EXPLORING: Back to Bolivia and the Death Train

Whiz stop tour through the Pantanal

Now in Porto Murtinho, Brazil we needed to get to Carumbá where we would cross into Bolivia, and the way to get there was by bus and fortunately there was a bus that evening that would take us there over night. Having the bikes with us of course added a whole new dynamic but thank heavens we had Veronica with us because with her help we managed to get the bikes on for only a minimal extra charge. One of the most popular tourist destinations in Brazil is Bonita where you can swim in crystal clear lakes surrounded by tropical fish and enjoy some beautiful hikes through the Pantanal so Veronica and Marko had decided to stop off there along the way. Andy and I had considered going to Bonita too but as we were in Brazil all the tours were pricey and as it is a regulated area you cannot do anything there unless it is with a tour operator so we decided against it. In the middle of the night we had to change buses with a 3 hour lay over but then when the bus arrived there was no space for our bicycles so Veronica quickly jumped to our rescue and informed them that they better make a plan for us to take our bikes as we had already paid. Luckily Veronica's demands worked and the bus driver returned shortly with a bigger bus that had space for a our bikes, thank heavens for Veronica's Portuguese otherwise we may still be stuck in some random town in Brazil trying to say zzz this and zzz that.

Now on the second bus it was day break before we dropped off Veronica and Marko in Bonita, then from there the drive through the Panatanal was magnificent. The road was dirt all the way so pretty painful but slow enough to enjoy the scenery, every now and again crossing a single track precarious looking wooden bridge crossing crystal clear streams. Eventually, a few wild life spottings and a lot of hours later than promised we arrived in Carumbá. Once our bicycles were off loaded we made a bee-line for the border with Bolivia which was quite far out of town and by the time we got there there was already a huge queue. Again with a strike of luck while I was trying to work out what was going on a door opened up nearby us out of which an official popped and said we start queuing there too, to the ire of the other people that were already standing in the other queue. The Brazilian border had been closed for 4 hours and was now just reopening so I was a little apprehensive about the fact had just jumped the queue but we had technically not even left Paraguay yet and were now wanting to exit Brazil so I really didn't want to stand in really long queue only be turned away at the window. However, when we got to the immigrations window the guy didn't seem to care at all, once I had explained my story he just stamped us both into Brazil and then stamped us out again. Technically though we will never have left Paraguay!

We were now finally at the border with Quajirro, Bolivia but I was even more concerned about this border as I had no money on me to pay for the visa which South African's have to pay for to get into Bolivia, and I really didn't want to have to cycle all the way back to Corumbá to withdraw it. The people at immigration were incredibly friendly and were quite amazed when they looked at their list and saw that we were required to have a visa but nonetheless we had to have one. It cost $50 but this pales in comparison to the $150 the USA tourists have to pay so we just got on with worrying about how we were going to pay for it but this too was quickly put to rest when the lady said  we could just go on 4 blocks into town where we would find an ATM. I was like hmm why am I bothering to get this stupid pricey visa if I can just wonder in and draw money and no one even bats an eyelid! I really was tempted to just get on my bike and cycle on without the visa but I didn't really want to get arrested and have to go crawling back to the very same South African embassy that had been so kind to us earlier on in our trip.

Now legally in Bolivia we made our way to the train station where we were to book tickets to Santa Cruza on the infamous 'Tren de la muerte' or Death Train. We were again in luck again and as we got there they opened up the ticket office however the train that could take our bikes too only left the next day so we would need to spend the night in Quijarro. We had seen a sign to the Hostels International hostel just back down the road so we decided to go check it out and as it turns out it is absolutely awesome! I ended up being thrilled that we had to spend a night there, it had a huge big blue swimming pool over looking the Pantanal with hammocks hanging everywhere. After checking in we went and looked for some lunch and found a road side stall selling delicious kebabs for only $1.20 each. I looked back in the guide book and it described Quijarro as no more than a 'grouping of shacks' and that one should rather stay in Carumbá. I was amazed that it could be talking about Quijarro because my experience was very much the opposite as it was a nice little town with ATMs, lots of little street vendors and at least one beautiful hostel 3 times cheaper and far more awesome than I'm sure you could find in Carumbá, what more could you ask for from a border town so again I was pleased I had ignored the stupid 'South America on a shoestring' or more aptly referred to 'South America on a golden lace' guide book.

Tren de la muerta

The next day we were off to Santa Cruz aboard the 'Tren de la muerte'. Now I was expecting a bun fight to get a seat and then even once secured it would be terribly uncomfortable but instead it was the total opposite, just before the train was due to depart just about every gringo in the region had gathered on the stairs of the train station including all our friends from the donkey boat, even Victoria and Marko who had already enjoyed a day in Bonita. The cargo guys were very professional, weighing our bikes and bags leaving us with tags and receipts while they loaded them into the cargo area for a small fee allowing us to board the train in peace of mind and luggage free. Aboard the train we found our seats quickly and with no hassle, no one was sitting in them and they were quite comfy indeed. It was going to be an over night train arriving at some hour in the morning so although the seats weren't quite lie-flat seats they were comfy enough. I was very excited for my premier train journey on the South American continent, even if it is dubbed the 'Tren de la muerte'.

Just when I thought things were perfect the man came through with the remote turning on all the tvs, hmm I thought to myself perhaps a movie. Oh no but first rather how about a local lady dancing through a field singing a really bad song with the same tune as every other song in Bolivia in the background? The last time I was in Bolivia this music had driven me mad whether it was on a bus or at a festival, yet somehow now understanding a few more of the words it just became hilarious and reminded me of the good times we had had. After the terrible music stopped a movie started and I soon dozed off to the swaying of the train. There are various reasons why the 'Tren de la muerte' got its dubious name and one of them includes that it often derailed in the 80's due to the uneven tracks causing it to sway from side to side which I can quite believe and the other because many workers died while constructing the line due to all the diseases carried by the mosquitoes which I can also believe.

