After a few days in Quito to rest after our puddle adventures in Papallacta, we hopped on the trolley bus to get to the bus station to get the bus to Cotopaxi. After a rather hectic run, with our packs on, to get on the bus that the hustler was determined to put us on, we had yet another first for our trip – we managed to jump on a moving bus, and off it again when we got to the park entrance.  From here we had to get a “taxi” – a 4×4 pick up truck that would drive us into the park for the small fee of 15 USD for a 15 minute journey. TO put things in perspective, the bus that took over an hour cost about USD 1.50.  We asked to be dropped off at the camp site on the south side of the park, as this seemed to be as close to the volcano Cotopaxi as we could get, without actually camping at the refuge, which you can’t drive too. It was a glorious day and we set up our tent, all on its own in that area of the camping, and set off to explore a bit more. We huffed and puffed up towards Ruminuahui, a volcano just behind the camp site, and then slid our way back down towards the lake, startling many wild horses and tagged cows along the way.  Although we had been in Quito, which is almost at 3,000 metres, it was still making us breathe rather heavily as we walked up the hills.  We got back in the evening and had a gorgeous gormet meal of couscous mixed with chicken soup and some soya flakes, and a packet of tuna stirred in.  It was quite a celebration though, as after a few days of trying to get our new MSR Whisperlite burner to work with diesel in Papallacta, and failing miserably as the black smoke poured out all over our food, we had switched to “super” fuel. Its the closest you can get to unleaded petrol here, though still heavily leaded. It worked like a dream, despite the fact that you aren’t supposed to use this fuel type. As it was, it was our only option here, as the white fuel that is recommended has been banned in Equador as it is used in making cocaine… great. So we had a very happy, hot, leaded meal and then shortly after the sun went down crawled into our tent, which was gloriously neither in a puddle nor on a slope. As we lay reading that night with our head lamps on, we suddenly heard a sound. After checking that it was neither Fab nor Oli, we realised that the heavy breathing was in fact coming from right outside the tent, circling it and snorting as it did, looking for an opening. Taking a look outside, under the flaps of the tent, with the headlamp revealed nothing (although Oli did not have her contacts in, so it was to be expected). Slowly though, the beast circled around our tent to Fab’s side, so he could see it as it stood there, the mist circling around its legs as it panted heavily by the tent opening. There was a plaintive cry a few metres off, as one of its pack members was charged by what must have been the alpha male, defending its new found territory. There were 5 beasts in total in the pack, mostly strong creatures, who were clearly displeased that we had also marked our territory by a nearby bush. Fab expressed his disgust as the beasts did whatever they could to wipe out any sign that we had thought for a moment that it could have been our land, but we stayed in the tent, allowing the beasts to have their way. Oli by this stage had found her glasses, and as she looked out, the beasts cried out. “Moooooooooooooooooooooo!”, said the alpha male. “Don’t stick your head out so far!” said Fab, “You’ll scare them off!”. Too late. The cows that had been eating the grass by our bush  trotted a few metres further off.  As we snuggled back down in our tent, feeling relieved that we were not to become the prey of a ravenous bear or other unknown beast, the cows came back to circle our tent. We rested peacefully though, only hoping that they would not fall over any of the guide lines for the tent and run off with us attached to a leg.

We awoke the next morning, in one piece, as rain dripped through the tent onto Fab’s bag. It had sagged during the night, and outside our tent was a thick mist. Even if the cows had stuck around, we wouldn’t have been able to see them. Nor could we see Cotopaxi.  Fab finally dragged Oli out of her sleeping bag, despite protests that it would be to wet, too cloudly, too snowy up Cotopaxi to make it worth while. The protests gained her about 2 more hours of sleep, but that had to be forsaken in the end as the intrepid explorers prepared to make their first attempt on foot up to the ice line above the refuge on Cotopaxi.  With their bellies full of porridge and hot chocolate, the one happy explorer encouraged the grumpy one to keep going, as they forced their way through the mist, cloud, thick fog and general dampness. We popped out of it for a moment, only to see the wall of it swirling behind us like the “nothing” in “the neverending story”. Soon it overtook us again, yet we forged on. This was the reason we had come back to the park, and we were determined to get to the top. We met a park guard along the road, who popped out of the mist and was not a stone as we thought at first. He told us it was snowing up Cotopaxi at about 4,000 metres. Our climb was going to be miserable. We went on until we came to a cross roads. Left to climb up Cotopaxi – what was going to be probably an 8 hour return trip in the rain, cloud, snow and ice – or right to a restaurant hotel inside the park. Thinking that it could perhaps be dangerous to attempt to climb in such bad conditions, and that the view anyway would be nonexistant, after a few minutes of deliberation we turned right and walked to the north side of the park, where the sun was shining.  After another hour of walking, we enjoyed a wonderful 3 course meal, all the while Cotopaxi was covered in clouds. The waiter assured us that the next day was going to be better weather, so we went back to our tent after assuring ourselves that we would climb the next day. When we returned to the campground and turned the corner, we were greeted with a grisly sight. Our peaceful campground had been overrun by other tents! A whole tour group, bus and all, had turned up and pitched tents right next to ours.  The campsite had several separate areas, completely untouched, and we promptly showed our disgust at their lack of respect for our space and peace and quiet by picking up our tent, bags and all still inside it, and carrying it over about 400 metres off with a copse of trees blocking us from hearing their late night revelry.  After much huffing and puffing of a different kind, we settled down to cook yet another hot meal (mashed potatoes with chicken this time – i.e. powdered chicken soup mixed with potato puree and soya flakes) and then went to bed. No cows came to visit that night, although there had been plenty of evidence of their visit to that area, not to much earlier. Unfortunately we had also managed to walk in some of the evidence, but it didn’t smell too bad.

