Just before Christmas, I´d discovered that the 2009 World Social Forum(http://www.fsm2009amazonia.org.br) would be held in Brazil in January, and got very excited about the possibility of going. Each day through the Christmas/New year period Colette and I debated whether or not it´d be feasible for us to go. Yes, the forum would be in Brazil, and yes, it was in January, and yes, it´s unlikely we´d ever have the opportunity to attend a World Social Forum in South America again. But, Belem is on the North East coast of Brazil, and Brazil is immense, taking up half the South American continent (about the size of the continental USA).
And, of course, we didn´t have the option of flying!! The distance is 4461.3 km!!!
The only possible route overland would be a 4461 km epic requiring 5 days/nights on buses solid back through Venezuela 5 days on a river boat on the mighty Amazon from Manaus to Belem. This would be a monster journey, a diversion that would take us way off track as we were meant to be heading South to Ecuador to begin a project in January.
We battled with this decision for days on end, until it became stupidly frustrating. In the end, we decided to go for it. Even though we were dying to get stuck into some projects, we hoped that attending the forum would renew our motivation, inspiration and hope. To be an activist, you need to be an optimist. But when the world´s troubles are so immense and complex, it´s easy to become overwhelmed and occasionally that hope wavers.
Every now and then you need to be surrounded by other people who share your views, and your hunger for change. You need to be reminded that around the world, tens of thousands of people are fighting for a better world and that there is still hope.
After returning from amazing gatherings such as Climate Camp (www.climatecamp.org.uk), I´ve always been invigorated and energised from witnessing the creativity, love and determination that people have for creating positive change. Its infectious and empowering, and if channeled correctly, can really inspire great things.
Maybe we´d find out about some amazing projects/organisations which are doing amazing things in South America, which we could then get involved in later in the trip? Maybe going to the World Social Forum would actually define the rest of our trip?
And this of course is the beauty of travelling without a rigid plan. If something comes up, you have the freedom to drop everything and head in the opposite direction.
And so, with excitement and a new sense of purpose, we headed to the Cartagena bus station, to begin our long journey to Brazil for the 9th World Social Forum.
3 January 2009
Cartagena: A new year´s freestyle (soundtrack: Endo G and Killa B)
Cartagena was every bit as beautiful as it had been made out to be. We spent many an hour just wandering around the old town; cobbled alleys, colourful old buildings looking like they were about to collapse into one another, huge balconeys giving birth to cascades of flowers and horse-drawn carriages rattling through the streets below. Here and there old men wander past tries calls ¨Tinto, Tinto¨ as he tries to sell his tiny cups of extra sweet coffe (Tinto).
Cuban son and Salsa fill the air from the array of tiny bars and cafes that line the streets, along with the old buildings making the whole place feel like Havanah, Cuba, or at least what I imagine Havanah to be like.
It used to be the main Spanish port on the Caribbean coast, and was used to store treasures stolen from the indigenous people before they were shipped back to Europe.
As a result, it became a target for pirates and was repeatedly sieged during bloody attacks, some of the worst happening during the 16th century (Bad Karma I say - thats what ye get for being nasty imperial colonialists, yaaarrrggggghhh!). To try to pevent the attacks the Spaniards built huge walls encircling the town, making it into a fortress.
It´s a pretty amazing place. Walking around, you really do fell like you´ve gone back in time a few centuriese. Until you pass the Hardrock Cafe that is. Behind our posada was a park that was home to a troop of little monkeys and some Iguanas which run around fighting each other like battling dinosaurs.
We had a great time on New Year´s eve. Our friends were staying at a hotel with a terrace over-looking the main fort, so we met loads of friends (many of which we´d met previously along the road) there for a cocktail party. At 11-ish we set off for the old town, and later on 7 of us managed to crash a party that was happening in one of the main squares. It´d had been fenced off, and would have cost a couple of hundred dollars to get in, but somehow we just drifted through an opening in the fence! If we´d have actually planned to crash it, we´d have probably been busted, but as we just wandered in spontaneously, without even thinking about it, nobody noticed. After dancing around to the live salsa on stage drinking Champagne, the spontaneity continued when our dutch friend Dustin randomly asked me if i wanted to try and get on stage to rap. There was some famous Reggaeton crew performing, and we agreed that we thought we could do better. So, somehow, he got talking to some of the stage crew, giving them some bullshit about us being a famous crew in Europe. When asked our names, he came out with a beauty of a cliched classic: he was ¨Endo G¨, and I ¨Killa B¨!!!! Incredibly, a short while later, a guy came and said ¨okay, come on¨ and before we could think about it, Dustin and I were lead underneath the stage, up some stairs and into the bright lights! The rest of our friends couldn´t believe what was going on, screaming up at us from the front of the crowd with bemused faces. We were handed a mic each, a beat started, and we took it in turn to rap, 8 bars each, to a crowd of about 1000 people!!! It was insane, non of us could believe it! Everything just happened so spontaneously that night.....if we´d had time to really think about getting up on stage, or thought about what we were going to say, I´m sure we´d have come unstuck. But, we just did it, and it worked...depsite being hammered i do remember us holding down a freestyle on rhythm, and it ended up being the highlight of a crazy old new year´s eve!!! Just a damn shame no one brought out their camera. In hindsight, maybe I should have used that opportunity to denounce President Uribe. Hmmmm, maybe it was a good job I wasn't thinking clearly afterall...
