Have Itch, Will Travel

Here are a few things that I have found to be almost indispensable. Small Notes And Change: Argentinean city buses for example, only accept coins and it is rare to find anyone who has change for the 100 and 200 notes that the ATMs dispense, from cab drivers and market stalls all the way to restaurants, hostels and even the general post office ! Every time we spend money, it is a game to try to break the large notes, or to buy things that will give us some change. They are good for times tango dancers pass around a hat and paying small surprise taxes and tips for porters and public toilets. Cards And Cash: I have had problems in Argentina withdrawing more than a measly 300 pesos a day (about $AU100) from my travel debit card, and all my other cards didn't work in their machines for some reason. I managed there, but had more problems in Bolivia. None of my cards worked when we arrived in Uyuni (we only found one ATM there), so I resorted to exchanging some of the US dollars that my

In Santa Marta , I stayed in a hostel called La Brisa Loca which was a really nice looking hostel; big, open, modern, with a decent bar area and a pool. But for such a big place, they really needed more cleaning staff or more attentive administration, because my dorm was never cleaned after the messy boys left. I walked about town and was wowed by the beach scene; hundreds of people cooling off in the gentle blue-green Caribbean, an island in the near distance and a cruise ship docked to the right. The beach itself was small, with waves breaking close to the esplanade , and the sand dark. In a lazy mood, I decided not to do anything during my short stay but people watch. Was it the vibe of the locals, most possessing that vibrant African heritage of love for music and fun, or the fact that Christmas was just around the corner, that lent the evening such an excitable atmosphere? The esplanade was lit up by lights and simply alive with people trying to beat the heat melting their icecr

A couple of my dorm-mates, Jack from Oz and Linda from the Netherlands, and I enquired at the hostel for directions to the Salt Cathedral of Zipaquira . We were given a handy slip of paper with the necessary instructions. So we took the metrobus to the North Portal bus station where there was a small bus headed to Zipa. We got a bit lost in the little Andean town but eventually found the cathedral... at the top of many many stairs. The scenery around was lovely, of rolling hills and countryside. Linda was particularly excited about the hills! The cathedral was basically sets of crosses representing the Stations in alcoves and tunnels cut into the mountain which used to be a salt mine. With enormous caverns and colored lights backlighting crosses, it was pretty cool to take our own time climbing stairs and wondering what was around the corner. I wanted to explore more of the town of Zipa itself since it looked like a cute colonial town, but it was getting late, and we wanted to arrive b

"Where are you headed next?" someone asked me. "Colombia," I told them. Travelers can be grouped into two distinct sets; those who tell you not to go because they have never been and they have heard that it is dangerous, and those who have been and encourage you to go because it is awesome. This person was the former. But I had heard from both sides already and was mostly interested in Cartagena, and so decided to only stop by Bogota for a night anyway. I'm not sure why I even made the assumption that I wouldn't enjoy the city, since previous experiences have shown me that "unpleasant" Lima and "dangerous" Quito, both of which I had planned to only stop by for a night or two, ended up being cities that I quite liked. I met up with Sonny who I met in Cali and we went for a walk around, visiting the various plazas where there were lively craft markets and the odd live performances, and then the larger Bolivar Plaza in the middle of the

I arrived in Cali, proclaimed "Salsa Capital", at about 2am and took a cab to a hostel that was mentioned in my guide book. It was full, and the lady I awoke at the ungodly hour was nice enough to point me in a direction towards another. Up the hill. I found Iguana Hostel and crashed in a hot stuffy dorm. In the morning, I met a bunch of friendly fellow travelers in the common dining room and decided that despite landing the only room with a window too small to crawl through, I liked the place. It had a little balcony out the back, a tv, internet and best of all, a kitchen and laundry service. I went for a walk exploring the town with Sonny, an archaeologist from Texas, and found that the city wasn't particularly exciting or pretty. It was actually confusing because it didn't have the typical layout of Latin American cities, of plazas and monuments. The whole place was more like a giant suburb where traffic honked incessantly and stalls were set up on every square ce

The bus from Otavalo stopped at the north terminal at about 9pm and I took a local bus to the Quitumbes terminal in the south. The bus ride took about an hour and cost just 50c when a cab the same distance would have cost $18. It was so cold overnight in the terminal despite my trusty fleece and I was only able to have snatches of sleep. At 0430, I was still waiting for the international ticket office to open. At 5, I started to wonder if the woman the previous day had told me that the bus departs at 0530, but in any case, the office was distinctly closed. A few minutes later, I learned from a jalador that buses north leave from downstairs . But I saw none to Tulcan, on the border. I started to fear that the 5am one had come and gone, and that I had spent an uncomfortable night in the terminal for nothing, but a jaladora told me that there were more buses to the border yet. 45 minutes later, I was on my way to Colombia and breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe my run of bad luck really w

