It's Christmas, Christmas can be done piùùùù
From tempoooooo much!
· · · that said, I am afraid that every time I update I say this sentence (=_=;)
but in fact ....
are almost in hibernation ...
eheheh
're finishing the year 2010
my mom, time passes faster and faster ehh!
THEREFORE
before the end of this year I want to greet all my dear followers of this blog:)
Monday, December 6, 2010
Bhow To Make Sweet Popcorn
Where have you been so far?
What I like the phrase I put in the title, I've heard again from the first day of the trip several times a day, literally - where have you been so-far far, is one of the first questions you are asked when you meet a new traveler, about two weeks ago I discovered that pull the two words-so-and-far-generates a third meaning that is-until now-, after this discovery, the phrase has lost a little bit in beauty ...
Here I am, sat down to write my last post on this blog with a little advance thought to this day he tormented by 'start of journey is a bit like when you have translated the Latin version of questions and in sixth hour, the anxiety begins to salirti from when you step into class.
What to say now.
I do not know.
When I dreamed this trip when I took notes and tips on the Internet even when they boarded the plane did not think I was doing it really. But here I am, at the end.
The mind flies to the early travel memories, the last having familiar faces that warm morning of July 4, my mother with the same eyes, which I am now as I write seemed to want to follow me right into the airplane, that girl on the flight Rome-Sydney in twenty-hour flight did not utter a word to that guy in Hong Kong gave me a Yankees baseball hat, the wanderings of my mind stops at the first meeting in the Australian soil: a German in the south of Stuttgart near I not even remember his name, was the first night and instead of sleeping at the airport as planned I take refuge in the first hostel of my life, a waste of money because jet-lag because of sleep I did not want, wandering through the hostel I met this guy sitting on a bench near by his backpack, he could not sleep in a few hours his plane was leaving to return home after six months of wandering around the world, a face carved in the terrible sadness but his eyes shone with happiness his journey, I remember almost nothing of what we have spoken only told me that this trip was a great challenge.
And so it was.
The flow of Cairns there again and I remember that I get lost in its surroundings in search of the Crystal Cascades not understand anything about what people were telling me, then there is Diego, two months of travel I have been with him, the best travel companion I could see, the only person of my trip that I really want to remain in my life. I go to mind the nameless faces of everyone I've met Europeans and North Americans and South Asians also Africans, that have kept me company during this trip, the quiet faces of those who were hanging on to their last day, probably my sad face will be remembered in a few months from another backpacker. The endless roads I have traveled, the long waits for buses, every time I did not sleep on a bed, the long and exhausting trek wonderful landscapes cultures tastes worlds I knew, everything flows nicely into my memory. Then there's next to me my pack more and more dusty and dirty, with flags everywhere sewn, gradually unraveling puncturing is breaking, my house, which faithfully followed me on his back in recent months, my best friend and my own worst enemy, because I hated the beginning so heavy so cumbersome, then as always smaller and lighter.
I think about how I was at the beginning.
Shy and frightened by this adventure did not know, then gradually more and more confident and experienced in muovermici in as if I had never done anything else in life.
these months have passed in a hurry, too, seems to me yesterday that first evening wandering around the streets of Sydney in the humid wet from the rain, and at the same time seem to me ages ago. I also
Facing a world map ... what is small and far away my dear Europe.
My thoughts are more confused memories try to get back together, too many at once and block each other.
is over. You just have to come back.
" The journey never ends. Solo travelers end up. It is also likely to endure in their memory, in memory, in the narrative. When the traveler is sitting on the sand of the beach and says: "There is much to see," he knew that was not true. You have to see what is not seen to see again what we have seen, in the spring to see what we have seen in the summer, the day see what we have seen at night, with the sun where the first time it rained, see green crops, the mature fruit, the stone has changed places, the shadow that was not there. We must retrace steps already given, to repeat, and to draw alongside new ways. We must begin the journey. Always. The traveler returns immediately. "
[José Saramago]
What I like the phrase I put in the title, I've heard again from the first day of the trip several times a day, literally - where have you been so-far far, is one of the first questions you are asked when you meet a new traveler, about two weeks ago I discovered that pull the two words-so-and-far-generates a third meaning that is-until now-, after this discovery, the phrase has lost a little bit in beauty ...
Here I am, sat down to write my last post on this blog with a little advance thought to this day he tormented by 'start of journey is a bit like when you have translated the Latin version of questions and in sixth hour, the anxiety begins to salirti from when you step into class.
What to say now.
I do not know.
When I dreamed this trip when I took notes and tips on the Internet even when they boarded the plane did not think I was doing it really. But here I am, at the end.
The mind flies to the early travel memories, the last having familiar faces that warm morning of July 4, my mother with the same eyes, which I am now as I write seemed to want to follow me right into the airplane, that girl on the flight Rome-Sydney in twenty-hour flight did not utter a word to that guy in Hong Kong gave me a Yankees baseball hat, the wanderings of my mind stops at the first meeting in the Australian soil: a German in the south of Stuttgart near I not even remember his name, was the first night and instead of sleeping at the airport as planned I take refuge in the first hostel of my life, a waste of money because jet-lag because of sleep I did not want, wandering through the hostel I met this guy sitting on a bench near by his backpack, he could not sleep in a few hours his plane was leaving to return home after six months of wandering around the world, a face carved in the terrible sadness but his eyes shone with happiness his journey, I remember almost nothing of what we have spoken only told me that this trip was a great challenge.
And so it was.
The flow of Cairns there again and I remember that I get lost in its surroundings in search of the Crystal Cascades not understand anything about what people were telling me, then there is Diego, two months of travel I have been with him, the best travel companion I could see, the only person of my trip that I really want to remain in my life. I go to mind the nameless faces of everyone I've met Europeans and North Americans and South Asians also Africans, that have kept me company during this trip, the quiet faces of those who were hanging on to their last day, probably my sad face will be remembered in a few months from another backpacker. The endless roads I have traveled, the long waits for buses, every time I did not sleep on a bed, the long and exhausting trek wonderful landscapes cultures tastes worlds I knew, everything flows nicely into my memory. Then there's next to me my pack more and more dusty and dirty, with flags everywhere sewn, gradually unraveling puncturing is breaking, my house, which faithfully followed me on his back in recent months, my best friend and my own worst enemy, because I hated the beginning so heavy so cumbersome, then as always smaller and lighter.
I think about how I was at the beginning.
Shy and frightened by this adventure did not know, then gradually more and more confident and experienced in muovermici in as if I had never done anything else in life.
these months have passed in a hurry, too, seems to me yesterday that first evening wandering around the streets of Sydney in the humid wet from the rain, and at the same time seem to me ages ago. I also
Facing a world map ... what is small and far away my dear Europe.
My thoughts are more confused memories try to get back together, too many at once and block each other.
is over. You just have to come back.
" Travel must involve the sacrifice of an ordinary program to promote appropriate, renunciation of the everyday to the extraordinary ... "
[Herman Hesse]
And I have now finished the program, forcing the ordinary, the everyday, you go back where I started, hoping that this wonderful experience I have served something. I will remove the garment from backpacker, backpack relegheró in the cellar, my tongue will again be the mother.