Our roll came to an end when we tried to help ourselves to the free buffet afterwards.....we´d pushed our luck too far, the staff looked unimpressed, and so we decided it was time to leave before we were given the boot.
What a night!
Cuban son and Salsa fill the air from the array of tiny bars and cafes that line the streets, along with the old buildings making the whole place feel like Havanah, Cuba, or at least what I imagine Havanah to be like.
It used to be the main Spanish port on the Caribbean coast, and was used to store treasures stolen from the indigenous people before they were shipped back to Europe.
As a result, it became a target for pirates and was repeatedly sieged during bloody attacks, some of the worst happening during the 16th century (Bad Karma I say - thats what ye get for being nasty imperial colonialists, yaaarrrggggghhh!). To try to pevent the attacks the Spaniards built huge walls encircling the town, making it into a fortress.
It´s a pretty amazing place. Walking around, you really do fell like you´ve gone back in time a few centuriese. Until you pass the Hardrock Cafe that is. Behind our posada was a park that was home to a troop of little monkeys and some Iguanas which run around fighting each other like battling dinosaurs.
We had a great time on New Year´s eve. Our friends were staying at a hotel with a terrace over-looking the main fort, so we met loads of friends (many of which we´d met previously along the road) there for a cocktail party. At 11-ish we set off for the old town, and later on 7 of us managed to crash a party that was happening in one of the main squares. It´d had been fenced off, and would have cost a couple of hundred dollars to get in, but somehow we just drifted through an opening in the fence! If we´d have actually planned to crash it, we´d have probably been busted, but as we just wandered in spontaneously, without even thinking about it, nobody noticed. After dancing around to the live salsa on stage drinking Champagne, the spontaneity continued when our dutch friend Dustin randomly asked me if i wanted to try and get on stage to rap. There was some famous Reggaeton crew performing, and we agreed that we thought we could do better. So, somehow, he got talking to some of the stage crew, giving them some bullshit about us being a famous crew in Europe. When asked our names, he came out with a beauty of a cliched classic: he was ¨Endo G¨, and I ¨Killa B¨!!!! Incredibly, a short while later, a guy came and said ¨okay, come on¨ and before we could think about it, Dustin and I were lead underneath the stage, up some stairs and into the bright lights! The rest of our friends couldn´t believe what was going on, screaming up at us from the front of the crowd with bemused faces. We were handed a mic each, a beat started, and we took it in turn to rap, 8 bars each, to a crowd of about 1000 people!!! It was insane, non of us could believe it! Everything just happened so spontaneously that night.....if we´d had time to really think about getting up on stage, or thought about what we were going to say, I´m sure we´d have come unstuck. But, we just did it, and it worked...depsite being hammered i do remember us holding down a freestyle on rhythm, and it ended up being the highlight of a crazy old new year´s eve!!! Just a damn shame no one brought out their camera. In hindsight, maybe I should have used that opportunity to denounce President Uribe. Hmmmm, maybe it was a good job I wasn't thinking clearly afterall...
Our roll came to an end when we tried to help ourselves to the free buffet afterwards.....we´d pushed our luck too far, the staff looked unimpressed, and so we decided it was time to leave before we were given the boot.
What a night!
27 December 2008
Christmas in Colombia
We set off from Merida to Maricaibo, and then from Maricaibo to Maico just past the Colombian border. We must have been stopped by military police about 7 times along the way. Each time the officer would make his way along the bus, checking peoples ID at random, and eventually asking to see our passports. On one occasion the guy asked to see our airport stamp. With a combination of broken spanish and sign language, I tried to explain that we didnt come on the plane, because of course that's bad for mother earth, and that we came on a boat. He continued to point at random pages in my passport wanting to see an airport stamp, and repeating a word i didn´t understand. In the end, he could see he wasn't getting anywhere with this simple grinning gringo, and after recieving what appeared to be a back hander from the bus driver's assistant, he left the bus and we continued. Obviously he´d wanted a bribe (the corrupt cops/military here will pick any bullshit excuse), but had got sick of this simple grinning gringo. Not quite sure what was going on, but we saw the bus conductor give many of the cops back handers along the way, it´s pretty crazy.
The bus ride which was meant to take about 12 hours ended up taking almost 24, namely due to the delapidated dinosaur of a bus which we boarded in Maricaibo, thinking we'd save a few dollars. After every stop we´d begin a painful accelerration and lumber away in a cloud of dust and exhuast fumes, serenaded by a chorus of angry horn beeps from drivers unfortunate enough to be caught behind us.
We finally got to our destination that night - the little fishing village of Taganga. After a shower and some well deserved beers and food, we thankfully collapsed onto our bed. Next morning we were awoken by the sounds of tropical birds, and looked out of our window to see a beautiful blue sky and the sea!
