Travel Blog

Living for Lima…

by Gary Patrick Brown, posted in Lima, Peru, South America

If you’ve been following my blog, you probably won’t be surprised to read that the 11 hour drive to Lima was pretty spectacular. We passed through incredible mountainscapes (is that a word?) and the trash that littered previous roads gave way to a verdant valley which was being farmed. It’s intriguing to see that the farming here is still all done by hand, with nary a combine harvester in sight. Truly back-breaking work in the heat. I got to ride up front with the driver and was afforded some unforgettable vistas.

Lima is the second biggest city in South America, by population, with 8.9 million inhabitants (São Paolo is the largest with 12 million) and it felt like most of them were driving into the city at the same time as us, despite it being 3pm on a Wednesday. The city is very clean and by far the most modern on the trip up to this point. We also had the luxury of staying in a centrally located hotel which, after a few nights of hostels and campsites, was most welcomed. I was happy to be sharing a room with Sebastian, one of the guys I went rock climbing with in Baños, as it was his last night with us before flying back to Germany. I now know how the Spice Girls must’ve felt when Geri Halliwell left the band. We were also joined by some new passengers which resulted in us now having two trucks to accommodate the enlarged group. Unfortunately, this also meant that our original group would be split across the two vehicles which was a shame as we were just starting to really get to know each other.  Now we’d have to start over again with the new people. I suppose that’s the nature of a trip of this kind though and I didn’t dwell on it too much. As it was the original group’s last night together, we had a group dinner at which some awards were given out. I was nominated ‘Party Animal’, however, given that I’d not stayed out past 2230 on any night thus far, I assumed it was ironic. S’funny how a few years ago I would’ve gotten it for the right reason.

The following day, Ian, Sebastian and I spent the morning exploring the Miraflores district and the beach. I got my first sight of a Starbucks and the taste of a soy latte after three weeks of truck-stop slop was like manna from heaven.  Don’t judge me. Miraflores is a beautiful part of the city and is a strong contender for favourite place so far, although it’s heavily weighted due to the fact that the stunning, landscaped gardens are also a cat sanctuary. Thus far, South America seemed to be the domain of the stray dog, so it was nice to see some feline friends frolicking so carefree and contentedly.

Ian and I went to visit some ruins where the assigned tour guide, Jorge, imparted information with a barely concealed eyeroll. It wasn’t particularly interesting despite his antics (although I  did wolf down the best mac and cheese of my life at a nearby restaurant, so it was totally worth it) and we ended up talking a lot about our respective childhoods and relationships. It was a real bonding moment and I’m glad that Ian and I will be on the same truck all the way to Buenos Aires.

On our final evening in Lima we watched a ‘Magic Light & Water Show’ in a park near the national stadium. The amount of work that must’ve gone into choreographing to music and producing the spectacle was pretty mind-boggling and it was a great way to sign off our time here. Unfortunately, a 0430 wake up call the following morning meant that we couldn’t replicate the antics from the night before, when we gatecrashed a Peruvian open-mic rock night, but with the Peruvian football team playing New Zealand in a world cup qualifier in a few days, I’m sure there will be a chance to celebrate / commiserate* with some Pisco in the days ahead.

*delete as appropriate

A not-so-promising start in Peru…

by Gary Patrick Brown, posted in Peru, Punta Sal, South America

We left Cuenca bright and early (and with moustaches in aid of Movember) at 0700 to start the long drive south to Punta Sal in Peru, allowing us time to cross the border and reach our accommodation in good time for dinner which was being laid on for us. Having fallen in love with Ecuador, I was excited to enter a new country. My enthusiasm was slightly dampened when I saw that the relatively short queue at immigration was moving slower than a sloth. Thankfully, the line to exit Ecuador is next to the one to enter Peru and the process was painless. Neither immigration officer spoke to me, but I didn’t take it personally and was just thankful to be back on the truck within an hour.

