these fairly quickly faded to dust. Of course, if we ever passed an actual human we'd stop and ask for help but we saw more pigs than people all day. 

With no real conviction that we were going in the right direction, we wandered aimlessly through the Ecuadorian countryside. However, it was so beautiful every way we turned that it was difficult to care where we ended up. For four and a half hours we continued trekking, passing through the mountains, down the canyons and up the cliff faces on the other side. 

By blind chance, we eventually found civilisation (if that's what you can call a handful of houses and a cheese factory) and stopped for the night in Chugchilan. Whilst the majority of this tiny village consisted of mud huts and concrete shacks, the hostel was actually very nice with some of the cleanest facilities we've seen in the whole of South America. As there were no restaurants or shops nearby, they fed us too which was an added bonus. In fact, it would have been near perfect were it not for the fact that the power cut out midway through the evening and we were forced to eat and find our way back to bed in pitch black darkness. By candlelight, our cute little log cabin transformed into the creepy set of a horror film and we couldn’t wait until morning. 

We woke the next day with aching legs and blistered feet but buzzing for the next part of our journey. Ahead of us was another five hour hike but this time the path seemed rather more obvious, the wind had completely dropped and for the first half at least, it was entirely downhill. I was just beginning to gloat about how lovely a walk this was when we passed an elderly Ecuadorian lady struggling along, carrying two large cardboard boxes in a shawl across her shoulders. We didn’t need to speak the same language to understand that she could really use some help and by the time we realised how heavy the boxes were they were already in our hands. Whilst the additional weight made our next hour pretty challenging, it appeared to make her entire day. Once we eventually arrived at her house, she thanked us with home grown oranges but the real reward was her beaming smile. 

The minute we dropped the boxes and the ache in my arms began to fade, my attention turned to the burning sensation in my feet. It was all of a sudden excruciating to take a single step and I resorted to biting the insides of my lip to try and distract myself from the dominant pain. An hour or so later though, when my lips were red raw and my heels still stinging, I was forced to lose my trainers completely.  It felt like a great idea at first as I bounded through the grassy terrain with the freedom of bare feet but it soon turned marshy and I was faced with the unpleasant dilemma of choosing between wading through mud or sludgy cow pat.  At one particularly spectacular moment, this choice was taken out of my hands as I fell backwards from a rock, ending up shin deep in shit. 

Fortunately, we weren’t then too far from Isinlivi, the next village where we planned to stay the night. The hostel here was even nicer than in Chugchilan with amazing meals and the most beautiful view out across the valleys. Exhausted, we head to bed early after bursting our blisters and reflecting on what an interesting afternoon we had had.  

The third and final day was by far the most difficult. Even the thought of putting my trainers back on made me want to cry (but equally, so did the idea of being covered in shit again.) To make matters worse, we took a wrong turn almost immediately after setting off and so sent ourselves on a detour of a good few extra kilometres. Once we had veered away from the instructions it was tricky to get back on track, particularly as they had barely made sense to start with. On numerous occasions, we were adamant that we must be following the wrong route (namely when we were crawling under barbed wire, fighting through prickly bushes and clambering up sheer rock faces) but in each instance we failed to see another way. The only time we really stopped was when Han fell over and got a thorn stuck in her bum, but that was less to assess the navigational situation, more to inspect the wound and recover from my giggling fit.  

Three hours on, we passed a one-eyed man with a machete who insisted he walk with us for some of the way. When our Spanish small talk ran out and he eventually left, he told us that we only had about an hour to go which felt like the best news we’d had all year. From that moment on, we could stop focusing on our feet and instead take in the beauty of our surroundings once again. The Ecuadorian hills are absolutely stunning; like an intricate patchwork quilt stitched with every shade of green imaginable, and with a sky in the background so blue that it could put Instagram out of business.  They truly were some of the best views of our entire trip. 

Finally in a rather dreamy state, we set eyes on our end desintation, Sigchos. The whole trek was extremely difficult but what I found even more difficult was believing just how much we had achieved throughout it. To walk thirty-eight kilometres is pretty impressive anyway, but with our dodgy instructions and distinct lack of hiking equipment, it felt like nothing short of a miracle and we were overwhelmed to have made it. 

