Dr. Evil vs. the Pyramids in Trujillo

The Mancora DTs broke somewhere around 4am leaving me enough time to remove my neighbour´s elbow from my ear and enjoy the sunrise view from the bus. I stumbled
off the bus in Trujillo and found somewhere to imbibe a litre of coffee and half a meter of sandwich. I was planning on staying here for a day or two, but after half an hour walking around re-decided and bought a ticket for that night to Huaraz.

So with 14 LONG hours to kill and feeling like an extra in a Joy Division video I set about doing the tourist thing, which is quite tricky when you are into your 2nd day of hangover. Before embarking on it I went to the central market and got a pint of carrot juice. It must be bad for me to drink carrot juice. But the trip proved to be worthwhile, Chan Chan and especially the Huaca del Luna (and Sol) being very impressive. The Huacas are stuck in the suburbs of Trujillo they come at you out of nowhere. A couple of hundred meters to the left a man is watering his back garden, to the right there is a hundred meter high 1000 year old pyramid. Odd. I started enjoying the whole thing but the enjoyment was short lived as one of the people on the tour was a rather fat, loud, and obviously gay Belgian. I mean how many disadvantages can one man have? He resembled a fat Dr. Evil with hair and thought his funny comments about dusty walls were side splitting. My evil eye trick didn't work either so I just grinned pleasantly like a perfume counter girl.



That done and Belgian lost, I withdrew to an internet cafe for a couple of hours before going for a Chinese. Strange as it may seem, Chinese cuisine is big in Peru, with a large Chinese community cooking up a storm. I wasn't to be disappointed and was served up a chicken stir fry that resembled the dimensions of the Huaca del Sol. It was literally a mountain of food on a plate. I hadn't eaten all day and gave it my very best, but left defeated, with half of it still on the plate staring lewdly at me.

So, without having seen a bed since yesterday morning, I board the bus to Huaraz.

Mental in Mancora

I finally made it to Mancora after a long day with at least 3 busses in Ecuador and a brief night's sleep in the border town of Tumbes.

The town seemed quite grubby and dusty at first, situated directly along the Panamerican highway, but with a decent beach and some waves going on. I wandered around looking for a place to stay (thinking I would only stay a day or two) and finally happened upon Loki. I had heard legendary things from my cousin Allanah who had stayed in the Loki in Cusco, so decided to chance my luck and check in.

5 days later I stumbled out and crawled on to a night bus heading somewhere as far away as possible before my liver left me.

Yes, Loki is one of those hostels that parties 24/7, a bar tab system ensuring that you need no cash, an inhouse restaurant ensuring you need not leave the place for food and a swimming pool to ensure that you don't have to brave the chilly waves. They have thought of everything. The owners mainly being a group of Irish lads and an Israeli who set up the first one in Cusco in 2005. They now own 4 - Cusco, Lima, La Paz and Mancora and they are definitely on to a winning recipe.

Travelling 101; #3: Diarrhea

They say there are only 2 absolute certanties in life - paying taxes and death. I would like another one to the lis - travellers diarrhea. Yes Delhi Belly, Gyppy Tummy, Montezumas revenge, the trots, the squirts, etc. Just like an Irish winter they are wet, unpleasant, long and unpredictable. At one time you can have a piece of bread and get it, at other times you can down raw seafood and be fine.

My weirdest experience was arriving off the plane in Thailand and having imbibed NOTHING but a bottle of coke all day and I still got Bangkok Belly. It varies in viscosity (which I believe is the correct term) from slightly soft ice cream to full on "I am actually peeing from my arse". Its duration is also a mystery - sometimes it passes quickly (in one sitting, so to speak), sometimes it plagues you for weeks - in fact the entire 4 weeks I was in Cambodia it followed me round like a stray dog.

But like a slight bodily imparement, you soon get used to it. The only time it is mildly worrying is when you have a 12 hour bus journey ahead of you and your stomach is already gurgling as you board the bus, but then again it just ads to the excitement - Delhi Routlette if you will.

