Ayahuasca - Let go and Let Be

Ayahuasca is a hallucinogenic plant infusion that is used for healing and divinatory purposes by the indigenous people of the Amazon in Peru. Ayahuasca is an important part of Inca philosophy, enabling an awakening that opens one´s heart and allows the transformation of suffering into love and compassion, as well as creating or futhering a relationship with Pachamama, Mother Nature. It allows you to find the origin of negative karma and turn it into positive by aligning your relationship with nature, which, I think we can all agree, many cultures have fallen out from. Ayahuasca is used by Shamans to heal a variety of psychological and spiritual illnesses and can also be used to initiate people in their process of personal development and help heal physical ailments. 

So after hearing all these splendid things about this epiphany-invoking, life-changing, soul-bettering drug I was disappointed. I'm not going to lie, I thought it would be much, much more profound than what it was. I thought it would be quiet and calm in my head and I would receive beautiful and direct visions with soul-shaking clarity. Instead it was pretty chaotic. I had unbelievably loud and non-stop ringing in my ears which was incredibly overwhelming (especially for someone with a hearing loss), making it incredibly hard to concentrate. My mind was going a million miles an hour but with thoughts that seemed very superficial. My visions were more like I was drunk and imaging silly little things of no significance or substance and with very little shape or realness to them. The few times I did think I had visions that seemed somewhat significant it felt like they came from my head, not my heart. Except one. I saw a tiger, a tiger that I knew lived inside of me or was a manifestation of me (which is cool as my papa calls me Tige as a nickname, ever since I was tiny). My mind thought the tiger had always been in me, protecting me and bringing me courage. I saw him and I knew he was going to stay beside me for the entire ayahuasca trip, to guide me and to protect me. Which was a little counteractive as I then went on to think I was going to have a magnificent adventure in my head, albeit perhaps a little scary or dangerous. Which didn't really happen, at least to the extremes I was expecting. I also thought I imagined a snake, briefly, although I felt like that was my mind telling me what to imagine. A snake is the symbol of Mother Ayahuasca and one of the Pachamama symbols and is a vision that is notoriously encountered by many people. As one of my aims of taking ayahuasca was to solidify my relationship with nature, which I hold in the absolute highest regard, I really thought that taking Ayahuasca would allow me to experience a vision of Pachamama, Mother Nature, who would bring me some sort of message or epiphany, especially in relation to what sort of path I should follow in terms of employment as this is a source of confusion in my life at the moment. However, with the constant ringing in my hears and the jumbled, seemingly insignificant pictures/thoughts I didn't feel like I had a particularly spiritual journey. I finished Ayahasca very worried that I thought too much with my mind and not my heart even though I was trying so hard not to. I was so disappointed that I didn't have a more profound experience, as I felt incredibly ready to receive a message about my life in this medium, that I almost cried. The catalyst in ending the first nights experience of ayahuasca was when I thought I had been hit in the side of the head. The ringing in my ears had gotten so unbelievably and unbearably, incredibly loud and then it suddenly ended when I jerked wide awake, body totally frozen, because I thought I had been hit by something totally solid on the side of my head. I actually looked around to see if anyone nearby had played an extremely nasty trick on me. But nope, turns out Ayahuasca is a physical and mental experience. And I decided to take getting walloped in the side of the head by an invisible hand as a sign that I needed to quiet my mind.

Besides doing two Ayahuasca sessions we partook in a few other very necessary ceremonies on this retreat as well. The first one was a coca leaf reading by a Shaman in which he manipulated coca leaves (very sacred to most South Americans but Peruvians in particular) that are often used in ceremonies for the Gods as symbolic offerings. Three coca leaves represent three lives (past, present and future), as well as representing, in this case, Mother Pachamama, Mother Ayahuasca and one's own Mother. After reading different coca leaves the Shaman deemed us ready to take Ayahuasca after a cleansing ceremony. This ceremony involved us individually imaging ridding ourselves of toxins and bad energies as we were briskly shook over with a Condor feather. During the Ayahuasca ceremony this feather was also used to shake off any bad energies that may arise or try to penetrate our open, and therefore vulnerable, minds, as well as lots of flower poitions to protect us and special tobacco smoke. The final ceremony was after the two Ayahuasca sessions and involved us and the Shaman making offerings and blessing to Pachamama. Anyway, along with the ceremonies came opportunities to discuss our visions with the Shaman. After telling him (through a translator as he spoke Quechua) my somewhat subdued experience he decided I needed more cleansing as I may have a blockage between my head and heart due to a history of depression. So lots more feather clearing, poking and prodding commenced until I was deemed ready. I had also made a conscious decision to not put so much pressure on the experience, lower my expectations and really just let go and let be (which is something I have been trying to implement more into my everyday life). 