Almost immediately upon entering Peru, it was evident that we were in a different country. Unfortunately, it wasn’t for the right reasons. There was rubbish EVERYWHERE you looked. You might say it was a blot on the landscape, but there wasn’t much landscape to speak of, just flat, scorched earth with barely a sign of life. It was quite the comedown after the incredible topography of Ecuador. After an hour’s drive, we stopped in the small town of Tumbes to eat lunch and to draw out/ exchange money. The phrase ‘if at first you don’t succeed, try, try again’ may well have been coined by the first person trying to get cash from a South American ATM. Despite the machines proudly bearing stickers showing they accepted all manner of Visa, Maestro, and Cirrus cards, the reality is somewhat different. However, after the 7th attempt, I had some nuevos sols in my pocket and could at least buy some lunch for me and Charlotte (who hadn’t been so lucky at the cashpoint). Lunch in this case was a very unsatisfying brown roll with three (yes, I counted) slithers of avocado and no butter. However, considering it cost the equivalent of €0.30, I suppose I shouldn’t complain.

Shortly after lunch, we sighted the Pacific Ocean, but the usual excitement with which the sea is usually greeted wasn’t on show as the landscape remained barren and strewn with detritus. There began some murmurings of apprehension about our upcoming stay, and I think a lot of people started to scale back their expectations. We needn’t have worried though. Almost out of nowhere, our campsite appeared and there was a visible group exhalation once we had spotted the pristine beach. We pitched our tents on the sand and cracked open some beers while marvelling at the incredible sunset that played out before us. I love sleeping by the sea and the soothing sounds of the waves soon had me in dreamland. I was disturbed at 0330 by my tentmate, Astrid, waking me up to look at the full moon and its reflection dancing on the waves. I might’ve been annoyed on any other occasion, but it was a pretty incredible scene and we chatted about how lucky we were to be on this adventure.

The entire group opted to spend the next day relaxing at the beach, unsurprising given the 11 hour journey undertaken the day before. I managed to catch up on a bit of reading but managed to persuade Ian to grab a beer at lunchtime which pretty much set the tone for the rest of the day. We chatted for a few hours before someone spotted a sea lion in the surf. I ran out to look at the magnificent creature but the site of his distended stomach and infected eyes was anything but magnificent. The mood turned somewhat sombre, especially when we discovered he was the first of three to wash up that day, along with two turtles. Despite being initially excited at the prospect of a swim, I declined to dive in on this occasion. Following a delicious beach barbecue, Astrid and I elected to pack up the tent that evening given that our departure time the following morning was at 0400. Yes, you read that correctly. Astrid managed to bag herself a bed in a cabin, while I chose to sleep in a hammock under the stars. It was incredible, unlike the wake up call at 0345.

Since then, we have travelled through some pretty cool terrain to Huanchaco and Huarez which is where I am now. At one point, the endless rice fields made me think I was back in Asia. Unfortunately, for the past few days I’ve been in bed with a dodgy tummy, so I’ve had to forgo more rock climbing and a nine hour hike to the incredible Laguna 69, so there’s not much to report. I think the culprit for my illness is the chicharrones I had during a truck picnic. I’m not too mad though as: a) they were delicious and b) I’ve lost some much needed weight. We start the drive to Lima tomorrow and I’m hoping that the rest of my time in Peru is a bit more adventurous than lying in a bunk bed with intermittent sprints to the toilet.

Cuando en Cuenca…

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

In my previous post, I said that the journey by road was the best I’d ever experienced. I lied, forgive me. The journey from Chugchilán to Cuenca has usurped the number one position on that particular chart, and I have a feeling it might be something that happens regularly over the next few months.  The journey took 11 hours on the truck, but it really didn’t feel like it at all. I was so transfixed by the journey that I forgot to take many photos.

The journey took us past the dormant volcano Chimborazo, the highest mountain in Ecuador. The summit of Mount Everest is the highest point on the Earth above sea level, while the summit of Chimborazo is the farthest place on the surface of the Earth from its exact center, due to the fact that the Earth is not a perfect sphere but instead bulges out at its equator. Chimborazo is only one degree south of the equator, while Everest is 28 degrees north. Chimborazo’s summit is therefore 2.1 kilometers farther from the Earth’s center than Everest. And here endeth today’s geography lesson.

We drove along the Quilotoa Loop and I was constantly amazed by the little towns which seemed to be plonked at random on the mountainside. At one point, we saw a village which was completely engulfed in clouds, something I’d never seen before. It was very cool.

