White waters abound...

Today was a fabulous day. We decided to go white water rafting for the day. Great fun (although not huge rapids). We got picked up early, and then drove for about 2.5 hours out of Salta to a huge lake (no idea of the name sorry - my spanish is still not that good). We stopped at a camp ground, where we joined a whole bunch of other travellers who were to do the same as us, and then got taken to the start of the rapids.

Interestingly enough, the rapids are controlled by a dam above the site. When they want to send people down, they open up the dam slightly, and allow an amount of water (judging how fast and cool they want to make the rapids) down, which you then get on an go for it. Craig and I had to have a crash course in rapids in espanol, so that we knew what to do when our guide yelled out to everyone in the boat.

The group on our boat were loads of fun. A guy and his son (he kept saying that his son wanted his inheritance early, which was why he was taking him white water rafting), two young argentinian couples (one was so funny and we had fun talking to them in the truck on the way back to Salta), and another couple (weird, although speaking spanish, never quite got the gist of the directions from our guide).

We went down about 10 rapids in total, which were fun, although not nearly as extreme as they could (Craig thinks ´should´) have been. We survived, although now have lovely sunburn marks (mine were the least - very proud of my slip/slop/slap efforts). The others will hurt tomorrow for sure.

Our reward for such a thrilling day was to have a late lunch, salad, bread and then loads and loads and loads of meat - these people take their BBQ seriously.

Ahhhh....Argentina Rocks!!!!

And to the final leg...(for Flic in any event)

Hey hey from the lovely Salta, Argentina!!!

We finally made it here from San Pedro de Atacama (nothing worthwhile writing about from the dust bowl of northern Chile - I can fill you all in, in about 30 seconds when I get home - not impressed, let me tell you). It was an eventful trip, with the bus losing its compressor (we assume brakes) as we drove down a mountain, and rather than do the twists and turns at full speed (yikes!!!), the driver sent for help and we had to wait for about 6 hours for another one to pick us up. We were supposed to arrive into Salta at about 10pm Friday, and ended up getting in at about 4.30am Saturday, to which quite a few of us sat at the bus station until about 7.00am, when we went to find a hostal. We are now staying in a hostel run by two ladies who appear to be about 150, and absolutely no idea what Craig and I are saying in Spanish - must be an ancient dialect of Espanol that they are conversing in... ho hum.

I just love this city. It is incredibly beautiful, and if Craig decides to leave me at the convent (don´t worry PC and Kae, I still have my key), it won´t be so bad to take (if one has to be left somewhere...). It is surrounded by mountains, has lovely green vegetation (although Craig assures me it was much more dry the last time he was here), beautiful colonial type streets, markets, parks, ah... I am falling in love with Argentina a little more each day.

The first day we were here we pottered around the place, had breakfast, went through the markets, had a siesta (got to love napping in the afternoon), had dinner (steak, steak and more steak), and then crashed for the night (very tired after not sleeping much the night before). Yesterday we walked up the mountain overlooking the village (1070 steps thank you very much), caught the cable car down, and then wandered through the markets. We found this little street stall that sold spicy sausages on bread with salsa, tomato and lettuce - yum. I also brought some stripy pants (all the rage in the backpacker scene) to wear today (see below), before we headed back for a siesta (yay!!! - Alf, can you get Aunty Clare to legislate this in the Territory???), and then went to find a cheap eat for dinner.

I am sure there is more to discover in this wonderful part of the world, but I will leave that to the next blog...

Bolivia, Buses and Borders

I am led to understand, by learned and scientific types, that within chaos one will find beauty and order. Moreover, I have also been reliably informed that where one finds beauty, there also one will find truth.

So Dear Reader, I have, over the past few days, attempted to align this understanding with my practical experience with Bolivia, both this time and on my previous visit in 2001 - for those unaware, I am fortunate to have spent 2 weeks in a Bolivian hospital where, amongst other things, the doctor was drunk and the nurse had apparently taken a sickie and sent her best mate in as relief (this experience makes me somewhat less than sympathetic for those complaining about RDH and the lack of afterhours medical services in Palmerston).