So the second night started with a lot more promise and a lot less expectations. 5 of us were on the retreat together, the boy and myself, a young Australian guy, a German woman and a guy from Argentina. Although it is common to take Ayahuasca outside, to be a part of nature, we were taking it inside in a beautiful room with lots of windows and glass panels in the ceiling. It was gorgeous as it was raining quite heavily with thunder and lighting and we could see it all above our heads. I remember thinking even before taking Ayahuasca that Pachmama was in the rain. It was night, as Ayahuasca is recommended to be consumed at nighttime to minimalise stimulation and focus internally on one´s mind, and we were all sitting on sleeping bags with the Shaman and his two assistants in front of us. After the customary prayers and rituals to invoke protection we all drunk Ayahuasca, a really foul tasting and smelling thick, brown brew. We all had started off with equal amounts the night before but after witnessing how it affected everyone differently (I got to have two cups of the stuff yuck) on the second night we were given different portions. Anyway, once Ayahuasca has been drunk it causes you to vomit expelling bad toxins and negative energy. I don´t want to go into other peoples experiences in our group too much as it is not my place, but one poor guy had an incredibly horrible experience and spent the good part of 4 hours vomiting. So after vomiting I layed back in my sleeping bag, watching the rain through the class ceiling panel and let my mind wander.

I saw my tiger, I saw a blur of animals, of stars, colours, shapes, bursts of light. I saw the Shaman transform into an old woman before my eyes and the feather headpiece he wore got bigger seemed to be floating away. His voice cut through the darkness and became an anchor in the midst of my mind. At one stage the poor Argentinean guy was fighting demons in his head and was yelling and screaming and physically lashing out and I started to get very scared thinking that the devil himself was in the poor guy. But the sweet old Shaman´s voice, his chanting and singing overpowered the devil´s voice and brought calm to me. I became a little bird and pecked at my twin sister´s head, releasing streams of sunlight and pain that causes her intense migraines. I saw two big eyes peeking out of a green hillside mound that belonged to a little boy with brown hair and who I think may one day be my son. I saw beautiful sceneries of landscapes and colors and although it wasn't as clear, nor did it hold some fundamental message that I hoped it would, I think I did see Pachamama in the rain. And perhaps that was my lesson, not to expect or hope that the significant messages in my life show themselves crystal-clear and present themselves on a plate for me but perhaps I need to Let go and Let be and take things for what they simply are. And quite frankly, in the midst of my ayahuasca-ladden colorful mind, beneath the hammering rain of mother nature, they seemed quite beautiful. 

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)

i fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you


here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

Machu Picchu

The Inca trek was the physically hardest and most rewarding thing I´ve ever done. It was 4 days of trekking, 42 kilometres long, and had ascents of 4,200 metres above sea level. It was so physically and mentally intense and I´m not going to lie, I struggled. The first day was actually the hardest for me. We started out with false confidence as the morning walk didn´t appear to be too difficult. That quickly changed as the afternoon trek became more and more uphill. The thought of ´just get to the top of this hill then have a break´quickly evaporated as the hill literally went on for 4 hours. Ah the joys of trekking in the Andes. Whilst the boy and I had done a tiny bit of training, the flatness of Australia combined with the low altitude basically rendered it worthless. Plus, those who know me know I´m certainly not the biggest fan of intense exercise. This along with the combination of altitude sickness kicking in made for a very confronting and abrupt thought.  What if I actually can´t do this? Honestly, the crack in my mindset that this thought created sunsequently provided an opportunity for my sneaky self-esteem to fill my mind with doubt and it was devestating. Luckily for me I´ve somehow bagged a boy who, after tolerating a near tear or two, pulled me into place. This superstar literally carried my pack for almost 2 hours whilst I tried not to vomit from the altitude and continue to put one foot in front of the other. And it slowly got better. Much better. I slowly adjusted to the altitude (although I was definitely sick - a bacterial infection almost immediately after the Inca Trek put me into hospital for a night) and slowly managed to pick up the pace. I actually wasn´t last and, as embarrassingly egotisitical as this thought was, unfortunately when I am getting my ass kicked it made me feel better and more determined. So between the boy´s support and feeling much more capable I finished this emotional first day of the Inca Trek. What was also massively encouraging and intriging was the amazing Inca ruins we passed on the way. On the first day we saw the Inca hillfort of Huillca Raccay. The Incas, when they conquered the area, built a fort here since the site commanded an excellent view up and down the Urubamba valley and controlled the entrance to the Cusichaca Valley. We also saw the Inca ruins of Llactapata, literally following the footsteps of the explorer Hiram Bingham as he discovered this agricultural station in 1911.