The next day, we awoke to water almost dripping on Oli’s sleeping bag. It was even worse than the day before. The cloud was even thicker, wetter and colder. We packed up the wet tent with our red, numb fingers, and almost left the park.  We changed our minds though and considered the fact that the north side of the park had been totally clear the day before, so we headed off, packs and all, to see if the hotel had a room so that we could warm up for the night. It did have a private room for USD 100 – a problem we had discussed on the walk over. The consensis was to camp, rather than to fork out this amount per night. Luckily though, we were saved from another night in the wet tent when we found out that they had dorms too, which we gladly took. It was a small dorm, and we were the only ones in there. We took wonderfully hot showers, ate another 3 course meal, and settled down to read for the afternoon, resting ourselves for the big climb the next day.

Slowly we emerged the next day to blue skies over Cotopaxi. The south side of the park was still covered in “the nothing”, but our way was clear. We feasted on a hearty breakfast (eggs of course, again, what else?) and set off. We hoped to make the car park in 4 hours, the refuge one hour after, and the glacier an hour after that. We figured it would only take us about 3.5 hours to get back afterwards though.  We reached our crossroads from the first day, and turned up the volcano. About 30 minutes later, our legs started to feel leaden and our arms felt just as heavy.   We had taken some snacks with us called “battery” bars, which we could eat if necessary along the way. After walking for another hour, we sat down for a rest. Fab asked if Oli fancied a battery, which she completely misunderstood, thinking he meant that there was a dead battery on the ground. Pointing out the chicken bones next to her, she said she didn’t need a battery.  It was only on the way down that the mistake was realised.  We could have done with the snack too, considering what was ahead. It is one thing to climb out of the car at 4,500 metres and climb 300 metres to a refuge.  It is another matter entirely to walk from 3,800 metres and over several hours to 5,100 metres. The altitude starts to affect you before the 4,000 metres, even if you have acclimatised. If you haven’t, good luck! Our shoulders ached as much as our legs as we used our poles to urge ourselves on. When we finally reached the car park, we took a short cut straight up the volcano. It was like walking up a close to vertical sand pit. Each step you take, you slide backwards almost the same distance. After taking many breaks though where we tried to offer encouragement to eachother through our heavy breathing, we finally reached the zigzagging path that lead to the refuge. It seemed about 4 times as long as the first time we walked up it, although this time the weather was on our side. We only had a short while when the snow and ice was drilling into our cheeks like pins. (Reading this back, I am wondering why we do this… I’m getting to that though). After probably about 7 “last bends to get around before we get to the refuge”, we finally got to the refuge and sat flat on the ground with our backs against a wall while we sent out the first “ok” on the spot. It was snowing and wet, our backs and most of the rest of our bodies ached, but we were almost there. After the spot finally sent after 15 minutes of us sitting outside in the snow (hope you looked at it!) we went inside and drank hot chocolate and ate lots of chocolate bars to regain our strength for the final push. Or at least, the final upwards push. We left the refuge behind and climbed up the path behind the refuge, stopping to look at the wonderful views of where we had come from.  The park looked tiny below us, and the hotel looked so far away! We benefited from these views to catch our breath every 20 metres or so, but still made it to the glacier in good time – probably only 20 minutes as opposed to the hour we had thought.  We kicked the ice of the glacier as we had planned, feeling truly elated that we had made it that high! 5,100 metres! It was incredible. We have taken many photos to mark the occasion.  After sending another spot, we started our descent back down the volcano again, down the vertical sand pit that is right in front of the refuge, and back onto the trail that leads, slowly, all the way back to the hotel.  That night we drank beer and feasted, for a while at least before we fell asleep very early, to celebrate our victory over the un-iced north face of Cotopaxi.

A brief aside regarding the height of the ice – it might look on the spot map that the ice was at 5,000 metres. However, while we were climbing Cotopaxi, a van was coming down the volcano and pulled up beside us. It was a German couple that we had met the day before who had climbed the volcano that night with a guide. They had the biggest grins on their faces after a successful ascent! We said we were just going to the ice at 5,000 metres, and not climbing it. “Nein!” exclaimed the German, “You vill go higher! Ze ice is at 5,100m!” So you can judge for yourselves. Personally we are going with German precision.

