I Guess We Can Make it There, We've Made it Everywhere, New York, New York

It has been a wild and woolly week for us back in the states.  We have had a wonderful time catching up with everyone while trying to pin down jobs and a home, but it does feel a little weird being back on home turf.  Everything is so easy here!  There is always toilet paper in the stall, everyone speaks English, signs make sense... I had forgotten what it was like to understand how a country works, and it is really, really nice.

We flew into Dallas from Lima (via Miami) and were driven to Abilene by my sister Erin and my niece Kate (Kate didn't do much driving, as she is 4, but she provided the entertainment).  It was so great to see them and have the 3 car-hours to catch up.  

Kate in her Peruvian hoodie

Seeing my mom in Abilene was also fantastic, and shortly followed by an awesome BBQ-filled party!  Mom wanted to throw us a post-wedding celebration since a lot of our family friends couldn't come to New York in April, so we thoroughly enjoyed the very Texas-flavored event.

The other important party waiting for us in Abilene was B'Easy, who I am thrilled to say remembered us clearly and repeatedly threw herself on the ground while whimpering and whining - those who know her know that equals happiness.  

We were so excited to be reunited!  My mom had taken excellent care of her, and she had apparently been a good girl for most of the 6 months.  While in West Texas, we also made our way to Lubbock to see my dad and stepmom, who sadly couldn't join us at the party due to my dad's being in the hospital (I am pleased to report he is back home and doing much better!), and we really enjoyed the visit, as well as the very West Texan drive through cotton fields and windmills.

The elementary school where my mom teaches had been following our adventures around the world in combination with their geography studies (with the teachers leaving out our more wine-soaked and Bangkok-ian escapades, I presume!), so we visited to answer their questions.  They were adorable!  The third graders were obsessed with sharks, with which we had had no encounters but that wasn't enough to deter them, and the fifth graders were a little too cool to ask many questions.  Fourth grade, we discovered, is the sweet spot, with the kids asking really thoughtful questions about our transportation methods and various climates.  It was so much fun to see their enthusiasm for the world beyond the USA!

The last Abilene job was to pick up and pack the gigantic moving truck that would take us to New York.  The Penske place ran out of 12-foot trucks, so we ended up with this 16-foot behemoth that I would have to navigate through the Manhattan streets!  I was a bit intimidated but by the time we pulled away from my Mom's house I felt mostly comfortable behind the wheel.  Good thing, because that's where I would end up for the next four days!  Once we loaded in the furniture that would make the cross country trip, we were pleased to see the spacious interior would accommodate us as well, should we have trouble finding a place to live.

The drive went as smoothly as possible, which was extraordinarily lucky - no accidents!  Yet!  (We still have the truck - anything can happen.)  Our first night we stayed in Dallas with Erin, Gary, and another great dose of Kate, who requested that I tuck her in.  Amazingly, after traveling the world and only getting lost in jungles, we got completely turned around in the Dallas suburbs between buying a couch at Ikea and finding my sister's house!  We did finally make it though, and enjoyed amazing steaks and a few glasses of wine, already making up for our drive.

The next two nights were spent in Nashville and D.C., with Casey and Alan, and Dom and Kristen, respectively.  Both nights were fantastic opportunities to catch up, despite varying degrees of bad behavior from B'Easy - apparently excitable chihuahua mixes are great friends, blind pugs are not.  The trip itself was absolutely gorgeous, with the trees just starting to turn all the way from Arkansas to Maryland, so when we weren't singing along with with REM or petting B'Easy, we were just taking in the views.  

Staying up late with our friends/family combined with getting up early to get on the road resulted in a very tired me by the time we arrived in New York, but our first glimpse of the skyline from the gritty New Jersey turnpike was enough to perk up any weary traveller.  We turned up "New York, New York" on the iPod and prepared to sail effortlessly through the Holland Tunnel...

...where we were turned away, directed to the Lincoln Tunnel, had our truck searched, and charged a $16 toll.  Welcome home!

Our few days in New York have been no less eventful that the rest of our travels.  As soon as we had parked in Manhattan and dropped off B'Easy with her Aunt Brooke, I headed to Joanne's bridal shower, and Ben met with our apartment broker!  Unfortunately, that guy turned out to be a useless idiot, so we found ourselves at the Apple store using their free internet to scour craigslist for more leads, again cursing the thugs who took our laptop.  

However, our hard work paid off!  By the end of the next day, we had signed a lease, and as of tomorrow we will be happy residents of Williamsburg, Brooklyn!  For those who don't know New York, Williamsburg is where all the cool hipster kids live, so the next time you see us we might be in hornrim glasses and ironic flannel.  

The view from our new rooftop!

We had to celebrate finding our new home, so, it being a Sunday, we headed immediately to P.J. Clarke's, where our favorite bartenders were faithfully awaiting us!  A pair of Hoegaardens has never tasted better.  Furthering our luck, between pulling into NYC on Saturday and moving tomorrow, we have been able to use my friend Mike's house in Cold Spring about an hour north of the city as a home base, which is especially amazing as his land can accommodate both our enormous truck and our crazy dog - no easy feat in the New York area.  It has been a godsend to have his house as a shelter these past few days.

So tomorrow is moving day, the last step in our wild honeymoon, which I guess is now officially over.  We have had the trip of a lifetime and seen so many astounding, incredible things.  However, in these past few days, the fall colors of eastern Tennessee, the wine enjoyed with friends, and the fantastic view that we, as of tomorrow, will enjoy from our balcony have reminded me that there are some wonderful moments to be had here in the USA.

It is good to be home.