The second day saw me awake with enormous trepidation yet the little voice telling me I wouldnt be able to do it was replaced with a voice saying ´well you´re going to see Machu Picchu regardless so get on with it´. And that´s exactly what I did. Day two is physically the hardest day for everyone, we climbed basically the whole day. We ascended to 4, 215 metres above sea level to Abra de Huarminhuanusca, or Dead Woman´s pass (aptly named but not for the hikers it threatens, more to do with the shape of the mountain pass as it looks likes a woman lying down). We all struggled our way to the top plugged into our ipods for some much needed motivation (thank you Beyonce). So the biggest cliche ever turns out to be true: the harder something is, the more accomplished you feel you feel when you complete it. Our group was 13 people, all really friendly and encouraging and there´s nothing like a bonding session as trekking an ancient path leading to a sacred city.

Day three was probably my favourite day. We were officially trekking through the Cloud Forest and it was amazing. Despite a bit of rain which made the trek a little difficult as it was mainly downhill, it made for some spectacular scenery. The forest this high up is lush and green and full of beautiful dense trees and colourful little flowers.Some of the walking was a little scary on this day as a lot of it was downhill on narrow paths and sometimes we had to tip toe along cliff walkways with no railings. Clouds swept in and out in white bubbles of moisture as we marched through them and then surprised us by suddenly unveiling some incredible Inca ruins. My favourite was Wiñay Wayna, meaning ´forever young´in Quechua, named after a variety of pink orchids that you can find growing here. It was so beautiful. The view was incredible and as these things go it was the one place I didn´t bringmy camera to, so it is going to have to remain in a specialplace in my head and in my heart. Dense green forest gave way to green slopes that tumbled down into terraces whilst stone ruins lead to secret passages and temples. Built on the side of a mountain the ruins comprise of a rainbow temple and magnificent agricultural terraces that are surrounded by huge shadowing mountains and a river that runs off to one side, all bathed in cloud. Kim and I sat there long enough to feel like we were the only people in the world totally and utterly enchanted by this wonderful, magnificant and magical place. 

Wiñay Wayna also helped give me a little more inspiration for what I hope will one day soon become my anthropological PhD topic. I hope you will forgive me for occasionally using this blog as a little bit of a sounding board (in which I would love for you to get in contact with me if you have any opinions) for ideas on this. For a while now I´ve been pondering over how to ground a thesis topic that is based on my emerging world views about some things I consider very important, into anthropology. Very broadly speaking Anthropology is the study of people and cultures, so obviously it cannot be a paper on my beliefs. However, the more I learn about the Indigenous people of South America, Peru in particular, the more I feel I may be able to flesh this idea out in an anthropological way. Basically, in short, as this paragraph is really for my benefit and I don´t want to bore you, I want to explore how modern western socities can regain a compassionate relationship with the earth before we continue to fuck it up past the point of no-return. And I now think the answer lies in Indigenous knowledge systems about the environment. I know I am a dreamer for thinking that the poisonous parts Western world will suddenly put aside its aspirations for wealth and power at the expense of the environment but I do think that as our limited resources run out we are going to have to engage in a massive paradigm shift in our cultural collective consciousness in order to survive. And I think we need to look back and around at the cultures that have and still do continue to live in harmony with their environment. The Indigenous cultures that I have been exploring in Peu have such beneficial relationships with their external world, embedded in their religious and belief systems (such as the goddess Pachamama - more on her later) that allow them to have a totally symbiotic and peaceful relationship with their earth. 