After eleven hours we arrived in Cuenca, Ecuador’s third largest city and from my limited foray in the country, its most beautiful. The colonial buildings made me feel like I was in Madrid at times and it is by far the cleanest city I’ve visited in Ecuador. We stayed in a nice hotel in the city centre and I was glad to be put in a room with Ian and Matt, the two guys I’ve bonded with the most so far. The next day I took a sightseeing bus around the city, having not been inspired by Matt’s suggestion of a run along the river (he doesn’t know me very well obviously). It was a great way to see most of the city as we only had one full day in Cuenca which, surprisingly, is home to the Panama hat. The name originated from the fact the hats were first sent to Panama before sailing for  destinations around the globe and, therefore, acquiring a name that reflected their point of international sale rather than their place of fabrication. Gosh, I’m full of facts today. It’s almost as if I listened to the bus guide.

Here’s another one for you: the city of Cuenca has 52 churches so you can observe Sunday worship in a different church every week for a year, if you are so inclined. I’m not. There’s no denying the beauty and imposing nature of the buildings though and they fit in effortlessly with the surrounding architecture.

The bus took me to a viewpoint above the city that afforded a great view of the sprawl which is not really felt at street level. You won’t be surprised to hear that the best part of the whole day was the glorious Alaskan Malamute that I spotted during a coffee break. He was so chilled and very affectionate so naturally I left the viewpoint and spent the next twenty minutes petting him. I wonder if I can persuade my boyfriend to get a malamute when I get home in February. LOOK AT HIM!!

I also managed to find a hoody to replace the one I lost, although I’m still on the hunt for a pair of flip-flops which appear to be ever more elusive the further I travel in this continent. Who’d a thunk it?

Today is my last day in Ecuador and it’s been a great introduction to South America. I definitely want to come back and explore other areas, including the Galapagos which I wasn’t able to fit in this trip. Likes? Definitely the variety of amazing landscapes, from the towering Andes in all different hues of green and brown, to the varied cities and villages, to the biodiversity of the jungle. The people are smiley and friendly and the food has been delicious. Dislikes? Well, overtaking on the roads is a potential Olympic sport, and there were too many close calls for my liking. The absence of toilet roll in most bathrooms is also something I’ll never get used to, no matter how many reminders I’m given.

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.

Raising the heart rate in Baños…

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

Leaving the jungle behind was tough, but I soon cheered up when I started reading about the next stop: Baños. Driving through the Ecuadorian highlands, we arrived just outside in a village called Rio Verde near the Tungurahua volcano. The mountain views from the campsite are pretty special but they’re not the best thing about our accommodation for the next three nights. That honour goes to camp doggies Bambu and Rita who are both tickle monsters.

My new bestie, Astrid, and I decided to break the tour company rule of single sexed tent sharing for solo travellers and I’m so glad we did as she wakes me up with a cuppa every morning. I needed it too after discovering that my water bottle had leaked during the night leaving me with only one set of dry clothes.

Baños is an adventure junkie’s paradise so naturally on the first day I decided to treat myself to a 90 minute full body massage. The accompanying pan pipe music lost most of its soothing effect given that the front door to the salon was wide open meaning the soundtrack was punctuated with the sound of traffic and trucks reversing. The massage wasn’t entirely relaxing. After being instructed to turn onto my back, the massage therapist proceeded to blindfold me before wafting something under my nose. Anticipating that I was about to lose consciousness and be robbed, I started to get up before realising that it was in fact lavender oil and not rohypnol.

Feeling invigorated, I signed up to go rock climbing up one of the many cliffs in the canyon with three of the guys on my trip; they’re from the UK, Germany and Australia. Sebastian from Germany squirreled up the first course, something I can safely say wasn’t replicated by the rest of us. The start of the climb was really difficult as the footholds were really far apart and my little legs struggled. After four failed attempts, I had a rest and instead took over the support ropes for the others. Meda, our instructor, encouraged me to have one final attempt and somehow I made it to the summit. Abseiling down, I wore the biggest grin and felt such a sense of achievement. Ian, who has a fear of heights, decided to try again too after only previously making it halfway, and soon reached the top. It was great to see his elation at conquering a fear, and we’re all planning to go again when we reach Huarez in a couple of weeks.