Taganga was a great little place. During the brief walk along the road from our hostel to the sea front you´d bump into donkeys lazily chewing on crap, goats with their young nervously wandering around, chickens pecking in the dust and dogs playing and dozing in the shade. Children played in the sun, flying home-made kites in the ever-present forgiving breeze. The locals were really laid back and friendly, and you could buy amazing fresh fruit juice everywhere for $1. The fruit in Colombia is amazing, our firm favourtie being Maracuja (passion fruit). You cut the skin open to reveal a clump of sweet, delicious slime, which smells as amazing as it tastes, despite looking like yellow frogspawn. We spent a few days checking out the beaches nearby, which were horribly overcrowded due to it being Colombian holiday time and reading James Lovelocks' 'The revenge of Gaia'.
Went diving and it felt amazing to be underwater again. Had 4 dives and saw a few fish I'd never seen before, their names escape me now, along with Morray eels, a few different species of angel fish, and the highlight, my first Hawksbill turtle and on Christmas eve!
Met loads of great people, many of whom we'd met earlier in Venezuela and began planning Christmas festivities. The Colombians actually celebrate Christmas at 12 midnight on the 24th. The atmosphere was great throughout the town and we prepared for a night of serious rummage. They seem to love these ridiculous giagantic blow-up nativity scenes out here, every town we visited had them. Giant virgin Marys looking like somewhere between a monstrous smirf and the Michellin man, towered above huge cribs and ill-looking giant donkeys, all lit up with christmas lights. They're truly tac-tastic. To add to the tac, everywhere you went you were serenaded by the sounds of an awful medly of singing Christmas lights, playing the same mini 'mega-mix' over and over again, until you couldn't help imagining taking a rock and pummeling them to smitherines.
Christmas eve passed in a haze of cheap rum, and Christmas day was a rite-off as I suffered the most hideous hang over I've experienced for some time. I eventually sprang back to life after electrocuting myself trying to plug some Christmas lights in (that´ll teach me to curse the lights and we got started on a belated Christmas dinner, which wasn't very traditional but delicious all the same.
Boxing day saw us heading to the nearby Tayrona National park where we camped for 4 nights, next to the beach. At last, the tent had been errected!!! After more than 2 months of lugging the damn thing around, we actually put it to use.
The National park was gorgeous, amazing beaches and rock formations, and plenty of jungle walks, including one to a Pre-hispanic settlement called Pueblito, which is
still inhabited by Tayrona Indians. Saw a troop of amazing little monkeys but the
Toucans remained elusive. Loved cooking over an open fire once again, so satisfying, even with the hot smoke seering my pupils and lungs. And the stars! Frogs and toads sang their nocturnal chorus, glow worms flashed here and there, and a scan over the river with the torch would reveal the amber eyes of small Caimen lying in wait of passing fish.
The bus ride which was meant to take about 12 hours ended up taking almost 24, namely due to the delapidated dinosaur of a bus which we boarded in Maricaibo, thinking we'd save a few dollars. After every stop we´d begin a painful accelerration and lumber away in a cloud of dust and exhuast fumes, serenaded by a chorus of angry horn beeps from drivers unfortunate enough to be caught behind us.
We finally got to our destination that night - the little fishing village of Taganga. After a shower and some well deserved beers and food, we thankfully collapsed onto our bed. Next morning we were awoken by the sounds of tropical birds, and looked out of our window to see a beautiful blue sky and the sea!
Taganga was a great little place. During the brief walk along the road from our hostel to the sea front you´d bump into donkeys lazily chewing on crap, goats with their young nervously wandering around, chickens pecking in the dust and dogs playing and dozing in the shade. Children played in the sun, flying home-made kites in the ever-present forgiving breeze. The locals were really laid back and friendly, and you could buy amazing fresh fruit juice everywhere for $1. The fruit in Colombia is amazing, our firm favourtie being Maracuja (passion fruit). You cut the skin open to reveal a clump of sweet, delicious slime, which smells as amazing as it tastes, despite looking like yellow frogspawn. We spent a few days checking out the beaches nearby, which were horribly overcrowded due to it being Colombian holiday time and reading James Lovelocks' 'The revenge of Gaia'.
Went diving and it felt amazing to be underwater again. Had 4 dives and saw a few fish I'd never seen before, their names escape me now, along with Morray eels, a few different species of angel fish, and the highlight, my first Hawksbill turtle and on Christmas eve!
Met loads of great people, many of whom we'd met earlier in Venezuela and began planning Christmas festivities. The Colombians actually celebrate Christmas at 12 midnight on the 24th. The atmosphere was great throughout the town and we prepared for a night of serious rummage. They seem to love these ridiculous giagantic blow-up nativity scenes out here, every town we visited had them. Giant virgin Marys looking like somewhere between a monstrous smirf and the Michellin man, towered above huge cribs and ill-looking giant donkeys, all lit up with christmas lights. They're truly tac-tastic. To add to the tac, everywhere you went you were serenaded by the sounds of an awful medly of singing Christmas lights, playing the same mini 'mega-mix' over and over again, until you couldn't help imagining taking a rock and pummeling them to smitherines.
