The Blessing Of Joy & The Burden Of Pain

One of the most profound moments in my life, was the few seconds my brother was falling. This moment of eternity impacted my life in ways I could understand and ways that I might not ever know. My heart sank and I felt like I had no insides, when he fell from the top of the third story tower. Not only did I think he was dead before he hit the ground, I thought I had killed him!

I was concentrating so hard on what he was telling me to do. Pull the lever, but not all the way. It was stiff, and I thought my arm was weak. But when the handle suddenly clicked, I froze as the bundled rope at my feet disappeared through the device, like a snake on speed.

Loosing the rope between my hands seemed to happen in sonic speed. What followed was slow motion as he fell about 9metres onto concrete. It was like watching an old motion picture, time-lapsed black & white snapshots, was this really happening?

I can't recall any memory of disconnecting from my safety position, as it felt like he was at my fingertips before he touched the ground. At the last moment he leant to the right, and looked down fearfully at the impact that was inevitable. The majority of the force focused on 10cm of his right wrist & forearm. A compound break that made his hand flop, completely disconnected from his arm except for the skin that held it together.

His first words to me were "Its not your fault". A selfless and interesting choice of words after experiencing intense pain, and words that fell on deaf ears for a little sister in shock. There was already a flood of tears pouring out of my eyes, my soul screaming in pain. It seems bizarre but my mind continued to tell me he was dead.

Two firemen came running towards us. The ultimate test to perform under pressure. Their boss' son injured, a wandering bystander dazed & helpless, and a 12yr old girl screaming, crying and in complete shock. Time stood still as I viewed the event from within a bubble. There was me and adam, and everyone else were only in my periphial vision. I vaguely observe the firemen attempting to tend to Adam's injury and being firmly rejected. My heart continued to feel heavier and heavier, my face still drenched in tears as my young mind still believed my brother was not alive, even if it was obvious that he was. How could he be? A fall that far and survive? Like a surreal dream, pinching yourself to make sure its real, I'm eager to hold him, to feel he's alive and ok.

By now the ambulance is on its way and Dad overhears the call on the radio. He drives instantly to where we are, assuming the worst. Im asked to ride with Dad, but I refuse and beg to go with Adam in the ambulance. The tears flow and I'm slowly calmed down by big brother (in extreme pain) who still effortlessly finds the strength to reassure me.

Causing pain on someone you love, is very painful in itself. I remember praying then, and many years after, that if anything bad were to happen to anyone in my family, please god, let it be me.
So the story goes on that Adam and Dad flew to Singapore in a medical evacuation. He was lucky to receive the best treatment. His wrist was broken in five places, but the doctors put him back together and soon after, sent him home.

The shock I felt on that day was profound. I constantly had to be reassured by my bro that he was OK! "Does your wrist still hurt?" ... a question being asked daily, and one that I jokingly still ask, a decade later.

I no longer pray that I be the one to get hurt, maybe because I eventually experienced intense pain myself. I realise that, between people who love each other, pain felt by one is pain felt by all. So its much better to pray for health & happiness, and appreciate the fact that we have each other, to share the blessing of joy & the burden of pain.

New Beginnings

To those few of you who have read and loved my epic stories during my travels, sorry to have not yet filled you in on the last months of adventure, and to those of you who hate group emails and have managed to read this far, you will be pleased to know this is the last of my stories in this chapter of the Life of me!

I left Columbia on a sail boat bound for Panama. Along the way we were lucky enough to spend time in the San Blas islands. They were everything you could imagine for islands in the Caribbean. Aqua blue water, big fat orange star fish, white sand, fish & sharks, swimming at night in the glowing plankton, and one massive tiger stingray that sped up just below the surface, then popped up out of the water and glided mid air for what seemed like eternity. We anchored the boat a couple hundred metres from a small sand island. It had 6 palm trees on it, the smallest i've ever seen. I named it Chook Island, after the picture of the place my mum imagines she could be when she wants to relax. So I decided to spend a night there in my hammock. After my experience in Brazil, i managed to overcome the fear much more quickly. I was more worried about the distant thunder and what the hell I was going to do if it came my way. The skies cleared and I spent the night stargazing at northern hemisphere constellations... and the morning sunrise kept me in my hammock until finally it became too warm to continue being a lazy bum.