Although at some hour in the middle of the night I did wake-up because I was literally being thrown from one side of my seat to the other, the guide book describes the journey as 'bone grinding to the point that you will want to throw yourself onto the track', which I find is quite an unnecessary exaggeration. The trains are on shocks and springs so if anything it is quite soothing even if you are being bounced from side to side and up and down in your seat, and then even that only lasts for 5 minutes at a time before you fall soundly back to sleep. Having had a great nights sleep and some beautiful scenery along the way we pulled into Santa Cruz. Our bags and bikes were quickly turfed out onto the platform where we could collect them but not without our trusty ticket stub! Andy and I quickly loaded up our bikes and off we headed to the Hostel International hostel we had booked in advance where we were again greeted by a beautiful blue swimming pool!

Santa Cruz

Santa Cruz is a very green, warm and topical city with lots to do in and around it but I wanted Andy to see the incredibly unique city of La Paz and at least Salar de Uyuni which I had seen when we were in Bolivia 6 months prior so I sent him off all on his lonesome. At first he was not too excited by the idea but he soon came round to it and off he went. I wanted to stay in Santa Cruz and practice some Spanish so I went about looking for a homestay and came across an incredibly generous and well connected lady by the name of Charis. Besides her ex-pat and professional translation services which she has built, and is ever building, a fantastic website about Bolivia, www.boliviabella.com, which I highly recommend a browse through.

Charis was the perfect friend to have made in Santa Cruz as not only was she able to organise for me to stay with Nena her friend but she also offered to store our bikes and our bags at her place while we gallivanted around the city and country. Charis herself is just so kind, fun and interesting to talk to, she was born in the US but had spent most of her life growing up in Bolivia, much of it in La Paz, and can thus obviously speak Spanish and English perfectly! Her adorable 6 year old son, Kristoffer, has too had the same privileged having now lived between Bolivia and the US. It is just too fascinating to watch them interact switching back and forth between Spanish and English making me just go green with envy! I ended up spending most of my time in Sant Cruza either with Nena and her family at the house and around the city or over at Charis's house having lunch, dinner and the most delicious cake ever which she home bakes herself!

Santa Cruz is made up of ring roads radiating outward with radial roads crossing them and as with all Bolivian cities it has a great, although rickety, minibus system getting you anywhere for under $0.20 and if you go exclusive and get a private taxi that will only cost you around $2! Nena's house is just outside the 4th anillo (ring road) where some of the roads turn to dust looking quite township like in parts however Nena's house was beautiful and perfectly kept, definitely one of the best houses in the neighbourhood. Laura her daughter had kindly vacated her room so I could stay there and it was perfect with a fan, a desk and everything! Nena's sister, husband, their 2 little kids and her 15 year old daughter all live at the house so there were always plenty of people to interact with and strictly no English! Edwardo and her niece, 7 and 2 respectively were just too cute to have around with Edwardo having no patience for my lack of understanding Spanish words looking at me as if to say wow this old dude really is a bit slow, always respectfully referring to me as Usted, which is the formal word for you in Spanish. Edwardo loved my laptop and even taught himself to play Chess! The previous time I was in Bolivia I had been less than enamoured with the food but this time round I have been pleasantly surprised especially by Nena's delicious dinners and lunches, and Charis' mouth watering home made cakes.


Dance-off

I had some great times in Santa Cruz including going to a butterfly sanctuary come water park with Nena but the most memorable of all was going to Nena's friends birthday party. The evening started off tame and early by South American standards, then at around 10pm we all sat down for a big dinner that consisted of more than just pieces of meat being handed around every half an hour as it tended to be the case in Argentina. Now in Bolivia we had rice mixed in with cheese, delicious salads and then of course there was some tasty meat that had been cooked on the open fire but in a big pan more like a stew than a grill.

After dinner the tables were hastily pushed aside and the music revved up but here people are not shy to get out onto the dance floor and no one is required to have polished off half a case of beer before joining in even with florescent lights showing up your every move. Of course the drinks too were flowing though all courtesy of the hosts which was very kind of them. I had been dragged onto the dance floor a number of times but I had not yet had my required quoter of beer to allow for that so I just sat by watching the Cumbá and Salsa dancing going before me. However, eventually the beer did get the better of me and off I was swept onto the dance floor and although everyone dances kind of in one big group everyone has partner so every now and again you can gab on and go into full on dance off! Other than Nena's boss who owned the local Irish pubs and another 2 blokes from Spain everyone was pretty much local so other than the few words I shared with Nena's boss there was no English spoken and everyone was on the dance floor. It turned out to be a great fun evening with me even receiving a few compliments about my attempted Cumbá and Salsa moves, someone queried as to whether I was sure I was not Latino and while I'm sure they were just humouring me it only inspired me to keep pulling the moves!

As the evening grew on, as with all Latino events I have attended I grew tired, but everyone else just seemed to go on and on. Eventually I sat down for a bit and a lady, probably close to twice my age, quickly came and pulled me to my feet saying no no if you do that the tiredness will get you, in a cool Spanish phrase which I now can't rememberer. So the dancing just went on, even when it started to rain on us I was like oh thanks heavens please just come pouring down then we can all have a rest but pah no this just inspired a full on water fight, bare in mind I was probably one of the youngest people there! It was all good fun and after abuelo or granddad had pulled out a few party tricks including balancing a bottle on his head while still pulling his dance moves it was finally time to go home. It was just on 4am, early by Latino standards, when 6 of us piled into a taxi and head off costing us a whopping $2 for the ride!