Watching the whales in Puerto Lopez

Back from the Galapagos I made it to Puerto Lopez late at night and checked into a very nice hostel called the Sol Inn.
The next morning it was up early to hop in a small boat and check for some whales. They were definitely there but they weren't doing the whole jumping out of the water thing. Instead they just lurked and came up for a squizz and a purge of the blow hole every so often.
But here's a picture of what it should like, you'd swear they were trained to do it at sunset. But despite the lack of playful whales we motored on out to the Isla de la Plata which is like a mini Galapagos, replete with boobies and other marine life.

And that brought Ecuador to a very pleasant close, all pictures here

Galapagos TV

Rather than describe how wonderful this place was I decided to do it David Attenborough stylee and make some videos...








But some highlights in brief:
* Walking to the beautiful Tortuga bay on Santa Cruz and discovering that marine iguanas come in large too. A real live dinosaur just slithering and grunting down the beach.
* Minutes later walking around a cliff to see my first booby (blue) just sitting there looking at me. Even at a meter away he didn't budge.
* Arriving in Isabella harbour to see penguins, Manta rays and white tipped sharks just swimming around the boats in crystal clear waters.
* Snorkelling in a lagoon on Isabella and meeting a lone seal. Extremely playful we swam abou together for ages before he picked up a seashell from the sea bed, swam up to the surface and let it drop. It took me a while to get what he was doing but it was nothing more than a game of fetch. I would swim down and get the shell and drop it for him, where he would catch it just before it reached the bottom.
* The omnipresence of seals on San Cristobal. Having to tip toe over a beach filled with seals to get home at night was always fun.
* The beaches of Isabela - just gorgeous.
* Meeting a real live giant[ish] tortoise on Isabela just walking down the road.

Travelling 101; #2: The Chicken Bus

Millions of American and Canadian children have no idea that one day the bus seats they occupy on their way to school will probably be graced by chickens, pigs, motorbikes and lots of women in bowler hats. As the humble yellow school bus (normally made by bluebird I have come to learn) comes to the end of its natural life in North America it is shipped or driven down by the busload to Central America where it is stripped of any useful electronics, painted in psychadelic colours, given some go faster spoilers and liberally decorated with pictures of the Virgin Mary, Jesus, Che & the entire Barcelona football team (in that order of popularity). Sometimes the drivers go for slogans such as "Solo Dios sabe mi destino" which can either be translated as "Only God knows my destiny" or the much cooler "Only God knows my destination". Love a bus driver that relies on divine intervention to get to the right bus stop.

These busses then roll out and connect the tiniest of Central American villages. They really are the lifeblood of many a C. American town - without them nobody would be going anywhere in countries where car ownership is still a privilege only the upper classes can contemplate.

These chariots stop anywhere - all you do is stick your arm out somewhere vaguely near the road (or even up a side street where the conductors with eyes in the sides of their heads will spot people legging it from miles away). This can be slightly frustrating though as the lack of bus stops means that 5 people standing all separately 10 meters away from each other will all halt the bus, in fact moseying towards a bus that is slowing down is most definitely frowned upon. Customer is definitely king here and the conductor is a legend. I have seen them lift on a pack of children at the same time, take 10 shopping bags off a woman and even seen one conductor lift an old granny on by lifting her up under her arms. The concept that a bus wouldn't stop and let somebody on is unimaginable here, space will always been made (normally by women putting all 6 children on their lap, Chinese acrobatic displays don't even get close) and there is always time. Not like the German tram drivers that I have seen close the door on many a huffing and puffing grandmother's face.



The busses also transport any item imagineable, it is funny to read the old school signs prohibiting food when the man beside you has 3 chickens tied up between his legs. In my time I have seen, besides the obligatory chickens, ducks, dogs,a couple of goats, a moped, a plasma TV, a monkey, a pig and quite recently 2 armchairs, a 2 seater sofa and a three seater being transported.

In many countries, El Salvador being the one to come most to mind, the chicken bus is the favourite target of street vendors who hop on and off plying their wares to a captive audience. Anything from cold drinks to fruit, from doughnuts to chicken on a stick are offered (screamed) at the passengers. Even if the bus is completely packed with people, standing choc-a-block in the aisle, the vendors will still weave & dodge their way down the aisle and back. Slightly more annoying than the common or garden vendor is the snake oil salesman who you can spot a mile away. They get on with a large backpack / suitcase and stand at the front. They then clear their throats loudly and start off by wishing everybody a most wonderful trip on this perfect day and that this little interruption will only last a minute before everybody can return to their fantastic journey.