We’re now in Ibarra, resting and planning our next stops. We expect it will be the bus train – a bus that has been converted to run on train tracks out towards the northern coast.  Before that though we still have a few more crater lakes to look at, and we have to wait for our very dirty laundry to be clean!

Bisous,

Faboli xxx

Just a quick update to let you know that we are still in Quito, we shall head out to the national park tomorrow morning. The idea is to climb Rumablablabla somethingorother volcano on Sunday, then to attack Coto when it is a bit quieter on Monday… just so you know when to watch the spots.  Don’t freak out if you don’t see spots – if it is cloudy then they sometimes don’t go through. 

Today we had a very chilled out day, people watching and eating steak. They seem to have clubs here that are open all day that all the teeny boppers go to  at about lunchtime, so that provided some entertainment.  Oli managed to fall asleep for the whole afternoon – highly adventurous!

Hopefully next time we should have something a bit more exciting to tell!

Off to eat, again..

Bisous,

Faboli

Just a quick update to let you know that we didn-t get washed away in the national park by papallacta! It didnt really rain that much while we were there, but Equador has a lot of water… so we couldn-t really avoid camping in it. If you put a safety blanket under the tent though, it tends to keep most of the interior dry! We had a lovely walk, quite high up, huffing and puffing away, and made it to a lovely lake.  After 2 nights in our puddle though, we decided to head back down the hills to go to the volcanic spa to soak our tired muscles, and then proceeded to sleep all afternoon. Being up above 4000 meters seems to be very tiring!

Anyway, just incase 4000 meters wasn-t enough, we are off to Cotopaxi again now, and will attempt to get up to 5000 meters tomorrow, so keep an eye on the spot! The plan is to climb up past the refuge at 4810 and go and kick the ice at 5000m, and then huff and puff some more while we try to send an “ok” spot from that altitude. Then we shall puff back to the refuge for hot chocolate, then run down the ash slopes of the volcano before it blows! hehe. It takes hours to get up and minutes to get down.. Wish us luck!

Right, so we must go and get our busses now so that we can pitch the tent before nightfall!

Lots of love,

Faboli

Just a quick blog to let you know that all the photos taken over the last month are now available! There are a lot… we didn’t have time to sort them out first.  You may get a bit tortoised-out.

We’re off trekking now in a couple of national parks (Popayata & Cotopaxi) so will be off the radar for a little while, apart from the spots which we shall keep coming through. Please keep your fingers crossed for us that the weather clears up. Its horrid out there at the moment so we’re hoping that we don’t have too many wet nights in the tent!

Lots of love,

Faboli xxx

Hello all!

So as most of you will have gathered from the comments or from being in the know, Desperate Mom and ICCM had arranged to join us for 3 weeks here in Equador.  We all arrived in Quito, despite the erupting volcanoes and a detour via Guyaquil for DM and ICCM, on the 30th of May, and Fab and I got our first taste of luxury for the past 4 and a half months when we checked into the 5 star hotel in Quito. Since then, it has been a whirlwind of plans, guides, planes and tours. We started off with the Galapagos islands – somewhere that we have really only dreamed of going while looking through biology and travel magazines. A 5 day 4 night overland trip had been arranged by DM and ICCM in advance. The other option is to do the sea version, where you spend most of your time with a pair of binoculars on a cruise ship, but that sounded a bit too much like Butlins. It was a bit of a surprise for us all when we arrived. You expect more or less deserted islands populated by extremely friendly reptiles and the like. You don’t expect plane load after plane load of tourists, often of the high-heeled and plastified variety, arriving to be bundled into busses that pour out black smoke. Welcome to the Airport! It does improve – the bus takes you to a ferry and then you get in (not in the back of, it is illegal) the pickup truck that transports you to the luxury hotel. Tourists become a bit more spread out. Your guide is with you most of the time though in case you have queries, and if you were wondering what you were going to do next (a nice beer on the terrace perhaps) he will inform you of the plan. We had a great afternoon, luckily in a very small group of the 4 of us and an american couple on their honeymoon, snorkling and checking out the marine life, sea lions, crabs and later on, on the beach, a small shark that we went paddling with. We met some of the lizards, who are a lot smaller than they look in the pictures, and then were transported back to the hotel for dinner and an early night where we slept like logs.

The next day it was up and off to another island, Florentina, to meet the tortoises. Oli discovered that she does in fact get sea sick, but managed to hold it in. We met many giant tortoises, Fab pretended to be one (pics to follow when we have faster connection), and then there was time for swimming, beach walking and snorkeling. Fab came face to face with a sea lion, which was quite interesting.

After that, we were off to Isabella, for some more animal spotting. We also saw the Galapagos Penguin up close while snorkling, looking at us like we were complete retards for needing snorkle gear. There were also some white tipped reef sharks, lots of lizards, heaps of different darwin finches, a-aa lava (sorry about the spelling) reefs, lava tunnels, collapsed lava lakes, and pahoehoe lava in other spots. It was really an incredible experience, being able to wander around the creatures!