On our second day in Baños, a few of us decided to try canyoning which is where you hike up a waterfall before abseiling down through the cascading water. We were in for a nasty surprise at the last waterfall however.

After such an exhilarating day, I decided to treat myself to coffee, cake and wifi. There’s a great cafe which enables you to buy food for homeless dogs, so I gave them enough for one week’s worth. It felt good to be able to help, even just a little. It’s Ken and mine’s one year anniversary today and he sent me pictures of himself reenacting our first date. Alone. It’s probably the first time since coming away that I’ve had pangs of homesickness. Thankfully lots of others in the group are in similar situations when wifi enables news from home, and they are happy to chat things through. The other climber, Matt, got engaged two weeks before he left on his six month adventure!!

Tomorrow we have a long drive day to Chugchilán via the spectacular highland scenery along the Quilotoa Loop, where we will embark upon one of the ‘most beautiful day treks in the whole of South America’.

In this jungle, this mighty jungle….

by Gary Patrick Brown, posted in Amazon Rainforest, Ecuador

Today we left sprawling Quito to experience the even greater sprawl of the Amazon rainforest.  I have conflicting emotions about the upcoming four days: on the one hand, I’m very excited to be in a place filled with incredible and unique flora and fauna, a place that I’ve longed to visit ever since my grandparents introduced me to the wonder that is David Attenborough and the BBC’s wonderful Natural History unit; on the other hand, I have a very real fear of spiders and my nervousness in this regard grew stronger as the bus wound it’s way down the mountain.

My thoughts however were soon elsewhere when our truck came to a sudden halt. Unfortunately, a lorry had crashed over the side of the mountain. It was horrific to see the mangled cab being winched back up to the road, and everyone in the group was rather shell shocked when we realised that the driver hadn’t made it out alive. It was a chastening moment and a reminder of how important it is to live life to the full and in the present. 

Naturally we were delayed for quite a while and the call of nature soon arrived. Having seen several Ecuadorians relieving themselves off the side of the mountain, I decided to do the same. I hadn’t anticipated, however, being a human shield while two ladies, to whom I’d spoken to for the first time only hours before, did the same. Yet here we were. I have to admit it was probably the best view I’ve ever had peeing and a good bonding moment. 

I’ve become besties with a 60-something Australian lady called Astrid who calls me Gary Patrick. She is fascinating and educating in equal measure and I’m already dreading saying goodbye to her when she leaves us in Santiago. She has left her husband at home on their farm while she travels alone for six months. I hope when I’m in my 60s, I have a similar continued thirst for travel. 

We drove deeper into the jungle and after six bumpy hours, we arrived at our eco-lodge. We were allocated bungalows and had time to change before embarking on a wee hike before dinner. I started to feel like I was in heaven, when in fact it seemed we were in hell: two of my fellow travellers appeared to tell us that there was a tarantula on their porch. Despite being nowhere near it (well 100ft away), a shudder went through my body. It took a little longer than usual to get to sleep that night.

Over the next couple of days we trekked through the jungle, guided by Miguel whose knowledge and sense of humour contributed to making it an amazingly interactive experience. We went spelunking in jungle caves in which whip scorpions (which looked like giant, hand-sized spiders) and bats had taken up residence. It wasn’t so bad at first, but once the roof height decreased to 1.2m, they were a little too close for comfort. It didn’t help when this happened either: 

I loved seeing leaf-cutter ants go about their business. They’re so industrious and strong and as far as ants go, pretty cute. I got a thrill seeing birds of paradise plants in the wild, rather than in a vase at home. I also spotted a furry version which I’d never seen before, but Miguel pointed out that it was actually dying due to a fungus infestation.

We boated down the Napo River, where I truly felt like we were in the heart of the jungle, to visit an animal sanctuary whose main aim was to rehabilitate the animals  in order for them to return to the wild. Some of the stories of abuse and neglect were horrifying. My partner and I have often spoken of our dream to one day run an animal shelter and the experience here has just made my desire in that regard grow ever stronger. 

Tomorrow we begin the drive out of the jungle. I actually can’t remember what’s next on the itinerary and I’ve lost track of what day it is; bliss. I just hope we get to sit on top of the truck as we did today. 