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Epilogue - the trip by numbers:

* Miles travelled (not counting day trips, aimless wandering and runs) - 53,515

* Most confusing exchange rate (to $1) - 18,000 (Vietnamese Dong)

* Photos uploaded to flickr - you've checked them all, right? - 2,531

* Beds slept in (including two hostels in one night in Cusco) - 64

* Nights spent on planes, trains and automobiles - 21

* Flights taken - 20

* Books read - 37

* Countries visited - 15

* Continents visited - 6

* Police incidents - 2

* Delayed flights - 1!!!

* Cheapest beer - $0.08

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Link - Keeping ourselves entertained on the drive

Macho Picchu

When our bus finally pulled into Puno station about an hour late we were pleasently surprised to see that the only other passengers appeared to be a wizened old Peruvian woman, her small son and several fishing nets full of pigs(!) Given the pigs would be in the hold we thought this might mean a relatively restful journey but we were to be sorely disappointed. We haven´t yet figured out the extent to which it´s official policy vs. a nice little earner for the drivers but most Peruvian buses with space will, regardless of their schedule, remedy that by trawling the outskirts of nearby towns for anyone who needs a lift. The entertaining consolation is that the passengers already on the bus (including other hitchers), will protest any subsequent pause by drumming on the bus sides and shouting "Vamos! Vamos!" as loud as they can. Always up for a cultural experience we joined in heartily but as the evening dragged on the bus gradually filled up with shifty looking guys and old women. As we discovered on Lake Titicaca, Peruvian women take wearing lots of layers seriously and it sometimes seems that rather than changing they just add another couple of blankets every year. By middle age most appear as bowler hat-topped hillocks of shuffling fabric an effect enhanced by the fact that most also carry around several huge slings containing bales of knitwear, kitchen appliances and children. The ability to always take up adjacent seats on planes and buses is one of the biggest advantages of travelling as a couple.

Some fellow passengers:

Unfortunately at some point in the night we were treated to the most authentic South American bus journey experience of all and had our laptop and shiny leatherman knife stolen from our bags. We were awake the whole time and realized what had happened quite quickly (despite the theives replacing the laptop with a bottle of water in its case!), but with no help at all from the bus drivers there was very little we could do. Apart, of course, from shouting a lot in broken Spanish and standing in front of the bus until the driver sulkily agreed to call the police. After a long detour to the station and an hour spent watching a policeman write out a full sheet of A4´s worth of handwritten report we finally hit the road again but did not reach Cusco until 3.00a.m. Given we had a train ticket from a station (that was itself a taxi ride from town) at 7.00a.m. we very nearly went straight to the station but the freezing Andean night convinced us to find a hostel where we spent two and a half hours dreaming of elaborate and gory punishments for laptop thieves.

With a new morning came a fresh perspective and while still angry we were also incredibly relieved that our passports and glasses hadn´t gone with the laptop. Our friends Andy and Tara (see the link on the right) have recently been through the nightmare of having their passports stolen mid-trip and with their experience in mind we had to admit things could have been much worse.

The "Machu Picchu experience" was to prove the slickest operation either of us had seen in South America and that began with the Peru Rail train to Aguas Calientes a.k.a. Machu Picchu Pueblo. Punctual and clean, the train wound its way through the heart of the Incan Sacred Valley for three spectacular hours before we pulled into our destination and were immediately swept off to a decent hostel. The tiny village of Aguas Calientes straddles two rivers and the only motorized transport is the shuttle buses which run people up to Machu Picchu itself. While it´s dominated by restaurants and a tacky trinket market you can´t spend much time in South America without getting good at ignoring those and the mountain setting more than made up for any cultural shortcomings.

The next day was to be the grand finale of the trip and something we had both been looking forward to for months - our trip to the ´lost Incan city´of Machu Picchu. There are two ways to reach the site itself from Aguas Calientes: you can spend $7 on an 8km shuttle bus ride or get up early and yomp up a dizzyingly steep staircase through the jungle. We obviously chose b). and started our hike by head-torch at 4a.m.! As soon as we left the town we were treated to a amazingly clear starlit night spoilt only by the intimidating crocodiles of headtorches winding their way up the mountain ahead of us. Given how well-known the trek is I was amazed at how physically challenging it was and we wore out every one of the extra red blood cells we´d developed gasping our way around Puno.

This is the bus route - the trail cuts up the center of each switchback:

Megan celebrating our eventual arrival with a new friend at around 5.15a.m.

When the gates opened at 6a.m. we immediately climbed a little further to reach the hut from which you get the classic postcard view. The reward for arriving so early, assuming the weather is kind, is that you get to see the ruins slowly illuminated by the sun rising over the jungle coated mountains to the East. The still empty site is gradually flooded with deep shadows and the Eastern side of the ridge is soon basking in golden sunshine before the night mists have burnt away from the West. As has happened a couple of times already on this trip this is the point where words really begin to fail me. There is simply something magical in the combination of the ruins and their setting which seems to resonate deeply with everyone who experiences it and which left us grinning like idiots.

We spent the next couple of hours exploring the ruins and taking hundreds of photos of the temples, astronomical observatories and agricultural terraces which make up the citadel. While archaeologists now know a huge amount about the ruins themselves, exactly when or why they were built remains a mystery. We are currently reading "The Last Days of the Incas" by Kim MacQuarie which supports the theory that they were a form of royal retreat akin to a sixteenth century Camp David. What seems certain however is that the conquistadores never knew Machu Picchu existed and we could only wonder what it must have felt like to ´discover´the city in 1911.

