tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60983420041708489022024-03-21T21:24:25.762-07:00Southa-Mary-CaThe amazing adventures of Me as I gallavant around South America, exploring, doing volunteer work and having one heck of an adventure!!Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger51125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098342004170848902.post-53861012781467018562010-09-05T14:00:00.000-07:002010-09-05T14:00:36.081-07:00BOLIVIAN MUSINGSHow to describe the lessons, the experiences, the raw humanity that seeps and spills on every corner...no such thing as just living, it is all about surviving.<br />
2 months of walking, eyes ripped open, looking to see...loving the ugly and the beauty, the tangible, audible, sensory assaulting LIFE that is here.<br />
The overwhelming colour and noise, the vibrancy and life, homeless eating at my ankles, festering and pitiful, empty, soulless eyes, parading with trumpets, tradition, cymbals...clashing and banging.<br />
Never have I seen such poverty, suffering...base humanity. What does it take sit at the feet of pedestrians, shunned and spurned, offering a shoe polish? For a young teenager to board a bus of tourists and sing off pitch desperate to earn 1 boliviano (20 cents), amidst the groans, smothered laughs and blocked ears? A 5 year old racing to beat the light changes at intersections, wielding a filthy mop to wash windows of cars that rev and beep...threating to run him down...tiny, barely out of nappies. <br />
Part of me is hardened to it all, its impossible to give something to everyone, yet at the same time, how can I escape the niggling, gut wrenching grief that tugs at the very sight of these broken, soulless children?<br />
God is here? Where? In the eyes of those who are compassionate, round every corner, fighting through the smoke of witches offerings, kneeling at our feet with the beggars...its hard to keep faith in the eyes of such appalling despair.<br />
My love affair with Bolivia is not derived solely from the romantic setting, the jaw dropping scenery...but in the mad chaos that is human existence here...no sterility, chaos, smells that render me heaving and watery eyed, sights that tear and rip at my conscience, the need and pain that permeates most...Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098342004170848902.post-64712375164568830702010-07-20T10:54:00.000-07:002010-07-20T10:54:15.222-07:00Shell Shocked in Bolivia - The Death Road<b>THE DEATH ROAD </b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
One must ask themselves, when, with fingers cramped shut over brakes, and eyes on stalks with fear 'why am I doing this? And why did I PAY to do this?'<br />
<br />
The Death Road, a precarious dirt road more famed for the lives its claimed than for its magnificent setting and stunning scenery high in the mountains of Bolivia is a 64 km downhill track clinging precariously to the cliff side, descending a cool 3500 mtrs through the clouds into a stunning valley of lush forest and rivers. . <br />
<br />
When faced with the real possibility of death the brain goes into total overdrive, concentration overrides all other senses and adrenalin takes over. <br />
Having not ridden a bike in at least 13 years, I was nervous (to say the least), and having donned helmet, knee and elbow pads and goggles, I tottered slowly round the car park getting the hang of balancing, braking and changing gears.<br />
<br />
The first stretch is a smooth down hill tar sealed road, exhilerating and a nice easy way to get to grips with handling a bike again, neverthless it is a steep downhill with some hair pin corners that threatened to claim the knees of most of us!<br />
Upon reaching the second part, most of us had overcome our nerves and were feeling somewhat smugly confident...a feeling that was quickly overcome by fear and utter dread as we set off on the second part of the ride...the famous Death Road itself...the gravel, slippery, narrow, hairpin hell of a road.<br />
<br />
For three hours we skated and skidded and slipped our way down the gravel road, hands and fingers numb from clasping the brakes, and necks and shoulders rigid with concentration, however, nothing compares to the rush you feel as you navigate the road, all the while watching the jaw dropping mountainous scenery go by. <br />
From numbing cold at the top to a tropical forest at the bottom, the Death Road is perhaps the most spectacular road I have ever seen...and an experience that is quite possibly the most mentally challenging, fear overcoming and physically exhausting I have ever done!!Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098342004170848902.post-73560674780231653482010-07-07T11:59:00.000-07:002010-07-07T15:59:37.987-07:00Shell Shocked in Bolivia #1<b>SAN PEDRO PRISON</b><br />
<div><br />
Once again, all I knew, all I thought I knew, my perceptions of what should be, and the reality of what is have been shattered...San Pedro prison...has left me utterly shell shocked, numbed and stunned.<br />
Having read 'Marching Powder' 11 years ago, I was intrigued to see the life and institution that is San Pedro prison, curious from a sociological perspective, my internal lay psychologist itchy to get a grasp on what defies all that I know about the judicial and penal systems. Nothing could have prepared me for it...<br />
A mini city, 7 separate communities overseen by a community president (elected by the inmates once a year), complete with 500 children, families and businesses (to use the term loosely) all operating inside the prison walls, no government assistance, insulated from the outside world, yet curiously operating as a world in itself...murderers living next door to petty criminals, the only segragation being who has money.<br />
<br />
A thriving real estate industry reliant on prisoners moving up and into newer nicer cells, restaurants and shops...defying what I thought a prison 'should' be...yet the dark, sinister danger lurks in the corridors, the reason for gates being locked at 10 pm, prisoner justice the only operation to continue weeding out the 'dangerous' from the non.<br />
Children amidst it all, playing, innocent...unaware, and protected, yet heart breakingly influencable, potentially the next generation of inmates. Sitting in the prison plaza watching them play, drinking a coke and enjoying the sun whilst chatting to our guide, I forgot where I was...was this really a prison? Were these people truly capable of murder, abuse, armed robbery?<br />
<br />
Our guide and bodyguards are three hardened criminals yet all that I had anticipated, all I had thought I would feel in the presence of these people was missing...I am still struggling to reconcile it all. It was like visiting a favela, yet safer given our companions...however, the demonic, evil element was palbable and the terror set in when we were shown into the kitchen. The kitchen, a dark room locked and padlocked behind a huge wrought iron gate, is the residence of the rapists. Men too dangerous to have in the rest of the prison, who literally sleep next to the ovens on the concrete floor, never allowed out...yet we were allowed in. Despite our protection and the company of my male friends, I have never felt so vulnerable, so utterly aware of the evil intentions inhabiting these ghost like empty men.<br />
<br />
My heart is full of sadness for the children, yet the experience left me initially feeling pity toward those inside...compassion...because unlike visiting men locked in cells, obvious signs of a life misspent, this felt like visiting a slum, families trapped with nothing, the raw fight for survival...<br />
Yet compassion and pity is wasted is it not? These are people who chose their paths, who are incarcerated (despite the community like setting) to protect the community from them...people, who through making their own rules are now in a 'society' whereby they are in charge of all the rules. <br />
Initially I thought that this type of prison establishment was a positive, rehabilitative way of treating criminals, yet today, seeing their freedom, the way in which they are literally outside of 'societal laws' and free to ajudicate as they see fit...<br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098342004170848902.post-27424031881472935602010-07-01T07:53:00.000-07:002010-07-01T07:53:39.009-07:00At the feet of the InkasI climbed the ladder of the Gods<br />