South American wildlife
I woke up only a couple of hours later to the sound of Linda the dog yelping at something, while I tried to turn over and ignore her it was just making my head pound so I had to go see what it was. A little fluffy white kitten had come into our yard and was being yelped at by Linda but as I walked up to it Linda began to maul it! I was horrified I was like I can't watch this dog eat a kitten so I tried shouting and smacking it but that seemed to have no effect. Linda has short hair so I could pull her off by her skin of her neck only for her to pull loose seconds later again attacking the kitten. Eventually I managed to hang onto her long enough to kick the mauled kitten into my room and close the door. With my heart now racing from the effects of adrenalin combined with alcohol I was feeling exhausted so I just collapsed back down on the bed with the poor kitten cowering underneath it.

Before I could recover and think what to do with the half eaten kitten Nena came to see what the fuss was about and took the kitten put it outside the gate only for it to return 15 minutes later. The stupid kitten had a death wish, now I was fuming because all I  wanted to do was sleep and the stupid dog wouldn't shut up so I got up again and fortunately this time found a piece of hosepipe that I could use to get Linda's attention, wham on her bum yes the sting seemed to have worked and she very quickly returned to her kennel. On closer look the poor kitten was in shock but only had a few scratches and seemed to be ok. This time, in my underwear, I walked it far down the road putting it under tree to recover from where it would hopefully not come strolling back into the yard. I doubt the poor little kitten lasted very long in that neighbourhood but at least I didn't have to watch it get eaten alive.

Tamara comes to town
Andy had been feeling a bit ill when he got to Lap Paz, partially due to the altitude and partially due to the cold we both managed to pick up either at the hostel or on the train down (another reason to stay on the bikes and live in a tent). However, Andy was feeling much better now and was loving the jaw dropping uniqueness of La Paz while getting to grips with life on the gringo trail, which is to just pitch up at a hostel all on your own only to discover you're not the only one in that boat so before you know it you've got a new best friend and your touring the town together. Andy's next stop was Salar de Uyuni where he would be meeting Nick and Tamara to do a 3 day tour together while in the meanwhile Tamara had flown into Santa Cruz to spend a little time with me before heading off to meet meet them in Uyuni. It was great seeing Tamra and so crazy to hear about the horror stories and going on in Santiago during the recent Chilean earthquake, I'm mean really I think it only hits home when you speak to someone effected by it.

Getting from Santa Cruz to Uyuni by bus turned out to be a bit more of a mission than originally thought for Tamara. Although there were direct buses to Uyuni they took more than 24hrs to get there and Tamara was not keen to do that alone so instead she decided to break it up and head to Sucre first which was Nick s living and Andy had headed to  few days prior so from there they could all travel to Uyuni together. As is common place in Bolivia the bus companies lied and Tamara's bus took way longer than promised forcing them all to miss their scheduled bus from Sucre to Uyuni, but then again what can you expect when you're only paying $6 for an all night bus ride down a really bumpy dirt road! This was just the begging of the delays so it was clear Andy was never going to make it back to Santa Cruz in time for us to make our way down to Tarija where we had planed to start our next cycle leg heading for Argentina so it was time to come up with plan B.

Plan B and Tarija

Plan B, Andy would have to give Tarija a skip and I would have to meet him in the border town of Villazón with the bikes, ready for our cycle trip down to Salta, Argetina! Nick had been raving about this section and claimed it was pretty much all down hill from Villazón so by skipping out the bit between Tarija and Villazón we would only be missing out on a very bad dirt raod and some uphill cycling. I would have loved to have done that stretch but in hind sight I don't think my ailing bike would have made it down a bad dirt road. Problem now was though how would I get all of Andy's stuff and 2 bikes to the other end of the country, well I soon discovered that there are courier buses going everywhere from Santa Cruz. It landed up only costing us $8 each to get our bikes and bags all the way to Villazón, why hadn't we done this before! Now with very little luggage to worry about I decided to treat myself to a little flight down to Tarija then go down from there by bus to meet the others in Villazón a few days later.

Tarija is a beautiful little city and I would say anyone visiting Bolivia with enough time should go there. It is cheaper than most other cities in Bolivia, is beautiful, clean and the local restaurants are great. It is pretty much at the same altitude as Johannesburg at 2100m above sea level so the climate is great and it is set in amongst beautiful mountains covered in some of the highest wine producing vineyards in the world, just the perfect place to sit back and enjoy the food and wine with a beautiful background. I decided to do what everyone should do when visiting Tarija and that is take a local wine tour. While the tour wasn't quite at as informative from a wine tasting perspective as those down in Cape Town, South Africa the scenery was beautiful and the surrounding areas packed with history. It too proved a great opportunity to practice my spoken Spanish as I was with in group of Kiwi's new to the continent and the guide knew few words of English so I had a great day playing translator translator while enjoying some rather sweet Bolivian wines.


Death Road
It was about time to meet Tamara, Nick and Andy in Villazón so off I headed to the bus station to catch my over night bus which turned out to be one of the scariest things I have done, coming a close tie to the bus trip down from the Cordillera Blanca in Peru. I had managed to select a front row seat on the top deck so I had the privilege of seeing every bit of 'scenery' along the way. As we headed out of town it was growing dark and the road almost immediately turned to dirt signaling things to come as we headed along the road which would take us up and along the mountains to Villazón. Although the bus ride was only 6hrs long it felt like a lifetime, the road was only a single track with traffic going in both directions so every time we came face to face with another truck or bus one of us had to precariously backup to a point wide enough for both of us to pass. However, the catch is that we were on a crumbling dirt road on a cliff edge with sharp hairpin bends every 500m. Just driving along the dirt road was hair raising enough as the back of the bus felt like it was going to slip off down the cliff every time we took a sharp corner. Eventually I convinced myself it was not worth worrying about unless I planned to get off and walk so I pulled my headband over my eyes and tried to go to sleep. This didn't work for long though because every now and again the bus would come to a screeching halt signaling that either we were too close to an edge or we were the ones that had lost a stare off and that we would then be reversing back up the death defying road. In either case I couldn't resist peaking out from under my head band to the sight of either a cliff face right in font of my eyes as we scraped around a corner or just an abyss of nothingness as the bus tried to edge ever closer to the edge causing my heart to start racing again readying me to grab the emergency hammer just in case I needed to make a hasty escape.