If you have traveled in other countries of Latin America, you will have seen the Otavalo markets of Ecuador. It is the same kind of handicraft that is sold all over; paintings, wood carvings, beads, jewellery, knits, scarves, hats, leather goods... But the Otavalo markets is your one stop artisan shop. It consists of blocks and blocks of stalls, biggest on Saturdays, with foreign and local visitors haggling the day away. I bought a small leather satchel to replace the sling bag I lost earlier in the morning and spent the rest of the day wandering and taking photos. Many of the local people there in the highlands still wore their traditional dress, colorful and similar to Andean folk from Peru and Bolivia. Slight differences include the fact that many of the men wear their hair in long ponytails under felt hats so that they remind me of native North American Indians. There was an immense queue back to Quito and other places en route in the afternoon. The buses lined up, filled with pa

I had a plan. There was to be a midnight bus from Atacames back to Quito and from there, I would get another to the artesania capital of Ecuador, Otavalo, where I would spend the day at the enormous Saturday markets. Then, in the afternoon, I would catch a bus back to Quito and finally, from Quito an international bus into Columbia. It was a good plan, as far as I figured. Now usually, when things present themselves as difficult to me, I back off and procrastinate attempting again. I don't particularly like this about me, so I once in a while come across opportunities to go against my natural tendencies. Sometimes, change sucks. Bad Luck Number One When I turned up at the bus office over half an hour early to buy a bus ticket, they told me the bus was full . Fighting the urge to skulk back to the hostel and wait another day, I instead forged ahead, looking for an alternative. The other bus companies told me that their next buses would leave at about 6am, which was unacceptable for

According to the Ecuadorian girl I met on the bus to Guayaquil, Esmeraldas was a top place to visit in her country. But I was disappointed. A dodgy looking little town, I couldn't see any touristy places or even the ocean. But I thought to give it the benefit of the doubt and stay a night to do more exploring in the morning. I learned however, of Atacames nearby, which was geared more to tourists and took a cab there. I found a hotel for $10 a day situated fifteen seconds from the beach . It was an awesome place; great beach, a long street of thatched bars and restaurants on the sand, pumping music to compete with their close neighbors. There were many hotels, internet cafes and places to eat. The food was quite expensive though the portions large and delicious... apart from the cebiche . I was prepared not to judge Ecuadorian cebiche after one sample in the inland town of Mitad del Mundo and hoped that on the coast it would be better. It wasn't. The lime juice was dilute an

I spent some hours wandering about the new town, dubbed "Gringoland" and thought it really wasn't that touristy; a square with many cafes, restaurants and bars, artesan market and some tour companies spread out over a very large area. It bored me and I decided to fall back on a city tour. It was okay as far as city tours go. We visited some of the many churches in Quito, including "the most baroque church in South America" and "the highest church in South America". We also visited a mirador overlooking the foggy valley where a plane crashed into a neighboring mountain a year ago... the same valley where the government wants to build an airport. The Plaza Grande was also on the itinerary of course, and the Calle de las Siete Cruzes (Street of the Seven Crosses). Because of city traffic, it took a long time to get to Mitad del Mundo , The Middle Of The World town, situated right on the equator . There were not many tourists at the time, but the smal

I knew the bare minimum of seeing Baños was to do a couple of chiva tours (tours on converted trucks), and the first one I did was the Volcan tour which departed at 2130hrs and cost just $5 from the hotel. The chiva was full of local tourists and after a half hour journey up a mountain neighboring the town, we looked over the edge to see Baños lit up. The neat grid of streets and church towers glowed below us. Unfortunately, I was not able to make out the volcano, but there was an impressive and funny fire juggling show that made up for it. The last part of the tour was a club where some people got off to drink and dance. The next day, I debated whether to wear my flip flops or my shoes to the Cascadas Tour , but I had a feeling we might do a bit of trekking, so I opted for the shoes. We visited many waterfalls from a distance, and at one point, the 14 year old guide encouraged us to sit on the roof of the chiva . It was a thrill since the bars only came to a little above lumbar h

After spending a long day wandering the malecon of warm Salinas and taking in the view of the long beach and apartment buildings, I took a bus to Baños . I was still flying without much of a plan. I had no idea when I should take the bus so as to get there at a decent hour and all I knew was that it was an hour after Ambato and there was a $7 per night hostel "near the basilica". Just after midnight, the bus stopped and the driver hollered, "Terminal!" but I was certain we hadn't reached Baños yet because I had just seen a sign pointing the way to my destination. There were still half a dozen people in the bus after most people filtered out, so I deduced that we were in Ambato. I was right, and at nearly 2am, I got off the bus to a dead town. It was dark, there were no cabs to se seen and the only movement in the main street after the bus and the last passengers had left was a cleaner sweeping the gutter and another woman standing on the curb. I started to ask