I'll be back to be to always do things ever ...
10:30 Heroes' Square?
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Where Is A Womans Vergina
Uruguay & Brazil to Buenos Aires
The bus arrives early on the classic American South and delay for a short stay not walk, I was entertained to enjoy my last Jugos nice steak and lose time on the internet , Brazil is not as cheap as the rest of the continent, then return to the diet that has accompanied me in the first 3 months of travel: rice and pasta in white ... damn economic development!
few days ago I left Argentina we will come back only to take the plane that will take me back home ...
I went to Uruguay, Argentina is very similar, only better managed and more ordered, even I found that many universities are studied here in two years of Italian.
I started my tour of the smallest country in South America with the city of Cologne for two days then stop in the capital and two in Punta del Este, which reminds me of the Gold Coast in Australia, here we find that even large groups of Anglo-Saxon in recent months had almost disappeared, I came here with the idea of \u200b\u200bthrowing myself on the beach doing nothing but rain forced me to throw the hostel in the hammock and do nothing.
In Argentina and Uruguay use our same bucket for garbage, if strange cities are filthy, the only difference is that ours are green and they change color changing city, is a month that amazed people all over the world by opening by pressing down with your foot ...
Arrive early morning in Porto Alegre, there remains only five minutes because I see the bad weather and decided to go a bit 'to the north.
Incredible, I never thought it could be bad weather in Brazil, I do not know, maybe I imagined that the clouds will magically disappear when they pass over this nation.
Brazil still surprises me, and the bus ride of 'Ilha de Santa Catarina I have not noticed the same poverty that you see in other countries, the machines are all new and there are even highways!
Another thing that surprised me is the landscape, as seen so far reminds me of the very north of Australia, my trip will begin and end with a similar landscape.
Brazilians are fantastic, although I had guessed already known to those traveling through, are much more open and friendly people of Argentina, have only two problems: they speak Portuguese and the Argentinians have even more layers to this habit of touching or keep attached to your face.
Arrive early morning in Porto Alegre, there remains only five minutes because I see the bad weather and decided to go a bit 'to the north.
Incredible, I never thought it could be bad weather in Brazil, I do not know, maybe I imagined that the clouds will magically disappear when they pass over this nation.
Brazil still surprises me, and the bus ride of 'Ilha de Santa Catarina I have not noticed the same poverty that you see in other countries, the machines are all new and there are even highways!
Another thing that surprised me is the landscape, as seen so far reminds me of the very north of Australia, my trip will begin and end with a similar landscape.
Brazilians are fantastic, although I had guessed already known to those traveling through, are much more open and friendly people of Argentina, have only two problems: they speak Portuguese and the Argentinians have even more layers to this habit of touching or keep attached to your face.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Kotex Pad Wearing Aunty
Wellcome
Buenos Aires. Definitely The most dangerous place in which I was previously, or perhaps the place where bad luck has decided to hit the most. After nearly two months in south america the sense of insecurity I had finally abandoned.
let your guard down I was immediately impressed. As the worst idiots.
arrived in Buenos Aires with a little over 10 pesos after finding the hostel the first thing I do is going to retire. Enabled once with Diego decided to go for lunch, we enter the metro is packed, like sardines tablets people who do nothing but step on their feet, standing with the thong thing is very annoying, but maybe that was the problem.
When they got the camera, move in the pocket in front to avoid to make me take off, I leave my wallet in the side pocket of the shorts that until a few hours ago I considered the safest place as there are two buttons that I always cursed an immense effort to open , however, cover my pocket with your hand for added security.
The train begins a stretch of curves and I cling to the bar for balance, so I mistakenly heard his wallet on the thigh is adequate security. ;
At one of the control buttons that do sometimes do not feel anything, touch three or four times yet nothing, I key in the other pocket, and still nothing, I think maybe I went without. I look at the ground with the naive hope that it will simply fall, I look around but could have been anyone.
Then, as if nothing had happened, with a surreal calm, I can not explain, I say to Diego
"Me han robado.
We leave the meter very calm and rest a couple of minutes thinking about what to do and trying to figure out how it happened. I realize that the huge dick that I did fuck your wallet with all my money and cards. Sale anger and fear about how to do now that I have left in your pocket only 20 pesos.
Take a taxi to return quickly to the hostel where I have the numbers to block the cards in the meantime I call my dad to let me confirm that I am a jerk and the embassy. The embassy
I do not even respond to the number of emrgenza who gave me the police.
The taxi driver heard me yelling in Italian and at the end of the race tell me that I should not think that the Argentines are all so .
addition to the money lost and the problems arising from theft, to exacerbate the anger is additional to the emotional value for the portfolio and the notes I had kept one for each state visited, not to mention the tax code and license the patent diving.
At nine and a half After just over three hours following the theft made the complaint go to dinner. Walk
I realize the situation in the city: two guys are removing the most possible from a number of parked bikes, others open to collect plastic garbage bags and cans to sell, all in the way where most people do not care for them but look and pass.
We take a pizza and we put on the tables outside, after one minute there's three of the guys who handle the garbage to ask for a slice, a alliunga your hand and touches it, walk away pizza from his hands on the other side of the table then try to take my pepsi, we get to send them when we go back and sit up pizza and seven have disappeared.
The people around us did nothing but watch the scene.
with anger that makes us go hungry and that there is a pepsi drinking, cursing in Italian / Portuguese / English back to the hostel ....
And tomorrow is another day ...
best hope
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Gay Cruise Spot Thomasville Ga
Cul de sac
 |
| I did not have many pictures past few days and then put them random begin with a sunset Australian |
Four and a half months ago I started with a third party without the bulky backpack to know without even realizing it, full of all those ideas prejudicial, stereotyped and generals who have accumulated twenty-two years during the journey took smaller and lighter until they disappear, or nearly so, after all, to realize that an idea is both injurious to deal with something or someone that can refute or ever will remain so.
Delusions aside
 |
| Then a river in New Zealand |
Over the past 15 days I was virtually immobile, having been slightly hurt I had to spend several days locked in a room of the hostel to watch film and TV series to combat boredom, streaming blessed! Still not fully recovered but at least they are no longer asthenic which allowed me to leave the hostel. Despite this I'm caught in a cul de sac "of Argentina, too far from the delights of the south and north and I'll have to give up something, the center of Argentina has only its beautiful cities to live, such as Cordoba and Mendoza.
 |
| and an American |
The only drawback is that you can enjoy much more of a city to be discovered and when it is different. Already
Europeans, Australians and Americans seemed similar, the only real difference that I noticed after being in Bolivia and Peru, is that I say "cheers" and others I say "cheers, holy, prostate, na zdraví ...", let alone now in Argentina, that if I had never opened a history book that I think was an Italian colony since their fantastic accent more than any other language approaches if the first Italian or English when I did not know a word guessing I had a good chance to guess, here go to the sure word as it is in Italian and not even need to add S to end, for example Staying on the theme of beer in Argentina is said to drink beer, Add to this, that the pizza is decent, listen to Italian music than us, and the fiat fernet are everywhere and are used to say "La Ley ECHA, ECHA the Tramp" that the differences with Italy become more geographical than anything else.