Villazón

The road was beautiful though and had I been on my bike or on foot I would have loved it but in a bus that barely fitted on the road it was hell, yet an experience nonetheless. In hindsight I should have caught the bus to Tarija and then flown from there to Villazón because the road down to Tarija from Santa Cruz is actually fine and tarred most of the way however this cannot be said for the road down to Villazón! We arrived in Villazón at 3am in the morning and I had thought that it was a good idea to get on the bus in a pair of shorts and t-shirt so I was by then absolutely freezing cold, especially given that we were now almost at 4000m above sea level! Villazón is a rather desolate border town so although there are hostels there they certainly don't have a concierge waiting to great passengers at 3am in the morning so after an hour of freezing to death in the street I eventually spotted a place with a light on and got myself a bed.

The rest of the crowd arrived down from Uyuni a few hours later that morning and it was so good to be reunited with Andy, Nick and Tamara again after being 'alone' for almost 2 weeks! We decided to spend that night there together before heading our separate ways, Nick and Tamara back up to Santa Cruz and Andy and I off to Argentina. Although there isn't much to do in Villazón we had a great fun just enjoying each other's company while enjoying cheap beer and good food just across the border in Argentina. I love the way South American borders work because it really is up to you as to whether you want to stroll into the immigration office so if you are only going to cross into another country for a couple of hours there's no need to hassle with the paper work you just cross on over.

Now with just 2 weeks before we flew home I was pretty excited about heading off on our final cycle leg from the border with Bolivia to beautiful Salta, Argentina!

FLOATING: Up the lazy Rio Paraguay!

Keep reading I promise it gets more interesting.. and don't miss the video of Will smacking his head..

Decisions decisions

I had visited Bolivia 6 months prior but it is dirt cheap, relatively close to where we were and I was pretty keen to get Andy to check it out as it is probably the most unique place I have ever visited (besides my own fantastically unique country of course) so I was pretty keen to make it our next destination. I wanted to avoid going by bus at all costs and had Bolivia been any closer we would have cycled there but we now only had 5 weeks left and I wanted Andy to see Bolivia while I spent a week or 2 in one place doing some more advanced Spanish. In addition I wanted allow time for us to cycle down along cliff edges through the Andes from the border of Bolivia down to Salta, Argentina along a section of road many tourers had raved about so having to get a bus to Bolivia to save time was looking more and more likely. Nick had recently cycled the section from Salta up to Bolivia and had lots of good things to say about it so I was pretty set on doing at least that part of the trip making it our last cycle leg before heading back to Buenos Aires in time for our flight home at the end of March. Now desperate for an alternative to a bus I started looking through the guide book I had been carrying around on my bike for 10 months and rarely looked at where I noticed the less explored option of getting to and from Asunión, going by boat. Looking at the map I noticed the Rio Paraguay, a river, winds itself all way down from the Pantanal, up on the border with Bolivia, down to Asunción where we were currently located. I had heard a lot about this Pantanal so I flicked through the pages to the section about the Pantanal where I discover one can one can not only get to the Pantanal by boat from Asunción but also one can get from the Pantanal on the 'Tren de la muerta' or Death Train to Santa Cruz, Bolivia a city I had not yet visited. So, in theory we could get from Asunción to Santa Cruz, Bolivia by boat and train which was perfect!

Two problems though, one was where does one get their exit and entry stamps and two we were not sure if boats regularly go as far up the Rio Paraguay as Quijarro, Bolivia in the Pantanal  where we needed to catch the train from. We went to the Montevideo Playa near Asunción port where most of these boats disembark from to inquire but all they could tell us was that the next boat to Vallemí stopping at Conception was the Cacique II and left on Wednesday at 7am, now almost 2 days away and another had already left on Saturday for Bahía Negra. Bahía Negra is the northern most Paraguayan port along the Rio Paraguay so I thought damn we had missed the boat we needed and would now have to wait almost a week for the next one. But then doing some more research I could not find a way to easily get from Bahía Negra in Paraguay to Quijarro in Bolivia where we would need to catch the train from. So we were left with one other option and that was to get the Cacique II to Vallemí then across to the Brazilian side and make our way up over land to Carumbá, Brazil which is just on the other side of the border from Quijarro, Bolivia. Looking at all the maps at my disposal the only Brazilian port on the Rio Paraguay with a road running from it to Carumbá was Porto Murtinho which is only just up river from Vallemí, Paraguay. Ok so we could on Wednesday go from Asunción to Vallemí arriving there 54hrs later, then we could catch a skiff to Porto Murtinho, Brazil where we could then take the road through the heart of the Brazilian Pantanal to Quijarro, Bolivia crossing the border at Carumbá. So after some more thought and discussion we figured it was the only boat option which gave us any hope of getting to Bolivia any time soon, plus we had heard that one can get their Paraguan exit stamp in Vallemí and an entry stamp to Brazilian in Porto Murtinho.

Extra travel info: Coming from Asunción up the Rio Paraguay the ports go as follows: Asunción, Paraguay; Conception, Paraguay; Vallemí, Praguay; Porto Murtinho, Brazil; Fuerte Olimpo, Paraguay; Bahía Negra, Paraguy; Puerto Suárez, Bolivia.