Anyway, sorry for the little rambling tangent, and I will continue on with the Inca Trek. We had a free afternoon after the rainbow temple and our great guide, Darwin, suggested we do something fun for our porters. We all instantly agreed as these guys are absolutely incredible. 17 of them, all local farmers who work the Inca trail on their down time, carry approximately 25kgs of weight on their backs. This includes our tents, food, tables, chairs, cooking equipment sleeping bags, some of our luggage and much much more. These guys ranged from 18 - 60 years old and their fitness levels are absolutely insane. Whilst I´ve been telling you how difficult it is to walk the Inca Trek with a 3 or 4kg backpack these guys literally run the trail with their enormous loads on their backs. They arrive at our lunch destinations and campsites hours before us (and leave after us after packing up) and have everything set up for us when we arrive. It was amazing to arrive at camp after an intense day of trekking and have a bucket of warm water to wash in, a hot drink and snack waiting for us before enjoying a 3 course dinner. The food was incredible, much better than a lot of restaurants we have eaten at. On the last night they somehow managed to make a cake for one of the girls birthdays on a little stove burner. Amazing. After arriving on the afternoon of the third day and having proper introductions with the porters we decided to say thanks to them by cooking them afternoon tea. It was hilarous. Apparently it had only happened one time before and they were so excited, even after we made a right mess. It just went to show how incredibly humble and sincere these guys are and they deserve enormous respect and recognition. 

Day four we arrived at Machu Picchu. This is somewhere I have dreamed of going to for an incredibly long time. Stories of Inca folklore and history always interested me growing up, but more than that they astounded me. The Inca´s were at the absolute forefront of technological and intellectual innovations of their time and we were lucky enough to witness some of the archeaological remains of this culture. The Inca Empire is surrounded by myths and legends that all pay homage to their incredibly mysterious culture that unfortunately were destroyed by the Spanish. One of the most famous Inca Kings, Pachacuti begun the time of the far-reaching Inca expansion in 1438 AD. Pachacuti´s name literally meant ¨world-shaker¨, which is incredibly appropriate for the political, military, cultural, economic and technological advances that the Incas brought to the Andes and the rest of the world. 

A great way to finish off this incredible adventure was to see some of my favourite people in the world. My parents, being the explorers they are, decided to come to Peru after I left one too many brochures on the kitchen table. However, they decided to do a spiritual pilgrimage around parts of Peru which seemed to have a totally opposite schedule to ours and we seemed to be missing each other by a few hours distance on more than one occasion. So Kim and I jumped off the bus an hour or so earlier than we were supposed to on the way back from Machu Picchu to surprise them. It was awesome. We sat on the steps of their gorgeous hotel, unshowered, minimal washed in clothes we had been trekking in, basically being the filthy backpackers we´ve become. Kim heard my parents coming back from their walk so we sat quietly until they poked their heads around the wall. It was so great, Pete swepted me up in a massive hug whilst mama just stood their and screeched. I didn´t realise how much I had missed them until I saw them and didn´t want to let them go. We ended up staying the night and although I was still ill, which continued to get worse, it was so lovely to see them. If you two adventurers, the original dreamers and wanderers, are reading this I love you both enormously.

following the Inca footsteps

"The sight of the huge world put mad ideas into me, as if I could wander away, wander forever, see strange and beautiful things, one after the other ... "

C.S Lewis

Puerto Maldonaldo

We escaped to the jungle for 4 days which I had been dying to do after spending far too much time in busy cities. After a horrendous overnight bus ride we arrived in Puerto Maldonaldo, 14 hours north-east of Cusco. We then took a 45 minutes boat ride down the river and found ourselves in the Amazon. Although it was secondary, not primary, rainforest it was spectacular. The hot, sticky jungle was filled with an incredible amount of creatures and we were fortunate enough to spot caiman, squirrel monkeys, spider monkeys, tamarind monkeys, tarantulas, macaws, parrots, turtles, frigs and a lot of creepy crawlers. We went Caiman spotting at night on a longboat, went trekking through the jungle on monkey island, walked among the top of the trees on a canopy walk then flew among these trees as we zip-lined furiously through them, kayaked as hard as we could upstream then quickly got washed back downstream, tried to spot the critter in our room who stole our food at night, fished for piranhas, catfish and an interestingly named ass-fish, and spend hours playing with a baby spider monkey in a hammock. And we rowed along tiny rivers that pooled into a massive lake where we swum in caiman, piranha and anaconda-infested waters whilst squirrel monkeys played overhead. 

Isn't life glorious? 

lets dance on the ashes of whats left

In our life we do things. Some we wish we had never done. Some we wish we could replay a million times in our heads, over and over. But they all make us who we are, and in the end they shape every detail about us. If we were to reverse of any of them we wouldn't be the people we are. So just live, make mistakes, have wonderful memories, but never ever second guess who you are, where you have been, and most importantly, where it is where you are going.