Quito-oh-oh-oh…

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

Anyone who knows me well will tell you I’m not a morning person. However, thanks to jetlag, I was awake early enough to witness an amazing sunrise in Quito. Unfortunately, I was a little non compos mentis at this hour and didn’t think to take some snaps in time, although the short video above should give you an idea.

I decided to get up and explore the city while it was still relatively cool. Unfortunately, I’m something of a sweater – as my friends who celebrated my recent birthday will attest to, and unlike my friend, Steffen, who can dance for hours without producing nary a bead of sweat – and it took all of forty minutes before the combination of the Old Town’s steep inclines and the altitude persuaded me to take it easy for the rest of the day. Thankfully, Ecuadorian Netflix has season three of How to Get Away with Murder (take note Netherlands) and I was happy to spend the evening in the company of the wonderful Viola Davis.

I awoke the next morning feeling much better, and by that I mean it no longer felt like an elephant was sitting on my chest, so I decided to go for a hike in the surrounding mountains. I took a cab to the TelefériQo, a cable car which takes you a further 4,000 feet higher (the second highest cable car in the world no less), and to the starting point for the walk. Coming from Amsterdam where taxi fares are the 6th most expensive in the world, I struggled to keep the shock from my expression when the driver charged me the grand sum of $3.

I’d read online that the queues for the cable car can be up to an hour long, but due to my early arrival I was the only one in my carriage and was whisked straight to the top. Many reviews online commented on how the increase in altitude can be tough, so I spent some time sitting down while looking at the incredible views of the sprawling city and surrounding volcanos from this vantage point of 13,500ft, but after 10 minutes I felt no worse and decided to explore a bit further afield. During the next two hours spent hiking on the mountain, I only saw four other people. One guy was determined to get to the top but I wasn’t confident I had the required four hours of additional hiking in me so I descended.

I spent the afternoon relaxing (read: gulping in air) before heading out to try some Ecuadorian food for the first time. One of the things I had been most looking forward to on this trip was trying a range of cuisines of which I didn’t have much experience. So I bypassed the restaurant offering burgers for $1 and ended up at La Purisima which wasn’t too far from the apartment. After negotiating the una mesa para uno por favor, I was excited to see a menu filled with local dishes. I plumped for an appetizer of bonitisimas, a traditional savoury Ecuadorian dish of black corn encasing a potato and cream cheese filling, followed by Chancho ahumado como en Quinindé. That’s smoked oven roasted brisket to you and me. The pork was served in a potato, egg and mint ‘sauce’ which at first I was a bit wary of, but it was pretty nice. Egg and mint, who knew?! I decided to walk the meal off back to the apartment, although some streets seemed a little sketchy in the dark so I quickened my pace up the hills. Not my best idea given that I spent the next 20 minutes gasping for breath on the stairwell before heading to bed. 

Today is my last day in Quito and I’ve really enjoyed the past few days, despite the altitude headaches. Everyone I’ve interacted with has been friendly and accommodating of my appalling Spanish. A smile never seems far from their lips either. I’ve also liked feeling tall for a change, something that never happens back home in the Netherlands where the average male stands at 6ft / 184cm.

This evening I met with my fellow tour group travellers and it’s the first night of room sharing. Fingers crossed I don’t snore. Check in was slightly bizarre in that not only was I given a key (attached to a maraca naturally) but also a remote control for the TV. We set off early doors tomorrow to drive into the Amazon for some jungle trekking. I have a great fear of spiders having been subjected to the film Arachnophobia in my formative years, and generally enquire of men on a first date if they can handle the eight-legged nightmares on my behalf should we ever end up living together.  Needless to say, I didn’t get second dates very often. Fingers crossed we don’t come across any tarantulas in the next four days, or if we do, that someone in the group doesn’t mind a strange British man grabbing onto them for dear life!

Tres, dos, uno…ya!

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

The day has finally arrived! My South American adventure starts here, although it very nearly didn’t thanks to Amsterdam’s public transport, but that’s a story for another day.  I waved goodbye to my teary partner at Schiphol – who got even more teary once he’d returned home to discover that I’d left him a box containing a note for every day I’m away – and boarded my KLM flight to Quito, where I’d spend the next 11 hours feeling queasy from the boozy fumes emanating from the Russian man I was seated next to who was quaffing multiple cans of Heineken like it was Sprite.  I guess this isn’t surprising given that beer was classified as a soft drink in Russia until 2013. No really, look it up.