Quito Capital and Climbing Cotopaxi

Quito was not a city which had been recommended to us but anywhere that serves hot chocolate with cheese as their speciality is an absolute winner in my eyes. In fact, even after taking their weird but wonderful cuisine out of the equation, we still found the capital of Ecuador to be well worth a visit.

Aside from the area surrounding the hostels (which is worryingly similar to Malia) Quito is actually very pretty, full of spectacular old buildings and well kept parks. We spent our first morning there exploring the old town and making the very most of how cheap everything is. By chance, we stumbled across a music festival with street vendors selling giant plates of food for just $2 each. How could we possibly not like this place? 

Later that day we caught the cable car up Pichincha Volcano to view the whole of Quito from above. It was surprising to see the contrast between the cluttered city centre and the expansive green space in the hills which surround it. From every angle it looked fantastic, and we'd have liked to have stayed there to watch sunset but an inconveniently timed football match demanded our attention. 

Not wanting to miss out on the World Cup action, we found a bar with a big screen playing the England game. There are few Brits out here compared to the rest of South America but enough to still create an awesome atmosphere. That said, I find it hard enough to follow football anyway and with the commentary in Spanish it was practically impossible. All I know is that by the end of the game, my Italian half was feeling rather more prominent.

One of our best discoveries about Quito was that Cotopaxi, the world's largest active volcano, is sat on its doorstep and so on our second morning we woke up early to tackle this trek. The bus was supposed to drop us at the National Park but as we were the only tourists aboard, the driver decided to dump as at the side of the road instead. Therefore, our hike started a little earlier than expected with a good hour's walk to the park entrance. Fortunately, it was a beautifully sunny day so we were able to view it as an additional pleasant stroll and a good warm up before the hard work began.

Once at the entrance, however, we learnt that the start of the trek was still another forty minutes away...by car. No matter which way we looked at it, we were not walking that so found a 4x4 which came fully equipped with an English speaking guide who'd take us to the top. We were lucky in that our guide, Carlos, was an absolute legend. He explained in detail the history of the volcano and continued to chat to us the whole way up which was great as we're yet to meet many Ecuadorians. Over the course of the journey, we learnt all sorts, from the country's current political situation, to his son's favourite subject at school. In fact, the only topic he didn't cover was the trek and how bloody hard it would be!

Whilst engrossed in conversation, we'd barely noticed the thick mist beginning to creep up around us. By the time we reached the start of the path, we could see nothing but a blank sheet of white out of either window. It seemed our beautiful sunny day had been overcome with cloud at the worst possible point. 

Before long though we realised the cloud was the least of our worries. At 15,000 feet high, it was bitterly cold and the wind was so intense that we were being thrown from side to side with no control over our own direction. Horizontal hail then tore into our faces as we fought to keep our hoods up and shield our eyes. Wrapped up in five layers of clothing, it was impossible to believe that we'd been hot an hour earlier wearing just one. We wanted to cover our entire faces too but the altitude was making it difficult to breathe and we needed to leave our airways clear. It really wasn't terribly enjoyable but after coming all that way, the only option was up. 

I felt the snow before I saw it, as the wind dropped for a fleeting moment and I face-planted into it. The only way to even attempt to move forwards had been to lean with my full weight into the gale, but once it withdrew its support I instantly fell. My numb fingers winced at the icy white surface but it was at least a good indicator that we were almost there.

I'd been concentrating so hard on not being thrown off the edge that the return of the blue sky took me quite by surprise. It was still a little hazy but at our highest point of almost 16,000 feet, we could just make out the vivid red volcano standing out amongst the otherwise perfectly green landscape. As always, the sense of achievement was amazing and we flew back down the hill with the help of the wind now behind us and the snow allowing us to ski rather than step most of the way. 

On the drive back to the start, the sky totally cleared and so for the first time since arriving we saw the snowcapped summit of Cotopaxi. It looked stunning in the sunshine and it was as though this image was our reward for our hard work. Back in Quito though, the rewards continued: hot chocolates with marshmallows and nutella waffles! It was Treat Sunday, after all. 

