How life should be lived.

Tough and extreme, Patagonia.

It’s been just over 6 months since I first landed in Quito, Ecuador. The day I first set foot in South America is still as clear today as it was back then. I’m now in North America, somewhere in Colorado and still find myself daydreaming about days I spent in school learning Spanish, nights I spent in Patagonia wondering if my tent would last the night in the hurricane force winds. I miss countries, people and time. Everything is still so clear but I look at the calendar and still ask myself where did the time go. I guess it flies when you’re having fun.

With everything in mind, time and all, I have been busy moving between continents. You all heard from me after a great month living out of my tent and travelling through Patagonia. That month was challenging but also amazing. So amazing that I still find myself talking about it, but I guess the story following Patagonia is missing. I moved onto Buenos Aires after Ushuaia.

Buenos Aires as a lot of people know is Argentina’s capital and I had planned to spend a bit of time there, relaxing and embracing the culture. I arrived all hot and bothered at 2am after a somewhat pleasant flight. I couldn’t have planned it any better, I wanted to experience the Argentinian flare at its best and BA was just that. I loved that city more than anything, it was so young but with the beauty of a mature city, so European, so Italian and so familiar. The reality of BA is that everyone in the city is related. That makes for a proud city full of proud people willing to go out of their own way for each other.

Buenos Aires had a lot going for it and I never found myself bored, especially when I could learn the Tango and walk between the city's streets doing nothing for hours. BA is the Paris of the south and it has some of South America’s best hangouts, but Tango like nothing else defines the city and defines the country. I made a friend who’s lived in the city for years and absolutely loves it. She taught me to Tango, which was great, and just about easy enough. I remember learning to Salsa back in Ecuador and that was great too, but you see Tango, it’s different and is WAY more fun, more sophisticated. It’s sort of a shame I haven’t practised much since then, but I bet I could still pull off a few moves.

Crossing the border back into "Land of Cheap" Arg-Bolv.

As great as Argentina was though, it was expensive. I ended up leaving earlier than expected by heading up through Bolivia with a friend of mine. I crossed into Peru to visit some friends, then back to Ecuador. The reason I moved so much was only because I had so much time, I was meant to spend a few weeks in BA meeting with charity workers, but that didn’t work out. That in turn gave me time, time to travel. I hit up all the usual spots back in the countries I was familiar with and I enjoyed meeting people I’d met before, and I also enjoyed speaking proper Spanish (Spanish in Chile and Argentina is different).

My hat being made!

Passing through Ecuador meant I had the chance to make some house calls, I went back to Cuenca where they made the hats and they actually showed me the whole process which was cool, and also convenient since I had to pick up a new sombrero since mine was stolen in Bolivia. Yeah, I loved that old hat, but the new one is great. So I did Ecuador, again, but still with time, the hard part was deciding what to do next, I had played with the idea of visiting Colombia several times but I was in a country I loved ohh so much, but then had the opportunity to explore another country. I pondered crossing the border north to Colombia.

Colombian breakfast.

“Beautiful women and Beautiful country”. I couldn’t ignore such an honest opinion and since I had time to be the explorer, I moved on through (I was also kind of persuaded by a cheap flight to Central America from Colombia). Another border and Colombia by night, I arrived and set myself down. Crossing over from Ecuador was easy, I was welcomed with open arms. Nothing could have prepared me for the sort of country Colombia was. I’m sure we’ve all heard stories and shied away from even the thought of visiting the country, “It just isn’t worth it”, but you know what? It is.

 Now to be honest, my time in Colombia wasn’t as trouble free as I make it sound, but whatever. The Colombians, to me where a great example on how to live life. After crossing another international border, I grabbed some grub and found my place for the night. The next morning I went on to Cali, the city of Salsa. Now this bus ride taught me something that has stuck with me ever since.


On this bus, people always smiled and always greeted each other but once it got going, we would continuously stop along the Pan-American as police would come on board. I was in Colombia and my Spanish was as good as it could be, all the local gossip was easy to understand and despite that the stops were unusual for me, not to mention frustrating since that first route was not advised at night. I ended up arriving at 2am, but I was safe. On top of that, I gained a lot of respect and patience, only because Colombians were so open. They had nothing to hide, the police would enter the bus and wish everyone a good afternoon and it was with immediate effect everyone, including myself, would reply with a smile. The police checks where usually swift and everyone went on with their day. To me, this repeated experience made the Colombians stand out.

Rainy days in Colombia.

I can only guess how annoyed I would have been at home from being stopped for nothing, but in Colombia it’s as if there are better things to stress about. I guess that can explain what I did, but can you blame me, I got stuck again. New people and rainy days.The rainy days were always the best.
A day came when I had to leave Colombia and get to Central America, I went on to Panama and Costa Rica and they were adventures on their own. The best thing I did was probably spend a day on a beach in Costa Rica before flying out and over to the US. A next to empty beach, in Central America a rarity and I loved that.

Pimped out!

One more thing though, I've come from riding some really funny buses over the past six months or so but nothing really matched the latest, and my last Latin experience on the "Diablo Rojos" of Panama City. The red devils are awesome, and are old US school buses but better, pimped out and blasting out music. What takes your fancy? Reggatone? Salsa? Dance? Just wait for the right bus. It’s kind of a let down though because I arrived in the US two weeks ago and have seen some school buses, but for some reason they don’t look as cool?


But yeah… It’s clear to me that Latin America as a region was different and the way of life seemed to form a pattern as I travelled through and around each country with each person I met. I love the Latin culture and how it always involves family. What will always stick with me is how Latin Americans, or at least those in South America work to live and to me that sets them apart from a lot of other cultures, capitalist countries, where people usually live to work. It all sounds fine and is just a mix of words but it really makes a huge difference. Latin Americans greet each other with a kiss on the cheek, or even a hug. They always have time for everyone around them.