Steps climbing toward heaven<br />
Treading the path of the creators<br />
Souls in stars overhead<br />
<br />
I knelt on the footstool of their legend<br />
I breathed in their greatness<br />
And basked in the sun <br />
Eclipsed by such majesty as none can describe<br />
<br />
I sat in the seat of my soul<br />
In serenity and solitude<br />
All encompassing wonderment<br />
And the spirits splendidly marched by <br />
Eternity will never erase<br />
Such ethereal legacy and imprint<br />
That which remains will forever overawe<br />
Overwhelm and overshadow that of todayUnknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098342004170848902.post-40387821172797231652010-06-28T05:32:00.000-07:002010-06-28T05:32:09.042-07:00The changing of a life...My life.<br />
In a breathtaking few moments I felt what can only be described as the epitome of personal achievement and fulfillment in my life thus far.<br />
Cusco...another breathtakingly beautiful city set high in the mountains, ozzing mystique and promise of Incan magic, and true to this promise, it delivers.<br />
After 4 months travelling, Cusco was the culmination of years of dreaming and planning and, still, has me rendered speechless and overcome with emotion remembering the past few days.<br />
How to describe the sensation of heaven reaching elation, humbling speechless amazement and accomplishment...it is nigh on impossible...<br />
Snatched sleep and a 3 am wake up was the prelude to the greatest day of my life.<br />
Clambering the hundreds of Incan steps, breathing in the crisp morning air shrouded in black with barely a twinkle of a star I was excited to the point of silence...the anticipation of reaching my ultimate goal just an hour away was numbing and had me silently contemplative and seething with excitement. <br />
Coursing with sweat and shaking with exhaustion we reached the Machu Picchu gates at 5 am with dawn on our heels and her silvery glow illuminating the mountains...a soaring silouhetted backdrop.<br />
Having been stamped for entry to Wayna Picchu we raced through the gates to Machu Picchu...and into the greatest day of my life.<br />
As the ruins came into view, like running full course into a wall, I was halted mid tracks, the most intense surge of emotion I have experienced...and still now, words fail me.<br />
To be in the midst of such beauty, the spiritual energy and history tangible...awestruck and humbled, uplifted and excited to the point of total joy...tears, no words...<br />
In the two days since, I have been contemplative, in the aftermath of such an experience comes introspection...how to go home to normalcy, the fear of regressing and stagnatin, the bird once discovering flight having wings lopped and being returned to its cage, versus the excitment of life ahead having experienced something so amazing and the new realisation of self and passion and ambition to achieve more...<br />
Travel can yield one of two responses: the first being nothing but a picture postcard glimpse of surroundings, the second being the inate changing of perspective, the immeasurable transformation of soul and the reassessment of life value and goals. For me, the second is true, I have been shaken to the bone, rocked to the core and flipped 180...from utter homesickness to a sense of total liberation, from nothingness existence to a fuelled sense of purpose and value...perhaps with personal achievement comes revelation, perhaps for the first time I truly did dive head first into the deep end to emerge a champion swimmer...all I know is that there is something reverberating so deep, a passion and excitement so consuming that I am itching to keep exploring and learning...for fear, that perhaps, after all this, like silver to tarnish, this will fade to memory.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098342004170848902.post-76126940520824612402010-06-26T19:29:00.000-07:002010-06-26T19:29:36.552-07:00StrippedAnd I strip<br />
<br />
<br />
A thin crease from dream to soul<br />
<br />
Unzips me<br />
<br />
And in naked realization I breathe<br />
<br />
I am here<br />
<br />
Not just toe in testing<br />
<br />
Illuminated full<br />
<br />
And in purpose now I dance<br />
<br />
Scared to death<br />
<br />
But coursing with excitement<br />
<br />
Over my shoulder<br />
<br />
A backward glimpse at the yardstick<br />
<br />
Hell Yes<br />
<br />
I cleared it flying<br />
<br />
AND HERE I AM<br />
<br />
In the moment of my destinyUnknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098342004170848902.post-73484565696530971392010-06-19T06:03:00.000-07:002010-06-19T06:03:32.821-07:00From Lima to ArequipaWe sludged slowly into Lima, tired and still smarting from farewelling Montanita we were surprised to be greeted with sky rise buildings, heaving traffic and a fairly modern metropolis. After 20 hours of bland scenery it was a sensory assault and did nothing for our already dismal frames of mind.<br />
Having prepared ourselves for two days of nothing, we were all happy to find our hostel and settle in while we braced ourselves for the next leg to Arequipa.<br />
<br />
Mira Flores is most definitely the nicest part of Lima...ritzy, upmarket and maintained, we spent two grey, cold days strolling through the Plaza, checking out the main shopping centre and relaxing.<br />
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On the 15th we were packed and champing at the bit to head to Arequipa...for me, it was the beginning of the most exciting leg of the trip, the famous Canyon country had me excited and it was with much leaping and wahooing that I boarded the bus ready to go.<br />
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The scenery South of Lima was amazing. Miles of desert, yet where the north was dirt and sand, this was white and when bathed in twilight, was eerie and surreal. An endless horizon of white on grey on blue.<br />
We rolled into Arequipa at 6 am the following morning (just in time to see the All Whites score woopa!) and immediately booked a two day tour round Colca before hitting the city to explore.<br />
<br />
Arequipa...words cant come close to describing how mind blowingly, mesmerisingly beautiful this city is. Complete with ancient Spanish architecture, collosal churches and monestaries and an immaculate central Plaza, Arequipa is nestled amidst the Andes mountains...a backdrop that literally left us speechless. To one side, snow capped mountains glistening behind the canyon, to the other, ragged, mars like hills and peaks.<br />
We spent an excited day strolling the streets, sitting atop a rooftop cafe drinking coffee and basking in the sun and celebrating our new found paradise.<br />
<br />
Colca Canyon...<br />
<br />
The next morning we were up at 6.30 ready for our tour bus to pick us up. Itching with excitement we ignored the sleep deprivation and hunger and set off. There were 20 people on the bus and by the end of the two days, we had made life long friends.<br />
We drove for four hours out of Arequipa, through the Andes in what I can only describe as the most amazing, different and rugged terrain I have ever seen. We reached 3900 metres and got out to óoooh ahhh woowwww´at the view...I suffered a mild onset of altitude sickness (dizziness, throbbing headache and fuzzy vision) but was not deterred. Standing amidst the mountains was amazing!<br />
We then carried on to the town Chivaz, set deep in a valley amidst the mountains, where we had lunch before carrying on to Maca. Maca, a pre Incan farming village, is set in a valley of ancient terraces, is as óutlandish as anything I had seen. Dome thatched rooved mud and ash huts, rock walls and terraced farming made for sheer beauty and I was gripped with butterflies at how amazing it all was.<br />
From Maca we climbed up around the valley, scaling rocks and cliff to 4000 metres (exhilerating but exhausting) to visit ancient tombs (complete with mummies, skulls and skeletons) . A truly spiritual experience, the sacred ness of the place was palpable and with the sun setting behind us in the valley, it was a moment of true reverence and personal reflection. <br />
We spent the evening soaking weary but elated and excited bodies, under the stars in natural thermal pools...which, in all accounts, was the perfect ending to the most incredible day. Something words and photos will never do justice.<br />
