Australia: New Year, airport mayhem and the Red Centre

After Christmas with relatives, my friend Claire has arrived in Australia for a 2 week jaunt around the highlights, starting with New Year's Eve in Sydney. Coincidentally, that's also her birthday. Here's what happened over that week.

We've been here 9 hours, you bastards

New Year's Eve/Claire's birthday began with a trip to Pancakes On the Rocks, a cafe in the Rocks that specialises in, you guessed it, pancakes. What better way to start a birthday than with pancakes? Although, it being before lunch time, we opted for the savoury variety instead.

Nicely full of carbs, we had a wander around the contemporary art museum. Just as odd as any other modern art museum.

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At this point, it was slipping past noon, I thought we should probably be trying to find somewhere to sit and wait for the fireworks. I'm not sure Claire understood just how busy it was going to get, so instead we tried to visit the Botanic Gardens, but they were shut because of the fireworks and the public viewing area there was already full.

Yeah, New Year's in Sydney? Madness. Instead we went back to Observatory Hill which was already getting busy but promised to be quieter than other areas because there was an alcohol ban and the capacity was lower.

And so we sat on the grass and waited.

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And waited.

And waited some more.

For nine hours. Well, not quite that long for the first batch of fireworks, after which a few people with little kids slotted off.

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But nine hours for the midnight fireworks. As it turns out, we had quite a good spot, being up on the hill. You could see up and down the harbour and the Harbour Bridge was near enough straight in front of us. But you can only do so much about the people around you and as the countdown hit midnight, a bunch of Germans pushed their way in front of us.

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And this is why most of my photos of the fireworks have huge heads in them. Ignorant bastards. I was tired. I'd been waiting on prickly grass for hours. I was not in the mood to be charitable and I'm still not. It doesn't hurt to be polite.

I think Claire enjoyed the fireworks though...

Where did the morning go?

The following day, I woke up around 9am. Said fuck it to getting up. Woke up again around 11am. Thought really hard about getting up...

In the end, we didn't leave the AirBnb until well after noon. We'd wanted to do Taronga Zoo and determined not to completely waste the day, we hopped on the ferry and arrived at the zoo about 2 hours before closing. I don't think we did too badly - we made a rough plan of what we wanted to see and then whizzed round. Look, a wild dragon.

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And a sleepy red panda.

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And a really dozy binturong.

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Oh, and I finally saw a platypus. Claire has better photos, but this will do for now.

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Yep, not bad for 2 hours. Normally I'd spend all day in a zoo though...

Since we'd slept so long, we didn't really feel like going back to Leichhardt and the AirBnB so early, so we had a wander through the Botanic Gardens in the rain.

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And then hopped on a bus to Bondi, just to see the beach. Also to see if they had any good fish and chips. Here is the glorious sunset over Bondi.

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I can't claim to have tried the fish and chips, because I had calamari, which was delicious. Claire seemed to enjoy hers though.

DO ALL THE THINGS

On our last day in Sydney, we had to be a bit more organised with our time. First stop, the Opera House for our tour. Fascinating, but it lasted longer than I expected. Look at this concert hall - the funny flying saucers are so that the orchestra hear themselves properly. Other than that, the acoustics are brilliant in there.

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I love this architecture.

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With the tour apparently overrunning and our planned train missed, we made a detour to the Queen Victoria Building to see the huge Christmas tree with its Swarowski crystals and all that.

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Finally, we got on the train to Katoomba. Yep, going back to the Blue Mountains. This time I bypassed Scenic World and took Claire straight to the Three Sisters.

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We also took the track down to Honeymoon Bridge, which joins the pillars to the cliff. There were rather a lot of steps...

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Which we then had to climb again on the way back. I must be getting fitter because they didn't seem too bad to me.  Either that or the cola I'd downed before we got on the train was giving me an enormous sugar rush...

Back on the train and home, where we arrived far later than we'd intended and ended up watching the new episode of Sherlock until we realised we had to get up early in the morning to get back to the airport. Sorry, Sherlock. It'll have to wait.

Well done, Qantas

At a time so early I haven't even written it in my journal, we set off for the airport. A bus and a train later and we arrived for check in. It should have been easy. Self-check-in. Done. Simples. Self-bag-drop? Not so much.

I should have known. Way back on the first day of this trip I'd had issues with EasyJet's fancy-ass self-bag-drop system and now in Sydney it was happening again on a much grander scale. This time the entire system broke down. And with all the check-in desks removed to make way for the automated system, there was very little space for the clerks to work the manual back up system. With our flight time fast approaching, we got stuck in a queue waiting while one very apologetic Qantas staff member tried to get everyone's bags scanned and sent through in time, fighting against a system that kept closing the flight because it should have left already.

Somehow, Claire ended up quite a long way behind me and I was told when I got through security that I had to get on the flight. So I sat on the plane, wondering whether she was actually going to make the flight, especially when the cabin crew asked if she was on the plane and didn't seem too bothered when I told them that she'd got delayed by the bag drop break down.

Claire ended up being the last person on the flight. Off we went to Alice Springs, quietly fuming over the mayhem. At least Qantas feed you on their flights - I was in desperate need of a calming cuppa.

On arrival at Alice Springs I collected my rucksack from the carousel and then stood and waited as all the other bags were claimed. A few other passengers were watching with the same sort of rising annoyance we were feeling. Clearly, Claire's bag hadn't made the flight. So we marched over to the service desk, where the poor clerk had no idea what had happened in Sydney and tried to reassure the growing gathering around her desk that their bags would be on the next flight.

The next flight would be the next day. We wouldn't even be in Alice the next day. Fucking hell, Qantas. Well done.

Because of the bag fiasco, we'd missed the shuttle into town and the next one wouldn't be coming in until the afternoon. We ended up sharing a taxi with an Italian couple who were in the same situation and fortunately, it turned out cheaper than the shuttle, otherwise I would've been writing angry emails to Qantas demanding some form of reimbursement for the additional cost...

With our stuff safely dumped at the hostel, we had to go on an emergency shopping trip so that Claire actually had clothes. Something else that'll need reimbursing. At least she could use my toiletries.

And then we spent the evening playing Exploding Kittens and getting attacked by mosquitoes.

Don't piss off a lady with a digging stick

Far too early in the morning we were awake again and climbing onto a nicely air-conditioned bus headed south. Some dozing later, we arrived at Erldunda, which is pretty much just a roadhouse. They do a good cooked breakfast though, which was excellent. They also have some emus, which we tried to feed.

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I say tried, because as soon as the emu pecked at the pellets in Claire's hand, the things flew everywhere and the emu just sort of stared in that stupid way they have.