I could sum up the last tedious digression in a sentence like: "I went to see the world in its diversity and then realize that there are less than I imagined. "Perhaps it was to see screens without those two countries so distant from our world to make me feel closer to others.
 |
| Peruvian |
That said let's go back to what I was saying (or writing) before, now you're completely forgotten. I miss Buenos Aires just to get out of this semi parentheses Italian, from there the journey back to being on the beach, and after three months of sandy deserts, rocky, icy steppe or a beautiful endless stretch of salt water is what it takes.
I do not see the time to take the backpack on his shoulders.
now we are winding down and the weather more than ever is my enemy, cursed backpackers coming from the opposite direction, I have always been useful for information and know which are the most beautiful ignored by the mass, now they just take out places that I can not reach, it takes even Diego to sing the beauty of northern Brazil.
To get the most out of this month I try to do a travel plan, but is strongly opposed to how I learned to travel so I can not, I can not do a project that goes beyond three days.
 |
| And at the end of a lake Bolivian |
One certainty: it starts tomorrow, tomorrow I wake up from this stupor for which they are victims more than two weeks!
Sunday, November 14, 2010
What Size Trowel For 4x8 Wall Tile
La strada
Before you go to sleep I was reading the last post on the blog of a friend of mine on the road too.
I met him two years ago when I went to London to "work" after London lost all the contacts I meet him by chance last year in Santorini, and if I had to accept the first trip I had the idea designed perhaps our paths would cross again in the south-east Asia that is now experiencing.
I asked him what was missing on his return, when he said that there were few days left for some strange reason I went to re-read the first post that he had published.
Among the comments I noticed the lyrics of a song, I also read three months ago when he began to write, but for some reason I was not impressed, but this time in a month and change since my return I struck to the heart.
This is the blog of my friend in question, tells a wonderful trip in the same beautiful country, needless to say reading that has transformed in recent months, also have stories with other backpackers encountered, the south-east Asia as a desired future my next trip:
This however is the lyrics:
Road - Modena City Ramblers
 |
| The straight road that connects the Grand Canyon to Flagstaff is perfectly here |
Of all the poets and madmen
we encountered on the street, I held a face or a name
a tear or a laugh we drank
Galway
getting late in the bars of Lisbon
rediscovered stories
Italy to the tune of some song. We shot together
and heard the voices of madmen
met people on board and
strangest fellow travelers
someone has been
someone is gone and he has not heard from
one day you decided
a hug and then you left.
hermano querido
good trip and a good way wherever you go
maybe one day we could meet again down the road.
Of all the countries and places where we stopped the van
we lost a minute to listen to a partisan or some drunk
the strange stories of the old bar and children with
desert tea
were life lessons
I learned and I still have.
good trip ...
I'm not crying about the old days
or the usual stories about the past and because he is stupid
messing up a memory or on some songs please do not look
no regrets for what has been
that the stars always guide you
and the road will lead you far
we encountered on the street, I held a face or a name
a tear or a laugh we drank
Galway
getting late in the bars of Lisbon
rediscovered stories
Italy to the tune of some song. We shot together
and heard the voices of madmen
met people on board and
strangest fellow travelers
someone has been
someone is gone and he has not heard from
one day you decided
a hug and then you left.
hermano querido
good trip and a good way wherever you go
maybe one day we could meet again down the road.
Of all the countries and places where we stopped the van
we lost a minute to listen to a partisan or some drunk
the strange stories of the old bar and children with
desert tea
were life lessons
I learned and I still have.
good trip ...
I'm not crying about the old days
or the usual stories about the past and because he is stupid
messing up a memory or on some songs please do not look
no regrets for what has been
that the stars always guide you
and the road will lead you far
And because I also discovered how to embed this video well put
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Obraz Olejny Praga Czeska
As sick as dogs two
Here I am sitting on a bus in the new place unknown. I look at the landscape, next to me is Diego and he does the same. No they are not returned to Australia after the deep cold south Argentine I reached Diego Mendoza, warm, and not content of several hours on the bus, I started with him a new long journey north. We stop first in San Augustin fertile valley in the middle of another desert for the night and take a tour the next day, just got off the train we saw the classic man who picks up the Hostelling International backpacker, I personally hate this chain But since it was late at night and we were both tired free the inscription on the sign Transfer t handheld dall'omino makes me give in and choose quell'ostello, free transportation turned out to be the man who accompanied us walk to the hostel. The day dopa and Valle de la Luna Valle Fertil, who called her fertile probably never seen a prairie in his life, the landscape draws very Monument Valley USA: dry without a drop of water, the only form of life are the Condor flying over the head of the tourists.
We had agreed to let us leave after the tour in La Rioja, but I think there's been some little misunderstanding, and we unload along with five other boys in a bar on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, here in Argentina is very easy to be situated in the middle of the desert, where perhaps only the current reaches to the 7 evening not to leave the dark who lives and works in the house / bar. After four hours passing the bus going to La Rioja, and we charge despite missing the seats for everyone. Once in the city decide
with Diego and the new traveling companions to go direct to Salta, and then wait another five hours of the morning until four in the other bus, invariably comes with an hour long delay our expectation, and hunger, There is an ATM that does not work and we spent all of our pennies for the last bus ticket, I unable to solve a pepsi someone with more money also promoted a box of alfajores that ends up being dinner for everyone.
Arrival in Salta and the password is REST.
spent four nights in Salta, dedicating myself to the pool of the hostel, to the bustling nightlife of the town and celebrate my birthday in late because Diego when he learned that I had spent the birthday bus and two other backpackers we travel with me the surprise birthday with cake.
One evening two dogs back to the hostel for some reason unknown to me and pointed me barking chased, never run so fast in my life, I'm not sure how much I have two hounds chased the damned before I could get into a car because every day that passes I remember going to some ten meters longer than a day before.
In Salta I have not abandoned my kind of traveler, I have gone for a ride around in a desert of salt, visited the town of puntamarca that has just been elected by the UNESCO World Heritage Site, all through a beautiful valley alongside the car of a train ride on the world's highest.
It seems every time I get close to Bolivia, I get sick (already happened in Peru and Bolivia in itself), the last day I was in Salta a slight fever that passed in an afternoon but I left a nagging cough. Arriving in Cordoba andarmi decide to make a medical examination convinced for some strange reason that Italians do not pay the doctor in Argentina, when I find that we do not have this good fortune rather than andarmi likely to make a long line to the emergency room I go to the nearest doctor thinking of leaving the hostel charges to insurance. The visit cost me 40 pesos , in southern Argentina in a hostel room is more expensive, the diagnosis is pharyngitis, antibiotics and syrup (160 pesos cost of medicines). The next day I go back to the doctor because it makes me a bad dog on his right foot and is peeling: looks at him and asks me if I am a mochilero (backpacker), tells me I have athlete's foot that is popular among backpackers and probably I took walking barefoot to the hostel. Four months that I wear socks or slippers to make even half a meter in order to avoid contracting mushrooms and I wonder how you can ... Flashback to the swimming pool ... §@#%$!
