Bolivia

To La Paz

We cruised over to Bolivia on Hydrofoil and stopped off at Sun Island, spiritual home of the Incas. All potential Inca kings had to spend 3 weeks here being prepared for leadership and examined by the high priests that used to live on the island. If the priests thought the future king unfit, then he would be killed and sacrificed. If passed OK, the king would be crowned and would return to Cusco to rule.

Our guide told us that immigration into Bolivia used to be a real hassle as the officials always wanted money. Eventually, the travel agency gave in and agreed to pay them. So now we get 5 star service. 2 officials came up to us during lunch and politely asked for our passports and then retuned them 10 minutes later duly stamped. Now that’s service. I think we’d all pay a little extra for that.

We cruised over to the mainland for a 90 minute drive to La Paz over similar terrain to the high plateau that we crossed on our train journey to Cusco. Our guide, Raul, had great fun terrorising us with tales of revolution. The locals don’t really recognise the government. Every time they find something not to their liking they take the law into their own hands and start to blockade the roads. On one occasion, his driver was whipped for trying to break a blockage to get a guest to the airport in time for his plane.

We approached La Paz from high on the plateau, and the first view of the city as it nestles in a canyon below is very impressive. It has an amazing location, with the ever present Illampu Mountain standing proudly over the city guarding its people. There’s 9 million people in Bolivia and most of them live in La Paz or its neighbouring overspill city El Alta, where most of the workers live. Countless minibuses deliver the people into La Paz each morning.

Next day, we embarked on the obligatory city tour. There’s not much to see in the way of architecture. The Spanish seem to have been particularly uninspired here. Still, there’s a really nice atmosphere, the residents managing to be frantic and laid back at the same time.

La Paz is consumed by a gigantic market that takes over half the city. You can buy anything here as long as it’s counterfeit. From CDs, designer wear and watches to Inca relics. All ridiculously cheap. I bought a copy of windows XP for less than 1$, hoping to use it to revive my ailing laptop. With all Nike, Reebok, Adidas and co gear now being made in China, I don’t think there’s any difference in quality between the copies and the real thing.

Something went badly wrong with our agency booking as, having just spent a day cruising lake Titicaca on our private hydrofoil, we found ourselves travelling from La Paz to Uyini by public bus and train. PUBLIC TRANSPORT. IN BOLIVIA. ARE YOU SERIOUS? Actually, it wasn’t too bad. The 3 and a half hour bus journey took us to Oruro without breaking down, where we boarded a super slow train for 7 hours and finally arrived in Uyini at 2:20 a.m. On the train I had what must be the worst meal of the trip (please), Spaghetti Bolognese. Imagine a tin of Heinz Spaghetti heated up with diced beef checked in, served with a side dish of soap shavings pretending to be Parmesan.

Uyini is home to the largest salt lake in the world. One of two facts that Bolivia is famous for; that and for having more presidents than anyone else in the last hundred years. How did all this salt get here, I hear you ask. Well, it wasn’t an EU salt mountain that was dumped in South America to placate Saxa. No, it was formed by minerals washed there from the surrounding mountains. The rain water has nowhere to go and is evaporated by the strong sun leaving a massive plateau of almost pure salt.

We paid a short visit to a salt factory. These are all small family run businesses. The salt is cut from the lake in blocks, smashed up, and then ‘cooked’ over an open fire to remove the impurities. The salt crackles as it cooks sounding like popcorn. It’s then ground and bagged by children – 2000 bags a day. All of Bolivia’s table salt is produced like this, costing 1 Boliviano a bag – about 6p

The lake really is large, like a skating ring for giants, an enormous latte (Imagine a size up from Venti), Pete Docherty’s cocaine stash, Mama Cass’ bed sheets. OK, it’s big and white. It’s fringed by mountains and volcanoes on all sides giving an otherworldly feel. Those mountains again – we must be in the Andes. The reflected glare from the sun is extremely powerful and ‘snow’ blindness is a real possibility here. Sun glasses are an absolute must, preferably two pairs together. I had to adjust the camera to reduce the exposure as otherwise all the photographs came out as white. The salt dries in hexagonal plates; something to do with the molecular shape of sodium chloride, so the guide told us, but that could have been made up on the spot.

Nothing can live in this environment. No vegetation, no animals, birds or insects – nothing, nada - absolute desert. It’s not a great environment for vehicles either as the salt rots them petty rapidly. I imagined our land cruiser dissolving in front of our eyes leaving us sitting in the middle of the lake with nothing left but the rubber wheels. 4 wheel drive is mandatory here as Bolivia only has 6 roads and they’re all in or into La Paz.

In the middle of the lake is a rocky atoll called Fish Island, named due to its appearance from a distance. Unbelievably, this is covered by giant cactus, up to 10 metres tall, with rabbits , mice and birds all somehow scraping by.

We stayed near the lake in a salt hotel built of, yes you guessed it, salt. This is obviously a bit of a tourist gimmick, but the salt blocks used are surprisingly durable, having similar characteristics to concrete blocks, and a similar appearance too, except white of course.

As usual we were the only guests. This was typical of our stay in the Bolivian desert. We felt more like travel ambassadors than tourists. Hotel managers were weeping when we left, not knowing when their next guests might arrive.

This part of Bolivia is a truly wild, desolate, remote and staggeringly beautiful place. We left the salt lake in our 4 wheel drive which finally gave way to scrub, a barren, rocky landscape punctuated by a few grassy stubs and yellow, green short bushes supporting the occasional Vicuña that peered at us inquisitively as we drove past in a cloud of dust. We were heading to a series of about a dozen mineral lakes clustered together, each with different colours caused by the predominant mineral deposited in the water. There’s red lakes, green, blue, pink – most are populated by thousands of pink Flamingos that somehow find something to eat in the heavy, acrid waters.

The most astonishing lagoon is Lake Colorado which manages to be blue, green, red and white all at once; a photographers’ wet dream. This really does look like another planet, with no sign of vegetation here, just dazzling colours reflecting the stark, lifeless mountains. And of course, just us. I’ll put some pictures on the blog and I promise that I haven’t doctored them. It really does look like this.

We finally took leave of this awesome landscape and swapped transport and took the road to Chile. We were soon back in the first world, and we both cheered as we came to a real, metal road after about 5 kilometres. This is the main haulage route in the north between Chile and Argentina, where the three countries meet. There’s a forlorn looking signpost for Bolivia pointing to the dirt track that we had just traveled, like an after thought as if the Chileans can’t understand why anyone would want to go there. After all, they couldn’t be bothered to invade past this point.

The road plummets alarmingly downwards from over 4000 metres to our destination 45 minutes away at Atacama at 2400 metres. The road is littered with car and lorry wreckage accompanied by roadsides shrines to lost loved ones, but we managed to navigate it safely enough.

Overall Boliva Ratings

People 8
Landscape 10
Food 5
Coffee 0
Roads Not Applicable

Peru

Lima
We didn’t spend much time in Lima as the guide book description gave us the impression that it is a bit of a shit hole. However, we were pleasantly surprised by the old town. There’s a lot of impressive colonial architecture adorning the large squares, and of course, plenty of churches. It also felt safer than billed, although we didn’t wander away from the well policed main areas.

Our hotel was a beautiful, grand building in one of the richer suburbs overlooking the Lima golf course. Unfortunately, it was a hugely popular place for weddings, and our two nights there were interrupted by the constant celebrations of the various wedding parties.

In the bar we were treated to the worst female singer in the world, who was masquerading as the evening’s entertainment. We’ve never heard anyone so poor, even in Kareoke bars, if you exclude me, that is.

Lima is a massive city, home to 8 million personas (notice the Spanish, we’re practically fluent now. Dos cerveza, vino blanco, vino tinto, gin y tonic.) – most of them living in shanty towns clinging to the surrounding hills, and occasionally glimpsed through the smog, dust and mist.

The poverty is never far away. We were approached by one desperate man for money who was literally crying for mercy, poor soul. Our guide called over the police who moved him on. Moments later we were inside an opulent colonial house that had been in the same family for generations. The contrast between rich and poor couldn’t be sharper than here.

Cusco
Cusco is now home to 800,000 people following a population explosion in the last 10 years, but manages to maintain the feel of a small town. In part, I think, to a policy of not allowing buildings to be constructed over six stories high due to concerns over earthquakes. All of the buildings are roofed with the same terracotta tiles, making it very picturesque.

Cusco is our base for exploring the remains of the famous Inca civilisation which was brought to an abrupt end by the Spanish in the 16th century. We didn’t have to travel far for our first glimpse as many of the buildings in the old town where we were staying are built on top of Inca ruins, the dark, smooth granite blocks making up the first few rows.

We spent some time touring the surrounding area visiting Inca rest houses, Inca terraces, and ruined temples. There really is a lot to see. Many of the terraces are still in use today by farmers growing corn or potatoes.

