(11:15, 18 March 2011, La Casa de la Paula, Sector Papirua, Chile) The sound of the waves has been right outside the door for a day and a half now, and still I sometimes look out at the sea just to check that it’s real. It’s a brown beach, unlike the beaches I am used to, but its lovely. Pine forest lines the shore and spreads up and down, and up and down the horizon hills behind the houses. There certainly aren’t a lot of people around. Yesterday evening I went for a walk on the beach. And I had a laugh because, if I was worried about finding my way back to the right place, I just had to follow my own footprints – they were the only ones on the whole beach. Read the rest of this entry »
You are currently browsing articles tagged Friendly people.
(27 October, hostel common room, still in Quito, Ecuador) I’ve been in Quito for more than a week now. I have checked out and checked back in to my hostel twice. This last time was because one of the guys I met in Guayaquil, and then again in Banos, is heading to Colombia tomorrow and asked if I’d like to travel with him for the next few weeks up to Cartagena.
The first time was because I invested in an mp3 player which, being the cheapest one I could find, didn’t turn on. So I couldn’t leave that night and had to go get my money back when they opened the next morning.
(After an implausibly long time of fiddling with a device that only has 4 buttons, the shop assistant finally conceded that it was useless and gave me a refund. So yesterday afternoon I went to a fancy shop that sells everything, and took exactly $70.70 with me. That would stop me spending too much, I thought. A mistake I have made only too often. Standing swaying on the bus, I thought through the contents of my handbag hanging from my suspended arm, which I had zipped shut on advice to avoid theft, and cursed myself for not at least bringing my bank card in case. Read the rest of this entry »
(Sunday 17th October, in a cloud, sitting in the upstairs dining room of a community project hostel, Quilatoa, Ecuador) After Independence Day in Guayaquil, I took a bus to Riobamba, sitting next to a young man, who even when I told him I was engaged and would be returning to South Africa to plan my wedding whilst my fiance completed his studies, insisted on paying the taxi to my hostel, walking me in and gifting me with an enormous bag of bananas. The next place I wanted to spend a few days was Banos to the north west, but from Riobamba there is a road southeastwards to the jungle town of Macas that goes right through the middle of Sangay National Park and I wanted to see what Ecuadorian cloud forest and rain forest is like. I could have done an organized trip from anywhere here on the tropical side of the country, but they’re not cheap. So instead I took a few very affordable buses and made my own little scenic detour. Unfortunately my camera was dead, so you’ll have to take my word for it – the journey was amazing! Read the rest of this entry »
Tags: Culture, Friendly people, Nature, Spanish
(10:45, 1 August, taking refuge in our room, San Ignatio de Moxos, Bolivia) I’m definitely not hung-over because the drink on offer last night was Leche de Tigre (Tiger’s Milk), warm milk with spices and near pure alcohol, so I probably managed about 4 Tablespoons over the 8 odd hours we spent in the improvised bar, dancing with a local pregnant woman and her husband and sister. Nevertheless my brain has the distinct feeling of being removed from reality, like that which comes with the morning after. It may have something to do with the fact that there is a live brass band surrounded by drunk dancing men just outside our door in the courtyard of our hostel. Tireless! They have no doubt been playing all night, one of the older guys is asleep, his head hanging forward and his trumpet fallen to the floor beside him. It’s coming down in buckets and the drunk hostel owner’s wet clothes are evidence of the harzards of having a tiled floor. But the rain hasn’t dampened the energies of the few wasted guys trying to convince anyone walking past to join in by cajoling damply into your ear and feeling you up. Read the rest of this entry »
Tags: Culture, Friendly people, Nature, South Africa, Spanish
(22:35, 23 July, Bed in Room 1 next to the stairs of Hospedaje Paola, Samaipata, Bolivia) I wouldn’t say I was scared, but I still took the precaution of standing on the bed before I lifted my food packet to reveal that it was only the curly plastic that had come loose from the very book I am writing in, and not a mouse which had been my momentary imaginative suspicion. The thing is, there’s a bit of a scratchy rodenty noise in my ceiling which I can hear along with the chatter and cutlery clatter of downstairs, and between the spates of magnified flushings and drippings and gushings from the bathroom directly above me. The plumbing forms 2 diagonal pipe stripes hanging from the ceiling, in the corners of my room towards the barebulb light. I thought of asking for a different room but even upstairs in the shared kitchen every noise seems amplified. Only a little less than in my room, as I waited for the kettle to boil, I could hear the noisy conversation in the restaurant two floors down; the shuffling of chairs, the metal on metal sounds of the preparation of food, footsteps up and down, as though it was all happening right inside my own head. I’ve been reading quite contently with my fancy earphones transmitting silence to mute the commotion, but I took them out for a moment’s break, and I feel like the antisocial cousin locked in my room entertaining myself during a family gathering. The hostel isn’t particularly dirty, the bed’s ok and the staff seem friendly enough. It’s just that there are at least three generations of them and they are all down in the restaurant having a lively dinner while I’m cooped up in my single room, my door only a few stairs away.