The bus terminal of Guayaquil is much like an airport, with three storeys, shops and a boarding pass system that gave me trouble. I found my way to the boleterias to buy my ticket and had no problems there, though the boletero told me to hurry as the bus to Salinas was soon to leave. Thinking that one of the two pieces of paper that was given to me was only a receipt, I binned it and proceeded to the platform on the top level. Unfortunately, the "receipt" turned out to be my boarding ticket and the woman at the gates said I had to return to the boleteria and get another. Honestly, why doesn't simply having a bus ticket grant me access to the bus? What is so wrong with flashing your ticket to the driver at the bus door? Do we really have to clog things with extra useless procedural steps? Sheesh. Irritated, I hurried back down to the boleteria and the boletero looked at me with a " What the hell are you doing back here? The bus is leaving!!" I cursed my poo

On the bus from Lima, Peru to Guayaquil, Ecuador, I met an Ecuadorian girl who recommended some places in Ecuador to visit. She seemed to be quite decided on her top three and told me, "Ruta del Sol, Baños and Esmeraldas. Don't forget!" So I based my route on her advice. I had no guidebook with me, no maps even of just Guayaquil and no hostel booking. I left the research for the next morning when I would search for a tourist office or tour operator. When I arrived in the evening I hopped in a cab asking for the center of town. Since I at least new that Guayaquil had a malecón (esplanade), I told the cab driver I was looking for a cheap hostel nearby and he took me to Pacifico Hostel that was in a safer neighborhood in the center. Pacífico Hostel At USD14 per night, it was a little bit on the pricier side for me, but after a long trip I was ready to pay for some quiet privacy in order to recharge. Relatively new on a quiet street, with aircon, cable tv, ensuite and hot wa

During one of our walks exploring Lima , Joe and I headed for the street where people go to get fake IDs, certificates and the like. Joe had told me about it earlier and it interested me because it was situated behind the Palace Of Justice . At first we thought we wouldn't see any dealings because it was a Sunday, but a block from the street, we were approached by a man with scars on his face. Joe told him he was interested in a fake certificate and the man invited us to sit on some chairs near his tienda stall and wait while he contacted his mate. As we waited, Joe instructed me not to talk as to give away that I was foreign and to act cool. Paranoid, the man noticed a young guy standing against the fence on the other side of the road and asked us if we knew him. Joe replied off-handedly that he was our security guard, and the man nodded in understanding. Soon, his mate arrived and discussed the details and price with Joe, and not long after that was sorted, we could barely conta

One night, Joe and I looked for a club to do a bit of dancing. We took a cab to Miraflores and scouted "Pizza Street" where a lot of pizza restaurants, cafes, bars and clubs were. Joe enquired about door charges (mostly s/.20 and usually with a jarra of beer), the price of beer and checked out what kind of music was being played before we made a decision. A club around the corner called T umbao VIP was one of the better clubs there and that night, a popular Cuban group was performing. Joe hit up the bouncer, a big black guy at the door, and was told that tickets tonight would be s/.40 each, but... for s/.40 in his pocket , he could get us both in. At first we thought that we'd get a stamp on the wrist and just flash it to (re)gain entry, so I was a little apprehensive since we wouldn't actually have tickets to prove we had paid. I knew that Joe was keen to go as he was a big fan of salsa cubana , and thought, "Sure, what the hell?" So we hung about across t

Deciding that it was time I tasted a real pollo a la brasa (rotisserie chicken), Joe led me towards a restaurant from a popular chain specializing in the Lima original recipe. But before we rounded the corner, he pulled me aside and said in all seriousness, "Look, Lani. This is how it works in these places - when a couple walks in to order, they never let you have two chicken breasts. It's always one, and the other is the leg." I protested that the thigh and the drumstick were actually my favorite parts, but he went on, "For this dish, the breast is the best, so you go in first and I'll follow later." So I went in and took a seat. The waiter handed me the menu and I saw that it was a little more expensive than we had originally planned for, but the waiter was hovering and I felt bad leaving. I could see Joe pacing across the street and considered signaling to him the "expensive" gesture, but I knew I would get caught. So I ordered, ensuring that I

From Callao, we tried another hostel in downtown Lima, within a few blocks of San Martín Plaza , cinema complexes, the shopping district, restaurants, bus stops, and around the corner from everything else; a XXX cinema, hookers' corner, gay clubs and a street Joel said was the limit between safe and unsafe neighborhoods. After a few nights, we again relocated to a place just a block from the Plaza de Armas , and near everything else. I spent a few weeks there, some days exploring the streets and walking for miles, other days visiting parks, watching movies, going to clubs, bars or just chilling out. Parks And Plazas The Circuito Magico del Agua is a beautiful large park where a dozen different water fountains are on display twice a week. From traditional style fountains to interactive ones, a couple of hours spent there was worth the small entry fee. One of the major fountains was a water jet, mist, laser, projection and music extravaganza. There was a water arch you could walk un