The second part of our prize for getting up so early was that we were one of the first 400 people to arrive and were therefore allowed to climb Huayna Picchu - the seemingly vertical mountain which rises up behind the ruins in the photos above. If the morning´s climb was tough, this was another level entirely. I started off marvelling that back home the authorities would have had to invest in more handrails and probably made us sign a disclaimer but by the time we scrambled to the top we both agreed there is no way on earth anyone would be allowed with a mile of this mountain were it in the US without crampons, ropes and ideally a parachute. Several sections were more like stone ladders than a trail and it is no exaggeration to say that a simple slip could have been fatal along most of the route. The upside, of course, was even more photo opportunities.

After rallying ourself with a nutritious picnic of tinned tuna and chocolate biscusits we trudged back down to Aguas Calientes, bribed our hostel owner into letting us shower and headed back to the train. In order to keep to our increasingly tight schedule we had been ´forced´to spring for the luxurious Hiram Bircham train back up the Valley which was a marked improvement on the Backpacker coach on which we´d arrived. This being Peru however luxury = entertainment so no sooner had we settled in to read our books two jesters appeared followed by an Alpaca Wool fashion show all set to pounding techno music. Yay. From the train station we took a taxi for a smooth 80km back to Cusco and 19 hours after waking up finally, finally slept.

...for 3 hours until we realized that the hostel we had collapsed into was the top floor of Discoteca RAZA! Even in our sleep deprived state we had to laugh when we angrily dragged our bags across the road at 3.30a.m. and the bouncers tried to give us fliers.

As we knew would be the case we can´t help but think of our last few days in Peru as a chance to finish shopping, eat well, keep clean and not get anything else stolen. Cusco is the former center of the Incan empire - the city from which they launched the campaigns which captured huge swathes of South America in 90 years. It is also the city from which the Spanish conquered that new empire and in which all 200 of them were beseiged by their former ally Manco Inca and hundreds of thousands of his warriors in the 1530s. As you would imagine it is filled with incredible buildings and ruins and the sense of history is palpable but we are shamelessly limiting ourselves to sights that are cheap and no more than a short stroll from the pleasent Plaza de Armas and the reliable comforts of the town´s only McDonalds - after six months we just don´t care.

Incan stone walls form the foundations of many of the town center buildings:

Two sights which made the cut were the town cathedral (featuring an enormous depiction of the last supper (menu: guinea pig)), and the Saqsaywaman complex. This Incan fort, built on one of the hills surrounding the town, was the base from which Manco Inca had directed the aforementioned rebellion. The seige of Cusco was eventually broken when a desperate band of 30(!) Spanish cavalry broke out of town and rode in search of the Incan emperor, storming the walls visible in the photo below, forcing the emperor to retreat to Ollytatambo and demoralizing his massed armies.

Nearby was Cusco´s version of Rio´s Cristo Redemptor. Smaller and less elegantly proportioned than Brazil´s version, when floodlit at night he looks a lot like Casper the friendly ghost but still has spectacular views of town.

The Plaza De armas by night (Casper is top right)

If you´ve made it through this marathon post you´ll probably be eager to know when we plan on finishing this blog. Well the good news is that after 22 hours on a bus (6 movies, one dvd of Bollywood hits and one of Peruvian folkloric music) we are currently sat in Lima awaiting our flight back to the good ole USA. The bad news is that in an attempt to put off the inevitable we are planning to count our drive back to NYC itself so will probably have one or two updates yet. Stay tuned!

Lake Titicaca (hee hee!)

We had a quiet first few days in Perú, mainly because a large chunk of that time was spent on a bus. When on tierra firma, though, we have enjoyed ourselves. Perú has such a rich culture and history, and an ancient way of life that is still lived and celebrated by many people.

Our time in Perú began in Lima, which is unfortunately nothing to write home about - it´s quite possibly the ugliest major city I´ve ever seen, completely devoid of interesting landmarks or natural beauty to set it apart. There are a few decent colonial buildings that we took some boring pictures of but that´s about it!

Once we´d gotten the lay of the land, we decided the best course of action would be to get the heck out of there.

Had we known what awaited us we might have been less excited, as after 27 hours on a bus we would have gladly been back in Lima rather than spend one more minute in transit.

The first leg of our trip was 19 hours, an amount of time we´ve done a couple times before, so we weren´t too intimidated. However, in Perú, bus operators feel the need to entertain their passengers, and by entertain I mean show blaring constant DVDs for 15 of the 19 hours. We only had 4 hours to try to sleep, which were interrupted by our bus blowing a tire, stranding us on the side of the road for two early-morning hours, prompting the driver to "entertain" us with yet more videos. I was shocked by the graphically violent content (Apocalypto! Some Japanese torture porn?! What!!?) when there were little kids on board (not to mention sleepy gringos who just wanted to read), as well as the obnoxious volume which made it impossible to pay attention to anything else. Once we reached Arequipa, we had an hour´s break before starting our 7 hour trip to Puno. Luckily the DVD player was broken on this bus so we were just treated to yelping folkloric music the whole way. Ay ay ay!

Puno made up for the comute by being slightly more charming than Lima, or at least having one nice walkable high street lined with native people dressed in traditional clothes and bowler hats, giving us the comforting feeling that we weren´t about to be mugged.

Once we´d explored a bit we went in search of a nice meal - 27 hours on a bus will make you desparate for a fresh green vegetable - where we decided to order the famous regional delicacy - guinea pig! Now, Erin and I had two pet guinea pigs when we were little, Nutmeg and Spice ("Cooking suggestions!" says Ben.), so I was a bit nervous to order it and even more alarmed when it showed up:

So lifelike! Despite our attempt to enjoy the culturally significant dish, we were disappointed by the miniscule amount of meat it provided - not really worth killing the cute little guy.