The Cacique II going to Vallemí left in 2 days time at 7am which would be too early for us to get from Luque to Montevideo Playa by bicycle so we asked Sergio if would could stay an extra night at his place and then Tuesday night we would stay in a cheap hostel near the port. I felt super bad to ask if we could stay an extra night as we were using his room and he was staying on a mattress in his mom's room (can't say I'd do that for a perfect stranger but perhaps now I would just don't think my parents want me sleeping on their floor) but Sergio is a pretty straight forward honest guy so we asked if he minded having us an extra night and we were in luck. We were thrilled to be spend another night there, not only did we now have some more time to sit and chat to Sergio and his mom while sipping tereré but we also got eat at the local, Don Corleone, which has great food including my favourite Lomitos packed with streak, veggies and egg enjoyed outdoors amongst the fairy light lit trees. The trip into Asunción the next day was quite pleasant most of the way as there is a cycle track running between Luque and Asunción however it was another hot day, really hot, confirmed by the billboard reading 41 degrees as we cycled into the centre so by the time we found a cheap little hostel right by the port call Hotel Oro (gold) we were drenched in sweat. There was however nothing oro (gold) about Hotel Oro besides its name but we did have air conditioning, a tv without an aerial, an en-suite bathroom and the port was just across the way all for around $7 each so we were chuffed with our find.

Cacique II to Vallemí

Early the next morning we stumble down to the Montevideo Playa on the port where I admittedly either expected to find that the boat was not there or that we would not be allowed on with our bikes but to my surprise, the boat was there, they were quite happy to take our bikes on board and to boot there was a queue of gringos eagerly awaiting its departure, I guess that's what happens we you mention something in the Lonely Planet! There seemed to be 2 passenger areas, one at the back with a whole lot of pew like wooden seats that looked like they would have been better placed in a church and the other a big orange raised area with no chairs near the front where a local lady had already lay her mattress. After sitting on one of the pews for a bout 10 seconds I began to wonder how I would survive 54hrs so I went in search of a better option. I figured we should grab a space in the orange area and worst case scenario we would be asked to move. Andy had bought a very cool lightweight hammock in Asunción for the trip so he hung his hammock over our bags while I blew up my travel mattress and set up a nice little nest next to them. The other gringos followed suit later discovering that there were more hammocks to rent so the area soon became a maze of hammocks, bags and bodies lying all over the place, quite festive indeed.

Most of the gringos had planned to get off at Concepción then head by bus across the rather bone breaking and boring Paraguayan Chaco up towards Bolivia however when I explained to them that I had decoded part of the Lonely Planet and worked out that one may be able to go via the Pantanal to Bolivia a few more decided to join us on the trip all the way up to Vallemí. The boat seemed to be pretty much split down the middle, locals sitting in the pews near the back of the boat and gringos littering the orange area near the the front, bar the one brave local who had made herself quite at home amongst the gringos. The brave local lady was clearly a regular as she had very quickly claimed her spot and brought on everything she needed including a roast chicken in a basket which she kindly plonked down next to my head giving off an aroma that was bound to make me queezy even when not bobbing around on a boat. She had also whipped out her hammock practically criss crossing Andy's and finally she haled someone from inside to bring her a pew from the back so she could alternate between hanging in her hammock and reading her book in the chair, and porque no (why not) I thought.

We set off up the river only half an hour later than planned which was pretty much ahead of schedule by South American standards. Within an hour the port and river side industry had turned to greenery and we had the Rio Paraguay pretty much to ourselves. As we made our way up the the river the scenery didn't change too much just going from big beautiful river lined by bushy greenery to thicker more Amazon tree like greenery with the odd rural village every here and there. It was exactly what I had hoped for, all I wanted to do was sit chill, read, catch up on some blogging and much need sleep with some beautiful scenery going by. I had lucked out too because I had a nice comfy spot protected from the chaos by our bags, with a nice comfy backrest and a plug to keep my laptop, music and headphones running 24/7. When travelling and on the bikes we would normally spend less than 24hrs in aplace before moving on and when on a bus with time to kill its usually useless because you either get car sick or you just to darned uncomfortable to think much but not now I was comfortable and had 56hrs in one place eve if that place was moving itself, felt super healthy and could roll over and have a nap with a light breeze blowing across me whenever I wanted.

About 33hrs after getting on the boat and a great nights sleep we arrived in Conepción. I had hoped that at Conepción the boat would empty out and we'd have it all to ourselves but instead we were greeted by a huge crowd of people waiting on the bank to bring on more cargo and passengers than I could ever have imagined. Within seconds of the boat docking it was chaos with people going all over the place, more tomatoes, bananas, onions, garlic, building material, you name it was coming on and in the passenger areas I was quite happy to see the line between gringos and locals had blurred very quickly. As more locals and regulars climbed on they began to crawl around under the hammocks grabbing every available space including any vacant hammocks. Now with the boat packed I still had my little nest now almost disappearing below all the cargo but I was comfy and happy which is a lot more than what I could say for many of the other passengers. Trying to get to the loo was very entertaining with one having to climb up and over hammocks, through legs, balancing along planks and then push their way though people standing around in the back passenger area, I thought to myself its getting dark and a far as I know Vallemí is 24hrs away so where on earth are all these people planning on sleeping. That night, after a beautiful sunset over western Paraguay, everyone just seemed to push a bag to the side and crawl up on the cold hard floor or just fall asleep in their pew seemingly unperturbed by their discomfort.

