La Paz My Ass

Made it to La Paz......bruised and battered from one of the worst bus journeys and boarder crossings thus far, missing the rovers and their Irish charms....and so am questioning my eagerness to book a tour on Death Road…. But its nice not to really know anyone here.  Less distractions, I need to sit down and sort some shit out, practically like flights, dates and money, but also to just clear my head from the last month. I haven’t really had much time to myself, and while I’m not complaining as its been amazing, I feel a little disconnected. Ok so this is starting to sound like a ‘dear diary no one understands me’ entry….thank god its interrupted by the sweet sounds of Southport “Eeeeasy”! I turn around and to my delight see Tom (The Southport guitar playing shaggy haired Tom) and David of the David and Wigger Dutchie duo ambling their way over. I lose myself and jump on them both, fuck its so good to see them, fuck what I said about alone time, I came here hoping to bump into them and have some friends to enjoy the Salt flats with, I’m on a mighty chase to catch up with Marcus and Orit before they catch a plane for Adelaide and aside from Death Road and San Pedro prison I’m not looking to spend much time in La Paz.  So the guys have just arrived back from four days in the jungle and are planning on getting a bus tonight to the Salt Flats…..I have just endured a 16 hour bus journey from hell but fuck it, I’m in! We get our tickets, inhale some pizza and in a group of seven (me, Ste, Adam, Tom, David, Wigger, Anton and Graham) make our way to Uyuni. 

If I thought the last bus journey was hell on wheels, this one made it look like a cruise in the Bahamas. 12 hours of unpaved roads, three break downs and a banging tooth ache later we arrive in Uyuni, a shit hole of a town if ever there was one.  The dutchies and Graham decide to get on a tour that day, Anton needs to catch a flight in a couple of days so there’s no time to waste.  I decide to stay with the Brits and we search out a room for the night, book our tour and have an amble around the town looking at nick nacks in the local market and generally just trying to pass the time.   The best thing that came out of staying in Uyuni for the night was bumping into Orit and Marcus….their flight got changed so they are getting a bus to BA tonight and we have less than and hour, but an hour is better than nothing and I am just happy to be able to see one of the best friends I have made before she heads home. oh and FYI the food sucks in Bolivia.

Christmas in Cusco

At the risk of using many a more cliché, Cusco was a rollercoaster with more ups than downs. I was there for awhile so got to enjoy the different crowds passing through. Its difficult to sum up in one post and I fear lots will be left out.

So as you know I found the Wild Rover with Kim and Nathalie, Becky and Jenya. Kim and I decided to work there so we moved into the staff dorm with the rest of the motley crew bar some….

The Wild Rover Players

Colm and Liam run the hostel and the hostel bar. They are both Irish of course and can be found as we speak dressed in some aw inspiring costume raising the spirits of every traveller that happens to pass through Cusco and stumble into their hostel if they are lucky enough. You can catch up with their further misadventures here. They are both good people- in fact everyone I am about to introduce you to are. Tom and Shane were at the point when I was there managing the bar. Again both Irish, and highly enjoyable individuals; Tom has a constitution unlike any other person I have ever met and Shane pretty much drank a whole bottle of Johnny Walkers to himself at Christmas and stayed standing…..just. I miss them both. This brings me to the ever so loveliness that is Caroline and Aifric. Two stunning best friends from the land of Ire, who I spent many an enjoyable night with and would give anything to see again soon. And then there is the Treacy brothers; Paddy and James I would later find myself whiling away the hours on a bike drinking wine fresh from the Argentinean grapes of Mendoza. Then there is Valerie, a gorgeous Dutch beauty that never actually got to have a lunch with though we planned to every week. Piffa would come to join us a couple of days later but we’ll get back to that earphone donning man of trouble later. Which aptly brings me to the very lovely Lindsley. Lindsley is originally from Bolivia, having worked at Wild Rover La Paz she came over to man the front of house in Cusco. She is a sweetheart and reminds me a lot of my cousin Roxy there is something about the eye, lip, cleavage combo that they both have going on, very sultry. And of course there is Coco, the resident chef and DJ wanna be. Not a night passed at the bar without him putting on some David Guerrta and not so much as offering than forcing free shots amongst the patrons. But he makes a mean Irish Stu and he can smile for Peru. (that was an unintentional rhyme, but I’ll let it slide)