That lesson is hard to forget and now I am in the US and missing Latin America, a region I fell in love with and that I always found myself someplace, stuck for longer than expected. My definition of stuck, though, is a sense of freedom, a freedom that let me explore cultures that I was comfortable in. I admit it, I was stuck in Latin America as a whole and in separate stages. I was stuck in Ecuador, I was stuck in Bolivia, I was stuck in Colombia. I was always stuck by choice.

Stuck? Yes, by choice.

The Life of a traveller

The last time I had to jump on a bus while moving was a while ago, maybe when I was last back home in Zimbabwe? That or on the older London buses. Either way, it was a while ago. Crazy as it sounds though, it’s different it kind of makes you feel like you’re on the edge! Na, I’m only messing, start with a joke right?

Living in a different country away from everyone you know means you have to be more confident, independent and decisive. As soon as the weekend came, I made a decision. Get out of the city. The last week has been manic, and I needed to go. I found out that some banks back home block your account even though you tell them you're moving abroad, I literally went three days on $5. Go back twenty years or even ten years, what would I have done?

Today there’s direct debit, credit cards, travellers cheques and all that, which is all great, but no way would that have worked out on my route. Nothing was going to ruin this for me, sure, three bank cards didn’t work, but I had planned for this! I made sure everything was done right, I made sure my mum was signed on my accounts, just in case. Just in case three of my cards didn’t work. Just in case I had no money to live on. Yeah, there’s more to the story, but who would’ve thought it. Always prepare for the worst, I guess I did.

Friday came, and like I said, I had decided to go.

High mountain roads, deep valleys in and around the Pan-American Highway and we weren't wasting time, last bus out of Quito and the destination Otavalo. Siting a few hours outside Quito but hosting one of the world’s most famous markets. Yes, world.

The bus ride to Otavalo really was something, when was the last time you saw a Datsun car on the road, or sat on a bus as the only non-locals? Me and Lou were loving it. The ride was meant to take two hours, but of course that turned into three and a half. That’s not a complaint though, it seems out here that there’s more time for anything, more time to enjoy life. Personally, I’d hoped the bus would break down somewhere along the trip. It did. Only for twenty minutes though, I was gutted. Anyway, we got to Otavalo, and we were the only one’s getting off. The conductor (which we had not seen before) came to get us, funny how he knew who the non-locals were!

Off the bus, 6.30pm, eyes rolled their way over to us. We felt them looking, “Don’t make eye contact!” It was only a joke, well- to me anyway, Lou didn’t quite think so. A dollar cab ride later, we got to the hostel, Spanish in check and ready to use. At the time, I could only manage small talk, but it was enough to keep a conversation flowing! Learning Spanish is challenging but so interesting, not to mention useful! A week of lessons, 4 hours STRAIGHT and I’m starting conversations, keeping them, telling jokes! Sure it’s a bit slow but from little to no Spanish to some decent Spanish in about a week, I’m proud!

Friday had been a long day so eventually we went to sleep.
Saturday morning, out the front door, and the market was there to greet us. Neither of us had expected something on such a scale. The streets were filled with sellers and market stalls, the people had surely been up a few hours before us and we were up and out at 8am. Something like this says a lot about the Otavalans, their organisation and everything. It wasn’t as if their streets weren’t used for anything important, Friday night had the streets full of cars and commuters, but for this one day, the streets had no cars whatsoever. The surprise is something my words can’t really describe, maybe a photograph?

We were heading for the animal market a few blocks up the road. I had my eye on a Llama or two, but there were so many other things there. From pigs, to horses, cows, chickens, sheep, ducks and a lot more. All for sale. I can see the point that some people would not agree with something like this, but personal beliefs can’t always go against the way of life of some people, and countries, this is how it works. It may be that the odd tourist spectator make it seem fake or staged or whatever, but despite the tourist attention, the people here still get on with their business, simply because trading in livestock is business. Business needed for money and a decent standard of living.

On the other hand though, some things I can question. Take for example how I was in the market and a kid was trying to reach into my bag, there was nothing in there, and I caught him, but that makes me question certain things. Why, is the biggest question and I suppose I don’t have an answer for that yet but I don’t know, I’m not angry at the kid, I don’t know.

It just happens that when you are travelling, you have to get used to certain things. You have to get used to being the only non-local. You have to get used to certain types of people. You have to get used to relying on yourself, relying on others. That in turn means trust. Trusting the people you share a cab with, trusting the people in your hostel. Without some sort of trust, travelling would become a difficult chore. With trust, there’s a way to make new friends and actually have fun.

I’ve met a few people in the last few weeks, made friends, but everyone has a place they need to be. Some in the jungle, others somewhere down south, and me in the middle. Either way though, it was ok, being out here alone makes it so easy to meet new people, travel buddies or whatever you want to call them. Although you go your separate ways after a few days, you somehow meet somewhere along the journey. The weekend in Otavalo was really random, I saw so many people I have met in different places, some from Universities, some from Quito but who were meant to be in the jungle. It’s crazy, unplanned, it’s the life of a traveller.

I’m having fun and learning a lot and seeing incredible things. Everything is to my advantage so far, and I guess that all goes down to all the preparation and the openness. Then again.. I enjoy living unprepared, under pressure, but I also love this. This being the bus I'm sitting on writing my blog, surrounded by Ecuadorians, driving home at sunset over some great landscapes, some great roads.

With the next 8 months or whatever, I’m going to have a great time and I guess that’s down to the pressure travelling brings and will bring. It challenges us, and that's the only way we learn.
 

Need I say more?