From Erldunda we moved on another hour or more down the road to Mount Conner Lookout. Mount Conner is a tabletop mountain which is occasionally mistaken for Uluru by unfamiliar tourists. I can assure you, it looks nothing like Uluru.

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Ever onwards to Kata Tjuta, also known as the Olgas, an odd collection of rounded sandstone hills held sacred by the local Aboriginal groups. By this point, the temperature had hit uncomfortable levels, so I was amazed to spot some tadpoles in a puddle.

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A week or so before we arrived in the area, there had been enormous storms and torrential rain. I can only imagine that Kata Tjuta was absolutely dripping, so perhaps tadpoles aren't such a surprise. I wonder where the frogs live when it's dry?

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We took the short walk up the Valley of the Winds, trying hard not to melt and then climbed back on the bus. From Kata Tjuta, we drove back towards Uluru, where our first stop was the Cultural Centre. Fascinating little introduction to the Dreaming stories and songlines connected to Uluru and its importance for the Traditional Owners. I was also sad that there was no way I could afford any of the beautiful artwork in the craft shop.

And so onto Uluru itself. Our guide, Gerry, took us on a few walks, starting with the Mala Walk, which is tied in with the story of how the Mala people were invited to a ceremony by another tribe. Unfortunately, the Mala had already begun a ceremony of their own and once started, such things can't be stopped, so they declined. The other tribe were furious and ambushed them. The story is inextricably linked with a series of marks and gouges on the rock, which are said to represent, for example, the bodies of the fallen Mala men, the ceremonial pole they were erecting and the tracks left by the Mala women as they ran to warn the men.

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Aboriginal mythology never ceases to amaze me with how strongly it's tied into the land. It makes a hell of a lot more sense to me than most other oral traditions.

From there, we visited Mutitjulu waterhole, where the woma python woman, Kuniya, confronted the poisonous snake man, Liru, over the death of her nephew. In vengeance, she struck him with her digging stick as was her right, but then she hit him again and again until he died, which is at odds with traditional law. You can see the marks left in the rock from the force of the blows above the waterhole.

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The waterhole itself is a beautiful, quiet spot. Strange to think that not long before we visited the water was up above the platform because of all the rain.

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And then back to the carpark to have barbecue and wait for the sunset. Delicious kangaroo sausages. Not so delicious rahs who turned up just before sunset and spent all their time taking ridiculous Insta-ready photos. Claire and I had delightful fun snarking about them. By all means, come and enjoy the view, but these guys were dressed for a night out clubbing. I'm stereotyping like hell, but I got the impression none of them really appreciated how important Uluru is, they just wanted to take photos and say they'd been there.

Once the rahs got out of the way, I did manage to get some reasonable photos of the sunset. Claire had kindly brought my better camera back from the UK, but I don't think it made too much difference to how gorgeous Uluru looks in this light.

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And then back on the bus for the very long drive back to Alice Springs. Why on earth did we decide a one day trip was a good idea?

Is that flowing?

Since we didn't get back to Alice until gone 1am, we felt entirely justified in having a lie in. Once we'd grabbed some lunch, we had a mooch around town. Poked about in one of the many Aboriginal art galleries, but since we'd not left the hostel till quite late in the afternoon, we only got there just before closing. We made plans to return.

On the way back to the hostel, we stopped to take some photos of the river. The Todd River through Alice famously spends most of its time with no water in it. It had had pools when we arrived, but to our surprise, when we stopped this time it was actually flowing. In fact, it was filling - you could tell it must have rained further upriver and the water was slowly making its way down through the town. Pretty cool.

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Oh, and Claire's bag had arrived from the airport. At least you got that right, Qantas.

Snake in the hair

On our final day in Alice, we went on a mission to find some Aboriginal art that we could afford. This meant going in pretty much every gallery along the main strip before we finally found some small canvasses within our price range. And then spending forever in the gallery going through every single canvas in search of a favourite.

It was like trying to pick out a pounamu pendant in Rotorua all over again. I eventually pulled one out that I loved. Eventually. There were several others I'd quite happily have bought as well if I'd had the cash.

Art purchased, we mooched off to the Alice Springs Reptile Centre to while away the afternoon. That was great fun, especially the handling session. First up, the wriggly Gremlin, a bearded dragon.

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He didn't want to sit still with me. Apparently I wasn't tree like enough. Still, his friend Nora the Blue-Tongue was much more docile.

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And finally, Angel the Olive Python. Claire didn't want to hold her - something about ears. Her fear might have been well founded, since Angel first managed to get herself tangled through my plait and then stuck her tongue in my ear. Repeatedly.

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Riding a delightful endorphin high from getting to touch pretty animals, we headed back to the airport and hopped on our flight to Cairns. A fairly small plane - one of those funny ones with two seats on one side and three on the other, which led to the coining of the ridiculous insult "you're a lop-sided plane".

Cairns was wet. And hot. We slept.

Ooh, a neat place to finish for once. In the next installment of "weird-journal-blog-thing-what-Zoe-does-so-she-doesn't-forget-things" we're in Cairns for the Great Barrier Reef before heading off to Melbourne for... whatever it is people do in Melbourne.

There may be more penguins involved...

Australia: Am dram, gardens and hiking

I am the world's worst at keeping this thing up to date. Has it really been two months since my last push for updates? Damn.

 So, in the last post I'd overdosed on boat trips and tried my best not to squeal on having a penguin nearly run over my foot. The following week in Tasmania pushed my new-found ability to not plan ahead to the limit...

SQUAWK!

My last full day in lovely, quiet Strahan was wet. Same old, same old. In between the rain showers I first ran to the shop for groceries and then to Banjos because everything is better with pie.

Having wasted pretty much all day dossing about (why on earth didn't I sort the blog out then, past me?), I toddled on down to the tiny outdoor theatre on the waterfront to see Australia's longest running play, The Ship That Never Was. If you've read the last post, you'll know I visited Sarah Island, site of a notorious penal settlement. The play is based on events that took place around the time Sarah Island was being shut down and its convicts moved to the new site at Port Arthur.

So, I toddled in, wrapped myself in the complimentary blanket and hung on to the tiny hot water bottle the guys were handing out, it being a bit cool and damp, despite the cover over the seating.

And so the play began. A two man show, this time played by Chris, the guide from Sarah Island and the friendly chap I'd met in the post office a couple of days before. It soon became apparent that audience participation was very much expected and indeed essential. So I ended up being the parrot.

Yeah...

