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I’ve uploaded the last of my photos to flikr. They are from Copacabana, Bolivia; the trip to the Isla del Sol and the trek down the Colca Canyon in Peru. Some are good, some are crap - for some reason I took a photo of the toilet at Paradise, which is down the bottom of the Canyon. Don’t ask me why, I have these crazy moments!

I’ve created a new non-travel blog at Shine on you Crazy Diamond. If I ever get the opportunity to roam carelessly around the world again, I’ll start posting here once more. Until then, adios amigos!

When I finally booked my place on the Colca Canyon trek I was given a list of things to take - I filed and forgot about it immediately. I felt relieved that after a week of bumming around town that I’d finally decided to do something. Phew! Neither did I pay much attention to the itinerary that was being explained to me. “Blah blah blah”, I thought.

So when I found myself at the end of day 2 discussing a three-hour trek up the side of the canyon starting at 3 a.m., that is, in the dark! I wasn’t too happy! On the way down into the canyon I discovered that I wasn’t too great with heights, or large drops, as I prefer to call them. (Mostly I’m sat in front of a computer terminal or TV - walking along the edge of cliff-faces isn’t an activity that I normally include in my daily life). However, you’d have to be especially crazy to go trekking while you can’t even see where you’re going. During the discussion, I pointed out that I hadn’t brought a light (so going to the bathroom at night was tricky, as there’s no electricity in the canyon) and that I thought them all crazy just for thinking about doing this trek. I wasn’t making myself popular but I WAS SCARED!

After my little rant I remembered that I did have a light, of sorts. I sometimes use the back light on my mobile phone to get me to the bathroom and back. I rummaged around my rucksack and found it. Now I could get to the toilet without fear! Mountains - I’m not too sure about…

The following morning (sorry, the following middle of the night) a few ghost-like lights assembled in the middle of our camp, complained about the hour, then set off into the void. During the three hours on the way up, I counted 1..2..3 … 8..9..10, over and over. For this was about how long my mobile’s back light took before going out again. Also, every once in a while, I have a look at the battery indicator and try to estimate if I was going to make it all the way to the top with my dim light - it wasn’t much, but in the total blackness it did make a fair bit of difference. By my calculations it was going to be touch and go! Thankfully, at 5.30 p.m - with only half an hour to the top - the first twilight appeared over the mountains and with great satisfaction I could safely put my little baby back to bed.

Thanks to God, I’d survived another close one!

I decided to visit one of the local hospitals today. My preferred method of getting over an illness doesn’t seem to be working, i.e. just wait it out and hope for the best. I’m told this is a very male attitude. Instead of being pig-headed I went to get some medical help.

As someone who is well familiar with hospitals in the UK, I was surprised by the contrast between the UK and Peru. Firstly, as a tourist I obviously have to pay, but it’s very very cheap here. Then there’s the privacy issue - there doesn’t seem to be much of it in Peru. While I was being examined by the doctor and later by the nurse anyone around was able to listen in and in the case of one little girl - watch. Don’t worry very little nudity was involved.

One similarity and one contrast: just like in the UK you have to wait around for ages before anyone comes to examine you; but when you do get seen the results come pretty quick.

My distant hope is that they can sort things out here in South America so I don’t have to go home - that, I suspect, is a lot to hope for!

I just got back yesterday from doing a 3-day trek in the Colca Canyon. I would recommend it to anyone. Unfortunately, my health has taken a turn for the worse, so I’m resting up for a few days in Arequipa to see if I can continue or not. My next post may well be from the UK. Who knows?!

I’ve somehow managed to let a week pass by in Arequipa with almost no effort at all. After a couple of months of fleeing about northern Argentina and Bolivia I find it strange to have suddenly hit a downshift in my travels. I suppose I’m more comfortable here than I have been in a while, at the same time as not being able to decide what I want to do next. On the one hand I keen to go to Nazca, climb into an light aircraft and circle around the famous lines for a while, but on the other hand, several people have recommended that I go to Cusco first, then Nazca. My friend Wolf, on the third hand, emailed me to say that Cusco is a processing factory designed to relieve tourists of their money as quickly as possible, and he thinks Arequipa is better. So, I’m currently stuck in the loop, “Should I stay, or should I go?”.