The Long Road to Ecuador

I love rollercoasters, but imagine being on one for eighteen hours straight. The roads leading out of Medellin were so windy and bumpy that it felt just like a fairground ride, only we weren't strapped in. There's really only so much head banging and stomach lurching your body can take, especially when it's the middle of the night and you're supposed to be sleeping. 

We'd already spent as many nights on a bus as in a bed this week so decided to break up our journey slightly by stopping off in Pasto, a town in the very South of Colombia. From there, we caught a bus to Ipiales on the border but before hopping over and beginning our next adventure in Ecuador, we had one more place we needed to tick off.

Las Lajas Cathedral is a basilica church built deep between the valleys in the beautiful Colombian hills. Surrounded by natural waterfalls and white figure angels, it appears almost ethereal and not too dissimilar from something you'd find in Rivendell (though I had just watched Lord of the Rings for the zillionth time.) We were pleased to find this beauty replicated inside, with intricate stained glass windows and crystal chandeliers. The high ceilings are painted white with gold finishings, giving the grand church a unique and natural light.

It was a stunning stop off and the perfect end to an amazing ten days in Colombia. The onward journey to Quito was nothing short of epic but at least in the daylight we had the gorgeous scenery to distract us and from what we've seen of Ecuador so far, it was definitely worth the effort.

A Real Look at Medellin

Our first impressions of Medellin were pretty awful. Within minutes of arriving we'd experienced one drugged up nutter running around our hostel room screaming to himself whilst another was being rushed to hospital having stopped breathing after choking on his own vomit. We were forced to question what kind of place we'd come to and we only had one day to find out.

Generally we've strayed away from tourist trips but friends had recommended the free city walking tour and with such a short amount of time to explore by ourselves, it seemed to make sense to sign up. Our guide, Hernan, was born and bred in Medellin and was absolutely brilliant. It was great to see the city through the eyes of a local and to discover where's really best to grab the tastiest buñuelos or the most refreshing guarapo. 

The tour was called a 'Real City Tour' with the emphasis on 'Real.' Over the course of four hours, Hernan led us to not only the nicest parts of town, but also the worst; those which hadn't made an appearance in our Lonely Planet guides. One of my favourite sites was Plaza Botero where Latin America's most famous artist has displayed his disproportionate statues. With the Rafael Uribe Palace chequered black and white in the background, it looks like a scene plucked straight from Alice in Wonderland; bizarre but beautiful. 

Immediately afterwards, we followed Hernan to the Church of the True Cross which is nowadays a popular hangout for prostitutes, or 'love providers' as he chose to call them. Typically Colombians try to hide any signs of their dark history but Hernan was keen to reveal them all so we could see for ourselves that they're now not so bad. Yes, there are places such as the above where you'd be wise to wear your backpack on your front, but is the same not true in London? Hernan continually emphasised that Colombia's reputation is much worse than its current reality and that the number of good people far outweigh the bad. 

Reflecting back upon our last ten days here I can honestly say I believe him. Almost every Colombian we've met has been overly helpful and done everything within their power to ensure we have a safe and enjoyable trip. In fact, the only unsavoury characters we've encountered have been the coke heads in our hostel and they were British! As Hernan explained, the people of Colombia are desperate to show the world that their country has more to offer then just cocaine and are working hard to rewrite their history.

Speaking of which, Hernan spent a good hour or so giving us an in depth history lesson on the Colombian Conflict and how the drug cartels came to control the country. Their story is one full of pain and suffering but it's the Colombian way to forget and move on. Look around you. Do these faces reflect the story I've just told? He then shared with us their secret to happiness: a selective memory. Whilst they attempt to erase their painful past, they will never forget their moments of happiness. For example, most Colombians will speak very little of the war, but ask them of that one time in 1990 when Colombia tied with Germany in the Fifa World Cup, and they'll have a tape of the match ready to show to you. 

Hernan described snippets like this as branches of hope for a country that has for a long time been sinking into a gloomy swamp. Thanks to the people and their incredible determination to hold tight to these branches, Colombia has kept its head above the water even if the rest of it has been sucked beneath the surface. It's a simple analogy but his delivery reduced me to tears and he finished the tour on an inspirational note. If we Colombians can find it within ourselves to be happy, why can't everyone? We're alive, right? Why isn't that enough? There's no doubt that Colombia still has a lot of problems but they're continually working on improving their situation through homeless and rehabilitation shelters, social architecture, security schemes and more. And they're doing it all with a smile on their face.