Christmas eve passed in a haze of cheap rum, and Christmas day was a rite-off as I suffered the most hideous hang over I've experienced for some time. I eventually sprang back to life after electrocuting myself trying to plug some Christmas lights in (that´ll teach me to curse the lights and we got started on a belated Christmas dinner, which wasn't very traditional but delicious all the same.
Boxing day saw us heading to the nearby Tayrona National park where we camped for 4 nights, next to the beach. At last, the tent had been errected!!! After more than 2 months of lugging the damn thing around, we actually put it to use.
The National park was gorgeous, amazing beaches and rock formations, and plenty of jungle walks, including one to a Pre-hispanic settlement called Pueblito, which is
still inhabited by Tayrona Indians. Saw a troop of amazing little monkeys but the
Toucans remained elusive. Loved cooking over an open fire once again, so satisfying, even with the hot smoke seering my pupils and lungs. And the stars! Frogs and toads sang their nocturnal chorus, glow worms flashed here and there, and a scan over the river with the torch would reveal the amber eyes of small Caimen lying in wait of passing fish.
15 December 2008
Venezuela Pt II: Andes, fanny tours & a 3-wheeled bus
On arriving back in Santa Elena from our Roraima treck, we decided to get the bus that evening back to Cuidad Bolivar despite being knackered as doing the night buses saves on a night's accommodation. It was another 12 hour journey, but the coaches in Venezuela are similar to those in S.E. Asia; modern, efficient and comfortable, having reclining seats and ample leg space. But, like their Asian counterparts, the conductors seem to believe that all people boarding are actually Inuits from the Poles and that they must therefore recreate Arctic living conditions on the bus by blasting the air conditioning on full for the duration of the trip. As the full coaches set off, people in every seat begin to rummage in their bags and pull out jumpers, hats and blankets in anticipation of the incoming ice-age. I remember the first time in Thailand 3 years ago where I foolishly boarded night bus in my beach attire. Never again. Now I always take the trusty sleeping bag.
We arrived early the next morning and spent another night in Ciudad Bolivar, where we met Stephanie (Germany) and Rickie (Sweden) who accompanyed us on the following night to our next location, the city of Merida in the North-West. This was a 20 plus hour journey, with a change in BarinasAs we got closer, the scenery became completely different, with the road winding around colourful little villages, farms and highland rivers full of trout. The people looked more like indigenous Andeans and wore traditional hats and ponchos. The climate changed from humid to cool and cloudy.
Merida is located on a plateau formation in the valley of the Chama river, in the 400km long northern end of the Andes range that belong to Venezuela. It stands at an altitude of 1,630 m above sea level, and is surrounded by mountains including the highest Venezuelan summit: the Bolivar Peak.We loved it. It's a university city, so has a youthful vibrance about the place, and it feels really liberal and laid back. Combined with the charm of Andean culture, it made for a nice place to stay for a while. We first stayed in a lovely hostel with a terrace which looked out onto the nearby mountains and it felt like eating breakfast in the Alps every morning, with the pleasant slightly more comfortable temperature. We found a couple of Veggie restaurants, our favourite being restaurante vegetariano on Ave 3, Calle 27, where you could get a set menu for 7 bolivars, the cheapest set menu we'd seen. I think it was vegan. The only thing we disliked was the air pollution from the fleet of huge, ancient American cars that constantly patrolled the streets. Some of them looked as though they were about to disintagrate. They must get them cheap from the states.
We decided to do a week of Spanish lessons at the IOWA Institute. With it being low season, there weren't many travellers around, so the classes were very personal. We were impressed with the school and were enjoying being in Merida, and so 1 week of lessons became 2.
After spending some time going to bars to ask if I could DJ, and being told to come back, and going back and then been told to come back again, I finally got myself a set at Banana's cocktail bar. I got to play for about 4 hours, with the cocktails flowing freely to me & Colette (and plenty subtly finding their way to our friends. Well, maybe not that subtly..). It's pretty funny here, I'd noticed on the radio and in another bar that the DJ's always plug themselves on the mic, and so the bar manager continued to shove the mic in my face and order 'Habla'! Of course after a few cocktails it didn´t take much persuasion to get me on the mic (Yes Nick!) much to Colettes' disgust. "Soy DJ Defunkt de Inglaterra, terra, terra! Este es Drum & Bass, bass, bass! Que paso Merida?!".It went down well, and reminded me how much I miss mixing to a crowd. The aim is to get to play at least once in each country visited.
One day, we went with our good friends Eli (Eng) and Bert (Holland) to Llano del Hato to see Latin America's 2nd largest telescope. The plan was to check out the stars, and then just find a spot to throw up the tent for the night, and get the bus back again first thing in the morn. The bus journey along this road is amazing. We passed campsinos ploughing their fields with oxen-pulled ploughs, gorgeous little villages with houses painted yellow, blue and pink and then "BANG, SSSSSCCCCCRRRRRRRR". I thought we'd been hit by another vehicle, and looked out of the window to see a wheel roll past. Then we realised that it was actually our wheel, and it had fallen off, just like that. We literally grinded to a halt. It was hilareous, we were all just pissing ourselves! The passengers calmly collected their belongings, and got off the bus to wait for the next, as though a wheel gone AWOL was just a part of their daily routine. After finding his wheel, the driver joined us in waiting for the next bus, and left his 3-wheeled casualty for dead on the narrow mountain road.