The trip from Copacabana to Arequipa, Perú was a bit of a pain. As I got on my bus a small group of Americans were complaining to a Tour Peru employee because there weren’t any seats on the bus for them even though they’d bought their tickets early. I felt a little sorry for them until one of them piped up saying that he understood Spanish just about. Ahem. You’re never going to persuade anyone in Latin America that they’ve made a mistake starting with a line like that. You’re in their country and it’s not their fault you can’t communicate properly with them. I might have offered to help them but they looked pretty much stuck in town for another day (All three bus companies leave at 1.30 p.m. everyday). I got on the bus and kept my mouth well shut.

When the bus arrived at Puno - the lake is spectacular, it’s a pity that Puno is a hole in the ground - where people have to change for Cusco or Arequipa I got very ratty and shouted at the Tour Peru employee: he was fantastic at running from here to there but terrible at telling us what was going on. I also made the mistake of assuming that our very grand bus had a toilet on-board. Seven hours later I hauled my ass round to one of the crumby hostels by the bus station, to my instant relief.

The next day I taxied it into the centre of town - the driver was very friendly - and taking his advice I settled into a nice hostel near to the Plaza de Armas. Very nice!

Still in the back of my mind were some of the conversations I had with the Helen. She’s a qualified TEFL teacher like me, but unlike lazy bones here, she’s done voluntary teaching and offered several local people free English lessons. So, I got to thinking that I could teach English in return for help with my Spanish. I’ve given up with Spanish lessons - I suppose at my level I’d learn more by using the language for real with local people than I would sitting in a classroom with a teacher.

With not much effort at all (actually he was the first person I asked), I’ve managed to find my first student in Perú. Roberto is what we call a “False Beginner” as he already knows a little, so I have to teach him English in Spanish. It’s a pity I’m only going to have a few days with him, because I won’t have enough time to switch from teaching in Spanish to teaching in English, as I did when I taught beginners in Mexico. However, poco a poco my Spanish improves.

I liked the lake a lot. Coming from the coast of Scotland I feel at home by large bodies of water. In my opinion Titicaca is almost as good as Lake Atitlan, Guatemala - the only difference is Copacabana is a tourist town. I prefer to be surrounded by locals. Most visitors at the lake turn up for a couple of days then zoom off to Cuzco or La Paz without taking a look around at what else is on offer!

Besides visiting La Isla del Sol or La Luna there’s at least couple of other things to do. There’s the 12 km walk to the end of the peninsula (my friend Helen and I cheated, we took a taxi to the reforestation project, then when we got to the end managed to catch a bus back) - which I think is better than the 3 hour walk you do on the island, although the views out from the island of the snowcapped mountains are fantastic. And there’s the climb up to the top of the nearby hill or the walk along the beach.

Copacabana itself is mainly just a couple of streets selling all sorts of tourist crap and restaurants selling average food. The important things to note is there’s no bank, so bring enough money to survive for a few days. In the 5 days I was there (yes, that long!) I only found one good place to eat - that’s up on the hill at the Copula hostel. It’s the most expensive place to stay in town, but it’s run by a Frenchman and his wife so the food is naturally good. And the full-day boat ride took 2.5 hours to get there and 1.5 hours to get back, a little longer than it should have taken. I love being on the water, but I was getting seriously bored on the way back.

I didn’t stay there because I prefer to slum it. Instead, I stayed in the Hostal Center, which I would recommend (great shower) except for two drawbacks: there’s no toilet seat in the bathroom. The place must have around 40 rooms but no toilet seats anywhere to be found. And as it right on the plaza where the taxi and bus drivers hang out I got woken up every morning by them shouting “Kasani Kasani Kasani” and tooting their horn like there was no tomorrow.

As I arrived before my friend Helen, I checked out a few places for her and decided to take her down to the Hotel Mirador which has a spectacular view of the lake through a huge arch window. She, unlike me, is not the sort to slum it. Unfortunately, what I didn’t notice was they were adding three extra stories to the original building. Imagine the bang going on. She soon moved out.

On our final night in town before we went our separate ways, we ate up at the Copula while watching a DVD. It felt like I was back home again. Well, almost.

I’ve bought my ticket up to Copacabana for tomorrow so I’m in a good mood. Partly because La Paz has been a great struggle and partly because I think I’ve finally got the hang of the city now.