The Walled City, Cartagena

Within the grand, stone walls of Cartagena sits one of the most beautiful cities in the whole of South America. The pretty streets are cobbled and lined either side with pastel painted buildings in pinks, purples, yellows and blues. Many boast luxurious looking overhanging balconies which are smothered in flowers to compliment the colour of the walls. Even the sky plays its part in this picture, turning lilac at dusk once the sun begins to fall.

Initially we were stunned and simply wandered through the city, admiring the beauty found around each and every corner. However, it didn't take us long to realise that something felt seriously wrong. It's all too pristine, too plush and ultimately too perfect to be South American. Despite the quaint, old architecture, it lacks an air of authenticity, feeling instead as though it has been designed for tourists who may leave Colombia believing it's all about high end restaurants and ice cream cafés. I imagine that's what the tourist office would like us to believe but upon closer inspection the cracks begin to show; telltale signs of the real world beyond the walls. Picture it like a movie set; brand new and beautiful from within, but take one step outside and you see the ugly construction which lies behind. 

Though the truth can indeed be ugly at times, I'd argue that the real Colombia is far more fascinating and has much more to offer than this contained little toy town. Cartagena is a beautiful place for tourists seeking a luxury holiday but for travellers wanting to learn about the culture of the country, it leaves a lot left unsaid.

The Caribbean Coast, Colombia

Colombia's Caribbean Coast is eighteen hours North of Bogotá and at least eighteen degrees hotter. At an average temperature of thirty-six, it was the kind of heat that's only bearable if you're constantly within a few metres of cold water; either to drink, or dive into, or both. Or, of course, if you're Colombian and can happily walk around in jeans and a jumper in the middle of the day without breaking a sweat.

Our first stop, Santa Marta, had a lot going for it; year round sunshine, delicious street food markets and pretty little lanes with hundreds of hidden gem cafés. It will also forever be remembered as the place where we finally got our hands on fried ice cream (which was every bit worth the wait.) In fact, the only part of this Colombian beach town which I found slightly disappointing was the beach itself! Having been to the Caribbean, I was expecting perfect white sand and crystal clear water but the coastline in Santa Marta was a murky grey.

Fortunately, we heard whispers of a nearby National Park called Tayrona and here, we found the paradise we'd been hoping for. A three hour trek through the forest brought us to the most beautiful bays on the other side where colourful parrots flitted between palm trees and green tailed lizards darted around below. From the top of the peninsular a Colombian flag stood proudly, demanding recognition as it rustled in the breeze. Then turning our attention to the turquoise water, we gazed out in admiration as it glistened in the sunshine, inviting us in to enjoy our prize. The shallow water was warm on our skin, but after hours of enduring the blistering heat it felt as refreshing as an ice cold plunge pool. 

Having gone through the effort of finding this paradise, it only made sense that we allow ourselves time to enjoy it properly. Luckily, there were a couple of camping grounds along the beach with hammocks where we could stay for the night. After watching the sunset and wandering back beneath the stars, we swayed to sleep to the sounds of singing crickets and crashing waves. It couldn't have been more idealistically perfect. 

Realistically, however, hammocks aren't all that comfortable. Not for an entire night, anyway. We woke up aching far more than we should have, even after taking yesterday's trek into consideration. Nevertheless, we'd already made the decision to take the difficult route back; a one hour walk along the beach followed by a four and a half hour hike over the mountain in the jungle. We'd also decided that an epic journey required an epic breakfast so made a beeline for next door's bakery. By bakery, I mean an outdoor stone oven with a wooden 'Panaderia' sign nailed to the nearest tree. There was no menu; it was only 'pan', but this particular pan voided the need for any other options. The Colombian baker called it Pan Chocolate but I feel a more appropriate name would have been Heaven In A Basket. It was genuinely one of the best warm treats I've ever tasted and set us up well for the day.