I usually sleep on planes but I found myself enthralled by a Dutch movie called Brasserie Valentijn. The whole movie takes place in a restaurant on Valentine’s Day and is a very clever observation on relationships. It’s styling and quirkiness reminded me of the French film Huit Femmes (Eight Women). I highly recommend both. I struck out early on the Dutch movie front however as the next two I viewed weren’t quite so good: Mannen Harten (Manly Hearts) is a watchable comedy with a Love Actually-esque feel about it; Broers (Brothers) was not so watchable and I switched off at halfway. I also watched Snatched, a comedy starring Amy Schumer and Goldie Hawn in which they get kidnapped. In Ecuador. Good choice Gary.

Towards the end of the flight, we were rewarded with stunning views of the Andes. I was somewhat surprised when we touched down as I hadn’t anticipated landing on top of a mountain! From disembarking the plane to getting in a taxi took all of 15 minutes. The immigration staff were welcoming and friendly with big smiles – take note United States – and I exited the airport sporting a similarly wide grin. The drive to Quito was spectacular, although I was somewhat perturbed when we turned off the smooth highway to continue on a broken, narrow road up the mountainside. After a suspension-testing five minutes, I was thinking that it’s a good job buses don’t use this route given the limited width of the road, when I looked up to see that hurtling towards us was in fact a big green bus. My taxi driver coped admirably and was also very friendly, pointing things out to me in Spanish to which I dutifully nodded while confidently saying ‘vale, vale‘.

Given that over the next few months I will be mainly camping in the wild, camping in campsites or staying in hostels, I decided to treat myself to a nice apartment for the first few days while I acclimatise. I arrived at my AirBnB digs and upon entering I vowed never to leave.  To be greeted with a jacuzzi bath and an incredible view of Quito after the long journey from Amsterdam nearly made me cry. The owner actually lives in Brussels but the security guard, Segundo – which I subsequently learned means ‘second’ in Spanish  – showed me around and was obviously used to dealing with overly emotional gringos, handling my wonderment with barely concealed bemusement. Segundo doesn’t speak English, but with a combination of hand gestures, my French language ability and the smattering of Spanish I know from warbling along to Josh Groban and J-Lo songs, we managed to communicate adequately. 

Having settled in I walked to the local supermercado to stock the kitchen for the next few days, but I hadn’t quite bargained for how steep the streets are in the Old Town. It made sense given the view I’d been afforded, but my brain wasn’t working too well at this point.  Quito is 9,350 feet above sea level, while Amsterdam is 6 feet below sea level, and the difference it makes is astonishing. After just two hours, I developed a headache and was struggling to take in enough oxygen, so I decided to drink in the view rather than another cerveza and get an early night.

My plan was, however, scuppered by the neighbourhood perros who are not only numerous, but very vocal. I love dogs and have managed to persuade my partner to allow us to have one upon my return from this trip (no takesies-backsies Ken!) but this cacophonous canine choir was not conducive to sleep. Thus, I sought out the amazing earplugs I recently bought in Amsterdam having discovered them when I needed something to combat the noise from my new upstairs neighbours who, shortly after moving in, were enthusiastically christening every room at very frequent intervals. Anyway, after ten minutes of searching, the sad realisation dawned on me that I had left the silicon silencers in my bathroom at home. Thankfully, jetlag welcomed me into her embrace and I fell into a much needed nine-hour slumber, feeling excited and nervous about what the next 102 days have in store for me.

Giethoorn – the ‘Venice of the North’…

by Gary Patrick Brown, posted in Europe, Netherlands

I moved to the Netherlands in June 2014 and vowed that I would do my utmost to visit as much of the country as possible if I was going to call it home. I soon learned of a village called Giethoorn in the Overijssel province. It is inaccessible by car and has plenty of walking and cycling trails, but more excitingly, canals for boating. Now, you may be struggling to see the appeal for an Amsterdammer to go somewhere like Giethoorn considering that my home city is not exactly lacking in canal action itself and which also bears the moniker of ‘Venice of the North’ – why come up with a new name when this one can, quite frankly, be applied to almost every Dutch city? Anyway, I digress.