The next morning I woke early as the sun began to rise over the eastern Paraguay and everyone on the boat began to stir including the resident chicken that was now taking his morning stroll around the boat. Shortly after dawn we arrived in a little town which judging by the amount of cargo and people getting off at it it probably does not have any roads running in or out of it. Here there too were people on the bank waiting patiently for the boat but this time to greet the goods and people that the boat had come to deliver. This was a normal hour for me to be up but for the English guys still fast asleep in their hammocks it was a little bit early and they were not too pleased to be chased out of them so that the locals could get to some cargo stored below them. Once everyone and their cargo had clambered off we were left with a little more space to enjoy our final day on the boat but I think by now everyone was pretty much ready to get there even if the scenery was becoming evermore lush and tropical.

Having enjoyed 3 days and 2 nights, a number of little villages along the way and now our 3rd sunset we were due to arrive at our destination. We were promised at the start of the trip that we would be in Vallemí before nightfall on the 3rd day but it was now dark so I decided to get an update on the status. The boat was running late and we would only get into port after 10pm so we were offered to spend a night on the boat in the port for free if we liked. The boat was comfy and by now we were just about the only passengers left on the boat so we decided to stay and see if we could find a boat to go on with the next day. During the trip I had questioned a number of locals about going on further up the river than Vallemí and they had all confirmed that there is no way to get to Bolivia by boat and that besides other Paraguayan ports on the western bank like Bahía Negra which did not have access to Bolivia, Porto Murtinho of Brazil on the eastern bank just up from Vallemí was the only Brazilian port from which we would be able to get a bus to Qujarro of Bolivia via Carumbá, Brazil. Now pretty satisfied that we had gone as far up the Rio Paraguay as we could and still be able to get to Bolivia we cooked up some dinner up the front of the boat and then gathered our stuff in preparation for our landing at Vallemí where the rest of the cargo would get off loaded.

36hrs and half an hour later

After having enjoy our last night on the Cacique II we woke to the last of the cargo being removed so it was time to go in search of a way to get to Brazil. The first mission was to find an exit stamp from Paraguay then we would see how we could get to Brazil. OK so the fun begins, we can only get the exit stamp from Isla Margarita hmm so where is that we thought and began to question anyone and everyone. The answer we started coming up with was that Isla Margarita was 70km up river but on the other side of the Rio Paraguay, which I couldn't understand because I thought we were on the western bank and Brazil was just a little further up on the other side of the river so I wasn't sure how another Paraguayan port could exist any further up on the western bank. No one in the port could explain this mystery to me so we went off to the police station to get some more info and they too couldn't help us with a stamp but helped explained our situation. We were in fact on the eastern bank, the same side as Brazil, which explained how Isla Margarita of Paraguay could be 70km up river on the other side as the western bank is Paraguay all the way up to Bolivia. The border with Brazil was just 7km up the road from Vallemí with Porto Murtinho of Brazil just 60km up from there, so we he had been informed that we should even be able to get there by dirt road. Ok so that was fine but we still needed the exit stamp from Isla Margarita so where was that relatie to Porto Murtinho of Brazil? The police man was also confused by this dilema so he went off to ask his 'jefe' or boss. Returning better informed he explained that Isla Margarita opposite Porto Mortinho so if we could get to Porto Mortinho by land we could easily cross the river to Isla Margarita get our exit stamps, return to Porto Murtinho of Brazil and finally continue on our journey over land through the Brazilian Panatanal. Phew so finally we knew where we were and what we need to do.

We now had 2 options, go over land on this side of the the Rio Paraguay to Porto Mortinho then do a return trip to Isla Margarita to get our exit stamps or, get a boat to Isla Margarita to get our exit stamps and then head for Porto Murtinho across the river by skiff. After some enquiry we discovered the former would take 1 to 2hrs and the later would take 7 to 10hrs, so it was a no brainer right? Wrong, to confuse matters there is a river coming from the east running along the southern border of Brazil, the Rio Apá, joining the Rio Paraguay just further up river from Vallemí thus making the overland option a little more complicated. In the end the trip over land turned out to be a roués, because firstly it could not be done by car as the road was apparently badly flooded and for the first part of the fact finding mission everyone was saying that the bridge over the Rio Apá had been washed away. Then there was the option of taking a moto (motorbike), now this was not going to be cheap but apparently it only took 1 and half hours and they could take the bike across the Rio Apá in a little boat so that would be fine. The moto was not an option for Andy and I thaough as we had our bicycles with us and the others were a little concerned about their safety on a dirt road on a motorbike designed for the road, with no helmet, and while carrying a heavy backpack for such a long time. So we decided to stick together started the search for a boat up river whichever side it was willing to take us to.

An Italian couple, Marco and Veronica had planned to do the trip from Asunción to Porto Murtinho from the start also decoding the Lonely Planned understanding that it was possible but it reading it again, reading between the lines, I think you are supposed to take the boat from Asunción that leaves on a Saturday to Bahía Negra and then ask to get off at Isla Margarita, do the formalities then continue across to Porto Mortinho. Anyway, so there were 7 of us stuck in Vallemí and fortunately Veronica and Marco were leading the negotiations between boats as they had been living in Buenos Aires for a while and know the continental lingo. It was by now already getting on for noon and so we had already given up any hope of catching the bus that day from Porto Murtinho but we hoped to be there at least by the next morning. Andy I had our bikes so we could always have cycled but we were unsure of the route and we didn't want to leave the others stranded not knowing if they would ever make it out of Vallemí so we decided to stay and see if we would have any luck with a boat. There were no regular cargo boats going that day and the next one was over 3 days away so we had to see if one of the local guys would take us. The prices started off very high, as high as $45 each in a small speed boat but we had only paid $18 for the boat that took 3 days to get us to where we were so we weren't going to pay that. The next option was the man fixing his boat but that was going to be almost $40 and although it was an option it was not yet fixed and we kept being told to come back in half an hour. We kept asking around with no luck but we always had the boat that was being fixed as a last resort so we just had to wait around and keep asking around at the port and the bank side where we were sitting under a tree.

