one leg each

Potosi, Bolivia

There are not many cities in the world where 2 people can eat for 50p, hold a lit stick of dynamite, come face to face with the devil, all the while being some 4km above sea level – in fact, where else can it be other than the worlds highest city, Potosi.

4k above sea level, or a 60" skydive freefall  

Potosi once laid claimed to being the richest city in the world, the wealth coming directly from the silver lined Cerro Rico Mountain that dominates the city from virtually every angle. The Spanish certainly got their fill from the mountain, putting in place mining practices 500 years ago that, would you believe, are still very much in place today.

A tour down into the cooperative mines had been on our list way before we’d set foot in the country and ranks as one of the strangest activities we’d done. The tour started with getting kitted out with the necessary mining gear, something that Faye carried off rather better than I.

Mining chic  

We then took a ride to the market, where we bought gifts for the miners. This included coca leaves (essential for countering fatigue & hunger during the brutal 12 hour shifts underground) fizzy pop and because it was a Friday, the 96% proof alcohol needed to get the end of work party started.

Llama blood! 

Entering the eerie black hole, we passed the Llama blood stained entrance and into the working mine. We knew conditions within were appalling and were responsibly for many deaths from silicosis pneumonia, but we couldn’t be in better care, our guide having worked the mines as a boy from 10-15.

Our guide - can you imagine being told to "get down pit" when you're 10 years old 

It wasn’t long before we were face down, pulling ourselves through mine shafts & climbing rickety ladders while trying not to breath in the dusty air, not easy when the oxygen is so thin. We saw how some miners still used a hammer and metal rod to make a cylindrical hole (3 hours work) big enough to hold the dynamite to hopefully discover a precious mineral vein. We all had a go at this and no one lasted more than 20 sec, respect levels soaring further for the miners.

The black abyss 

This being South America the miners are of course, gold old church folk, but once underground they pray to an altogether different god, they worship the devil himself. Our tour ended with a trip to meet the man himself, but not until we ascended back up 3 levels and out of the stifling 40 degree heat. This was by far the toughest part of the 4 hours we spent underground, the air was thin with oxygen but thick with dust – it burnt our lungs as we crawled on all fours back up to the exit level and our meeting with El Diablo.

Maybe it was because it was a Friday, but he seemed to be in a decent mood as we offered him coco leaves, shoved a ciggie in his mouth and enjoyed the burning sensation of drinking alcohol so strong it would make a tramp blush!

He's not that scary, not really 

Breathing in the clean air once outside really drove home just how bad it was inside, but it was sobering to witness a crew of miners enter the dark abyss and you remember that far from being a tour this is a way of life for so many people.

 

What better way to forget about the harsh realities of life, than to blow up some dynamite – even better holding the thing for 5 seconds before someone ran off and burrried it in the side of the mountain! BANG!

Was it 5 or 10 seconds, I can't remember... 

RUN!!!

It was VERY loud... and fun!  

“Lions and Tigers and Bears, Oh My!”

Well, not exactly. We were in the Amazon after all, not on the Yellow Brick Road. But nonetheless, it did promise to deliver on the wild animal spotting front, be that “Pirhanas and Alligators and Pumas, Oh My!”

We set off in our little wooden boat on the chocolately brown Beni and within minutes were spotting literally hundreds of alligators, big and small, lining the banks of the river. "Ali" and their friends, the gang-banging turtles, were to be our most familiar sight over the next few days.

 
Turtle Power!

The trick was to spot and interact with the wildlife, whilst maintaining all your appendages and bodily functions! We have all heard about that parasite lurking in the Amazon that likes to swim up your wee and cause havoc with your internal organs! But after taking on board the sheer volume of beady eyes lining the surface of the water, I thought there would be no chance of braving a cooling swim….I was wrong, About five minutes after Rob fed this alligator a stringy bit of chicken, our guides thought it would be a good idea to take a swim with it!

 
Lunchtime (his or ours?)