After 2 more hours we stopped for food at a cute little cafe. An annoying local guy persistantly tried to impress us by roughly picking up a tiny decrepit kitten by it's flea-bitten tail, poor little bugger. He was soon scared away by Colette's scowl of disapproval.
We finally reached the telescopes to be informed that they were closed until the following week. We pleaded to be let in, for just a quick peep at the stars, but it was in vain, and so we decided to return to Merida! The day had neem a disaster, but we'd all had such fun!
We weighed up doing another treck (especially with tour operators with names such as 'fanny tours & adventures'), or some camping in the hills but in the end decided that it was time to move on, as we'd been in Venezuela for 5 weeks and spent a fair bit of money. Also, we reckoned we'd have plenty of chance to see animals such as Caimans, Piranas and Capyburas once we'd entered the Amazon. After some careful consideration, we decided that Colombia would be our next port of call. Most travellers we'd met were either on their way there, or on they're way back, and all who'd been had given rave reviews. So, risking the initiation of 4 simoultaneous heart attacks from our parents, we got ready to head West to Colombia..........
We arrived early the next morning and spent another night in Ciudad Bolivar, where we met Stephanie (Germany) and Rickie (Sweden) who accompanyed us on the following night to our next location, the city of Merida in the North-West. This was a 20 plus hour journey, with a change in BarinasAs we got closer, the scenery became completely different, with the road winding around colourful little villages, farms and highland rivers full of trout. The people looked more like indigenous Andeans and wore traditional hats and ponchos. The climate changed from humid to cool and cloudy.
Merida is located on a plateau formation in the valley of the Chama river, in the 400km long northern end of the Andes range that belong to Venezuela. It stands at an altitude of 1,630 m above sea level, and is surrounded by mountains including the highest Venezuelan summit: the Bolivar Peak.We loved it. It's a university city, so has a youthful vibrance about the place, and it feels really liberal and laid back. Combined with the charm of Andean culture, it made for a nice place to stay for a while. We first stayed in a lovely hostel with a terrace which looked out onto the nearby mountains and it felt like eating breakfast in the Alps every morning, with the pleasant slightly more comfortable temperature. We found a couple of Veggie restaurants, our favourite being restaurante vegetariano on Ave 3, Calle 27, where you could get a set menu for 7 bolivars, the cheapest set menu we'd seen. I think it was vegan. The only thing we disliked was the air pollution from the fleet of huge, ancient American cars that constantly patrolled the streets. Some of them looked as though they were about to disintagrate. They must get them cheap from the states.We decided to do a week of Spanish lessons at the IOWA Institute. With it being low season, there weren't many travellers around, so the classes were very personal. We were impressed with the school and were enjoying being in Merida, and so 1 week of lessons became 2.
After spending some time going to bars to ask if I could DJ, and being told to come back, and going back and then been told to come back again, I finally got myself a set at Banana's cocktail bar. I got to play for about 4 hours, with the cocktails flowing freely to me & Colette (and plenty subtly finding their way to our friends. Well, maybe not that subtly..). It's pretty funny here, I'd noticed on the radio and in another bar that the DJ's always plug themselves on the mic, and so the bar manager continued to shove the mic in my face and order 'Habla'! Of course after a few cocktails it didn´t take much persuasion to get me on the mic (Yes Nick!) much to Colettes' disgust. "Soy DJ Defunkt de Inglaterra, terra, terra! Este es Drum & Bass, bass, bass! Que paso Merida?!".It went down well, and reminded me how much I miss mixing to a crowd. The aim is to get to play at least once in each country visited.
One day, we went with our good friends Eli (Eng) and Bert (Holland) to Llano del Hato to see Latin America's 2nd largest telescope. The plan was to check out the stars, and then just find a spot to throw up the tent for the night, and get the bus back again first thing in the morn. The bus journey along this road is amazing. We passed campsinos ploughing their fields with oxen-pulled ploughs, gorgeous little villages with houses painted yellow, blue and pink and then "BANG, SSSSSCCCCCRRRRRRRR". I thought we'd been hit by another vehicle, and looked out of the window to see a wheel roll past. Then we realised that it was actually our wheel, and it had fallen off, just like that. We literally grinded to a halt. It was hilareous, we were all just pissing ourselves! The passengers calmly collected their belongings, and got off the bus to wait for the next, as though a wheel gone AWOL was just a part of their daily routine. After finding his wheel, the driver joined us in waiting for the next bus, and left his 3-wheeled casualty for dead on the narrow mountain road.After 2 more hours we stopped for food at a cute little cafe. An annoying local guy persistantly tried to impress us by roughly picking up a tiny decrepit kitten by it's flea-bitten tail, poor little bugger. He was soon scared away by Colette's scowl of disapproval.