They then kick off a 20 minute rehearsed speech selling their wares, whether they be CDs, DVDs, health books or even fucking etch a sketches (still the rage over here).

But all in all the chicken bus is an institution and there is never a dull moment on one. The tube will never be the same again.

Baddest English of the week competition #18

Continuing on the scatalogical here a sign in the Galapagos. I must admit when I first read it my pulse started to quicken and I had the most wonderful of erotic thoughts. A steamy room and in the middle a massive bath filled to the brim with lovely latinas.

The reality was probably somewhat more disappointing...

Cosmopolitan vs. Men's Health

Time to kill in Guayaquil airport so the bar being closed (well it was 6am) I headed for the bookshop. My interest was immediately piqued by a Cosmopolitan headline which proclaimed "50 sex tricks to keep your man interested". The sub-title was "We bet no-one was naughty enough to try #43 on him!".
Say no more, so on I flicked excitedly to page 30.

"#43: During foreplay, take one of your make-up brushes out and start stroking his inner thigh and his balls with it".

Now honestly, if any woman tried this on me, the makeup brush would be forceably introduced to her nostril. It is quite obvious that it was not a man that wrote this article...

And there and then in Guayaquil airport it struck me that men's and women's magazines are practically identical.

Cosmopolitan Headline: 10 new diets to purge the pounds
Men's Health Headline: Great abs guaranteed

Cosmopolitan Headline: 50 ways to get thin quick
Men's Health Headline: Iron hard abs in 2 minutes a day

Cosmopolitan Headline: Yes it's true: The chocolate diet revealed
Men's Health Headline: Perfect abs whilst eating crisps on your sofa

Cosmopolitan Headline: 20 new sex tricks to keep him happy
Men's Health Headline: 20 new sex tricks to keep her happy

Which goes to prove that all those SPAM mails I get are there for a reason. We are all terribly bad in bed (and men are too small and can't get it up) and incredibly overweight...

Travelling 101; #1: The Electric Shower

Herewith a new series of posts to introduce you to some of the finer elements of travelling. Today we shall start with an old traveller's favourite.

The electric shower, aka "the suicide shower" or "the hippy killer" is an implement of torture well known to any traveller in Latin America. It being a continent not known for cold (except for the extreme south and the altiplano), South America has not really had a long love affair with hot water. Correspondingly the idea of having a ready supply of hot water to purge the gringo body of all sorts of dust and detrius is foreign to most households down here. The hostals that have realised that hot water is a valuable competitive advantage have resorted to installing the cheapest option available - the dreaded electric shower.

You do not require a degree in engineering nor nuclear physics to understand the electric shower. A source of electricity is attached to a box over the shower head which is, in turn, attached to a supply of cold water. The cold water passing through this form of short circuit is heated and then pours down on to dirty gringo body. That electricity and water don't readily mix is obviously not so widely known down here, so the ubiquity of the hippy killer increases.

In fairness the system works fine, but on occassion when the shower isn't grounded properly or the solar system's alignment is all wrong one can stand under the shower and receive a series of electric shocks. The closer one's hand to the box, the more intense the shock. So the habitual raising of the arm to wash the oxter can cause slightly more than expected. All in all it actually makes showering that bit more fun, nothing like waking up at 6am and not knowing if you will come out of the shower alive or with your hair still attached.

Progress in South Africa

SA pigeon 'faster than broadband'

Jurrasic Park in Guayaquil

Wasn't expecting much from Guayaquil and as usual Scaryplanet had done a good job of warning you not to leave your room after 7pm. But it turned out to be a fine city with lots of interesting parts, including the Malecon (seafront boulevard), the beautiful colonial hill overlooking the town - Las Peñas and the Parque Simon Bolivar in downtown Guayaquil. The park is seemingly normal - grass, benches, grannies chatting, playing children, pigeons and squirrels... And lots of massive wild Iguanas slinking around the place...

Absolutely weird.

Photos here

Balalalla Riobamba

Next up, Riobamba a bustling town in the middle of Ecuador.