After the trip to the Galapagos, we came back to Quito for a while and met up with friends of ICCM who live here, who have taken us around natural parks to see some of the wonders of continental Equador, which are stunning. From volcano lakes to refuges up volcanoes, we travelled from sea level to the dizzying height of 4810 meters  (higher than Mont Blanc!) where the going was slow, oxygen thin, the snow rather painful on the face and the sensation of getting up there absolutely thrilling.  FAb and Oli are going to do it again shortly once DM and ICCM have left, when we plan to go trekking in 3 of the national parks here. 

However, our adventures did not stop with active volcano hiking. We have just returned today from the amazon basin where we had an amazing guide with hawk eyes who helped us spot everything from the channel billed toucan to the south american violin spider (at close quarters when we couldn-t run off… and it was very big, larger than a hand). Next we are back off to the countryside to a place called Mindo to see the rock chicken (apparently more spectaclar than its name) and lots of hummingbirds. We shall try to upload pictures soon, but the connection here is very slow and they have to be done one at a time, which is frustrating.

Right, so its a bit of a short post considering all that has happened. We haven-t had any pc time at all over the past couple of weeks, so apologies for it all coming in a bit of a quick babble now! Hope that you are all well!

Lots of love from us in Quito!

Faboli xxx

Hello again! We finally made it to Villa de Leyva after a 17 hour bus journey via Bogota. The journey was relatively uneventful – the typical speed frenzy and left side/right side of the road confusion on the part of our Shumacher wannabee driver. Oli is considering getting some travel sickness tablets before the next journey! There is very little to report about the journey – we ate cheese and mortadella sandwiches for 17 hours, managed not to fall over in the bus toilet, and slept a very little bit. When we got to Bogota at 4.30 am we had to change busses, and decided to hang around for the direct bus that left at 7 am. We boarded the bus, and were the only passengers leaving the terminal. The bus was duly sealed with its little security check piece of sticky paper over the door, and off we went. Or so we thought. Around the corner from the bus station, the driver pulled up abruptly, a man whipped the security seal off the door, and stuck it back on so that the door could be opened at any moment without ripping the seal, so that it would be intact at our destination. At this moment, the co-driver leapt into action, jumping out of his seat and hanging out the door shouting all possible destinations at anyone who happened to be standing by the side of the road. When there were no more people to shout at, he settled down for a few more minutes in his seat, the door was duly closed, until another person happened to be standing by the side of the road, and the process was repeated. Fab and Oli fell asleep to the dulcit tones of the co-driver, and awoke a couple of hours later to a completely full bus. Bribes were quickly exchanged at the other end, paperwork was ignored or refilled quickly for a few extra pesos here and there, and our drivers went home considerably richer than they would have been had the bus actually remained sealed. The trick is to get the seal off before the glue sets, it seems. We were happy that the bus was used for more than just us, as it was considerably more eco friendly, but it still was a bit of a surprise!
Since then, we have been in a very quiet little hotel in Villa de Leyva, and have been out fossil hunting (with some success!) and hiking a bit. We’ve also been enjoying the fact that the food here tastes like it should (they don’t put cooked lettuce on their pizzas here! Bliss…) Apart from that we’ve been trying to sit and chat about future plans, what on earth we are going to do with ourselves when the money runs out, and generally setting the world to rights with the aid of spider diagrammes, lists, internet searches and a wee bit of the inevitable bashing of head against the wall technique. The latter hasn’t done much apart from scaring a few woodlice in our room half to death (or worse, on occasion). Anyway, its a very complicated business, future planning. The world may be our oyster, but at the end of the day, what do you do with an oyster? All suggestions on a postcard please…

We’re off to Quito in 7 days, on the 30th of May. This is the day of the first round of elections for the new Columbian president, so Bogota could be interesting (!). We’re planning on not spending any time there, just getting to the airport as early as possible and getting out.

In other news… we have finally managed to upload some more pictures. Hope you enjoy them!

Love,

Faboli xxx

P.s. The anti-mosquito shirt works like a dream: Oli has no bites on the area it covers, but about 1 zillion on all the parts it doesn’t. So it is clear proof that it works! Pics included in order to gain some sympathy for both Fab and Oli. They itch. A lot.