Tags: Food, Friendly people
(12:45, Monday 31st May, under grape vine in little garden of Hostel Laguna Brava,Villa Union, Argentina) I was struggling to organize a trip from La Rioja to the national parks I wanted to go to, as a solo traveller, for any less than 500 Argentinian pesos = R1000. I would happily have stuck around in La Rioja and waited for a group, it really was so lovely, but Mondays are slow days (even slower than normal) and I had already taken two nights advantage of Andrew’s generous “Southern hospitality” as he called it, so I thought I’d better move on. I wasn’t keen to miss out on seeing the parks altogether, if I was so close, and it sounded like the best way to find a cheaper option was to bus to nearby Villa Union as early as I could and try to organize from there. If I still couldn’t afford to go that day, I had decided I’d hang around in Villa Union for the day and try catch a night bus to Tucuman.
So I tiptoed out of Andrew’s at like 6 this morning and watched the sun rise over some of the most stunning mountain scenery from my bus window. I only reached Villa Union at lunch time, so an afternoon trip wasn’t looking promising. But the tour company had no trouble convincing me to stick around for tomorrow’s much cheaper trip when they told me about the very nice, very reasonable hostel here and that the buses to Tucuman go back through La Rioja anyway – I wouldn’t really have wasted a day. So here I am in the picturesque, mountain-lined, vineyard-ful town of Villa Union, in this wonderful, quaint, little hostel with just four other people – none of whom speak English (sigh, but its definitely better for me, because I have to practise my Castellano). The tour tomorrow sounds incredible and includes a little hike which is why it’s so good to have somewhere to put my bag down and relax for the evening, cook some dinner. I’ll go for a little wander this afternoon which the tour lady recommended for sunset. And you know how I feel about sunsets
(09:10, Friday 4th June, common room of Tucuman Hostel, Tucuman, Argentina) Back in a big city so I’ve got some internet time. The tour to Talampaya was incredible. Unfortunately instead of the friendly, helpful tour lady from the office who spoke perfect English (and French) the guide who took us was a slightly yellow tinged old guy who seemed to be very knowledgable between cigarettes but who wasn’t really interested in speaking English for my benefit. Luckily the Argentinian couple who made up our little three person tour group were what South Americans call “divino”! They spent the whole trail translating to me with actions and charades, despite the fact that they spoke far less English than the guide, and helping me with my Castellano while we chatted earnestly about how beautiful it all was. Theresa: “Que lindo, no?” Me: “Si! Muy lindo!”
We had scarcely seen our first red rock construction when Marcello asked what I would be doing the following day. Maybe Valle de la Luna? Or another part of Talampaya? I explained that I would be catching the night bus to Tucuman, because I couldn’t really afford more than one excursion. They insisted that I stay on and go with them on the trip they were planning for the next day. They had a car and were planning to pay a guide anyway, so there’d be no further expense if I joined them and I really needn’t contribute. I know, hey?!
The tour the following afternoon was fantastic! Even Theresa explained to me, in half English, half Spanish, that she had “could feel it much better” because of the “energy of the man” ie. the guide was a vast improvement on the last one. An enthusiastic young local, midway through studying tourism specializing in archeology, who laughed along with us when we tilted our heads, straining to see the imaginary figures in the rock formations of The Valley of Magic. He even scored us a glass of foot-pressed wine in Banda Florida, the nearby village, from one of his bodega neighbours – much more delicious than the cheapo box wine I had taken up to the viewpoint with me the day before.
This is the facebook album for Talampaya and all the little places between:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=183968&id=504021698
Generated by Facebook Photo Fetcher
Tags: Educational, Friendly people, Spanish
(lunch time – not sure, have taken watch off, Saturday, sitting on bench just outside of spray of crazy fountain, Plaza de Mayo, La Rioja, Argentina) The next stop on the Gringo Trail after Cordoba is Tucuman, but I met an American guy, Andrew, at Hostel Palenque who offered to have me stay at his place in La Rioja which is on the way. He’s a Fulbright cultural exchange scholar so he’s teaching English at the university here.
There are two amazing national parks, Talampaya and Valle de la Luna, but they’re way out of town so I haven’t decided if I’ll fork out for the organized tour to see them, but there are a couple of museums and interesting places I’m hoping to see while I’m here.
Andrew’s apartment is typical male student vibe, reminds me of Adi’s digs in Cape Town. Small kitchen with potatoes, cereal and orange juice. A living area empty but for a table and chairs and the patch of corner floor I’ve annexed to unpack all my stuff. While it’s a well-known truth that most household showers require an instruction manual or a short security briefing about the two-and-a-half turns to the left prior to their first use, he admits his is very South America. To heat the water you fill something that looks like a toilet cistern mounted up on the wall with a plastic shower head protruding from the base. A wire draped over the top of the mirror connects it to the socket across the room where the heater is plugged in. Give it some time (more than I did – I impatiently compromised on a cold shower) and when you open the little tap on the shower head the water coming out should be warm. Don’t forget to unplug though, or you’ll shock yourself touching the tap.