I woke up a bit late due to a bit of a hangover which was accomplished by drinking with some Ecuadorian tourists who were on holiday from New York. Two of them were actually building the new World Trade Centre and had an Irish foreman. They seemed to think the Irish were great and insisted on buying me beer. So who was I to say no?
So the lovely journey to Riobamba was spent with my head knocking against the window, trying but failing miserably to sleep.
Into sunny Riobamba and down to ProBici where I decided I wanted to get on a mountain bike (again) the next day to be driven close to the top of Chimbarazo (Ecuador's highest mountain) and descend at high velocity.

Otherwise it was a case of wandering around getting a flavour for the town, which unlike Banos is quite untouristy and therefore all the more enjoyable to walk around without hearing shrill exclamations like "Hey Hank look at this pair of castanets"...

Sometime when it was dark, hunger called and I headed into San Valentin, apparently the in-spot for locals. Got a good seat at the bar and watched Nadal pummel an unfortunate German in the tennis. Some food and a couple of beers later, the chap next to me strikes up a conversation. Turns out he is a local business man (Carlos) and his girlfriend beside him a Colombian (Anna) from Bogota. We start chatting and get on famously. He starts buying me beers. I tell him I have to descend Chimbarazo on a mountain bike tomorrow at 7am. He buys me more beers. As a twist of fate Colombia and Ecuador were playing football the next day, I told him Ecuador had a good chance. He bought me some Tequila.
After enough alcohol to sink the Ecuadorian navy I eventually manage to stand up and make my apologies. I go to pay for my pizza and pre-Carlos beers but he will not let me. I bow down and thank him, stagger home and eat some pillow.

I actually wake up on time, not feeling the may west, but make my way down to the pick up. We drive out of town and for the first time Chimborazo becomes visible and it is absolutely stunning. All 6310 meters of it. Just towering over everything else the eye can see. We drive onwards and ever upwards, the vegetation gradually thinning out until it was just a barren moonscape. We stopped at 4800 meters and I strapped the bike to myself. I still wasn't feeling too hot but nothing for it now, so head down and on with it. Within seconds I was doing well over 50kmh, probably not the best thing for a wildly hungover Irishman with mild altitude sickness. To hell with it, I was enjoying myself. So on I screamed, past bemused tourists, vaguely unsettled Vicuñas.

I rolled on, the landscape once again becoming more lush. Passing ancient Inca settlements and farming communities and in a few short hours it was all over. The driver told me I was extremely quick. I told him I wanted to see the football game at 3pm. He nearly kissed me. It had been on his mind all day and was rather grateful that he could get home in time to see it.

Delighted to help, but Ecuador lost 2-0...

Photos of Banos and its fantastic waterfalls

Photos of Chimbarazo

Baddest English of the week competition #17

Where naughty schoolkids with weak bladders go...

It's not what you're thinking in Baños

Most people who have picked up a rudimentary knowledge of Spanish probably know the basics, like "cerveza", "si", "no" and Baños? Optionally prefixed by "Donde son los"... Indeed Baños means "toilets", or more correctly "baths" and due to lots of volcanic activity in the neighbourhood and a plethora of water, Baños is the place to do the hot spring thing in Ecuador.

I decided not to immerse myself in the waters as it was school holidays and the idea of trying to relax in hot water with lots of excited kids is right up there with being placed in a padded room and having to listen to Celine Dion's greatest hits played on the pan pipes.

Instead I sauntered round the town, which is very pretty, situated in a valley with steep hills on all sides. Unfortunately due to all its good attributes (location, hot water, activities etc.) Baños has also become a little tourist mecca. Much like Thamel in Kathmandu, Nepal and Cusco, Peru the town is overrun with multi coloured Gore-Tex, hiking boots and hat-even -though-its-fucking-20-degrees-outside wearing, ski pole carrying tourists. The town is also very accommodating in that every second shop offers tours, flights, laundry, internet, mountain bikes, massages, potpourri, pot noodles, pots & pans or just pot.

OK, I made the last one up.

Still it is pleasant enough and the locals are good natured and very friendly. I ate most days at the central market where I could get lunch for 2 dollars. It was always quite depressing walking by the tourist restaurants where heaps of gringos were squashed in, eating mediocre food for at least 5 times the price. I always wonder is it fear of the unknown that stops them eating with the locals? Or that they actively like travelling to another country to eat food from Italy and sit & talk English with people from home?