That was OK while it was just a hand puppet and all I had to do was squawk at appropriate moments (and I definitely didn't sound at all like a chicken... or a crow...) but towards the end of the play I had to don this.

And "fly" out of the theatre to look for land... Which would have been fine if there hadn't been a horde of smartly dressed people walking past at that moment to a function on one of the boats. Oh dear.

That said, it was bloody good fun and educational to boot. The set was pretty awesome as well.

With my culture fix achieved, I toddled back to the hostel and tried to sort out what I was doing next. I only had one more night left in Strahan and I had no real plan. I had thought I'd go down to the Huon Valley, south of Hobart, since it's an area I've never visited. Unfortunately, I couldn't find anywhere to stay that was in my price range.

Hmm... what to do, what to do? And then the internet threw the most enormous hissy fit, refused to connect to anything and basically screwed me over. It took me nearly an hour to get it to behave long enough to get a night booked in Hobart for the following evening.

All right, I figured. I'll go to Hobart, stay the night and work out what I'm doing afterwards.

What happened to me being the queen of planning?

ECHIDNA!

After a morning spent dossing at the hostel (during which the internet continued to play silly buggers), I hopped back on the bus, once again driven by friendly Terence. We wound our way back to Queenstown, picked up an entire 2 people and motored onwards to Lake St Clair, in the heart of the island.

And on the way I saw more echidna. One of which was ambling across the road in that way only echidna have, oblivious to the minibus speeding towards it. Terence stopped in time, fortunately, just as I start with the "run, little echidna, run!" I think that brings my echidna total to six. Not bad for 2 weeks.

Arriving at Lake St Clair, we had a short break during which I wandered down to the lake edge and grabbed a few photos just to prove I'd been there.

Then I bid farewell to Terence and the tiny bus and hopped on a coach to take me back to Hobart.

Back in Hobart, I checked the bus timetables I had for the east coast and found that I could get up to the Freycinet Peninsula. On Wednesday. So I booked a couple more nights in Hobart and settled down, satisfied that I had at least tried to be spontaneous...

Worldbuilding is the best bit

With two days now to kill in Hobart, I decided to revisit the beautiful Botanic Gardens. Hobart's gardens are some of the oldest in Australia and the collection is amazing. First though, I got talking to one of the volunteers and it turned out that he also writes fantasy and we had a gloriously geeky chat about worldbuilding. As you do.

The gardens, as expected, did turn out to be pretty good for writing inspiration, but they're also fascinating from a scientific perspective. There's this gorgeous fernery, which I want but would never be able to look after.

Some gorgeous flowers, none of which I can remember the names of, although I think my macro photography is improving.

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The gardens are also home to the only collection of Sub-antarctic plants in the world (as far as I can see...). Most awesome. These guys cling on in places like Macquarie Island where they're battered by wind and rain, salt and freezing temperatures. Tough little buggers.

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Having got my fill of botany, I wandered back into the city via the site of the Beaumaris Zoo, home to the last captive (and possibly last altogether) thylacine, Tasmania's marsupial wolf. It says something about old zoos when you consider that in this small area there were leopards and polar bears as well as a whole host of other critters. That's a lot of animals crammed into not much space.

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And then I got attacked by the wind which stole my hat. That was great fun, chasing my hat down the road while also trying to keep my otherwise lovely sun dress from flashing my knickers at people...

What's with the British telly?

I spent my last day in Hobart reading. And booking my airport shuttle for next week. And reading some more. And finally being most bemused that Nigella Lawson was on the telly. It seems like, aside from the news, the only programmes that ever seem to be on are from the UK. Oh, or those reality things about traffic cops and border security...

Disconnect

Wednesday started early because I had to lug all of my bags down to the bus stop. It also started early because I realised late on Tuesday night that I hadn't actually booked my connecting bus. So at 7 in the morning I'm frantically sending emails to the local bus company and hoping that, even if I can't reply, they'll get the message and come and get me.

As a result, I spent the entire 2 hour plus trip from Hobart up to the Coles Bay turn off freaking out that I'd be stranded there with no way to get to Coles Bay itself. I started taking note of where houses were in case I had to walk somewhere to get help. Yeah, that was just... glorious fun.

As it turned out, I needn't have worried, because the minibus was waiting for me at the turn off and all was fine. Since it's a local service that also deals with freight, we had to stop to make a few deliveries on the way, which was a novel experience and reminded me of that time I had to take the "post bus" when I went camping in the Yorkshire Dales with friends from school.

Safely in the tiny town of Coles Bay, I checked in and wandered down to the bakery for a much needed cuppa. And a Lamington, because I'm told they're a very Australian thing and also, CAKE.

After that delicious snack, I wandered into the town centre, which was exceptionally windy.

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And also very small. Seriously, Coles Bay is lovely, but it's a village more than a town. It has, as far as I could tell, exactly one shop, plus a cafe. Sweet though.

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In the evening, I even managed to be a bit social. This might be because there was no WiFi, or I might just be beginning to enjoy talking to random strangers.

Well, that was a stupid thing to do...

On the Thursday morning, having purposefully dumped myself in a place where there was nothing to do but walk, I went walking. First stop, the Visitor Centre to grab a Parks Pass and a Eucaflip. I might see if I can get the Eucaflip framed when I get back to the UK. It's an ID guide for Tasmanian eucalypts, but I like it even more because it was co-created by one of my lecturers from UTas.

Anyways, after confusing the parks lady with the revelation that I wasn't driving into the park and therefore needed the cheaper pass, I toddled off along the beach and then the road to Honeymoon Bay.

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Yes, I am aware that I only visited Honeymoon Bay a week or so ago, but it's such a gorgeous spot and I wanted a nice easy walk to start off with. I scrambled about on the rocks for a while, embracing my inner child and then settled down to enjoy the view.

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A couple of hours of doodling and writing later, I tramped back to the Visitor Centre to use the free WiFi, at which point I realised that my legs were looking a bit pink and promptly remembered that I hadn't reapplied my sunscreen. Ah.

This would explain why my legs were so very ouchy when I got in the shower at the hostel. Jeez. I don't think I've ever sunburnt my legs before and I don't intend to do it again. OUCH.

I made up for this stupidity by being super social in the evening and going to the pub with a couple of folks from the hostel. Their cider selection was all right, but I've had better. Still, at least Australia has cider.

Wallaby near miss

The following morning my legs were still very ouchy, so I did the sensible thing and put my actual walking trousers on to keep them out of the sun. Sensible because I intended to tackle Wineglass Bay and the thought of more sunburnt was not nice.