In short, Bolivia is constantly balanced on the very edge of catastrophe.

The reason the bus leaves on time is less through good management than that the company and driver have a 1 in 24 chance of leaving at the designated hour on the designated day (better odds than the lotto when one thinks about it). So we were pleasantly surprised when our bus to Oruro, connecting with our train to Uyuni did leave when it was supposed. And we experienced a very safe and comfortable journey, relatively speaking. Although the speedo never moved off 0 we passed everything in front of us, except one bus with which the driver commenced a furious duel (but comfort was drawn from passing through a police radar trap with flying colours (and not a checkered flag).

On arrival in Oruro (about 5 hours south of La Paz) things reverted to the norm for Bolivia. We were summarily returned our train tickets because a land slide (possibly in Siberia - it was never confirmed) had swallowed the bulk of the train leaving only 2 carriages. Our spanish and capacity for bribery was not sufficent to score a ticket on this much reduced train so we were left to our devices, and the opportunity to enjoy another long bus trip.

The bus left Oruro at 9, but I would refer you to the above statement about the odds of leaving on time. So it was at 10 that myself, Felicity, 2 Swiss girls and the Oruro Mens Marching Band departed.

We were advised that the trip would take 7 hours, arriving in Uyuni at 2. Not so. Rather around 6am. Have I mentioned the road is unpaved. Further, I suspect that the townsfolk along the route, jealous of those passing by in clouds of dust or showers of mud, purposefully place extra rocks on the road. To make things better, the Marching Band obviously consider hygiene to be a greeting, not a lifestyle option. They reeked.

Our travails to reach Uyuni were to allow us to undertake a tour of the Salar de Uyuni and the Bolivian reaches of the Atacama Desert, before crossing the border into Chile to a town called San Pedro de Atacama. We were led to understand that our attempts to reach Salta in Argentina (where Felicity intends entering a convent) would be better facilitated.

Uyuni is one of the most isolated towns I have ever visited (even compared to Darwin). The one attraction, other than being the place where one starts tours to the gorgeous surrounds and to fill up space in the map (cartographers hate having to put in things like - there be dragons here, why do you think Elliot and Eromanga exist?), is a mortorary for trains and the associated accoutrements - a great eerie pile of rust and past glories. Uyuni normally has electricity, both during the day and at night, but not the time we were there. I think this demonstrates a need for robust and intrusive regulation, including performance indicators.

Anyway, if I were able to upload photos you could see for yourself, Dear Reader, how gorgeous is this part of Bolivia. Volcanoes (which unfortunately did not erupt), flamingoes, lakes reflecting the sky and the mountains (and giving a home to the flamingoes) and lots of dust. Another experience is being in a place absent pollution, whether from light or industry. This makes the night sky incredibly clear and spectacular.

Perhaps within chaos one is able to find beauty, the trick is to be a little patient and have a sufficiently robust posterier to deal with the worst roads (calling them so is probably being a little polite) in creation.

So we left Bolivia for a short sojourn in Chile and onward to Argentina.

Bolivia remains my favourite country. Probably because it is a little dodgy like me.

The Birthday City...

Ah La Paz, La Paz, La Paz...

As with most travel, there is always a sense of anticipation, of what a place will be like, what there will be to do, what it will look like etc. My mental image of the city of La Paz, having first visited the not so lovely Lima in Peru, was of a city that was dirty, smoggy, very very crowded, and really not that an exciting place to hang out in. Boy was I wrong...

The entry into the city of La Paz is really nothing to write home about. As the city has grown, there has been a number of settlements that have sprung up on the outskirts of the canyon, which are dirty, dusty, very humble, with buildings looking as if they are on their last bricks. It looked as many Bolvian towns do, and not overly inviting.

However, the actual city of La Paz is located in a huge canyon, and as you arrive, you have to take the roads that snake their way into the canyon. It is an amazing sight, with the city reaching up to the top edges of the canyon, filling in as much developable space as physically possible. I was quite gob-smacked by the amount of buildings built into what appeared to be almost vertical.

