High Attitude

Day 1 The wind pounds the single pained glass, it creaks and howls under its pressure. I sit next to it (protected)... gathering the last of the suns energy. Its mid afternoon....Were killing time... waiting, waiting for tomorrow to happen... The three days previous had be spent what can only be described as "playing" in the desert. ...O we laughed... we laughed in the face of the driest place on Earth. This is one of the gringo trail right of passages...The Salt flats "Xpediciones"... A 3 day jeep rumble from San Pedro Atacama (Chile) to Uyuni (Bolivia) taking in a whole load of baron landscapes and I guess some very salty ones. (somewhere in between we visit some crusty lakes, bathe in some hot springs and take silly perspective photos). (we definitely eat boiled sausages and instant mashed potato). According to my hollandaise tour companion (or rather her watch...which seems to do, well, everything) we are currently at 4300m. At this height you are susceptible to altitude sickness (a mild headache... maybe "a tummy upset")...Although her husband (arms crossed, head on the table) appears to be somewhat suffering.... (...the big jessie) Day 2 - We soon forget about the cold restless night in the Refugio when in the horizon the dots in the Lagoon turn out to be pink flamingoes. (Much to annoyance of our driver) Some of our crew fancy themselves as semi professional wildlife photographers...and there is massive lenses and tripods going on all over the shop. (we visit some more lagoons and see a lot more flamingoes....(my ungrateful) appreciation for wild flamingoes wains) Driving in endless valleyscapes (is valleyscapes a word?) takes on a computer game like quality. We finish our day in "a" salt hotel (not the original (as pictured)...this is no longer in use because of sanitation difficulties... (...brown salt...probably) Day 3 - After a red wine induced sleep we awake in our "salty beds" and head off into the white "salty" horizon. We take obligatory perspective photos and generally fanny around with Salt. Yeah it was a pretty fun.

La Serena

Foggy Seaside town. Good base for neighbouring Valley de Elqui & Coquimbo.

I put one of my eye balls on a telescope.

Fool Moon

Disco Beard

This mornings was the toughest decision to shave yet...

Shaving (in my little world) signifies a time to move on.... (the blunt razor and the cold water also make it a mildly uncomfortable experience).



Described as "the cultural capital of Chile", Valparaiso (2 hours west of Santiago) has the charm of Brighton with a frenetic bohiemian quality.
Small rugged homes perched ontop of one another are connected by "decorated" maze like roads and passages.... making getting lost... an enjoyable experience.

(I like to think) they house artists, poets and thinkers

(...although one of them definitely homes an old lady and a three legged dog).


....
..

Basically...Valpo is kool OK!


I´ve had this feeling before (mass confusion and a half shaven face).

Apart from its sights, your conclusions (or "experience") in a new place is largely affected by some minor (ever changeable) factors:

Where you stay
Who you meet
What you eat
(and in some instances) your body heat.

This was one of the instances where I stayed in a good hostel, met some nice people, had some meaningful conversations, and ate some delicous seafood.

(I also spoke my best baby talk, consumed garbage and ruined everyones breakfast one morning).

...
..
.Its in these instances when I realise what a privelidged position I am in.
(my main concern being... when I should leave? and where the heck I should I go?)

Call you tomorrow Mum

O yeah I stopped in Santiago "for a bit"

This made me dance in the street

MARCUS WORGULL - BEATS IN SPACE MIX by Zukunft

Rosetta Stoned

"Bueno"



"Bueno"



"Bueno"

Yes...Everything will be just fine if I just repeat Bueno for the next 7 months....

(...sometimes if I say it well enough I get food at the end of it)


So I leave Malbec country with (i´d like to think) a few useful Spanish words under my belt
(...underneth the belt underneath is my rather groovy tan coloured el banco).

After cycling around some vinyards pretending to know my shit (by the 4th and final stop that day I proclaimed I could smell neuances of Garlic...)
nuances of garlic...I decided to stop pissing around.

Yes, it was time for this Gringo to go back to school.

Mendoza seemed like the perfect place to do it...
...not much in the way of distractions, you could walk around the centre within a matter of minutes (or if you´d like get lost in its ginormous park).

Found me a teacher,
Got me a homestay

...which (I imagine) is like paying a visit to the priory...you do it because you know its good for you.

Anyway I knuckled down that week...you should of seen it!
...If learning could wear a sweatband and have a soundtrack then I´d be a Montauge.




ALAS... you cant learn a new language in a week.
(as I intially thought)

...I had a bloody good crack mind.

Embracing learning and shunning hostel life for my 62 year old homekeeper (who tried....bless her...to put as much meat on these bones as possible) - I desired the company of some young people (if they were girls then even better)...

Couchsurfing (...everyones talking about it)
...A community of strangers...just waiting to be your friend


I decided to investigate...

I spent an entire afternoon filling out a profile talking about how great I was and sent out some requests ("coffees?").

The result... (can only appear on the surface to be) a couple of dates. but in reality a couple of entertaining evenings with (some very open minded) locals.

...probably get stuck into a bit more of this
(Couchsurfing...a great way to meet the "common people")

Anyway must dash, we´re quickly approaching Chile and I´ve got to discard of these pips

ROCK N ROLL!