Once we´d gotten fed and recovered from our altitude sickness (apparently going from sea level to almost 4000 meters in one day is bad for you!), it was time to take advantage of our reason for being in Puno - the amazing lake! Lake Titicaca made me giggle throughout high school geography (second only to Djibouti!), but it actually is a gorgeous gigantic lake. The thin air at high altitude makes the lake´s surface sparkle beneath the snow-capped Andes on the Bolivian side. It´s really spectacular.


The best way to enjoy the lake is via the islands, so we embarked on a 2-day adventure. The closest islands to Puno are the Uros, a collection of 40 or so man-made floating islands made of reeds and anchored to the lake floor.


It was amazing to see how the people used the reeds to make their islands, boats, houses, cooking fuel, and even snacks! They also use solar panels to watch TV in their little huts, which I thought was quite impressive. The islanders all used to be fishermen but now that tourism has arrived they live mostly to sell their weaving and show off their islands, replacing their old Aymara language with English, French, etc. - a little too commercialized for my taste but it was a fascinating visit.




Next we headed to Amantani, a real (non-floating) island filled with Quechua speaking farmers who haven´t embraced tourism quite as obviously. We had an amazing experience on the island, spending the night (without electricity or running water!) with a local family, who luckily spoke Spanish and Quechua, so communication was easy. Our hostess cooked traditional meals for us and loaned us traditional clothes to wear to the night´s fiesta. The fiesta definitely exists just to please the tourists but we did enjoy dancing around in a circle to the pan-flute band. The island is worth visiting for the views alone, but the opportunity to stay with a family was really priceless.

The next morning, after saying our goodbyes to our host, we headed over to the other large island, Taquile (where they do not serve tequila, despite the obvious marketing connection). This island was a bit more modern and tourist-friendly than Amantani, so we didn´t stay too long - we basically hiked to the top, had a delicious fresh trout lunch, hiked down, and motored back to Puno.




We are now about to board our penultimate long distance bus, this time to Cuzco, before the unthinkable happens - our return to the USA! There is still more to see and do, though, so we´re trying not to dwell on our return just yet.

Doo DeeDoo DooDoo DeeDoo, doo-Doo DeeDoo DooDoo DeeDoo...

We had both been looking forward to Rio as much as any city we have visited on this trip. Some of our stops, like Hanoi and Buenos Aires, have benefited from our arriving with few preconceptions but Rio is one of those places that instantly brings to mind a barrage of images. From its flamboyant Carnaval and love of samba music to the notorious favelas portrayed in City of God this spectacular city, squeezed between lush mountains and the famous beaches of Copacabana and Ipanema, means something to everyone - usually something like this:

Unfortunately the defining feature of our time here has been something that people more commonly associate with Seattle than Rio. Rain. Every type of rain. Little bitty stingin' rain... and big ol' fat rain. Rain that flew in sideways. And sometimes rain even seemed to come straight up from underneath.

As our life is already a one-sided struggle to prevent our clothes sprouting, this developement has been quite disappointing but we have made the most of it and thanks to a wonderful couchsurf have still had a good time. Our host for almost all of our time in Rio was a great guy called Zelson who generously opened his home to us and made up for insisting we go for a run as soon as we had dropped our bags by cooking us a delicious dinner! After such a warm welcome we were a little slow moving on our first morning but managed to take advantage of what was to be our only sunshine with a trip up to the famous statue of Christ the Redeemer. The views are absolutely spectacular and the statue itself is quite powerful given the millions of lives it oversees:

From there we took a long walk along the beach at Copacabana and took in the views of the iconic sugarloaf mountain (her name is Lola):

After an evening with Zelson spent preparing for our imminent return to the US with some good TexMex food and caipirinhas the next morning found us hiking around the beautiful neighbourhood of Santa Teresa and enjoying yet more views. From there we took a terrifying trolley car down to "Centro," the lively, bustling commercial heart of the city:

The next day the rain arrived in earnest and, although we put up a good fight and spent a couple of hours in the excellent Museo des Belles Artes, the sogginess eventually got the better of us and we headed home. After a warm hour of Tim Gunn exhorting us to 'make it work' via our laptop we rallied and headed out to the nightlife area of Lapa for a fantastic evening of live music - we had been told several times that three caiprinhas is enough to master Portuguese and Megan can now confirm that a fourth also enables you to dance the Samba!

Ashamed of the previous day's poor performance we steeled ourselves for another dousing and after moving to a nearby hostel we headed of for a tour of a couple of the city's favelas. As in Mumbai we were somewhat wary of the potential for such a tour to be voyeuristic but were again very impressed with the professionalism of our guide whose description of the role these improvised communities play in the city's life was fascinating. Over 20% of Rio's population live in favelas yet they are not marked on maps and basic services like rubbish collection and sewerage are only being extended gradually by the government. It will be interesting to see if that process speeds up before 2016. While the tour itself was very safe the guide made no bones about the prevalence of organized crime and the violence that it occasionally causes.

That evening we had a great dinner with Zelson and his girlfriend Marcella and we were very sad to say our goodbyes at the end of the evening but hope we get the opportunity to host them in New York in the future.

Our last day was supposed to see an improvement in the weather but that never materialized so after ticking the box with a soggy slog along Ipanema beach we retired to the warmth of our hostel to catch most of the 9 hours of the Hawaii Ironman - I miss my bikes! We caught a night bus back to Sau Paulo and when we finally arrived early the next morning it was, inevitably, to glorious sunshine! Shelving our plans to hole up in a hotel for the day we headed out to explore a couple of more neighbourhoods including the city's China town and Little Italy. Thanks to Megan's witchlike sense of direction we found our way to a couple of great markets and saw some very special local traditions such as the annual 'running of the goths.'