While we sat there waiting patiently for our proverbial ship to come in, not really being able to go off and use the time constructively because we were still living in the hope that we were miraculously going to need to hop on a boat and head off, we saw a little green boat come in. As the little green boat got closer we saw it had a cargo full of meat rather brutally strewn across the boat and a donkey cart had backed up near it ready to pick up the load. I'm used to seeing meat transported in sterilised refrigerated trucks and usually in tasty cuts of meat or at very least bleed dry clean cuts of meat, not here no need for that all that admin. It looked like an animal had been killed, ripped apart and then just flung piece by piece into and onto this boat heads, hoofs, skins and all with blood dripping from everywhere including the men that were now off loading it. It made us quite ill just looking at it but it wasn't long before a local guy spotted this tasty cargo just fresh off the boat and rushed down to grab himself a head with tongue still hanging from its jaws with a healthy supply of blood dripping from it, stopping nearby to fill up with petrol leaving behind a pool of blood that no one at the station seemed too bothered by. Veronica continued all day trying different boats and kept checking with the boat being fixed but it was always going to be just another 30 minutes. Around lunch time Veronica received some relatively positive news that a public boat that runs up and down the river was on its way up, should be there at 3pm and would cost a fraction of what we had been quoted so we all gathered in the port with our hopes again on up high. Now all watching the horizon eagerly trying to spot the public boat time slowly slipped by until eventually by 4pm came and went so we gave up hope when more news came in, the public boat was at the port just down river and would be coming around the corner any minute, perhaps just half an hour more.

Eventually a boat did arrive but it wasn't the boat we were hoping for, it was the boat that goes up to Bahía Negra and was on its way back down to Asunción. I spotted some gringos on it and I felt like I should wave and scream don't get off you'll never leave here but even more so I wanted to know where they had bordered the boat, perhaps Porto Murtinho perhaps Bahía Negra but then how had they got to Bahía Negra in the first place?! There was a blond little boy and his friend selling pieces of bread on the port and we had gotten chatting to them, interestingly they could speak Guaraní and Spanish but were far more inquisitive about the world than their fellow village people who seemed to know nothing of the world beyond Vallemí. The blond spotted my Spanish English dictionary and started skimming it for English words to practice saying, the first one he picked was entertaining because as he said it everyone just looked at one another and said nothing. So the little boy tried again getting a similar response now looking at me with a very confused look on his face confused he said 'gatito?' ah yes baby cat hmmm we don't use the English world for that much any more. How he had randomly manage to select that word of all words in the dictionary I don't know but he accepted this explanation so now with us all in hysterics he continued on learning as many words in English beginning with 'P' as he could.

Having now spent an entire day sitting at the port in Vallemí finding the smallest things to entertain ourselves, Andy and I figured if there was nothing concrete on the cards soon we would go buy some food and then attempt to cycle there, staying the night in the bushes along the way. However, of course as Murphy would have it as soon as we started to make a move some news came in, the boat with the meat strewn all over it, now known as the donkey boat, could take us there for around $30 each, another red boat could take us at 2am for the same price and then a port official had taken pity on us and had told Veronica that we could spend the night at the port offices and then go with a friend of his at 6am the next morning also for $30 each. Ok so we had a place to sleep and we figured we'd take the 6am boat as it was offered by someone looking vaguely official.

Semi satisfied that we may actually get out of Vallemí within a week we could relax by the port offices which were actually quite pleasant as they had a bathroom with shower we could use, some pillars for us to hang our hammocks on and I could pitch my tent on the small patch of grass out front looking somewhat like a holiday resort when seen through the lens of a camera. Also while we were sitting there a Brazilian came and told us he had seen us waiting around and could get someone to drive down from Porto Mortinho the next morning to collect us because he believed that the road was fine and that the bridge had been fixed plus it would take 1 and a half hours only costing us $10 each. This was a very appealing offer but that would mean waiting until 9am the next day for this lift that may never come and then we would have missed the opportunity to take any of the boats so we thanked him and said we'd stick with the 6am boat. Another piece of info we had received while sitting there was that the offices in Isla Margarita where we were supposed to get our exit stamps would be closed on until Tuesday as Monday was a public holiday, but it was only Saturday and we could not wait so we just parked that in the back of our minds and decided we'd worry about that when we get there.

I had had an ok nights sleep in the tent while Will and Andy managed to get cold hanging in the hammocks swaying in the wind, quite a feat in these parts, given that one is normally lying in a pool of their own sweat even when lying directly under a fan. It was now just before 6am so we were eagerly awaiting the man that would finally get us the hell out of Vallemí. Just half an hour and he'd be there we were told and he was, then just half an hour and he would be done loading his boat and would come and talk to us and he did, he no was longer going up river instead he was now going to Asunción. Ok right no point in getting annoyed but either I was going to be heading off on one of the either other boats by 8am or Andy and I were going to get on our bikes and get the hell out of there. So, Marko and I headed off back to the bank where the donkey boat, red boat and expensive boat that was being fixed were docked but it was a Sunday and nobody was about so fine I thought this is small town someone must have the mobile numbers of their owner so I marched off to the only place open, the petrol station and asked after the boat owners. Apparently the owners did not live close by but apparently the donkey boat's owner was asleep in his donkey boat so off we went. As we approached the smell got stronger but nothing was putting me off getting to that boat and I could now see the owner sleeping on the floor, 'Señor, señor!' we called as we tried to wake him up, we want to go Isla Margarita would you please take us? The owner quickly hopped up saying 'si, en media hora si (yip in half an hour)'.

