Tag: writing

The end of the road in Buenos Aires…

by Gary Patrick Brown, posted in Argentina, Buenos Aires, South America

After nearly four months, the day had arrived: reaching Buenos Aires (hereafter BA) signalled the final stretch on my trip. It’s also the end of the road for many of my fellow passengers who joined us in Santiago, with an intrepid few continuing on to celebrate carnival in Rio. I can’t think of a better place to call it a day than BA, it’s a truly magical city. At times, I’ve struggled with unfamiliarity while I’ve been away, but that disappears in BA which, with its outdoor cafe culture, wide pavements and European aura, it felt like coming home. The architecture definitely has an air of Paris or Madrid about it, and if I spoke Spanish, I’d certainly feel like I could live here.

We were staying in the microcenter, a great base from which to explore. As my first full day was a Sunday, I spent the time wandering the markets in San Telmo, taking in the sights and sounds of the bustling barrio. That night we had a final group dinner and gave out awards, compered by me and another guy from our truck, Grant. Although some were a bit risqué, everyone accepted them in good grace. I was unsurprised to win the ‘Humanitarian Dogging’ award, earned on account of always giving away my truck food entitlement to the local pooches.

The following day I explored the centre of the city, saving myself for what was to come that evening: La Bomba di Tiempo or Timebomb, a drumming troupe who performed in an enclosed, open air space that resembled a junk yard, minus the junk. I knew it would be a good night when the beers arrived in glasses as big as one’s head. It was everything I thought a night out in BA would be: fun, sweaty and full of dancing. I ended up chatting to a Japanese guy who was hammered and easily impressed with my basic Japanese language skills, and a US marine who had led a very interesting life.

No porteños unfortunately. The best part of the night however was after the gig had finished and the drummers played on the streets while leading everyone to the after party. There are beer vendors walking with the crowds, which probably explains the horrific hangovers a lot of people suffered from the next day. My flip flops busted four times during the course of the evening, but thankfully a guy from our truck, Luke, was a hero, fixing them for me each time. I got back at 0300 and spent the next hour trying to book a hotel room for my final night in BA. Let’s just say it didn’t go well. The poor night receptionist had to help me with the Spanish keyboard more than should’ve been necessary.

The following day I went on a day trip to Uruguay (blog post here) and returned to BA in the evening for dinner with some of the ladies from the trip who I’m very happy to say have become good friends. It wasn’t a late one on account of my 0500 wake up call for my wee trip to Iguazú Falls (blog post here), but it was a lovely sign off.

On my return from Iguazú, I splurged (well, spent €120 on a room rather than €25) and treated myself to a night in a nice hotel. It didn’t disappoint; the room was as big as my apartment in Amsterdam, which made sense when the porter reminded me I was in the Junior Suite. Damn you brain for booking something when a bit tipsy.

I was in for another surprise too; an ex-boyfriend who now lives in New Zealand was in the city for work and had seen my photos on social media, and we managed to meet up for a nightcap on our last night. Small world huh? It was so nice to catch up after so long.

So, my almost four months in South America have come to an end. I’ve learned so much. It’s hard to articulate how much I’ve gained from this trip, and I’d like to think that I have given something back to this wonderful continent. Well, its dogs at least. Four months isn’t anywhere near long enough to do this place justice, and I’d love to return at some point in the future to explore further. The Andes have been my constant companion throughout my journey and I’ve been amazed at how different they are in each country I’ve visited. They, and the jungle, feel like the beating heart of the continent and must be looked after. I’ve been consistently treated to scenery like none I’ve ever experienced before. Yes, some is reminiscent of New Zealand, but the continuity of amazing landscape after amazing landscape is something else.

Alpacas > guanacos > llamas. That is all.

I’ve loved having so much interaction with dogs during my trip. They are so docile and just want tickles.  I’ve not seen any aggression, and it seems the further south you go, the fewer strays you see.  I can count on one hand the number of cats I’ve seen.

I wish I had dedicated more time to leaning Spanish, although I’m surprised by how far I’ve gotten with my limited vocabulary. Being able to speak French has come in very handy though as three are lots of similarities.

Argentina – best coffee

Peru – best food

Bolivia – best people

Ecuador – best value for money

Chile – best scenery

Brazil – best waterfalls (contentious I know)

Uruguay – best wine

It’s honestly impossible to choose a favourite place. Baños in Ecuador definitely gave me food for thought. As I approach being forty, I wonder what next for me? I love my job, but would like to do something that feels a bit more worthy.  I’ve also toyed with the idea of being my own boss and either setting up a cafe, or an animal shelter. In Baños, there is a business that combines both and it was a joy to spend time there. When I return to Amsterdam, as a first step, I’m going to dedicate time to improving my Dutch so that I am able to volunteer at my local animal shelter, And then perhaps see what happens after that.