Admittedly, as this picture shows, there wasn’t much swimming going on so much as people looking off fearfully in every possible direction, plus a couple of standard fake “alligators got me” death throes!

 
Fraidy cats in the water

Our next dice with death was a hunt through a stinking bog in search of the elusive anaconda. As my wellies filled up with putrifying marsh slime and unrelenting bugs dive bombed my face, I thought to myself that this is the moment I will have to remember when I am complaining about being back at home!

Luckily, a beady eyed German caught sight of a sleeping anaconda 10 minutes into our squelchy search and so we all waded over to take a look. Whether by a cunning self-defence system or fortuitous good luck, the snake had positioned itself directly next to hornets nest…….5 minutes into our look-see a screaming Israeli had triggered the burgular alarm system – covered in wasps, he attempted to make his flailing, screaming escape whilst we all looked on in shocked horror!

Unfortunately for the snake, he was already being lined up for his photo shoot but am sure he still chalked that one up as a victory!

 
At one with nature 

 
Rob handling his, ahem, snake!

When our guide broached the subject of potentially catching a small alligator for a picture opportunity, the PC eco-warriers were drowned out by a resounding “Yeah!” It was night-time and we were given our orders to shine our torches on the banks to catch the eyes of a suitably photogenic specimen. Our guide pulled up the boat and disappeared off into the bush. A scuffle or two later and he emerged triumphant with a metre long ‘gator held firmly by the jaw.

We all shuffled round the boat for our close up with smiler. I am sure this aside with nature wasn’t in the western version of the gamekeepers hand book – but it sure as hell was fun!

 
Steve Irwin eat your heart out

The start of the next day our task was to find a shadey spot, passing some pink dolphins on the way, to partake in a spot of pirhana fishing. Little lines with bloody chunks of meat were cast over the side and it wasn’t long before they came a chomping!

 
Jaws

We took the little blighters home and fried them up whole for our dinner.

 
You gotta eat him, before he eat you!

The next few days passed in blur of Steve Irwin style adventure. From spotting the worlds largest rat, the capybara, to the monkey mahem that ensued when we offered them a banana!

 
Having second thoughts about feeding the monkeys!

 
Capybara standing sentry!

Throw in a couple of awesome sunrises, sunsets and more birds than you can shake a stick at and you got yourself an Amazonian pampas tour!

 
Two-can toucans

The sunsetting on our pampas tour

Salar de Uyuni

There are some people in life that really put you off a nation, in a way that someone throwing up in your plate would put you off eating that food for life. Having visited Oz we’ve seen the best it has to offer, however a mysteriously evil hand must have picked up this horrid Occa pair and planted them in our cramped jeep to test our will!

So it’s a good job that the Salt Flats of Uyuni are so bizarre, so utterly unique that it is possible to forget about people and just stare slack jawed at the landscape. 

Salt, lots of it

Even if this arid, blindingly white vista eventually drove us a little crazy and I regret that I turned on Faye and even took to stamping on her and squashing her in my hat.

She probably deserved it 

Swat! 

This 3 day tour took us to the edge of the mountainous Chilean border, where we discovered there was a continuing trade of stolen Toyota Land Cruisers in return for cocaine between the two bitter nations. There is certainly no love lost between Bolivia and Chile, born out of fights over borders that Bolivia always seemed to loose.

The mountainous Chilean border

Our guide, Oscar, gave great insight into the history of Bolivia, including the colours on the flag (Red, for all the blood lost in boarder wars, yellow for the abundant gold and green for the huge rain forest) and gave the first of many conflicting views on Evo Morales, the controversial Bolivian president. Bolivia is without doubt the poorest country we’d visited and it is jarring to hear the people speak about the abundant natural resources, only for previous corrupt governments to sell practically the entire country off to outside private investors.

Blood, Gold and Rain Forest 

Our drive through the bleak, desolate Bolivian desert provided time for contemplation wedged in between views unattainable anywhere else on our trip. Where else can you drive into a semi active Volcano crater and jump through plums of steaming air.

