David and Louise's honeymoon

Our adventure around the world started on the 23rd July 2011 with our unforgettable wedding in South Africa. It was fitting that our odyssey was to end with another wedding halfway around the world in Sao Paolo, with the marriage of the couple who had gotten engaged the day after us in December 2010. What better way to end our honeymoon by celebrating the start of another's. However, before that, we were still enjoying the wonderful Brazilian coast and the island of Ilhe Grande. This was our first stop on the way from Rio to Sao Paolo. While partially winding down and preparing mentally for coming home after four months, there was still a lot to do and we were not done by a long shot.

Ilha Grande, Brazil (13-16 November)

This island had been recommended by virtually everyone who had been to Brazil, and who are we to argue? On meeting with the boat to bring us to the island, we were told to meet "Joe". Being a non-descript, global name, Joe could have been anyone, but we weren't expecting whom we actually met. Turns out Joe was not only South African, but was Afrikaans-speaking from Pretoria, and he went to the same high school as Rudolf, and his wife Sarie was in Rudolf's primary school. They came from Pretoria to visit Praia Vermelha on the far side of the island 3 years ago, and before they left, they had bought the plot of land where their new guest house (Villa Pedra Mar) is now open for business.

Despite battling Brazilian bureaucracy (including a 2 year moratorium on building, during which they lived in their half completed guest house), and local objections (the flat rock on which they built their jetty is apparently the place treasured by the locals for the fact that the local women traditionally lose their virginity on it), they have built a stunning guest house on the rocks, and serve wonderful caipirinhas and delicious meals, as well as being extremely hospitable hosts. Rudolf was overjoyed to meet fellow Afrikaans-speakers and I think they were equally excited. We shared the guest house with a young couple from England who were also on honeymoon (sadly for us, they had booked the gorgeous honeymoon suite).

The one thing that didn't play along was the weather, with rain and cloud being the norm for our 3 days there. However, we still managed to swim in the clear water, which would have been glorious in the sunshine and snorkel in the rocks around our beach. The main tourist area of Ilha Grande is on the opposite side of the island, which we didn't go to, but we did walk through the Atlantic rainforest to the larger beach to have (yet more) caipirinhas and enjoy the wonderful mix of rustic beach life and restaurants with a public holiday weekend crowd, as well as cute colonial buildings and, of course, kids playing soccer on the beach. These kids could have taken on the Irish professional football team today in 5-a-side beach football and I'm sure they would have given a good run for their money.

One of the nights, we were treated to a private dinner in a secluded area of the guest house - due to being one of the honeymoon couples. It seemed a bit weird, but it was actually great to have an hour for a romantic meal by ourselves. Sadly the other honeymoon couple were to due to have their romantic dinner the next night, but the torrential downpour meant they had to sit with the rest of us. Luck was on our side, despite being on our honeymoon with our parents

Paraty (16-18 November)

Paraty is effortlessly charming and full of great restaurants and bars, as well as having a gorgeous beach setting. It was the port the Portuguese used to send gold to Portugal after the pirates started ravaging all the other sea routes. After the gold rush, however, a big road was built from Rio to Sao Paulo that skipped Paraty altogether. Luckily this meant that the beautiful colonial architecture from the golden era was not destroyed when independence came (unlike most of the rest of Brazil), because it was too far out of the way to destroy. The town is also in the Ilhe Grande bay, so it's surrounded by hundreds of islands and beaches.

Our ferry and three hour transfer, therefore, felt worth it when we finally arrived in the beautiful Paraty. The first surprise was that the quality of pizzas in Brazil is much higher than anywhere else in South America. The bases are thin and the ingredients are fresh. We really saw this when we had our first lunch there, with the best pizza we had had since New York..? This is a mystery though because Argentina also had an influx of Italian immigrants, but somehow they can't compete with the Brazilian ex-Italians.

Our hotel (a very old colonial building) was right in the middle of the pedestrian historical city center, so the four of us could simply walk around and explore the town. This is despite the most treacherous cobbled streets in the world, which will turn an ankle in a heartbeat if one is not paying attention. This still being our honeymoon, we split up from the folks for both evenings. Paraty's nightlife is quite lively and there are so many restaurants that have local samba bands or solo guitarists. Sure, you get charged for just being there, but it's worth it because the music is a treat. The four of us even ended up drinking some extra caiparinhas in the same place on the first night because the music was so good.

On that note, Paraty is also famous for being the cachaca capital of Brazil. We found this out that first night when we were presented with an eleborate cachaca menu. The waiter even gave us tips on which ones are best for drinking straight (the aged ones) and which is best for caipirinhas (the white ones). Obviously, we stayed in this restaurant for a while and ordered 'married prawns' to share. These are big prawns that are stuffed and then two are fried into a pair. Very cute and very tasty if slightly confusing.

When the rain finally stopped and the sun shone, we walked up to the old town fort which is only really impressive because of its magnificent views of the bay. It is simply incredible. Then we went to the beach. The Gouwses had been converted to the Cosgrave's way of thinking by now and Rudolf softly started asking for a caiparinha around 11:45am... So we stopped at a beach bar and ordered four for R$6 each... What else could we do? The bar also happened to be holding a beach barbeque, so we decided to sit, read and wait for the food. However, we again had to discipline some foolish tourists who insisted on giving scraps to the marauding packs of stray dogs on the beach. Still, it was better than watching your wallet for fear of light-fingered monkeys.

Sao Paolo (18-20 November)

Sao Paolo isn't top of the list when it comes to tourist spots in Brazil, but Johannesburg is equally considered, so we decided to give it the benefit of the doubt. When we asked the taxi driver how long it would take to get to Sao Paolo, the answer was "Four hours to Sao Paolo, six hours to the hotel". We realised why this was when we arrived on the outskirts of Sao Paolo. The city just stretches in all directions from horizon to horizon, with vast stretches of high rises in huge pockets across the city.

Two hours into our drive through the city, we headed for the Trans-America hotel. We were stunned when we walked in, as it was top quality, 5+ star all the way. After some initial confusion with the snooty concierge, where they couldn't find our reservation, Rudolf triumphantly produced the hotel voucher to prove our right to be there. The wind was taken from our sails when he snidely told us there was a different Trans-America about 20 minutes away.

However, our new hotel was perfectly fine, and was chosen for its location near the wedding venue. Being foreign guests, we were invited to the real deal which was the civil ceremony taking place the night before the wedding. This was in the apartment of the bride's sister and her husband. The apartment took up half of an entire floor of the apartment block, and the lift even opened up into their apartment. We had a wonderful reunion with the South Africans who had made the long voyage, and also met many of the Brazilian relatives.

Just before heading to the apartment, David had spotted a beer emporium which sold hundreds of Brazilian, European and American beers. He was distraught that he could not purchase enough of these unusual beers. However, his disappointment was turned to joy as Dani's sister's husband was a craft beer enthusiast and had catered for the party with many unusual Brazilian and American beers. We later learned he owned seven bars and a group of pizza restaurants in Sao Paolo (somewhat explaining the amazing apartment).

The civil ceremony took place on the balcony, and was actually the official marriage ceremony. It is an unusual way to do things, but it was great to see the actual wedding take place in such intimate surroundings. We got a great view of the nice areas of Sao Paolo, with Joburg-esque tree-lined suburbs and attractive parks and apartment buildings. Afterwards, we headed to a bar owned by the host and were treated to round upon round of "chopp" beer, which is the Brazilian draught beer, served with half-head, half-beer. However because they keep it flowing so regularly, you don't even notice after a while.

The wedding itself was quite a spectacle and it was weird seeing the different traditions in Brazil. The whole wedding party had to stand on the altar for the whole ceremony, with Pieter's mother coming over a little faint after a while, and needed a a chair to sit on. The reception was also wonderful, with the combined treats of a caipirinha bar, Johnny Walker Black trays and midnight samba drummers to see us through 'til 5am.
Not as hungover as we had expected, we headed for the airport the next day to finally leave the Americas for the first time in 3.5 months. We had a mammoth journey ahead of us - because we had the round-the-world ticket, we had to fly back across the Pacific Ocean. This meant a four hour flight to Santiago, a 14 hour flight to Auckland, and a four hour flight to Sydney. Two days later, we'd be flying back to South Africa, just enough time to totally mess our body clocks up.

Sydney, Australia (22-24 November)

A new continent, a new language (English!) and a totally new ecosystem - Australia was the biggest change in 2 months. While the weather was also atrocious, we were determined to make the most of our last few days. Sydney, of course, is very walkable - with wonderful waterfronts and tourist attractions. A huge treat was an animal park (Sydney Wildlife Experience) on the river. While it might have been touristy and sad, it was actually great because of the huge diversity of animals in Australia. We forget how different their ecosystem actually is. Monster crocodiles, giant insects, snakes galore and, most alarmingly, huge red kangaroos (whom we would not want to ever meet in the wild) made it a really interesting experience.

Hitting the tourist spots hard and fast, we went to the top of the tallest skyscraper in Sydney for a waterlogged view of the city, and then finally to the middle of the Sydney harbour bridge, where we got suitably soaked and got our first glimpse of the Opera House. After walking down across the harbour, we got to the Opera House, which is remarkable in person, although being (we felt) slightly dated inside.

We stayed near Chinatown, and got to eat some delicious Thai food one evening, despite queuing for 45 minutes for the privilege. That's how you know it's good I suppose! It was probably just as well, as Sydney is abhorrently expensive to live. You know those photos they take of you on roller coasters or at tourist spots and then sell back to you? Normally you'd expect to pay maybe R100. In Sydney, they charge AUS$35 (R280). The train from the airport to the city is also AUS$30. A 400ml beer was AUS$6.50. So we went cheap for the last few days.