So now enforced rest in Cordoba ...
Now I would like to find some other stupid to write because once published the post I have to do the washing machine ... 
Here I am sitting on a bus in the new place unknown. I look at the landscape, next to me is Diego and he does the same. No they are not returned to Australia after the deep cold south Argentine I reached Diego Mendoza, warm, and not content of several hours on the bus, I started with him a new long journey north. We stop first in San Augustin fertile valley in the middle of another desert for the night and take a tour the next day, just got off the train we saw the classic man who picks up the Hostelling International backpacker, I personally hate this chain But since it was late at night and we were both tired free the inscription on the sign Transfer t handheld dall'omino makes me give in and choose quell'ostello, free transportation turned out to be the man who accompanied us walk to the hostel. The day dopa and Valle de la Luna Valle Fertil, who called her fertile probably never seen a prairie in his life, the landscape draws very Monument Valley USA: dry without a drop of water, the only form of life are the Condor flying over the head of the tourists.
 |
| Gothic Cathedral in Valle Fertil |
with Diego and the new traveling companions to go direct to Salta, and then wait another five hours of the morning until four in the other bus, invariably comes with an hour long delay our expectation, and hunger, There is an ATM that does not work and we spent all of our pennies for the last bus ticket, I unable to solve a pepsi someone with more money also promoted a box of alfajores that ends up being dinner for everyone.
Arrival in Salta and the password is REST.
One evening two dogs back to the hostel for some reason unknown to me and pointed me barking chased, never run so fast in my life, I'm not sure how much I have two hounds chased the damned before I could get into a car because every day that passes I remember going to some ten meters longer than a day before.
In Salta I have not abandoned my kind of traveler, I have gone for a ride around in a desert of salt, visited the town of puntamarca that has just been elected by the UNESCO World Heritage Site, all through a beautiful valley alongside the car of a train ride on the world's highest.
 |
| Rivola giants |
So now enforced rest in Cordoba ...
Now I would like to find some other stupid to write because once published the post I have to do the washing machine ...
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Women Wearing Girdels
In Patagonia until the end of the world in Chile Bolivia Dalla
Street from San Pedro to La Serena.
A night bus and disembark in the charming seaside town, or so I was expecting, the sky is covered with gray clouds, I only takes a few seconds of observation to decide what to do.
Return, I make the rounds of companies and choose the bus to Valparaiso which starts later in order to visit the city.
further eight hours by bus.
Arrive in Valpo that there is still light, I find a great hostel just opened in the enthusiastic owner indicates all the places to go and where not to go in the city, in the end the night I shared a chorillana the restaurant with him and his friends , very good thing that enabled me to spend a night on the Chilean living in the country more in one night than I could do in a few days. In these
I also afflicted days to decide on my next trip, I tried flying trains and buses, reasoned on the days and places to visit if you go there or not. In the end I decided to reach Ushuaia, the last bastion before where human nature with its imperviousness wrote about an expanse of liquid and solid water " ultimate .
have 70 hours of bus: In the morning I board early to Santiago and two hours after arriving in the Chilean capital, I have time to visit until 22 after 8 hours in a bus makes me cross the border, two other stamps the wishes of the passport cop who noted that it is my birthday and new country, finally Argentina.
Arrive at the bus station to Mendosa at 4 am, thinking they can take a bus to Bariloche for lunch time waited patiently on a bench in the terminal with an Argentine company that screams at every bus that comes, "Change pesos Argentinos Chileno, Change! Change! "
The timing was wrong the first bus leaves at 20 to Bariloche and arrives at 13, amen, I have more time for the city. Having stayed a few hours I was exhausted and walking for so long is not easy, I fall asleep on a park bench.
Bariloche, it seems to be the Alps, the town overlooks a lake surrounded by snow-capped peaks, the course is full of shops that make and sell chocolate at the end I can not help but get into one with a chocolate fountain and devour all kinds of crap for sale. Spend five hours waiting for the bus I board again, 32 hours, starting at 20, 26 at 3:45 arrival of 28 ...
I remember that after less than two months after my departure, when I was still in New Zealand, I calculated the time spent on means of transport such as buses and aircraft, and was about a week, I dare not imagine now what it is. At the end of these six months I spent two months sleeping and perhaps almost as many Coach ... Better not think about it.
we're just tourists on the bus at the end of the trip I pulled out the theory that the Argentinians even if they have relatives in the south prefer to let them die instead of repeating the long journey.
The 32 hours pass quickly in the end, now I am used to the usual routine: film-sleep-sleep look at the landscape-something-more-sleep-eat-sleep, to run the fastest time will take care of the ' atmosphere that is created by people who have come together in this killed me: how a small school trip. Time passes and fly to El Calafate, which almost do not want to get off the bus:
a) because I think the place I spent more time in recent months
b) outside is cold as hell are the 4 and I have no intention of paying a hostel for six hours at full price.
I stop one night in El Calafate and the next day I go to see one of the world's most famous glaciers. I also had the chance to admire a piece of ice break off and fall into the water. I mean, not a small piece of ice or snow pellets falling all the time, but pretty much a big as a bus maybe bigger (now known as I read that I compared him to a bus now I see them everywhere), distanced himself slowly falling in the water with a thunderous roar of huge waves propagating as a result.
Back to Calafate I took the first bus to Ushuaia, Tierra del Fuego, the last town before Antarctica. Are another 18 hours, starting at 3 am. We cross the Strait of Magellan with a barge carrying only us and the coaches, nearly 500 years ago died for us through this channel and instead scrausa with a boat in less than 10 minutes we are on the other side.
The bus, alas, is not one of those "sudamericanstyle" but it is a normal, awkward journey rewarded by the beautiful landscapes that I look out the window, and the idea of \u200b\u200breach (almost) the end of the world! 
Street from San Pedro to La Serena.
A night bus and disembark in the charming seaside town, or so I was expecting, the sky is covered with gray clouds, I only takes a few seconds of observation to decide what to do.
 |
| Calle de Valparaiso |
further eight hours by bus.