The semi active Volcano crater 

 It really is something of a tragedy that a country so rich in beauty has been sold so short by who run it.

From Salta to Humahuaca

As we made our way from Salta to Humahuaca, it became obvious that we were heading into territory unlike any we had previously seen in Argentina. Colonial Spanish architecture made way to small scattered villages of white-washed adobe huts; the inhabitants went from Mediterranean in appearance to the more traditional look of the brightly coloured Quechua women with long swinging plaits and bowler hats; and a nights entertainment changed from a flashy bar in Palermo to a folk music pena.

 
 Quechua women

 Salta itself had been a turning point. It had a big town feel, but was clearly still true to its indigenous roots. The highlight of our stop here was a trip to the Archaeological Museum of High Altitude, which housed relics from the ancient Inca era that had been perfectly preserved due to the favourable conditions of low pressure, low humidity and freezing temperatures of the Andean peaks.

 It was fascinating to learn how the Incas, much like their Roman counterparts in Europe, had conquered large parts of the Andes and South America largely due to a complex network of roads. Inca roads however were through some of the most mountainous terrain known to man, the favoured spots sometimes reaching 6,739m above sea level.

Their penchant for high altitude was down to a belief that it brought them closer to God. No surprise then that these were favoured places of worship. However, that still didn’t prepare us for the perfectly preserved remains of 6 year old Inca boy who had been sacrificed 500 years earlier.

Child sacrifices were chosen due to their physical perfection and high ranking parentage and were offered during special celebrations. They were given a draft to make them fall asleep and once they had drifted off they were carried up and left on the mountain to die of exposure.

Shocking and very hard for us to comprehend and it wasn’t clear whether the children themselves knew of their exact role in the celebrations. Crucially however, these children weren’t viewed by the Incas as simply “dying” but as joining the Gods to look after the remaining Inca people.

 
Inca boy found at the peak of Llullaillaco volcano 

We left Salta and arrived at Humahuaca at about 9pm. It was freezing cold and we had no map. The mission: To find somewhere to stay before our legs gave way under our backpacks!

We stopped to take breathe and an opportunist woman taking a baby out of her car offered us a place to stay out back of her house. Due to a distinct lack of other options, we jumped at the chance and 10 minutes later found ourselves in the family kitchen making ourselves dinner!

 Making myself at home!

 So our little impromptu stop-over had been fun, but we set off the next morning, with the aim of finding something a little more conventional. We found it in Posada del Sol, one of the afore-mentioned cosy adobe little whitewashed huts, with llama blankets piled three deep on the bed to snuggle under and escape from the harsh desert cold.

 
 Posada el sol

 With our accommodation taken care of, we turned our attention to discovering the natural wonders that Humuhaucaca had to offer. Carlos, the hostel owner, recommended a local guide to take us to out to the Snia. Hornocal, an awesome multi-coloured rock formation, and we jumped at the chance.

Our guide, Gustavo, picked us up just after the blazing mid-day heat and we started to wind our way, past cactuses and rugged terrain.

Cactuses of Humahauca  

We quickly understood that this tour would be 100% in Spanish, a feat that 7 weeks ago would have been unthinkable, but as we moved from topics such as agriculture to geology to ancient Inca history, we realised that with a bit of patience, some hand gestures and a Spanish/English dictionary – we could understand Spanish! Now, that’s what I call progress!

 We stopped half way to our destination, to have some coca tea to waylay any altitude sickness (we were heading to dizzying heights of 4,000m above sea level) and a little history lesson about the surrounding area. All we could see was dusty scrubland, but apparently, before the Spanish came along and put a spanner in the works it was a fertile and prosperous area, the main crop being quinoa. Anyone who has watched Gillian McKeith in action will know that quinoa is a superfood, known for it’s health giving properties. Well the Spanish realised this too and changed their crops from quinoa to wheat in order to create a less healthy, plumper and more sluggish group of folk which were therefore, fortuitously for them, alot easier to manage.

