All the way south

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, ...

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...

Being used to long haul flying, I barely noticed the short hop from Bogotá to Quito, the high-lying capital of Ecuador. An airport taxi pickup from my hostel gave me an easy introduction into this new country. Luckily there was a Danish hipster heading to the same hostel at the same time, so I was able to share the cost with him. View from Secret Garden rooftop With an ultra-modern airport highway, the taxi cruised along until hitting the higgledy-piggledy old colonial streets of the San Blas area of the centre, where The Secret Garden hostel was located. The hostel was recommended to me by a couple of Canadian girls I had shared a dorm with in Medellín, more so for the three day trip to the sister hostel near Cotopaxi mountain that was not to be missed. With the December 10th deadline for the Inca Trail in Peru looming, I only had just enough time to do this three day'er before hitting the Galapagos for four. That would be it for Ecuador. After grabbing a lovely lunch wi...

So far, the rule with Colombian buses had been to take the prescribed travel time and add an hour or two. Having been informed that the bus to Bogotá takes 7-9 hours, I feel into a deep VIP-seat slumber expecting to get at least a solid 8 hours of sleep. I was in the middle of a dream when Xavier poked me awake at 6am. I still wasn't fully awake, and still wasn't fully sure if we were actually in Bogotá just 7 hours later, when I said au revoir to him and clambered into a taxi. Finally, a daytime arrival at a new place. My first impressions on the near hour-long journey into the centre were...underwhelming. Lots of traffic, lots of buses, lots of flat sprawl - Bogotá wasn't impressing me so far. Having been hostel dorming it for a while now, I decided it was time for a break from backpacking. I had booked myself into a four star hotel for the next couple of nights, right in the historic central region, known as Le Candelaria. My extremely early arrival meant that my hot...

It was with a heavy heart that I ordered the Uber to begin my journey out of Medellín. It had been a great week, and there was still more for me to do here, but time waits for no man - I had an Inca Trail deadline of December 10th looming, with more of Colombia, Ecuador and the Galapagos to cram in before then. Medellín didn't let me leave so easily though. The 11am bus I aimed to take to my next destination, Salento in the coffee region, was full, so I spent a bonus two hours blogging at the southern bus station waiting for the 1pm. The longer than expected bus journey took 7.5 hours (it's not a good idea to be in a rush in Colombia), but the other travellers made it interesting - including a couple of Aussie blokes (one of whom gave off all the signs of a debilitating coke habit) and a solo French traveller, Xavier, from Nantes. After yet another nighttime arrival in a new place, us bunch of random travellers made our way through some deserted and incredibly peaceful villag...

Irish people like to think that we can spot other Irish when we're abroad just by looking at them (which is true, we can). I think after living two years in the Netherlands, I can now do the same for the Dutch. I've been using this skill a lot in Colombia, because there's a whole lotta Dutch here. I shared a taxi from the airport to the centre of Medellín with two meneers from Amsterdam and The Hague. Yet another night time approach to a new place, but this one was the best yet. Medellín is located both in a valley surrounded by hills, and on the sides of the hills themselves. The airport is outside this urban basin, and the area where I was staying (Poblado, where most of the hostels and nice restaurants/bars are) is located on a mountainside south of the centre. When I got to my hostel rooftop the view was incredible. I spent five minutes with a beer in hand just drinking it all in (along with Martin, my dorm roommate - Dutch of course). A really nice, modern hoste...

The highlight of the five hour bus and taxi journey from Santa Marta to Cartagena (besides the great test of my dexterity in the pinball toilet), was the sight of masses of local hombres all sprinting urgently to the site of an overturned truck on the other side of the highway. It wasn't to provide assistance to the driver, it was to take advantage of a situation we all dream about - it was a beer truck. Unfortunately the police had already arrived by the time the taxi I was sharing with three Germans went past, so we decided against joining the affray. Again it was nightfall arriving in a new place, except this approach was very different from Tayrona park. Cartagena is Columbia's top tourist destination, and the old city, where I was staying, is a World Heritage Site. The ramparts, surrounding the old city, and the various churches and monuments, are bathed in golden light after dark. I was already enthralled. After dropping the friendly Germans off at their hostel, I ...

Like Uluru and the Great Barrier Reef, in my six years living in Sydney I failed to make it to New Zealand, not even for a weekend ("I'll go next year, next year"). Seeing as it was on the way to South America, this was another "now or never" moment. So I squeezed three days in to the start of my three months. Three days in New Zealand, as it turns out, is a very tight squeeze. I flew into Queenstown. I had heard nice things about the area, but I was not prepared for the epic jaw-to-the-floor scenery encountered on approach and after landing. I had heard it was nice, but not this nice. This thought played around in my head over the next couple of days on the south island - some places are over hyped, and don't meet expectations when visited. But New Zealand, or at least the parts I saw in the south island, are under  hyped. Either I haven't been paying attention, or their tourist board needs to get their arse in gear - the South Island is mind-blowing...