Arrive in Valpo that there is still light, I find a great hostel just opened in the enthusiastic owner indicates all the places to go and where not to go in the city, in the end the night I shared a chorillana the restaurant with him and his friends , very good thing that enabled me to spend a night on the Chilean living in the country more in one night than I could do in a few days. In these
I also afflicted days to decide on my next trip, I tried flying trains and buses, reasoned on the days and places to visit if you go there or not. In the end I decided to reach Ushuaia, the last bastion before where human nature with its imperviousness wrote about an expanse of liquid and solid water " ultimate .
have 70 hours of bus: In the morning I board early to Santiago and two hours after arriving in the Chilean capital, I have time to visit until 22 after 8 hours in a bus makes me cross the border, two other stamps the wishes of the passport cop who noted that it is my birthday and new country, finally Argentina. Arrive at the bus station to Mendosa at 4 am, thinking they can take a bus to Bariloche for lunch time waited patiently on a bench in the terminal with an Argentine company that screams at every bus that comes, "Change pesos Argentinos Chileno, Change! Change! "
The timing was wrong the first bus leaves at 20 to Bariloche and arrives at 13, amen, I have more time for the city. Having stayed a few hours I was exhausted and walking for so long is not easy, I fall asleep on a park bench.
 |
| Patagonia |
I remember that after less than two months after my departure, when I was still in New Zealand, I calculated the time spent on means of transport such as buses and aircraft, and was about a week, I dare not imagine now what it is. At the end of these six months I spent two months sleeping and perhaps almost as many Coach ... Better not think about it.
we're just tourists on the bus at the end of the trip I pulled out the theory that the Argentinians even if they have relatives in the south prefer to let them die instead of repeating the long journey. The 32 hours pass quickly in the end, now I am used to the usual routine: film-sleep-sleep look at the landscape-something-more-sleep-eat-sleep, to run the fastest time will take care of the ' atmosphere that is created by people who have come together in this killed me: how a small school trip. Time passes and fly to El Calafate, which almost do not want to get off the bus:
a) because I think the place I spent more time in recent months
b) outside is cold as hell are the 4 and I have no intention of paying a hostel for six hours at full price.
 |
| Perito Moreno took a smaller piece as it falls |
Back to Calafate I took the first bus to Ushuaia, Tierra del Fuego, the last town before Antarctica. Are another 18 hours, starting at 3 am. We cross the Strait of Magellan with a barge carrying only us and the coaches, nearly 500 years ago died for us through this channel and instead scrausa with a boat in less than 10 minutes we are on the other side.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Why Does My Tooth Ache At Night
Tommy Flynns Winery and Farmhouse Iuzzolino Filomena
Farm and Farmhouse Iuzzolino Filomena
Contrada Coste - Ricigliano ( SA)
Tel 0828/953193 - 334/7528542 - Closed?
Type of cuisine: homemade
Price: low
Overall rating: 5 / 5
Directions: from Salerno, take the Salerno - Reggio Calabria, and exit at Sicignano. Then proceed towards San Magno Greogorio / Buccino, then for Ricigliano. You will find the room below the main road, indicated by a sign not too visible. So look for signs! You can park in front of the room without problems and without abuse. The programming
Otto of cinemas throughout Italy, but especially those bells
(for obvious reasons) has been monopolized by the film "Welcome to the South" by Luca Minieri, a nice remake of French film ("Welcome to the Sticks") a few year ago. The plot is very basic: a Director posed of the province of Milan tries to cheat their superiors pretending disabled to become director of a subsidiary of Milan, but once discovered is sent for punishment in the south, in the province of "Napoli". Of course, part load
prejudices, thinking to get into a violent place ruled by the Camorra, full of garbage and shootings and murders everyday, but the reality is quite different, slowly discovers that the people of the south are polite, friendly and warm, that there is no crime, etc.. etc. So much for the plot. Now we come to the criticism. I have rarely seen a more pointless and mystifying
film of "Welcome to the South." First the location: a film that should be set in Naples is turned Castellabate, Cilento charming village which contains within it many pearls unknown to most. A clean, healthy air and food, zero crime, with collection rates high, beautiful scenery and artistic
to no end. We want instead to talk of the province of Naples? An abortion urban surrounding the capital from all directions, with a very high percentage of offenders, held at 41a, illegal construction to no end, of each material abusive
landfills, water perennially dirty (the second Gulf piùà polluted in the world after that of Bangkok, word Ganapini). And let's stop here, which is better. Then we want to talk about a big slice of the population? At best, complicit with the Camorra,
which gives them the bread and pottage, ready to cheer on their fathers when they leave the police station-masters, to attack the police in case of raids or arrests, completely oblivious to each form of historical and scenic beauty, and their heartbreaking and disgusting neomelodica to make the background music for any occasion more or less happy. We want to talk about safety and livability? Just today 26/10/2010 Casoria there was an assault on an armored car and killed a security guard with a shooting resulting in the street, and yesterday Afragola there was another shootout (fortunately without dead) for a bank robbery. And I want to stop here, even if to say there would be many. What I want to say is that the Cilento, fortunately, is light years away from the province of Naples, and that the director would do well to run their course Secondigliano film in the post office closed after a robbery. So was also more comfortable without customers and staff ....
Ops, but we had to talk about a restaurant or not? Ok, I'll talk about a restaurant Cilento, who has nothing to do with Naples and its troubled province. We Ricigliano, a town famous for its bread, to the farm "Iuzzolino Filomena." It 's a beautiful Saturday in October, the sky is slightly cloudy by clouds, but luckily no rain. We arrive at the restaurant after a stop for a drink in downtown after a Buccino and played football with Supersantos, just to acknowledge us, we sit in the large room already furnished (we had booked) and now the very nice Mr. Gregory brings us bread and wine red table cloth on our course red and white checkered. Then came the really good starter country, with cold cuts and cheeses, then four dishes of delight: cunzato potatoes, endive, white beans and tomato salad
. Already half-full (unlike the other patrons of the place, all over 120 pounds, our stomachs have little capacity, and it is a sin) comes to the table we see a beautiful tray of dumplings (scazzatielli, it says here) to be dressed with ricotta salata. And it is only the first first, having followed them since the excellent ravioli, homemade (and hear!). Time for a toast to "those who do not see the bottom does not see the world" and are ready for a good mix of roast pork, lamb and veal, with many non-frozen French fries. Before the cake is also the time to chat with the owner, Gregory, who apologized to us because his wife has prepared the donuts. Just as well, one more reason to return! We return, and how we taste freselle with vin santo dessert, we would have preferred the donuts are hot but we are happy anyway. We pay (14 euro per person for all that you have read, interesting, right?) and not being in the province of Naples that we are not taken to wearing a helmet (see here ). Salute you, thank you, but first we have to pay toll to go to an old peasant woman who, almost compulsively, counsels us to buy its delicacies. My friends and I we manage with a bottle of wine, corn, squash and beans, although she had wanted buy more. I have just the 16, so we decide for a B2B (back to Buccino) for another cake, ice cream and another cup of coffee and a nice walk to the castle overlooking the old town. Town, so to speak, because almost all the houses are now abandoned and sold, and chatting with the friendly and talkative people
discover that they are at low prices: there are houses of two rooms that are sold even at 7,000 € (seven thousand, you read that right). Let us return to our cars fantasy, some more than others, moving to Buccino and compete for the office of mayor, at least to improve the manholes slippery when it rains. That is, the local council and the hike at all, slightly less than the first film. Welcome to the south, welcome Cilento.
as the main course that I can not mention all the dishes
recommended Tracklist: Arcade Fire - Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains)
Arcade Fire - Ready To Start 
Farm and Farmhouse Iuzzolino Filomena Contrada Coste - Ricigliano ( SA)
Tel 0828/953193 - 334/7528542 - Closed?