We got ourselves into the centre of the city (our bus was a cheap on, so took a different route into town, avoiding toll gates and therefore didn´t drop us in town). We then trudged up the hill (puffing with out packs on) to Hotel Torino and got a room for the next few nights. The man behind the counter kept laughing at our Spanish attempts, but was nice enough (and he kept laughing until we left). The first night was spent finding a laundromat (pongy clothes are not fun) and somewhere to eat. We ended up at a really nice pizza place (distinct lack of Bolivian cuisine in La Paz that is easy to find), then headed home for a good night´s sleep.

Day two (16/1) we explored the city, finding the gringo market (area aimed purely at tourists), then the Witches Market (anyone fancy a dried llama fetus???), before finding a tour agency where we could book our trip south to Uyuni and then on the tour of the Salar. We found a nice place with a girl who spoke English, and was very helpful.

Day three (17/1)was supposed to be the day we went mountain biking up in the hills, however after getting up really early, and then waiting nearly an hour, we received a call to say that there was mechanical failure, and they wouldn´t be coming. A real bummer, as we were looking forward to getting out and about. We had intended to do the Death Road, but the tour operators were on strike and we couldn´t do it. So we spent the day walking around and then took a tour of the city in the afternoon. It was a nice enough day.

Day four (18/1) was my birthday. Fantastic day. Had llama steak for dinner - yum.

Anyway, this is a hard computer to type at and I am getting RSI, so will sign off till later...

F

And on to Bolivia...

It has been a little while since we last updated, but we have been busy, taking in so much, getting horribly sunburned (oops - must remember I am at altitude...) and just existing for a little while.

We are now in Bolivia, having taken the bus from Cusco through to the delightful little town of Copacobana (about 5 hours by bus from Cusco). We had to cross over the Bolivian boarder (yay, two countries down, two to go!!!), and then into Copacobana. The town is on the edge of Lake Titicaca, apparently the highest navicable lake in the world (so we hear anyway). It is a huge lake, and it would take some weeks to go around the entire thing (maybe a future canoe trip??? Anyone interested...). It reminded me of Darwin Harbour in lots of ways as the water was very calm, very much like our own beloved harbour on a good day.

We stayed the first night in a swanky (?) hotel that cost us about $12 a night (AUS), with huge bay windows overlooking the lake. We were hoping for a lovely sunset, but unfortunately the weather was a little inhibiting. We dined at a cute little resturant up the street with an open fire, weird arse lights, and a 5 year old waitress (she seemed to be doing more organising than the maitre´d was). Craig thinks there should be more of it in Australaia - why should we restrict children if they want to work... ho hum. Got to love travelling with an economist!!!

Sunday (I think, I am getting my days confused...) we took the boat over to Isla del Sol. Basically this place is heaven on a stick, and the best place in the world if you want to a bit of hiking, stay in basic accomodation (although with $M views), and dine on some of the world´s best trout. I could have stayed a week, but of course, as with all travel, there are always more things to come.

Our intention was to hike to some ruins in the south end of the island, then hike over the hills to the north end where we could catch the boat back the next morning to Copacobana. However about half way to the ruins, it started hailing (yep, hail, not rain) and we got absolutely drenched and very cold. We stopped into a little place and have a cup of tea and warm up, then thought 'ah, what the heck´and decided to stay the night. The place, although basic, was just gorgeous, lovely people making (although basic) food, and there were tonnes of travellers around us. Craig said the island has grown substantially since he was there last - amazing what a tourist market will do to a place. We were on the side of a hill, about 4000m above sea level, donkeys and lamas surrounding us, ah... farmyard bliss - he he he.

Yesterday we caught the boat back, and we were in time to catch the bus to La Paz. The drive in was so different to what we have done in the past few weeks. Going from huge Andean mountain ranges to flat desolate farm areas is such a contrast. Amazing that it can change so quickly. Also, my impression of Bolivia thus far is that it is much cleaner than Peru - will have to see if this changes. The road into La Paz is something else. The city is in a huge bowl type canyon, so you have to wind your way down the side of the canyon to get into the centre. Pretty amazing views. And incredible to see where houses and shops have been built. I swear some of them are at 90 degrees to the flat - amazing!!!