Having brought our penguin across the world for 4 months, we had almost lost her twice. Third time looked to have been fatal, however. On the train from Sydney airport into the city, we realised with horror that Louise had left her bag on the platform, with our young penguin inside. With no other option but to wait for the next stop, get off, get the train back four stops and rush to the platform, we were sure that the paranoid Australian authorities would have confiscated or "destroyed" the unattended baggage. Needless to say, there was to sign of the bag. But some frantic pleading to the security staff and some enquiries to the cleaners, they discovered they had the bag, with penguin sleeping safely inside. Our confidence shot, we were fully sure we would be foolish enough to get her back to South Africa only to leave her on the Gautrain from the airport.

We really enjoyed our weekend in Australia, but our funds were so depleted that we couldn't thoroughly do everything we wanted to. Thanks to Julius for sponsoring our wildlife park and aquarium trips, as well as Gillian for our Opera House entry!

Back to South Africa (23 November)

It was with huge excitement and equal sadness that we boarded our plane to Johannesburg. Of course we were looking forward to seeing our friends, being in our own house, paying normal prices, speaking English, driving our own cars and of course heading to Parkhurst on a Sunday afternoon. However, as we were to find out, we would miss the excitement of discovery, the stimulation of meeting new people, the happiness of spending every single day together and the joy of being "on honeymoon" for four months.

Taking the Gautrain back from OR Tambo to Rosebank, we revelled in being able to use 3G on our phones. No more fighting for Wi-Fi passwords in restaurants! Getting off the train, we searched for a taxi and found a small dodgy-looking Toyota Tazz with the barest of credentials. "What the hell?" we thought, "we'd have taken that taxi happily in Bolivia!". Perhaps that has been our biggest mind shift - we've met people from all races, religions, social levels and languages, and have found that people are people, each one with their own lives, motivations and opinions. Trust a person and you will be surprised in what you find.

The ultimate irony was that we arrived at the gates of our house without keys, and due to Elsa forgetting to leave us a key, we had travelled thousands of kilometers and were unable to get the final ten meters into our own house. Standing forlorn outside our gates, we finally saw Elsa arriving, and our lives in South Africa started again from where they had left off.

While the phrase "life-changing experience" is overused and misunderstood, we definitely changed for the better. We have new sense of wonder about the world, and that doesn't mean we have to travel 12 hours overseas to find new experiences. Our own city has many treats in store for us, and we will no longer feel anxious about going to the Johannesburg CBD, given that we walked around La Paz, Bolivia without a thought. We have so much to see and do in South Africa, and we have a new motivation and curiosity to do it all.

What's funny is how little changes in four months. People went to work, some bought a dog, others took a trip to the Kruger, but life carried on as normal. It's hard to express in a few words what we had gone through, but perhaps it is best that we are the only people who know the good times, the bad times, the joyful times and the difficult times that we went through together. It sets us up well for our lives together!

Think of South America and images of tropical jungles, exotic animals and vast rivers come to mind immediately. So far, we had seen very little of this, with mostly bleak Andean highlands or dry desert regions being where we had spent the majority of our five weeks to date. We were ready to get stuck into the real deal with a voyage down the river to the Amazon rainforest, before heading to the monstrous concrete jungle that is the world's third largest city, Sao Paolo (via beautiful Rio and its islands).

Amazon Rainforest, Brazil (6 Nov-10 Nov)

Having had our fill of civilization for the time being, it was time to head to a totally different world. We were headed for the city of Manaus, which is so much in the middle of nowhere that it is only possible to reach it via boat or plane - despite being a modern city of two million people. It's the main base from which to explore the Amazon rainforest, specifically the area at the confluence of the Rio Negro and Rio Solimoes (the other name for the Amazon), which merge and continue as the Amazon. 

Upon reaching the airport at 11:30pm to 31 degree heat, our overnight hotel's shower was remarkable for having the strongest water pressure on the planet. This must be because one-fifth of the world's fresh water flows nearby - clearly water shortages are not an issue here.

The trip to the hotel in the middle of the jungle is normally a 2.5 hour ride by canoe down the river, but through a stroke of good luck, they opened a new bridge only the previous week, meaning we only had a 30 minute boat ride in the midday sun. The hotel itself (the Ariaú Towers) is constructed entirely on wooden stilts, since the river floods a full 8 meters higher in the wet season. Even so, the previous year, the whole place had flooded, and thankfully we were there in the dry season, as it wouldn't have been nice having a piranha or crocodile floating into your room.

Considering its location in the middle of the jungle, the hotel is amazing, with air conditioning (thank you!) and a huge restaurant and bar area. While it seemed quite popular with middle-aged American tourists, this is probably because your average young backpacker would not be able to afford it. And while it may be more "adventurous" to stay in a tent on an island somewhere, we were instantly thankful of the choice when we entered the air conditioned room and drank our first caiparinha from the hotel bar. Also, given the average backpacker we met was been between 22 and 25, it was refreshing to be the youngest people there! 

We were situated on a tributary of the Rio Negro, about 2 km from the river, and the river was where the majority of the wildlife is to be found. Our first taster was the classic Amazon adventure of piranha fishing. While we expected most piranha myths to be debunked, we were not prepared for the sheer numbers, speed and efficiency of the little monsters.

Below is Theodore Roosevelt's description of piranhas, as taken from his book on Brazil's rainforest written in the early 20th century. Many say this description is actually responsible for the worldwide impression of the vicious school of piranha which devour anything in the water.

"They are the most ferocious fish in the world. Even the most formidable fish, the sharks or the barracudas, usually attack things smaller than themselves. But the piranhas habitually attack things much larger than themselves. They will snap a finger off a hand incautiously trailed in the water; they mutilate swimmers—in every river town in Paraguay there are men who have been thus mutilated; they will rend and devour alive any wounded man or beast; for blood in the water excites them to madness. They will tear wounded wild fowl to pieces; and bite off the tails of big fish as they grow exhausted when fighting after being hooked ...... The head with its short muzzle, staring malignant eyes, and gaping, cruelly armed jaws, is the embodiment of evil ferocity; and the actions of the fish exactly match its looks." 

This is the classic piranha of legend. We were a little disappointed to learn that this is not the case, but like all good myths, it has some basis in reality. We were informed that they won't attack a cow or bite off a finger (although it's not totally unknown). They mostly eat other fish and they don't hunt in packs, but rather swim in schools for protection, like sardines. They are ugly little critters, and we were only fishing for the smaller variety (about 5 inches long). Their teeth are razor sharp and jut out in a fierce-looking underbite. 

Our fishing took place in the shallows, near the bank. Our bamboo rods were baited with small chunks of meat, and within split seconds of it being lowered into the water, there was a flurry of excitement under the water, and the hook comes back up empty. So quick are these fish to polish off the meat that you must jerk the line up to hook the fish virtually as soon as it enters the water, otherwise you will be rebaiting the line again (and again). This was the behaviour one expects of the vicious Amazon piranha, and we weren't disappointed!

The good news is that there are hundreds of piranhas in a few square metres of water, so you will not take long to hook your first. If you had the right technique, you could basically catch a piranha every 20 seconds. Louise was first on the boat to get a catch and David caught up later, eventually getting 10 to 12 fish. The smaller ones were thrown back and the larger ones were taken home to be cooked or made into soup that evening. Sonia was a little vigorous in jerking back her line a few times, and Rudolf got a few piranhas in the face. A bite from one of them, small enough as they were, would cause a nasty gash.

The other watery predator in the region is the caiman, which is a smaller version of the crocodile. We headed out on a nighttime excursion to find, capture and investigate the caiman up close. We set out on the boat with our guides hunting down the caimans along the banks by shining torches into their eyes to catch the reflection. Eventually our guide somehow spotted a mid-sized one on the bank, and actually jumped out, sneaked towards the caiman from behind, and eventually pounced upon it, pinning its jaws closed and grabbing it around the neck, narrowly avoiding a nasty reflexive bite in the process. He tied up the jaws and brought it to the boat for us to touch and get a closer look. While it was a smaller specimen, the guy caught it in the dark with his bare hands, so we were suitably impressed!

Our next close encounter with nature would require some swimming in the Rio Negro with pink river dolphins. Pink river dolphins are endangered and unlike other dolphins can turn their heads 180 degrees, they have extremely strong tail fins and proportionately larger brains than humans.

With stern instructions not to hold our hands above the water or move our legs too much, in case we're bitten or cut by their dorsal fins, we got into the water. There is a small platform, but if you're not on it the water is 120m deep. The dolphins themselves were happy to be touched as long as they were being fed by the dolphin handler, so we made the most of it and got to touch their extremely soft skin. They swam all around us and, most disconcertingly, below us, but it was an incredible experience. They are so big and strong.

We are extremely lucky to have swam with these endangered dolphins since the laws protecting them are getting stricter and stricter regarding how many people are allowed to do this a week. We were witness to a big fight between the dolphin handler and an environmentalist who fined the hotel for bringing 40 instead of 30 tourists to swim with the dolphins that week. If this keeps happening it will probably become illegal - which is a good thing for the dolphins.

Being from South Africa, we are well used to annoying monkeys who try to steal your food, but the sad news is that our hotel is basically under siege by a troop of brazen, greedy apes, who essentially run riot in the bar and pool area. It all started amusingly enough with small yellow squirrel monkeys frequenting the bar and eating the sugar for the capirinhas but with the arrival of large aggressive capuchin monkeys, there were regular thefts of personal items. One particularly devious squirrel monkey sneaked up behind Rudolf and grabbed his camera bag and wallet, requiring a chase and eventual retrieval by David. Despite all this, Rudolf actually had to discipline a foolish old man who was actually feeding monkeys through the cage around the dining area.