A couple of days after the Black and White party most of the old crowd had moved on.  I was getting confident behind the bar wearing my make shift 80’s costume when in walked three very boisterous Aussies looking for a room and a good time.   Meet Vanda, Brent and Dragon.  Vanda has the constitution of an Ox and a heart to match, he will wake you up for late night/early morning introspective conversation, lay next to you listening to Eleanor Rigby on repeat and pass you scribbles of verse on torn out bits of paper but he’ll also be there when you’re feeling a little low, help you crack a smile and get your dance on. Brent has long blonde dreads and is one of the most easy going people I have met,  He’ll brave one armed topless tranny taxi drives in BA for a good time and wait patiently while you get your cards read for an hour on a hot day hung-over. He’s a good egg.  Dragon will, well Dragon will be Dragon.  I spent more time with Vanda and Brent then with Dragon and for good reason.  He’s not a bad guy but he was looking for things that I was avoiding and so I kept my distance.

Christmas in Cusco was unlike any other Christmas I have experienced.  I had never had Christmas away from home and so it was tough going.  Festivities and spirits where high and though I had an amazing time, I would be lying if I said I was 100 per cent happy.  This was one of my lowest and happiest points.  I missed home like crazy and couldn’t get through to anyone on Christmas day. Stuttered hellos over skype made it worse and so I decided to quite my moodiness and join the party.  And what a party it was. Colm and Liam went all out and the whole hostel gathered together in the main entrance hall for a feast of backpacking champions.  Coco had prepared an amazing Christmas Dinner and the wine was flowing.  We had a slight music set back which was rectified by my ipod and a Christmas mix I had made about 5 years ago. Dammit! I had hoped to escape that mix, my mom plays it every year and that was the only thing I wasn’t going to miss about home.  Tom managed to commandeer a Santa costume with a massive fake head that found its way on to most heads in Cusco and got lost over the course of the night.  How does one lose a massive fake Santa head you ask? I don’t know, my last memory of it was seeing it through the mass of sweaty bodies in a club somewhere in the city centre.

       

What Should We Do?

Here's a little look at just another night at The Wild Rover

It’s All About The Craik

 

As Nathalie and I were waiting for the train that was to take us back over the mountains and half way to Cusco in rocked Adam with a big “wahhayyy” We sat and discussed the days events while smoking our cigarettes, “what did you think of Machu Piccu Adam?” his reply, true to form…”Just a bunch or rocks.” one of the many catchphrases that would make up his repertoire along the rest of my travels.  It was dark and getting cold and I was grateful for my new purchased black jeans.  We convoyed onto the train tired and weary from the last 36 hours and made out way to our assigned seats.  It was at this point that Nathalie and I realised that our ‘guide’ hadn’t given us the details for our bus back and that it was a very real possibility that we would be stranded in the little stop gap town an hour from Cusco with nowhere to stay.  Luckily the guy sitting opposite us had taken quite a shine to Nathalie and was insistent that we board his bus and hitch a ride with his group.  There were about 15 of them who had all done the Inca trail and while we were nervous about blagging it- it seemed our only option.  As we followed this blonde guy who’s name escapes me onto his bus and not so subtly made our way to the back I could feel the burning stare of one of the girls in particular.  “They’re not supposed to be on this bus, they didn't do the 5 day bonding experience with us! They don’t know the lyrics to our made up camp songs!” ok so she didn’t say all of the above but that was definitely where she was coming from when she made a point of telling the guide that we were imposters and should be shunned.  The guys fought our corner though and much to her disappointment the guide let us stay. The rest of the journey was spent singing along to a jukebox of classics forcing their way through the shitty bus speakers.  I lost my voice singing or screeching along to Champaign Supernova right about the time the DJ came over to introduce himself.  This is Damon, an Aussie who had been travelling with his girlfriend and would later come and join the fun at Wild Rover.  But for now he was just some dude with an Ipod with a good song selection.  We invited everyone on the bus to the party the following night at the Wild Rover, it was the grand opening and apparently to be my first night behind the bar.  Luckily the girl who would have had us flung out on our asses decided not to make an appearance but Damon and his girlfriend came along, as well as the blond guy who’s name I can’t remember wearing a shiny green lycra body stocking. 