The day after returning from our horse trek we were invited to eat with Hannibal and his family, which was lovely. They didn’t let us know what time to turn up though, and when we bumped into them in the street at about 12, they said “oh whenever, I’m heading home now so if it is in 10 minuts or 20, it doesn’t matter!”. So, we had decided to contribute to the dinner by cooking some rosti, so we peeled the potatoes as quickly as possible and ran over to their house at about 3. Clearly, we had been invited for dinner though, not lunch, but this did not faze our host and hostess. They served us up with lunch (rice, chicken, we gracefully declined the eggs) and then chatted to us and let us practice our Spanish for the next 5 or 6 hours until it was time to start preparing dinner. In celebration of finishing our trek, we had horse for dinner 🙂 (with rosti). The horse was cooked over a wood fire, carefully lit right next to a bamboo post that was supporting the roof, next to the talking parrot’s cage (it says “Hola! and “Coco”). It was a very pleasant afternoon and evening, swapping stories, showing photos and exchanging information on our different cultures. We actually managed to chat until about 10 pm, all in Spanish, until we wandered back to the hotel and slept for about 10 more hours! Now our bodies and brains are quite exhausted so we have taken a couple of days off to make soup (with veggies straight from the farmer’s market, where, by the way, you can buy every part of a cow or bull – from its head and horns, to its eyes, mouth, tongue, to its stomach, to its feet, which we have been told how to use to make gelatin, though we don’t know if we really need gelatin so will probably give that one a miss) and rest, while waiting for the rain to pass.