Considering this, he’s been so so good as to provide me his spare bed and has fed and looked after me far better than I might have asked, and all because “we travellers have to help each other”. I’m so grateful, honestly. Also, luckily, he’s in a great location right near the centre of things for touristy activities. So I’ll do a lil reckie of the town this afternoon and see what I can see.
Took a couple of pics around the town, here’s the facebook album
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=183966&id=504021698
- Little kid in Argentina jersey watching fountain, ah
- St Nicholas statue from bus window, on the way out of La Rioja, early early in the mo…
Generated by Facebook Photo Fetcher
Tags: Friendly people, Technology
(09:25, Friday! It’s Friday the 21st! When did that happen?! That’s 3 weeks! Sitting on rain jacket on wet bench, Plaza Constitution, Paysandú, Uruguay) You may have noticed, but my journey has involved a lot of Plazas, Constitutions, Independencias, 18 de Julio and 25 de Mayos. There’s also a lot of Artigas here in Uruguay and right now I have Gomez pointing dramatically at the ground in front of me, sword in hand, with a very sweet little bird on his military cap and what appears to be a big birds’ nest on his right shoulder pad.
I’ve been seeing so many things which obviously have historical or other significance on top of the aesthetic value I attribute to them. Unfortunately museums rarely have English information and my Argentinian and Uruguyan history is patchy at best. And I certainly wouldn’t dare ask for any more information from one of the many many people whose patience I have tested over the last few weeks (all of whom have been great) as I fumble over the jumble of Spanish and English in my head, the occasional Afrikaans or even Zulu word popping up in earnest…
(20:04, Fri 21 May, Paysandú Bus Terminal, Uru) I have 2 hrs to kill and even I think what I was writing this morning was boring. I’ll summarize: Basically, I checked out in Montevideo and went to the bus station to catch whatever I could in the direction of Argentina. I ended up alone in the huge dorm at the riverside sport-club in relatively wealthy Mercedes, close to the border. I met a young South African lady who informed me that the border crossing I had planned had been closed for years and it was not unusual for people to find that out only when they arrived in the one-horse town I had been heading for. So I bought a ticket for the earliest trip to the next border town northwards, Paysandú, which would give me most of the day there to organize a ticket onwards to Argentina. So I’ve spent an unplanned day each in the small Uruguayan towns of Mercedes and Paysandú and both have been incredible. Honestly, my heart has been so touched at how nice everyone has been, I feel tears climbing from my chest when I think about it.
It’s become routine to head to the tourist office in a new town and get the standard map and a run-down of the highlights. At the unlikely looking tourist information in Mercedes was the most incredible charming woman. She sat me down and did her best to explain the significance of each dot on the map – I was normally satisfied with a few circles indicating the best stuff for a gringo tourist to see. She not only offered me the internet in their office to check my mail, she especially organized a car for the afternoon so she could take me to this phenomenal paleontological museum in a castle up the river. She had the curator show us around the collection personally, including a room full of things not on display, and give me a guided tour of the historical venue complete with a view of the river from the watchtower on the roof. We chatted about the tourist industry and their restoration plans as we drove back to the town centre. Then she had the town cathedral opened and all the lights turned on just for me to see – it had been closed when I went that afternoon.
One of her recommendations had been an exhibition of European and Latin American art. When I arrived, again the whole place was unlocked and the lights turned on just for me and the actual art restorer walked me from painting to painting detailing the history, techniques and even the iconography of each. It was without doubt the most indepth conversation I’ve ever had about art and it was in a mash of English, Spanish and gesticulations. He also showed me the hundreds of pieces lying waiting to be restored in his workroom, or simply stuck away because there’s no space.
This morning I stopped writing because I was bored of my own winge that I don’t know the histories behind most of things I’ve been seeing. I whipped out my map after ignorantly contemplating Gomez’ statue for a while, and a random guy approached me. He said he could see I was a tourist, would I like to know the story behind the statue I’d been staring at? I admit, “Don’t talk to strangers” kept me cautious especially when he offered to accompany me until his appointment at 1pm. But he translated the whole Museo Historico for me and made sure we had a guide at this fantastic cemetery/museum which I would never have organized alone.The guide was so passionate about the place and the three of us had this incredible discussion about the symbolism in the graves and the set up of the cemetery – it was great!
So although my stint in Uruguay has been quite short, the people have all been so patient and nice to little gringa me with my inability to speak Spanish. Mom, I told the women from tourist info that you would be so glad that she had been nice to me and she sent her greetings. I know, so nice hey?!
Tags: Educational, Friendly people, Spanish
What You’ve Been Saying