All the way south

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

Not too dissimilar to my last big trek in Colombia, I woke up in bed the morning after the post-trek celebrations with my head spinning and a serious thirst for water. I had once again wisely decided to treat myself to a fancy private room to recover. Besides the effect of the hangover, I was feeling a little down for other reasons - I just had a great four days on the Inca Trail, where I had good company and made some new friends, but now they were all gone. They were all on a short holiday break, and were heading back home this day or the next. I was on my own again. After finding somewhere to refuel with food, I wandered through Christmas-themed Cuzco in a melancholic hungover state, hitting up Starbucks on the main square for some caffeine and wifi to help decide where I would go next. It was the Christmas songs in Starbucks that got me. The cycle of making new friends and then saying goodbye and having to start all over again had become tiresome. I knew I wasn't enjoying sol

Day one The first big challenge of the Inca Trail trek was packing my duffel bag that the porters would carry. I had brought a way too much crap. We had received the duffel bags at the briefing the night before, and I thought I had packed it fairly lightly, but having to squeeze the provided sleeping bag in at the start of the trail was a big challenge. I normally travel light, but this time I had definitely over-packed. The poor porters. The packing challenge took place after a comfortable three-hour pre-dawn bus journey, where I managed to get some extra sleep in. Once everyone's duffels were sealed, and we got our rented hiking sticks, at last it was time to get going. After bouncing, full of beans, across the footbridge that marks the beginning of the trail, the first gentle little uphill section was...a little too breathless for comfort. We were above 3000m, and the lack of oxygen made you feel like you hadn't walked in about a year. This would take some getting use

A big delay in my flight to Peru gave me the unexpected opportunity to sample two completely unrelated things I had wanted to try - an Outback Steakhouse (an American chain with an Aussie theme that was randomly in Quito airport) and more Ecuadorian craft beers. The flight was delayed long enough for me to try a surprisingly delicious steak and the whole brewery range - pale ale, lager, porter and stout. The god of airports doesn't allow such fun to go unpunished however, so the compensation for my merriment was being forced to spend nine overnight hours in Jorge Chávez International in Lima. I'm not sure who decides the airport flight schedules, but I imagine whoever organizes the one for Lima is an insomniac who loves to inflict his sleepless suffering on others - so many flights there leave at ridiculous early morning hours. I landed in Lima at 9.30pm and was departing for Cuzco at 4.30am. I had to wait until 1am before I could check my bag in, so in the end I only got 1

There are a few different ways you can "do" the Galapagos, but from what I read the best way, where you make the best use of your precious/expensive time there, is to go on a multi-day boat cruise, where you sleep on the boat as it travels to the next destination overnight. So that's what I decided to do. When I was booking the tour in the Quito hostel-attached travel agency, a friendly Finn named Marko overheard that I needed to go to the airport at the same time as him the next day, so we agreed to share a taxi. As it turned out, we'd be sharing more than that - we were booked on the same tour boat, and sharing the same cabin. The complications that arose from making a last minute booking meant that Marko and I needed to fly there a day before our tour started, as the daily early flight on the day of the tour was booked out. This meant we had a night to chill out on Santa Cruz, the main Galapagos island, which has a well developed though touristy town named Puerto