What else have I learned? Well, my tolerance for bad manners is now minimal, although unlike before when I would quietly tut in true British fashion, I now call out that behaviour.  Perhaps I’m becoming more Dutch in that regard. I also learned that I can poo literally anywhere anytime, although I’m not sure that’s a skill I’ll be calling on much back home in Europe. This trip showed me that travelling really is good for the soul and mental health, and I feel refreshed, revitalised and looking forward to coming home. It also makes one appreciate what one has at home.

I’m lucky enough to have an amazing partner in Ken, and although I know he’s struggled a bit in my absence, moving to Amsterdam without knowing anyone or the language, he’s never once not supported me, and actively encouraged me to pursue this experience. A month ago he tweeted that he’d like to go to Stockholm in Sweden to see the subway stations – yes, I did re-evaluate our relationship when I saw the tweet – so Ken, to say thanks, pack your bags because we’re going on Monday! Love you long time.

This is my final blog post, at least for a while. It’s been fun to write, although at times I lagged behind due to a combination of lack of good WiFi and actually doing things, so apologies for that! I hope it’ll serve as a reminder of all the great experiences I’ve had on this trip, and if anyone is considering doing something similar, feel free to get in touch for more detailed information. Adios.

Quaffing wines in Cafayate…

by Gary Patrick Brown, posted in Argentina, Cafayate, South America

Having spent two incredible days in Chile, it was time to head to Argentina, but thankfully the final seven weeks of my trip will be spent criss-crossing the two countries and I’m already looking forward to seeing more of Chile. After a short drive, we crossed the border at Paso Jama. Well, we attempted to cross the border, but the Argentinean authorities weren’t playing ball for some unknown reason so we went back to the truck and entertained ourselves by eating lunch and playing football. After some enquiries by the tour leaders, we were eventually allowed to drive through, some three hours after arriving. It was then another six hours or so on the road to Salta where we would stay for a couple of nights. I wasn’t feeling particularly energetic during our time there, although I was entertained watching a Manchester United fan watch the Manchester derby in a local bar (they lost, hurrah!).

We then drove through the spectacular rock formations of the Quebrada de las Conchas, with a night’s bush camping on the way, to reach the peaceful town of Cafayate. The small town is the centre of one of Argentina’s principal wine producing regions, famous for the quality of its Torrentes and Tannat wines, although I wasn’t a fan of either. However, just to make sure, we went to a local producer, Piatelli, for a delicious lunch and wine tasting.

My roommate, Riley, doesn’t drink and the waiting staff didn’t realise to begin with, but I ensured no wine went to waste. The grounds of the vineyard were beautifully kept and it felt like a real treat, especially given that we were staying at a very basic campsite that evening. However, THE BEST THING TO EVER HAPPEN IN MY 38 YEARS HAPPENED THERE!

There were a few dogs at the campsite and, as usual, they were very placid and friendly. One bitch seemed to take a particular liking to me and as we left to go to the supermarket she decided to follow. At one point, she ran off barking at another dog on the opposite side of the road, but with one yell from me she came back to us. I was pleasantly surprised. Upon arriving at the supermarket, I assumed she’d sit outside awaiting our return, BUT NO! SHE CAME INTO THE SUPERMARKET WHILE I SHOPPED.

I never want to shop any other way. It’s really lovely to see how well dogs are treated here (well, the further south you go from Ecuador at least). You see them hanging around in and outside of stores and there are often old food containers full of water for them.

It would be hard to top that day a.k.a. the best day of my life, but thankfully the next three days would be spent on a working estancia which meant horse riding and multiple doggies. The dogs on the farm were all super friendly, especially Clyde, one of the border collies who was addicted to playing football and could run around all day. I particularly liked one of the old black labradors who would roll over for belly rubs if you dared to pass within ten feet of her. Needless to say, I was generally found laying within two feet of her at most times.

On the first night we were treated to a tasting of wines which were grown nearby, along with a competition to see who had the best nose. Our host produced multiple mini-bottles of scents commonly found in wine – from something called Le Nez du Vin – and we all had to guess its identity. Ian won the champagne prize on a tiebreaker of rose after several of us drew. It was a very entertaining and engrossing evening with lots of fun debate over the smells: “it’s burnt toast, no it’s oak, no it’s caramel”.