Bisous,

Faboli xxx

Hello again from San Agustin! Yes we are still here, since we have finally found a place where we can go walking without armed guards or the police coming along with us. It is a town with more horses than cars, some paved and some dirt streets, where parrots chatter happily and cockrels wake you up in the morning. All in all, it is a very very welcome change from capital cities and all the problems that come along with them. The downside is that this internet connection is slower than the slowest snail, so you probably won’t get to see all of our pictures this time around.
So, what have we been up to for the past 2 weeks? When we got out of the “bus” (read pickup truck) from Neiva, we were dropped right outside a tourist office, where we met Columbia, a very pleasant guide/ tourist information agent, who accompanied us to a hostel that was pretty cheap and had hot water. Later that day, her husband Hannibal stopped by to share a bottle of rum with us (a small bottle, which he more or less polished off all on his own), which acts as a Spanish lubricant. Its amazing how well we can speak Spanish sometimes. Anyway, Hannibal and his brother Silvio are guides that work a lot with horses, and our interest piqued at the thought of a 5 day horse trek through the Columbian highlands (yes the area that until recently was overrun by guerillas). Over the next few days, we explored the surruounding countryside, visiting El TAblon, Chaquira, Purutal and Pelota – all sites with statues and / or tombs and often having amazing views. We also went on a hike down to the Rio Magdalena which took us past shrines and through coffee plantations and bamboo forests (and through someone’s garden). It was lovely to be able to walk for the whole day, for free, without a guide, in the peace and quiet of the countryside. It looks a bit like Switzerland would if it were overrun by jungle, parrots, monkeys and perhaps a few huge cockroaches. A cunning plan developed over these few days, and we chose a trek for Fabrice, Olivia and the guide Hannibal (no one else) to visit 3 lakes – Lago de Magdalena, San Sebastian and Cuciyaco. The first day when we left San Agustin we had to get up at 5 am and kill about 10 of the giant cockroaches in the room and wander down to the “bus” (again, of the pickup truck variety). This bus was soon very crowded and had people hanging on the back of it when there was no more room outside. Cries of “oooh no una grande! Un grande mas!” echoed around the pickup when we got in and squeezed our larger-than-the-average-Columbian-sized-bums into a teeny space. We zoomed out of town and up into the mountains, on roads that made our larger-than-the-average-Columbian-sized-bums twitch a bit, especially when we met the inevitable bus coming the other way. We were accompanied along this rather perilous dirt track by a very fit, very crazy black dog, who ran with us all the way either yapping at the tires or leading the way with his tail held high, since clearly he knew the road better than any driver (of about 14 years old) could. Amazingly, it was not a suicide attempt of yet another starving pooch, and he lived to run all the way back down the trail again.
The “bus” stopped in what would be a one-horse town if it had cars and were not the start of a horse trek. We were fed a scrumtious meal of eggs, rice and hot chocolate by a breast-feeding 16 year old (a good age for child-bearing over here), before meeting our beasts of burden (mine shortly to be nicknamed bob for short, even though bob was a girl… reminded me of blackadder, but anyway, we’re getting distracted).
Now, a horse over here is not quite your average arabian stallion. It will not tower over you, muscles bulging as its steamy breath beats down on your neck (or head, depending on how tall you are). The B.O.B.s over here are lithe, often skinny, and are used to carrying maximum 80 kilos (Fab’s horse was not happy). Your feet won’t quite drag on the ground, unless the ground happens to rise up. So with our 3 horses, we started off up a pleasant dirt road into the highlands. The views were spectacular, amazingly green and lush, with farms dotted here and there. The horses behaved well, which was reassuring for 2 people who really don’t know much more about a horse than which end generally goes to the front and which end smells worse, unless it is on a plate. Soon the road dwindled to a trail about a foot wide, which was very picturesque. Then the fact that we were going up in the highlands made itself blatantly apparent as the rocks started. You wouldn’t believe that a horse, with no vibram coated horseshoes or anything of the sort, would climb up and down rocks like these without slipping more. Amazingly, we got off quite lightly, with Oli’s horse falling only once with no damage to Oli and Fab’s horse falling once also and headbutting him in the process (and possibly in protest). They slipped an aweful lot, but four legs comes in handy for catching your balance again. So we proceeded, clinging on and leaning back and foreward as appropriate until our thighs and buttocks could take no more! The jungle bits are green and lush for a reason though, so whenever we had to walk for a bit, it was generally through a stream which was in fact the trail. We had our trusty gaiters with us though which helped with this. The first evening we arrived in San Antonio. Its not a village as we thought, but a house. There might be another abandoned one over the ridge too, so its totally isolated. The house was inhabited by a family who kept chickens, cows, herbs and dogs and a very strange son (Fab says a bloody weirdo- its still an understatement). They fed us rice and eggs and chicken and soup, and then we plodded off to sleep (there was no electricity and it was very dark, and they were clearly saving on candles..). We were exhausted, so sleeping from 7 till 7 was an easy feat. We had only ridden for 4 hours that day. Little did we know that the next day entailed a 9 hour ride! We got up and had fish and rice and agua de panela (hot sugar water- very tasty) and rode down the trail over the bones of a dead cow. She had apparently died of old age. We rode through jungle so dense that it kept knocking the spot off our shoulders & our hats off our heads, through water and across bridges over roaring rivers, through marshland and up narrow gulleys (Fab was headbutted here and started walking). We walked through the marsh towards the Lago de Magdalena (shoes started leaking here). We rode a little more then got to very steep rocky parts and decided to give our B.O.B.s a break (either that or Fab wanted to eat his). We walked through the stream and mud until we arrived at Laoyola where we stayed with a charming family for the next 2 nights. We warmed our sodden feet by the fire in the guinea pig hut (farming them for food) while the Senora prepared us a feast of soup, rice, eggs and chicken, salad and plantain bread. That night we slept like logs again. Close to 12 hours. Day 3 we rested the horses and climbed on foot with a local guide and Hannibal up to the ridge to view the Lago Cuciyaco, which officially looks like a rabbit but Fab has decided has smaller ears like the guinea pigs we met the night before (cuy / couille in spanish – just like the noise they make). We then pushed our way through vegetation so thick that it took quite a bit of muscle power, and climbed down from the ridge the more direct way (it was a good job there were trees and vines to hang on to). The 2 guides gave us lots of useful information on flora and fauna in the region, and even poked around in a couple of bear turds for us. Not sure what we were supposed to see, but a bear turd, it would appear, looks like a cow turd with berries. In case you ever see one in the wild, now you will know what left it there. That evening our buttocks were feeling a little more rested as we settled down for our evening meal of eggs, rice and salad and plantain bread, then relaxed with the guinea pigs some more (we were more relaxed than the guinea pigs who were looking at us in absolute terror as recipies for cooking them were swapped over the fire, and “good tasty ones” were pointed out to us).
The next morning we arose bright and early and took the fastest shower ever in the 11 degree water, before heading off on the B.O.B.s again. This day was to be a high one, climbing up to 3,600m to give us amazing views of the Lago the San Sebastian and Lago de Magdalenda (the other side of it) through the clouds. It was the coldest pee Oli has had to have in a while – luckily Fab didn’t have the camera ready. We then rode down all the rocks again and back through the jungle and across the rivers and up the other rocks again back to San Antonio, to the family of the strange son, where we slept until 4 am, when they clearly thought it was time to get up, so they turned their battery operated radio on full blast to accordian music and bad singing, to motivate them to chop the wood outside our window. We were not amused. We said as much, but the damage had been done and we ate our eggs and rice for breakfast while weirdo son laughed at us (no idea why, he was just weird), and went on our way. We had to ride against the clock to get to the bus that left at 12 on the dot, but we made it, all the way down one valley over the rocks and up the other side over the rocks then down some more rocks to get back to the one foot wide trail, and finally to the dirt road, and finally back to the village (Quinchana). We were knackered, muddy, wet, smelly, and very happy to get off the B.O.B.s when we got onto the bus to go back home. This bus was a big bus, with seats in rows across it. And strangely, no central aisle. To get on, you just climbed up the side of the bus where it had openings foryou to go through to get to the row you wanted. This was the bus that took all the farmer’s produce into the market in San Agustin, so it stopped every kilometre or so to pick up crates of fruit and more people until it was stuffed to the brim and beyond (i.e. there were people sitting on top). Don’t forget, this big bus is going back down the perilous dirt track with the drop that goes down all the way to the bottom. We were glad to be inside the bus, although the lack of windows in this kind of transportation left us with great views. We went to a different hostel that night back in San Agustin with a private bathroom on our room, and took our first hot shower in 6 days and slept for 12 hours again. It was bliss. The trek was amazing, we would do it again, but 5 days is enough for our thighs and bums!

Faboli xxxx

Greetings from Columbia! We finally flew out of Panama (very relieved) and landed in Bogota on the 22nd April. When we got out of the airport, we were not accosted by a gazillion taxi drivers, vendors, bums and the like, and instead joined the organised queue to get a taxi for town. Once organised, the taxi ride into town was actually QUIET!!! This could be because we are either a) partially deaf after 2 weeks in Panama City or b) because people don’t honk their horn just to say that they are driving down the road (and ..beep… still driving down the road.. yes… beep… still driving.. beep beep… beep beep yeahhhh!).  We had read in the lonely planet about a nice budget hotel in the Candelaria called San Sebastien, so we went there to spend the night. We weren’t in the mood for walking around the whole city at that moment trying to find anything else, so we agreed to fork out 85,000 pesos for a room for the night (about 45 dollars, which by our standards, is super expensive). The room was huge. We had 2 pleather arm chairs and a table, complete with ashtray and smokey smell, and a very comfy bed, and a phone that would work for precisely 4.5 minutes before diverting the caller back to reception (naturally we must have left the phone off the hook…).  Oli blocked the toilet up after about 20 minutes of being there too (“I just wanted to see if we could flush toilet paper and we can’t…”).  We slept well though, but didn’t care to stay another night.  We moved to a far more friendly, cheap place the next day.  Bogota on a good night’s sleep is on the whole a great city.  We went out in the evening, on foot, unarmed, and had beers without being scared or worried about what was going to happen to us. We did not encounter any dodgy prostitutes, nor did too many homeless people bother us.  And, to top it all off, the food and drink was absolutely delicious. We had steak and chicken breast (not grissle or bones!!!) with salads and vegetables and wine and good beer. All in all it was a great relief!

We stayed in Bogota for several days, checking out information about national parks and where to go next, and decided to go to Villa de Leyva, about 2 hours north of Bogota. A very beautiful little village with some great hiking, an ostrich farm, and beautiful scenery. Olga, the lady who ran our hotel, kindly organised our tickets for us while we went out for the day.

We braved the local busses to get to Maloko, the science and technology centre which has a very hands on approach. So much so that you get to be locked in a meta cage while they run the equivalent of a lightening bolt through it, and then, when the sneaky laws of conduction of electricity meant that we didn’t get fried to a crisp, they told us to hold hands and then ran a smaller (but still electrifying) shock through the whole group. Aaah the fascinations of science.  We reckon though that all of the kids present will not be sticking their fingers into any light sockets any time soon though! 

The museum closed at 5, so, being “used to Bogota” we decided to get the collectivo chicken bus thing back to the hotel. We were staying in the region called the Candelaria, so when we saw this on the front of one of the busses, we asked the driver to make sure and then hopped on. We understood that it wasn’t the most direct route back, but that he was going to the Candelaria. After a while, the paved roads leading off to left and right seemed to be becoming dirt roads, and the centre of town was far behind us. Then up on the hill we saw the huge sprawling shanty town. We wanted to take photos but thought it would be a bad idea. Then suddenly, the bus, instead of going back down towards Bogota and the Candelaria of shiny lights and hotels and quaint buildings, took a right hand turn and went up into the shanty town. Oli pointed out the beautiful sunset over the city, but all in all the circumstances were a slight cause for concern. The locals on the bus had been checking us out with interest and wonder (for this, read blatantly staring at us and smsing their friends, possibly about the 2 clueless dumb lost tourists), and didn’t seem surprised when we asked them when the bus was going to go back to town and the candelaria. This question produced very long responses and lots of hand waving – us trying to signal “regresso” – “go back” and them signaling no no no… and finally a bit of understanding when someone said “Candelaria” and “dos” while holding up two fingers. Yes, there are in fact 2 Canderlarias in Bogota. The old one, which is quaint, pretty, and full of tourists and students, and the second, which is a huge shanty town. All this as the sun set beautifully over Bogota. The lady sitting next to us and the man who had been frantically smsing kindly escorted us to a bus that would take us back to the main bus lines so that we could get back to the other side of town, and waited with us until the bus turned up and told the driver we were very lost. They said that there weren’t really any tourists that came to see them there, and we reckon it must have given them a few interesting stories to share at dinner that evening!

We finally got back to our hotel at about 7.30, and our tickets for the next day were waiting for us, and Olga had gone home. We went out for a much deserved beer and some dinner, and came back to get an early night. At this moment, we realised we didn’t know where the bus was leaving from at 9 am. After a few discussions, Olivia asked what “Neiva” meant and why it was in the destination box. A few minutes later, we had found Neiva about 300km south of Bogota on the map. This explains why we are now sitting in a town that isn’t even mentioned in the Lonely Planet guide book, and doesn’t even give you many results when you google it online.  There are some things around here to do, such as walking in the Tatacoa desert and relaxing in hot springs, but it has been pouring down with rain (on a tin roof next door too) more or less since we arrived, so we haven’t done much at all apart from plod around town. The food here isn’t as good, but comes in huge quantities, so we made a homeless man very very happy when we gave him our doggy bag yesterday. Today, we bought tickets to go to San Agustin tomorrow morning, from where we should be able to do more hiking, see ruins, and escape the big cities for a while. 

So goes the story of how we ended up seeing more of Bogota than we had bargained for and how we ended up in a town that is totally off the tourist map. Not a bad experience at all, but we are looking forward to using our hiking boots soon.

Love,

Faboli

As you can see we are still in Panama City, since it is rather like hotel california… we just haven’t been able to get out of this place. We tried taking a boat – but no one ever got back to us with prices and times. We booked a ticket to Quito online, but there was a problem with the credit card (or more likely the site we were booking through) and the site requested us to send copies of passports, credit cards and all sorts of other details to an unknown fax number, and couldn’t confirm that the price of the tickets would be the same as the day we actually booked the flights since they had taken 2 days to tell us how we could actually pay for our flights. By the time they told us what to do, which sounded dodgy enough, it was 3 hours before take off. Needless to say they have received a stinky dissatisfied customer email. Failing that, yes we did consider more or less swimming out of here, but the water is a very nasty shade of grey and smells rather like raw sewage, which put us off. Yesterday we gave up on the budget travel thing, went to an agency, and found out that the cheapest flights were to Bogota, but that we needed an exit ticket too. We now have a ticket to Bogota tomorrow (wednesday) and an onward ticket to Quito for the 30th May. That should give us enough time to trek around Columbia or take Spanish lessons, whatever seems more viable when we get there.
Over the last 2 weeks we have got cabin fever and then gone a step further. When you find yourselves playing headlamp tag (you both wear headlamps, lie down on the bed and then try to “tag” the other beam of light with your beam of light. Its quite a neck workout…) you know it is bad. When it is too dangerous to go out at night, the restaurant downstairs serves meat that has gone off that wasn’t what you ordered in the first place, and the only people on the street are prostitutes (more on that later) and you can’t walk 2 blocks, you know it is time to leave.
We have tried several different hotels during our stay. We arrived at 3 am so went to the hotel that was suggested by the cab driver. That was fine, but we found a cheaper one next door. After being in the hotel for a bit, we looked out the window and found it strange that there was a red light outside it. Later on we discovered that we were spending our first night ever in a very pinky red room that was in a sort of bordello hotel. Also, we encountered an indigenous prostitute. This made a change from your average lady of the night who is generally scantilly clad in PVC, leather, latex or something similar. This particular lady was probably about 40 years old, and was in the indidgenous dress from this area. Calves wrapped in beads, patterned – very designer – and printed cotton cloth wrapped around to form a long skirt, and a cotton printed blouse and head scarf. From the number of times we saw her with different partners, it would seem that she was a very popular choice!

The difference between the rich and the poor here is just astounding. Earlier this week we decided to visit the Casco Viejo (old town) by foot, but it was such a ghetto that we really didn’t feel safe. Since then, we have met up with a friend of Fab’s from college and he and his girlfriend have been wonderful, showing us around and being perfect hosts. They took us back to the Casco Viejo, and once you get through the ghetto gauntlet, it is really beautiful. We went there again for dinner last night (no chicken and rice!!) Also, they introduced us to “VIP cinema” – a concept that would definitely take off in Geneva. You have a huge leather couch for 2 people, which reclines all the way back. If that weren’t good enough, there is a little button in the arm rest that sends a hostess to you to take your order for anything from drinks and popcorn to crepes. Very very good idea. The film – clash of the titans – wasn’t all that great, but the cinema was well worth it!
We also finally made it out to the Panama Canal. This is one thing that is really worth visiting in Panama. We could sit watching the massive cargo boats and oil tankers and the occasional passenger ship going through the gigantic locks. Plus, by 2014 they are building even bigger locks to take even bigger boats.

Today we are just trying to cancel the TIKA bus tickets that we had to buy when we entered Panama, since we now have an onward ticket out of the country. Getting here by bus was a pain. The bus arrived at the border from Costa Rica at about 11 pm, and we had to get out of the bus and walk across the border, dealing with both exit and entry procedures. When we found the entry border, after waiting in line, we were told that we couldn’t enter without an exit ticket, hence why we have tickets back to Costa Rica.

We are really looking forward to getting to a place that actually has some culture still. Panama is just either dirt poor and scraping by, trying to survive, and is just dangerous, or else it is rich and you may as well be in the states. The malls look the same, have the same stores, the food is the same. It is a great shame that Panama City doesn’t have more to offer the non-business tourist other than lots of noise, crazy traffic and a (very impressive) canal. They are trying to make an effort (for example rebuilding the old town) to attract other types of tourism other than business, but it has a long way to go. Perhaps other parts of the country are more interesting, but from what we have heard, eco tourism is but a name, and most tourists who love the country do so only because they can drink all night and surf all day (for example in Bocas del Toro), which isn’t really our thing. We can’t wait to get out of here finally!

Thanks for all the votes! And who told us to walk across the Darien Gap??!!! Crazy nut… 🙂

Bisous,

Faboli xxx