Sophie who came to the pub very kindly dropped me off at the Wineglass Bay carpark and so I set off. First, back off up to the lookout. My legs can't have been that bad, because I managed it in about 30 mins and so was off to a good start.

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Step two, down the other side of the pass to the bay itself. Knowing what Tassie's woodlands are like, I coated myself in DEET to keep off the winged demons and set off down the steep track. Not far from the bottom I nearly came acropper, stumbling over a rock and scuffing my palms. More ouch to add to the list.

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The trek down wasn't too hard. My occasionally dodgy knee even managed not to crunch. Down at the bottom, I got comfortable on the beach and had brunch - delicious sweet potato with sweet chili sauce. Yum. It also gave me chance to clean my scuffed palm which led to more ouch when I, unthinkingly, used hand sanitised to get the bits of sweet potato off my fingers. Fuck, that hurt.

With stingy hand to add to the ouch list, I headed back to the main track. I had intended to just head back over the pass and so back to the hostel. But I was feeling sort of energetic and when the sign informed me that the Hazards Circuit would only take me up to 5 hours and was only 11km long, I figured what the hell? Let's give it a go. I had plenty of water, my lunch was still in my bag and I was slathered in sunscreen.

So I toddled off across the narrow isthmus that connects the two parts of the Freycinet Peninsula, emerging half an hour later on Hazards Beach. Tramped down there and spotted a wallaby.

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Well, I say spotted. The thing nearly jumped on my head. See the ledge it's sitting on? A bit further back along the beach, that's about head height to me. So when it leaped out of the bushes, I could have sworn it was going to land on me. As it was, I think the wallaby was just as surprised as me. Luckily for me, it decided to sit quietly on the ledge long enough for me to get some fairly decent photos.

Anyways, wallaby incident done with, I set off again around the circuit, occasionally giving myself minor heart attacks by convincing myself there was a snake on the path. Seriously, some of those tree roots were remarkably snake-like until I got nearly on top of them. Ugh.

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The Hazards Circuit isn't quite as busy as the Wineglass Bay track, so I had the place nearly to myself for the most part, which was amazing. It's one of the things I love about Tassie - that sense that you're the only one there.

Such illusion was vanquished when I arrived back in the carpark and started trekking back along the road towards Coles Bay. I was still feeling remarkably energetic, so the several kilometre hike to the hostel didn't seem like a problem.

Still, when an Aussie couple pulled up next to me and offered me a lift, I didn't say no.

Apparently I'm either getting stupid or more confident, because I never would have got in a random car before. They kindly dropped me off at the Visitor Centre where I once again made use of the WiFi and also acquired a new spork since my old one is missing most of its tines - not great when you're trying to skewer sweet potato out of your lunch box.

Since I'd been really healthy and done my nice long walk, I splashed out on a bottle of cider from the tiny shop. Om nom nom. Willie Smith's is better than the 5 Seeds I had in the pub the night before. Good stuff.

Well, my time in gorgeous Tasmania is coming to an end. Two more days on the Freycinet Peninsula and then back to Hobart to catch my flight back to Sydney and Christmas with relatives. That's going to be good, right? I'm going to miss Tassie though.

Still, food and accommodation over Christmas...

Chile: Stars, empanadas and on to Australia

Woo, yet another ridiculously delayed blog incoming! Where were we?

Ah, yes. The last few days in Chile.

Sunsets or stars...

I had a glorious lazy Saturday in San Pedro, during which I wrote, ate another delicious empanada and basically did bugger all. Again. I had intended to make up for this by going on my rescheduled stargazing trip. However, this is the view which greeted me as I set off into town.

Gorgeous sunset, right? Unfortunately, the clouds so beautifully lit up by the sunset also caused my stargazing to be cancelled. Again. Buggeration.

Christmas organised-ness

On the Sunday I first tried to get the blog up to date. You can see how successful that was by the fact that I'm only just writing this now...

And then I booked another tour. Woo.

Then I decided to be super-organised and do some Christmas shopping. San Pedro had a nice little craft market - mostly full of tourist tat, but with a few nice bits - so I went and had a poke around in there. I came away with a couple of really nice alpaca wool scarves, locally made. I will admit I was very tempted to keep them both for myself, but since I'm nice (and I already had my Taquile knitwear from Peru) I can confirm that they did actually make it to the people they were bought for.

And then I ate another empanada. I can't help it - the empanadas in San Pedro were pretty good.

At this point, my notes just say "THINGS" and I have no idea what those things were. I suspect I didn't have any idea what they were when I wrote that note either...

Quinoa & Quince

On my final full day in San Pedro I took a tour around a couple of historic sites. First stop, the fortress of Pukara, built by the Atacemenos and used against the Spanish. Until the Spanish snuck in through the stream bed and killed most of them.

It's very similar in style to the fortified sites in Peru, which isn't all that surprising given that Inca culture stretched into northern Chile.

From there, we popped down to Aldea de Tulor, which is an old village site. There's a reconstruction of some of the buildings - the roofs are held together with llama sinew. Waste not...

Funny little place - you can see the outlines of the old buildings and it looks like they 

were packed right in tight. Apparently the area was an important meeting place between fairly far flung groups and may have been a centre for trade.

Final stop of the tour, a local farm, where a llama tried to spit at me.

And we got to try some local food. This included quinoa with chanar jam (and another jam that I didn't catch the name of), quince juice and some funny little scone-like cakes. Which I stuffed my face with because I'm on a budget and if there's food included, I'm going to make the most of it.

Suffering from a slight sugar high, I had a short mooch around San Pedro before treating myself to a late lunch/early tea. Again, I gobbled down a delicious quince & quinoa dumpling starter.

Seriously, those things are amazing. Followed up with delicious quesadilla. Om nom nom.

With stargazing once again cancelled (gah), I instead spent the evening trying to get the blog up to date. And once again, this turned into an epic fail. And to think I'd been doing so well with this thing...

Santiago, again

On the Tuesday morning I said goodbye to the stray dogs I'd been making friends with and hopped on my transfer back to Calama. Scoffed down an enormous plate of chips (yum) and crept onto the plane hoping I wasn't going to have the same strange anxiety that I had on the flight into Calama the week before.

As it was, the flight was fine. Getting a shuttle from the airport to the hotel on the other hand... not so much. First I went to the desk. He told me to go to the next woman down. She looked confused. So the guy told me to go to the gate. The guy at the gate told me I needed a ticket - I'd assumed he would do that bit. So he took me to another desk, where the woman issued me a ticket but didn't charge me.

At this point, I was super confused, but assumed that I'd just pay the driver.

The driver dropped me at the hotel and took off without another word.

Confusion.