Bits of Buenos Aires, Santiago, Valparaiso and Concon

The boy and I arrived in Valparaiso after a crazy week in Buenos Aires and a few days in Santiago. Buenos Aires consisted in me dragging the boy around to show him all the sites, boozy nights with old and new friends, and a rowdy world cup football game where we were seated with the locals in a barb wired section (thank god Argentina won). Santiago was quite interesting, we stayed in a Barro called Bellavista which was full of bohemian cafes, restaurants and galleries.

After a few days exploring we jumped on a bus and headed to the coast, to Valparaiso. Valparaiso is a combination of a slightly grungy city port and steep hills covered in art. Valparaiso´s houses paint the landscape in bursts of colour which are connected by funiculars. The graffiti is pure artwork, ensuring the long-standing reputation of Valparaiso as artists´ coven continues on. We stayed in the midst of the colour, a top Cerro Conception. The surrounding streets twisted into connecting alleyways, murals that carry on from wall to wall which each bend and dip, whispering the cities stories to those who listen closely enough. Loveable street dogs roam Valparaiso, joining tours, chasing cars, getting kicked out of shops and funiculars, begging for a bite of an empanada, and making friends (or enemies in the case of one particularly boisterous pup called Wolvering, due to his ability to withstand multiple car hits). Afters making friends we found ourselves at the Chilean food and wine festival which was rather fancy for us backpackers but was enormous fun nonetheless, especially in part to the copious amounts of Chilean and Argentinean wine. 

To carry on this luxurious lie of a life we headed to the coast to Concon for the boys birthday. Concon is a tiny little town on the seaside and I was once again so happy to be next to the ocean again. We ate ridiculous seafood and rested our weary heads in an incredible boutique hotel where our room opened up onto the ocean. Pure bliss.

and those who danced were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music

To those who stay put

the world is but an imaginary place.

But to the movers, the makers, 

the dreamers and the shakers,

the world is all around them.

An endless invitation

Rio de Janerio

Sorry for the lack of updates mi amigos. My boy flew over to join me in Buenos Aires and there has been many exciting things to show him in that gorgeous city. Before he came though I said goodbye to my lovely travel buddy Sharna and spent a week in Rio de Janerio by myself. I got off the plane in Rio feeling so tired and sick but the hot stinky scent of the ocean was so invigorating. It was that stench of humidity that just hits you and is so tantalizing because it teases you with the smell of the sea, which, after 5 weeks of no ocean after being used to seeing it at the end of my street every single day back in Australia, was much desired. I somehow managed to score a super lush hostel which was very social and luxurious so inbetween trips to the beach and the pool there were many new friends to be made and way too many nights coming home as the sun was coming up. Rio is definitely a party city! Besides dancing the nights away to Samba I went on a few other noteworthy adventures. The first is obvious, Christo Redentor, the Christ the Redeemer Statue; the second, Escadaria de Selaron, the Stairway to Heaven; and the last, the Dona Marta Favela, which was probably my favourite.

Christo Redentor is one of the 7 Wonders of the World and it is very easy to see why. It sits atop the highest point in Rio de Janerio, on the peak of the Corcovado mountain in the Tijuca Forest National Park, overlooking the city. It is absolutely massive and so imposing (like most Catholic/Christian monuments I suppose), standing at 30 metres tall, not including its 8 metres pedestal, and its arms stretch 28 metres wide. It is very impressive and quite lovely to be honest. Im not the biggest fan of religious icons but this statue is supposed to represent peace, symbolised by Christ`s open arms and it is situated in such a beautiful place with lush green jungle surrounding it and a steep winding cobblestone road linking it to the city below (which on ascending and descending it in an old combi van was an adventure on its on). Plus I saw a monkey!

The Stairway to Heaven, Escadaria de Selaron is very appropriately named. A colourful stiarway of mosaics wind down from Santa Teresa (an incredible neighbourhood of its own - previously owned by the wealthy these cobblestone alleys now consist of crumbling derelict mansions tainted by some impressive graffiti) to Lapa, a dodgy but fun suburb. An eccentric Chilean artist, Jorge Selaron, started decorating the dilapidated steps that ran along the front of his house in 1990, and covered some 250 steps with over 2000 colourful tiles. He started decorating the steps with tiles that he scavenged from construction sites and waste found on the streets of Rio. Later on, as the steps gained publicity, he was able to use tiles from over 65 different countries that had been donated from visitors from all over the world. You can tell just from looking at these steps that they were a massive labour of love from an artist which eventually became all consuming. About 300 of the tiles were hand painted by Seralon and he was constantly changing sections of the steps so that it was an ever evolving piece of art, one that was never completed due to his death. Seralon killed himself on his beloved steps earlier this year as he always said he would. He told his friends (including my very knowledgeable tour guide) to buy his artwork when he died as it would be immensely more valuable after his death and that the only way his "crazy and unique dream will end is on the day of my death". A true artist to the very end. The only silver lining to his death as well is that tourists and locals alike can now sit on the steps without the threat of getting beaten by Selaron as he guarded his artwork fiercely.