Type of cuisine: homemade
Price: low
Overall rating: 5 / 5
Directions: from Salerno, take the Salerno - Reggio Calabria, and exit at Sicignano. Then proceed towards San Magno Greogorio / Buccino, then for Ricigliano. You will find the room below the main road, indicated by a sign not too visible. So look for signs! You can park in front of the room without problems and without abuse. The programming
Otto of cinemas throughout Italy, but especially those bells
(for obvious reasons) has been monopolized by the film "Welcome to the South" by Luca Minieri, a nice remake of French film ("Welcome to the Sticks") a few year ago. The plot is very basic: a Director posed of the province of Milan tries to cheat their superiors pretending disabled to become director of a subsidiary of Milan, but once discovered is sent for punishment in the south, in the province of "Napoli". Of course, part load
prejudices, thinking to get into a violent place ruled by the Camorra, full of garbage and shootings and murders everyday, but the reality is quite different, slowly discovers that the people of the south are polite, friendly and warm, that there is no crime, etc.. etc. So much for the plot. Now we come to the criticism. I have rarely seen a more pointless and mystifying
film of "Welcome to the South." First the location: a film that should be set in Naples is turned Castellabate, Cilento charming village which contains within it many pearls unknown to most. A clean, healthy air and food, zero crime, with collection rates high, beautiful scenery and artistic
to no end. We want instead to talk of the province of Naples? An abortion urban surrounding the capital from all directions, with a very high percentage of offenders, held at 41a, illegal construction to no end, of each material abusive
landfills, water perennially dirty (the second Gulf piùà polluted in the world after that of Bangkok, word Ganapini). And let's stop here, which is better. Then we want to talk about a big slice of the population? At best, complicit with the Camorra,
which gives them the bread and pottage, ready to cheer on their fathers when they leave the police station-masters, to attack the police in case of raids or arrests, completely oblivious to each form of historical and scenic beauty, and their heartbreaking and disgusting neomelodica to make the background music for any occasion more or less happy. We want to talk about safety and livability? Just today 26/10/2010 Casoria there was an assault on an armored car and killed a security guard with a shooting resulting in the street, and yesterday Afragola there was another shootout (fortunately without dead) for a bank robbery. And I want to stop here, even if to say there would be many. What I want to say is that the Cilento, fortunately, is light years away from the province of Naples, and that the director would do well to run their course Secondigliano film in the post office closed after a robbery. So was also more comfortable without customers and staff ....
Ops, but we had to talk about a restaurant or not? Ok, I'll talk about a restaurant Cilento, who has nothing to do with Naples and its troubled province. We Ricigliano, a town famous for its bread, to the farm "Iuzzolino Filomena." It 's a beautiful Saturday in October, the sky is slightly cloudy by clouds, but luckily no rain. We arrive at the restaurant after a stop for a drink in downtown after a Buccino and played football with Supersantos, just to acknowledge us, we sit in the large room already furnished (we had booked) and now the very nice Mr. Gregory brings us bread and wine red table cloth on our course red and white checkered. Then came the really good starter country, with cold cuts and cheeses, then four dishes of delight: cunzato potatoes, endive, white beans and tomato salad
. Already half-full (unlike the other patrons of the place, all over 120 pounds, our stomachs have little capacity, and it is a sin) comes to the table we see a beautiful tray of dumplings (scazzatielli, it says here) to be dressed with ricotta salata. And it is only the first first, having followed them since the excellent ravioli, homemade (and hear!). Time for a toast to "those who do not see the bottom does not see the world" and are ready for a good mix of roast pork, lamb and veal, with many non-frozen French fries. Before the cake is also the time to chat with the owner, Gregory, who apologized to us because his wife has prepared the donuts. Just as well, one more reason to return! We return, and how we taste freselle with vin santo dessert, we would have preferred the donuts are hot but we are happy anyway. We pay (14 euro per person for all that you have read, interesting, right?) and not being in the province of Naples that we are not taken to wearing a helmet (see here ). Salute you, thank you, but first we have to pay toll to go to an old peasant woman who, almost compulsively, counsels us to buy its delicacies. My friends and I we manage with a bottle of wine, corn, squash and beans, although she had wanted buy more. I have just the 16, so we decide for a B2B (back to Buccino) for another cake, ice cream and another cup of coffee and a nice walk to the castle overlooking the old town. Town, so to speak, because almost all the houses are now abandoned and sold, and chatting with the friendly and talkative people
discover that they are at low prices: there are houses of two rooms that are sold even at 7,000 € (seven thousand, you read that right). Let us return to our cars fantasy, some more than others, moving to Buccino and compete for the office of mayor, at least to improve the manholes slippery when it rains. That is, the local council and the hike at all, slightly less than the first film. Welcome to the south, welcome Cilento.
as the main course that I can not mention all the dishes
recommended Tracklist: Arcade Fire - Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains)
Arcade Fire - Ready To Start
Friday, October 22, 2010
New Jersey Indoors Basketball Gyms
 |
| the border |
walk half an hour to go, the darkness does not create problems, I see perfectly the distant lights of the building housing my bed last night, also to keep me company I have the sound of cold wind that blows in my face and I have to drive the alternator to keep the torch lit. Half an hour of "gneek gneek gneek" some people have become so crazy. When I am almost at my destination I hear some noise around me, fortunately it was not an alpaca spit but came to the little fox that ran into the hotel to scrounge leftovers from customers, I renamed Rommel came to me hoping to have some cookies to give him, or even frozen to die so that I can eat my carcass.
 |
| Valley of the Moon |
The driver let me say here that I take a bus that passes in a quarter of an hour, again with the French to take them to Uyuni leaving them to wait in vain. After half an hour nothing ... I'm just the two soldiers and a few car going to cross the border. I ask the soldiers if they know when it arrives. They tell me that he left an hour earlier, then the driver or did not know or have been late and did a blind eye. A few seconds of terror to my fate, then I wonder if I take and pass other buses, yes, it relaxes me. Paid for the ticket and the bus takes me no problems in Chile, an hour's journey on a road Normal is so comfortable that I fall asleep.
 |
| Sunset over the valley of the moon |
month, then, in a civilized world and how we see the difference. I already miss the food prepared on the street, people you selling the fruit resting on the ground, and chaotic markets. The only thing I have left is the desert. Pure food is different. Tap water is drinkable! And do not rationed! Hot shower! Repurchase at least a bit of comfort that I had forgotten the past few days Bolivians.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Difference Between Ultrahd And Mino Hd
 |
| Mine in Potosi |
 |
| Island in the middle of the Salar |
 |
| Laguna de Cannabis |
Arrival in Uyuni starting point for the tour of the salar and cross the border with Chile, the city is simply a cluster of agencies that sell various travel packages, follow the advice of an Italian just met and I book a tour two nights. Uyuni in the evening to have the first signs of climate that awaits me: the night the temperature gets to minus two, so I woke up with frozen toes. Even showers will not speak here, have rationed water and want to let it get cold for 50 bolivianos.
 |
| Laguna Colorada |
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Have You Stepped On Someone With Stilettos
Bolivia Salar de Uyuni: Isla del Sol on the
There is still a decent connection so I can not put photos of Bolivia are those of this post from google
back from Machu Picchu in Cusco I spent another night in the evening after I got the bus to Lake Titicaca. How many backpackers from suggeritomi instead of stopping to Puno I crossed the border with Bolivia and went straight to Copacabana. At six o'clock in the morning makes us get off the bus and boarded up for twenty minutes in a combination that brings us to the border: a dirt road with a chain to lock the car and two armed soldiers.