The following morning we set off at six, stamping in the freezing cold, to the canyon itself all expectant and anticipating to see the famed majestic Condors. The drive up yielded the most amazing scenery I have ever seen making the previous days seem bland and secondary. Rattling high into the moutains we had a perfect view over the whole valley, rivers, lagoons, terraces as far as the eye could see...it was like looking down onto a model of some far away ancient land. My pen has been limply poised trying to find words to describe the view but words fail me.Upon reaching the canyon, we spent two heavenly hours perched atop the cliffs, 3200 metres above a raging river below, watching the Condors soar below and above us...again, like writers block, I am rendered incapable of describing the experience, all I can say is it was the greatest day of my life...not only did I climb new heights, but I reached new heights of emotion and elation.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098342004170848902.post-6553316569498333432010-06-12T21:03:00.000-07:002010-06-19T05:32:51.963-07:00Bienvenido a PeruRolling out of Guayaquil through the mountainous, lush terrian of Ecuador, we were sad to leave, yet excited to be heading to the epi centre of our trip.<br />
Ecuadors landscape is reminiscent of driving through to Palmerston North...rolling hills, lush greenery and then wide open desert...<br />
North Peru on the other hand, is like nothing I have ever seen!<br />
Miles of sandy desert, sweeping around the coast we careened, clinging to the cliffs of sand, literally coasting cliff high on sand dunes all spiralling down to raging ocean...then inland, mountains of dirt and sand...everything blanketed in thick dust and mud. Brown the only colour to be seen, even the buildings, all low slung slinking in the silt, are indistinguishable from a distance...just more lumps limping through the bleak terrain. <br />
Like looking through a dirty camera lens, everything is a dreary hazy beige...like a scene from ´Mad Max´...it is surreal, horrible yet utterly captivating.<br />
Cities and towns literally built on hills of dirt and rocks, no cleanliness, no white, no colour. Half finished buildings everywhere, all poised ready to expand up, are the homes here. Foundations of brick and cement with reinforcing steel poles jutting skyward...laundry blowing in the breeze like flags atop the poles of steel..everything half buried...<br />
No beauty...more like the remnants of a monstrous sand storm...<br />
And enter Lima...a sprawling, raging metropolis...Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098342004170848902.post-54313217253513763802010-06-10T12:18:00.000-07:002010-06-10T12:18:20.324-07:00Farewell MontanitaThree weeks in paradise, not without its challenges.<br />
How to explain the dichotomy that is tranquility and bedlam, in a town that, once sleepy, rustic and untouched, is now literally a building site for tourists.<br />
Mid stretch through a yawn, woken abruptly, vegas esque, castles in sand. Locals thrust into the spotlight, a tourism smorgasboard, spotlight on and not a trained performance ready.<br />
Confused, overwhelmed, uneducated, misinformed, unprepared. Nothing becoming a spectacular literally overnight. Like a car racer with the speed wobbles, the wheels threatening to fall off as everyone learns to navigate whilst learning to drive. <br />
Promises and expectations, a booming mecca, a competition to snare the visitors...genuine intent, true friendships blossoming, yet lost in the mirage and facade.<br />
Romantic ideals mixed with urgent race to succeed...the potential for salty sandy disappointment is high.<br />
We enjoyed the mixture...from anonymous gringos to welcomed family we experienced both ends of the spectrum. The hustle, the surge of offers, the twinkle and glamour...and then the tranquill, trust, reciprocated friendships that blossomed.<br />
It is hard to reconcile the two...knowing that we are just slightly more permanent than those that leave in a few days, yet feeling as if the connection is worth so much more, and will endure so much longer.<br />
With sadness we left...yet happy to know that we have found a second home, a place that, despite the boom, we will be a part of the family that is the foundation.<br />
Farewell Montanita<br />
Hasta Luego!Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098342004170848902.post-67879762975311023432010-06-02T11:56:00.001-07:002010-06-02T11:56:19.726-07:00Montanita es Bonita<div>HELLO!</div><div>Sorry for not being in touch! </div><div>Montanita is like a blissful vaccuum where time disappears into a whole lot of heavenly sunny salty nothingness!, the sun is always shining, the people are laid back and the lifestyle is ten paces behind normal life...its amazing! </div><div>We had no plans to come here, let alone stay yet we have been here nearly two weeks and it is awesome! I am doing Spanish lessons for two hours a day , surfing lessons in the afternoon and enoying hangin out with a great bunch of local dudes...one of whom who happens to be the national Long Board surf champ and professional life guard so we have managed to get some cheap lessons and super cheap board hire!</div><div> I am still waiting on insurance after being robbed in Quito so thankfully, living here is super cheap! Neil is now chief photographer (as I am without camera) so I will send more pics as soon as we can upload!</div>We are living with a local girl who has let us stay for free as we are helping her set up her business (opening a new cafe) so its a perfect set up and has meant we are not spending much money.<br />
<div>The plan is to leave on Monday to head to Lima, which, given how attached to this place we are, will be very hard! </div><div>If anything, being here has taught me that that which is unplanned can sometimes yield the best results...we are all super relaxed and enjoying just living local life, speaking the language, eating the food and taking some time out from moving around.</div><div><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098342004170848902.post-70815879344800423782010-05-20T08:11:00.001-07:002010-05-20T08:11:09.883-07:00Colombia Musing...Dust blowing through me<br />
Wind echoes around me<br />
Skin ripple gently<br />
Tonight the shell is seared<br />
Like knife cut deeply<br />
Blade slicing smoothly<br />
Burning melting seams<br />
Peeling back the outer<br />
Light pouring brightly<br />
Casts shadows darkly<br />
Skeleton revealed<br />
Time for the rebuilding<br />
Softening of stone<br />
Knitting souls hearts bone<br />
Definition own<br />
Renewal completedUnknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098342004170848902.post-33762808362553782592010-05-19T07:53:00.000-07:002010-05-19T07:55:53.053-07:00Quito...Will take your breath away...and it´s not just the atltitude that will leave you dizzy and breathless.<br />
<br />
(Check out this link to see some images http://www.google.com/images?q=quito&hl=en&prmd=mi&source=lnms&tbs=isch:1&ei=yvvzS7TJHIG0lQeruOjjDA&sa=X&oi=mode_link&ct=mode&ved=0CBEQ_AU)<br />
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An unexpected gem nestled in the Andes Mountains, this is a city of contrast, a mosaic of Gothic and Spanish architecture, gritty hardened humanity, beautifully indigenous faces all set against a backdrop of heaven reaching mountains...<br />
Life is tough here and it is marked on the faces of those who have to live here. No amount of church presence can eradicate the urgency and the crime and to be amongst it evokes a mixture of fear, apprehension, compassion and that sadly generic tourist feeling of `wonder`.<br />
We have had four days here casually strolling the streets, breathing in the views, admiring the incredible Gothic and Spanish buildings and enjoying the slow paced life that is Quito. What it lacks in the vibrancy and `hype´ we found in Colombia and Brazil, it makes up for in setting and beauty. Being up so high and in such an amazing place is enough to make the most high strung of us unwind and walk that much slower just to soak it all in.<br />
Sadly, crime is prevalent and, I was robbed whilst sitting in a cafe. Thankfully, no violence was employed, however, it reiterated that as per what we have seen thus far, the facades, soaring towers, majestic churches are a pleasant distraction from the reality of places such as these. Life is cheap, hard sellable goods are what matters and being a tourist, we are pay day on legs.<br />
Determined not to leave with a bitter taste in my mouth, I will savour the memory of Quito, this amazing sky dwelling city.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098342004170848902.post-68519463610842836172010-05-17T15:45:00.001-07:002010-05-17T15:45:41.786-07:00CUSP<div>Like standing on the cusp of now. </div><div>One foot then, the other present.</div><div>A foot fight, rendering movement still</div><div>Tumultous motion hindered reminiscent</div><div> </div><div>Memories and past consequence </div><div>Urging me forward, a dichotomy in mind</div><div>Between past til now defining</div><div>Or past to render, leave behind</div><div> </div><div>A final shrug and sheath like </div><div>A final skin of what was is shed.</div><div>Not caterpillar to butterly, nor then til now</div><div>But that transitition to life, from death</div><div> </div><div>Such an extreme rebirth, a moment take</div><div>Nothing will be recognisable </div><div>Yet for the eyes, reflecting soul and life</div><div>Forever hinting, telling tales</div><div> </div><div>A foot now poised, halfway in step</div><div>The horizon reached, infinity defined</div><div>No longer flat delusional impossiblity</div><div>A simple, flat, crossable line</div><div> </div><div>To cross into ones world of self created</div><div>A world of security in truth</div><div>That transcendant step to future</div><div>Into adulthood and destiny, from youth.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098342004170848902.post-8032403154094545282010-05-10T10:31:00.000-07:002010-05-11T07:30:48.874-07:00Cartagena ... Spanish-esque Carribbean ParadiseSunning it up in Cartagena has been blissful respite after our ordeal getting here.<br />
<br />
.<a href="http://www.google.com.co/images?hl=en&q=cartagena+colombia+pictures&um=1&ie=UTF-8&source=univ&ei=nZDoS6aCHoGdlgetg_S2Aw&sa=X&oi=image_result_group&ct=title&resnum=1&ved=0CBwQsAQwAA" onmousedown="UntrustedLink.bootstrap($(this), "39d96", event);" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">http://www.google.com.co/i<wbr></wbr>mages?hl=en&q=cartagena+co<wbr></wbr>lombia+pictures&um=1&ie=UT<wbr></wbr>F-8&source=univ&ei=nZDoS6a<wbr></wbr>CHoGdlgetg_S2Aw&sa=X&oi=im<wbr></wbr>age_result_group&ct=title&<wbr></wbr>resnum=1&ved=0CBwQsAQwAA</a> is a good link to see some photos<br />
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A Spanish fortified city on the coast is about as far from what I thought I would experience here! We arrived expecting jungle, chaos and slum like living, however, this is the most beautiful place I have ever seen. The Old Town is within the main city and is like stepping into a Spanish time warp everytime we go through the gates, castles, clock towers and stone walls at every turn,, horse drawn carriages and squares filled with tables and musicians. The town is lined with machine gun armed guards, all meant to make the tourists and the rich feel safe, however, they add to the myriad confusion of old and new, safe and dangerous, clean and rotten. No matter how often I see them, young boys with guns is still the most unnerving sight I have encountered.<br />
We are staying just out of the Old Town and here is where the expected cocaine influence is a lot more evident. Prostitutes cradling babies whilst soliciting and dealing drugs is a sight that renches and makes my stomach heave, and the morning sight of high, bug eyed, ignorant tourists jacked up on coke, adding to the disintegration of this beautiful place makes me sick. <br />
As with every place we have seen so far, the ugly and beauty are interlinked, and to love a place, one must learn to accept the parts that make us squirm...yet it furthers my resolve to work and help. Ive been harrassing, emailing and battling the beauracracy in order to arrange to come back here and do something, anything, to improve the lives of those born into the gutteral lifestyle that sludges here.<br />
<br />
Tomorrow we are flying to Cali in South Colombia where we will soak up some Salsa for a few days and more history then cross into Ecuador by bus (we are all nervous about this, after hearing some horror stories about highjacks, robberies, and jungle kidnappings), to Guayacil where we will carry on to Lima by bus.<br />
We aim to be in Cusco and finally up Macchu Picchu in 2 weeks! I have lined up some volunteer work there working in a hostel and teaching English, and also in Bolivia so I am very excited!<br />
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I will write more at the next stop! <br />
<br />
Please keep emails coming<br />
xxxUnknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098342004170848902.post-34354481165168681112010-05-06T13:04:00.001-07:002010-05-06T13:04:42.478-07:005th May - Maracaibo (Ven) - Colombian Border - Maicao (Colombia) - Cartagena (Carribbean Coast Colombia)Pumped and wired on adrenalin we leapt out of bed at 4 am, splashed water on bleary eyes and (after bashing frantically on the hotel door) were let out into the dawn.<br />
The bus station was like a car graveyard come to life, derelict, bashed,, rusted Lincolns, Chevvys and Cadillacs all shuddering and growling over yelling ticket vendors, birds and mumbling sleepy drivers. After choosing our cab (a deep maroon Malibu with a front door lock to open the boot, duct taped windows and no door handles (the car in the BEST condition out of the lot, and with the least obviously intoxicated driver) and negotiating our fare ($210 - a bargain) it was time to nervously wait.<br />
Tattooing the pavement with our nervous side step, incapable of words except the occasional exclamation of 'this is bonkers' and constant, mindless giggling we elevated internal silent prayers, channelled positive energy and hoped for the best!<br />
<i>Our Father who art in Heaven, blessed be this day, your hand on us, protection grant, this is what I pray</i><br />
Feeling sick, jacked up on nerves and energy, excited to the point of shakes and feeling all and every kind of emotion and physiological tingle, surging with unfamiliar energy and utterly overwhelmed with the sheer madness of what lay ahead I scribbled frantically - this is what fuels inspiration, rejuvenates exhausted souls and rekindles the dormant sensation of what it is to TRULY LIVE!<br />
Neil continues to drag heavily on his cigarette and chuckle quietly, and Jeremy, knee deep in American muscle, happily points out that out of all the cars we can see, only 2 have 6 cylinders whilst the rest have 8...he is a happy lad!<br />
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Finally, after an anxious hour long wait, we were presented with official forms (phew, this made us feel a little less worried and make the whole operation seem 'legit'), signed, paid and jumped into the car with our travelling companions (a young Spanish couple) and roared into the morning and into the most surreal landscape I have ever experienced.<br />
A seemingly endless horizon of desert thundering with the sound of literally thousands of pre-1970 American cars, all in major states of disrepair but still thundering healthily, weaving and hurtling at break neck speeds, 4 abreast (in a 2 lane road). It was like being on the set of a Mexican gangster movie.<br />
Massive cattle trucks with people stacked, jammed and shoved inside and hanging on to doors, roof racks and crates, all rushing toward the frontier.<br />
Mud brick, thatched shanty towns litter the desert, makeshift huts and restaurants of lashed together sticks (all of different lengths, with no roofing and no walls) line the road and people lazily swing in their hammocks watching us go by, children playing on the road, in between cars, goats, chickens and cows grazing on whatever they can find...it is nothing I have ever seen, and I keep having to remind myself that it is actually real - that this is how people live.<br />
The drive to the border is like a time warped excursion into a movie, all three of us are stunned and speechless and loving every minute of the madness.<br />
<br />
2 of the most uncomfortable hours later (due to the curved roll together bench seat and lack of suspension) we reach the pre- border patrol for our exit stamps, and after paying a leaving tax (Venezuela is all about squeezing us for cash) we roll to the check point and proceed to be searched.<br />
After having a guard rifle through my pack (including, to his disgust, my dirty laundry and rotting mouldy towel) we shoved stuff back into the cab and proceeded to walk the no-mans land between Venezuela to Colombia.<br />
Every kind of hustler, dealer, opportunist and crim occupies this short space - crammed to overflowing with dingy bars, money exchange offices, dubious tour companies and restaurants, it is a cacophany of noise, pressure, frantic sales pitches and for us, fear. With heads up, eyes blank and arms crossed over passport wallets (all snugly tied under our clothes) we marched confidently (whilst shaking inside) to the office and were interrogated, stamped and welcomed into Colombia! HOORAY!<br />
<br />
<br />
Nothing comes close to the feeling of that moment - unreal!<br />
<br />
12 kilometers later we farewelled our taxi driver at Maicao and prepared the next leg. An 8 hour bus ride to Cartagena...<br />
Jeremy had his first motorbike ride (in jandals, shorts and tee minus helmet) at wreckless speed thru the town to find cash while Neil stood guard over our stuff and I went off to buy some money - I managed to barter the rate and got us a sweet deal on Colombian pesos for Bolivars and (not until later did I realise I was now a crim!) once more we were off!<br />
<br />
Having braced ourselves for all manner of danger (visions of corrupt check point guards, bribery and blackmail and thievery) we were all pleasantly surprised as the trip went without a hitch and we arrived in the stunning city of Cartagena last night.<br />
<br />
HOORAY!<br />
The boys are now having some sleep, Im on the planning operation and in a short few minutes we will be relaxing sea side on the Carribbean!<br />
<br />
xxUnknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098342004170848902.post-44004991033358897142010-05-05T22:17:00.000-07:002010-05-05T22:17:44.321-07:004th May - Ciudade Boliver - Caracas - Maracaibo Venezuela<div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Ciudade Boliver - Caracas - Maracaibo (4th May)</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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</div></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">WOOPA farewell Ciudade Boliver! </span></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">After spending a stressful (not to mention claustrophobic) 24 hours in a hotel we, with much relief and spring in our step, sauntered to the airport and caught a flight to Caracas this morning.</span></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We happily soared above the clouds and relaxed into the ride...arriving 2.5 hours later at Maiguetia Airport (26 kms out of Caracas).</span></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">As we descended faces pressed to the window soaking in the blissful view of crystal blue sea, white sand coastline and soaring mountain excitement and elation overtook the fear and paranoia of the past 3 days.</span></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Without a hitch we collected our baggage and proceeded to book a connecting flight to Maracaibo where we would catch a bus to Cartagena! ahh bliss - Carribbean coast and fishing were dominating our thoughts.</span></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We found a corner possie and spent the day (and a fortune) playing cards and laughing (hindsight being a blessed thing) at the adventure (at the time hellish nightmare) that we had just experienced.</span></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Our flight to Maracaibo left at 6 and a cool 40 minutes (approx 1.5 games of cards and a bread roll later) we landed! (so much for a 10 hour bus ride! we were extremely smug and it was 'high fives' all round).</span></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">A quick (and well negotiated) taxi ride to the bus terminal and we were set (feeling like we were coursing through a back of beyond Mexican shanty town complete with every early model American muscle car relic, pot holed roads, delapidated brick shantys and gutteral drunks) - surreal doesnt begin to describe it!Happily safe and air conned in our modern cab we were still smugly relishing our successful day and the adventure that awaited us ... but, as we have encountered thus far, things are never quite as easy as we first think (or are told! Lonely Planet is definitely NOT the Bible!)</span></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">In my broken Spanish I asscertained that there was in fact NO bus to Cartagena, but a two hour taxi ride to Maicao (just over the Colombian border) and then a bus to Cartagena. This might not sound like much of a mission, in fact, most people (no doubt) would (assuming all cabs are warranted, registered, road worthy and post 1991) think that this was a more comfortable option!</span></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">NOT SO! We were ushered to a car (a pre 1950 derelict Chevy relic, literally held together with duct tape) and assured it was NO PROBLEMO! just a 2 hour saunter to the border for a cool 240 Bolivers (80 NZ dollars for all three of us)...</span></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">NOt to be fooled (or killed in a car crash) I leapt into the throng of gathering hustlers, perverts, nosey locals and tour guides all eager to sell me a ticket (or something) and got my tough face on!</span></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Sure enough, for the first time in Venezuela, it appeared we werent being lied to and after putting heads together we decided that a taxi was clearly our only option, however, a midnight entry into Colombia wasnt.</span></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Thanking them all for their input we lugged our packs across the road to a 'hotel' (if you can imagine some Central american street with dust roads, crammed sidewalks and nervously stacked buildings bulging and shuddering with rot and mould) you would be bang on!Not to be disheartened, and in the throes of excitement we checked in...$12.50 each for the night seemed a bargain, until we were shown to our room! One bed and a mattress on the floor and, on further inspection, non water</span></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">dispensing taps and shower - instead a bucket and scoop in the corner! Managing to semi soap and rinse ourselves we are settled in for a night of snatched excited and nervous sleep ready for our 4am wake up and 5am mission to Colombia!</span></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">BRING IT ON!</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098342004170848902.post-10578699113798809462010-05-03T11:19:00.000-07:002010-05-03T11:19:12.455-07:00Manaus - Boa Vista - Ciudad Boliver (Venezuela)HELLO!<br />
<br />
<br />
Well we are in Ciudad Boliver in Venezuela...hiding in a hotel waiting for an urgently booked flight to Caracas after the most harrowing, stressful, frightening trip of our lives!<br />
<br />
We left Manaus on Saturday morning at 9 am.. after being confident (based on prior bus experiences) that we would have air-con and stretch out room aplenty, we were disappointed - this bus had no room, the air-con was non existent, the windows didnt open and there was no suspension. We endured a sweltering hot, cramped rickety ride to Boa Vista where, on arrival at 2am, we were informed our next bus was delayed til 7.30 on Sunday morning. <br />
<br />
Exhausted, fed up and hungry, we hosed ourselves off (literally) and proceeded to camp out in the (outdoor, unenclosed space) bus station. Sprawled across metal seats and being mauled by bugs we managed to snatch 1/2 an hour sleep before being woken to blaring speakers and freezing cold winds at 5.30 am.<br />
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Scoffing back a $10 hamburger and revolting coffee we borded the next bus at 7.30 and began the next leg...this time the bus had room and air -con, but was set to freezing (we cant win) but we managed a blissful hour sleep before reaching the pre-border stop at 11 am. We got off the bus amidst a flurry of black market cash vendors, drunks and crims all trying to hustle us, sell us money and blind side us. Hastiliy wolfing back miscellaneous greasy pastries we queued at the border crossing to be stamped out of Brazil, then crossed no mans land to be stamped officially into Venezuela.<br />
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Elation and excitement kicked in as we trundled across the border into the mountainous terrain of the Raurima state, however, this soon turned to fear as we went through our first security check - machine gun toting baby faced guards are more intimidating than the older ones! We were stopped every hour and asked to show our passports which became frustrating but added to our exhaustion as we couldnt get to sleep due to being woken so often.<br />
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It became very apparent that the guards were pin pointing us as gringos and were hoping for cash.<br />
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At one point the boys were hauled off the bus, taken into a station and their bags checked, but on the presentaiton of money they were let go and all was fine. Corruption, black mail and bribery all a commonplace part of the Venezuelan military, and apparently something that the locals accept as status quo.<br />
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Shaken up and beyond repair tired and hungry after 2 days of no sleep and only a snatched meal the day before, we reached Ciudad Bolivar at 2 am only to realise how stuck and vulnerable we are.<br />
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With no cash on us we were at the mercy of the taxi driver - who, after driving us round to 6 banks started threatening us (in Spanish) as we had no way of paying him, although we suggested he take us to a hostel and come for money in the morning, so he took us back to the bus depot where he made a huge scene attracting the attention of all the other cab drivers who came to his back up....screaming at us in Spanish, making threatening gestures and generally breaking us down. Thankfully (or so we thought) another driver took pity on us and offered to take us to a hotel and come and collect payment in the morning!<br />
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Bedgraggled, sideways with exhaustion and hunger and utterly incommunicado we checked into a hotel (a cool $240 for the night) and managed to get some sleep! The 'nice; taxi driver showed up first thing this morning whisking the boys to a cash machine and charging $200 for his services withe the friendly heads up that the other taxi driver is looking for us! We have now decided to skip right to Caracas tomorrow on the first available flight (another cool $300) and then on to Colombia (I never thought I would be looking to Colombia as a 'safe' option!) ... Broke, tired and generally scared we are now hiding in a hotel waiting to leave tomorrow morning!<br />
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Talk about an experience! Definitely a story for the autobiography!<br />
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I will write to you as soon as we arrive at Caracas to let you know we are safe and well!<br />
<br />
xx Missing home a lot today!!!Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098342004170848902.post-4581697993320047552010-04-30T08:37:00.000-07:002010-04-30T08:37:18.666-07:00Skater Land - ManausDespite the dreary, rainy concrete drudgery of Manaus, we have had the pleasure of running into the group of Skate boarders from the States again and hooray for fluent English, intelligent conversation!<br />
They are a group of sound, straight up quality guys all in Amazonia to document their skating, leaving a trail of inspiration behind them.<br />
Contrary to popular stigmatisation that skaters are merely pot headed drop outs who have nothing but a board to occupy them, this is a group of well travelled, passionate and exceptionally interesting guys who have, in living their dream, travelled, seen, experienced and contributed to the world more than all the other travellers I have encountered. <br />
I am nigh on heading to the local skate store and kitting myself out to turn my hand at it! After encountering so many stale travellers, with no direction and minimal passion let alone interest in what they are doing, it has been refreshing to meet people with such energy.<br />
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<br />
We have spent the past two days recovering from the boat trip up river and planning our next marathon leg out of Brazil.<br />
Encountering another $800 transport cost to boat upriver then fly to Bogota had me returning to the drawing board and rerouting us (again).<br />
Tomorrow we catch a bus to Boa Vista (20 hours) then get on another bus to Ciudade Boliver in the middle of Venezuela. A colonial city surrounded by national park. We will spend three days there, then bus to Caracas and straight onto another bus across the Colombian border to Caratagena! I CANT WAIT! An old Spanish city fortified and still retaining its beauty and splendour situated on the Carribbean coast!<br />
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It is surprising how quickly travel has become second nature, homesickness has faded with each day and whilst I miss the people, I am engrossed with the journey ahead and excited to see what it will present.<br />
Gone is the hurried stress and panic that accompanied transition and change, and we now approach each move with a relaxed methodology, happy to accept that the only constant is change. <br />
Learning to relinquish control and live in the now is the key to enjoyable travel.<br />
<br />
I will write more when I have scenery and experience to share!<br />
xx Aroha NuiUnknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098342004170848902.post-1322091626507532622010-04-28T11:51:00.000-07:002010-04-28T11:51:46.363-07:00MANAUSWe survived another boat trip!<br />
This time a lot faster than the trip from Belem to Santarem but nowhere near as comfortable and complete with on board molester, drunk crew and blaring music at all hours in the morning!<br />
We arrived at 6 this morning, were extorted by the taxi driver and had to sit in the hostel waiting area until beds were freed up for us BUT we made it!<br />
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We are probably rerouting from here to Boa Vista then on to Venezuela and into Colombia as it is 1/3 the cost of boating to Tabatinga then flying to Bogota and a lot more scenic!<br />
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Absolutely exhausted so time to hit the sack but safe and well<br />
<br />
<3 xxUnknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098342004170848902.post-46460717689780586732010-04-22T09:29:00.000-07:002010-04-22T09:29:20.841-07:0010 UNUSUAL THINGS...10 Things that are unusual, entertaining and just a bit odd ball that we have consistently come across in Brazil...<br />
(this will be completed over the next couple of days before we leave)<br />
<br />
1/ TV AERIALS<br />
No matter where you go in Brazil, streets are lined with people hawking wares - from umbrellas to pirated CDs to fly zapping tennis rackets and underwear, however, the most unusual thing (and the most abundant) is those selling TV AERIALS...hanging from trolleys or make shift carts, bundles of aerials!<br />
Heaven only knows where they get them from OR, for that matter, where they end up (as we havent seen lots of aerials on houses here)...WEIRD!<br />
<br />
2/ THE ONLY WAY IS LOUUUUDDDD<br />
At any given hour on any given day of the week, particularly in Santarem, there will be a cacophony of sound, all coming from the RIDICULOUSLY huge speakers tied (literally) onto the roofs, racks, backs, sides and tops of anything that can be wheeled around. Cars, motor bikes, trolleys and push bikes! With no apparent sound restrictions here, people park up along the river, meters apart, doors akin, speakers on the only volume they know, FULL, having mini parties (a couple or a few people) sitting on the pavement screaming at each other to be heard, all oblivious to each other (apparently, or perhaps all competing) and unaware at the ear exploding distortion being generated.<br />
We cant quite get over it and wonder why noone has cottoned on to the idea of just turning it down a touch so the music is actually clear, OR just shutting up altogether!<br />
<br />
3/Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098342004170848902.post-23949873073581705942010-04-22T09:18:00.000-07:002010-04-22T09:18:24.854-07:00AMAZONIAN PARADISE<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I have had the two most amazing days of my life - never before have I seen or experienced such amazing beauty as I have here.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I feel a true, overwhelming sense of personal fulfillment and achievment, coupled with sheer delight and amazement at the magic that is the Amazon.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Tuesday:</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We went to Alter Do Chao (the Carribbean of the Amazon) and true to its reputation, this white sand river lagoon paradise is breath taking.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">(Copy and paste this link and check out some images) - http://www.google.com/images?hl=en&q=alter+do+chao&um=1&ie=UTF-8&source=univ&ei=i27QS5T5EYinuAeqr4EN&sa=X&oi=image_result_group&ct=title&resnum=4&ved=0CB0QsAQwAw</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We arrived in torrential rain, after an hour long rickety rumbling bumpy bus ride through the forrest, and after some emergency loo stops (the dreaded lurgy has plagued me for the past few days) we whiled away the rain (Amazonian rain, as in Auckland, is thick and heavy but fleeting) playing cards and picking which canoe the boys were going to row! </span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">True to form the rain passed in an hour and we paid for our canoe and rowed out to the peninsula like sand bank. The afternoon was spent in blazing heat, rowing, swimming, making up many ditties about rowing and swimming (we are going to write an Amazonian tunes album...we figure it will reach the Top 10!) and we were elated and exhausted by the time we got back to the hostel! </span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The best time of year to visit is June, however, although half the sand was under water (incl. the cabbannahs) we had an amazing day basking and revelling in the splendour of the place.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Wed - THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE!</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I have spent the past 12 hours trying to figure out what to write that will even remotely describe and express the day I had yesterday.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Amazing, incredible, momentous, overwhelming, cataclysmic...nothing seems to come close to the immense emotions of the day.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Yesterday we went to FLONA - A forest reserve preserved for Agriculture and for the self sustaining communities that live here. A way of exploring and experiencing untouched Jungle and some of the history that abounds there.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">** Insert from a write up on FLONA (just FYI) </span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span onmouseout="_tipoff()" onmouseover="_tipon(this)">The National Forest is an area with forest species predominantly native and has as its basic objective the sustainable multiple use of forest resources and scientific research, with emphasis on methods for sustainable exploitation of native forests (Federal Law No. 9985 of 18 / 07/2000).</span></span> </div><div align="justify" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> <span style="font-size: small;"><span onmouseout="_tipoff()" onmouseover="_tipon(this)"><span class="google-src-text" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left;"></span>The TNF is owned and public domain, and the particular areas included within its limits must be expropriated in accordance with what the law provides.</span> <span onmouseout="_tipoff()" onmouseover="_tipon(this)"> FLONAS is permitted in the permanence of traditional peoples who inhabit it, when it was created in accordance with the provisions of Regulation and Management Plan for the unit.</span></span> </div><div align="justify" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> <span style="font-size: small;"><span onmouseout="_tipoff()" onmouseover="_tipon(this)"><span class="google-src-text" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left;"></span></span><span onmouseout="_tipoff()" onmouseover="_tipon(this)">The research, inclusive, is encouraged, subject to the prior authorization of the agency responsible for administering the unit, conditions and restrictions established by it and those provided by regulation.</span><span onmouseout="_tipoff()" onmouseover="_tipon(this)"><span class="google-src-text" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left;"></span> The TNF will have an Advisory Board chaired by the body responsible for its administration and comprising representatives of government agencies, civil society organizations and, where appropriate, traditional populations living.</span></span> </div><div align="justify" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span onmouseout="_tipoff()" onmouseover="_tipon(this)"><span class="google-src-text" style="direction: ltr; text-align: left;"></span>All this versatility makes the establishment of the complex process of managing the National Forest since it requires the improvement of mechanisms of access to renewable natural resources, demanding, including creating incentives for sustainable social actors involved, since the activities developed there are cycles and long term.</span></span> </div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
**</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We were collected at 8 am by our Portugese guide Isabella and our driver (who navigated the hole ridden dirt roads with all the skill and speed of a rally driver/professional drifter) and, hammer and tong, sped 1.5 hours out of Santarem into the ´Heart of the Amazon´.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Our first stop was the community of Jamaracua (which, as recently as Oct 2009) had electricity and one outdoor communal bathroom with running water). </span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We were greeted by a group of wide eyed locals (the most beautiful girls I have ever seen) and our local guide (Hosevelte) and headed into the forrest for our 4.5 hour explore.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
The secondary forrest is hot, thick and reminiscent of N.Z bush in places. The primary forrest however, is unlike anything I have ever seen. It is cooler and lighter on account of the gigantic trees (including the bohemouth ´sumauna´, a ceiba tree that reaches further than we could see!). The guide kept us well informed as to the uses for plants as we came across them and even had us crush live ants onto ourselves to ward off mosquitos (ironically, none of us got a single bite in the jungle, yet have been feasted on nightly in our window shut hostel! hmmm) </span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We were all amazed and impressed by the way the Latex rubber is collected from the trunks of the trees - using knives, the locals carve diagonal lines about 2 cm deep, into the trunks of the tree releasing the latex which then runs down into a primitive funnel and bowl. VERY COOL! </span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We didnt encounter any major (or huge) creepy crawlies (thankfully) however, the life we did see was beautiful (bugs, butterflies, birds and plant life) all of vibrant colours and such beauty (we took a combined total of 1500 photos in 4 hours)! </span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I dont think any of us spoke a word for at least an hour as we were all spellbound by the overawing sense of wonder and peace that overcame us all - the peace of the place was unnerving in a sense, and the soundtrack of birds was stunning. It was the most surreal experience and one, that even in retelling, has me in goose bumps and misty eyed.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I felt utterly blessed to be in such a miraculous place.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