We are starting to make plans for the next part of our trip. But there are things to go and see and do in La Paz, so will sign off here until next time...

Sorry there are no photos yet folks, seems USB ports here are hard to come by... will try to update all the posts when we get to Argentina (maybe in a couple of weeks...). I think their computers may be a little more USB friendly.

Land of the Incas

We are arrived in Cuzco, the Land of the Incas, the very cultural heart of Peru.

Cuzco exists for the tourist. There are a multitude of doorways filled with folk offering all sorts of mysterious delights and necessaries: beds (possibly only on a short term basis though with a happy ending guaranteed); pharmaceutical products (we are assured all are legal); any food stuff a body could want (we sampled a peruvian delicacy last night, cuy, or guinea pig. Photos will be made available at some stage of its last bbqéd rictus before it was dismembered and devoured. For the record the taste is somewhat strong and gamey. It is unlikely that an international chain of kentucy fried cuy restaurants would be successful); and obviously pubs and so forth proliferate (the effect of altitude, Cuzco being at about 3700m, makes for a cheap night but a nasty headache the next morning).

For all that Cuzco is a pretty little town filled with colonial spanish architecture constructed on and with the predecessor Inca city. Surrounding Cuzco are any number of Inca ruins and stuff. We spent an interesting day surveying some of the closer ruins. Despite the pillaging of all the sites for building material one can still appreciate the scale and impressiveness of the Inca cities and buildings. At least as impressive was the dedication of the locals all tricked up in their version of Inca uniform, with the obligatory llama on a string, waiting in the rain for some mug punter to want to pay for a photo op (not these mug punters though, telephoto lenses are good for more than perving at the beach).

This brings me to the final Inca ruin of our visit, the much lauded Machu Picchu.

Due to organisational failings and a complete lack of assistance from our chosen tour firm, we were unable to book spots on that rite of passage - The Inca Trail (as opposed to all the others about the place). Instead, we settled for a day trip by train to the site. In fact this is the only permitted way to get there, other than walking. Some may recognise that this situation has the characteristics of a monopoly, with the associated potential for monopoly pricing. Obviously, as with all good enterprises with these characteristics and absent the benevolant hand of a wise and prudent regulator, the rail company charges an arm and a leg for the priviledge to reach Macchu Picchu. One must then pay another small fortune to enter the site.

Which we did. And I must say, that we were not particularly impressed.

In the words of Felicity Wannan,´this place blows chunks´, (honestly!).

Macchu Picchu is over hyped and over priced (but they have our money, so I doubt anyone cares). All it has over any common run of the mill ruin or ancient site anywhere in the world, is location, location, location. The scenery and surroundings are spectacular. But the place is definately not in the league of the Taj Mahal, Angkor, Pyramids or Ephesus, for example. It is interesting to not that the location, at the top of a mountain, is also to be its downfall. The whole site is slipping down the mountain and I understand is to be closed in the near future. The Peruvian Government, concious that this will result in a significant drop in its GDP (I reckon tourism contributes an equal proportion to Peru´s national wealth as marching powder), is furiously excavating a replacement lost city of the Incas for this eventuality.

So, unless one is a downright Inca ruins freak or want to take that classic photo, I wouldnt bother with Macchu Picchu or The Inca Trail, but instead would attempt to find trekking opportunities that dont revolve around Incas. The mountains in this part of Peru and the assoicated scenery is simply amazing.

Also amazing was the methods used by the small children (those whose fingers are no longer nimble enough to sew properly) to earn a quid. The little tykes race the buses that take tourists up to the site back to the bottom. It is about 1000 metres down. And they appear to usually win. The deal is that the bus driver lets them on the bus to collect money from the awe inspired fat americans and europeans. Or in our case some mug actually stops the bus to toss money out the window of his own accord. We coughed up no cash, although if he had beat the bus up the hill we may have given it some consideration...

On a final note, I will say that after being somewhat disappointed, we were cheered by the train ride home. As well as answering questions, cleaning dunnies and handing out food, the train attendants are required to give a fashion parade of alpaca products to some mixed up version of If you ever go to San Francisco. So I reckon most of us can count ourselves lucky with our work conditions.