Somehow I'd got there without paying. No one ever asked me for payment. There was a price on the ticket, but no one tried to collect it. How the hell?

Anyway, shouldn't complain, especially since I was back at the cheap but pleasant hotel I'd stayed at the previous week and had a whole room to myself. More than enough space to unpack both of my bags, get rid of the junk and repack everything in a more sensible fashion.

Somehow I've managed not to pick up loads of crap over the last few months. Well done, me. A bout of handwashing later and I didn't even have any smelly clothes to worry about. As a result, I got to spend the evening watching telly and writing all the words. Given that the next day I was heading off on a ridiculously long leg to Australia, I figure I needed it.

Expect a snarky email

After a morning spent watching Looney Tunes in Spanish (hilarity), I headed once again for Santiago Airport and the first of three flights that would take me to Australia. After check in with Air Canada, I flew through outbound immigration, acquiring another stamp in the process and spent an hour mooching through duty free, bemoaning the fact that pisco doesn't come in small bottles that would easily fit in my bag. Damn.

Service on the Air Canada flight was so stereotypically Canadian, it was adorable. Super friendly. Also, The Secret of Kells was on the inflight entertainment, which made me very happy - it's a beautiful film.

On arrival at Ezeiza Airport, Buenos Aires, the grumpy looking transit security man took my thumb print and waved me back through to Departures. I was most put out - they took my thumb print and I didn't even get a stamp in return. Grr.

So followed my 8 hour stopover in Argentina, during which I couldn't leave the airport. So I wrote. I ate chips and another empanada. Then I wrote some more.

And at 11:30pm, I joined the queue to board my flight. I'd got all the way to the chap checking boarding passes. He looked at mine, looked at me, smiled.

"You need a new boarding pass."

WHAT THE FUCK. I've been sitting in the fucking airport for 8 hours. No one told me at check in that I'd need another boarding pass. The Air Canada lady had printed out all three of my passes - Chile-Argentina, Argentina-New Zealand, New Zealand-Australia. But apparently, because they were on Air Canada passes, I wasn't allowed on the plane until I had the right Air New Zealand ones, even though the information was exactly the same.

What sort of stupid shit is this?

Anyway, I was too tired to argue. In fact, I was pretty close to crying as I trudged all the way down to the other end of the terminal to get my replacement passes. The guy at the desk, to his credit, sorted it out pretty quick, but then decided to tell me that I would need to hurry because they were calling my flight. I think I snapped at him that I'd already been there and they'd told me to come to him.

Bad mood rapidly increasing.

So I hurried back down the terminal, ignoring the looks from the gate staff that screamed "you took your time" and toddled onto the plane. Sat down. Tried not to cry. Cried anyway. I blame the tiredness. Started mentally composing a snarky email to vent the frusstration.

Unfortunately, I've never mastered the art of sleeping on planes and the fact that Air New Zealand decided to serve dinner at midnight did not help. I snatched a few minutes sleep and then resigned myself to watching films for the rest of the flight. I got my fix of Middle-earth, so it can't have been all bad.

Shortly before landing in Auckland at 5am New Zealand time and therefore stupid-o'clock by my Chilean set body clock, I had breakfast. When I got off the plane, my brain was so confused (and so tired) that I had second breakfast before I got on my next flight.

I blame the fact that I'd been watching The Hobbit.

Then I got third breakfast on my short flight from Auckland to Sydney. And watched the third Hobbit film. Mood somewhat improving, despite the jetlag.

On arrival in Sydney the automated border control system rejected me because I'd been in Peru. As a result, I had to go to the desk and got a nice Australian entry stamp in my passport which I wouldn't have got at the automated gates. Win.

Unfortunately, I'd also declared medicines and possibly soil-contaminated items on my form, so then I had to go and talk to Customs, who, though very friendly, insisted on going through my entire bag. Never mind that I'd already pulled out the offending anti-malarials and the soil-contaminated walking boots were on my feet...

Finally I made it into the main concourse, where my stomach demanded a fourth breakfast. Two hours later, with my brain feeling mushier by the minute, I opted to take a taxi to my hostel.

Bad move. Sixty dollars. Ugh. Ah well. At least I could then spend the rest of the day passed out in the hostel. Jetlag really got me this time.

Well, here I am. Three months in Australia, starting with three weeks in Tasmania, the state I consider to be my second home and one of my favourite places in the world. One more day in Sydney and then it's off to the land under down under.

Maybe I'll see some echidna this time...

Chile: Lazy Days in Santiago

OK, so I've been utterly useless at keeping the blog up to date over the last few weeks. I have a few hours free before I go exploring later, so let's see if I can get it back up to speed, shall we?

I believe I left off with my arrival in Santiago from Peru. OK.

Where did the day go?

After my panicking about missing flights and/or having to run through the airport at Lima, I arrived safely in Santiago, capital of Chile, at a ridiculous time on Saturday morning. Passport stamped, I managed to get a shuttle into the city after another moment of panic when my card wouldn't work - note to self: it helps if I remember to tell my bank where I am.

To my sleepy delight, my bed was available when I checked in to the hostel just before 8am. I crawled under the sheets, figuring I'd snooze for a few hours and then in search of food and things to do.

When I finally woke up, having slept through a whole series of alarms, it was nearly 4pm. Oops. It is a very long time since I've slept a whole day away like that. And I was still knackered. Fortunately for me, it was pasta night at the hostel, so I spent the rest of the evening mooching and chatting with the other folks. I should maybe not have drunk the two glasses of red wine with my pasta, but hey, I was already sleepy so it didn't make that much difference.

Donde esta el museo?

A delightful roommate woke me up at 4am, complete with slamming the door and turning the lights on. Ugh.

On the plus side, Hostal Providencia provides an excellent breakfast, so I stuffed my face with fresh bread and that delicious cereal that turns the milk chocolatey that I haven't had since I was little.

Happily full, I scanned the web for things to see in Santiago and settled on the regional museum. Off I tramped, getting a little bit lost along the way, before ending up in the Plaza de Armas. Right. So where's the museum? Should be facing the Plaza. Can't find it. There's a sign for it, but the gate is shut and locked. How odd.

At the time, I thought maybe I was looking in the wrong place. Afterwards, I discovered there was an enormous strike going on in Chile and I'd clearly just timed it wrong.

Foiled by the closed museum and with no idea what else to go and prod, I returned to the hostel in the hopes of booking a bus to Chiloe for the following week. All went well - I managed to navigate the site in Spanish, select my bus, my seat got as far as the payment page...

Declined. What? At this point, I still hadn't realised I'd forgotten to tell my bank I was in Chile. So I tried my other card. Also declined.