After my boat trip I spent some time in Panama city. Previously knowing only what footage was shown in the movie Team America, I found that it had a lot more to it! Getting comfortable in the hostel, formed another traveller-family of a couple of aussie bums, couple of poms, an irish and me. Family dinners, texas hold-em poker, drinking all the boys under the table and a few too many visits to the many Panama City casinos!! I spent one night without a cent in my pocket, seeing the city from a very different perspective. Jumping on a local bus going anywhere, asking the driver if I could ride for free, then jumping off and changing buses willy nilly. One part of town I ended up in (about sunrise) had beautiful old houses, painted bright colours, but had faded with age, giving it a warm vintage feel, like I'd been blasted back in time. The buses I rode were a spectacle themselves. Old American school buses, turned into moving art. Detailed with beautiful graffiti, cartoons, or tattoo-like pictures, always female named and some were dressed up with curtains, and lights brighter then Vegas. No camera that night, but good memories of the streets of Panama city.

Enough bumming around, and missing the family, I decided to head in the direction of home... which meant NYC first. I was so over excited to see this city I had heard so much about, that when I got to JFK and was at the customs desk, I was a little to anxious. (After singing the Team America song in my head the whole flight) When the bloke in the customs cubicle started asking questions in his strong brooklyn accent, I burst out laughing. Trust me when I say, that I DO know that its not the place to fall into a laughing fit. I giggled so damn much I was embarrassing myself. I was trying to hold my mouth but it was too late. He assumed I was 'on' something, but when he asked why i was so happy, I just replied "Im just happy to be here". I managed to get a high-five out of the man, and on my way. My plan was to surprise my friend Osmany, on his doorstep in Brooklyn, but all I had from him was his address. So off I went on my 4-hour subway journey, with the help of many funny New Yorkers. One black guy who was helping me said in his home-boy talk "Oh girl, your man invites you to his crib and he don't give you no crossroad?... if you my girl, i'd look after you ight!". Also got help from NYPD, putting a call out on their radio to find the exact address for me, it was like being in a movie, everywhere I looked I had de-ja-vu. So I spent 3 weeks in NYC having good times with my friends.... Riding bikes through Prospect park and down times square in peak hour, chilling out on a grass patch on a rooftop looking at the tops of manhattan, driving a porshe 110m/hour in upstate NY, getting lost in central park, exploring NY subways and streets, always finding some live music around the corner. This city was something else. Huge mix of culture, an entertaining range of NYC accents, things to do everywhere, an endless amount of places to see, and the people are so kind and love to talk to strangers! I even got to ask for directions in ENGLISH... and also received directions in spanish! Definitely another place I could find myself living.

Finally out of money and deciding to come home. My last few days were intense, trying to see just that extra bit, and the feelings resembled my last few days before my trip started. Excited, scared, nervous, not knowing what was going to happen, and what home was going to be like. I flew Emirates from NY to Dubai. Had a few interesting conversations with people curious about the world of backpacking.... yes, females do travel independently, yes, there are people in south america and you can interact with them, and no, I'm traveling with my money, not daddy's. Dubai airport was cool, it was like the alien airport in Men in Black. Everyone seemed to come from different worlds, and everyone going to different places. It really felt like the centre of the world right there, watching all the people go by on their own journey's.

This whole year I feel like I've been suspended in time. Something I clearly remember asking for. Being neither here nor there has its many benefits as well as challenges. I started this trip with high expectations... to do everything, see everything, meet everyone, know everything, find ultimate truth... and find myself somewhere in between. I certainly didn't fully achieve any of the criteria, but I did manage to find some patience in me, to realise, we are not supposed to know all the answers. The feeling of discovery is the/my essence of life. Where would we be without discovery? If we all knew everything and we all knew the ultimate truth, what would we have left to look for? The ultimate discovery IS discovery itself. Thats why the universe is the way it is, an infinite amount of information & wisdom, so we never stop asking, never stop thriving, never stop feeling, never stop learning. The dangling carrot, the constant desire to find truth, is what drives us to continue to discover things about us and the world around us.

I've been back home a week now and feeling a little disorientated. Everything looks the same, but it feels like its all changed. Still, in a state of limbo, I find myself closing a chapter in my life and a new one beginning. Im in the process of accepting and letting go of things that will hold me down, and holding onto the good experiences and lessons that have made me, me.

To the people I have been fortunate enough to share experiences with when our journey's collided... "hiGH fiVE!"

Columbia... Crazy Beautiful

Im sitting here in Cartegena, on the coast of Colombia and have my last two days in this crazy beautiful country…

my time here started with a flight to Bogota, over the top of the Guerilla jungles from the border town of Leticia in the heart of the Amazon… a quite well off town with its primary industry being the drug trade, but safe none the less…

so sad to leave the jungle but excited to see what Columbia had in store for me. The capital is a huge city dominated by university students, with a strong art culture, exhibitions, the Botero museum and loads of places for coffee and music! I didnt spend enough time there, but Bogota is definately a city i would opt to live if I was studying or working...

so avoiding the cold, I again headed for the coast. Santa Marta is a cosy little beach town on the caribbean coast… first time wooooooo!! I stayed at a great shit hole of a hostel which i loved. Had some great company with drinks and didge-guitar jams on the concrete half built rooftop overlooking the surrounding buildings. This area has the best storms and weather, from our rooftop we just watch the bolts of lightning shoot across the orange-grey night sky glowing from the town´s lights. It rains but we dont move an inch... its hot and humid, and the warm rain is welcomed with my rain dance!

Next stop was a trip to Tyrona Nacional Park. Awesome area of jungle and beaches. Despite the meals being more expensive and banana-up-their-bum staff, the company I had and the beaches, were totally worth it. By now a group of us had accumulated. 1 over the top funny alpha-male german, 2 dopey irish, 2 goregous english girls, 2 O-C Californians, and me and me didge. We all stayed in a big hut that sat ontop a hill in between two small beaches. One central pole, with our hammocks strung around in a circle. Each afternoon we had dramatic thunderstorm entertainment, which made us buzz with excitement. One night we had a massive thunderstorm where some of us thought we might actually be in trouble and I was soaked from head to toe in my hammock cacoon from the side ways rain. But when the storm calmed, we were sad to see it go! So days and days on the hot sand, the aqua blue warm water, loads of card games of ´presidents and assholes´, horse rides through the jungle, and a caribbean tan.

A bus to Cartegena with the group reforming, we have a great last few days together. After a long time travelling solo or as a pair, I have really enjoyed having a big group of us looking out for each other and having a blast... these guys have been like a family! We spent one quiet night out where i ran off to organise our transportation and came back with 6 motorbikes (moto-taxis) and we roared around town like a pack of harleys... only it was 100cc´s and scooters!... We still felt tough like :).. Last night we stepped it up a notch, and organised a romantic trip around town in a horse and cart for all 6 of us. So drinking and antics, we spent a couple hours cruising around town... another place I could live. Old town surrounded by a fortress wall, narrow streets, trees and vines, and vibrant buildings of all different contrasting colours. The place holds a warm atmosphere even when the streets are dead empty. The rest of the night was spent dancing on bars in the quiet discotecas, eating the street kebabs ontop of taxis, and the unfortunate event of our boy james loosing his camera to a pickpocketer. There is such a fine line between people genuinely talking to you, and when they want something from you. My rule of thumb has been to always assume the worst when people approach me. Which is unfortunate, but I feel like if I had any other attitude, I would probably be bulldozed over! It was really sad to see James loose his camera. He is the true example of the turtle traveller theory, sold all, packed up and his life is on his back… we had the police on scooters riding around the area, but no point cause these guys are artists!

My time in south america has had a lot different effects on me then i first thought, and even what a thought during my changes. I guess i was kind of expecting to become more compassionate, more open minded, and be able to connect with people of all characters or cultures. But i guess what happened was a bit opposite. For a while there I bécame really close-minded, and a lot more thickskinned and guarded. Many people rip you off, try to take advantage, and the big majority of people who approach you, want something out of you, whether its obvious or not. My problem was, I was letting these people shape my views of the culture and the countrys. But thats not cricket! I now believe that your perception of places, cultures and countries, should be shaped by the good people you meet. Yes there´s bad, and yes you have to be protective of your space and who´s in it, but its possible to accept the bad. Everyone has choices, but I constantly think about life from their eyes. They have to steal to live, but how would they really feel? They manipulate and lye and hurt others, but what happens when they judge themselves (which we all do, whether its throughout your life or down to the moment you die). When I think of the bad people Ive met along the way, I still remember that everyone has a good nature, and respect that everyone is at different stages of their own development.

To all the good people already in my life, to all the good people I´ve met on my trip and will continue to meet, I wouldnt care if I had to deal with 1000 bad people for every 1 of you, it would still be worth it.

At home in the jungle and giving roosters therapy

Here I am, in Iquitos, the largest city in the world that cannot be accessed by road. Its hot and stinky and I have a headache from all the moto-taxis buzzing around. But it's a jungle city and fabulous!!! I arrived here a few days ago on a grand old boat called La Miluska (similar to Pinky´s nightmare), armed with my two didgeridoo´s, two bags, a pet turtle called Esperenza and missing the tip of my thumb!


But the journey starts in the Andes of Equador. My bus from Quito was long but with beautiful views of the mountains, and gradually descending past waterfalls cascading down to the jungle below. The hills became slopey then flat, and there I was, home in the jungle! From the town of Coca, I got a long one day boat trip to the border town of Nuevo Rocafuerta. Having the old Senora´s laughing at my dreadlocks, being forced to share my chocolate with the couple of kids that had perfected the ´puppy dog eyes and jumping off the boat a couple times for a dip in the Rio Napo. The sunset on the river gave me that warm and fuzzy feeling, and I definitely felt in my element.


In Nuevo Rocafuerta I fortunately made friends with the only other gringoes in town, and together we formed a group to do a bit of a jungle tour. So in our canoe we set off down the side rivers, in the calm of the jungle, sitting on the front the whole time soaking up the piranha atmosphere! Picturing myself as the squirell in ICEAGE2. On one day I caught a little croc with my bare hands, the experience from brazil definitely helped, I shocked the guide, don't think he see´s many tourists going for crocs like that. Another day I ate a witchedy grub alive… my inspiration coming from always wanting to go on ´Fear Factor´. Its harder then it looks!


So after a week around this area, and beginning to become quietly frustrated with the expert New Yorker and her Equadorian (top dog) guide/lover, I found refuge in another dopey australian who showed up. He is a good laugh, rough as nuts and couldn't take any shit from anyone (especially americans). So after crossing the border to Pantoja (peru) as a group, there were two big boats heading for Iquitos, we went our separate ways, and the aussies opted for the big green floating bog known as La Miluska. It turned out to be the best choice in the end. It was a humble 3storey boat. Cows, chickens, and screaching pigs on the lower level, humans, monkeys, turtles and chickens on middle level, along with the kitchen & toilets (basically the same room), and a breezy top deck with a bar, more families in hammocks, chickens and the roosters, one of which I had to have deep and meaningfuls with, explaining to him that he didn't have to crow just because the others did. I managed to only save one turtle who became Esperenza (Hope) but all the rest became turtle soup. The most part of my trip was tranquila, laid back in my hammock, cruising down the river listening to rio napo blues, by Rohan on his guitar and being lazy watching the sun stretch across the sky. The boat would stop every 5 minutes to pick up more people and more bloody bananas that you can poke a stick at. The houses & people by the river were beautiful and the boat stopping was the biggest event of the month, so the whole villiage would turn out. All was well until the last night, being closer to Iquitos the boat had become extremely packed, and I only lost my patience then, when the little boy next to Rohan, was sitting in a pile of his on piss and shit, but the mother and sister did no more then prepare their boiled eggs next to him. Poor little bugger. So by now Rohan was practically dry-reaching in disgust, looking like he could climb a rope out of there with both hands and feet tied. We spent that night stopping children and women peeing on the floor next to us and our bags and we were relieved to make it to Iquitos the next afternoon. Getting off the boat though, Rohan lost his wallet to a team of pickpocketers, but no serious damage done. All up, a pretty good trip, and we are both still in one piece, except my thumb of course (lost the tip to cutting lemons on the boat…it´ll grow back).


So just a couple days here exploring the city, and the slums that they say are the Peruvian version of Venice, only, I don't think they have dunnies in the canals of Venice and swim, wash & cook next to them do they?


You will be happy to know, that Esperenza the tortise now has a happy home with other tortises at the Pilpinwasi Butterfly Farm. Be sure to visit her if you head this way. But beware of the trained pickpocket monkey that they rescued from street kids… he knows how to open everything: buttons, zips, clips, and he even checks your bra!!!


So I´m off to Colombia tomorrow, and onto see a bit of central america… not sure the subject of the next episode…


lots of love always!

80's NIKE ankle sneakers

I left Cusco finally, to see some more of Peru, and Ecuador. So on the road again… with my didgeridoo teacher, Alex, who decided to join me. First we headed for Lima for a few days with Alex´s family, and then onto the northern Peru beaches. Here I finally got rid of my cusco cough, and got healthy again in the sunshine and warm rain! Swam in the Pacific ocean and was imagining Australia on the other side. We then headed across the border to Equador, where I could close my eyes and swear I was in indo, just from the sounds and the smell. Finally arrived in Montanitas beach, which was warm, but being wet season, the town was all mud, and a heavy cloud stretched across the whole sky. At no point did I know where the sun was, but had a relaxing time there and some drama too. My didgeridoo man, with a few kangaroo´s short in the top paddock, tried to sneak his way into my heart… and my wallet. I always was aware about the possibility of him being a brichero (south American boys that hunt gringas (foreign girls) so they can have full belly´s, fun and travel for free).And having none of that, gave him the boot, and decided to go it solo again.

Feeling a lot better and free of drama, met some Spanish boys who thought I could surf… why does everyone always think australian´s can surf??... I accepted their request for me to teach them and so we had half a day in the surf where they looked to me for leadership. caught my first proper wave that day… didn't tell them that… and the big waves scared the shit out of me on the board!!Had a good time though.

So after a few days to myself in a beautiful hut by the beach, I headed to Riobamba. Determined to do something productive, I organised a mountain climb. Its expensive to get a good & experienced mountaineer guide, but I thought my first ice climb should be worth that. The first night we camped closer to Chimborazo (the highest peak in Equador)… froze my tits off and got no sleep for the 3am start. I had my doubts for spending so much money on one day, but at 4am when we drove over the hill that revealed mount Carihuairazo to me, I knew it was meant to be. With the full moon lighting up everything with a glow, the mountain was alive with energy. Hovering closely above it sat my favourite constellation, Orions belt, with the three stars perfectly in between the two peaks. We started the long hike through the shrub and passing alongside lagoons. We had our head torch´s on and the moon lit up the landscape around me…everything covered in a thin layer of ice. At sunrise we made our first steps on snow, and that crunch is surely the sound of bliss… is it not? We continued trekking through patches of snow, until we were surrounded by white… and at the base of the mountain looking up at our route to the summit. It looked really far and hard, but ended up being easier than I thought. Crampons on for the first time, ice ax in hand, prayers to Pachamama and we were off. We hiked the majority of the slope pretty quickly and came to the base of a steep wall of snow to the top. Feet walking sideways and going straight up, I was already aching all over, and then it got steeper. So facing the wall, I walked with the front of my feet, holding on to the ice ax etched into the wall with my right hand, and my left arm just hugging it. I had bursts of energy where I just seemed to run up, and then rests where I was just glued to the wall, breathing and relaxing. I did my final vertical rocky run to the top, and once there, just lied flat in the snow, ice ax still dug in, and holding on with both hands… soaking up the feeling of my first ice climb… and realizing why I´ve always wanted to climb. Had a moment on the top, tied a red scarf to a rock, and learnt how climbers go down! Now I used to think that you go down backwards, like you would on a ladder. But I soon found that its more like bungy jumping. Having trust in my feet, the crampons, the rope attaching me to my guide behind me and the mountain, I ran face first down the wall I just came from. It was so scary… and exhilarating! I was laughing the whole way, just from the adrenaline rush, and was disappointed to hit the smaller slopes. But my ankles ached from what I put them through… so the hike all the way back was a punish! I wish I could do that ice climb every day… I hope I have more opportunities to do the same in the future. So my first time… Mt Carihuairazo 5120m.

More importantly, and my best moment in south America so far… was when I got back to riobamba yesterday arvo. I crossed the street with a small old man who couldn´t see. Hand in hand, we crossed the street together at centipede speed, me being a tall blonde foreigner and him, a small small equadorian in his brimmed hat, baggy old suit, and 80´s nike ankle sneakers… Im not sure if its cause he couldn´t see me clearly or maybe he was just not prejudice, because he didn´t have judgement of me (that I´m used to as a gringa)… and on the other side his smile was so genuine & kind, I will never forget it. Mum thinks he was probably thinking ¨that's the tallest equadorian ive ever seen¨.

Through The Eyes Of My Inner Child

I've been back in cuzco for two weeks now and have settled back into my loki home. With my loft bedroom and a window that looks out to the stars... I've fallen in love again, and in more ways then one.

Last week I had one of the most amazing experiences. I took part in a humble spiritual ceremony in the mountains around saqusayhuaman (inca ruins). The shayman (spiritual healer) called Wyra, was a beautiful man with big bubbly cheeks and a smile that spread all over his face... and all over the world! We drank san pedro, a medicene used from times before the incas, and thought about our lives, our connection to Pachamama (mother earth), and each of us thought about what we wanted to ask for. I was there with two good friends, emma and osmany. But the experience as a whole was very personal. I asked for two things: to see the world through the eyes of my inner child, and for the protection of my family, friends and me. The first time I 'got it', I was walking up a steep hill, turned around to see the others, and all I saw was sparkling blue trees. At this point I thought I was hallucinating, but after a quick confirmation with em, the trees were naturally blue, cause they were eucalyptus! From then on, I saw the beauty in absolutely everything. My senses were heightened, and the touch, smell, sound, taste & sight of everything seemed rythmic & pure. The difference in perception is hard to describe, because the feeling stays with you, not just on the day. What I felt was something that I have always had in me, but it came to the surface, clear and uncensored. My favourite events of the day were: Emma processing & accepting a lot of intense feelings, and us sending love in the direction of someone she cares a lot about. The amazing rock I found, with endless shapes of faces, animals & landscapes and the how the lines of the rock matched the lines of my hands, perfectly. Discovering my nickname in Quechua, Wymie K,uychi... rainbow child. Being amuzed for hours with the colours of Wyra's hat and naming the tassle ChuFly. Walking hand-in-hand down the mountain with Osmany, and inventing the game tandem-mountain-walking. Making sure Emma was holding onto 'her piece of me' and our endless argument of who's visiting who.

Ultimately, I got to see the world through the eyes of my inner child... and that's something I will never loose. The change I feel in my heart is a cup full!... I have an unconditional acceptance of previous pain in my life, and the bad in the world around me, but also the fact that I can make a possitive change... By my family and friends knowing how I appreciate, love and learn from them, by my kindness, smiles & laughter with strangers, and by living my dream.

So, recharged, and ready to go, I meant to leave cuzco today. Until three days ago I discovered the didgeredoo. Its something that I've always wanted to learn, and now, here in Peru, the person teaching me is a peruvian dude, obsessed with Australian Aboriginal culture, and seems to know more about Australia then I do. He is a great teacher and I have a new found passion to learn... even though I'm musically retarded. I can do circular breathing slowly, make a kookaburra sound, and something that sounds like a donkey... step aside Xavier Rudd!! We have been playing overlooking the city, and also in the main plaza where the street kids swamp us.... intrigued with the deep smooth sound coming from this strange foreign object. My first didge isn't painted yet, but its wrapped in a purple peruvian blanket made by a cute old lady from the local market.... I now have my new travel companion...(The didge, not the lady)... :)

Sending you all a smile via butterfly-effect-mail......

Todos Possible, Nada Seguro!!!

To be blunt, this entry wont be as exciting as my last ones. I am sitting in a town called Uyuni, Bolivia. The best thing to ever come out of this town is the road! I´m talking to dad on msn and just hearing from him, made my eyes water. So I was telling myself ¨fluffy kittens fluffy kittens¨ to try and be calm, but to the amusement of Emma beside me and myself, I started crying-laughing. I have had heightened emotions at the moment and have been in a cold environment for over a month now, and I HATE the cold. People think travelling is easy, and not working would be the best thing in the world. But, it is hard not having an everyday purpose, especially when I'm such a dreamer with my career, and all the things I want to accomplish. And so the burden of homesickness has been getting stronger, and word from home makes me smile & keep going (hint hint).



And so, there have been good times too… we have seen great places, and the images will stay in my mind forever. We first arrived in Bolivia in Copacabana, home of the highest lake in the world, Titicaca. Absolutely freezing, we hiked across the hills of Isle de Sol, and got stoned with some funny Americans overlooking aymara ruins and talking to llamas. The next morning having a cosy breakfast with my best friend Em, overlooking the lake from the top of the island, our minds struggling with bitter sweet emotions from seeing the most beautiful places, and also being treated badly as travellers from many lying Bolivians! La Paz was good to see again, finding more secret places to eat & drink red wine. Spent some time with my adopted Bolivian family, and played ¨beach¨ volleyball surrounded by snow capped mountains. I tried my best to tell them they can't call it BEACH volleyball, but because it was on sand, apparently that counted.



So leaving La Paz, we thought it would be best to fork out the extra cash for the best tourist bus. But unfortunately, it was not worth it. 4am in the morning, we woke up to the sound of a spinning tyre. We were bogged. I put on as many clothes as possible and jumped out of the bus to be blasted by the cold winter of a desert in the middle of nowhere, in this bitter sweet country! Usually I can become that bit warmer just from star gazing, but because I was freezing my tits off, all that came out was tyrrets sounds. The bus driver lit grass fires, for light and warmth, and began digging out the soft sand underneath the tyre. The bus was lodged in a dip with its arse on one side and the headlights on the other. The novelty for me lasted about 20minutes. Emma and I, with some being-bogged experience tried our best to help digging, collect rocks and give suggestions… but the Bolivian men were not about to listen to two gringas (female tourists), now or ever. So hugging each other and wishing our dads were there to fix it, we gave up and got back into the warm cabin. The sun came up… and 100 Bolivians, 3 4WD´s, 2 trucks, 2 local buses, 1 farm tracker and 5 hours later, we were towed out.



So we made it to the town of Uyuni, to find our adventure in the Salt Flats and mountains, famous to this region. We chose a tour of 3 days, to see all the sights, and to be driven around in a land cruiser 4WD. There were Israelis on the list, so I requested that me and Emma be put in their group. Good or bad decision, I'm still deciding… but we had an awesome time seeing these amazing places: the huge salt flats, driving through the mountains, blue lakes & pink flamingos, hills that looked like my mum had painted them (and me bursting into tears thinking of her), striking blue-orange sunsets, riding through a mud brick town drunk on a bike that had no breaks, the fruitless search for san pedro cactus (for natural hallucinations!), teaching the german card game Uka to Israelis, singing ¨every sperm is sacred¨ for an hour with a funny Englishman who looked like side-show-bob, chasing the baby llama that was wearing my red scarf, relaxing in hot springs at 4300m with red hills blue skies, and a big moon around us, and me refusing to pay 1boliviana to pee in a toilet, fed up with how in-humane it is (but giving in eventually). So that kind of sums up our trip to the salt flats, and the images will stand out as some of the most amazing things my eyes have ever seen.

Today we leave for Sucre, in search of Che Guevara´s last steps. So until next time: ¨Todos Possible, Nada Seguro¨ (All is possible, Nothing for sure)