 

It turned out to be a really great party and luckily I didn’t have to tend bar that night. It was a black and white themed party and people went all out. A bunch of the guys went as the band Kiss, the dutchies donned tight white short shorts for their tennis player duo. We had a toga, a punk rocker, a cat, a bat, two Treacy brothers with capes a mime and a very creepy looking skeleton to name but a few.

 

I would later come to realise that themed nights were a regular occurrence at the wild rover hostel. I spent a lot of time there and so I am finding it difficult to write about. Aside from the fact that so much happened in the month that I was there, there is a fair bit that probably shouldn’t be typed out and posted on the world wide web. I considered breaking it into sections but in truth the memories are all jumbled up into some sort of dream like state and I wrote very little while I was there. (Forgive me for what is about to happen…. Below is my attempt at stuffing my experiences at Wild Rover into a not so appealing turkey to the tune of The Beatles and The Coral…..its so wrong its right? Yeah not so much……..)

* I have ever so thoughtfully supplied some dire bastardised Karaoke versions of A day in the Life and Dreaming of You for those who would like to sing along…

A Day in The Life of a Wild Rover

I read the news today oh boy

About the fuel strike in Bolivia

And though the news was rather sad

I just had to laugh

No buses going to La Paz

I guess this means I won’t be going far

Another week for me behind the bar

this happens a lot where plans get changed

A new crowd of people for the end of year

They'd seen this place before

But nobody could really know what there was in store

I saw a show today oh boy

The Entourage Army had just won the war

A crowd of people in the chill out room

We all just had to look

one episode and we were hooked,

I'd love to turn you on...

Woke up, fell out of bed,

in the room that we all shared

Found my way across the bar started my shift,

And some one puked into a jar.

Served some Aussies served some mates

I can barely hold the plates

downed a redbull and had a smoke,

and Somebody spoke and I went into a dream

Its Christmas eve today oh boy

A thousand miles away from home

I miss my family this time of year

But the rover’s full of Christmas cheer

And we’ll do it all again tomorrow so just grab a beer

I'd love to turn you on……

So sang the boys with guitar in hand (in hand)

Acoustic nights are always pretty Grande (pretty grande)

They usually sing this tune

‘When I'm dreaming of you ‘

Oh what can I do (wah oooo)

I still need you, but

I don't want you now

Every night there’s a theme for you (for you)

Power hour, killer pool and 80’s cool (80’s cool)

In the day you can go explore (go explore)

All the history just outside your (your door)

Then come sing along

to a Bon Jovi song

Oh what can I do (wah oooo)

I still need you, but

I dont want you now

Oh yeah

Ohhh Ohhhhh

Up in my hostel bed

I’ll sleep when I’m dead

Oh what can I do (wah oooo)

I still need you, but

I dont want you now

   

Falling…according to Florence

I've fallen out of favour
And I've fallen from grace
Fallen out of trees
And I've fallen on my face
Fallen out of taxis
Out of windows too
Fell in your opinion
When I fell in love with you
Oh-ooh
Sometimes I wish for falling
Wish for the release
Wish for falling through the air
To give me some relief
Because falling's not the problem
When I'm falling I'm in peace
It's only when I hit the ground
It causes all the grief
Oh-ooh
This is a song for a scribbled out name
And my love keeps writing again and again
This is a song for a scribbled out name
And my love keeps writing again and again
And again
I'll dance myself up
Drunk myself down
Find people to love
Love people too drunk
I'm not scared to jump
I'm not scared to fall
If there was nowhere to land
I woudn't be scared
At all….All
Sometimes I wish for falling
Wish for the release
Wish for falling through the air
To give me some relief
Because falling's not the problem
When I'm falling I'm in peace
It's only when I hit the ground
It causes all the grief

I <3 Hiking

 

 

 

                          

Neither Nathalie or I are a great fan of hiking, so we decided to take the train and hike the steps rather than do a four day trek.  We made t-shirts for the occasion,  This made Nathalie very happy as the photo above so eloquently demonstrates.