Even still, the way back was incredibly hard. With the sea out of sight, the first hour along the sand felt like an endless desert which scalded our feet with every step. We distracted ourselves with the beauty of our surroundings which we likened to the set of Jurassic Park. The mountains, trees, streams and boulders all looked so perfect that we felt they had to be fake. If a giant t-rex had come storming through the bushes, we probably wouldn't have even battered an eyelid. We really needed to get some water...

Thankfully the sand led us straight to a beach bar where we grabbed a cold drink along with one last look at our paradise bay before starting the upwards climb through the jungle. The route was so poorly marked out that it became quite funny. At times, we were literally on our hands and knees, crawling under boulders with the backs of our bags scraping against the stone. The next minute we'd come to a vertical cliff face and have to devise some sort of acrobatic stunt system to move on. The first should have a leg up, the second an arm and leg up, and the third will just have to be yanked brutally from above. It was like an obstacle course for adults; an exotic crystal maze, and we focused on the fun to mask the pain.

Regardless of our efforts, we'd made one massive mistake in naïvely assuming that the peak would be the midpoint; that after two hours of climbing, we should start to descend. Such was not the case, and when we were still clambering upwards at three hours gone, I feared a meltdown may be on the cards (quite literally with that heat still hammering down.) The further we trudged, the lizards grew bigger, the butterflies brighter and our water bottles once again alarmingly light. The first sign of a complaint was on the tip of my tongue when we crossed two natives from the indigenous village deep within the jungle: a man and a woman following the same route in reverse but in barefoot and carrying bundles of firewood. As she passed we noticed the woman had a child strapped to her back, hanging from a hairpiece which was tied around her head. I realised then, we were in no position to moan. At least at the end of this, there would be ice lollies waiting for us. 

And there were! Ice lollies with a sense of achievement on the side; that immense feeling of accomplishment that keeps us coming back to these challenging tasks. Tayrona Park was an unforgettable experience, made even more special by its exclusivity to those truly committed to discovering its beauty. We were thankful to return to a normal bed that night but with the images of our paradise still fresh for our dreams. 

Breathless In Bogotá

There are many places we've visited over the past year which have taken our breath away, but none quite so literally as Bogotá. Set 2,640 metres above sea level, the altitude in the Colombian capital was very difficult to adjust to, leaving us rather short of air.
The city is bursting with museums and we'd planned to see as many as possible but after traipsing around just one, we were forced to head back, feeling sick and light headed. Unfortunately, we didn't choose the best one either. Though 'The Gold Museum' sounds glamorous, we didn't learn anything except that seeing one room full of golden artefacts is the same as seeing one hundred.

The route back to the hostel was a pretty one. Away from the main roads, Bogotá is full of of charm; the kind you'd expect from a small village, not a city. The narrow lanes are unevenly cobbled and the terraced buildings distinguish their boundaries with vibrant paints, a different colour to their neighbours'. Some have even used the walls of their home as a blank canvas for street art masterpieces. It was still early afternoon when we arrived back at the hostel but a few hours later, we were already in bed; the combination of the long journey the previous day, very slight jet lag and everything we were doing seeming to take ten times as much effort. The following day, we woke early to see the city from the Monsserate viewpoint in the morning light. At a further 2,350 metres upwards, most people opt for the cable car or train to take them to the top but we decided to walk; stupid really, considering I was still out of breath just from climbing the three runged ladder of my bunk bed. It would have been a challenging hike even in perfect health but with our light heads and heavy chests, it was near impossible. We had to stop for breath every few steps whilst dozens of Colombians overtook us with piteous smiles. It was pretty frustrating to feel so useless and I wished we could have worn signs on our heads saying: 'Not Unfit, Not Used to Altitude!' An hour and a half later we'd made it though and we were so happy with ourselves, we quite literally felt on top of the world. From the peak of this hill we could see the whole of Bogotá and we were shocked to see its full size. We'd been staying in the centre which felt tiny for a capital city but the suburbs spread for miles and miles. It seemed a shame at this point that we didn't have time to explore the city more but we'd booked a bus for that afternoon. However, we did have a couple of hours left in which to squeeze in a well deserved lunch so practically ran down the hill, straight into a cute and quirky restaurant café. It's common in Colombia for eateries to offer set lunches which are even better value than their regular menu. We barely understood what the set dishes were but we were feeling adventurous and figured that with three courses and a drink for the equivalent of £2.50, we couldn't really go wrong! Luckily it was just as delicious as it was cheap.