My boyfriend’s birthday was fast approaching and we had discussed going away somewhere for a few days. Respite was much needed having just spent four days in my one-bedroom apartment in the company of my mum, sister and nephew, so the pictures of Giethoorn conjured up what I thought would be the perfect tonic.

I approached a couple of Dutch friends and colleagues asking for recommendations and they were nothing if not consistent in their advice: “don’t bother going, it’s full of Chinese tourists”. Unbeknownst to the Dutchies, however, this was actually a draw for me having spent the last three years feeling like a midget in this land of blonde giants. It’s also why Japan remains my favourite holiday destination, that and, well, everything else. Although if I never saw another squat toilet it’d be too soon. I thought I had the requisite thigh strength, but the splash back confirmed otherwise. No wonder the Japanese live so long though; they’re super supple.

I booked a room at Chateauhotel de Havixhorst which turned out to be nothing like a chateau. Or a hotel for that matter if it’s lack of toiletries, mini bar and room service were anything to go by. It was however conveniently located near Giethoorn and we set off in our rented wheels.

The following day we drove the 20 minutes to the outskirts of Giethoorn, admiring the many storks in the neighbouring fields which were protected in the area. We found this out thanks to a kindly old woman who humoured our basic Dutch having struck up a conversation in the hotel bar one night. Unlike her husband, who was rather rude when I got stumped on a word and switched to English. Thankfully I’m fluent in eye-rolling.

We picked up our handmade, wooden ‘fluisterboot’ which glided silently through the calm waters and after a simple demonstration we set sail. Without a sail, natch. After a couple of hours we still hadn’t seen a Chinese tourist (as you can see from the below video), but we did see what all the fuss about; Giethoorn is simply stunning. Each dwelling on it’s own little island with well kept gardens (you’d have to really with all the gawpers) overflowing with rhodedendrons.

It was also really cool teaching our dog, Max, to swim.

We were allowed to keep the boat for nine hours and took full advantage, exploring all three of the recognised routes. We decided to navigate the main canal line one more time as sunset was approaching and I thought we’d get some Instagram-worthy pictures. But what is that I see over the bow? Why, it’s a million Chinese tourists, 999,999 of whom had never driven a boat if the carnage below was anything to go by.

It was time to return the boat and drive back to the hotel and avoid the mean old man. Unfortunately the lack of a mini-bar in our room (I promise I’m over it now) meant that we had to chance the communal bar but thankfully he was nowhere in sight. In fact, no one was, so we clinked our glasses in peace and toasted an awesome day in a beautiful part of this awesome country. I think I did pretty well for a first birthday present all in all.

Queenstown: Jumping for joy…

by Gary Patrick Brown, posted in New Zealand, Oceania

My upcoming sabbatical was originally meant to begin with a trip to visit my friend, Lynsey, in New Zealand for round two of shenanigans that previously occurred when I visited her in 2015. Unfortunately, work commitments mean that I can only take four months away from the office and therefore Aotearoa was culled from my itinerary.

As part of the preparations for my upcoming holiday, I’m transferring photos from previous travels off my camera in order to make space and I came across some from an amazing holiday in the Land of the Long White Cloud which got me reminiscing. It was made amazing thanks to several friends who put me up – and who put up with me! – and Lynsey in particular.

When I moved to the Netherlands following the break up of my relationship, she was the first person to visit me. She made me giggle so much that for a moment I could forget that my life was headed in a direction I had never imagined just a few months earlier, when instead my head was filled with possible wedding venues. Our friendship was cemented after almost getting run over by a massive tourist boat while cruising along the canals of Amsterdam in a tin-can of a vessel, followed by dancing all of the next day at a beach festival in Bloemendaal, where we seemed to be the only patrons whose eyes were dilated the normal amount.

I should probably warn you at this point that this post may* contain rather a lot of photographs. If you ever go to New Zealand, you’ll understand.

