All the way south

"Duuude! You look like a hobo." Those were the welcoming words that greeted me when I emerged from arrivals at Mexico City's main airport, the words of my great friend Daniel, who himself was on a bit of a trip, returning to his native country for a few months to work on a personal project. I hadn't realised just how much my beard had grown, growing from hipster to homeless in the three months since I saw him last, and his reaction was probably justified. The trip started as it would mostly proceed and end, with lots of eating. We stopped off at a chain called Casa de Toño to sample some pozole rojo  (soup), with some flautas  and a little taco thrown in for good measure. It was a lot of food, but holy crap...flavor! Variety! Spice! Parts of my tongue were tingling, parts that hadn't tingled in months. Daniel had always hyped up the food in Mexico, and it made a spectacular start in living up to expectations. I was already looking forward to the next meal. W

In winter on the Antarctic peninsula, it gets so cold that even the sea freezes over. Frozen seawater makes getting around easier, and once upon a time it allowed three British scientists from the Faraday Antarctic research base to ski their way across the solid sea ice to spend some leisure time away from the base. Around about the time they reached Petermann Island, six miles away, a big storm kicked up and broke up the sea ice. They had radio contact from a hut on the island. At first, they provided updates every day. Then once a week. Then once a fortnight. Eventually, they cut contact altogether. With constant inclement weather and pack ice remaining on the water, it was a long period of time before their location could be reached. By the time it was, they were already presumed dead. When rescuers entered the hut, the one you see above, all they found were penguin feet nailed to the tables. Presumably they had gone mad from hunger and isolation. This was in 1982. Hearing this

Buenos Aires My 20 hours or so in Buenos Aires was no more than a glorified stopover, but I managed to pack in a lot in that time. Yet another sleepy late night landing, with dinner still to eat, meant I forked out for a direct taxi to my hostel, and upgraded to a private room when I got there. In a couple of days I was going to be sharing an Antarctic ship cabin with two other random guys, so some alone time beforehand justified the expense. My hostel was right in the middle of the San Telmo district, a bohemian area hopping with bars, plazas, and tango. After quickly checking in, I strolled out at 10pm, navigating the easy grid system of streets to the Argentinian asado (barbecue steak) place one of the hostel staff recommended. I failed in finding it, but I wasn't short for other options that late at night. I settled for a brewpub, and had a delicious brewed on premise IPA along with a burger. I had heard that Buenos Aires was quite similar to a modern European city,

Easter Island is not big. It's about the same size as Lichtenstein (168 sq km), with a population of just under 5000 people. Despite being a five hour flight out into the pacific, I was expecting a little plane with little or no amenities. I had my novel ready to go. I could barely believe it when our assigned gate was connected to a 787 Dreamliner, one of the best planes in the sky. Despite the amazing transport, this was still with dodgy LATAM airlines, who reinforced the skeptical opinion I hold of them when, after leaving the gate and making our way towards the runway, we had to go back because they "forgot three people". This added an hour plus to our journey time, so I managed to squeeze in three movies on my way across the pacific. The massive size of our airliner was a total mismatch to the tiny airport in Hanga Roa, the only town on the island. I had never left a plane this big by walking on the tarmac before. A sleepy late arrival to a sleepy town slap bang in

If I have a choice, I'm never again going to pick Canada as a country to transit through when flying long haul. I should have known, but didn't, that you need a visa even when just transiting through the airport. I had to frantically apply for one via my phone at the Heathrow airport gate, when I was boarding the plane to Toronto! Once I landed at Toronto to transit, I had a couple of hours for my connecting flight, but because of extreme cold conditions there was a big delay in docking at the gate. I was extremely late for my connecting flight, but I still had to go through full Canadian customs, including questions about why I was visiting Canada! Crazy stuff. Despite my rush, my connecting flight to Santiago was also delayed, so I made it. In the end, it took off three hours late. By the time I arrived in Santiago, I was done with long haul flying, and looking forward to exploring a new city and basking in the 30 degree heat. I found my hostel easily enough, and instantly