The following day we explored the estancia on horseback. That is as long as you weighed under 95kg. The public weigh-in was somewhat embarrassing, especially as I came out as the heaviest rider at 90kg! I was more distressed that despite all the activities I’ve done over the past couple of months, I’ve actually gained weight! I wonder if there’s a parasite I can host for a couple of weeks to shift some pounds. The horse ride was a lot of fun, galloping across the surrounding hillsides felt so far away from my daily life in Amsterdam, which I guess is kinda the point of this trip. I used to ride in the school holidays as my aunt stabled some horses and it soon came back to me. I quickly remembered how much I loved being on horseback and I’m looking forward to more opportunities while on the trip. There’s also a riding school in Amsterdam which is very close to my apartment so I think I’ll check it out when I get home.

After the estancia, we headed to Mendoza, the wine capital of Argentina, however, beyond cranking out a blog post over a Starbucks soy latte one morning, I spent most of my time making friends with the hostel toilet. Perhaps my parasite wish came true after all!!

The one and only picture I took in Mendoza

Calamities (yes, plural) in Chugchilán…

by Gary Patrick Brown, posted in Chugchilán, Ecuador, South America

I’m never a fan of a 5am wake up call, especially when it’s followed by cooking breakfast for 22 people and packing up a tent, but thankfully, help was at hand for both tasks. Once completed, we set off on the seven hour drive to altitudinous Chugchilán, a small village on the slopes of the Rio Toachi Canyon. 

The drive along the Quilotoa Loop was like no other; the winding roads climb ever upwards and the views of the patchwork verdancy were truly spectacular. I lost count of the number of times I heard a fellow passenger utter superlatives. We were soon brought back to reality, however, when we saw the road ahead of us:

You don’t need me to tell you how terrifying that sight was, especially given our previous encounter with a truck that ran off the road and over the mountainside. Thankfully our tour leaders, James and Jas, negotiated the collapsed road via a gravel path off to the side and my heart rate returned to normal. I was thankful that we wouldn’t have to see that section of road again (although it turned out we would indeed cross it twice more over the coming days).

Arriving at our digs, I was greeted by the best sight imaginable: a pooch who soon calmed my nerves. Hostel Cloud Forest is definitely the best of the trip so far: I had my own room with a double bed; two hammocks outside the room; a lounge and games room with two pool tables and ping pong; and very friendly staff. Feeling tired, both physically and emotionally, I allowed myself a wee siesta before dinner and plonked my bags down before burrowing under the five provided blankets, a rather ominous sign of the impending plummeting temperature.

I awoke before my alarm and for a moment my befuddled mind couldn’t work out why. Thankfully, my olfactory organs kicked into gear, identifying the rather acrid smell of burning plastic. It seemed the incongruous looking water pipe that ran through the ceiling and floor was in fact a chimney, and had been steadily heating up thanks to the fire in the lounge room below. I grabbed my backpack from where it had been leaning against the chimney, and discovered that not only had one of the clasps been completely melted, and a side pocket burned, but the handles on my day knapsack, which had been stored in the aforementioned pocket, had also been completely burned through, rendering it useless. I also realised that I had also lost my favourite hoody somewhere between Baños and Chugchilán. All in all, not the best day ever.

There were several catalysts for me to take this sabbatical: approaching the age my father was when he died; being off work and unwell for seven weeks last summer; and the tragic passing of my good friend Tom after multiple battles with cancer. Tom was one of the most amazing men I’ve ever met: driven, kind, funny, an amazing husband and father, with the ability to talk to anyone. His greatest gift however was making you feel special. Tom, and his wife Taffy, were two of my coaches when I played netball for the England national team, but more importantly, amazing friends.

Despite being a giant softy away from the court, Tom was a demon on it, always pushing us to be the best we could be. Tom once told me that it doesn’t matter whether you play an amazing match or if you perform badly. What matters is that at the final whistle, you walk off the court knowing that you gave everything possible until you had nothing left. It was rather fitting therefore that on the one year anniversary of Tom’s death, it was his voice ringing in my ear in South America when I undertook the biggest physical challenge of my life to date.

Now, it sounds rather silly once I tell you that this ‘challenge’ was a 10km hike. However, trekking up and down the ridges of Lake Quilotoa, for nearly seven hours at an altitude of 3,600m above sea level, was like nothing else I’ve experienced. Thankfully, the incredible views made it all worth it, and I loved having Tom there with me, even if only in spirit (and his whining voice making fun of me), to help me through the last 90 minutes which were the toughest.

Tom, it doesn’t matter where I am in the world, you’ll always be with me, encouraging me, annoying me and making me laugh at inappropriate moments. I love you buddy.