Songs to sing on a Mountain Top

Here are a selection of the songs that found themselves being sung over the lost city. Some of them might seem a bit random but each one has its own dedication to a particular person or persons so it made sense at the time..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There are countless more, but I didn’t realise how many until I started listing them all and well I can’t actually remember them all……

Climb a Mountain, Sing a Song, or 2 or 3 or 4.

Machu Picchu
It means Old Peak and is the "Lost City of the Incas", I could go into a lot more detail here….we had a very enthusiastic tour guide but when you have woken up at 3am to climb 3 hours of ancient steps all the way to the top your attention span is a little sporadic.   But really I kind of just wanted to experience the place on my own first.  Don’t misunderstand me, I find the history, well any history fascinating but I wanted to enjoy it as it was first and then learn all its ancient stories.  The only way I can describe it is like watching the film before reading the book, if you do that you have an instant point of reference so your imagination is forever guided by someone else's. Nonetheless it was still really interesting to learn about the symbolism of the ancient city and what the ruins represented and to imagine what it was like as a working city and the people who lived there up high, high at the very top of this world.
 
My story begins with a friend and a bike.  Nathalie and I decided to shirk the very gringo packed Inca Trail and carve one of our own.  We rented some bikes and along with a guide made our way through the pink, orange and red pastels of the Andes.  We passed miles and miles of quinoa crops, people farming with donkeys and mules, civilisation of the kind we are accustomed too seemed as far away as Steven Spielberg film. We stopped at Inca monuments along the way, marvelling at their presence and endurance.  Beautiful crops and amphitheatres, salt mines and rock formations, this was once the most advanced civilisation in the world and you can’t help but wonder how many secrets are lost with them. 
We biked into and over the mountains some times with leisure but mostly with hearts pounding.  It was gruelling physically and sometimes treacherous.  There was very little ground and no barrier on drops that would surely kill you if you were to slip or fall.   By the time we reached our destination the sun was setting over the mountains the sunset seemed to take its cue and complimented the sky line with the most brilliant, vivid pallet of color. It was breathtaking.
<Side Note: I finished this post, went to get a glass of water and came back to find the entire thing save for the above had been erased due to my laptop restarting itself. Balls! So I have to write the whole thing over again but I am less than enthused so please forgive me if this post is a little shabby>


In order to get to Aguas Calientes which is the town closest to Maccu Pichu, you have to get a train.  Nathalie and I  boarded the Inca Express, I tiny little train packed and muggy with the smell of sweat, I almost lifted armpit to nose to make sure it wasn’t me and then remembered what I had been doing for the last eight hours and concluded that I didn’t want to know the answer to that.  It wasn’t a comfortable journey, I put it down predominantly to god awful choice of music or perhaps I should say Muzac? Flute renditions of popular songs, a bamboo whistle-ly version of Bridge over troubled water is enough to make anyone consider jumping off said bridge as apposed to musing over it.  The whole experience was intricately thought out and designed with your average tourist in mind and this is the one thing that takes away from visiting this lost ancient city…..”Ruins on your right but Exit through the gift shop.” and that’s my social commentary for the day done, lets get back to it shall we? The train was full of eager Brazilian high school students, excited and talkative and I was happy to use my basic Portuguese and engage in their excitement, it was catching and a nice distraction from the muzac.