There are plenty of villages on the surrounding rivers populated by caboclos (those of mixed Portuguese and native Indian descent) and we took a long boat ride down the massive Rio Negro to visit one. The Rio Negro at this point is about 23km wide, and at a certain point, you could not see the other side. The village in question was amazingly pristine, colourfully decorated and modern. We soon learned that it had entered the Brazilian equivalent of Extreme Home Makeover the previous year and had won. The TV people came in and redid the whole village with electricity, telephone, schools and computers, and also rebuilt many of the houses and decorated them in gorgeous multicoloured paint. They also built a small guesthouse and restaurant to allow visitors and travelers to stay overnight. It was better than many places we had stayed, and the toilets flushed themselves, unlike the bucket-and-water system in many Bolivian hostels.

It is a local village at heart though, and we saw how they make vulcanized rubber from the sap of the rubber tree in the traditional way, including how they make disturbingly large and thick condoms. They also showed how they make tapioca from a tree whose roots actually contain raw cyanide before being dried, cooked and treated. It was surprisingly delicious, despite the "joke" of cyanide-induced death at disturbingly regular intervals from our guide.

In the rest of South America, all villages have a central square - this being Brazil, they of course have a football field in the centre of the village. Thankfully, the villagers have an agreement with the government not to encroach any further on the jungle, in exchange for a regular doctor service and certain regular payments, so we hope the village will remain in its great jungle setting for the foreseeable future. Sadly, we were informed that seeing a jaguar or anaconda is exceptionally rare, despite the jungle being at an arm's length, but our piranha, caiman and dolphin sightings, along with the amazing birdlife and ape attacks, had been more than enough.

Flying to Rio De Janeiro, we flew for two hours over endless stretches of rainforest, although sadly we could see many strips which had been cleared, and not only at the outskirts. There is still an extraordinary amount of what appears to be unspoiled jungle out there however.

Rio De Janeiro (10 Nov - 13 Nov)

The debate that was to rage between us for the next 3 days was "Which is more beautiful - Cape Town or Rio De Janeiro?". This argument was prompted by Rio's reputation as one of the world's most beautiful cities versus our pride in our own magnificent Cape. It was finally settled by the recent announcement of the new 7 Natural Wonders, with the list including Table Mountain. This contest might not have been impartial, but we still agreed with the outcome.

While Cape Town has Table Mountain, the 12 Apostles and Robben Island, Rio has the harbour with numerous islands, inlets and beaches, all surrounded by distinctive hills and mountains. Pride of place is the Christ the Redeemer statue sitting atop one of the highest peaks in the harbour. From photos, you get the impression of a gargantuan statue dominating Rio. In reality, it can only barely be seen from the city, being so high up. Think of how small the Table Mountain cable car station looks from the city. However, after a nice but crowded train ride to the top through lush Atlantic rainforest, you arrive at the top of the mountain and see the admittedly impressive statue on its plinth, with a full 360 degree view of the harbour and surrounds. 

Although the statue itself is huge and distinctively sculpted, it is the view that makes it what it is. Of course it is jammed with tourists, and the great thing about Table Mountain is that you can wander off and find a secluded place to look out at the surrounding coast and ocean (while being alert for muggings if you really wander too far - admittedly a minus for Cape Town). Still, it's possible to jostle for, and then hog, a spot at the railing and gaze at the Sugar Loaf far below, and the beaches of Ipanema and Copacabana that stretch along the coast. We could see our hotel at the far end of Leblon beach, with the largest favela (township) rising to the hillside just behind it. We would learn more about this later.

Rio also has the unique Sugar Loaf (the postcard view of Rio) which is the mound shaped pinnacle jutting into the Atlantic between the city and Copacabana beach. Just like James Bond did in Moonraker, you can catch two cable cars to the top and enjoy an alternate view of Rio. Infrastructure is top notch, with shiny new restaurants and shops right on top without ruining the view from the bottom. There is more room to wander about on top, but the large tourist complex does mean you don't get much seclusion. However, we embraced it and ordered a round of Antarctica beers (complete with penguin logo) and watch the birds swooping and weaving on the warm currents below us (yes, we were that high).

Having hired a local driver for the day (who spoke what was actually excellent English hidden under an unintelligible Portuguese accent), we were lucky enough to be brought to a great restaurant right at the water in the Urca district (Bar Urca). We waited a little for a table, but were allowed to purchase a couple of large Antarcticas and sit at the water to enjoy the view. The restaurant itself is an institution, with the owner having worked in restaurants in Rio since 1936 and was filled with Rio locals.  We were able to secure a sea view table and throughout enjoyed the excellent food and service.

Having heard that English speakers are rare in Brazil, we were surprised to find that almost everyone we met spoke English to some extent, and many excellently. This was just as well, since our three months of Spanish had not helped in any way with understanding Portuguese. On paper, the languages look similar, but the pronunciation is so radically different that we were totally at a loss. They don't even pronounce most of the consonants, and the vowels are just mixed together into an unintelligible mess. Tick one point for Cape Town.

Thanks to Sonia and Rudolf's generosity, our digs had improved somewhat over our backpacking adventure and the Sheraton hotel in Rio De Janeiro was obviously pure luxury, with a private beach. The most irksome fact for all concerned, however, was the ridiculous policy of charging a significant amount for wi-fi access. Even the cheapest hostel in Bolivia had free wi-fi. Seems to be the standard to charge for everything in a 5 star hotel. Still, not the worst complaint to have about a place!

Leaving the hotel one night, we were coming down from the 16th floor and the door opened at 12 and a bride in full wedding dress got in. This is not what one expects, and we were too unsure if it was an actual bride or some sort of photo shoot or something to actually offer any congratulations. The lifts had been playing up all day, and the lift actually stopped dead with us stuck in a lift with a bride on the way to her wedding. With visions of being stuck in a lift with a panicking bride-to-be, thankfully the lift came back to life and she went off to her wedding (we then saw the waiting cars and photographers).

Rio's huge stretches of beach are of course one of its selling points over Cape Town's small but well-formed Clifton and Camps Bay, since the beaches are kilometers long and the water, while cold, isn't hit by the full force of the Benguela current from Antarctica. They are also well known for the hordes of super-tanned and skimpily-clad beach-goers that throng the beaches every day. 

We walked across the entire length of Ipanema beach one day and saw for ourselves the spectacle that is beach-going in Rio. We saw the best and worst bodies in Brazil on display, sadly with equal disregard for modesty regardless of body type or size. Man or woman, large or small, old or young - small strips of material covering the essentials were all that was necessary. Perhaps it's jealousy at their commendable lack of inhibitions, but sometimes it's best to leave things to the imagination!

Like Cape Town, the beaches are really safe, with many police patrolling the beaches and streets, and there is great infrastructure for the outdoor lifestyle. Running paths are flanked by regular "stretching" stations, and the paths for the less fitness-inclined among us are flanked by regular caipirinha and beer stations. There are deck chairs and umbrellas for rent and rows of beach volleyball nets. Footballs are ubiquitous, and they've even invented a new game whereby they play volleyball with a football, using just the head and feet to keep the ball in the air. Even the young kids in Brazil have more ball skill than the Irish and South African teams put together. The nightlife in the surrounding area is also lively and varied, with an all-you-can-eat barbecue followed by half-head/half-beer draughts called "chopps" making for a memorable evening with our LA saviour Jamie. 

Leaving our hotel on the last night in Rio, we ran into a police cordon around the hotel. The police presence, including military vehicles and helicopters, was more radical than what we had seen to date. Automatic rifle-wielding police were guarding many of the pedestrian routes out of the favela. Upon enquiring, we were told that the favela in the surrounding hillside was going to be invaded that night, and the police were going to "occupy" the favela to take back control from the drug gangs. This was quite a serious operation, and clearly not something that happens every day. They had captured the big cheese from one of the drug gangs the previous week, so clearly there is a huge clampdown prior to the World Cup and Olympics.

Helicopters flew over our hotel the whole night, armoured vehicles roamed the streets around the hotel, and at a bar in Leblon that night we watched the invasion live on TV. Upon trying to head to some of the bars on the outskirts around 12am, we were told that they were closing because of the risk from the invasion. We saw on TV the next day that some of the main gang leaders had been rounded up and carted off and the operation appeared to have been successful.

It might be our national pride talking when we say Cape Town is better or more beautiful, but regardless of this, Rio is such a lively and unique city that we enjoyed every minute and it deserves its rich reputation. We just wish the men would wear proper shorts.

Being off the beaten track for a few weeks is a great way to experience new places, without any prejudice or expectations. We'd done this in northern Argentina, as we had never even heard of any of those places before visiting. Too many times, over-analysis and studying of a prospective travel spot can somewhat diminish the impact felt upon arriving. Those two weeks in northern Argentina were some of the most exciting and memorable of the whole trip because we had no prior expectations and each new sight or experience was all the better for being totally new. However, we were very much looking forward to experiencing two places which we had heard so much about- Buenos Aires and Iguazu Falls - but we made a good effort not to look at too many photos or over investigate before arriving. We can safely say that both were relative mysteries upon arriving, and all the more surprising for this fact!

Iguazu Falls (27-29 October)

Our first foray into the lush, tropical rainforest was to be a short visit to Iguazu Falls, on the border of Brazil and Argentina. It sits in a corner of Argentina that is the far north, many hundreds of kilometers through a (relatively) narrow corridor between Brazil and Paraguay. It's so far out of the way (with airline tickets being prohibitively expensive for us), that we were reluctant to bother, but we were warned, on pain of death, not to miss them, by an ex-pat we met in Cusco, Peru. A mammoth 21 hour bus ride from Cordoba was required to get there, but with the luxurious, fully reclining Argentinian bus seats, the journey was as good as it gets.

The Iguazu Falls are one of the largest waterfalls in the world (always depending on the method of measuring), and stretch in a 3km-wide curtain across a stretch of the Iguazu river. Our first view was reached by a 1.5km walk across a wooden walkway through the river to the largest waterfall, which is an 80m high horseshoe-shaped set of falls, which all crash together into a chasm called the Devil's Throat (a common name for any circular natural feature in Latin America). While not being as high, loud or wet as Victoria Falls, it is nevertheless an impressive spectacle. More amazing was the myriad of butterfly specimens which flutter about on the river, some with the number 88 seemingly written on their wings.

The best viewpoint, however, is on the far side of the falls, where you can get a great view of the expanse of falls, all the time surrounded by dense jungle, with monkeys, tropical birds and strange rodent-like creatures. Isolated streams seem to pop out of nowhere and plummet over a cliff to rejoin the river below. It is possible to walk right to the edge of the main stream of water, and it is bizarre to watch the water meander slowly to the edge then plunge 80m to the mists below.

Sadly, the main island was closed because of the high river level, and it would have been possible to walk pretty much underneath the main falls. However, we were able to take a boat ride out into the river and underneath the falls themselves. The power of the water underneath the falls was scarily impressive. Our boat was filled with Argentinian students who screamed at every possible moment and chanted for us to get soaked over and over again. That particular aspect is somewhat reminiscent of a Disneyland water park (if we were to be slightly unfair to one of the world's natural wonders). Being experienced in the misery of being soaking wet for a whole day on the Inca Trail, we had safely wrapped up our clothes and worn the bare essentials in the boat, so were happy to be drenched and then change into nice dry clothes.

The infrastructure at the falls is very impressive, with a light railway to take you between the gate and the various parts of the falls. Clearly this tourist attraction is one of the most important and profitable in the whole of South America, despite its remoteness, which we were very surprised about.

The town itself has many good restaurants and several great hostels,  with ours having a cocktail bar and full parilla/braai/barbeque later that night. We met a troupe of Americans of mixed home states and backgrounds, and had a very interesting discussion on the US and its reputation abroad. We got the feeling that they discuss this on a regular basis, but they didn't seem tired of both defending and condemning the US, its policies and government. As the night got later, the theories and solutions naturally became more extreme and far-fetched!

We woke the next morning to semi-darkness and downpour which the word "torrential" does not aptly describe. The hostel's lower rooms were flooded to the bottom of the bunkbeds within minutes and David's shoes, having been left outside to dry because they were "slightly damp" from the  waterfalls, were now quite a bit damper. The power was out and the town was too far to walk to, so there was a sorry bunch of travelers hanging around waiting for everything to dry out. Still, you actually get to forget your phone, iPad and other options and just chat to the other people - I guess just like in pre-Internet days (or so they say). Some brave adventurers wearing only swimming trunks even dusted off a strange game called Chess. Amazing what lack of internet will bring out in people.

San Telmo (Buenos Aires) and Uruguay (30 Oct - 2 Nov)

Having heard that the ride from the airport into the city of Buenos Aires gives a very poor impression of the so-called "Paris of South America", it is perhaps best that the ride from the Retiro bus station of the cute barrio of San Telmo brought us through wide streets, surrounded by skyscrapers and broad parklands. The district of San Telmo has quaint cobbled streets and a wealth of restaurants and antique stores, with a very European feel. However, the ever-present graffiti and garbage cluttering the streets remind you of where you really are. In the main square, we were treated to a free show of the Buenos Aires special - the tango. It's definitely such a romantic and attractive dance when performed with skill and feeling.

Luckily, on that Sunday we witnessed the antiques and artesenal market in the main square, which stretches through the surrounding streets, with a myriad of strange and impractically-sized souvenirs, none of which would fit into our already bulging backpacks. David has even resorted to carrying a plastic bag with his two ponchos, as there is no way they will fit, since the day pack already only contains the more fragile souvenirs.

The city centre itself is an excellent place to walk around, with plenty of unique and interesting buildings, and a rather strange main square, around which we counted many completely different architectural styles (from colonial through baroque and neo-classical to modern glass skyscrapers). The Pink House (where the newly re-elected President Cristina works) is a rather unusual building, with the traditional pink colour supposedly from the bull's fat (and blood) that was used to waterproof it before modern paints

The main avenue, 9 de Julio, is one of the widest in the world, being at least 80m or more in width, with probably 20 traffic lanes, and featuring an obelisk in the centre - which is the symbol of Buenos Aires for many Argentinians. On top of one of the buildings, completely out of sight unless you look for it, is a perfectly formed house, complete with old-style chimney. It was supposedly built by a man who wanted his country house moved to the city, which was then placed 8 stories up on top of his offices on the main street.

The city's old docklands have experienced a revival similar to Dublin or London, and the old warehouses now contain many expensive restaurants and cinemas, towering glass offices blocks, a modern suspension bridge as well as a university. Walking there, one feels like you are back in a modern European city again.

The other main streets in the city do feel very European as well, with the mix of 18th and 19th century buildings along with sad 70s concrete blocks, but the ubiquitous graffiti, daily protests and manic driving styles are uniquely Argentinian. Old broken down Ford Falcons also litter the streets, looking like part abandoned wreck and part street decoration. There were reminders of Evita and the Peronist government at many intervals, not always with love and respect.

TripAdvisor's website comes into its own in a city like Buenos Aires, and we found some excellent eateries and drinkeries, specifically a place called Territoria, selling huge gourmet sandwiches and tasty artesenal beers from Patagonia, much to David's delight, given the heavily carbonated mass produced beer consumed since arriving in South America. We had been told about another craft beer place but having found it, and seen through the window, we could not for the life of us find the entrance. There were several locations in Buenos Aires where we saw a happening place through the window, but could find no door or entrance. Clearly we were not in the know!

It's a well-known fact that Buenos Aires nightlife only kicks off around 10pm for dinner and 2am for clubs, and we tried to extend our eating hours to a more Argentinian timeline, thanks to regular snacks. However, we were caught unawares by hunger several times, and resorted to having the worst empanadas in the Southern Hemisphere (we would have hugged our nasty empanada waitress from Cafayate if we she had rescued us from them) as well as the vilest pizza ever eaten by a human. It would have been better if we had gone to bed hungry rather than eat that rubbery pizza.

A tip taken the old fashioned way (from people we met who have been there) brought us to an unknown gem of a venue, situated in an old warehouse complex in a grotty side of town. The queue quickly stretches around the block, although the kids selling cold beers on the street made it all more tolerable. The interior of the place is a perfect example of how to convert an industrial site into a great funky entertainment venue. We sat in the "chill" area and purchased the local speciality of Fernet and Coke. It appears to be the equivalent of the South African "delicacy" of brandy and Coke, and is drunk by the litre.

The entertainment in question was called La Bomba Del Tiempo, and at its basic level is a drum circle, which is generally fairly boring to listen to after a while, but the real joy was in watching how the director/conductor brings the rhythm out. The group of 16 drummers is split into various sections of three or four drummers, each of which has a different instrument (bongo, snare, timpani etc.). The director has many different hand signals to show the various sections what to do, but you can watch the different sections as one guy thinks up a particular beat or embellishment, which is then followed by the others in the section. The director then takes this new beat and brings other sections in and out as he sees fit, and can signal the entire group to accent particular beats to a powerful effect.

The result is a constantly changing and flowing rhythm, which is held together by the director. It's boring to listen to, but fascinating to watch. The amazing venue adds to the eclectic vibe, which has one of the strangest and most varied crowds we have seen in a long time.

The smaller South American country of Uruguay lies just over the estuary of the River Plate, and it is a unique experience to be able to take a day-trip on the ferry to another country. The Uruguayan city in question is called Colonia del Sacramento and it is certainly a very charming colonial-style maritime town. The centre of town has some gorgeous plazas and cute old buildings, with big old cars rusting on the streets. There was even an American film crew making a movie in the plaza.

Sadly the whole experience cost an absolute fortune, with the ferry tickets being pricy, but the worst was the insane prices charged in the restaurants and shops. A tea and 2 coffees cost us $25 US, and due to our currency calculation mix-up, we spent a crazy amount on a parilla barbeque lunch. Once we found it out the actual conversion rate, we didn't had the heart to reconvert as it would have been too discouraging. 

The debacle of the barbeque lunch was notable for being a noble attempt by David to try the mixed meat platter found all across Argentina. Despite remembering something about certain offal being part of the platter, and not understanding the Spanish menu, it was ordered as an experiment. However, it consisted of steak and sausage (all ok so far), along with blood sausage (hmmm) and what appeared to be intestines and some form of kidney or other organ (will not eat on the principle that there is no need to eat organs given the plethora of non-organ meat available). It was hoped that the blood sausage would be similar to black pudding, a tasty Irish specialty, but sadly it was a squishy, bad-tasting mess. However, we did salvage it by having a great parilla with real meat later on in Buenos Aires.

In Colonia, we discovered for ourselves the Argentinian and Uruguayan habit of drinking maté tea during the afternoon. All through Argentina we saw people stopping with a thermos flask to make themselves a drink of tea in a strangely ornate gourd filled with tea leaves, over which they pour the hot water. They then pass the gourd around with a metal straw through which you drink the maté-infused water. It's a ridiculously elaborate and old fashioned ritual that virtually all Buenos Aires-ians (the correct term is Porteños apparently) partake of daily. However, having tried it, there is something socially-involving and entertaining about the whole thing, and we did enjoy it, despite the tea being extremely bitter. With this ritual, however there is no such thing as a "quick tea break", as it takes a good 20 minutes for two people to drink the equivalent of two cups of tea. Productivity in Argentinan offices is surely the envy of the rest of the world.

Palermo, Buenos Aires (2-6 Nov)

Louise's parents, Sonia and Rudolf, were joining us for a few days in Buenos Aires before heading to Brazil together, and we therefore moved to a more upmarket and trendy area on the other side of the city called Palermo. They were the first family we'd seen since departing the day after the wedding three months earlier and it was great to see the familiar faces again! We welcomed them with a bottle of the amazing Gran Linaje wine purchased in Cafayate the previous week on the rooftop of our lovely boutique hotel. We hardly knew ourselves with the luxury of a spa, pool, flat screen TV and minibar. 

The area is also stunning, with so many tree lined streets containing endless bars and restaurants, as well as funky boutique shops and beauty salons. David's favourite was a beer shop - yes, that is a store that only sells artesenal craft beers. The idea is preposterous, but hopefully it will work, although the owner was alarmingly overjoyed to have such eager customers in his shop. Louise was amazed to find a super-cheap beauty salon where she could rectify some of the toll of months of hard living has taken on her body. We learned that plastic surgery is almost the norm in Buenos Aires among the image-conscious middle and upper classes, and in Palermo we saw plenty of good and bad examples of the delicate art of facial reconstructive surgery.

Our eating standards improved significantly with the fresh enthusiasm brought by Sonia and Rudolf, and some excellent steaks and pastas were had, with some more brilliant Bife de Chorizo (sirloin), which was so tender it could be cut with a spoon. Breakfast at our hotel was also remarkable for not being the usual hostel fare of bread and jam, with extravagant fare such as eggs in plentiful supply. 

One of the best meals and evenings was the attendance at a Tango show, which are the Buenos Aires equivalent of Broadway musicals. The tickets were generously arranged by two ex-pat South Africans who are friends of friends of Rudolf and Sonia. We'd met up with them the previous night for yet more excellent steak. The Cafe de Los Angelitos is a stunning venue, and featured an excellent three-course meal, of which David's steak was the tastiest so far in South America. The tango show itself does not have a particular storyline, but features wonderfully varied and spectacular tango dancing. The tango musicians were the stars of the show and at several points the dancing was halted so that we could enjoy the virtuoso performances by the piano and accordion players.

Buenos Aires is divided into very distinct areas, and we visited two polar opposite regions one particular day. The first was the outer area of La Boca, which features rickety old houses which are painted in amazingly bright colours and which is a very charming district, despite the rampant touristy-ness. The image of a pair of tango dancers is a classic Buenos Aires symbol and we were treated to such an exhibition as well (we think they were taking photos for a postcard or travel book, which says it all).

The second district was the distinctly upper class area of Recoletta. This area contains many fancy hotels and designer stores, but more importantly contains many of the important museums in the city, as well as the mind-boggling cemetery on the hill. A cemetery is generally not particularly fascinating, but this is a one-of-a-kind. The whole place is just like a village, with streets of huge mausoleum-type crypts and graves of many wealthy and important families of the city's history. Some are completely extravagant and show delusions of grandeur of the highest order, but it's really fascinating to walk the "streets", sometimes getting a glimpse into the less well-preserved ones. The National Museum of Fine Arts is another nicely-sized art museum, containing many European pieces, and was a nice throwback to the start of our honeymoon when we visited the wonderful Louvre in Paris. 

A fitting end to our Buenos Aires experience was on our last night, when we arrived in the city centre to a street filled with bizarrely and scantily dressed men and women, and signs of some sort of protest making its way towards us. At first we thought it might be some sort of sex worker protest, but they was merely the eager forerunners of what was a massive Gay Pride parade. Needless to say it was an experience for the eyes and ears, and there must have been tens of thousands dancing and marching along the streets. Several were basically completely naked except for a thin covering, although we are sure that one "lady" simply wore a thin layer of glitter.

We left Argentina for the Brazilian rainforest after an amazing three weeks in Argentina, having not expected to spend anywhere near that amount of time there. Soon we would be reaching Brazil, where we would find out how the real jungle is.

Back to civilization...for the most part

A backpacking trip to South America is, by definition, an experiment with the unknown, and one expects few home comforts and trappings of "civilisation". In many ways, the total contrast with home and being outside the comfort zone are the main reasons for such an adventure. After some time of this, however, it is pleasant and surprising to head back to countries where some semblance of "normality" can be found. That's why Chile and Argentina are such a nice change from Peru and Bolivia. However, while more prosperous and organised in comparison, they are still very much South American, and there is a chaotic edge which makes them unique in many ways.

San Pedro de Atacama, Chile (17-18 Oct)

Arriving fresh off the Salt Flats to this town in the middle of the Atacama desert was rather jolting, and while it might not look like much from the outside, its cute mud brick buildings and streets, variety of good restaurants and desert setting makes up for that. A hot shower at our hostel was first on the list, with a chance to scrub up and shave off a week's growth for David. 

Eating at a restaurant, we found that the table had balsamic vinegar and olive oil on the table as well as our first decent wine list since the US. At the second restaurant there were fireplaces everywhere, the decor was rustic but chic and we had a wonderful chicken curry. 

We also did one of the coolest things we've done to date: the S.P.A.C.E. astronomy tour. San Pedro is located at 2400m above sea level and it's in the driest desert on earth. This makes it perfect for star gazing. The tour takes place at 11pm, about 20km into the desert, where about 15 of us gathered in the increasing cold under a clear night sky while a Canadian astronomer gave a great introduction to the constellations and planets that can be seen with the naked eye. Many of the northern hemisphere natives were thrown by the southern hemisphere skies, but Louise was a natural expert having studied the southern constellations for years.

After the manual explanation, we moved on to an array of telescopes, each of which was pointed at a star, galaxy or planet of interest. Best of all was a chance to finally see Jupiter and its moons, as well as several clusters and a nebula. The highlight, though, was after about an hour when many had gotten cold and gone inside. Over the horizon, we caught a glimpse of the waning moon, which came up surprisingly fast. We trained the telescope on it, getting a great view of the craters, and we even managed to take a photo, thanks to the assistance of one of the other astronomers there.

After this, we returned inside to a mug of hot chocolate, where we had an intriguing Q&A with two of the astronomers, one French and one Canadian, who amusingly contradicted and interjected with each other's explanations. Our favourite was the discussion on the largest telescopes in the world - the obviously named VLT (Very Large Telescope) and the ridiculously named OWL (Overwhelmingly Large Telescope). 

The plan had been to head further south through Chile, to Santiago, which was a full 24 hour bus ride down through nothingness. However, after talking to some other people and reading some articles, blogs and travel guides we decided to head for northwest Argentina rather than south into Chile. The main reason for this was lack of time and that we would have had to travel very far down in order to cross over into Argentina with relatively little to see on the way (whether this is true or not, we won't be able to tell). 

So, the next morning we took the 12 hour bus over the border to Salta. This trip was much less exciting/bizarre than the border crossing between Peru and Bolivia.

Salta, Argentina (18-20 Oct)

While San Pedro was still very much a desert town built of mud bricks, the arrival at Salta at 9pm that evening was a shock to our systems - wide, clean streets, well-dressed professionals and students, glitzy clothing stores, numerous ATMs and bowtie-wearing waiters at restaurants in the main square. We sat in the square and had a drink and a meal while soaking up the buzzing late-night Argentinian atmosphere. We felt almost giddy being back in such surroundings! To make the change even more prominent, we stayed in a proper hotel with all mod-cons, lightning-fast Internet and a concierge!

While in our giddy state the previous night, we felt Salta must be close to Barcelona or similar European city. However, we realized in the daylight that while it is a pretty colonial-style city, the city centre has got a somewhat grimy feel, and is not glamour capital it seemed to us. However, it is easy to walk around most of it and it feels very safe. We needed a bit of a rest at this point and it was very nice to sit in the square, have a drink and not worry about anything. The city has quite a few shopping streets as well as a covered market where we ate stupidly cheap food and David bought (another) poncho. 

One of the nicest areas of Salta is ten blocks out of town on Balcarce street, where we found an area somewhat similar to Parkhurst, with a string of restaurants and bars. Heading out at 7pm, we realised how ridiculously early we were. We were to discover that only tourists go out for dinner before 10pm in Argentina. Grabbing a drink at Cafe del Tiempo (we were the only ones there, even though it's a popular place), we first tasted the Argentinian speciality called the empanada, which is a small pastry filled with meat or cheese, and is a great way to stave off hunger until a decent hour.

Finally at 9:15 we were ready to eat and thought that surely there would be someone out and about. At the well-rated Jose Balcarce restaurant, we saw that they at least had people inside, but upon entering we were greeted in English by the staff, and then realised that the other patrons were also tourists. Clearly we would have to revise our mealtimes further. 

Cafayate (20-22 Oct)

We didn't know this when we decided to go, but the area around Salta contains plenty of small wineries, cute towns, beautiful scenic drives as well as Inca and pre-Inca ruins. Northwest Argentina is famous for its wine (although having a much smaller production than the main wine areas around Mendoza further south). Much of this production is centered around the town of Cafayate, which is about 120kms south of Salta. Obviously one could get a bus tour to visit, but knowing the joy of exploring towns Iike Stellenbosch in your own time, we just had to rent a car to explore the area.

The road intersections in Salta operate strangely, with no traffic lights, yield signs or stop signals to advise on who has right-of-way. It seems like a free-for-all on many occasions. Pedestrians are even further down the pecking order, with no observance of pelican/zebra crossings. In fact, one driver told us that if pedestrians use these, they simply make themselves objects for target practice. We decided to ask the car rental agent for clarification:

David: I'm curious, how do the 'stop streets' work here?
Budget car guy: They don't.
David: But...
Budget car guy: People drive like animals here. Just stop. Always stop.

The tactic, therefore, seems to be to keep going unless there is a car coming that will hit you either faster or harder than you would hit it. Accordingly, moving traffic or bigger traffic has right-of-way. After a while you do get the hang of it, in a strange way. If you're in a hurry, it's great!

The drive to Cafayate is simply stunning - a total surprise to us who knew nothing of the region. It takes you through a canyon cut by a river, but even more importantly, as you head further south, the sandstone rock formations become more and more bizarre, with features such as the Devil's Throat and the Amphitheatre well worth pulling off the road for.

However, that was just an opening act for one of the cutest towns we had yet experienced since leaving France, and we were so glad we had the car and an overnight stay so that we could soak up the atmosphere. In fact, we booked a second night after a few hours.

Cafayate has the same feel as Stellenbosch, with jagged mountains surrounding the sprawling vineyards, along with leafy streets, cute stores and classy restaurants. However, this being South America, there were roaming wild dogs, unpaved roads once off the main streets and dodgy bars with groups of men sitting drinking litre beers while having barbecued steak  (although that is not far from many South African towns).

Obviously, wine was first on the list. The wine tastings for many of the vineyards are actually in the town, and are free or close to free, unlike in the US. Torrentes is the famous white wine grape from Argentina and the region is famous for it. Malbec is the Argentinian red wine grape, more popular in Mendoza, but we did try some good ones. We tasted some great white wine at Nanni, and especially at the largest winery, slightly out of town, called Bodega Etchart.

Here we managed to get on an hour long tour of the winery, all in Spanish, but which was very interesting nonetheless. We threw in enough "ahhs" and knowing nods at the right points in order to seem like we understood. It culminated in a lengthy tasting, where we were given the best wines they have, of which we thoroughly enjoyed the Gran Linaje, and bought a bottle for later consumption. We would have loved to buy more, as it was delicious, but we did have luggage restrictions to think about. It reminded us of how good a complex white wine can be!

A trip to Cafayate wouldn't be complete without at least one visit to Chato's wine bar. Chato (or Eduardo) is very knowledgeable and is more than willing to chat about wines and the area. The atmosphere is lovely and you are likely to meet other travellers there, otherwise you can just chat to Chato. The tasting might seem overpriced, but the quantities and explanations make up for it. 

We went twice - the first time to taste six wines and the second time to drink two (again different) wines. The tasting is liberal, but the drinking is even better since Chato also recommends the best glasses. Ours were stunning wines.

We got to induldge our taste buds further with Torrentes helado (gelato) at Helado Miranda, which was surprisingly delicious. Another "must-do" was supposedly the Casa de las Empanadas (House of Empanadas), which have the best empanadas in the world. The place is covered with graffiti from many other rabidly happy customers. However, we had the most unfriendly and surly waitress, so the quality of the empanadas is irrelevant when you feel that unwelcome. We actually wanted more to eat after we had eaten our (admittedly delicious) empanadas, but couldn't wait to get out of there. 

We have therefore decided on a no-tolerance approach to bad waitering, especially considering how many other places are vying for your custom. Whenever a waiter ignores us, or fails to bring menus or accept orders after 5 minutes, we will walk out of the restaurant. Even worse, if the waiter just stands there without a word, pen in hand, waiting for us to order, we will also walk out. There is no excuse for it. Simply having this choice is a massive change from Bolivia, where just getting food that doesn't make you ill is a victory!

The best food experience, hands down, was a classic Argentinian steak at El Rancho. We had been earlier in the day for lunch, and had been ignored, so we left (thanks to our new policy), but as we asked around, it had gotten such rave reviews that we had to give it a second chance, and it was totally different that evening. We had such a friendly and courteous waiter, had a nice locally brewed beer and then had what David considers one of the top steaks he has ever eaten. It was the Bife de Chorizo cut, which is a very thick sirloin, but it was perfectly cooked, with a tasty flame grilled exterior and juicy, flavoursome inside. It was also a bargain in terms of price. Louise had a lovely Milanesa - a local favourite similar to a veal schnitzel.

You hear a lot about Argentinian steaks, and thankfully we can say that when South Africa does steak properly, its quality is equal to Argentina's. However, the quantity served, and availability, of good meat in Argentina is unsurpassed. The steaks are big, cheap and available everywhere. In contrast, you have to search out a good steak in South Africa, in places like the Butcher Shop or the Local Grill.

We also hit a parilleria late on the first night in Cafayate with some friends we met at our hostel. A parilleria is a restaurant specializing in barbequed meat. This one was particularly low key, with cheap prices and plenty of locals. We were able to choose our meat and sausages (quite close to boerewors) straight off the barbeque. One of our companions is mortally afraid of dogs (??). While we ate the local stray dogs came sniffing around the table. We got the feeling that the locals don't mind this, but saw how distressed our friend became and tried to shoo them away, but to no avail. Our friend panicked and we had to head back home. However, paying 30 pesos each (about R55) for thick steaks, sausage, chips and beers or wine made it a bargain.

Cachi (22 Oct)

The road between Cafayate and the town of Cachi is about 90 km of gravel road. Route 40 is well known for its stunning scenery. Upon hitting the road, we noticed from the milestones that this road actually goes all the way from the southern tip of Argentina to its very northernmost point - well over 4,000 km. An hour in, where the road was just beginning to get interesting, we realized to our consternation that our penguin companion was still in bed at the hostel. Since we had already hit the road late, and were rushing to make back time, it was really frustrating to have to turn around and head back along the dirt road again, but thankfully it was worth it as the penguin had been woken up by the maid and was safe and sound.

The road was quite remarkable, with rock formations and cute towns and villages dotting the route. Here we got a chance to see rural Argentina, and many parts are indeed not a far cry from the likes of Peru or Chile. In addition, we were overjoyed to be at lower altitude for a change (even though Salta is still around Johannesburg's height above sea level). We had had enough of struggling to breathe...

The town of Cachi is definitely the cuter town on the route, while not having the same charm as Cafayate. We stayed in a hilltop hotel (breaking the bank for the occasion as it was kind of our 3 month wedding anniversary), and took our time to relax. We were also finally in a more decent time zone which meant that David could wake up at 6am to watch the rugby World Cup Final. Sadly, he also saw Man Utd losing 6-1 to Manchester City, and he was thankful that we were out of Internet and newspaper contact for a while. 

Tilcara (23 Oct)

An area thoroughly recommended by guide books was the area around Humahuaca, in the north of the province, aptly described by Frommer's as "perilously close to Bolivia". The whole area is a UNESCO World Heritage site due to the amazing mountains with the different rock layers providing different colours, the Incan ruins and the small villages. Here we did get close to a Bolivian feel, and the remarkable journey on the road from Cachi to the village of Tilcara (a 6 hour odyssey) let us know that we were back in the real South America. Firstly we made our way through an amazing semi-arid plain, covered with massive cacti, in beautiful sunshine. It was a classic way to leave the lower lands of Argentina. 

As we climbed higher over the mountain pass, the fog set in quickly and thickly, and soon we couldn't see further than 3 meters in front of us. This was all fine until we reached the top of the pass (3600m) and had to descend for 1,000m vertically on a treacherous winding road, which wound back and forth over the mountainside for about an hour, with perilous drops through the fog to an unknown depth. It was slow going, and the levels of concentration were hard to maintain.

This is a Google satellite view of the road.

As the road flattened out, things became easier, but we were soon to pass through the mountains on the northern side of Salta on an equally treacherous road, but not because of fog... This road is really just wide enough for a single car, but they have painted a line down the middle so that is appears to be a two-lane road. As we had read in another blog, "painting a line down the middle of a road does not automatically make it wide enough for two cars". This road twisted and turned its way across a cliff for for another hour, and thankfully the number of oncoming cars was minimal, with many blind turns in which any other car would have caused a serious problem.

After finally getting out of this, we hit a nice wide road north of San Salvador de Jujuy. Here, we really got close to Bolivia, and there were several occasions where we had a climbing lane on our side of the road, however, this was rendered useless by trucks and cars coming downhill using it for their own overtaking lane. We got flashed and hooted at for daring to use the lane for its actual purpose - allowing the uphill traffic to overtake.

The mud brick village of Tilcara was rather a disappointment after the beauty of Cafayate, but this may be because of the epic journey we faced in getting there. The fact that it was the presidential election day and there were crowds everywhere queuing, with election leaflets blowing around everywhere (plus we couldn't buy wine or beer until 8pm) and the fact that our hostel was not at all pleasant, might have influenced our perception slightly. However, we did have a good meal in town later that night, and the ruins on the hillside the next morning were interesting enough, so perhaps it was just a case of trying to do too much in too little time.

The village of Purmamarca, which we visited the next day, did seem  more pleasant and it is stunningly located, surrounded by mountains with many different colours in the rock strata. The mountain is in fact called the Hill of Seven Colours' and as another blogger said: "We like things that are appropriately named". In fact, the ruins we visited in Tilcara that morning were built from these different coloured rocks and they are quite fascinating. 

All of these villages seem to have a standard format though, with the main plaza and church in the centre, surrounded by craft sellers and restaurants, while the outskirts are dirt roads and less appealing. Maybe we had seen too many cute colonial towns up until then!

At this point, we had no idea how we were getting to Buenos Aires to meet up with Rudolf and Sonia on 2 November, and we were still unsure about our route to take in Iguazu Falls without having to travel ridiculous distances in a short period of time. However, flights are horrendously expensive in Argentina, with foreigners being charged much more than Argentinians. We were to learn that, while Argentina is very developed in many ways, it is still crippled by ineffective and corrupt government officials, crazy policies such as this and many other ridiculous situatons that Argentinians are forced to accept. 

It was interesting being in the country while the presidential election was going on - especially traveling across the country - as we saw so many posters, slogans, murals and graffiti supporting "Cristina 2011". Cristina Kirchner is the incumbent president, and the wife of the previous president. There is very much the sense of a personality cult around her. However, many of the more enlightened locals seemed to think that she and her cronies are doing nothing to help Argentina get back its feet to become a first world economy. There seems to be a lot of corruption and uncompetitive and inefficient behaviour in the state enterprises (ring any bells?). Needless to say, Cristina was elected in a landslide. Not surprising, since we had no idea who else was running, given the monopoly on advertising from Cristina.

Anyway, we finally chose the route of Salta - Cordoba - Iguazu Falls - Buenos Aires. This would mean many long distance buses, at a very high cost, but it was the only way to make our way aross this vast country.

Cordoba (25-27 Oct)

Cordoba is Argentina's second largest city, and is a very attractive and buzzing town, with many universities, Jesuit buildings and good restaurants. However, Argentina's cities seemed to have lost a lot of their original colonial architecture, which have been replaced with more modern (but sadly also 60's and 70's) buildings. We stayed right in the centre of town for a change and got to explore the great churches and remaining colonial buildings. Even better was the newer part of town to the south, which has grander boulevards, parks and trendy art districts and museums. Quite a few of the new trendy restaurant/bar/art centers could easily fit in in Johannesburg, and we were reminded of all the nice places we will be able to go when we get back home!

They also have a really interesting memorial for the Bicentennial of Independence which was in 2010. There is a large series of coloured rings, each with a year from 1810 to 2010, and a brief description of the main event in Argentinian history that year. We found our birth years and David's was, of course, the Falklands War. Louise's was the end of the previous military dictatorship. Sadly, the rings are being covered with grafitti, which is the way with most public artworks, but we really thought it was a great idea. It is much better than their other Bicentennial commemorative structure, which is the world's further inland lighthouse. What a pointless idea.

With 200,000 students in Cordoba, the student nightlife streets were really busy. Quite a few people were out in force supporting Boca Juniors (the Buenos Aires team) as they played that night and the rest were just out having fun. We had a few drinks in a Scottish pub. It had been exactly 3 months since we had left Johannesburg and exactly one month to go before we get home, so we had something to celebrate!

There are plenty of great museums in Cordoba, and it is sad that we did not visit more, but Louise saw one of the good modern art museums, while David visited a former detention block in use during the "Dirty War" waged by the military dictatorships of the 1970s and 1980s on any dissidents or anti-government protesters. Thousands disappeared and died at this time and it is a very sad and alarmingly recent phase of Argentinian history. They have converted the detention area into a museum and you can still see the names and dates etched into the walls of some of the cells.

We also took a day trip with a Swiss couple from our "hotel" to several ruins and villages in the surrounding valley. The Jesuit order were very active in Cordoba, and several of their haciendas form another UNESCO World Heritage Site. Alta Gracia was a large hacienda on which they grew crops and farmed, using both slave and native labour. It's still well preserved and it was remarkable to see that they actually had a proper plumbing system, with the toilets all connected to the nearby river for flushing. This is apparently the first instance of an inside toilet - something which would only appear in Europe a century later.

We also managed to head to the Che Guevara musuem - he was born in Argentina and grew up in a town outside Cordoba. His old family home has been converted into a museum to his early life. It's really interesting, and we need to learn more about him. There were photos of Fidel Castro and Hugo Chavez visiting the opening of the museum 10 years before, and it's weird to think of countries actually allowing entry to people like this, whereas the 'western' world would most likely never allow it.

The other interesting sight was the village of General Belgrano. This is a town with many German, Austrian and Swiss immigrants, and the whole places is set up to be just like a German town with alpine-style buildings, Oktoberfest (which we just missed) and plenty of beer brewing. Of course it's tacky, but we think just the right amount, and the various shops and restaurants are very nicely designed and decorated. David was able to buy three new types of beer brewed locally, and could have bought many more, if only we had any luggage space left.

Our tour guide was a man who looked like he had walked straight off the boat from Scandinavia, with very blonde hair and blue eyes, but he was very much Argentinian. We learned a lot from him about the history and the immigrant populations of Argentina, with Italians, Germans and Jews being very well represented along with the Spanish. Argentina really seems to have been the USA of South America in terms of the melting pot, but the immigrants to Argentina very much assimilated, and don't carry on their own cultures or languages like they do in the US. They are all Argentinians now, which we think is admirable.

It was a really interesting and unusual experience in a part of the world that we had never expected to spend any time in. Things were about to get back to the path more travelled, as we boarded a 21-hour bus to Iguazu Falls, and from there on to Buenos Aires and a rendezvous with Rudolf and Sonia.

South America has always sounded like the big unknown - strange cultures, unusual experiences and vast, vast spaces. The last few days in Peru and our time in Bolivia were by far the most random, weird, fascinating and exhausting time of our trip.

Puno and Lake Titicaca 9 Oct - 12

The 9 hour bus from Cusco to Puno takes you to a little town, to Inca ruins, to a pass that climbs up to 4600m above sea level, to lunch, to pre Inca ruins and eventually to Puno city, on the shores of Lake Titicaca. The bus service in South America is amazing, this one having a buffet dinner and coca tea being offered every few hours. But being really tired and stiff from the Inca trail and having seen so many Inca ruins already, we were perhaps not in the best frame of mind, although the land and scenery were of course totally new to us and very unique.

The only reason people to go the unattractive Puno is so that they can explore nearby Lake Titicaca - and we could quickly see why. It is another 500m higher than Cusco and the first night Louise could really feel the effects of the altitude. Drinking coca tea and buying altitude sickness pills was all we could do. Our experience with Lake Titicaca was in the form of a two day/one night boat trip. Lake Titicaca is the highest navigable lake in the world, borders both Peru and Bolivia and it has many islands where people have lived for thousands of years.

The first stop was the floating Uros islands. About 600 years ago, the people of this land fled from the Incas on boats onto the lake. They started to tie their rafts together and live on them. But then they made a brilliant discovery: that the roots of the reeds actually float, so they started making islands for themselves. There are now over 40 islands on the Peruvian side of the lake, and 2000 people living in this bizarre way. They build whole little villages with communities where they still catch fish and hunt birds as a means of surviving. Of course, some of them now only do it for tourists' sakes, but some still live like this. There are even primary schools, shops, a gas station and a seventh Adventist day church on the islands. It's bizarre.

There are two large islands on the Peruvian side of the lake, and we were to stay the night on one of them - Amantani. The people who live there still very much stick to the old ways, but now with the tourist boom, they are also taking part. Once a month each, the local participating families get a couple of tourists to stay overnight with them. Once we landed on the island (after the slowest motorboat ride ever), we were greeted by the local women, all in traditional dress, and we were "allocated" to the family that we were going to stay with for the night. We were the last ones to be paired up and we were introduced to a very small, elderly woman called Dionicia. Obviously she spoke no English, and we have already acknowledged our limited Spanish. Her native language is Quechua, so communication was going to be a problem!

Silently, she led us up the hills, across fields through herds of sheep to what seemed like the furthest, and most difficult to reach, house of all. We were panting as we climbed up the hill. To our surprise, however, our room was spacious, with a comfortable bed and plenty of blankets for the cold nights at altitude. Once we found our way to the kitchen for lunch, we sat and watched as Dionicia cooked us lunch over the open fire with her pots and pans.

We did attempt some conversation in Spanish, asking about her kids (which she managed to send to college in Puno - perhaps from the tourist money), husband etc. It was here that we really wished we had done that Spanish course that we had said we would do before leaving, as we couldn't really carry on a proper conversation. I'm sure she is used to it, so the loss was really on our side, as I'm sure we could have listened to some really interesting stories about her, the family, the island and their lives. We met her husband Hipolito later as well, who tried very hard to make conversation in Spanish, which we also attempted to answer, but our skills were found lacking. However it was very interesting and they are a very hospitable family.

Lunch consisted of delicious quinoa soup and then two boiled black potatoes and about ten sweet potato-like carrots. There was no sauce and it was quite difficult to get it all down, but we couldn't really have bad manners, so we tried our best, like good guests! The delicious Munya herbal tea was a great digestive though.

The local football field is the centre of the island's social life, where David played more football at altitude - this time not against Inca Trail porters, but some local kids, tour guides and some Italians and French tourists Thankfully the opposition was much less experienced than the previous football match, and David managed to earn the nickname 'Killer' from the locals for scoring four goals in the game.

Climbing too the top of the large hill in the island's centre, we could see the ceremonial area that they use for summer solstice celebrations, and got a great view of the lake and the surrounds. Strangely, we met a couple at the top who had been on the Inca Trail with us, Ben and Line, who were staying in a different family through another tour company, and who also confessed to similar communication difficulties with their family, which made us feel a bit better.

After Dionicia cooked dinner (soup followed by rice, potatoes and carrots), we were provided with local dress. Louise had to wear a very elaborate blouse/skirt/shawl combination over her hiking pants and boots while David got a simpler poncho. We took advantage of a break in the rain storm to run to the local community centre, where there was to be a "fiesta", where we would dance and socialize with the rest of the village. Due to the rain, attendance was low, but we did have a beer (and a Coca Cola for Dionicia) and local musicians played while Dionicia dutifully showed us the various dances that we were to learn. The dances did all seem very similar, but they were trying to keep it simple for us, I suppose. David tried to dance one-to-one with Dionicia, despite being at least 2 feet taller than her, but they both managed admirably! Louise was a more equally sized partner, although still much taller!

It was definitely a random and interesting experience, we just wished we were able to communicate better, as we would have enjoyed talking with them properly.

Regardless, we left the next day for the neighboring island of Taquile, and climbed up the hill to the town square. There was a great view of the lake, and the farming terraces in the surrounding hillside. There is a very Mediterranean/Greek feel to the whole island, and we had lunch at a stunningly located restaurant on the hillside. The whole island is run as a commune, with the various restaurants taking turns to open and shut on different weeks and all tourist profits being shared.

Back in Puno that night, we ran into Ben and Line again, and had some dinner and Pisco Sours and watched Peru and Chile play a thrilling football match, with Peru sadly losing 4-2. This did not dampen the town's spirits too much though and we had a lovely evening.

Bolivia - 12-17 October

Bolivia was by far the strangest, most random and least developed country that we have seen so far. Things started on odd footing with our bus trip from Puno to the capital city La Paz, which in theory is only a few hundred kilometers...

Once we hit the border, we all had to leave the bus and firstly get stamped out of Peru, then walk over the border to Bolivia and get further stamps. Having perfectly estimated the amount of Peruvian money required we would need before leaving Peru, this meant we had no money to change at the border into Bolivianos. Not a problem if we could just hit the ATM - however, there was not an ATM or bank in sight of course. We were to learn that cash talks in Bolivia and credit cards don't mean anything. Even large denomination bills of local currency are frequently refused because the shops don't have change.

Once we got back on the bus, we were greeting by a local official, informing us that we had to pay one Boliviano (less than one Rand) to the local government. Our empty pockets were just met with a shrug and he moved on to the next people. Clearly an opportunistic tax, not an official policy. We had to change buses again at the next town of Copacabana, where we had time to buy a sandwich at a shop whose advertised selling point for us was the catchy slogan "Sand wich more fast for you travel". It was an odd sandwich made by a small woman in a tiny kitchen over a gas frier, but delicious enough to make us ignore the warnings about not eating salads or anything cooked in local tap water.

We thought once we got onto the bus that it was next stop La Paz. Unfortunately, Lake Titicaca got in the way, this time because there is no bridge. This meant we all had to switch to a very small motorboat which brought us over the lake. Then we waited while our bus was loaded onto a barge, powered by a tiny outboard engine, and the bus was ferried across. It's a thoroughly ridiculous sight!

La Paz

Arriving to La Paz at peak rush hour, the bus sat in traffic for a good hour, while minibus taxis bullied and forced their way across various lanes of traffic (not always their own), while everyone honked their horns and generally did nothing to help the situation. This sort of business is usual for South Africans, but still the South Americans have a very aggressive style of driving which doesn't help anyone to get anywhere faster. It did seem like arriving in the middle of Johannesburg city centre, with twice as much chaos, and no prospect of heading to a cozy Sandton hotel or Parkhurst restaurant.

Eventually we got to the bus station, and the taxi driver that we asked to bring us to the hostel said not to bother, and that it was close enough to walk. We thought this was a great idea, but after 20 minutes of getting no closer, we flagged down a taxi, only to wait in it for half an hour in traffic. Clearly the first taxi driver knew better than to accept a fare to the city centre in rush hour.

La Paz itself is busy, dirty, chaotic and at very high altitude, but it actually grew on us. It was refreshing, after all of the tourist-centered towns, to be in a city with people actually going about their business and living their lives. Plus Bolivia is one of the cheapest countries going. We hit the main markets in town, and picked up great souvenirs, and some supplies like camera memory cards at ridiculous prices. We passed the Witches Market, where dried llama foetuses are for sale as good luck charms. A llama foetus is about 30 cm long, by the way, and is not very nice to look at. We tried to buy some clothes in the fake clothing market, but David was told in an off hand way that a particular jacket was "no para usted" (not for you). We are not sure if the woman felt it was not his particular style, she didn't have his size or she didn't want to sell it to him. Still it was a great way to spend a day. We then headed to a backpacker English bar (because they had wi-fi), and finished our Machu Picchu blog (it doesn't write itself!).

We were living one day at a time at this point, with no idea how to get to our next rendezvous (Buenos Aires on 2 November). A lucky stop at a tour company meant we bought a plane ticket to Uyuni in southern Bolivia for the next morning for a bargain price of around R400. This saved us a 12 hour bus journey at night in the freezing cold on untarred roads (we later learned from others who had taken it). The plane option was not mentioned in the book that all backpackers seem to have : "Lonely Planet South America on a Shoestring", and we soon learned why...

Arriving at La Paz's military airport at 6am (yes, we were flying with the military airline), we queued behind all the other backpackers, and then to our distress, they all got on a plane to a different city in the north. We were then led along with 5 other people to a miniature propellor plane, where we sat in a 12 seated aircraft. Not a single other tourist was to be seen on the plane - they all seemed to be local businessmen. While an hour late, with non-military precision, the plane was taxiing down the runway, when we noticed the captain was talking in his cellphone (yes, the plane is that small that we could see into the cockpit). Thankfully, as he pulled down on the power lever, he was good enough to stop his phone conversation.

The little plane crawled into the sky, and we were still wondering if we were going to a different Uyuni. The one we wanted is famous for its salt flats and volcanic activity. Thankfully, near the end of our one hour flight, we saw the expanse of the salt flats beside us and we were on the right track! We also got a nice weird snack. As we landed in the airport, we were met by the local army who took our bags. The airport was clearly so new that they were still building part of the arrivals hall. Unsure how to get into town, we grabbed the first taxi we saw, and accepted the monumentally rip-off price of 25 Bolivianos. Our suspicions were confirmed, as the driver stopper to pick up another local passenger, who paid the sum of 5 Bolivianos for the same trip as ours. We were just happy to be in town though, and didn't mind! The flight, while odd, was definitely worth it because Ben and Line, whom we met again in Uyuni, shared stories of ice on the inside of the 12 hour overnight bus that they took.

We had the "bonus" of a whole day free in Uyuni while waiting to get our Salt Flat tour the next morning. The town itself has no redeeming features, and the altitude and cold is even more acute. We took to chewing coca leaves all day, and bought an enormously sized bag from the local market for about R5, since the man didn't have smaller bags - clearly it is where you go for bulk coca purchases.

We took it easy, playing cards and having a few drinks. We managed to get the only good pizza we had in South America, but we paid the price by being in the oddest restaurant on the continent.The place was run by children, literally. The waiter was about 12, the cleaning staff were clearly his younger brothers, and we ordered some Chilean wine from a 10 year old. The only other people in the place were a solitary Belgian woman, and a Japanese guy of about 20, who was actually crying over his pasta, sobbing the whole time. I guess he was traveling by himself and the altitude combined with solitude got to him eventually.

The Uyuni Salt Flats are the real reason to go to the town. The usual tour is a 3 day, 2 night tour through the flats in a Land Cruiser, into the volcanic region, ending up in Chile. You stay overnight at lodgings along the way, and all meals are provided. However, we had heard horror stories about the tour companies from Uyuni who cut corners to bring prices down, from stuffing an extra body on board by removing the cook - meaning terrible food cooked by the driver - to broken-down vehicles, drunken drivers and atrocious accommodation. Thankfully, we did our research, and the company we chose (Oasis Tours) was logistically perfect, while unfortunately our guide was not.

We met up with Ben and Line again, and shared the tour with them, picking up a pair of Germans (Carsten and Julia) to share the ride with us. Thankfully Carsten spoke Spanish and was great at translating the few things that our guide actually told us (he spoke no English). We first stopped at the Train Cemetery, which is a place that old steam locomotives have been left to rust in the desert. It was very odd to see the old steam trains just sitting here in on a siding.

The main stop of the first day was of course the largest salt flat in the world. This is a massive expanse of white flat salt as far as you can see (the remnants of an evaporated prehistoric inland sea). We stopped at the Salt Hotel (literally built inside and out from blocks of salt), and then made the obligatory stop to take photos in the middle of the flats. Because of the immense white flatness, you can take great trick perspective shots, since you cannot tell what part of the ground you are standing on. Some of those types of photos are very tacky and overdone, but thankfully we had our own unique take on it, with Kleintjie finally able to grow past her diminutive size and meet us eye-to-eye.

A delicious lunch was prepared for us at the main island in the middle of the flats. The whole thing is actually made of coral, as it was once underwater, and it's bizarre to see. They have huge cacti on the island too (the tallest was 15m) and we climbed to the top and got a great view all around.
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In keeping with the oddness, that night we stayed in a tiny, dusty, windy village in the middle of the desert (pretty much what we were expecting Bolivia to be like). The whole place was built of mud bricks. Literally nothing to do except sit in the warmth and play cards. The mandatory football pitch was there of course, and some skills were flashed.

The next day was spent driving further south past many lagoons with flamingos, and wonderful mountain scenery. The altitude was quite tough as well, being over 4,200m the second night. We also hit the Colorado Lagoon, which is red due to small micro-organisms in the water. Once again, our guide was pretty useless and was actually just a driver. We heard of other people having very informative guides, who told them all about the region, wildlife and history. However, we had had a great run of guides on the Inca Trail and Lake Titicaca, so I guess we can't complain too much.

A bitterly cold night was spent at 4,200m, in very basic accommodation, with all 6 of us sharing a room, but we had some wine to keep us warm so the night was well spent. It was perfect in keeping with the oddness and "uniqueness" that is pervasive in Bolivia.

The next morning we got just the thing we needed to warm us up - a dip in the hot springs. We stopped at the springs about 8am on an icy morning, and it took some courage to make us strip off and jump in (helped by memories of our Australian friends in Mexico, who had told us that it was definitely worth it despite how little you would feel like it). The springs were perfectly hot, like a hot bath, and we defrosted our toes and enjoyed the eerie mountain scenery all around us. The region is very geologically active, and we also saw some geysers pouring sulfurous steam out of the earth.

After a well-deserved pancake breakfast, we headed for the border with Chile for our next adventure. The Bolivian border was typically rustic and strange, but the gorgeous mountain and volcano scenery made us reluctant to leave. However, once we crossed over into Chile, we sensed civilisation returning, with a great tarred road, uniformed officials at the immigration post (as opposed to the Bolivian ones wearing tracksuits) and an actual building instead of a shack. One of our co-passengers forgot about an apple in their bag and almost had to pay $1,000 for lying on the customs form. On the Bolivian side they never even asked us to declare anything.

It had been two weeks of strangeness and very new experiences, so we were slightly relieved to be getting back to more "civilised" turf. Our next hostel accepted credit cards - imagine that?!