One site, the Zig zag remains, is a major attraction. It has been named “Zig zag” because of the topography of the remains. All of the original names have been lost as the Incas left no written record.

Most of the ruins, except Machu Picchu, have been destroyed by the Spanish, particularly the temples as they were trying to promote Catholicism.

We spent a few hours at a market at Pisac, which was a little disappointing, with everyone selling the same factory produced stuff for tourist consumption. Alpaca jumpers, hats and gloves, Machu Picchu t-shirts, jewellery etc.

Near Cusco is the sacred valley, a fertile farming region and home to lots of ruins. There’s lots of small villages here all making a living out of farming corn or potatoes. The valley is extremely fertile so crops are grown all year round. The buildings are all built from mud bricks, called adobe houses. You’d think that they would wash away in the rainy season, but they are more durable than you would think. They still apparently need fairly major maintenance once a year.

Machu Picchu
Of the many ways to travel to Machu Picchu, including the famous Inca trail, we chose the Hiram Bingham train, named after the American who rediscovered the ruins in 1911.

The trip from Poroy, near Cusco, to Machu Picchu is only 75km, but the train contrives to make this last 3 and a half hours, and you wouldn’t want it to go any quicker as it ambles through some breathtaking scenery. The route runs alongside the Urubamba river as it tumbles violently and impatiently towards the Amazon.

The train is fabulous, all wood paneling and brass. There are only 4 coaches; 2 for the passengers, 1 for the kitchen where the chef knocks out wonderful food, and the last carriage is a lounge and bar with an observation deck. Give the designer a medal.

Feeling wonderfully pampered and privileged, we arrived in Machu Picchu town, and embarked on one of the many coaches that wind their way up to the ruins. Twenty minutes later and we were passing through the entrance gate to receive our first glimpse of this breath-taking place.

Despite its world renown, Machu Picchu surprised us. The first surprise is that it is located in the rainforest, so back into mossie territory. Although considerably lower than Cusco, it feels higher due to the immense, vertical mountains that surround it. It’s a huge site, with terraces stretching to the limits of the mountain that it sits on. Even in the off season, it attracts 1200 visitors a day. Despite this, it is not crowded at all. The other surprise was that it isn’t a let down. It’s hyped so much that we were worried that it wouldn’t live up to expectations, but it is a really miraculous place. If it wasn’t here, for real, you wouldn’t believe it was possible.

It’s actually situated on top of a mountain. God knows why they built it there, as there’s a perfectly good valley floor with accompanying river below. The reason the ruins are so intact is that the Spanish never found it. Apparently, they weren’t too keen on venturing into the jungle.

The Incas liked a step or two, and getting around can be quite tiring, especially given the altitude. Day 1 was OK and we were feeling not too puffed. You need to take great care at the edges of the site as the terraces drop away vertically hundreds of metres to the valley floor below. There’s no safety railings here. God knows how many tourists they ‘lose’ each year. Our guide, the lovely, diminutive Adriana, encouraged us to take on one of the two popular walks that start from the ruins. So, day 2, full of Adriana’s misplaced confidence, we commenced our ascent of Wynu Pichu, which is the mountain that is in the background of all the postcards. It’s not a serious climb requiring rope and tackle, but it is bloody steep, and you need a head for heights. We finally made it to the top after many stops to catch our breath. The views at the top were indeed spectacular, and there are more Inca ruins and terraces here. The archaeologists think that the Incas used it as a look out point. Imagine having to walk up that every day to clock on.

The descent nearly killed us as our legs started turning to jelly, but we eventually made it back to the starting point to proudly enter our names into the log at the gate.

Lake Titicaca
I’ve had a stomach ache for 3 weeks now, and I’ve become fairly well acquainted with Messers Armitage and Shanks. Still, small price to pay for being in such wonderful scenery. My laptop us refusing to boot, making strange clanking noises as if it, too has ingested something it can’t get rid off. It has since made a partial recovery but is still a bit flakey, so if you’re trying to contact us, it’s probably best to copy emails to garyandmags@hotmail.co.uk

We left Cusco by train headed for Puno on the shore of Lake Titicaca. Yes, I thought it was fictional too. This is a wonderful, all day train journey climbing up into the Andean highlands above the tree line, where the only vegetation appears to be a sinewy grass that somehow sustains herds of Alpaca and Lama. The route is guarded on both sides by colossal mountains. We passed through a desperate, half built city in the Altiplano called Juliaca, which allegedly is the commercial centre of the region. All of the buildings are unfinished with steel rods poking skywards from the concrete building blocks to support future floors that will never be built. Peruvians pay more tax on finished buildings, so this is a common site. Mortgages are also extremely rare, so people start building before they have enough funds to finish their home. They build one floor, and then build the next when they have saved up enough funds a few years later. This half finished look makes the place look like a ghost town, expect that the residents forgot to leave.

Lake Titicaca lies between the Andean mountain ranges where they split in two at the Sothern end of Peru. All the rain falling on the mountains runs into the valley between the mountain ranges where it is trapped to form this huge lake.

The lake is shared by Bolivia and Peru, with a maniacal border running across the water. There’s a natural harbour at Puno which is 60% covered in reeds. Some of the people have taken to living in these reeds on floating islands. We visited a couple and were amazed to find a real, working community. We’d expected to find a few families hamming it up for the tourists, re-enacting a lifestyle long since extinguished by modern ‘progress’. But there’s actually 30 or so families living on these reed islands, sustaining themselves mostly by fishing.

Next stop Bolivia which is economically on a par with Tower Hamlets.

Overall Peru Rating

People 7
Food 7
Scenery 10
Inca Ruins 10
Andean Flute music 1

The Amazon Jungle

We’re in the Amazon, and its raining.

The journey to our lodge was an adventure in itself, starting with a short 30 minute flight from Quito. On our way into land we had a good view looking down on the rainforest. The canopy is packed so densely that it looks like an enormous broccoli floret from the air.

We landed at Coca, a ramshackle, frontier town built on the proceeds of oil exploration in the region. We hopped into a motorised canoe on the Napa river, imagining a relaxing chug downstream. Actually, this canoe really motors, and it needed to as we had a 60km journey ahead of us that took 2 hours. So we both increased our lifetime canoe miles by, well……………. 120 kms. We probably should have joined a canoe miles programme. The Napa river is one of the major tributaries of the Amazon, and is a significant river in its own right stretching from 1 to 2 kms wide and running for 700 kms. We disembarked and hiked through the jungle for 30 minutes before arriving at a canal. Here we piled into more canoes, but hand powered this time. After 100 metres the canal opens up into an impossibly scenic lagoon, like a secret Elven hideaway from a Tolkien novel.

The locals describe the water in the lagoon as black water, and it is indeed black. The colour is a result of all the leaves and dead wood that falls into it, which rots releasing tannins. This also makes the water acidic and Mosquito lava can’t survive there – hurrah!
The Napa river itself is described as white water, but it is actually mud brown with all the silt.

Our guide surprised us on the first night at the end of dinner by suggesting we take a night walk. Let’s go into the jungle full of scary creatures, known and unknown in complete darkness. Great idea, we’ll lead the way. Yes, we’d had a few glasses of wine by then. The walk was probably the best we did, as a lot of the wildlife is nocturnal, and the cacophony of sound in the jungle at night is amazing.

Our native guide was called Seconda, a hard, wiry man of incredible strength. He carried a gigantic machete that he used to clear the path at the head of the group. If Paul Hogan had shown Seconda his knife, Seconda could have replied “That’s not a knife”

His wife makes bags from fibers of a particular palm tree. Incredibly strong and decorative. 10$ each. “Absolutely” we enthused. “We’ll take two”, seriously anxious not to piss him off.

The lake is inhabited by Piranha and Caiman, although it’s apparently safe to swim in. Like the intrepid travelers we are, and having just swum with Sharks and Sting Rays, we jumped straight to the bar.

The jungle is full of natural medicines. Here’s just 3 of the ones that were mentioned to us.

- The bark of one tree that accelerates child birth
- The jungle rose that is used as a contraceptive by women – this is boiled and the resultant liquor drunk providing 4 months respite, but too much can cause sterility.
- The red sap from the bark of another tree that is good for healing cuts and sores, ingested it is good for stomach ulcers, and is also applied to mosquito bites. Mags rubbed it on a cold sore and it really eased the throbbing.

Our English speaking guide was a biologist from Quito called Oscar – Oscar of the Wilde. He’s definitely a glass is half full person, usually beer.

Everything we spotted was “Good for you, guys”.
“Hey Oscar, look at that blade of grass!”
“Good for you, Guys”

Oscar was telling us about his trip to London one night over dinner and Mags actually said to him, “Good for you, Oscar”. I nearly choked on my fried plantain, but Oscar didn’t seem to notice.

It is the rainforest and water lovers will not be disappointed. In the brief periods in between downpours, steam rises up from the tree tops. It’s so humid here that the air is literally wet and nothing dries. We were reading in bed on the first night and noticed that the pages of our books were beginning to get damp. Showers are available, but not really necessary.