From what I've seen so far, I like Colombia a lot but I'm looking forward to discovering more of the country, this time at sea level on the Caribbean Coast!

One of a Kind, Rio de Janeiro

Rio de Janeiro is unlike any other city I have ever seen. Whilst there's nothing unique in its high rise buildings and busy roads, there is something enormously special in the green hills which break up the otherwise sea of concrete and stone. These giant mounds look so out of place and yet they make the place all at the same time. 

My mum and I actually stayed high up on one of the hills in a gorgeous little pousada in Botafogo. Though it was quite the climb, it offered a peaceful haven away from the hectic city streets whilst providing an incredible view out across them.

For the very best views, however, we had to go even higher; 2,300 feet to be exact, to where Christ the Redeemer has shotgunned the top spot. This stone monument is named as one of the Seven Wonders of the World and whilst he's pretty awe-inspiring in terms of his size and stature, the scene he stares down upon is arguably more impressive. We'd chosen a completely clear day for our visit so the conditions were perfect for viewing the breathtaking fusion between the natural and manmade worlds beneath us. It's as though a cosmopolitan city has collided with an exotic Caribbean island and created Rio.

Unable to get enough of this picture, we later caught the cable car up to Rio's second highest view point on Sugar Loaf Hill. We'd planned it carefully so that we reached the top just in time to see the sun set behind the mountains. Shadows soon took over the sky but the landscape beneath it glowed brighter than ever. We stood and watched as thousands of tiny golden lights appeared through the darkness, sparkling as though someone had sprinkled glitter across the city. It was mesmerising that this scene which was so beautiful by day could be even more amazing by night.

The following morning we decided to keep our heads out of the clouds and take a closer look at Rio on ground level. We started at the infamous Copacobana beach which was buzzing with Brazilians and their naked bums. It's a fabulous stretch of sand that seems to emanate happiness though it's difficult to put a finger on why. Perhaps it's the people, who love nothing more than to spend their Saturday basking in the sunshine with an ice cold caipirinha and a handful of friends. It's certainly not a bad way to live.

Once satisfied that Erica had turned a decent shade of pink, we left the beach and made our way to Lapa in search of the Escadaria Selaron. They weren't difficult to find! Covered from top to bottom in brightly coloured painted tiles, this staircase is an artistic masterpiece. Sadly the artist responsible passed away a few years back but even the controversy shrouding his death can't taint the magnificence of his life's work. Through the combination of vibrant colour and sketchy impressionism, Selaron's steps have truly encapsulated the spirit of Brazil and it's just beautiful. 

Despite how hard we tried to ignore it, time had been ticking away for my mum and she was due to fly back to London that evening. We spent the last couple of hours together comfort eating empanadas and reminiscing over what an amazing time we've had. I'm so happy that she got to be a part of this experience and can now see how and why we love what we're doing. For me, it was like having all the home comforts I've missed throughout the year shipped out to me at once. It's true that home really is where the heart is, and for the last eight days mine had relocated to Brazil. 

Not only did I have to say goodbye to my mum, but also the flashpacker lifestyle which had come along with it. Nothing says welcome back to hostel life like an ice cold shower and a crazy girl in our dorm room snorting cocaine. Luckily there was also a round of caipirinhas and a fake bottle of Smirnoff waiting for me downstairs so with the excuse of drowning my sorrows, we got right on it. 

Lapa Square was just a short walk from our hostel and we met plenty of others as merry as us, ordering cocktails from the market stalls and dancing in the street. Whisked away with the crowds, we soon found ourselves in the middle of a dance circle in an underground hip hop club which looked like my garage. The locals were pulling out all the stops to battle it out in the dancefloor, with one guy even getting a unicycle involved. Obviously we had a go and then stumbled back to the hostel before they could play Soulja Boy for a second time. 

Brazil has exceeded all of my expectations and we've only just scratched the surface. It's such a huge country with so much still to explore but I feel like I'm already in love with those people and places I've not yet seen. One day I'll come back to prove that theory but for now it's goodbye Brazil, I'm off to Colombia!