We finally reached the telescopes to be informed that they were closed until the following week. We pleaded to be let in, for just a quick peep at the stars, but it was in vain, and so we decided to return to Merida! The day had neem a disaster, but we'd all had such fun!
We weighed up doing another treck (especially with tour operators with names such as 'fanny tours & adventures'), or some camping in the hills but in the end decided that it was time to move on, as we'd been in Venezuela for 5 weeks and spent a fair bit of money. Also, we reckoned we'd have plenty of chance to see animals such as Caimans, Piranas and Capyburas once we'd entered the Amazon. After some careful consideration, we decided that Colombia would be our next port of call. Most travellers we'd met were either on their way there, or on they're way back, and all who'd been had given rave reviews. So, risking the initiation of 4 simoultaneous heart attacks from our parents, we got ready to head West to Colombia..........
21 November 2008
Wake up call
I recently read an article which left me feeling depressed and angry (http://www.monbiot.com/archives/2008/11/25/one-shot-left/). It certainly served as a wake up call and a stark reminder of the situation we´re facing.
It took me a while to decide on whether or not to do this trip. I felt that it would be a tad hedonistic to go swaning off around the world again, at such a critical point for the future of humanity and our planet. Shouldn't I be helping to plan and organise direct action in the UK, to pressure the Government into rapid and radical change?
Climate change activism is blooming in the UK at the moment, as more and more people wake up to the severity of our situation.
A growing number of people are loosing faith in our government's supposed will to seriously tackle climate change, and are sick of the rhetoric that surrounds it. They are realising that it could very soon be too late to turn things around and prevent 'run away' climate change, and that their children (not just their Grandchildren, or Great Grandchildren) will face problems more severe than any that have been experienced in the history of mankind. Hence the recent bloom in climate change-based activism in the UK, and in other countries.
When 57 activists shut down Stansted airport earlier this month to highlight the ludicrous plans for infinate airport expansion, at a time when the science says we need to drastically reduce this industry, it's not because they're 'idiots' or 'troublemakers'. They're not doing it for kicks. They really don't want to disrupt people's holidays - they know that without the masses onboard, things won't change. In fact they´d hoped the situation wouldn't become so drastic as to warrant this type of behaviour. But, when all other avenues for negotiation are closed down, what choice is left but to take your future back into your own hands?
When the Sufferagettes engaged in a programme of civil disobedience to fight for the right to vote for women, they were chastised, and told that they were wasting their time. But those ordinary women had made a brave commitment to stand up and act and they eventually made the change they knew was right.
And the same for the masses of brave black people in the states, who after years of oppression realised that non-violent direct action was the powerful tool which they needed to instigate a just social change. Lead by that amazing man Martin Luthur King, they overcame their fear of the law, and successfully created a better future for their prodigy. And King himself had studied Ghandi and India's mass movement for change earlier in the century. Again, non - violent resistance, or Satyagraha, was ultimately what lead to India's freedom from British rule.
So, the people who are being brave enough to challenge to stand up to the system today are only following in the age old tradition of civil disobedience. But this time, it´s not only about oppression, but about our collective future on this planet.
It must have been a terrible and stressful inconvenience for those whose travel plans had been ruined by that action. But the inconvenience that we will all face due to increased freak weather events, rising sea levels, loss of agricultural land and productivity and increased conflicts over dwindling resources will be far greater.
So, that article reminded me that we had decided that this trip would't just be about us. We planned to participate in many environmetal awareness projects, and to spread the word about climate camp and this new movement for global change. We also planned to learn new skills for for living in a changing world, gained through working on organic farms and permaculture projects.
So, with a renewed sense of urgency, we're preparing to enter the productive bulk of this trip, starting with a 2 weeks of spanish lessons to help us in communication in these issues. Then, in early January, we've organised a stint in an environmental education centre & organic farm in Ecuador. Here, we also hope to meet a prominent local environmental activist whose raising awareness about the effects of climate change in South America.
I will anyone who has read this to read the above article link if they haven't, or again if they have. It's too late to wait for someone else to make things better for us. The change has to come from ourselves.
It took me a while to decide on whether or not to do this trip. I felt that it would be a tad hedonistic to go swaning off around the world again, at such a critical point for the future of humanity and our planet. Shouldn't I be helping to plan and organise direct action in the UK, to pressure the Government into rapid and radical change?
Climate change activism is blooming in the UK at the moment, as more and more people wake up to the severity of our situation.
A growing number of people are loosing faith in our government's supposed will to seriously tackle climate change, and are sick of the rhetoric that surrounds it. They are realising that it could very soon be too late to turn things around and prevent 'run away' climate change, and that their children (not just their Grandchildren, or Great Grandchildren) will face problems more severe than any that have been experienced in the history of mankind. Hence the recent bloom in climate change-based activism in the UK, and in other countries.