And with just enough time for one more light, vegetarian meal we were suddenly at the end of our time in Brazil with only Peru to go.

Gooooooooooooaaaaaaaal!

We're shocked that it hadn't happened already, but the day finally came for our first delayed flight when we left Buenos Aires for Sao Paulo. After being herded onto the plane, made to wait an hour or so, and then removed from the plane, we waited in the airport for several more hours before boarding a different plane, this one without technical issues, to our relief. The later boarding time made it so that we missed the Rio 2016 Olympics announcement while in the air, but it was a fun bit of news to discover upon landing in Brazil!

Sao Paulo has a reputation for being a bit rough around the edges, and we have found this to be very true. There's graffiti on every outdoor surface, even dozens of stories above the ground (how?!) and the homeless line the streets. Our guide book carries plenty of warnings about preparing yourself for muggings and where to walk at night, but although we are traveling smart and keeping up our guard, we are able to relax pretty well, as the locals have been nothing but friendly and kind to us. The biggest threat we've faced was when I thought two tough kids were exchanging gang signs on the subway, but it turns out they were deaf! That told me I needed to drop the paranoia.

The pretty central cathedral:

Rough city streets:

The biggest adjustment so far has been being surrounded by Portuguese. Very few Brazilians (at least those we have come across) speak any English or Spanish, and Portuguese is almost impossible to understand or attempt to speak. Even though it looks much like written Spanish, the pronunciation sound more like Russian and even when I order agua, no one seems to understand. We're getting by pretty well with sign language and smiles, though (much like those gangster deaf kids). Luckily Sao Paulo is very easy to get around, thanks to the completely awesome, efficient, and art-filled subway, the lines of which are named after gems - you can take the Ruby line and connect to the Diamond line or the Sapphire train. Much more interesting than numbers!

Also interesting: some of the hilarious store names.

Despite the fact that we don't know any Portuguese, we are often mistaken for locals, which we've found interesting. More than once, people have asked us for directions or tried to start a conversation with us, only to find us baffled by their language. It must be due to the incredible racial diversity of Brazil - no one looks like a foreigner here. Brazilians come in absolutely every shade and with any mix of ethnic features - it's really fascinating to look at the people. We recently learned that Brazil has implemented a much more secure passport for its people, as the old ones were so often used in counterfeiting. Why? Because anyone in the world could believably be Brazilian!

Our first night, we arrived in the evening and headed straight for our hotel, where we were greeted with this room:

I guess it's one of those hotels! I swear we're paying by the night and not the hour. Still, it is a very comfortable room! After a good night's sleep, we headed out the next day determined to see some futebol - and were not disappointed! We bought tickets for that night's game at the stadium, which also houses the national Museo de Futebol, one of the best niche museums I've ever seen. It was full of interactive media displays, videos and discussions of famous goals, world cup wins and losses, and tributes to the national passion for the game. Even though I'm not a huge soccer fan, nor am I fluent in Portuguese, I absolutely loved the museum. There were so many unique exhibits and innovative effects to really make the visitor feel involved in futebol-mania - you can even kick a soccer ball at a computer goalie and have your speed measured! However, if the museum wasn't enough to make me a total convert, the game did the trick. We watched the Sao Paulo Corinthians lose 3-1, but the game was absolutely thrilling. The rabid fans all around us held their breaths at every goal attempt, and Ben received a bear hug from his Brazilian neighbor after the only successful goal! The guy next to me was literally crying when it was clear the Corinthians would lose. The trash talk consisted entirely of "Fili de Putaaaaa!" aimed loudly and frequently at the 12 or so loyal fans who had shown up for the opposition and ended up leaving early at to avoid getting beaten up following their team's victory. It was so much fun, and we felt like honorary Brazilians for the night.

The disappointed local fans:

Our other main tourist activity was a trip to the Museo de Arte Sao Paulo, famed for its huge collection of Western art. The museum was lovely, and just the right size to see every exhibit without getting exhausted. There also happened to be an antiques market set up outside which we enjoyed poking around, and a huge lush garden across the street for a gorgeous backdrop.

Tchotchkes at the market:

We also got an impromptu breakdancing show as we headed back to our hotel - a bunch of kids were spinning in the street with a cheering crowd. They were actually really good!

The only real negative to Brazil so far has been the prices - it is very expensive here. We were shocked to find a McDonald's salad for about $12 (American dollars!) - needless to say we didn't eat there. $600 Asics sneakers and $50 paperback books are the norm here, so we won't be doing much shopping.

As interesting as gritty, authentic Sao Paulo has been, we have long been itching to get to Rio, so after a couple days we boarded a 6-hour bus and took off for our next city - and our next couchsurfing adventure!

Buenas Noches Buenos Aires

Megan being Megan the next night, of course, was Tango class. Before displaying our twinkling toes to BA however we decided to explore one more nighbourhood of this fantastic city and headed to La Boca - home of the famous Boca Juniors football team. La Boca is one of the poorer nighbourhoods and the graffitti'd streets and rundown buildings were a reminder that not every area of this city has a New York equivalent. The grittier atmosphere really didn't need emphasizing but as we walked down the main highway one local resident nevertheless took it upon themselves to remind us exactly where we were. I've had the misfortune of being crapped on by a bird several times and while that initially mystifying splatter is never pleasent this incident really set a new bar. Absent evidence of a coordinated attack I can only assume that one sick, sick avian was responsible for the thorough dousing that left both Megan and me gasping and every item of clothing we were wearing covered in a goopy pebbledashing that scattered our fellow pedestrians. Eventually one brave woman, crossing herself profusely and clenching her nose tightly, chanced her way across to us with tissues and water in hand and we made a token attempt too clean ourselves off. While her kindness further confirmed our impression that porteños are an unusually friendly bunch a shower was now an unavoidable prelude to the dance class so we made short work of the famously colourful La Boca market and headed home.