The barren landscape of Humahaca

 We then made it to our destination – the Snia. Hornocal. Wow! Hiding away behind all those rugged hills was a kaleidoscope of pinks, whites, browns and reds.

 
 Superimposed at the snia. hornocal

 To finish off our stay at Humuhauca, we couldn’t leave without sampling the regional specialty of a Llama and quinoa dinner. We were a bit reluctant a first, having had the impression that eating a llama might not be dissimilar to tucking into a tough, smelly old boot! But at Gustavos insistence that it wasn’t a strong flavoured meat, but like a mild tasting beef with the consistency of pork, we relented to give it a go. And by jove it was! Completely inoffensive!

Old Gillian M was right about the quinoa though, I felt virtuous just by eating it. Nutty and delicious and, if truth be told, much more up my street than the side order of llama! 

Behind Closed Doors

It’s 9.30 on a Saturday night in Buenos Aires, and we are waiting outside la peurta cerrada (closed door) of a residential house in the neighbourhood of Chacarita.

We have invited ourselves into the home of Deigo and Sanra and tonight they are making us supper. Although “supper” could be selling short the five course tasting menu, created from ingredients sourced from as close as their back garden to the most far flung parts of South America.

 We were given the warmest of welcomes and ushered into the beautiful courtyard to catch up with the other guests over aperitifs of Lemon Verbena Clerico, amid the big question of “how did you ever find out about us?”  

  A mixture of Argentines, Europeans and Canadians were mingling over drinks whilst wandering around the courtyard, herb garden and of course where the magic happens…the kitchen. As for the hosts, despite being in the midst of creating dinner for 12, as yet strangers, the atmosphere was so relaxed and one of several friends throwing together brunch, whilst simultaneously answering all manner of questions about the food, the concept and how we all ended up here!

 
 Courtyard at Casa Felix

 An amuse bouche of bok choy, paico and squash flowers. was served to tantilise the tastebuds and amid flowing conversation we were ushered into the quaint candlelight dining or should I say “front” room. 

 
 Amuse bouche...certainly is amusing!  

I should mention that after being stuffed to the gunnels with steak for the last few weeks, we were glad to find out that this was a pescatarian casa and that the menu had been designed with healthy fresh ingredients, each course coming with a commentary on the origins of the food, how they came to encounter it and why they wanted to share it.

First up then was a spicy peanut Bolivian soup, a spicy little monkey not dissimilar to it’s Indonesian satay counterpart and utterly delicious.

Bolivian peanut soup

We then got to sample their loot from a jaunt to Salta, a province in the North of Argentina, which came in the form of an Andean Potato Tasting course! Four different types of potatoes, dressed and presented in four different ways. Definitely risqué, but on consideration we decided that it was a fitting tribute to the humble potato – this is where Sir Walter Raleigh swiped the first British bound potato after all, and changed our turnip eating habits forever!

Diego enlightened us as to the 250 varieties of potato cultivated in South America today, (such a shame there were no Irish guests tonight!) and among our carefully chosen selection came the ullocos which were sweet and had the consistency of a beetroot and the green ullocos which looked like they belonged more to the olive family. 

So with the Andean potatoes firmly under our belt (so to speak!), we proceeded to the main course of calamari stuffed peppers, humita cream and suico pesto – an interesting melange of European and South American, which was delicious but didn’t leave much room for the squash and coconut milk pie with quinoa crust for dessert! Not a problem in itself, as dessert unfortunately looked like a plate of fancy sweet potato mash and after the quadruple complex carb course that had preceded it, it was one member of the starch family too many for one meal!

Squash and coconut milk pie 

And so the evening came to an end just as it had started; buena onda (good vibes), drink in hand and chatting food and travel with our fellow supperclubbers. We’d had a top notch, non-meat orientated dinner, which in Argentina is no mean feat and we’d managed to sneak a peak behind the beautiful closed door of the new wave of BA foodie elite.