Im sure there is more to say, but it can wait til next time. There may also be photos then.

Tonight we head to Bolivia, which is a much simpler place, but with complicated politics and occasional riotous behaviour. Similar to Mitchell Street of a night time.

Hasta Luego

It is all about the bus trips...

Ah, what can one say about the bustling little town of Huncayo, high up in the central Andes. It is in a huge valley, very fertile, and full of little towns dotted all over the place. We stayed at a delightful little hostel, very close to the centre of town. Old, rickerty, creaking wooden floor boards, and a resident cat, dog and parrot (who said ´hola´ to us when we were having breakfast). Even the cat would come up and sit outside our room each moring to make sure we were up so we could commence with the day´s quota of snuggles. I am such a sook - can you tell???

We originally were to spend only a night in Huancayo (Friday), but ended up spending two (and Saturday), which gave us time to catch the local bus out to two small villages, where we purchased three gorgeous rugs from some little old ladies (we were able to sleep well that night knowing that they could eat - are we typical tourists or what???). That was in the sleepy little town of Hualhaus. We then walked the dirt track through lots of little farms (chickens, cows, pigs and dogs abound) to the town of St Jeronimo, where we were in time to see a festival in full swing. We did get acosted by an old man (we think because he wanted money for the photos we took - we just ignored him - sometimes having no clue what someone is saying is actually a good thing), but that is about the only troubles we had.

Sunday we took the local bus to the town of Ayachuco (probably only about 200kms away), which took 8 hours. Skinny dirt track, bus full of people (there were some who stood for almost the entire way), chickens, children, old people, and us - what a mix. The views were absolutely amazing, although at times it was a little hairy on some of the bends. You sure don´t want that bus to go over the side. I think it was only twice that the locals got the look of ´thank heavens´after we crossed a particular creek on the side of a mountain.

As you can well imagine, by the time we got to Ayachuco, we´d both had the life rattled right out of our bones, and were both quite exhausted. However then were were to find out that the bus trip to Cusco was another 22 hours of more of the same. Talk about shooting someone down!!! However, we both braved the price and the time frame and decided that it was now or never (either that or to go all the way back to the coast, and then up through to Cusco - about another 10 hours on top of that - AS IF!!!)

We are now in Cusco, having survived the 22 hours, which I must way, was not nearly as bad as expected. Thankfully we decided to take the 6.30am departure, rather than the 6.00 or 7.00pm departures) so that we had most of the day to see the amazing and ever changing views of the magnificent Andes, and then had about 5 hours of paved roads from Abacanay, so we actually got some sleep. The roads were a little rougher than the previous day (I left my seat more than once on the bumps), but that was mostly on the tracks over the top of the highest mountains (nothing but grass grows, so that indicates how high it is) which I don´t think sees much in the way of traffic, so is therefore not well maintained. If we had left on the evening bus, although arriving in Cusco at a decent hour, we would have had to try and sleep over the bumpy track. Not something that would have been that pleasant in hindsight. Once again, dirt track, single lane, and always makes for an interesting stand off when you meet a truck coming the other way. The most nervous I got was when we had to back up about 50m to let a truck pass - the cliff below was pretty steep, and very very high - eek!!! My hat goes off to the driver, for sure.

We arrived into Cusco at 5am this morning, so we are both still a little shell shocked. However, a shower and breakfast have done us the world of good. Now we are off to explore the ancient world of the Inca´s by visiting Machu Pichu...

Till next time...

LIMA and beyond... (by Flic)

Oh is the land of chaos - otherwise known as Lima. All the guide books claim that this is a huge, busy, dirty city, and they weren´t far wrong. However to its credit, central Lima did posses an odd sense of charm and I was well impressed with much of the architecture. There were beautiful old buildings hidden among modern monstrosities, and some beautiful old churches and museums. And I was also impressed with how clean it was - the mayor of New York should visit sometime.