Even I have to admit to being quite taken with the Tango which, compared to the Salsa classes we elbowed and kneeded our way through last Summer, seems a very natural dance and dare I say it quite sexy. Our class did not start well with me displaying an incredible inability to walk in any way other than left, right, left, right but in time we managed a passable square and even a couple of more advanced moves:

The next day should have had us exploring the famous San Telmo antiques market but unfortunately the weather turned and we instead spent most of the day hiding from the rain in the warm interior of a local pub. Eventually however the time came for us to hoist our bags and head for the subway on the first leg of our 19 hour journey to Puerto Iguazu - the gateway to the Iguazu falls.

After our experience in India the prospect of 18 hours on a bus was not particularly appealing but it turns out that Argentine buses are actually great. Even the cheap seats are about the size of a lazy-boy, the services seem to be very punctual and the food, if uniformly white and bread-based is abundant. The clincher for us was probably when our waist-coated server asked if we cared for some wine with our dinner! It's sad but on this sample I would have to rate South American long-haul bus services as far more pleasant than most domestic US airlines.

After a lazy afternoon in the remarkably unremarkable Puerto Iguazu we got up bright and early for our carefully planned trip to the falls themselves. Google hasn't been much help in quantifying exactly why these falls are so amazing (they're definitely not the tallest), but it was immediately clear why they top most lists of the world's best. We started our tour by walking over a kilometer on wooden gangplanks set above increasingly rapid water until we were standing above the terrifying "Devil's Throat." The sound was indescribable and the volume of water disappearing into the cauldron below us simply remarkable.

From there we headed first to the 'Upper Trail' which afforded us spectacular views of some of the other 247 cascades and then to the 'Lower Trail' which did much the same thing but with more soaking.

After the falls themselves (and sharing the park with "The Teenagers" who, a breathless Argentinian girl that had taken a momentary break from screaming informed us, are a band and actors), the highlight of the trip was the wildlife. The falls are set in dense rainforest and we were surounded by beautiful birds throughout our visit. Jaguars are also apparently native but the only mammals we saw were the coatis. These look much like a cat-sized anteater and they had no fear of humans whatsoever (that apple was dropped by an unsuspecting Italian woman about four seconds before this photo was taken):

That evening a timely email from our wedding-reader Kate reminded us that we really hadn't been pushing our meat consumption to the levels Argentina demands so we took up the challenge of a local restaurant's grill for two and were not disappointed. When the spitting griddle arrived at our table it contained: 1/2 a chicken, a steak that I would estimate as being around 20 oz, 2 huge chorizo sausages, 1 equally oversize blood sausage, 4 kidneys, several chitterlings, 4 tripe strips, 2 sets of 3 short ribs and two pork chops. Yes we did. And we had flan. With dulce de leche.

From Iguazu we made the long trip back to Buenos Aires for a frantic day of clothes washing, haircuts, Evita museum touring and handbag buying (yay) to ensure we were adequately prepared for Brazil - suddenly our penultimate country. Argentina has definitely given Vietnam a run for its money as our favorite stop on this trip. Sadly, given the economic tribulations the country has been through, the comparative strength of the dollar is a big part of that but it is not the only factor. The lifestyle and culture of Buenos Aires in particular are extremely appealing and everyone we have interacted with has left a favorable impression. How can you fail to love a country where, if you buy a bottle of wine at the supermarket the cashier will offer to open it for you?

Don't Cry for Us

I have always wanted to go to Argentina. I don't know exactly why, but I'm sure it has something to do with reading a lot of Borges in college, seeing Evita during the impressionable high school years, and having a slight and inexplicable Argentine accent while speaking Spanish, prompting my farmworker patients to ask me more than once if I were from here. Argentina also happens to be the home of Ben's and my favorite red things: meat and wine. And coincidentally, B.A. has a familiar nickname - Big Apple. Unsurprisingly, we feel very at home here.

As soon as we arrived and walked the many blocks from the airport bus dropoff to our hostel, we were amazed by the grand architecture of BA. As a whole, the city feels more like Paris than any other non-Paris city I've ever been to - every balcony is gorgeous wrought iron, and every corner is graciously curved and ornamented. There are heroic statues at every turn, a magnificent theatre, avenues with 12 lanes in each direction, and lively neighborhoods, each with a distinct character. Buenos Aires feels like an anomoly in South America, in that it's completely modern and European in structure and New World in attitude - it's basically New York on the cheap. I think I could live here.

We started our stay off with a dinner of steak and wine, because that's what you order in Argentina, and were satisfied (though not thrilled) with both - that's what you get at your neighborhood pub, I suppose. However, two nights later, we went for a proper steak dinner at a renowned restaurant across town, and we both had the best steak of our lives. It was absolutely incredible - a filet and a ribeye, sides, wine, dessert, etc... total bill: $35. Have I mentioned that I love Buenos Aires?

It has also been a fortunate turn of events that we chose a hostel in San Telmo, the tango neighborhood that most closely equates to the East Village - slightly scruffy but with a lot of art and character. We have loved walking around San Telmo, which happens to border a marshy ecological reserve with miles of running paths with distances marked - perfect! We've been running just about every day to make up for the steak and wine.