The Favelas were something else entirely. For those of you who dont know, the favelas are the shanty towns in Brazil that were created by former soliders and slaves who had no land ownership and no options for work. They were called `favela` after the vegetation these dwellings were built amongst that provided shade and protection, as well as hiding spots when necesaary. I went to Dona Marta, in the south zone of Rio de Janerio, one of the biggest urban favelas. It was the first favela to be pacified in 2008 by Rio`s first Pacifying Police Unit. Since then there has been minimal drug trafficking (although I absolutely spotted some shady drug dealers there) and is open to tourists (guided of course) to enable foreigners to gain an insight into this harsh yet close community. Dona Marta (also occasionally referred to as Santa Marta) has close to 10, 000 residents with over 2, 500 houses. There are kindergardens, day-cares, eateries, a ju-jitsu school (where I was actually invited to try out my very basic white-belt skills) and a police station. Being the steepest favela in the city it also had as a furnicular. Whilst there is now a basic sewage system, water piping and some electrical cables the favela definitely still had a shanty-town feel to it. Houses and shelters are constantly falling down, thanks to frequent earthquakes and limited sturdy building structures, yet the houses just get rebuilt time and time again. This process of rebuilding seems an accurate representation of the people I met whilst I was there. In the face of harsh adversity you will continue to find, time and time again, notions and actions of friendship and resilience in this close-knit community. I think my favourite example is when a new house is built and new residents appear (which are only allowed in if invited by existing residents due to the increasing lack of space) the entire community pitches in to help built the new house. The first and foremost step is a big party on the building site, which is attended by all members of the community. Not only is this a bonding experience, and of course an excuse for a rowdy party (which will all know Brazilians are totally capable of), but also helps the building process by compacting the dirt floor. To me, this union of these proud people despite constant challenges perfectly portrays the spirit of the people who live in this shantytown in the heart of urban Rio.  

One of Dona Marta`s claims to fame:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QNJL6nfu__Q

Check out this awesome project that I was priviledged enough to witness in Dona Marta:

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/picturegalleries/worldnews/10257284/The-Favela-Painting-project-in-Santa-Marta-favela-in-Rio-De-Janeiro-Brazil.html?frame=2649648

Sounds of the unfamiliar

But that's the glory of foreign travel, as far as I am concerned.I don't want to know what people are talking about. I can't think of anything that excites a greater sense of childlike wonder than to be in a country where you are ignorant of almost everything. Suddenly you are five years old again.  You can't read anything, you have only the most rudimentary sense of how things work, you can't even reliably cross a street without endangering your life. Your whole existence becomes a series of interesting guesses

- Bill Bryson

Buenos Aires, Argentina

 

 

So this is a city of contradictions. I both love and hate it.

I hate that within an hour of being here some naughty opportunists tricked my poor friend and made off with my backpack with my beloved camera in it (along with plenty of other goodies). It was a present from my parents for my graduation and it is (was) the most favourite thing I own. I feel like travelling is incomplete now I cannot see my world through a camera lens and transport a little of it to you. I hate that there are such marvellous things to see and I cannot show you and I know that with time I will not remember them as I did in that moment. I hate that in 24 years of travelling it was one of the first times I have felt really vulnerable.

I love the cobblestone streets that wind between European buildings of grandeur and mystery. I hate playing hop, skip, jump with the massive amounts of dog poo. I do however, love watching one person struggle to take a dozen of these playful pups for walkies. I hate that I have now put pepper spray in my bag for those dark walks home. I love that my eyeballs feel like they are going to fall out of my head because I am greedily trying to soak up every last sight. I love the colours and the sounds of this city. I love that I have to carry a map on me because we wander down street after street chasing beautiful buildings, street festivals, the smell of choripan, sounds of tango dancing, flashes of colourful houses, little glimpses of lives bathed in sunshine and music. 

Okay, I love it.