Some chaps who broke this mould were two Australians I met whilst having a beer on the roof of the hostel. Quiet a first, we did the usual "how long you travelling", "where you been", "where you going" blah blah chit chat. They had been on the road for 14 months, which was rather impressive and had come from Alaska, which was even more so. But it only transpired after about 10 minutes that they were actually CYCLING the whole way, trying to camp in most places. They were headed for Patagonia which they reckoned would take another 8 months. I left them drinking and went to bed quietly in awe.


The next morning I awoke inspired by my two wheeled Aussie heroes, so I hired a mountain bike and descended down the valley towards Rio Negro. Along the way there are 7 waterfalls, one more impressive than the next. The ultimate being the pailon del diablo, an astounding cascade which makes more noise than ten 747s taking off simultaneously. There is also a tiny tunnel they have made which allows you to climb in behind the back of the waterfall. It think it was made for the Smurfs as it was mainly about 3ft high, but I managed to get through and peek out from behind the waterfall. No crock of gold though.

On my way back to Baños (horribly sweat inducing and curse outbreakingly uphill all the way) I bumped/wheezed into my two Aussies mates. They had apparently been drinking until quite late and hadn't managed to surface with giant hangovers until midday.



20000km and still pissheads. Legends. Godspeed gentlemen.

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Crazy about Quilotoa

The Quilotoa circuit is a rough trail of roads (mostly unpaved) leading from Latacunga and winding its way through middle Ecuador.

It was early on a Sunday morning and things didn't start too well as the bus terminal I went to had been closed for what looked like a long time. Eventually found the new one and got on the Latacunga bus, which was departing in 3 minutes - a standard reply in Ecuador where every bus is departing in exactly 3 minutes. 20 minutes later we left and we motored down the ugly Panamerican highway.

In Latacunga it was time for breakfast, so I walked into the nearest place that looked like I could acquire some food. I was promptly greeted by a 10 year old girl. I asked for some eggs and she skipped away into the kitchen. A couple of minutes later a 6 year old boy brought me a tray with my eggs, a coffee, a glass of papaya juice and a bread roll with cheese. I scoffed them down and asked the little lady how much. 1 dollar. More daylight robbery I tell you.

The next bus was to Chugchilán, a tiny village half way round the loop. There are only 2 direct busses a day, so the bus was packed and 90% of the people were wearing traditional dress. For the women it was felt halts with peacock feathers, skirts and colourful tops the men had black trousers and a poncho. The bus chugged along, ever uphill, stopping anytime somebody wanted to get on or off. No such things as bus stops here. We reached a small village and there was this most unmerciful scream. It sounded like 20 babies being murdered simultaneouly. It turned out to be rather a large black big, who was being hauled up onto the roof of the bus. Chickens can ride inside. Pigs stay on the outside. Animal racism. The were sounds of hooves on the roof but they soon died down as the pig obviously decided to settle down and enjoy the ride.

The weather was shite, clouds and fog everywhere so the world famous view was well hidden. Just as dusk was decending we arrived into Chugchilán and I made my way to one of the 3 lodging options. The main other one being a horribly right-on yoga, rice & vegetables and composting toilets "ecolodge", which charges 33 dollars for a dorm room. It was nippy up at 3200 meters, so it was on with the fleece and I took a look around town. That lasted 15 minutes and I ended up in the town's only "bar". A small room with a fridge and some stools. Met a nice couple from Colorado and we knocked back some beers before heading back to our hostel for dinner.

The next day I was up early and one look out the window made me cheer up - blue skies and sunshine. I took some form of truck back up to Quilotoa. Sitting on the roof with the Colorado-couple (sounds like a crime gang) and a German girl. This time we were able to appreciate the views. Canyons, mountains, rivers, waterfalls... All there and very lovely.

In Quilotoa there is a famous crater lake, so I hiked down with the German girl. I didn't think it would be much but as we hiked over the crater's edge and caught a first glimpse of the lake I was proved VERY wrong. Yep, the Quilotoa crater lake is just one of those absolutely breathtaking places (picture above). We walked around for hours taking photos before heading back to the road for the decent to Latacunga.

On to Baños next.