The flight from NYC knocked us both around some what, so we spent much of our time in Lima just floating about, checking out buildings and gardens, getting lost on occasion, and eating some yummy food.

The streets of Lima are pure chaos, and rival that of Istanbul for sure. I am amazed that there are not more accidents, or people run over, but there seems to be a secret agreement between all involved. Short of nothing that a toot with one´s horn won´t sort out. We even got tooted at to cross the road when the light was red for the cars (meaning it was green for us) - strange - wonder if Aunty Clare would think of enacting such a rule if the current new NT laws don´t work as expected (that is one for you Alf!!).

Needless to say, we didn´t want to stay long (the fog/mist/smog) blanketing the city was more than we could both handle (both had very sore throats and eyes after two days drapped in it), so we decided to bail and head to Cusco.

We are now staying in the delightful little town of Huancayo, about 3200 mtrs about sea level. The bus trip up was long (about 7 hours) and we were at about 4100 mtrs at the height of our travel. Needless to say, I ended up feeling quite sick, especially as I had to go to the bathroom at that level (negotiating the moving bus). By the time I got back to my seat, the exhursion nearly had me passing out (headache, nausea, cold sweats), but thankfully we were then over the ´hump´of the mountain, and heading back down. I feel much better now, although still a low grade headache, and a constant feeling that I have just run about 5 blocks. According to all our sources, that is to be expected.

We thought we could get to Cusco easily from here, but it appears we will need to take a bus to Ayacucho, and then on to Cusco. So we won´t be arriving for a few days yet. Not to worry, there are many mountains to see, and we have decided to stay in Huancayo for an extra night. We might even get a chance to go see some native craft or some such thing. Ah the joys of travelling...

Till next time all...

Recollections of NEW YORK (by Craig)

New York, New York, its my kinda town - meaning that I am happy where ever I can satiate my appetite for the new, bizarre and tasty (and yes, this is possible in Darwin).

For starters, an acknowledgement. We were put up by 3 very gracious hosts. Knowing people, especially ones with knowledge of NYC and its workings (and free passes to the exhorbitantly expensive Museum of Modern Art) was handy. Muchos Gracias folks.

NYC was brimming with tourists from the Mid West and parts similar, possibly due to the holiday period and possibly due to the balmy mid single digit weather. However, this multitude of muppets were intent on visiting every tourist icon available in their alloted days. Which meant there were queues everywhere. Queues to buy stuff as part of the post Christmas sales (we scored an extra 11% discount for ´not being from roun´here), to go ice skating (and listen to dodgy 80´s classics) in Central Park, to visit the Empire State Building and Statue of Liberty, and for the opportunity to queue. It was enough to give a fellow the tom tits.

One other activity requiring queuing was a visit to the few in number toilets available to the public randomly scattered across NYC where enterprising coffee houses and similar shops offered the opportunity. NYC does not do public convenience. One either bursts or takes a slash in the street or stays at home. A temporary facility in Times Square had a queue what seeméd a mile long.

The merchants of Broadway took advantage of increased demand (as is their right as rational economic actors) to increase the prices charged these sorry punters from Ballbag, Idaho for the apparent privalege to attend a rather sad lot of shows. I can see Phantom of the Opera at the Darwin Entertainment Centre, I want originality and fireworks and elephants from a Broadway show. This was not available for money or for love. So, after tapping all the contacts available to attempt to even get a ticket, Broadway was dismissed as a bit of a Yawn. I think we went to Spankys instead....

A final note on queues. The queue for the Empire State Building resulting in us visiting the ´Top of the Rock´. No more needs to be said really.

As I said, one cannot but love a place where all carnal appetites may be satiated to the utmost. For example, in the space of a couple of hours I scarfed a very good empanada (local cuisine of South America), a roast pork roll (available from a Chinatown near you) and a hot dog (tiny little things only amounting to a bite or two, but which, in addition to bagels and pretzels are a staple of NYC). On other occasions I also ate chinese from a box. Im secretly hoping that a bit of trekking in the Andes will restrain my waistline.