When 57 activists shut down Stansted airport earlier this month to highlight the ludicrous plans for infinate airport expansion, at a time when the science says we need to drastically reduce this industry, it's not because they're 'idiots' or 'troublemakers'. They're not doing it for kicks. They really don't want to disrupt people's holidays - they know that without the masses onboard, things won't change. In fact they´d hoped the situation wouldn't become so drastic as to warrant this type of behaviour. But, when all other avenues for negotiation are closed down, what choice is left but to take your future back into your own hands?
When the Sufferagettes engaged in a programme of civil disobedience to fight for the right to vote for women, they were chastised, and told that they were wasting their time. But those ordinary women had made a brave commitment to stand up and act and they eventually made the change they knew was right.
And the same for the masses of brave black people in the states, who after years of oppression realised that non-violent direct action was the powerful tool which they needed to instigate a just social change. Lead by that amazing man Martin Luthur King, they overcame their fear of the law, and successfully created a better future for their prodigy. And King himself had studied Ghandi and India's mass movement for change earlier in the century. Again, non - violent resistance, or Satyagraha, was ultimately what lead to India's freedom from British rule.
So, the people who are being brave enough to challenge to stand up to the system today are only following in the age old tradition of civil disobedience. But this time, it´s not only about oppression, but about our collective future on this planet.
It must have been a terrible and stressful inconvenience for those whose travel plans had been ruined by that action. But the inconvenience that we will all face due to increased freak weather events, rising sea levels, loss of agricultural land and productivity and increased conflicts over dwindling resources will be far greater.
So, that article reminded me that we had decided that this trip would't just be about us. We planned to participate in many environmetal awareness projects, and to spread the word about climate camp and this new movement for global change. We also planned to learn new skills for for living in a changing world, gained through working on organic farms and permaculture projects.
So, with a renewed sense of urgency, we're preparing to enter the productive bulk of this trip, starting with a 2 weeks of spanish lessons to help us in communication in these issues. Then, in early January, we've organised a stint in an environmental education centre & organic farm in Ecuador. Here, we also hope to meet a prominent local environmental activist whose raising awareness about the effects of climate change in South America.
I will anyone who has read this to read the above article link if they haven't, or again if they have. It's too late to wait for someone else to make things better for us. The change has to come from ourselves.
20 November 2008
Venezuela - Enter Bush´s axis of evil. I mean oil. Soundtrack: car alarms and Reggaeton
After worrying about whether or not we had enough money for the tickets & departure tax etc we were relieved to finaly board the sea prowler and got ready for a pleasant 3 hour trip to Guiria, Venezuela´s north eastern port. Onboard, we met our first bunch of backpackers, an interesting mix; a spanish guy who´s traveling around working as a dive instructor, an American Christian missionary on his way to try and persuade indegenous people to adopt his beliefs, a German herbalist with only his mountain bike and tiny backpack on his way around the worlds' vertical axis (he'd already done a trip on his bike previously around the world laterally), and a guy from Liverpool who just seemed angry and annoyed at everything.
It definately seemed like some other world-type shizzle on the top; big craters, crazy plants, crystal clear lakes and streams, and all surrounded by the white clouds below. Although, once again, the beauty was tainted by the touch of man, the paths strewn with plastic food wrappers and beer cans discarded by tourists and locals alike. By the end Colette and I had collected a bag full of other people´s waste.
On arrival, I was in for a bit of a shock. Up until this point I was sure that my Spanish was adequate enough for getting around, and doing all the important things you need a different language for. However, my first dialogue with a taxi driver highlighted the fact that my Spanish was weak at best, and that much work needed to be done.
We headed straight to the local bank, only to find that none of the 4 cards we have between us worked in the machines, so after finding a hotel (the hostel we´d intended to use appeared to be shut), we went into a bank, phrasebooks in hand, to put my Spanish to its second test. This time, I was understood, and to our delight, our palms were crossed with silver.
It felt great to be back in Latin America. The reggae and socca that'd been our daily soundtrack in T&T was replaced with Salsa, Merengue and, unfortunately, Reggaeton - South America's answer to urban music. Despite my dislike for the latter, it took me straight back to my first visit to Latin America 3 years ago, when I travelled through Central America. Aaaah The hustle & Bustle in the streets, the smells of the street food, the music pumping from every possible nook & cranny, the piles of stinking rubbish in the street.....okay, this bit was horrible, in fact I´ve never seen dirtier, rubbish-filled streets like these before.
Anyway, we soon realised that Venezuela was going to add to the dent in our budget already caused by T&T. If only we´d have got our hands on those US dollars; you can change them for a good rate here, and more or less double your wealth. People want them here so that they can buy things overseas....as the Bolivar fuerte, isnt that ´fuerte´(strong) anywhere outside of Venezuela. In fact they're pretty worthless anywhere else. As a result, you can either get money at the official rate which at the time was 2.15 to $1 US, or you can change US dollars in most shops, for up to 5 to $1 US. This is the black market. And we had hardly any US with us. This wouldnt have been quite so annoying if we hadnt already lost a large fraction of our savings due to the devaluation of the British pound over the last few months. To add to this, the inflation in Venezuela over the last year has been very high, so everything was pretty expensive, in fact damn expensive.
After a couple of days in Guiria, weighing up our money situation and adapting to a new world, we got a bus to Cuidad Bolivar. Here I made a classic mistake. When we asked how long the bus would take, we were pleased to hear only 2 .5 hours. However, the number 2 sounds very much like the number 12 in Spanish. So, after 3 hours on the bus we asked how long it´d be only to discover that we had only 10 hours left, mas o menus. Ah, yes, the distances, how could I forget?! And there was us thinking that we were prepared for the trip with our meagre packed lunch.
Spent a few days in Cuidad Bolivar, which has some nice colourful colonial Spanish buildings, with cobbled streets and the works. There are a couple of beautiful old hostels, or posadas, to stay in, one of which was Posada Patria; a German-run building of no less than 275 years. It had an open courtyard with lots of plants, loads of cool artifacts on the walls, a lounge dedicated to Cuban Jazz, hammocks and a couple of randy tortoises who kept us entertained with their rather noisy and perculiar copulation sessions.
We also stayed in Don Carlos, another beautiful posada, whose belgium owner took delight in taking any opportunity to share his opinions on the country's political situation. We made a habit of asking pretty much anyone we came accross, mainly Venezuelans, what they thought of Senor Chavez to try to build a more accurate picture of whats really going on with the 'revolution'. And, we got some interesting insight. But more on this later.
Most travellers stayin
g in this town are either on their way back from or heading to 2 of Venezuela´s most magnificant natural wonders; Angel falls, or Roraima in the National park of Cainama. We tried to find a way to check out Angel Falls without flying, but had no luck. Instead, we headed to Santa Elena on the Brazillian border to go on a 6 day treck to the top of the impressive Roraima; one of many huge table-top mountains (or 'Tepuis') that are scattered around the Canaima National park. Apparently they were the inspiration for Author Conan Doyle's 'The Lost World' (what a classic) and I can see why, the whole place did seem very Jurassic Park. It wouldn't have seemed so unusual if we'd passed a Diplodoc
us or two along the way. It was a stunning area, totally unique and formed from the oldest rocks on earth. After the second day, it still seemed implausible that we'd actually reach the top....the monstrous rocky sides jut vertically from the base of the mountain and dissapear into the clouds. It took 3 days to reach the plateau, stopping to camp along the way, and swimming & drinking the cool river water.
g in this town are either on their way back from or heading to 2 of Venezuela´s most magnificant natural wonders; Angel falls, or Roraima in the National park of Cainama. We tried to find a way to check out Angel Falls without flying, but had no luck. Instead, we headed to Santa Elena on the Brazillian border to go on a 6 day treck to the top of the impressive Roraima; one of many huge table-top mountains (or 'Tepuis') that are scattered around the Canaima National park. Apparently they were the inspiration for Author Conan Doyle's 'The Lost World' (what a classic) and I can see why, the whole place did seem very Jurassic Park. It wouldn't have seemed so unusual if we'd passed a Diplodoc
us or two along the way. It was a stunning area, totally unique and formed from the oldest rocks on earth. After the second day, it still seemed implausible that we'd actually reach the top....the monstrous rocky sides jut vertically from the base of the mountain and dissapear into the clouds. It took 3 days to reach the plateau, stopping to camp along the way, and swimming & drinking the cool river water. Canaima, the name of the park, derives from the novel "Canaima" by Venezuelan author Rómulo Gallegos, and means "spirit of evil" in the language of the Pemón, the indigenous inhabitants of the park. It didnt feel particularly evil though. At the top there are many ende
mic species, that is, plants and animals found nowhere else on earth. We found cool carnivorous plants like sundews, and tiny crawling black frogs. Unfortunatley, this century will probably spell the end of the road for many of these organisms. As things warm up, they won't be able to migrate any further up, as they already live on the top, so unless they rapidly evolve wings and fly to somewhere with a more suitable climate, they're f*cked. It's sobering to think that we may be some of the last people to see these lifeforms that have been in existance for so long.
mic species, that is, plants and animals found nowhere else on earth. We found cool carnivorous plants like sundews, and tiny crawling black frogs. Unfortunatley, this century will probably spell the end of the road for many of these organisms. As things warm up, they won't be able to migrate any further up, as they already live on the top, so unless they rapidly evolve wings and fly to somewhere with a more suitable climate, they're f*cked. It's sobering to think that we may be some of the last people to see these lifeforms that have been in existance for so long. 
It definately seemed like some other world-type shizzle on the top; big craters, crazy plants, crystal clear lakes and streams, and all surrounded by the white clouds below. Although, once again, the beauty was tainted by the touch of man, the paths strewn with plastic food wrappers and beer cans discarded by tourists and locals alike. By the end Colette and I had collected a bag full of other people´s waste.We spent two days on top, the highlight being the amazing vie
w once the clouds had cleared.
w once the clouds had cleared.We were shattered by the end of it, and a bit damp & battered, but it was well worth the effort. On the evening of our return to Santa Elena, we took the bus back to Cuidad Bolivar and planned our next stop; Merida.
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