We watched the sun set over the mountains as we pulled into the little tourist haven where we were to bed for the night. With a 3am wake up call we had little on our minds but sleep and so after putting together a meal for the trek we headed up to our room and said goodnight.  At 3 am the alarm sounded and we sluggishly pulled ourselves from our beds, muscles still aching from the bike ride and heads still cloudy with fragments of sleep. By this time Nathalie was used to my “I had the weirdest dream” statement that came most mornings and as we made our way outside she listened patiently.  The streets were busy with people preparing for the 3 hour climb, it was a nice change from the usual 3 in the morning groups of drunken antics. We followed the directions and soon where on a pitch black deserted path, crossing the bridge and keeping close while we chatted about nothing in particular.
As the sun started to shine on the path before us we reached the gates that were to lead us to the ancient steps.  We made our way together but soon realised that we couldn’t keep each others pace. I knew if I kept stopping I would never make it, I had to keep moving, Nathalie was more of a take it in sections kind of girl and so we parted in good spirits and agreed to meet at the top. 
What was to follow was three hours of internal dialogue.  Those who know me well know I can talk for Queen and country about nothing in particular or everything at once.  Do you ever have those moments when your mind is working too fast for your mouth and you end up saying half a thought out loud because you have already moved onto the next one in your head? I get that a lot and then I have moments of complete and utter muteness, where its not that I don’t have anything to say but I don’t feel the need to say it or don’t want to share which is unlike me.  I have a reputation for verbal diarrhea and getting my foot stuck in my mouth.  But I am finding that as time passes and I get a little older I don’t feel the need to share every little thought that passes through my mind which I think is a good thing for everyone involved.  Anyway, tangent over. 
On this particular occasion I found myself directing my thoughts and internal dialogue to one person in particular. I often talk to him in my head, it would be weird if I spoke to him out loud seeing as he has been dead for the better part of 14 years.  I told him about what had been going on over the last couple of months, the highs and lows of my trip so far about how I felt being so far away from home especially with everything that was going on back there. (he knew the feeling) I told him what frightened me and how I couldn’t understand that the very things that scared the shit out of me also sometimes excited me the most.  It really felt like he was walking up that mountain beside me, designer shoes and all. I could picture him sweat free, Armani silk shirt tucked into his high waisted black slacks, a vibrant belt snaking his waist and that silver lizard ear ornament gleaming in the sun.The thought made me laugh out loud and then he was fading.  I strained to hear his voice but it was gone. i spent the last hour walking up on my own, its a feeling I know well but haven’t mastered the art of being comfortable with it. I promised him I would meet him at the top and so I kept going with only my own voice for company this time. 
When I reached the top, dripping in sweat, hair matted to my redder than apple face, the first person I saw was Wigger. He’s about 7 feet tall so its not a hard spot but it was nice to see a face i recognised and know that his group was not far away.  Connor soon made his way over then David and Janne and Dave and finally Nathalie reached the top albeit looking very unimpressed. We ended up being in the same tour so waited for our guide and to get our breathing back.  I don’t want to go into too much detail here describing the actual site as I really think its something that everyone if they can, should see for themselves once in their lives.
Half way through the tour the rest of the group headed for Huayna Picchu the highest peak with the best view of the city but Nathalie and I  decided not to climb the higher peak, it wasn’t so much the getting up there that worried me, it was the getting back down.  My fear of heights can be pretty ridiculous at times but I know that the steep climb down with nothing to hold onto would be too much for me and visions of helicopter rescue units were enough to keep me grounded.  Instead Nathalie and I decided to climb the not so steep baby Piccu, it took barely ten minutes before we found a suitable place to sit and look over the site.  There weren’t many people on this route so we had the place pretty much to ourselves and true to my promise I sat overlooking the ancient ruins and with ipod in hand sang his song over the top of the mountains. Then we sang another and then another, we just sat their and sang along to my ipod until the battery died and our voices were hoarse. 

A year ago today…

I was nervously packing the last of my things.  Hands shaking as I tried to figure out how to fit stuff I would eventually never use. My flight was at 9 in the morning which meant leaving my bed at 5 am and making my way through the sleepy streets of London for the very last time in 2010. 

As I sat on my bag gripping the zipper and willing it to close, a hundred thoughts bounced around my mind like lottery balls itching to be chosen.  What if I am making a huge mistake? What if I get there and hate it? What if I I love it so much I never want to come back? What if what if what if….And then I realised…that’s exactly what I was doing. I wanted to go and live out all of those what ifs.  To experience people, places, moments free from the constraints of everything I have known. I had no idea what was waiting for me on the other side but I knew in that moment that I was going to do everything in my power to eek out as much of the experience as I could.

In case you haven’t noticed yet, this is a bit of a reflective blog post and yet the blog hasn’t even reached half way of my journey yet so I will refrain from going into too much detail of lessons learned or not yaddy yaddy yada. And so perhaps its apt that the next entry is of one of my most memorable experiences along the way. …

But for now I will leave you with the soundtrack to the very beginning of my journey.  The song that pumped its way through the tiny speakers in my ears and filled me with excitement for what was to come.