Hurry border red tape and got a new stamp on my passport to another minibus takes us to the city by the lake. Here along with an English and a kiwi I decide to go to sleep for a night sull'isla instead of only in the city. The next two days I will confirm that it was one of my best ideas in recent months. Lake Titicaca is immense looking in places you do not see the land seems almost a sea water quiet and smooth. My boat is very slow, all others pass us and reach their destination in half the time, I console myself appreciating the scenery, beautiful, but in a few hours I would see better. From the port, an endless staircase leads to the town, it takes 20 minutes to make it to the first hostel, where he arrived out of breath (remember that the lake is at almost 4000m above sea level) I have no intention to seek shelter and ask the price of a room : 25 bolivianos! the exchange rate with the euro is almost 1 to 10! One German calls after me the price in English and she is 30! Fantastic, private room overlooking the lake. This is another of those places where people live outside world: no running water, a source of drinking water wells in the port a few meters from the lake. Women and mules are loaded back up and down all day jerry cans of water and bags of food to fill the reserves of the houses, people cultivate potatoes raising llamas or even their back from the port loading sacks of cement and other building materials, the island has in fact recently discovered the richness of tourism, the houses have turned us all into a pension for economic and meet the growing demand we are building more buildings to accommodate tourists and rest, in short I could see natural beauty before man destroys it in order to allow more people to see what there will be no more.
I know a couple of Brits and their head for the ruins of the island, after a short walk to see them from afar and captivates me, then decided to leave the two Englishmen on their own and begin to climb the terraces, the island is completely terraced to the top. The other side of the mountain hid a beautiful bay, a Norwegian fjord in miniature, at that moment I decided that I would have spent more than a night on the island. Meanwhile, a pastor known as a Bolivian that I sat staring at the horizon, the poor guy probably wanted to sit in a little peace after a hard day's work but I completely indifferent to this eventuality I sat next to him and started to speak, after the initial pleasantries, I asked him what was grown on the island and in that moment he began a dissertation on the potatoes 10 minutes, he knew all of the potatoes ...
the evening I go to dinner with a group of Londoners, needless to say that the conversation ended up in London excluding them from the conversation.
I remade leaving the restaurant, given the total absence of lights on the island and the enormous distance that separates it from any other town in the sky you can see an unimaginable quantity of stars, some seem larger than others, but after closer inspection you can see that they are simply more nearby stars.
The best was yet to come, the day after I wake up with the chickens at dawn, my room faces east and light tents do not prevent the sun just risen to share it. I have breakfast and I just put it into gear to reach the northern tip of the island, it would take three hours but after about half the time I climbed on the terraces feel the effort and go back after a week still I'm used to the altitude . Is ° I returned home I put on the terrace on the moleskine to write and sew the banners on the backpack. Yesterday, the scene was a beautiful blue expanse with another island in the center and the horizon obscured by clouds. Now something has changed, fortunately, a small island and lake are still in place, but more clouds are thinned out in the distance to the center of my view there are four jagged snowy peaks cut in half by some cloud, surrounded by barren hills burnt by sun, the braying of a donkey in the distance adds color to the landscape. Here we should probably
few words to close the post but I can not find 
There is still a decent connection so I can not put photos of Bolivia are those of this post from google
back from Machu Picchu in Cusco I spent another night in the evening after I got the bus to Lake Titicaca. How many backpackers from suggeritomi instead of stopping to Puno I crossed the border with Bolivia and went straight to Copacabana. At six o'clock in the morning makes us get off the bus and boarded up for twenty minutes in a combination that brings us to the border: a dirt road with a chain to lock the car and two armed soldiers.
Hurry border red tape and got a new stamp on my passport to another minibus takes us to the city by the lake. Here along with an English and a kiwi I decide to go to sleep for a night sull'isla instead of only in the city. The next two days I will confirm that it was one of my best ideas in recent months. Lake Titicaca is immense looking in places you do not see the land seems almost a sea water quiet and smooth. My boat is very slow, all others pass us and reach their destination in half the time, I console myself appreciating the scenery, beautiful, but in a few hours I would see better. From the port, an endless staircase leads to the town, it takes 20 minutes to make it to the first hostel, where he arrived out of breath (remember that the lake is at almost 4000m above sea level) I have no intention to seek shelter and ask the price of a room : 25 bolivianos! the exchange rate with the euro is almost 1 to 10! One German calls after me the price in English and she is 30! Fantastic, private room overlooking the lake. This is another of those places where people live outside world: no running water, a source of drinking water wells in the port a few meters from the lake. Women and mules are loaded back up and down all day jerry cans of water and bags of food to fill the reserves of the houses, people cultivate potatoes raising llamas or even their back from the port loading sacks of cement and other building materials, the island has in fact recently discovered the richness of tourism, the houses have turned us all into a pension for economic and meet the growing demand we are building more buildings to accommodate tourists and rest, in short I could see natural beauty before man destroys it in order to allow more people to see what there will be no more. 
I know a couple of Brits and their head for the ruins of the island, after a short walk to see them from afar and captivates me, then decided to leave the two Englishmen on their own and begin to climb the terraces, the island is completely terraced to the top. The other side of the mountain hid a beautiful bay, a Norwegian fjord in miniature, at that moment I decided that I would have spent more than a night on the island. Meanwhile, a pastor known as a Bolivian that I sat staring at the horizon, the poor guy probably wanted to sit in a little peace after a hard day's work but I completely indifferent to this eventuality I sat next to him and started to speak, after the initial pleasantries, I asked him what was grown on the island and in that moment he began a dissertation on the potatoes 10 minutes, he knew all of the potatoes ... the evening I go to dinner with a group of Londoners, needless to say that the conversation ended up in London excluding them from the conversation.
I remade leaving the restaurant, given the total absence of lights on the island and the enormous distance that separates it from any other town in the sky you can see an unimaginable quantity of stars, some seem larger than others, but after closer inspection you can see that they are simply more nearby stars.
few words to close the post but I can not find
Friday, October 8, 2010
Coverage Under Aetna Dental Dmo Versus Ppo
What Happened Machu Picchu
Early next morning I go check-out and head to the address where I wait for the minibus To begin the trek. In the group are all but two English Argentina. At 7:00 we leave for our first stop: a step Andes at 4,300 meters above sea level. From there we catapult down the downhill mountain bike to reach the village of Santa Maria.
It takes half a day's downhill, there is also offered lunch: with unleavened bread into a slices.