Buggeration. Fine, I thought, I'll just try again tomorrow. I sat down to plan some writing instead, what with NaNoWriMo fast approaching. I can't remember what I wrote, but the note in my journal just says "writing fail". Oops. This is followed by the comment "FAIL DAY :)"

Clearly I was in an odd mood.

Spanish success!

On the Monday morning, I had planned to go on a free walking tour. I slept in instead. It was glorious. Plus, I still woke up in time to partake of the lovely breakfast. Nom.

Having missed the walking tour and with only a couple of days until I needed to get to Chiloe, I decided to take a stroll to the bus terminal in the hope of booking my ticket in person. Armed with Google Translate (just in case), I approached the desk, staffed by two friendly looking ladies.

Me: el autobus para Ancud?
Ticket ladies: *confused*
Me: *realises the C in Ancud is hard - Ankud not Ansud* er... Ancud?
Ticket ladies: *no longer confused, polite nodding*
Me: um... Jueves?

OK, so my Spanish is broken, poorly pronounced (on occasion) and I mostly make do with using the few words I know in new ways. But in this case, it worked. Success! I had a ticket to Ancud and I hadn't used a word of English. Well done, me.

Ticket booked, I figured I might as well have another wander around the city centre in the hopes of finding something to do. Yeah, that didn't happen. I ended up in Starbucks, where I once again had to spell my name for the guy at the counter because Spanish speakers really struggle with Zoe. It's just a name that doesn't work very well with Spanish pronunciation rules.

Back at the hostel, I apparently wrote a lot, going by the journal note that reads "WRITE ALL THE THINGS :)". So far, my time in Santiago was shaping up to be very chilled out and amazingly, the travel bit of my brain wasn't guilt tripping me about not doing much. Maybe I was still recovering from the bug that had screwed up my time in Arequipa...

Oh god, they're everywhere

The following morning, I once again had such a leisurely breakfast that I missed the walking tour. Ah well, I'd found other things to do, beginning with a beautiful stroll in the sunshine through Parque Forestal.

This led me straight up to El Museo del Bellas Artes, which is a great place. Some really interesting pieces, although I will admit that I laughed at the expression on this San Sebastian.

The only drawback was the fact that the museum was crawling with school groups who seemed to appear out of nowehere every time I found a quiet spot. Even the main hall, host to this odd disembodied ship, was not safe.

Having spent a good couple of hours perusing the collections, I made myself comfy on a bench outside in the sun, away from the annoying children and tried to find my inner artist. This largely consisted of drawing different houses for all of the cultures that I've been working on for the upcoming NaNoWriMo. I think I should stick to writing - drawing has never been my forte. Still, it was lovely to sit in the sun for a while.

The NaNoWriMo theme continued when I got back to the hostel, resulting in lots of rambling about plot and character creation. My planning sessions have a habit of getting a bit too in depth. For example, I'm not entirely sure why I really need to know what sort of boats are used across the different regions of my fictional world. But I worked it out anyway...

Free museum? What is this madness?

Still too fond of my bed and the delicious breakfast to get up early enough for the walking tour, I took myself to the Centro Cultural La Moneda on Wednesday morning. There I found an excellent exhibition of artefacts from China's Forbidden City and, because I arrived before midday, it was free!

I've missed free museums. There were some really beautiful pieces in the exhibition, my favourites including this tiny teapot.

And this badly photographed sword, mostly for the fact that it had a jade grip, which isn't something I've seen on swords before.

Taking photos of all the military objects definitely wasn't anything to do with inspiration for writing...

The centre is also home to a shop (and accompanying exhibition) of artesan crafts from the Aymara and Mapuche peoples of Chile. Oddly, I don't think I have any photos from in there, but the range of colours you can get on alpacas is pretty amazing and that's even before the wool is dyed.

My notes for the day then say "probably more NaNoing." I promise, NaNoWriMo isn't taking over my life in any way, shape or form. Definitely not...

I get breakfast?!

My final day in Santiago was something of a write off. I did nothing all morning, strolled to the city centre around lunch time, did a bit of Christmas shopping (woo, organised) and then returned to the hostel to write away the afternoon.

At 7:30pm, I arrived back at the bus terminal, far too early for my bus and proceeded to watch every single bus for Ancud like a hawk, just in case it was mine. When it finally turned up, I was surprised to find it so roomy. I'd booked the cheapest option - just a standard coach. But it had legroom. Decent legroom. And curtains. And a conductor who came around first to ask if I wanted breakfast in the morning and later to give me a blanket and pillow.

Breakfast? Oh my. So I actually slept well, not the broken sleep I've previously experienced on overnight buses.

Where did the sun go?

The following morning, the conductor duly appeared with my breakfast - a ham sandwich and a glass of coffee. I don't like coffee, but like a genius I'd forgotten to fill my water bottle before I left Santiago. With no other options for hydration, I drank it. Through a straw, for some reason...

And found that, actually, it wasn't too bad. It was relatively sweet, which might have had something to do with it.

After a short stop in Puerto Montt, the bus trundled onwards to Chiloe, Chile's largest island. A quick hop on the RO-RO ferry and then on to the town of Ancud in the island's north west. The weather, which had been great in Santiago and, indeed, at Puerto Montt, took a turn for the wet.

Admittedly, when I finally got off the nice comfy bus in Ancud, the rain had stopped, but it was overcast and just a little bit nippy. I spent the rest of the morning sheltering in the hostel before wenturing out in search of groceries.

I also found that the hostel has an awesome room with beautiful views over the bay.

It immediately became my writing room. It was warm, quiet and had good views. What wasn't there to love? Of course, that meant I spent the entire afternoon doing planning for NaNoWriMo yet again. Oops. In my defence, it got a bit yucky in Ancud again later on...


All right, so my first week in Chile was much like my last week in Peru - very laid back and not hugely exciting. But I did see and do things. I'm not sure the same will be said for next week - NaNoWriMo has a habit of taking over my brain.

And will the weather improve on Chiloe?

Peru: Mummies, cooking and monasteries

Oh my, what's this? A post going up on time? Shock horror. For this you can probably blame the fact that I've spent a large part of the last week feeling ill, so I've had plenty of time lounging in the hostel to get all the posts back up to date.

Anyway, aside from the illness, here's how the last week has panned out.

Look - camels!

It's a good job I'd had an early night, because my bus from Puno to Arequipa turned up at 5:45am on Saturday morning. Fortunately, my paranoia about being on time for things meant I'd been awake since 5am and had time to down a couple of cups of tea before I had to leave.