Our first major tourist stop was the Recoleta cemetery. Recoleta is the posh, wealthy area of BA where the upper crust live, and the cemetery is where they are buried. It's a fascinating city of the dead, with mausoleums towering up on either side of the walkways, topped with angels and sayings. It appears that each little "house" belongs to a family, and the caskets are all stored underground, except for the few that we could see through the doors on street level. Plaques are added as people are added, so some families have dozens of names, all laid to rest in the same place. It's an odd tourist attraction, but so interesting to see how dynamic a cemetery can be. Plus, Eva Peron is buried there, in her Duarte family mausoleum, so we had to pay her a visit.

Recoleta also has plenty of shopping, enabling us to spend a leisurely afternoon walking through shops and learning to tango in the street.

The next day we explored the parks and shopping of Palerma, which is the trendy, hip neighborhood. Palermo has a few enormous parks, including a zoo, botanical garden, and a Japanese garden, so we spent the morning paddling around the pond and strolling over the Japanese bridge.

Conveniently, Palermo is also known for shopping, and I have been keeping a keen eye out for Argentina's famous leather goods. We wandered the streets for a few hours, happening on a couple little shops, but nothing impressive. Finally, after the sun went down, I asked a shop girl where all the other shops were, and she handed me a Palermo shopping map! Turns out we had been a few blocks away from the good stuff the whole time, so we scrambled over and crammed a day's worth of (window) shopping into the last hour before closing. Then we had steak to make up for it.

San Telmo, our neighborhood, is known as the birthplace of tango, and there are still dozens of tango-related activities throughout the streets. We've seen one couple perform during dinner, and have listened to live music just about every night, including one tango-themed concert.

It's an absolutely amazing dance, so graceful and strong, and I am dying to take a lesson! Ben's next post will tell you whether or not I was successful in dragging him into one.

We still have a few more days in Argentina before moving on, but I already know this will not be my last visit here. Even as we turn for home, we are still very much in the moment and enjoying our last few adventures!

Chile today, hot tamale!

We're back on the road again and are already drawing to the end of our time in Chile - the first of our South American stops. The flight from Auckland to Santiago was the longest we plan to take on this trip and despite the best efforts of LAN Chile (which may well have snuck the bamrtw favourite airline award away from BA), too many movies and glasses of red wine meant we arrived with our first serious case of jet lag. We found our hostel without too much difficulty but resigned ourselves to a very steady first afternoon which was just as well as the rest of the city seemed to have gone home in preparation for the upcoming independence day celebrations. Santiago is reputed to be one of the easiest Latin cities for travellers to get to grips with but when we eventually dragged ourselves up for a walk-around we decided that was travel-book speak for being a bit underwhelming. Our hostel was a beautiful converted villa and there were some other interesting buildings in our neighbourhood but much of the center could easily be any rundown US or UK city with its pedestrianized shopping precinct lined with McDonalds, banks and department stores. This hilly park was one of the most interesting features though the bland concrete tower blocks in the views are much more typical of the city at street level:

We slept in again the next day awaking at almost the exact time the rest of the city officially shut down for the holiday and only a few hours before we were due to attend a barbecue laid on by our hostel. We strolled the empty streets again and this time were rewarded with our first view of the astonishing Andes which surround the city but are generally obscured by the smog. We got a complete view a few days later from a bus but in some ways they seemed even more ethereal this time when completely divorced from the city scape below:

After the Andes and the tens of thousands of stray dogs the most notable thing about Santiago is the private bus system which runs gleaming modern coaches throughout the country incredibly frequently and reliably. The next day we spent $6 and 2 hours traveling to the port town of Valparaiso - Chile's 'cultural capital'. Arriving in the evening to yet more underlit, empty streets our first impressions were not very favourable. Our host assured us that there was a big fiesta at the other end of town but as we trekked in the direction she'd indicated we couldn't help but notice that most of the shops looked more locked-down than closed and that every surface was covered in graffiti. After almost an hour we finally began to hear the distant thump of traditional music and a short while later found ourselves looking down with relief on an enormous fun-fair! The main attractions were enclosed dancehalls where huge suited bands tried to outdo each other for customers keen to show off their merengue and salsa moves. For the uncoordinated westerners there were meat sticks, enormous beers and the usual range of impossible sideshows to lose money on:

Thankfully Valpariso by daylight had a much less sketchy atmosphere than the nightime version and the view from any of the hills that form the natual ampitheater on which the city is built was quite beautiful. One of the highlights of our exploration was the poet Pablo Neruda's house 'Floridita'. The building is filled with artifacts from the nobel prize winner's life and does a great job of conveying what an interesting man he must have been.

The graffiti - by day some of it was astonishing:

We started our final day in Valparaiso riding the famous furnicular 'ascensores' - rickety stairlifts for the town's commuters which had been installed when the town was at its economic peak at the start of the century. After a huge slap of chocolate cake as reward for all the stairs we'd just avoided we found a traditional dance performance in one of the town squares and whiled away a peaceful hour before we had to leave for Santiago.

We have friends who have spent months exploring Chile and knew when planning this trip that a brief visit like ours was unlikely to offer anything more than a gentle introduction to South America. Even with such modest expectations however I have to say that Santiago has been far from our favourite stop to date. The people are extremely friendly and the city is surprisingly modern, clean and prosperous though, if anything, it is a less interesting (and more expensive) destination as a result.