Naturally, we saw lots of creatures during our stay, although the wildlife is not as accommodating as the Galapagos. (Ok, David Attenborough, it can be tricky sometimes.). We did manage to spot the following animals, although sometimes it was only a fleeting glimpse.
- Tarantulas;
- 3 kinds of monkeys. Just small ones but superb athletes jumping from tree to tree;
- Spiders;
- Leaf cutting ants. These are amazing creatures. You see them marching to and fro between trees and their nest carrying leaves 4 times their size. They don’t actually eat the leaves, but grow fungus on them, and they eat that; fungus farmers. Try saying that after a few beers.
- Dozens of species of birds including pigeons, a stinky turkey so called because it eats, regurgitates its food and eats it again. The food starts to ferment, hence the smell and the name; swallows, toucans, vultures. It’s a real bird twitchers paradise. Bill Oddie would have kittens here, or at least chicks;
- Bats;
- Dozens of different ants, some of which were scary large;
- A cuddly toy (Gift shop).

On our last night we were treated to a barbecue on the terrace overlooking the lagoon. Being so close to the mosquito free lagoon, we foolish donned our shorts. Not a good idea as we were soon slapping our lags like a demented Austrian folk dancer. G’day mate.

Overall Ecuador Rating

People 9
Food 7
Wildlife 10
Scenery 9
Flamenco dancing 2

Quito Take 2

A short stop in Quito on the way to the Amazon, but enough time for a day out at Otavalo, a native Indian market. Otavlao is a small city to the north of Quito, largely populated by native Indians who, unusually for an indigenous people, are relatively prosperous with average wages higher than the rest of Ecuador. They are famous for their textiles which they export internationally. We’d decided that no circumstances would we be tempted to buy anything, as we were determined not to add to our baggage. So we bought a Panama hat, a shirt, a necklace, bracelet, and a table cloth. Iron wills, us. Its great fun bargaining as the initial asking price is typically double what you end up paying. I’m sure the wily Indians got the better of us anyway.

Galapagos

Day 1
Finally, a place where there is no Starbucks. Galapagos, so remote that your average Kiwi would feel right at home.

Now for the geology bit…… The Galapagos consist of 13 volcanic islands, 600 miles to the west of Ecuador, on the equator. It has been formed over millions of years due to a hot spot in the earth’s crust that precipitates underwater volcanoes from time to time. Occasionally, these volcanoes are so great that they break through the ocean surface and create new islands. Galapagos is situated on the Nazca plate which moves steadily eastwards and is dragged under the South American plate. The islands move east with the plate, but the hot spot remains put. Thus, several new islands are formed over time rather than just one large island, and some, of course, are lost to the east as they are pulled back under the ocean. All of this takes gazillions of years, so don’t expect to be hearing about new islands appearing overnight on the news. There are still plenty of active volcanoes located to the west where the hot spot is.

We arrived in San Cristobal, one of 4 inhabited islands, via a short stop in Guayaquill. The harbour is only minutes away, and before long, we were embarking onto the Alta, a 3 masted yacht that would be our home for the next week.


After a short cruise, we anchored near a beach, piled into wet suits and flippers and jumped into the water, which we shared with some playful and inquisitive sea lions and a ray. The sea lions swim up to you quickly and come very close. Just when you think that they are going to collide with you, they veer gracefully away. They’re amazing swimmers. One of them came out of the sea at the same time as me, and waddled along side of me for a while on the sand. “Not so clever on dry land are you?” I taunted.

Just a great feeling being in the sea – it’s been a long time for us land lubbers.

Over cocktails before dinner we had to undergo the cringe making, self introduction routine. Our group consists of 5 English, jolly good chaps; 4 Dutch, herdy gerdy, 2 Americans from North Florida, y’awll; 1 Scot, aye, with his Ecuadorian toy boy, si; and 1 Aussie, strewth its Mags.

We started getting to know each other after dinner when Martin, our Scot, let slip that he used to teach salsa and them gave us an impromptu beginner’s lesson in Salsa dancing. Strictly come dancing – I don’t think so. But at least we could blame the rocking of the boat for our dodgy footwork.

Martin is a really interesting and charming person. He works for the development agency, attached to the foreign office. After a three year stint in Angola, he has now started a new posting in Nicaragua which he was planning to resume after his holiday and a conference in Barbados. He wasn’t fooling us though – definitely a spy.

There were also two lovely American ladies, Suzie and Jackie, who are well traveled, which let’s face it, is unusual for people from their neck of the woods. They have a home in Florida, but are now living in a ginormous motor home in Phoenix, where Jackie works. They take off traveling most weekends.

Day 2
We sailed all night to reach our next destination, Genovesa..

When we booked the cruise, we imagined being gently rocked to sleep as glide smoothly over the Pacific Ocean. That’s what the brochure said. The reality was everyone over to the left side of the bed, followed a few moments later by everyone over to the right side of the bed. Our cabin was also situated above the engine room so we didn’t get much sleep on our first night.

After breakfast, we all jumped into the launch and headed off for a walk on the island. We landed on to some rocks at the waters edge and climbed a few steps where we caught our first glimpse of the Galapagos seabirds up close. An incredible sight as the area was filled with birds sitting around oblivious to our presence. We seemed to be invisible. The birds let you come within inches to photograph them. They are not at all afraid. In fact, we discovered during the week that all the wildlife on the islands is like this. So, David Attenborough, the game is up. Trying to con us into thinking it takes weeks of patience and dedication to film wildlife. It’s easy.


Genovesa, like many of the islands is incredibly dry. Being on the equator, the Galapagos doesn’t have 4 seasons, just 2; wet and dry. We arrived at the end of the dry season so much of the habitat hadn’t seen rain for six months. In many of the islands, areas just don’t receive any rain all year round. Where there are volcanoes, the rain falls on one side of the mountain and gets trapped, never reaching over to the other side. This makes for some astonishingly barren landscapes, - luneresque. Nevertheless, vegetation still manages a foothold in most places. On Genovesa, red footed boobies nest in leafless, white, dead looking bushes that have developed a way of photosynthesising using only their bark.

The Galapagos are famous, of course, for inspiring Charles Darwin to formulate his theory of evolution through natural selection, first proposed in his seminal work, Origin of Species. Genovesa is completely pristine and looks today just as it would have done to Darwin in 1834.

Day 3
Another overnight journey, but we are now sea salty old hands and made sure we had extra wine with dinner. Knocked us out a treat.

We arrived at Isabela, the largest island on Galapagos, and headed off for a walk up the side of Lake Darwin, a collapsed volcano. We encountered some dragon flies, bees, and a beautiful, multi coloured painted locust.

Isabella has 5 active volcanoes which could be a bit of a worry, but the Galapagos volcanoes are not as dangerous as others as they are not explosive, spewing out lots of burning ash. Eruptions just bring lava flows, which is obviously not good news if you’re in the way, but can easily be avoided.

In the afternoon we cruised over to Fernandina, a short distance to the west of Isabella for a walk around iguana central. There were hundreds of marine iguanas lying on the solidified lava flows, baking in the sun, These incredible, prehistoric creatures grow to about 60cm in length and, when sufficiently warmed up, swim around in the shallows feeding in the algae that grow on the rocks. Ugly buggers.

Also on the island were some flightless cormorants. These weigh 4 to 6 kilos when fully grown and would need a 3 metre wingspan if they were to fly. Instead, they have taken to the seas and are now expert swimmers, diving for fish. Their wings are now short, stubby and useless.

Later on, after dinner, we starting chatting away to Bob and Bren, 2 of the English contingent. Anyway, we were enjoying ourselves supping a few brandies, but the barman was nowhere to be seen, so we decided to help ourselves. I think the measures were a tad larger the standard. After a couple of rounds we realised that two thirds of the bottle was gone - so we thought we’d better finish it.


Day 4

Day 4 was a quiet day for us. We had a lie in - I wonder why, and decided to skip the breakfast and the morning activities. Just as well as 2 of the girls got stung by jellyfish, and Mags would definitely have copped it, turning instantly into elephant woman.

I did manage a little light snorkeling in the afternoon, and found myself swimming with the cormorants and a penguin. The Galapagos penguins move incredibly quickly, flying through the water.

We also swam into a cave that was turtle city. These quiet, placid creatures glide gently through the seas and are content to cruise along side swimmers and divers. I swam with one for a full 3 minutes.

Day 5
We spent day 5 on Santiago and embarked on a hill climb before breakfast. There was absolutely negligible green, and it was probably the driest and most desolate place we visited. This island has had relatively recent volcanic activity and has black lava fields where the elements have yet to oxidize them and turn them brown. Subsequently, hardly anything can grow here. Conversely, its waters are rich with plankton, and this attracts numerous fish which, in turn, sustains a large population of sea birds.

The walk to the top wasn’t too strenuous and we were rewarded with magnificent views of a number of volcanic craters.

Back at bottom, w e saw a Pelican eating a fish whole. This was hilarious, as the fish was almost too large for it to swallow, so it had to make several attempts to get it down.

More snorkeling after breakfast. The sea was clear and provided probably the best visibility of the trip. There were lots of fish, and we saw a reef shark – harmless, but quite scary to be in the water with it.

We then swam to the beach, and walked a short distance across sand dunes through mangroves to a second beach, where there were 4 white tipped reef sharks swimming in the shallows, with two turtles mating. A conversation I had with an Australian lady at the beach who I’d never met before.

“You English, right?”
“Yes”
“See those turtles over there, one on top of the other?”
“Yes”
“Well, when one gets on top of the other like that, it means they’re mating. You wouldn’t know that being English”

Day 6

We spent the entire day on land at Santa Cruz, the most populous and developed island.

We had a fellow Chelsea fan on-board, Mike who, like us, had been sweating on the Man United versus Chelsea result all week. Mike has a few season tickets for Chelsea and has promised to let us know if and when he has any spares. Mike, if you’re reading this blog, you’re a top bloke. I don’t care what the others said. We came across an internet café in the town centre and popped in to find the result. 1-1, but we were away, so a good result. Unfortunately, we also found out the cricket score which had been looking bleak for England when we left. Australia won by, well, a cricket score. Mags was insufferable.

The highlight on Santa Cruz was the Giant Tortoises. These were hunted mercilessly by pirates and early settlers. No surprise, they’re not difficult to catch. Some sub-species are extinct as a result but, thankfully, they are now protected. We visited a farm in the highlands where we saw about 20 of these magnificent creatures lazing about. They appear to spend all their time sleeping or eating slowly.

We visited the Charles Darwin centre in the afternoon, where they run a breeding programme to try to increase their numbers and reintroduce them to islands where they have been wiped out. There’s one poor tortoise there, lonesome George. He’s the last known individual of his sub-species so, unless they find another or clone him, that sub species will be extinct too.

Day 7
Our last day was a real highlight, on Espanola island. This is the only breeding ground for the wave albatross. It was the end of the breeding season when we visited. Most of the mature birds had left for the high seas, but there were a smattering of juveniles still there and some fledglings. These are large, heavy birds with a comical face and an even funnier walk. We were lucky to see one taking off close up. An incredible sight as it needs a fair run up to get enough speed and lift for take off. Although clumsy in the ground, they are awesome in the air, hardly needing to flap their massive wings to stay airborne.

Espanola is also home to a colony of blue footed boobies. Yes, they really do have blue feet. Like the albatross, they dance to attract a mate. Dance may be putting it a bit strong, they sort of lift one leg up, put it back down, then lift the other leg. Very entertaining.

The boobies are all expert fishermen. There are three, the Nazca, the red footed and the blue footed. They dive headfirst into the sea to catch their prey. The Nazca is the fastest, reaching speeds of up to 60 miles per hour and diving up to 30 metres. The Nazca boobie can become punch drunk from the repeated diving into the sea at high speed.

We had one last snorkel where we saw three sting rays, like the ones that did for Steve Irwin. We didn’t get too close though.

Finally, we had to leave. What a fantastic and enthralling place. We had a great crew who looked after us. Our guide, Nicolas, answered all of our stupid questions patiently and even made a souvenir DVD for us, for a few dollars naturally. So you can see for yourselves when we get back, if DVDs are still in use by then. Our fellow passengers were all lovely and interesting people. That is, except Heine. Well, there’s always one, isn’t there? This Dutch lady just wasn’t happy about anything. The food, the air con, her cabin, having to get up too early. I thought she was a little strange during the introductions when she insisted in the guide trying to pronounce her name correctly. Now I know that it’s not great when your name is mispronounced, but she’s Dutch, she should be used to it. The rest of us just don’t have the vocal skills. She soon became known as HF, for Hatchet Face. We all had great fun bitching about her. Everyone kept saying that they felt sorry for her husband. I wasn’t. He married her.

The Galapagos is a hassle to get to but well worth the effort, and more. I think everyone who visits (except HF) must have a terrific time, even people not that interested in wildlife. The scenery is stunning and the snorkeling is jaw dropping. If you still don’t fancy it, you can just lay about sun bathing in the perfect climate.

Oh, and I didn’t even mention the whales and dolphins swimming alongside the boat.

Off to the Amazon next. It’s a hard life. 

Quito

We left behind the land of the free and set off for South America, first stop Ecuador. So, goodbye to New York and hello to Quito where the first language is Spanish. No change there, then.

Quito is the capital of Ecuador, situated in the Highlands, nestling at 2800 metres high in a valley between a volcanic mountain range. It’s the first time I’ve arrived by plane where we didn’t descend. We just flew in and landed.

The altitude takes a while to adjust to. It takes a few days for your body to manufacture extra red blood cells to compensate for the lack of oxygen. Even at rest, you need to breathe more often to begin with.

Day 1 commenced with a morning tour of the old town. This was built by the Spanish during colonial rule commencing with the conquest in 1534. More accurately, it was built by the natives with the Spanish supervising.

No surprise that there are churches everywhere. The Spanish tried to get the locals to build classical Catholic churches, and generally succeeded, but our guide pointed to several symbols and decorations that the natives managed to sneak in from their own religion, with the Spanish clueless at the time. In the seventies and eighties, this quarter was abandoned by the wealthy as security deteriorated. Now, it t is undergoing a renaissance, with the old, grand houses being restored as smart new hotels or restaurants. It was declared a world heritage centre in the seventies and is well looked after by the government. The place is well policed and we felt very safe there.

We visited a number of churches to look at the art work, the highlight if which was the Jesuit, “gold” church. This is an incredibly ornate building with every square inch decorate in gold leaf. A place clearly designed to induce awe in visitors, and to demonstrate the extreme wealth of the Jesuits. Indeed, the Jesuits became so powerful that the King of Spain banished them from South America and they all had to leave. There’s a moral to that story, “If you’ve got it, flaunt it” – or maybe not.

We discovered that we had arrived in Quito during an election campaign. There is a run off between a very wealthy businessman and an ex professor to be the next president. One very right wing and the other very left wing – guess which is which.

Our guide is a little worried in case the businessman wins, and not just because he’s a fascist, but that people are not sure how he’s going to take it if he loses. So we could end up in the middle of a revolution. Well, I suppose that’s par for the course for a trip to South America.

During the election, Ecuadorian law forbids the sale and consumption of alcohol two days prior, and during the election day itself. Voting is compulsory so presumably the law is designed to ensure that the populace is not too pissed to take part. One of the pleasures of traveling is to experience new things, so we duly walked upto the hotel bar on the first day of prohibition and ordered a fruit juice.

We’ve also been trying the local food, although we have yet to come across the infamous roasted guinea pig. Our guide recommended an authentic Ecuador restaurant a short walk from our hotel which had the advantage of an English menu. Unfortunately, the translation was not always accurate, as we both went for the Beef and bean soup to start which turned out to be tripe. Actually, I thought it was quite good.


We set off the next day through the avenue of Volcanoes. 13 volcanoes of which 3 are still active. We were heading to the highest active volcano in the world, Cotopaxi, at 4500 Metres. And It’s overdue for an eruption – Is this really a good idea? Mags asked the guide how much notice there would be before an eruption, seeking some reassurance. Our guide, Mery, explained about the seismic centres that are stationed at strategic points, but didn’t actually answer Mags’ question.

Cotopaxi national park is truly beautiful, wild, scenic, and deserted. There had been a recent snow fall, which is unusual apparently, and the volcanoes peaks were covered. We were lucky that the weather was reasonably good to give us a glimpse of the volcano as it is shrouded by clouds most of the time.

There are very few animals that are prepared to tuff it out in this harsh habitat and altitude but we managed to spot Llamas, wild horses and, perhaps more surprisingly, feral cattle.

We continued upwards in our four wheel drive and stopped for lunch at a lonely restaurant anchored to a hillside with spectacular views of Cotopaxi.

After a few minutes we were joined by a group of climbers who had just completed the ascent, and descent of the volcano. This has to undertaken at night to avoid the fierce sun. 5 hours up, and 3 back down, starting at midnight. I think they deserved their lunch.

On the way back, we stopped at a Hacienda. These are the old colonial houses that were built under the feudal land system. The favored Spanish noble would be granted land for farming, and they built beautiful large houses to live in.

Many still exist and some of them are open to tourists. They clearly take a lot of maintenance and the tourist dollar must be welcome. The one we saw was in need of some major work, with damp running throughout the buildings. It is till the centre of a working farm rearing cattle and thoroughbred horses. It was filled with antique furniture, tapestries, and paintings with large rooms decorated with colourful tiles. It certainly gave us some sense of what life must have been like in 16th, 17th and 18th centuries.

New York

We arrived in New York and headed straight for a show called Her Song at Birdland, a collection of music written by women from Billy Holiday to Carole King, sung by 4 talented, enthusiastic young women accompanied by a three piece band. Great way to start our trip. We had a table right in front of the stage, and the seafood gumbo was good too.

We spent the Sunday with Mags’ Aunt, Bridgette and her husband Andrew at their home in Yorktown Heights, New York state. We caught the train from Grand Central Station, which has been completely restored and looks magnificent, to Croton Harmon where they picked us up. The line runs up and alongside the Hudson for most of the way, which is surprisingly largely undeveloped, so it was a picturesque way to travel. Bridgette cooked up a storm and we had a traditional Sunday lunch and generally caught up with family news.

We were staying in Greenwich Village for the first time – very trendy and happening. A bit like Upper Street in Islington times ten. Every place is a restaurant or bar, with many having one establishment downstairs and another upstairs. All have late licences and most have live music every night. We survived on a mixture of live blues and bourbon, which was great fun at the time but don’t ask me to remember what happened.

Yet more Chicago

Did I mention that we were staying next door to a brewery in Chicago? Not sure how that happened but Mags chose the apartment. It’s actually a bar/restaurant called Rock Bottom. They brew six types of beer there. Definitely worth a visit - on State and Grand.

In a lame attempt to burn off some of the calories we’ve been consuming we decided to walk upto Lincoln Park. The weather was cold but we came prepared with our Andes mountaineering gear so we got dressed - 4 layers, NASA engineered wind proof rain coat, boots, rope and tackle – and headed off. We just happened to choose the windiest day of our stay which had the effect of reducing the temperature another 10 degrees with the wind chill factor. Our clothes kept us relatively warm but we had to pick axe our way up the street, leaning horizontally into the wind. Still, we made it in the end and, surprise, surprise Cilla, we had the park all to ourselves.

We had a quick look at the zoo, but with blue lips, numb ears and purple noses we looked more like exhibits rather than visitors. The tiger wasn’t looking too impressed with the weather either and he convinced us to abandon our walk and we headed off to a nearby hostelry for a reviving drink.

We spent the rest of the afternoon in a nice, warm cinema watching the next film that was on. Luckily, it happened to be a really good choice as we saw Running with Scissors. A quirky drama starring Annette Benning, Brian Cox, and Alec Baldwin.

On our last night we met up with Rob again together with Paula, Richard, and Michael. We started in Yak-zies on Clark, famous for its hot chicken wings which we washed down with a few jars of ale. Rob, Mags and I then kicked on to a blues club to catch some live music. We were asked for our ID on the way in to prove that we were 21 or over which amused us no end. Mags and I weren’t carrying any ID but we managed to convince the door man nevertheless, and he let us in. The band was brilliant and had Mags dancing in the aisles. They performed a few blues numbers but it was mostly soul. Things are a bit of a blur after that. A few hours and many Jack Daniels later we managed to find our way back to the apartment. We left Rob who was threatening to kick on to an ‘authentic’ blues bar. We haven’t heard from him since.

It’s been 5 years since we were last in the States and, as you would expect, there have been a few changes, particularly in labour saving devices. In the toilets, or restrooms as they are called here (just full of people taking it easy), all the urinals and taps are automatic. Not so flash, I hear you say, we’ve got those. But they also have automatic paper towel dispensers. Instead of pulling the paper or a handle, you just wave your hands in front of it and a new, clean towel is presented to you. Unfortunately, it can take a fair bit of manic waving to get it to work so, on balance, I’d say that you use more energy than you save – great novelty value though.

The Americans have also invented a new device to avoid walking anywhere. I don’t know what it is called but it looks like a pogo stick with a platform at the bottom that you stand on. It has an electric motor that moves the user around at walking pace – brilliant. The security people in the Millennium Park use them, floating around like extras from a star wars film. You’d think that one of the few plus points to that job would be the exercise, but no. They’re also used for ‘walking tours’ but with no walking involved. Perhaps in a few thousand years, if Darwin is right, Americans will lose there legs, having evolved to a point where they are not used anymore.

Oh, and one more ‘only in America’ story – TV adverts have now completely taken over their schedules, American TV is now more accurately described as adverts with occasional shows in breaks between adverts. Even BBC America has adverts - presumably, not to confuse the viewers too much. We were watching the TV the other day and they managed to squeeze two sets of commercials in before the opening titles had finished. You’d have to take two days off to watch ‘Gone with the wind’ on TV.

Now let’s not get too smug. America is generally a few years ahead of the rest if us, so all this will be coming our way before long.

We really enjoyed Chicago. It has a wonderful vibe, the people are really friendly, and the taxi drivers speak English. Onto New York next so we're expecting as few changes.

One last leaving message for the Chicago fire department - STOP MAKING SO MUCH **@#$£* NOISE!

Even more Chicago

Mags in the Millennium park.

On Tuesday we decided to take a little exercise and walk to the Planetarium, through Millennium Park, and along the lake the shore to the museum complex where there is the Field Museum, currently showing an exhibition of ancient Egyptian artefacts, the aquarium, and the planetarium.

We decided to try out the planetarium where we saw a show called time space which is an animated journey through space from big bang to a possible future in the year 3000. The screen covers the ceiling from the floor upwards giving a 360 view, and gives the effect of moving through space. The seats recline to near horizontal to provide a better view, and are all too comfortable. There’s a temptation to lean back, close your eyes, and catch 40 winks. We managed to resist, just, but one old chap to our left succumbed and was spark out after a few minutes and showed no sign of waking up even after the show finished. He’s probably still there.

In the evening we met up with Steve, Sandra, Rob and Mary Beth for dinner in a small restaurant called the Twin Anchors which specialises in ribs. We all had the ribs. Our only decision was which accompaniments to have. I copied Steve with the zesty sauce and zesty baked beans, nodding sagely as if I knew what zesty means. The meat was beautifully tender and just fell off the ribs. The beer flowed and we had a great time.

Yesterday, we headed off to “Second City”, a famous comedy club whose former players include Alan Alda, John Belushi, and Bill Murray. Our taxi journey over was a strange one. The driver was listening to a, only in America, right wing, religious radio show where a principal was describing why he had banned dancing at his school as it was too sexually suggestive. The driver asked us what the morality of teenagers was like in the UK (as if we’d know). We told him that it was desperate, evil place and under no circumstances should he visit. Anyway, at the theatre we saw a show called “War” which was brilliant – taking the piss out of American life generally, and of course the Iraq war, with special distain for Bush and Rumsfeld. Great stuff. We had a table to the front and left of the stage where our waitress kept bringing us drinks throughout the performance. Just fantastic. I’m not sure how we’re going to cope when we leave Chicago and have to start doing things for ourselves again.

More Chicago

This is the view along Michigan Avenue with the Chicago Institute of Art in the hidden behind the trees to the right. I spent a couple of hours there yesterday wandering around their impressionist collection. Lots of Renoir, Monet, Van Gogh, Degas, Seurat etc. Very enjoyable. You’re allowed to take pictures of the exhibits as long as you don’t use a flash. A good way to save a few million. Just print them out and stick them on your walls.

On arrival, we were a little apprehensive about the weather, as we both hadn’t been here this late in the year. We were bathed in sunshine on our first couple of days with 17 degrees, wearing short sleeve shirts, applying the sun cream, and wondering what all the fuss is about. Day 3 was slightly different though. The temperature dropped 15 degrees, a storm arrived, and we had driving rain, and wind that was knocking people down on the pavement (sidewalk).

We’d arranged to see a play at the Shakespeare theatre with Rob in the evening and, although it was only a 20 minute stroll away, walking was out of the question. We stood outside our apartment trying forlornly to wave a cab down while Mags was doing the ramba with her umbrella. Some things are the same all over the world – all the cabs disappear once it starts raining. Anyway, we finally found one and made it to our destination safely. On arrival wile we were mobbed by a crowd of people jockeying for our taxi. One lady actually jumped in while we were still inside paying.

Rob arrived 20 minutes later soaked through as he did walk having failed to find a cab – but he’s from Yorkshire so he’s used to it.

They play we saw was Two noble kinsmen, a play which Shakespeare collaborated on with another playwright, John Fletcher, towards the end of Shakespeare’s life. None of us had seen it before so we had no idea how it would end. Anyway, the acing was terrific and we had a great night.

I received my Australian visa by email yesterday after completing the all new, on-line, comedy application form. There’s a laundry list of questions to answer such as.

Are you a terrorist?

Are you a danger to Australia?

Can you play cricket?

Do you know what it is yet?

And my personal favourite – Is there any other reason why you shouldn’t be admitted to Australia?

All this extra security obviously costs a bit as a visa now sets you back seventy quid. Ouch! 

Normandy and Chicago

Here we are in Chicago, which I discovered yesterday originally meant “Onion Swamp” – nice.

Our holiday, or is that sabbatical, really started last weekend when we spent the weekend in Normandy with our friends Peter and Mary who have a quarter share of an old, ram shackled house in the pretty small town of Montreuil, about an hours drive from Calais. Pronounced like Montroy but with a dodgy French accent. Well, it is by me anyway.

We traveled with our friends Peter and Kate Chadwick. No relation, or none that we know of anyway. They kindly drove us there via the chunnel. It was our first time in a car through the tunnel – isn’t it strange driving onto a train?

The town is completely walled, sitting perched high on a hillside, originally built in the 9th and 10th centuries to keep the English out. But hah, we’re taking it over now. Shortly after arriving we walked around the walls. There is a good, solid path to navigate, but, as the French don’t really do safety, there are no railings. So if you wander too close to the edge, and fall off, its curtains as there is a 100ft sheer drop to the bottom. This is a little disconcerting as the locals appear to be oblivious to this danger with children running around unchecked. Still, we managed to make it round without losing anyone.

On Saturday evening we went to a beautiful Michelin starred restaurant just outside the town. We had a terrific time being generally loud and English. The food was terrific and the service surly – hard to beat. The sommelier nearly cried when we didn’t go with one of his recommendations and our waiter nearly had a fit when we insisted on having the cheese course after the dessert. I think we must have been getting a tad rowdy as the evening progressed because we were ushered into a private ‘coffee’ room at the earliest opportunity. A few Armagnacs later and we returned to Chateau Kirby to continue our celebrations with a few parlour games around the kitchen table.

The highlight of the weekend came on Sunday which started tentatively, but inevitably early, once Peter and Mary’s two children, Daniel and Ruth had woken up. We were blessed all weekend with beautiful sunny weather and decided to head off to the coast, a short drive away. We had a restorative lunch in a very busy, friendly and informal café right on the beach. The establishment specialised in Moules frites which I think we nearly all went for. I had Moules au curry. Yes, I was that hung over.

A few beers later, and we all felt a bit more lively and decided to have a quick game of beach cricket. It was Chadwicks versus the rest with yours truly nominated captain and proudly leading out the troops onto the ‘sand’ of play. We managed to bowl out the Kirby clan for a paltry 21, and then knocked off the runs in style to emerge victorious. Mags reluctantly went into bat at number 3, and was doing really well with her impression of Inzimam ul haq. (She had decided that she wouldn’t run – something about shoes and sand. That’s girls for you.) Anyway, she probably would have had about 10 runs or so (if she’d been running) when she was gloriously dismissed for nought, hit wicket. Now this wasn’t just stepping slightly too far back in the crease and dislodging the bails, but a full blooded square cut that demolished all three stumps, with one ending up at extra cover. Mags just stared at the ground momentarily and then burst into uncontrollable giggles followed by the rest of us - with the French looking on, bemused.

Anyway, back to Chicago. After the indulgence of France, it feels good to be in a country where the majority of residents make you feel slim. We’re also trying to come to terms with the fast, efficient, and friendly service that we’ve received so far – very suspect.

Like the typical tourists we are, we headed straight for Navy pier on our first day and embarked on the first cruise boat departing for the architecture tour.

This is a very gentle cruise up the Chicago river taking in the numerous skyscrapers accompanied by a very knowledgeable and fast on board commentary. Indeed, our host spoke so quickly that us non locals had a hard job keeping up. The ever present Japanese tourists had no chance but at least they appeared to find it amusing in places.

Anyway, he did a great job informing us of the important architects, their influences, styles and the types of buildings together with the history of how Chicago has developed over the years. Really good stuff and well worth it.

I think today we’re meant to be shopping but Mags is determined to overcome any lingering jet lag and so far is showing no signs of surfacing. (Its 9a.m. local time)

Au revoir.

South Africa

Cape Town

We dreamed up this holiday while watching TV. The Australian cricket team were hammering the South Africans in Oz at the time. There would be a return series in South Africa so we thought that it would be cool to catch the Cape Town match. We made sure that we had tickets for the game first and then worked the holiday around the match. Eventually, we decided to go for three weeks and see a bit of the country.

We were met at Cape Town airport by a very jolly taxi driver who managed to give us a complete potted history of the place during the journey to our hotel. It was rush hour so there was queuing on the freeway. This doesn’t apply to the local public transport, however, which consists of mini vans stuffed to bursting point with workers on their way into town. The vehicles are privately owned and the drivers get paid by how many trips they can manage. This leads to some ingenious and enterprising attempts to circumnavigate the traffic. The hard shoulder is fair game and is used routinely, but when this is blocked the grass verge will do. (Best not to get in the way of these chaps). We sat patiently in the back as our driver went through his well practised tourist speech. We passed the major hospital on the way in and he explained that this is the place where the first heart transplant was performed by Christiaan Neethling Barnard in 1967. This is something that the locals are extraordinarily proud of. You can’t get into a taxi in Cape Town without being told of this feat even if you’re nowhere near the hospital. The route from the airport to the centre of town takes you past a huge shanty town, known as the Cape Flats. It really is quite shocking to see for yourself the conditions in which people are living. The pictures in the guide books and images previously seen on TV had not prepared us for the scale of deprivation. The average dwelling looks about the size of garden shed or typical London flat, although not as solid, having been assembled from presumably whatever was available. This is generally off cuts of wood, boxes and corrugated iron. Our driver explained that conditions had dramatically improved with the recent introduction of sewerage and electricity, so I couldn’t imagine how bad it must of been. The government has started building some public housing to re-house people, but there’s obviously a lot to do.

Our hotel was on the ‘Waterfront’ in the centre of town. A beautiful small luxury hotel that was reckoned to be one of the two best in Cape Town. There was no holding back on this trip, 5 star all the way. Well, it seemed a bit scrooge like not to with the Rand trading at 500 to the Albanian Groat – never mind the Pound. The Victoria and Alfred Waterfront is a working harbour that has been developed as a tourist centre in recent years with the introduction of lots of trendy bars, restaurants and shops. We set off to explore that evening and headed towards what looked like a likely venue to sample the local brew. At the entrance we were scanned by some security guards using one of those magic wands that I’d only previously seen at airports. One of the guys asked “Any firearms?” I wasn’t sure if he meant ‘Do I have any?’ or ‘Would I like some?’ Undeterred, although now extremely wary, we headed in. It was actually a very pleasant place with a large number of tables outside overlooking the water. We whiled away a few hours there relaxing into our holiday.

We spotted a few British celebrities in Cape Town, obviously avoiding the Northern winter. Robert Lindsay, the actor, and his family were staying at the same hotel as us. I had this incredible urge to shout “Mother” every time I saw him, but just managed to resist. (For those of you who have never seen GBH you’re doubtless a bit confused. He’s probably more famous as Woolfie Smith in Citizen Smith, and most recently plays the Dad in ‘My Family’ alongside Zoe Wannamaker.) We were strolling along the waterfront one afternoon when we passed Gary Mabbut, who was pointing out the seals to his daughter. Mags turned to me and said “I’m sure I know that guy.”

“That’s because it’s Gary Mabbut”

“Oh! Just as well I didn’t say anything. I was about to stop and chat to him”

I can imagine what he might have thought if she had – “I know I played with some old women in the Spurs defence, but I don’t remember you”.

The seals are very popular with the tourists but not quite as well appreciated by the locals and tradesmen. They stink for a start and are fond of clogging up the jetties while they bask in the sun, making it difficult for the cruise boats to operate. There’s a regular battle going on between the seals and the boat owners equipped with brooms as weapons. The seals manage to hold their own though.

On our first full day, we took delivery of our hire car and made straight for the wine district. (There just always seem to be vineyards near where we end up on holiday). The car arrived a little later than planned so we had to make straight for our lunch venue that Mags had spotted in the brochures the previous evening. This was a beautiful old winery called Boschendal in Stellenbosch where they serve a eat as much as possible buffet lunch, accompanied by their excellent wines. Mags tucked into the wine list while I had to make do with water as, conned as usual, I was the driver. There is an old manor house on the estate built in 1812. You have to say that it’s pretty small compared with the stately homes back in Blighty, with only four rooms and a hallway. But it’s an historic site having once been owned by that famous South African Liberal Cecil John Rhodes. We had a wander around the estate in the warm sunshine before heading off to explore the region. We had perfect, blue skies for our drive which made the scenery particularly striking, especially the surrounding mountains.  

Driving around is a real pleasure as there is very little traffic and the roads are very good. We found this to be the case all through our trip in S.A. The only real problem was to avoid the pedestrians as there are no pavements. This wouldn’t be an issue except for the custom of moving over to the hard shoulder (where the pedestrians are) to let cars past. Having overtaken you the car now in front will flash his / her hazard lights to thank you – all very civilised if you ignore the pedestrians jumping into the bushes to safety. The traffic lights take a little getting used to. There’s no red/amber signal between stop and go. You can be waiting patiently at a red light, suddenly glance up and it’s green - a kind of Twilight Zone feeling.

Our second stop was the sleepy village of Franschhoek which was originally settled by French Huguenot families. (These Huguenots got around a bit). The village has a spectacular setting encircled by the Franschhoek and Groot Drakenstein mountains. We strolled idly around gazing at all the pretty, thatched roofed cottages before heading back to base. There’s a lot more to do and see in the wine district (which really means eat and drink) but we didn’t have the time on this trip. Next time, I think we’ll get a chauffeur or stay overnight.

Of course we visited the Cape of Good Hope and Cape Point, the southern most point of the Cape Peninsula. These places like Lands End or John O’Groats seem to have some magnetic attraction for tourists so we couldn’t help ourselves. The car just went there by itself. The main attraction is really the drive around the Cape peninsula which is quite spectacular with the Atlantic, the Pacific or sometimes both in view all the time; waves crashing into the shoreline. There are lots of small towns along the route with wonderful beaches, and plenty of stopping points to take photos of the magnificent views.

The area around Cape Point is a nature reserve with plenty of wildlife and flora & fauna to see. The most noticeable creatures are the baboons that approach the cars with the hope of being fed. Tourists are advised not to give them food as they can be dangerous. We didn’t find them particularly attractive or interesting although everyone else seemed to be fascinated.

Another must is the trip to the top of Table Mountain. Apparently, it can be walked but it’s a hell of a way so we took the cable car like everyone else. It’s quite a ride as the car goes up practically vertically. I was pleased to note the small plaque that declared it was built in Switzerland – very reassuring. The car is round in shape with floor to ceiling windows providing for a great view for everyone on board. Just when we were feeling fine, clinging onto the hand supports, the operator flicked a switch and we’re suddenly moving around. This is because it’s a rotating cable car. The idea, I’m sure, must be to give everyone a view from all vantage points. The floor rotates around a central podium whilst the walls stay fixed. This means that the inhabitants are slowly moved clockwise around the cabin. Nice idea, but I think we’d have preferred to have remained stationary. The view is sensational as you get further up the mountain, with the city spread out beneath your feet. Unfortunately, at the top, fog had settled in and visibility was near zero so we didn’t quite get to see the best views. There’s the customary café and tourist shop of course, and some well marked paths to walk along. We tottered about for a while but fog is fog from any angle so we soon headed back down. Needless to say, that was the only day when the mountain was covered in cloud but we didn’t have time to go back up.

Camps Bay is an attractive little seaside district of Cape Town where most of the beautiful people seem to hang out with their Porsches. There’s a fantastic white beach separating a long line of restaurants from the Atlantic Ocean. We had lunch in one of these establishments picked at random. It was a lovely way to spend an afternoon munching on a seafood platter watching the world go by. Jason Gillespie walked past at one point which wasn’t that much of a surprise as he was playing in the Test Match, but as it was due to start the next day, we thought that he might have been practising. One of the waiters made a concerted effort to get him to eat in the restaurant but with no luck. After lunch we went to dip our toes in the water, and that’s as far as we got as the sea was absolutely freezing. The Cape is unique in that you can swim in the Atlantic, hop into you car, drive a few minutes, and then swim in the Pacific. But unless you have a great desire to do this (‘cos you can) then stick to the Pacific side – it’s a lot warmer. The wind generally picks up in Camps bay in the afternoon and the waves start to grow so the bathers disappear and the surfers come out to play.

Before long we were off to Newlands to watch the test match between South Africa and Australia. The ground is situated in a fairly rich suburb with a fantastic view of Table Mountain. It must be the prettiest ground I’ve been to. We had seats in the Presidents Pavilion round about fine leg. We were meant to get afternoon shade, but this didn’t materialise till about 4 O’clock. We lasted until about 2, slowly melting into our seats before we sought refuge. We moved back up the stand till we found an area under shade. We asked some of the people there if we could sit with them and they graciously consented. Mags of course immediately started chatting to everyone and before long we were best of friends, and we spent the rest of the test match with them. We referred to that little area as codgers corner as everyone was over sixty. It turned out that a group of them had bought debentures for the seats when the stand was built. The reason there were now so many spaces was that half of them had by now retired to that great pavilion in the sky.  There were some interesting characters including an ex-mayor of Cape Town who naturally knew everyone. And another chap who I think must have been an ex cricketer because he seemed to know all the cricket greats. Graham Pollock came over to speak with him. He now lives in London – Graham Gooch helped him get his residency.

Australia won the match pretty convincingly with the highlight being Adam Gilchrist’s quick fire hundred. SA did put up a fight in the second innings, but in the end, the new look, slim Shane Warne bowled practically non stop for a whole day to win the game.

We did have to listen to a fair bit of local politics in codger’s corner which can be summed up from a white perspective as “the blacks are ruining everything”. Still, everyone was very friendly and we had a great time. The secondary entertainment was provided by the ice cream and drinks sellers. These guys just wander around amongst the seats shouting out their particular catch phrase to try and make a sale. One chap would exclaim “What a day!” everywhere he went. This never changed irrespective of the weather or the score for that matter. Another guy just said “Ice Cream” very quickly five times, as if he thought that his sales were directly proportional to the number of times he could say the magic word.  Added to the other shouts of “Water”, “Coke, Coke, Coke”, and “Biltong”, this was the constant soundtrack to the match. The atmosphere at cricket grounds around the world is always different. At Lords the predominant sound is “Shush!”, in the West Indies it is booming reggae music emanating from colossal speakers -interrupted by officials screaming of “Mr DJ!, Mr DJ” over the tanoy in an attempt to get the music to stop while play is in progress. In Australia I can’t recall any one dominant theme, but there’s plenty of wise cracks and assorted sayings such as “Strewth it’s hot!”, “Burp!” and “Bowlin’ Warney”

Other refreshments were available behind the stands. Although on the first day, a Friday, we discovered that most of the outlets were closed during the lunch break. This was because they are mostly owned and run by Muslims who had gone off to pray. Pure genius. Thankfully, there was always Castle corner which never seemed to close.

After the cricket we left Cape Town and headed to the Drakensburg Mountains via Johannesburg. We had been advised that it was best to avoid Jo’burg as violent crime is rife, so we just changed planes there and boarded a tiny propeller jobby that took us to the town of Nelspruit in Mpumalanga in the North Eastern part of the country. The airport at Nelspruit is extremely small, but the service is exceptional. The local baggage handler carried our bags all the way to our hire car, lobbed them into the boot, and then decided to move the car to a more convenient position for us. Unfortunately for him, he picked drive instead of reverse, and managed to bump into a Mercedes reversing out of a nearby parking bay. Our car was unscathed, but the door of the Merc was caved in – poor sod. We left them behind arguing over the damage.

Our destination was a hotel called The Blue Mountain Lodge. We had a 30 minute drive or so to get there although this ended up being a tad longer after we started out in the wrong direction. The hotel is reached via a mile or so of dirt road that our Japanese saloon car really wasn’t designed for. Nevertheless, we got there eventually. We were met at the hotel entrance and told that we were staying in the manor house and had to get back in the car to drive back up the track to get there. We were shown into this house that had its own driveway, gardens, aviary (yes, that’s birds in a large outdoor cage), and swimming pool. Inside there was a huge reception room with a vaulted ceiling, a study, kitchen, two enormous bedrooms both with ensuite bathrooms. The swimming pool overlooked a small lake that was about 200 metres away at the foot of the garden. Our Jaws dropped. Mags enquired “Who else is staying here?”. “Just you madam”. We really had no idea that we’d booked something like this so it was quite a surprise.

Since the place was so wonderful we decided to spend the next day staying put just lording it around our “country estate”. I’ve a great photo of Mags laying on one of the sun lounges next to the swimming pool reading a book, looking every bit as if she was born to this kind of life. Obviously this is a bit of a worry for me.

Dinner is held each evening at the main building of the hotel a short drive away back down the private dirt road. It’s an all inclusive, 5 course, heart attack inducing feast. Someone comes to the house with a selection of appetisers and the menu just before sunset. The drive back is a little adventure after a few chardonnays.

It was extremely difficult to tear ourselves away from this tranquil haven, but we had come to see the countryside, so we headed off in the car to explore. The area is famed for its waterfalls, and it certainly has a few.

Probably the most spectacular place we visited was Bourke’s potholes. This is at the confluence of two rivers that have cut a severe groove through the landscape. Where they meet there’s a crashing of water as each tries to assert itself before they settle into one river. This aquatic violence has eroded the landscape over time, moulding it into some unusual shapes looking like, yes you guessed it, potholes.

The principal industries apart from tourism are banana and avocado farming, and logging. It was interesting to see avocados growing as we had no idea where they came from. In fairness, I don’t think a lot of people spend a great deal of time thinking about it. They grow on small bushes by the way. (I know that you’re riveted).  