As the first to be picked up, I then spent an hour sitting on the bus waiting for other people before we even left Puno. My mood was not great.

We had a very brief stop at Lagunillas. Well, the sign said it was Lagunillas...

That lake at the back is Lagunillas, I think. Supposedly it's good for birdwatching, but since we only stopped for 5 minutes and we were a pretty long way from the lake, I can't be sure. We did see some flamingoes at a smaller lake just down the road, but since the bus didn't stop there my photos are... pathetic, shall we say?

From Lagunillas we passed through some very cool landscapes and quite a few vicunas. More on these in a moment. Still, the bus didn't stop again until we made it to the turn off for Chivay. Here, we stopped for a snack and I must say that the sandwich was huge and delicious and the coca tea much appreciated.

Half the group then piled into a minibus going to Chivay while the few of us going on to Arequipa transferred to another bus. A Spanish family, two American girls and me. Hmm. Although we weren't scheduled to have any more stops, the driver pulled over five minutes down the road so we could take photos.

The volcano to the left is Misti, with another volcanic group to the right. On the flats in front of this is a group of animals. See them? Yeah? Little bit out of focus. The American girls next to me, on seeing said animals both went "oh, wow, camels!"

There are no camels in South America. These guys are vicunas and though they are part of the camel family along with llama, alpaca and guanaco, they are very much not camels. I pointed this out to the Yanks. They look nothing like camels. Even at that distance, I'm not sure how they came to that conclusion...

Anyhoos, vicunas photographed, we set off again for Arequipa, Peru's second largest city. It is by far the most western place I've seen in Peru and after trying to visit local businesses everywhere else, I ended up in Starbucks soon after I arrived. Mostly because I needed a large quantity of tea and the selection at the hostel was somewhat limited.

I may also have had a very nice chocolate muffin. Om nom nom.

And then I slept. A lot.

Do I really have to do something?

Sleep was rudely interrupted by the fact that I am staying in the hottest room ever and the sun decided to turn it into an oven at 7am. I figured I'd have a nice relaxed morning and then go into the city to explore.

It didn't happen. I read. I attempted to get the blog updated (and failed...). I wrote some stuff.

The afternoon came around and I really couldn't be bothered to move. Eventually I forced myself to go to the supermarket solely because otherwise it was dry pasta for tea and then came straight back and made another go at the blog. And failed again because the internet connection was shocking.

I did take some photos of the Plaza de Armas though. The big building is the cathedral and the mountain sticking up on the right is Misti, the volcano.

After four hours of arguing with the WiFi connection, I finally gave up on getting the blog up to date and settled for reading instead. Wasted day? Maybe.

Urgh. Lurgies.

Any thought of making up for the wasted day was somewhat scuppered by the fact that I woke up the next morning feeling absolutely atrocious and spent the morning feeling sorry for myself. I have no idea what triggered it, but it was highly unpleasant.

I did, however, manage to drag myself to the Museo Santuarios Andinos in the afternoon. This is run by one of the universities and is home to the mummy known as Juanita or the ice Maiden, found near the top of Ampata volcano. She is remarkably well preserved for a natural mummy and the museum also houses a whole array of artefacts found with her and the other mummies found on Ampata.

Unfortunately, Peru's weird aversion to photography in museums struck again and so there are no photos of these awesome things. Guh.

Museum fix appeased, I hauled myself back to the hostel, curled up and somehow managed to focus long enough to get one of the outstanding blog posts sorted. Well done, lurgified brain.

Lurgies persisted though and an early night was in order.

Schedule change

A good night's sleep seemed to do the trick and I woke up on Tuesday feeling much better. I was still feeling lazy though and decided I'd take it easy to make sure the lurgies were properly gone.

As a result, I spent the morning booking things for the fast approaching Chilean leg of my trip. Hostel in Santiago? Check. Hostel in San Pedro de Atacama? Nope. Apparently San Pedro books up further in advance than pretty much anywhere else I've been and as a result, I've had to shift my plans slightly. Instead of going from Santiago to the north and then working south, I'm going from Santiago to Chiloe to Puerto Montt (or at least that area) to Punta Arenas and then planning to fly back up to San Pedro towards the end of my stay.

Woo.

I also managed to do some more blog updating. More woo.

And then I cooked potatoes for tea and one of them exploded in the pan... This was how thrilling this day got.

I am the god of hellfire...

Determined to make up for all this non-exploring in Arequipa, I'd booked a cooking experience the previous evening. First stop, a trip to San Carmilo market to see the huge range of fruits, veggies and meats on offer. I took far too many photos. Look, chickens with the heads still on.

Also, so much fruit. We got to try some of it, including a very tiny melon, passionfruit, sweet lemons and tiny orange berries that look like what I know as Chinese gooseberries. Very yummy.

Might have to be going back there... Anyway, with our trip to the market finished, we trooped into the open kitchen to start on the cooking lesson. For this session we were preparing causa and lomo saltado. First up, the causa, which is a layered "pie" made with mashed, spiced potatoes, a veg and chicken mayonnaise mix and avocado. Here is the group, hard at work.

And here is my finished creation, which I was pretty proud of, although I think my presentation needs a bit of work... not quite Masterchef standard.

Yes, it is decorated with ketchup and mayonnaise and yes, it was delicious. Next up, the main course - lomo saltado. Diced beef, onions, garlic, chili, tomatoes, fries... I've never had to peel a tomato that hasn't been in boiling water before. I don't plan on doing it again - faffy stuff.

Anyways, with all the ingredients prepped, it was time to cook. First, a demonstration from Monica so we knew what to do.

Because, yes, this does involve setting fire to the food. And yes, my brain might have been playing Fire by Arthur Brown on a loop when it was my turn to cook. Oh, and did I mention there's pisco in this dish?

Yummy.

Following our cooking and devouring, a few of our group stuck around to learn how to make pisco sours. Fairly straightforward - add lime/lemon juice to egg white. Shake until foamy. Add pisco, syrup and ice. Shake until ice is broken up. Pour into glass. Add bitters.

Drink.

Yup, that was a pretty good way to spend 4 hours - explore, cook, eat, drink. Nom.

Following that, I spent a nice, relaxed evening at the hostel, finally sorting out another blog post. Unfortunately, whatever lurgies have been afflicting me on and off for the past week, decided to make a return just as I wanted to sleep. Urgh.

It has WiFi?!

I woke on Thursday morning still not feeling quite right, but determined to do something with my day. The morning was spent arguing with the hostel's WiFi and trying to get some more stuff sorted out for Chile. So now I have flights and a hostel sorted out for San Pedro de Atacama - I'm giving myself a whole week there because there's a lot to see. Also, if the last week has been anything to go by, I need to give myself time to properly slow down before I get ill again.