Four weary (but elated) trekkers emerged four hours later soaking from the humidity and physical exertion and enjoyed a delicious lunch prepared by the local matriarch. </span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Then we were off on our second adventure...and one that can, again, only be described as an experience of immeasurable beauty and incomparable to anything I have (and will ever) ever done. </span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Hosevelt (our amazingly fit guide) took us in a traditional canoe through the ´Flooded Forrest´.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">As the name indicates, it is a part of the forrest that is on the bank of the river and, is flooded until June. </span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Rowing on glass like, mirror reflective water thru vines, and trees was like something out of a fairytale. The eye couldnt see where the trees entered the water and the reflection began so it was a sensation like flying. </span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I wish I could describe it and do it any kind of justice, however, once we have some kind of reliable internet connection, I will post some photos so you can see it.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">From Jamaracua we headed to Maguary - another community - and visited the only manual, locally run, Latex factory. Using basic manual machinery they collect the latex and press it into sheets and use it for making bags, wallets etc...again, we were very impressed. Proof that large scale industry is not the only way to do things, and that these lower scale, human driven traditional methods require a lot more skill and result in much more beautiful products. </span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> We then headed back toward Santarem stopping in at Belterra (the village/town) founded by Henry Ford for the manufacture of Latex products, and later abandoned by him and the workers due to illness and expense.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Walking up colonial American streets in the Amazon jungle was another surreal experience. Red fire hydrants, bleachers and picket fences seemed comically out of place! </span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">By the time we got back to the hotel at 8pm we were all elated, exhausted and totally inspired! </span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I feel fulfilled in a whole new way, that I have finally seen some of our great world in its simplest, most pure beautiful form. </span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blessed are we!</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098342004170848902.post-48485645819187635912010-04-18T15:04:00.000-07:002010-04-18T15:04:27.927-07:00Floating ChildrenA baby in a rowboat<br />
Canoeing deft as walks<br />
Day afloat the Amazon<br />
Boat wake they paddle stalk<br />
<br />
Manouvering with agility<br />
Ropes flung with perfect skill<br />
Pirates inside toddlers<br />
Lightening quick and so nimble<br />
<br />
Lashing, tying and binding<br />
Canoes fill with froth and foam<br />
Clambering up the boat side<br />
To sell and trade goods from home<br />
<br />
The floating river children<br />
Angelic tiny beautfy<br />
Innocent souls compliment<br />
The breathtaking sceneryUnknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098342004170848902.post-63368720302789103692010-04-18T14:57:00.000-07:002010-04-18T14:57:25.083-07:00Amazonian NightI laid at your feet tonight<br />
Breathed in your grandeur<br />
You inhabit my soul<br />
Infinite night sky to sandy bottom<br />
Igniting my imagination<br />
Sitrring my passion<br />
So insignificant am I<br />
A speck at your threshold<br />
Surrounding me my spirit releases<br />
Your halo is light I bask in<br />
I am still in your majesty<br />
Rock me gently<br />
Roll me lightly<br />
Tonight I sleep peacefullyUnknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098342004170848902.post-43062343320190526772010-04-18T14:54:00.000-07:002010-04-18T14:54:54.787-07:00MirrorO mirror mirrow where are you<br />
Im desperately trying to find myself<br />
I cant see me without your glassy view<br />
<br />
Like stumbling blindly in the night<br />
Hands outstretched fingers reach<br />
Groping looking for switch for light<br />
<br />
With nothing my reflection to create<br />
In dark internal self I sit<br />
To introspect and contemplate<br />
<br />
Mirror mirror off the wall<br />
How blind was I looking to see<br />
Your image wasnt the real me at all<br />
<br />
Self confrontation darkness lit<br />
And no longer searching, self been found<br />
In peaceful illumination I do sitUnknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6098342004170848902.post-19177765222123733482010-04-18T14:50:00.000-07:002010-04-18T14:50:28.758-07:00BELEM - SANTAREM (2 days, 3 nights by boat)No words can express the grander, majesty or sheer size and wonder that is the Amazon river, nor will any experience ever come close to that of rocking to sleep in a hammock alongside 200 people on a boat. People literally strung within inches of each other, staggered hammocks from floor to ceiling, bow to stern, a chaotic mess of limbs and string and colour. <br />
The noises and smells were overwhelming at first - a sensory overload, however, they became backdrop within the first 24 hours, and tangled rocking sleep soothing and peaceful.<br />
We left Belem on Tuesday night and rolled down the Amazon in torrential rain and pyrotechnic lightening. It took a few goes to master the art of clambering in and out of a hammock without breaking a limb or standing on the person below. <br />
The scenery encountered on the trip was utterly amazing - never could I have imagined the variations in landscape, the houses on poles literally meters away from the boat as we sailed down tributaries...people living waterbound in the jungle will never cease to amaze me! From narrow tributaries to endless river where we couldnt see either side, dense jungle to flat marshland and swamp, cliffs and mountains to flat nothing...sky meeting river meeting jungle...for the first time in my life I was truly awe struck by the majesty that is nature.<br />
I think the two most mind blowing sights for me were the hundreds (literally) of children (tiny children) rowing solo or in pairs up river and chasing the wake of the boat in an attempt to clamber on board to beg or sell Coconuts and bags of shrimps. Nimble toddler pirates...utterly breathtaking and nerve wracking to watch these tiny children brave the wake of our huge boat and with lightening speed lash onto the side of the boat and shimmy up to clamber on board all the while carrying bags of food to sell...(I manged to capture it all on film and got chatting - in my very broken Portugese - to the kids. They left me moved, inspired and filled with a new found sense of thrill and joy and appreciation for the way they live).<br />
The further upriver we went, the more índigenous´the people became, I can quite honestly say, the people I saw are the most beautiful I have ever seen, and the more incredible the way they survive in such a watery environment. Farm life (pigs, donkeys, buffalo and cows) literally up to their necks in water munching on what I can only describe as Amazonian grass, satellite dishes dangling precariously on thatched rooves all perched on poles, canoes tied afront and thick impenetrable jungle directly behind them...I stared in amazement (and shamelessly took hundreds of photos) as we sailed past. <br />
The last night onboard was the first without rain so we lay up deck watching the stars rocking lazily...nothing compared to such an experience - Realising the scope and infinity of the night sky, and our tiny selves afloat the huge river had me speechless and awestruck - I am indeed blessed to have experienced something so magical and so great.<br />
<br />
We will spend the next few days in Santarem exploring, going on a jungle tour, going to a couple of river side villages, visiting the wondrous Altar Du Chao (Carribbean of the Amazon) and sailing up tributaries into more dense jungle to see untouched Amazonian Wildlife.<br />
<br />
Love to you all!<br />
PS at this stage uploading photos is proving to be difficult and we have over 3000 now so I will do my best to get some up asap.<br />
xxxUnknownnoreply@blogger.com