Kiwi Mix

This post will be another short one, I'm afraid, as we have still done little more than sleep late, eat 5 meals a day, and stare at the computer, but we've continued to have a wonderful time in NZ despite our thus far unsuccessful search for jobs and an apartment. We did occasionally get out of the house, especially because the weather remained absolutely gorgeous, sunny, and unseasonably warm, perfect for a run through the Botanic Garden, a visit to a couple wineries, or a spin in a vintage Austin Healy.

As luck would have it, such a car lives in the garage, and Simon was kind enough to take me for a ride.

Ben and I also made time to join in a local "Self Transcendence" road race sponsored by the international Sri Chin Moy group. The route was dotted with oddly motivational signs telling us runners that success is achieved only through knowing yourself, or something like that, but they must have worked as Ben took home the prize for the half marathon (with a course record, to boot!) and I ran a respectable 10K. Ben is so far 2-0 in races on this trip, and feeling quite pleased. Too bad we'll just miss the NY Marathon when we get home!

We were fortunate enough to time our trip to coincide with the annual Christ's College Black and White Ball, which was a lovely event in appreciation of the school's board and parents. It was the first time I've ever name dropped my new last name to get an impressed reaction - the benefit of now being related to the headmaster! It's hilarious to me to think about the extremes of our trip - climbing through dirty jungles in Vietnam, attempting to sleep on a dusty, non-air-conditioned bus in India versus sitting at the head table and drinking champagne at a black tie event and gliding through Hong Kong harbor in a privately chartered boat, again sipping champagne. Luckily we're traveling with a versatile wardrobe. I knew those heels would get some use!

Another favorite sight has been the college itself, which Simon took the time to show us around. The beautiful Victorian stone campus buildings are impeccable, and all the boys heading to class in their suits were very well-behaved - impressive!

We did actually get out of Christchurch, once, in order to walk on Fox Glacier, about a 6-hour drive away. My abilities at driving on the left continue to improve, so we made the drive through an incredibly beautiful mountain pass and along the west coast without any problems.

The town of Fox Glacier consists of one bar, two cafes, and glacier-walking guides, but we were able to get a cheap motel room and a decent dinner. Our glacier walk the next morning was beautiful - another sunny day counteracted the chilly glacier breezes and although our actual time on the ice was rather short, the 4-hour hike to get there and back was a lot of fun. The glacier itself was quite impressive, a huge expanse of ice that pours down from a narrow valley into a wider plain and ends at an expanse of rocks and small ponds, left behind as the glacier has receded in recent years. Without the pressure of the ice, the sides of the valley are rather unstable, and we even saw some boulders come crashing down the hillside (a safe distance away!) which apparently happens every day. Once on the ice we were able to trudge around with crampons on our boots and get some beautiful views of blue ice and the valley below.

Sadly, we knew our comfy time with the family would have to come to an end, and we are now in the Auckland airport heading to Chile. Between Jane's amazing cooking and the general spoilage we've received, it actually is quite difficult to get back in the swing of things and haul our luggage around again. We've had such a fabulous time without an ounce of stress - truly a vacation from our vacation. Still, South American has always been #1 on my list of places to visit, and I'm so excited to finally be on our way. It feels like we're on the home stretch, with so many good things behind us, and even more ahead!

Make them eat cake

It's apparently already been a week since Dad's post but as time at 16 Armagh Street is measured on the home baking calendar I can only confirm that it's been a lemon drizzle cake, a slab of raisin cake, a box of butter flapjack, several roast dinners, more bottles of wine than I can count and a Christmas cake (?!) since the last post. While we have both been lapping up the comforts of home (stocked refrigerator!, working plumbing!), we have also been steeling ourselves for our looming return to New York. Unfortunately while the great weather we've enjoyed throughout the trip has followed us across the Tasman as a beautiful early Spring that has meant spending a fair bit of our time deepening our hatred of Macs as we trawl the internet for jobs, apartments and cheap u-haul rentals.

On the days we have changed out of our pjs we have enjoyed exploring the spectacular scenery around Christchurch. The city itself is the biggest in the South Island and sprawls across the pancake flat Canterbury plain - bordered by the Port Hills to the South and an endless stretch of curved beach to the West.

The first time cabin fever forced us out of the house we drove the route of my favourite cycling route up through the Port Hills and all the way to the town of Akaroa. This (comparatively) old settlement is a former French colony and its history is still visible in the architecture and street names of the town center. The real highlight of the trip though is the drive itself - these are just a few of the views:

Littleton Harbour

A cow

Akaroa (4 seasons in 1 day was written about this country)

Our next trip was a carefully negotiated double header - if I agreed to entrust my life to a horse of guaranteed docility for two hours Megan would accompany me for an afternoon mountain bike around the beautiful Bottle Lake Forest Park. Although neither of us will admit it both trips had their charms but the scenery again stole the show:

No pedals

Mum Leese and Megan looking the part

When you turn on a PC in New Zealand this is what you see

Wow

No hay required

We emerged next for a quick jaunt out to the house of some friends of my parents who have redefined "work-life balance" by retiring (or semi-retiring) from legal careers in the US to pursue farming and beekeeping in rural Canterbury! After a delicious lunch we were walking around their fields when our host announced that we were just in time to witness the birth of their first ever baby goats!
"You're kidding!" I said,
"No she's kidding!" she replied:



For our most recent expedition we drove up to Hanmer Springs, finally making it into the foothills of the snowcapped mountains which have seemed to float above the Northern horizon since our arrival. The town markets itself as the South Island's Alpine village but I don't know anywhere in France where you can soak off a hard morning's mountain bike crashing in a 41 degree thermal hot tub: