Disculpe

No wi-fi in guest-house, so will fill in posts later (am currently standing on street corner at 2am watching carnival drunkeness and piggy-backing wi-fi from cafe). Heading to border tomorrow and hopefully into Bolivia. Will endeavour to find signal somewhere, if only to find outcome if Arsenal v Man Utd. Come on you Gooners!

Afternoon rain

Tilcara carnival

By pure chance we arrived in Tilcara on Carnival weekend. Being only a small town, carnival here is quite simple: a small parade of horseback gauchos and children in traditional costumes, then three days of drinking and dancing. The boys got to join in the fun and ran around with the local children spraying everyone with foam - and Annie in particular. Sadly I didn't get any pics of her on the phone, but imagine a merangue wearing sunglasses and you get the idea.

Cactus country

Tilcara is a small town near the border with Bolivia (I say near, but it's still another 4 hours away - Argentina IS huge). It's ringed by cactus covered mountains and full of single story adobe houses built with bricks of mud and straw, and roofs of cactus wood covered in clay. This is real cowboy country folks. Yee ha!
We all instantly fell in love with the town and it's laid back vibe, staying a few days longer than planned to take in the carnival and some mountain walks, including the geologically famous 'mountain of seven colours' in nearby Purmamarca. 
Overlooking Tilcara is the hilltop site of an important pre-Spanish settlement, each building carefully reconstructed and open to explore, and a botanical garden consisting only of cacti, which was much more interesting than it sounds. And I got to try my first llama steak (not dissimilar to pork). 
Surprisingly our guidebook didn't say much about Tilcara, other than it was a pretty place to stopover - but it's been one of our favourite stops yet. Maybe the fact it wasn't over-run with other Gringo's added to the sense of 'discovery'.

Phew!

Just heard the news about the tourists stranded at Macchu Picchu after the floods in that area, and think we got off lightly!

La Difunta Correa

La Difunta Correa is a semi-mythical folk heroine who has been adopted by travellers as a patron saint, even though the Catholic Church hasn't recognised her. The story goes that she was following her husband who was fighting the Spanish for Argentinian independence, and died of thirst crossing the desert. Several days later her body was found by passing gauchos, her baby son still alive and suckling from her corpse's breast. Roadside shrines are built and honoured by truckers and other travellers, who leave bottles of water as offerings to quench her eternal thirst in return for a safe journey. Maybe we should've left some too...

Before and After

We hired a car to drive 3 hours into nearby Cafayete wine country, passing through a Martian landscape of melted wax like rock formations and through a steep redstone canyon valley. As we approached Cafayete town we could see rain clouds up high in the mountains beyond, and regretted not packing any coats. But the rain held off all afternoon, while we sampled wine sorbet ice-cream and toured the oldest bodega in the town.
As we set off back to Salta, several bottles of Torrentes richer (on board, not consumed) the heaven's opened. Rising higher in the canyon, the rain turned to a lashing thunderstorm, and waterfalls started appearing in the rocks around us. Our initial excitement turned to frustration when progress was halted by a torrential red river across the road, and huge mudslides which had collapsed around several cars ahead. We sat it out for a couple of hours, before turning back to Cafayete as a precaution - our bags were 160km away and we had no warm clothes.
By 10pm the road was pronounced clear by the Policia, so we decided to risk it, rather than stay over. After a slow and sometimes scary journey through still flooded roads, slipping over piles of compacted (but not exactly cleared) mud and avoiding fallen rocks, we finally made it back to Salta at 2am - car filthy, all tired - but glad of the adventure.

Mucho Gaucho

We're now in Salta, NW Argentina, in a part of the country that's known for being very traditional. You can see the Spanish colonial influence, but think more Mexico than Madrid. Lots of single story buildings in pastel colours, giant melons for sale on street corners, and a huge pink Cathedral overlooking the pretty tree lined plaza. It's the town where General Belgrano fought the Spanish for Argentinian independance, and after victory decreed that all the dead from both sides should be buried together as comrades in arms.
We had a day at a rural gaucho ranch, riding horses through lush green countryside, past free-roaming cows, horses and wild pigs. Clouds of butterflies would fly up as we passed through puddles and streams, and big grins all round when the horses were allowed to gallop. After the ride we sat for a traditional asado (Argentinian barbeque) outside by the corral, where various cuts of beef are succesively served in order of tenderness and taste. The beef here is amazing, not so great for Annie, but us boys aren't complaining. I ordered 'bife chorizo' the other night and got a huge two inch thick half-brick of the tastiest steak - and nothing else.
Steak, beer, afternoon naps - this is my kind of place!

Round 8

More questions...

How does an engine work?
How do chickens grow the shells of their eggs?
How does heating sand turn it into clear glass?
What does third world mean? And who are the first and second world countries?
What is in glue to make it sticky?
What are man boobs? 
- See how many you can answer, without resorting to Google.

Geek alert!

I've often cursed my decision to bring a 'proper' camera and lenses, as opposed to a wee compact I can just shove in my pocket. But every time I've cursed the inconvenience and weight, along comes a photo opportunity that I couldn't take without the control or low-light capabilities of the SLR. The jury's still out, but I'm leaning more towards the compact at the moment, if only to lose the shoulder bag I'm obliged to carry everywhere. Of course, when I get home and the aching back is a fading memory I may be glad of the images I wouldn't gave been able to take otherwise.
The iPhone on the other hand remains indispensible. So far it's been used to browse the internet: booking accomodation, checking emails, Facebook etc., updating this blog, online banking and saving us a small fortune with Skype calls. It's been a camera, compass, currency converter, alarm clock, weather station, diary, notebook, dictaphone and torch. We've been informed with mobile editions of the Guardian and Independent, entertained with music, video games and TV (we downloaded the Christmas Dr. Who's and are currently watching the new series of Being Human), and it's now a pocket dictionary and Spanish language course. In fact it's been everything except an ordinary telephone!
There's still time for me to lose or break the camera and/or phone, and I hope this post doesn't jinx me, but my, how technology has changed for backpackers.

Me & Ernie

After developing a fascination with 'Che' Guevara in Cuba a few years back, it was inevitable that we'd detour to nearby Alto Gracia, to the home of young Ernesto which is now a museum to his life and achievements. Particularly interesting were the photos of him disguised as a boring middle-aged businessman for his trips to the Congo and ultimately Bolivia, in contrast to the ubiquitous image of him as the handsome revolutionary in a beret that we all know.

Cordoba

Excitement - that was the word I was looking for. Mendoza is nice, but a bit, well, bland. Wide tree lined avenues and pretty scuplted squares, but nothing much happening. Maybe we just stayed there a day or two too long.
We successfully shrugged off the slump with a day at the Parque de Agua, set high in the Andes, where we splashed in a series of open air pools and progressively hotter thermal baths, with a constant view of mountains, palm trees and cloudless blue skies. And we didn't even get sun-burned. Bonus!
After saying we needed to get out of cities, we've arrived in Cordoba, Argentina's second most populated - but we love it! It's got a buzz to it that Mendoza lacked. The streets are narrower, busy but not frenetic, and it's full of life. We stuffed ourselves silly at a Vegas style all-you-can-eat buffet (£5 a head and it even had an artificial waterfall and stream running past the tables) and waddled back through the central square where the Cathedral's facade is mirrored in white cobble stones (not sure why, but it's different). We almost skipped stopping here, but I'm glad we did. Suddenly South America is exciting again.

Funky taxi

Catching up on diaries in the bus station

Like butter wouldn't melt, eh?
Keeping a diary has felt like pulling teeth at times, particularly with Ned. When I tried to reason that he'll want to remember what he's done, and also that if he was at school he'd be doing a lot more, his reply was "But I'm not AT school, and anyway I can just look at your diary and photos to remember". Clever clogs. Grrrr.

Why's that bit shinier than the rest?

Still getting to grips with the size of the continent. Argentina is almost the size of India, and Chile, though thinner, is the same length, while Brazil alone is similar in size to the whole of Europe. Put them all together with the other smaller countries and the distances to travel are vast. It's peak season here so we've had to book our next two journeys ahead, both overnight bus trips (not consecutively thank goodness) - and that still will only get us as far as NW Argentina. At least we'll save on hostels. 
We've had a bit of a slump the past few days. Maybe it's fatigue, or a bit of disappointment that what we've seen of South America so far isn't 'different' enough, but I think we need to get away from the cities soon. Beautiful as they are they're so European and familiar that they're not quite as interesting as other places we've been to. We're still having fun, it just doesn't feel like we're exploring or learning as much. Maybe if we'd come here first from the UK we'd feel differently. 
Speaking of the UK, our biggest consolation here is the weather. Off tommorrow to a nearby thermal spa/open air pool centre for a splash around in the Andes. What are we moping for? Sunburn here we come!    

Helado grande

Argentina is not only famous for it's steak (£5 for a huge chunk of the juiciest beef I've had in a long time), but it's ice-cream too, supposedly the best in South America.
Every corner has an ice-cream parlour (and often several in-between too), with queues of locals clutching mountainous piles of the stuff. I opted for flavours I'd not heard of and got something chocolatey with chunks of orange marinaded in whisky. If only I could remember
what it was called..

Where are the Andes?

At the end of the Wristies! Boom, boom!
We crossed the Andes into Argentina, passing Cerro Aconcagua, the highest peak in the Western hemisphere via an ear-poppingly steep snaking road either side.
The weather here in Mendoza is instantly hotter, we're guessing as it's sheltered from the cooling coastal winds that Chile had.
Consequently, they really observe the siesta here - everything (and I mean everything) closes from 3-7pm. The locals only sit to eat after 9pm and the street performers will still be entertaining crowds of kids in the central plaza at 11. (I'm sat here in our hostel garden, and they've only just started cooking the Sunday barbeque at midnight!)
We're struggling to adapt to the routine, but we'll have to or else we'll be up when everyone's asleep, and going to bed when everyone's waking up (tonight's barbeque a case in point).

Lock 'em up

Following in the theme of renewed artistic freedom here, an old prison has been recycled as a graffitti art venue cum skateboard and BMX park. Kim put his new camera (thanks Santa) to good and enthusiastic use. I'd write more now about our day but they only sell beer in litre bottles here and my spelling could get interesting.

We don't want to gloat but...

...it's not snowing here in Chile.

Shrunken heads

One of my biggest regrets (and a downside of our laissez-faire attitude towards forward planning) is that I didn't realise we could have stopped off at Rapa Nui/Easter Island, halfway between NZ and Chile. Those of you who know what a tacky Tiki nut I am will realise the severity of this oversight. Doh!
Luckily for me there is an archeological museum in Vina Del Mar, a nearby beach town, dedicated to Rapa Nui and other Chilean indiginous cultures. I stopped kicking myself for a minute to have my picture taken in front of a gen-u-ine Maui (tiki head megalith) imported from Rapa Nui, and the boys were intrigued and repulsed in equal measure by the shrunken heads exhibit, which included step-by-step instructions on how it was done.
Already now planning a Polynesian trip for the near future...

View over Valparaiso

Outsider art

Currently in Valparaiso, about 2 hours outside of Santiago. The main attraction here is the abundance of murals and other outsider-art that cover the walls along cobbled streets that switch-back up the steep hills overlooking the port and town. This wall (above) was the work of just one eldely man who lived opposite. He took a shine to Ned and invited us inside his house to see other things he'd made, like a lamp made from an old kettle and an assortment of tin weather vanes. Murals are so popular here the town invited several big name Chilean artists to daub walls, and called the area 'Museo a Cielo Abierto' or open air museum.

Tsunami escape route...

Don't know why, but he just makes me smile.

1st world

People told us that if we'd already travelled in Asia, that South America would be a breeze. I'm not sure what stereotypes we were arriving with, but we still can't get over how modern and easy it is here. Chile is definitely a first world country, with standards of living (and prices to match) on a par with the EU. Wide pedestrianised avenues lined with cafe's and ice-cream parlours, trendy shopping centres, efficient buses and classical architecture that wouldn't look out of place in Paris or Madrid all lull you into forgetting you're in another continent.
As always, we've wrestled with the dilema of where to go and what to leave out. Patagonia lies south of here, but reports from other travellers inform us that it can get very cold and wet there, and that if we've already seen mountains, fjords and glaciers in NZ that our time might be better spent elsewhere (how glib does that sound?). So tomorrow we're crossing the Andes into Argentina and will slowly saunter north towards the salt flats and desert there. We're told that Bolivia and Peru can be more basic but for now Chile is a very pleasant surprise.

Round Eight

By fluke chance we've arrived in Santiago slap bang in the middle of their annual street theatre festival. This is no poky mime artists in tights affair, but a huge international event. We caught a truly spectacular night-time show by German group Titanick, involving a dervish-like parade of ramshackle flying machines, a singing Dark Angel (with brass backing band) and LOTS of pyrotechnics. Unfortunately we'll miss the latest performance by the group that brought the Sultan's Elephant to London at the end of the month, but hey ho, we can't do everything.
Note: if you're ever coming to Santiago, January is THE month.

Childish humour

This drink is

Half way point

After a fantastic NZ send off, in the form of beers and a barby with my old friend Ronnie, his family, and other Scarborough ex-pats (thanks again Ronnie, Fiona and Zack for your Kiwi hospitality - more meat than we could ever hope to eat!), we travelled back in time - literally. Taking off at 4pm we flew for 10 hours, crossed the International Date line, and landed in Santiago, Chile at midday on the same day - 4 hours earlier than we'd set off. The boys seem to accept the phenomenon quite easily, but Annie's having trouble.
Santiago feels like a European city, very clean, organised and modern. You could easily imagine that you're in Spain or Italy. We're staying in a spacious colonial building, all wood panelling and parquet floors, with tall wooden shutters and a balcony looking onto the cobbled streets below.
Still all struggling with jet-lag, and undecided what route to take between here and Argentina, but glad to be here. After a month in a tent, this feels like luxury.

Ned's place

Give it some welly, son!

Happy New Year

Back in the North Island now, we decided to treat ourselves and find a motel for New Years Eve. By pure chance we ended up in Waihape, self-styled 'gumboot capital of the World', where they hold the World Welly-Throwing Championships. Our motel rooms are in a lovely Camber Sands style chalet, complete with early 70's decor, and owned by a Greek Elvis fan who brought complimentary beer, snacks and morning paper. I couldn't have been happier. We saw NYE in gorging on chocolate and another bottle of Ned, while watching back-to-back episodes of 'Flight of the Conchords'. Again weird to think it's 2010 here, while you're all just waking up to your last day of 2009.
The only thing open around here today was the Gravity Centre in a nearby canyon, so we went for some fresh air and to watch the adrenaline junkies, only to suddenly find myself signing up for an 80m bungee jump off the bridge. Terrifyingly brilliant is how I'd describe the experience - the worst bit being just before you jump, when you're teetering on the edge of a tiny platform, feet bound together, fighting the urge to grab hold of something with your empty hands, and you suddenly realise that this was a really silly idea. Once you jump there's nowt but falling - and then the exhillaration of knowing you did it, and survived. It's all very safe, but that knowledge doesn't help when you're stood on the edge looking down. Still, it's one way to clear the New Year cobwebs!