Satisfied that there was nothing else urgently in need of booking, I made my way to the Monasterio de Santa Catalina. This is apparently one of Arequipa's top attractions and only a 20 minute walk from the hostel. I figured if I had another attack of the lurgies, I could get back to my nice cosy bed pretty quick.

Also, I've never been in a monastery before. I'm not quite sure what I was expecting, especially as this is a still functioning monastery, not just a tourist attraction.

I definitely wasn't expecting brightly coloured walls. There's blue, orange and an almost-red. And it's beautiful.

I also wasn't expecting there to be WiFi. Which meant I had to do the stupid tourist thing and send a stupid selfie to Facebook proclaiming my surprise at the WiFi and the bright colours.

Yep. I'm so cool. The monastery was founded in 1579 and has survived through a fair few major earthquakes. Today the information says there are 21 nuns. I didn't see any at the monastery, but I have seen one or two around town - can't be sure they belong to Santa Catalina though. Many of the original cells are open, so you can see that the earlier nuns were from rich families. Not quite what you'd expect from an order that has poverty as one of its core values. This is the Profundis Room, where wakes were held.

There's also a great view over the monastery and city out towards the volcanoes that overlook Arequipa.

I spent a good couple of hours wandering round. It's a good job I had a map, because I can imagine that despite the semi-decent signage, it's pretty easy to get lost if you're not paying attention. The place is huge - very much a city within the city.

After that gloriously peaceful afternoon, I spent the evening fighting once again with the WiFi in an effort to get this post mostly finished and then had a bizarre meal of tomatoey mashed potato, cheese and tuna in an effort to use up the random assortment of food I had left. It was surprisingly delicious.

Adios, Peru

With Friday came my farewell to beautiful Peru. A very slow farewell that included more tomatoey mashed potato and a visit to Arequipa's enormous cathedral.

No one wants to hear about my ridiculous mish-mash cooking, so let's have a look at the cathedral instead. The place is huge, stretching along one entire side of the Plaza de Armas. It has been rebuilt a couple of times due to fire and earthquakes.

It's home to this enormous, Belgian-made organ, the biggest in Peru.

And a pulpit made in France which features this excellent carving of a devil being squished by the power of God.

The tour also took me up to the bell tower, where I couldn't help but think of the Hunchback of Notre Dame and was most disappointed to find a distinct lack of gargoyles. The bells, though, are pretty cool.

Also, the view from the roof is awesome, with the Plaza de Armas on one side...

And volcanoes on the other - Chachani, Misti and Pichu Pichu, although Pichu Pichu has got missed off the right side of this shot...

Very pretty. And then a delicious chocolate muffin in Starbucks. I love that the default state for muffins here is to be served warm. Yum.

A few more hours killed in the hostel and then off to the airport with a taxi driver who meandered between lanes, picked fights with buses and generally had me wondering if I was even going to make it to the airport.

Fortunately, I did get there in one piece, only to find that my flight had been delayed by an hour and a half. Given that I only had 4 hours between connections at Lima, I had to try hard not to panic. The lady at the desk was pretty cool - she put me in the second row so I could get off the plane quick and put my luggage through as priority, although I wasn't convinced it would help.

With far more time to waste at the airport than anticipated, I took myself out for tea at a surprisingly well-priced airport restaurant, where I had salchitodo.

Yes, it is a pile of chips with sausage, fried chicken and an egg. Yes, it was delicious. Apparently it's a variant on salchipapas, which is a popular fast food consisting of just the fries and sausage. And, because I needed to relieve the stress building up, I washed it all down with a delicious hot chocolate that was mostly chocolate and not milk.

Oh, and I finally tried Inca Kola. It tastes somewhere in between dandelion & burdock and bubblegum. Bit too sweet.

Somewhat less anxious, I toddled on up to the gates (Arequipa has a grand total of 4, all squished together) to see whether there was any news of my flight. Nope. No ETA, nothing. Anxiety returned.

And then, to my complete disgust, a Peruvian Airlines plane appeared and it wasn't mine. And I'm looking at the people getting on the flight wondering why they couldn't be delayed another few minutes so all us poor buggers who've been waiting ages for our flight could have that plane instead. After all, both flights were going to Lima.

Irrational, yes, I know. At any rate, I ended up on the plane and in the air by 9:30, a full 2 hours after my scheduled departure and worrying about how the fricking hell I was going to make my flight to Santiago.

Despite it clearly not being time for sleep, I was knackered and thought I'd try to catch forty winks. Peruvian Airlines had other plans and came round with a snack and a drink. Appreciated, but maybe not right at that moment. And then I went back to worrying and trying to sleep.

We arrived at Lima just before 11pm. My next flight was due at 1am. And we parked at a remote stand, which meant not only did I have to do the usual waiting to get off the damn plane, I then had to get a bus to the terminal. A nice, crowded bus that played up on other anxieties not related to missing flights.

First positive of the night came when my bag was first off the carousel. Apparently my doubts about the priority tag were misplaced. It was, at this point, 11:20pm.

Fast walk to the check in desks, where to my utter confusion and horror there is an enormous line for Sky Airline and my brain starts going "notgoingtomakeit, whatdoIdo?" on repeat.

Until I realise that pretty much everyone else in the line is waiting for the same flight. OK... does that mean I can stop panicking now?

Apparently, yes. Check in goes smoothly and then it's off to security where something in my bag gets the staff worried and a very friendly security man takes everything out of my bag in search of it. My bag is jammed full. It takes a while. The "threat" turns out to be a whole load of loose foreign coinage which has spilled out of the little box I was keeping it in. I should probably do something about that...

Flew through immigration, where I acquired another passport stamp. The Peruvian ones are pink. I like them. They're happy.

At any rate, I finally made it to the gate an hour ahead of departure. Plenty of time for me to calm down my poor, overworked, overanxious brain. And so, onto the plane.

Where I had to turf an old woman out of my seat, which was great fun because I couldn't work out how to say "that's my seat" in Spanish and had to rely on pointing repeatedly at my seat number and my ticket, which didn't work and then the steward had to get involved because she couldn't get it into her head that she was in the wrong seat. Ugh.

And then the plane was delayed nearly 30 minutes, but by that point I really couldn't give a shit any more because I just wanted to sleep. Which I did. Somehow.


Well, I'm now in Santiago. I have a month planned for Chile, with the first week involving much exploration of the capital and then heading south to Chiloe.

Let's see if my Spanish improves...