Strangely enough, we found that bananas and avocados were extremely cheap. Well, free really. We splashed out on some tomatoes for lunch one day. There are lots of locals selling a few bags of fruit in the towns and along the roadside. Mags insisted that we buy from one of these vendors to make sure that we put something back into the local economy. We approached one of the said fruit sellers and enquired about the price of a bag of toms. You could see her sizing us up and wondering how much she could get away with charging. “2 rand” was the answer. Mags surprised me by responding with “1 rand”. Negotiations thereby started and were about to go into arbitration when I interrupted with an offer of “1 rand 50” which was accepted. Mags complained to me that she was sure that she could have got them cheaper. I reminded her that she wanted to give some money to the locals. She said “Fair enough, but I don’t like being ripped off”. Typical Aussie. 2 rand is about 12 pence by the way.

The other main industry is craft works (No, not dodgy German synthesizer music); carvings and stuff mostly of the wildlife found in the nearby Kruger national park. Practically every waterfall or beauty spot is accompanied by an array of craft sellers. After a while you realise that they are all peddling the same stuff so there must be some factory somewhere where the giraffes, elephants and so on are whittled out at an amazing rate (Probably made in China). Naturally, we bought a load of stuff which we didn’t need which resulted in us throwing away clothes and stuff we actually did need in order to squeeze the figures into our luggage to get them home.

Next stop was the Kruger, and Mala Mala game reserve in particular. This is one of the private game reserves inside the park that look after the tourists, making sure they don’t get up to too much mischief and keeping them alive. We were staying in what they termed the “Main Camp”, which was the swishiest one of the four camps that they ran. ‘Camp’ is a bit misleading as everyone has a thatched bungalow each with air-conditioning and his and hers ensuite bathrooms. Laundry is complimentary and all meals are inclusive. There is a swimming pool and a Gym. No tents in site.

We soon discovered that we were a bit out of place as everyone else staying there was loaded. Serious rich people who didn’t need to work anymore. In fact, I think a number of the guests hadn’t bothered ever working. The guest book read like a who’s who guide – Mick Jagger, Tom Watson, Bill Clinton, Lance Klusner, Elton John and so on. Nelson Mandella had also stayed there but, to be fair, he seems to have been everywhere in SA.

You get put into a group for the duration of your stay for the safari drives. Our little ensemble included a Canadian couple around about the same age as us, and an ancient Australian couple. I think the camp must try and put people together that they think will get on based on the information that they have on people. Clearly, this doesn’t always work.  It was my first time on safari but I immediately recognised the Canadians as safari bores. We had a running commentary on our first drive of

- “There are so many more elephants in Kenya” and

- “Black Rhino are much harder to find that the White, but we saw them in Namibia, It was amazing”.

That kind of thing. Still, they settled down after they were satisfied that they were established as the safari kings – or should that be safari tossers. Later, we actually started to get on with them after we got to know them a bit better. Perhaps we had a good influence on the group. Either that or we were turning into safari tossers as well.

The Australian couple really were old. They had just completed an extended cruise from Sydney and were finishing off with this Safari before heading back home to die. The guy had a dodgy leg and couldn’t walk far. He had brought with him a little motorised buggy that assembled from four parts, and he whizzed around the camp in this most of the time. He had made his money running a steel forging business in the 50s. No surprise then that he was a tough old bugger. He bullied his wife relentlessly who wasn’t allowed to have an opinion. Not that she would have remembered anyway, as dementure had well and truly set in, poor thing.

Each group was looked after by a ranger and a tracker. The tracker is always a black guy from the local tribe, and the ranger is always a white guy who drives, does the talking and generally makes sure that the guests are happy. Our ranger was a Zimbabwean called Leon whose main interest was the birdlife. He loved to point out all the different species of birds, telling us about their feeding and migratory habits. He could do the bird calls for most of them, and was able to con the birds into responding to him several times. Some people just don’t seem to fit their names, and Leon is one. I don’t know exactly why this is, but we all had trouble calling him Leon as it seemed so out of place. He’s certainly no French assassin, although he did carry a gun around. The tracker didn’t speak much English so we didn’t get to learn much about him except that he was called Elvis, and that he could spot a Chameleon at night from 50 paces.

So much for the people, it was the animals that we had come to see after all. And the ‘Big 5’ in particular. The 5 are the elephant, rhino, buffalo, lion and leopard; so called, not because of their size, but because they are reputedly the most dangerous to hunt on foot. Each day was organised around two safari drives; one in the morning before it gets too hot, and one in the late afternoon / evening - again to avoid the worst of the sun. This sounds all very sensible except that it meant having to get up at 5:30 a.m for the first drive. The vehicles are open topped land rovers with special tiered seating so that everyone gets a good view.

Our first sighting was of a Leopard that just came walking up to us. Leon pulled to the side of the road to let it past and it walked slowly by only a few feet away from the vehicle. This certainly woke us up. I for one was just a little apprehensive about being so close to a wild man-eater without any protection. Leon explained however that most of the animals can’t tell that there are people inside the truck – all they see is the land rover. They are totally used to the vehicles, and as they know that they can’t eat them and also that they are not a threat, they ignore them. In the animal kingdom it seems you are either food, a predator or just invisible. This means that you can get really close to the animals even if it is just a little scary despite the reassuring words from Leon.

Well, the whole experience was fantastic and much better than I had expected. I had thought that it would be a bit like Knowsley safari park (a zoo in England) but on a grander scale. In reality, it’s a thrill to see these animals in their natural habitat all trying to survive. There were many highlights including watching a rhino take a mud bath, witnessing a young elephant bull demolish a tree, being overtaken by a herd of buffalo in the dark, tracking a Leopard through the bush and watching it leap into a tree, lion cubs at play and just admiring the scenery. At sunset, Leon would stop for a while so that we would stretch our legs and take a leak, if necessary. He always chose an open area to make sure that we weren’t hopping out of the car next to a pride of Lions. Still, modesty dictated that you had to search for a bush to urinate. I think we all broke our personal bests for fastest pee.

For me the most memorable moment came when we tracked a group of four lioness stalking buffalo in the evening.  The lions were slowly but surely creeping up on the buffalo that seemed to be unaware of their presence. However, just when it looked as if the predators were about to pounce, a group of buffalo charged towards the lions dispersing them and scaring them off – brilliant stuff.

At Mala Mala, the guests were outnumbered by the staff by a ratio of six to one. This seemed to be typical of South Africa which has clearly embarked on a policy of full employment by means of using lots of people to do the smallest of jobs. This is particularly noticeable to tourists in the service industries where you are swamped by waiters in each restaurant. (This doesn’t necessarily improve the service.).  A good example is the use of labour at road works. Teams of black guys work on the roads to keep them in top condition (and the roads are all good) using mostly shovels with very little machinery. At each end of the road works a guy is ‘employed’ to stand there all day with a red flag to warn motorists that road works are in progress – a kind of human red triangle. You get so used to this over employment that it’s a surprise to find that when you get into a taxi, there’s only one person driving. Much of this must stem from the ridiculously cheap labour that is available from the black community who continue to make up the majority of the poorest people in the country. Driving around in some of the more remote parts there are always people on the roadside walking to work or home. They must walk miles each day.

The last leg of our trip took us to the Garden Route, the name given to the stretch of coastline form Grahamstown, near Port Elizabeth to Mossel Bay, near Cape Town. We stayed in Plettenburg Bay about half way along the Garden Route in a hotel located on a cliff top with majestic views of the coast and the long sandy beach below. We arrived at around lunchtime to be greeted by the sight of dolphins playing in the bay. We located the restaurant and sat down to a lovely meal of succulent white fish washed down with a bottle or two of Chardonnay. We were seated on the terrace near the swimming pool with a fantastic view so we just sat there relaxing and chatting away all afternoon. Before we knew it the sun was going down and we had to clear out to make way for the dinner guests. Now the sensible thing at this point would have been to go straight to bed. Needless to say we enquired as to the whereabouts of the nearest bar and commandeered a taxi to take us there. It was only about 400 yards but walking was by this stage out of the question. After a few tequilas and beers, we made complete fools of ourselves dancing around the bar. Tequila for me is like fast food. Seems like a good idea at the time but you always regret it afterwards.

The whole Garden Route is served by the N2 which bisects the land that lies between the coast and the mountains so getting around is very easy. We zoomed up and down this for a few days stopping off at places of interest and just generally enjoying the countryside. At one point, we left the main road in search of adventure only to end up on a dirt track hopelessly lost. After a couple of hours of u-bends and dust we ended up back where we had started. However, we did discover an Ostrich farm and I got to pretend that I was Colin McRae for a while.

One of the notable places on the Garden Route that we visited was Knysna (No, I can’t pronounce it either). It’s a small town situated next to a large natural lagoon protected from the sea by two sandstone cliffs, the Knysna heads. There’s a waterfront complex of shops and restaurants and a steam train departs from there every day for George following a picturesque route. We didn’t have time for the train – it’s not the quickest form of transport - but did pick up a few bargains in the craft shops.  More luggage to carry home.