*definitely will

Shortly after visiting me in Amsterdam, Lynsey began her own adventure, moving to New Zealand by herself to live a life that she’d always dreamed. Just another reason why I’m a little bit in love with her. She lives in the moment and is never complacent. She’s one of the strongest people I know and her mettle was severely tested after a few weeks in New Zealand as she was unable to immediately work in her job as a physio due to issues with her paperwork. One day, we were sharing a cup of Yorkshire Tea the only way two immigrants in different countries can: over Skype. Despite putting the world to rights, I got the sense that Lynsey was finding the adjustment to life in New Zealand a struggle. Beautiful scenery, even that as stunning as one can find in Queenstown, can only do so much to combat the loneliness felt by a recent immigrant, something I knew too well having spent many an evening wandering along the canals of Amsterdam by myself, feeling more isolated that I ever had before. Having hung up with promises to speak again soon, I went online to see how much flights were to Queenstown, and after spending, oooh, all of two minutes debating whether I could afford it without having to sell a kidney, I realised that some things are more important than money, so I texted Lynsey and told her to pop the kettle on* and I’d see her in a few weeks.

*disclaimer – they do have electricity in New Zealand and it doesn’t take a few weeks to boil a kettle in order to make a cup of tea, but it’s a figure of speech so just humour me. Thank you.

Given that I was travelling to the other side of the world, I decided to stretch out my visit – under the guise of buying myself a present for my own birthday as I was single and lonely and nobody else, after all, was going to buy me anything – and began with a few days visiting friends in Sydney, after which I hopped on the plane to Queenstown.

The various flights I took over New Zealand were the most incredible I’ve ever experienced. I stared out of the window as we swept over vista upon amazing vista, so much so that I got a crick in my neck. Upon disembarking, Lynsey was there to greet me with her wonderful smile and I immediately felt that amazing sensation of being in the company of someone who just ‘gets’ you. This feeling of contentment was, however, in danger of dissipating rather briskly when instead of driving me to the nearest open bottle of wine for a natter, Lynsey thought it would be ‘fun’ – her words, not mine – to first go for a hike up Queenstown Hill. A hike! I’d just schlepped four hours on a plane, and let’s not forget the 24 hours I’d spent on planes just a few days previously to get to that side of the planet in the first place. However, following a quick change in a public car park, using both Lynsey and the car door as a modesty curtain, my tiredness soon ebbed away as with each step taken, the view became more and more stunning.

We soon reached the summit, where we were greeted by the ‘Basket of Dreams’, which seemed rather apt considering that after just a few hours on New Zealand soil my dreams were indeed coming true. We treated ourselves to a lay down and a wee natter before we re-energised ourselves in our favourite manner: JUMPING!

I discovered how fun jumping could be when on a weekend break to Warsaw with my then flatmates in 2009. It was freezing cold and raining, but after ten too many vodka shots – why, oh why, would you flavour vodka with chilli‽‽ – it seemed a legitimate way to keep warm. Especially as it took about 20 minutes to get the shot given the fact that this was in the pre-smartphone days and digital cameras had only just been invented!!

Over the course of the next week, Lynsey chauffered me around this gorgeous part of the south island (the benefits of not knowing how to drive). We took a dip in the waters of Lake Wakatipu which, despite the blazing sun and cloudless sky was, in actual fact, make-your-bollocks-fly-back-up-into-your-body-so-fast-you-can-barely-breathe cold.

We kayaked in the fjords of Milford Sound, well, I kayaked. Lynsey spent most of the time perving on our instructor slash guide slash eye-candy. We threw out gender stereotypes in Te Anau when the car needed an oil change and Lynsey rolled up her sleeves while I scoffed crisps in the passenger seat.

We hiked up Mount Iron to gaze out over the beautiful town of Wanaka. And we jumped. We jumped at every opportunity, because there’s no way one can jump with a friend and not feel exhilirated and happy. And isn’t that how friendships should be? If you don’t have a friend with whom you can jump with, just holler, you know where I am.

I’m gutted that I won’t get to see Lynsey during my sabbatical, but I’m hoping to revisit Queenstown next year, this time during winter so that we can jump while doing our favourite activity together besides necking wine: skiing. Well, snowboarding for her because she’s much cooler than I am. Not that she embodied coolness that time in Rome when we were belting out Whitney’s ‘I Wanna Dance with Somebody’ so enthusiastically that we broke the hotel bed on which we were dancing, but that’s a blog for another time, although the photos below should help you begin to understand how we found ourselves in that particular pickle…..