Lost in Cusco

Part 1 of a preparation for many  Cusco entries:

Its been awhile since my last post and even longer since I actually got home from travelling.  I have been busy getting back into the swing of things at home and preoccupied with that but really I think I have been dragging my heals with this one as I don’t really know where to start.  There is so much to say about my time in Cusco.  It was all encompassing and so so full, I have scribbles of diary entries and thoughts written on napkins at 3 in the morning after getting back from another night out.  There are so many little anecdotes and stories and memories and people to introduce it feels like a bit of a mountain to climb, not dissimilar from the experience itself.  Some of the most poignant moments and nuances are also some of my most private and so trying to write about it as purely ‘and then this happened’ doesn’t really satisfy or do justice to my time there.

So I fear I might just have to stumble my way through this one and hope that it all comes together and makes sense and is at least mildly entertaining.  I’ll start with an actual paragraph that I wrote while waiting for the bus to La Paz.

“I have been in Cusco, Peru for the last month.  I have a back log of posts to write and in time I’ll get there.  But first a note about the last month……So Cusco is the city closest to Machu Picchu, the lost Inca city, and one would think that here would be a place for reflection and to soak up some history…”just a bunch of rocks Adam?”   I ventured to Cusco with the group I was with in Hauccacina, Nathalie, Kim, Becky Jenya, and Natalie and Seamus.  I met Natalie and Seamus in Mancora and bumped into them again in Huaccacina.  Nathalie is Conor’s sister and is quite possibly one of the most naturally beautiful woman I have ever seen she has a natural grace about her and reminds me a lot of Angelie ( I hope this reference might induce you to stop bringing up the stella rae BB references Ang!) Seamus was my beer pong partner on my last night in Mancora which was highly entertaining though alas not so productive. Although I am sure that is down to more my inadequacy with cups and balls then his.

I arrived in Cusco on a Friday night, checked into The Point Hostel, had some dindin and went straight to bed.  By the Saturday I had found a home at the new Wild Rover Hostel and a group of Irish revellers that I will be forever sorry to say goodbye to.  It really did become my home away from home and I even managed to get behind the bar for a couple of weeks, though this proved to be more detrimental to my health then anything I have endured thus far!  Cusco was great craic, but I do feel like maybe I was hiding out here for a bit.  I  guess i just wanted to be ‘lost’ for awhile, and as hard as it is to say goodbye to everyone, its time to move on.”

By the Monday the hostel began to fill up.  Word must have spread round and by Monday night most of the people I had met along the way were checking into The Wild Rover.  The Mancora crew, bar Paige and Emily who had left the Sunday night had arrived.  Friends from Lima and even as far back as Quito were making an appearance as well. The people who were new faces to me, were friends of friends as well and we had heard about each other through other nomads on the gringo trail.

The hostel was brand new, completely redecorated with brand new mattresses and bedding.  Most rooms have en suite bathrooms with piping hot showers and impressive water pressure. I mention this as it is such a rarity and provided instant comfort over the holiday season.  We spent the night decorating the halls with tinsel and putting up the tree, it was beginning to feel a lot like Christmas….well maybe not but it was close enough.

Of the many familiar faces, there is one that I was most happy to see.  This of course belongs to the one and only Orit.  I met Orit and her other half Marcus in Mancora and felt an instant kinship with her. She is one of those people that is impossible not to like and I was hoping to see her again.  The same can be said about Marcus. They are great people to be around both separately and as a couple.I was sitting in one of the bean bags in the entrance hall that also acts as a communal space, feeling pretty uncomfortable with the subtext of my surroundings when she arrived. Without going into too much detail, my first week in Cusco was as amazing as it was awkward and I could already feel the beginnings of self doubt rear its ugly head. My conversations with Orit had always been candidly honest and most importantly I trusted her.  I trusted I could talk with her about anything and everything and it felt like a mutual friendship. So it felt completely natural to spend the rest of the night talking away, picking up where we had left off. 

The rest of the week passed with sightseeing by day and frolicking by night. Nathalie and I had booked out trip to Machu Picchu and there was a party to mark the opening of the hostel to prepare for on the Friday.  People were arriving by the day and it wasn’t long before Adam flew in to join us. I’ll take a break here for now.  Next post the road to Machu Piccu or as Adam likes to call it “just a bunch of rocks.”