I have no desire to star in describing the scenery, however spectacular, which I saw as we descended, the thing that most impressed me during these four days are the places where these people live. Completely isolated from the hours away our civilization, those who are not in the villages living in another world: no electricity in some cases as the only livelihood her chickens the land for farming and barter when it needs something that can not self-produce, also remedied for some soles from us tourists you want to take a picture.
arrived in Santa Maria is the crossroads at which I was a city which in Italy would call "slums." Asphalt is not existed for many kilometers before the roof is always a corrugated iron and often the walls, the bricks of the houses outside the villages are made from mud and straw third element that I do not know, being in the middle of the jungle and a river in the Andean air, there are more insects that nitrogen atoms. From 3 to 6 at some point you have to keep a hand in front of your nose and mouth to avoid inhaling any fly. Then flies that are not common: they have a yellow body and despite the repellent bite and suck blood, in contrast to our lovely now after the bite of these mosquitoes (cursed) is not just a bubble, but leaving a few drops of blood, the continuous shall ignite scratching the bite, if you can stand the itch is just a red dot on the skin.
I wanted to say something about these small towns in the middle of the Andes, but digression on the mosquitoes made me forget everything.
The hostel is very basic (even if a synonym can be more emphatic: Peruvian) only one bathroom for about thirty people window my room is broken, newspaper and scotch replace the glass very well. I'm in a room with two Englishmen, three came at us while we throw on the bed and wonder what we can do until dinner the guide offers us rafting. The river for the rafting I had my first encounter with the multitude of insects that is here, after a dip in the river I found myself on a calf a species of earthworm. In the evening we went to the restaurant for a menu applicant in the next four days: soup and rice, not bad at first because they have a great variety of soups, but the third time you feel the need of something substantial.
The second day, another early, the five already on the march in the street you only see the village children who go to take the colectivos that will take them to school, the nearest town that resembles something civilized is a couple of hours away, the distance is not excessive, but the lack of a proper road makes traveling much slower and more difficult.
The first 5km is not difficult, it's cool to walk up along the river (killed insects), to give me more energy as we all chew coca leaves, is a strange feeling to have in pocket for a bag whose contents I think I would be arrested in Italy but here it is perfectly legal, even across the various plantations of coca has the same effect.
After an hour we leave the river and start to climb up the mountain every half hour walk to meet Peruvian women with their traditional costumes and hats for men, selling water and the farther we get from the village as the price rises. After a couple of hours we reach an isolated house on a mountain ridge, there are hammocks for rest and a kind of miniature zoo to ask for money to those who pass if he wants to take pictures with animals, the most interesting is a picure stealing bottles of gatorade and drink content.
my decline started around midday, as I was told that he would not cold but I took the cap fleece jacket and hat from Peru, a serious mistake ago inhuman and a warm hat that makes things worse, I arrive at the restaurant for lunch with a headache and not even touch my epic fantastic soup, in theory, three other hour walk separate us from the hot springs and from there another half hour to the next village. I do I can do it and together with a Chilean who has touched my own fate I do bring to the village by the owner The rough road is not helping my headache.
Santa Teresa, about one thousand inhabitants of the village is located 32km from yesterday, is a bit more developed than the first: the main street is paved and cemented, but there is also a pharmacy, I came back this very useful Having not brought them aspirin and paracetamol do not even the dissenter because I thought I would just be unlucky to get sick in these 4 days. In the pharmacy there are two women who do not give the impression of knowing what you sell but when you have no choice ...
I sleep all afternoon and evening the headache I was completely spent. Soup for dinner again, to enliven the evening will take care of a monkey who sneaks into the restaurant and starts running for the tables, taking bread, drinking from glasses and jumping into the soup of some hapless bystander nell'ilarità, the monkey will disappear within a lot in the hands of the owner of the restaurant. After that I stop eating and go to the pharmacy to ask for something to prevent the fever as I start to feel bad, arrival in the room with no energy, I have to lie down before engaging in a bloody battle with the bugs that I discovered live in my own room. It will survive one, which despite having walked twice managed to escape through a hole in the wall, I spent the night with the lights on in terror to come back to avenge his comrades. Obviously, the beetle has not come but the fever.
The third day was not quite able to walk, then why I have abandoned the risotrante near the railroad linking Santa Teresa to Agua Calientes the only sign of civilization in these lands lost. I wait until the evening sleeping on a hammock in the restaurant. Also take the train here is a special event: there is a station, only one track in the mountains around it and Peruvian tourists with huge bags as suitcases waiting. The mountain is too steep for the train before it leaves the valley must undertake a march back and forth four or five times. The arrival in Agua Calientes is much folklore: the tracks crossing the main street and is downloaded on the sidewalk in front of restaurants.
the fourth day are resurrected in time in time for Machu Picchu at dawn in a row I start to get a ticket and I can also do a good walk of 4 hours. But as they say luck is blind but bad luck sees us well: shortly after they entered the archaeological site of the engine that pulls the lens of the camera ceases to perform his duty ...
end of this interminable post ...
If you wanted to read about Machu Picchu discpiace me ... Ahora Bolivia
 |
| From the top of the pass |
 |
| |
I have no desire to star in describing the scenery, however spectacular, which I saw as we descended, the thing that most impressed me during these four days are the places where these people live. Completely isolated from the hours away our civilization, those who are not in the villages living in another world: no electricity in some cases as the only livelihood her chickens the land for farming and barter when it needs something that can not self-produce, also remedied for some soles from us tourists you want to take a picture.
 |
| The center of santa maria |
I wanted to say something about these small towns in the middle of the Andes, but digression on the mosquitoes made me forget everything.
 |
| few hours before the collapse |
The second day, another early, the five already on the march in the street you only see the village children who go to take the colectivos that will take them to school, the nearest town that resembles something civilized is a couple of hours away, the distance is not excessive, but the lack of a proper road makes traveling much slower and more difficult.
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| picure |
After an hour we leave the river and start to climb up the mountain every half hour walk to meet Peruvian women with their traditional costumes and hats for men, selling water and the farther we get from the village as the price rises. After a couple of hours we reach an isolated house on a mountain ridge, there are hammocks for rest and a kind of miniature zoo to ask for money to those who pass if he wants to take pictures with animals, the most interesting is a picure stealing bottles of gatorade and drink content.
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Santa Teresa, about one thousand inhabitants of the village is located 32km from yesterday, is a bit more developed than the first: the main street is paved and cemented, but there is also a pharmacy, I came back this very useful Having not brought them aspirin and paracetamol do not even the dissenter because I thought I would just be unlucky to get sick in these 4 days. In the pharmacy there are two women who do not give the impression of knowing what you sell but when you have no choice ...
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| not scratch |
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| "The Station" |
the fourth day are resurrected in time in time for Machu Picchu at dawn in a row I start to get a ticket and I can also do a good walk of 4 hours. But as they say luck is blind but bad luck sees us well: shortly after they entered the archaeological site of the engine that pulls the lens of the camera ceases to perform his duty ...
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| And finally Machu Picchu |
end of this interminable post ...
If you wanted to read about Machu Picchu discpiace me ... Ahora Bolivia
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