I guess when I first arrived I had picked up some kind of cold virus in Cochabamba as I was almost always cold here. I put it down to the high altitude. However, when I was in Sorata and flicked through the local paper I was surprised to learn that La Paz is almost as mild as Sucre! Now that I’m back I don’t have half the trouble with what I thought was altitude sickness. Just as well, as I’m going up even higher.

When I first strolled down town, I remember the the constant stream of buses chucking out plumes of diesel fumes, while people cried out where the bus was headed. That got on my nerves. At high altitude the pollution is worse as there’s less air to mix with, and it still makes my choke sometimes. I was also freaked out by the shoe-shine boys who all wear balaclavas and baseball caps - all you can see is their eyes. This doesn’t inspire much confidence in my opinion, but the locals don’t seem to give it a second thought. These days I just stroll past the SSBs when they spot me, standing there like a zombie while pointing at my feet. I complained about them to my friend Wolf, who suggested that the easiest way to get rid of them is to let them shine your shoes! Doh! Well, I went out looking for them today after I got my shoes cleaned to test the theory. I can report that it does cut down the number of staring zombies, but not all. So it’s just something you / I have to live with.

The final part of the initiation was yesterday as I walked around Calle Illampu. The streetis popular with tourists as there are lots of tour operators around there. I went for a walk along the street to check it out; I only got halfway along when someone tried to rob me: a women approached me from behind saying that my rucksack was dirty. This, I knew, is one of the standard ploys pickpockets use: they put something dirty on you so that they can appear very helpful while at the same time the have an good excuse to start touching you while you’re distracted. The woman sprayed my rucksack with mustard. I shouted at her to F*** off (I wasn’t in a good mood to begin with) couple of times and kept on walking. After a few seconds I thought about conforting her but she had already made her escape. Something like this happened to Wolf and me in Mendoza. It caught me by surprise then, but Wolf knew better, who is much politer than me just decline the offer of help. The way to avoid all this trouble is to wear your bag on your front.

I’m back in La Paz again after spending 5 days lazing around the small town of Sorata. I needed to recover from all the travelling I’ve been doing recently, and thankfully I feel much better for it now.

The town of Sorata is nestled deep in the Andies. Although it’s only 115Kms from La Paz the final part of the bus journey zigzags down some steep roads, so it takes ages to get down to the town. I was suffering a bit from altitude sickness so when we finally started losing height the large drops, that normally bother me, had no effect.

One the first things I noticed was the number of gringo restaurants along one side of the square. I learned that the town is well known for the local trekking it offers, so it usually attract a good number of travellers. However, the country’s recent political troubles currently are continuing to deter travellers. I didn’t mind in the slightest because I wanted to hang out somewhere warm and with a lower altitude than La Paz for a few days.

Shortly after I arrived I guessed my friend Wolf, who I met in Mendoza, wasn’t in town and was probably up in the mountains somewhere as he likes to trek - much more than me. We had both studied Spanish and stayed in the same homestay for 4 weeks, so we knew each other pretty well. From the information I’d found I learned that the treks last for up to 7 days, so there was a chance that I’d have left before he got back into town.
So, the next day I was pleasantly surprised to see him wandering up the street from my hostel and more so when we worked out that I’d taken the room he asked the hostel owner to reserve for him. If I was a real friend I would have offered to move, but I was too busy laughing to think of it at the time.

While I was there I walked the 24Kms to San Pedro Caves. They were still building the tourist reception building when I visited. Well, in truth, there were several men sitting around a partly constructed building looking very bored. I guess they did some work when I wasn’t there. As I rested for the return journey I wondered if the building wasn’t a bit optimistic as I saw no other tourists come by to visit ‘La Gruta’.

On Friday the town celebrated ‘Virgin del Carmen’. For a small town it was a big event. What looked like all the children from the nearby schools dressed up and marched around the plaza. Some marched, other walked, a few of the youngsters hopped around. Most of the adults stood and watched. After the first circuit a few well-to-do people started giving speeches. After a while I began to wonder if it was going to turn into a Castro-like effort - he rambles on for 6-8 hours at a time. It didn’t, thankfully. The procession finished off with another circuit of the plaza. Finishing in good time for the sun to go down. What I found most interesting was the colourful traditional dresses the local women wore. I have a photo somewhere.