And at last, on the subject of food, I return to Spanky´s. This establishment could be deemed a somewhat naff and trite tourist oriented bbq joint. However, I contend that it is a hallowed temple to the consumption of hog flesh and quaffing of beer from impressively generous mugs. BBQ for denizens of the USA differs from the recognised form in Australia. Rather than a couple of snags, prawns and perhaps a chop all washed down with XXXX, BBQ involves taking great lumps of underappreciated lumps of hog and cow flesh (eg ribs and brisket etc), immersing it in a secret special sauce concocted by someones sainted mama, and then finally, stuffing said lumps into ones face until it bursts or the beer runs out your nose. It is a Southern thing apparently. Obviously, I loved it. I have refused to properly air my jacket, so I am carrying around the last lingering whiff of that fantastic smoky bbq stench. The only way the place could have been better is if the waitresses were dressed in bikinis (I would have settled for good looking even).

Perhaps the bbq thing is a signal of things in NYC. I am still marvelling that beven culture is alive and prospering outside those well known bastions as Palmerston, Logan and Western Sydney. It seems some shyster has convinced folk in NYC that wearing ugg boots is not only acceptable in public, but the height of fashion conciousness. These sad fashionistas may think they are the centre of existence, but I beg to differ.

NYE in NYC was also pretty damn tops. But if you were any sort of friend you would have already seen the pictures. I will, however, ask you all to think twice if someone asks if you want a champange and malibu shot.

We are in Lima at present. It is a loud, smoggy, smelly, acrid city. Although access to millions of poverty stricken punters willing to do anything to earn a quid means the streets could be considered almost sparkling. Anyway, it is a bit rubbish, so we are off into the Andes tomorrow.

More to follow....

NYE NYC 2006

The hoi polloi converged on Times Square like lemmings to see the glittery ball drop. Amusingly, of the million plus strained bladders crammed into the space between Times Square and Central Park, about 12 were in a position to see aforementioned ball, and Meat Loaf, Christina Agiliera, Riana and a number of other non entities prancing about tunefully. The crowd was also swelled by what appeared to be an equal number of NYC's finest - complete with rubber gloves, assualt rifles and A-N of the NYC phone book.

Flic and I, on the other hand, were hobnobbing with the nobs high above the heaving masses, breathing the rarified air of the rich and famous in a 22nd floor apartment on 53rd street, midtown Manhattan. And watched the ball drop on tv, with an admirably wide range of booze.

The party was hosted by someone I understand is a struggling actor (in red jumper in photo below), but with very well off parents (which explains the fantastic location). Did I mention the booze? There was lots of it. But, I'm not convinced that champange and malibu represent a manly or palatable mix. All that said, a good time was had by all.

On the way home, even more fun was had. Your average New Yorker is not really equipped to deal with a pack of fun loving australians. It was a case of them not knowing whether to call the police, laugh or simply hope the foolishness went away.

The weather in NYC has been a balmy 5 - 10 degrees. Quite pleasant in fact. Tomorrow we get on a plane to Lima - where it is summertime and the living is easy.

As promised earlier, more on Spanky's is coming, however, a can of whoopass is being opened on Monday Night Raw, with the K-Fed as a main attraction (getting on with life after Brittney and earning an honest quid). Im sure you all understand the priority.

A fabulous New Year to you all, dear readers. Til next time.

Craig

WEIRD THINGS...

In any new place, there are always new things to discover and experience. Here are some of the new things that we have come across in NYC...

Whole blocks that are covered in graffiti, seems art comes in so many forms here...

If you want a small pizza here, don't order a whole one, it likely to be HUGE and be just full of really bad cheese...

Costco is a massively large shopping centre, a warehouse FULL of household goods to the size that you can't possibly imagine (this gives buying in bulk a whole new meaning)...

Don't touch anything in the Subway...

A canvass of just blue paint is worth more than we could make in three entire lifetimes... (compliments of MOMA)...

Australians need to invest in TIVO, the new age television phenomenom...

If you want to drive in NYC, apart from having no sense of any fear, you need to know that horns are a MUST...

Ugg boots are a fashion icon...not a bogan must have...

Beer is readily accessible in drug stores (go figure) - if only RGL could see this...