The Donkey Boat

After some faffing and calling of his boat mate we were ready to set off on the donkey boat called Alex. We were all so happy to finally be on our way that we had become somewhat hysterical laughing as the bikes were piled on top and we were shuffled onto the benches that had been cover in raw meat the previous day all ready for our 10hrs journey aboard the donkey boat. As the owner pulled the string a number of times to start the engine it seemed to chug for a bit then stop, then he tried again all the while putting his crack which was now proudly on display in Henry's face, but there was no dampening of anyone's spirits here especially when the engine roared into action raising cheers from some now very relieved gringos. After the excitement of having set off settled we realised we had 10hrs of sitting perched on a wooden bench with an engine running at full throttle just centimetres away so loud that no one could communicate. Although we did soon realise we could clamber up on top of the roof and out onto the front of the boat and then once everyone was strewn across the boat the owner indicated to Andy and I that there were 2 hammocks we could lower. Hanging in my hammock reading my book enjoying the the scenery as the banks began to draw closer and while starting to wind our way through the water lilies and side water ways I was quite chuffed that we were having a little adventure but secretly worrying about whether or not the Brazilians would let us in without a Paraguayan exit stamp. To kill a bit of time we played the most time consuming game in the world, Monopoly, using sign language but it was the card game version and unfortunately it didn't really take nearly take as long as the board game version so we were done in what felt like minutes, now isn't that ironic?

It was had now been almost 9 hours since we had left Vallemí and I was beginning to grow amazed that the noisy engine had made it this far when suddenly it began to below smoke form all sides. The skipper jumped to the back and cut the fuel which caused the boat to then slowly start floating back down the river. No one knew what to do, cry or laugh so we just laughed and then all admitted that we didn't really believe the that this little boat could even last as long as it had in the firsts place. The skipper jumped about a bit pouring oil in here and there making sure it was well lubricated and well cooled before for trying to start it up again. Everyone was almost beginning to enjoy a bit of relief from the constant thud of the engine when suddenly the engine roared back into action which signalled the end of the conversations that had started up, sending everyone back to what they had been doing.



Not too long after that we saw what looked like a port but no one dared suggest it was the one we were trying to get to, it was a bit earlier than had been said so we all just convinced ourselves that it could not possibly be the one we had so longed to get to because nothing in South America runs on time let a lone a head of time, surely the donkey boat wasn't going to be the first? But then as we pulled up to the shore it was confirmed, it was Isla Margarita then Marko and Veronica almost immediately hopped off running into the officials office to see if they could convince them to give us exit stamps from Paraguay before they closed but apparently the person in charge of that had gone off with the stamp on a 2 month holiday. No one seemed too phased about the need for an exit stamp and just directed us to head across to Brazil sans exit stamp. Ok so we convinced the skippers to take us across the river to Porto Murtinho, Brazil but they were a little nervous to do so as apparently they did not have permission so we had to pay them for the trip before we got there. As soon as we hit the opposite shore we had to jump off with all our belongings allowing them to flee back to Vallemí. Now in Porto Murtinho we felt quite sorry for a our skippers aboard the donkey boat as they would now have to return but this time through the night.



The port authorities in Porto Murtinho didn't seemed phased by the fact that we didn't have Paraguayan exit stamps either, in fact they didn't even have entry stamps for us and just told us to continue on and when we saw a federal police station we must ask them for an entry stamp. This explained why we came across so many South American travellers that didn't even hold passports! There we were running around like headless chickens trying to comply with all the legal requirements when the officials themselves didn't seem to care whether or not we had entry and exit stamps! We would spend the next few days making our way to Santa Cruz, Bolivia but for now we were just glad to be back on dry land even if it was full of people that I once again did not understand. Zzzzz this and zzz that, Portuguese, a very strange language especially when you can kind of understand it but now really.

All the pics can be seen here.

CYCLING: The hermanos return to Paraguay!

Km10184 to Km10198: Good-bye Amigo

It was a Sunday morning and as with most countries in South America everything had ground to a halt, even buses run far less regularly than on a Saturday to match the plummet in passenger demand. It was Mark's last day with us and we had spoken of having one last delicious pastry together at the local restaurant come bakery as we had been to when passing through Foz do Iguaçu a few days prior where we had already enjoyed great meals by weight and lemon pie to rival the best I have had anywhere in the world. Having packed Mark's bike up for the long bus trip back to Sao Paulo and then on to South Africa the bikes had to stay at the hostel while we went off to enjoy our last meal together. To add to the mood it was a sombre morning overcast and grey as we strolled up and over the tree lined hilly deserted streets of Foz hoping I read the sign correctly and that this would be the one unique business in town that was open on a Sunday.

We had originally planned to spend the morning viewing the Iguazu Falls but this time from the Brazilian side however all the guidebooks and pictures seemed to suggest that the views from Brazil could not beat those from Parque Nacional Iguazú in Argentina so we decided to leave it be. There was no point hacking all they way there to see the same thing we had seen the day before but only from a little further away just because that's what tourists do. So with cravings satisfied we had a little time to relax before Mark would be on his way back to Sao Paulo. Later that afternoon we walked Mark and his box full of bike to the local bus stop when suddenly the bus snuck up on us and we could barely get Mark, his box full of bike and his bags on fast enough before the bus raced off leaving us hardly any time to say god-bye; just a thanks for the best 10 months ever, see you in 6 weeks and a wave and that was it. My cycling amigo was now on a 15hr bus heading back in the direction of home, something we had spoken of but as a distant thought and now suddenly as if unprepared for, it was a reality. Thankfully though I had Andy with me now and we were preparing to set off on our own little 6 week adventure.

Now just the cycling hermanos (brothers) we needed to reshuffle our stuff to accommodate the few things Mark had left for us and then head back to the far cheaper yet more edgy Ciudad del Este, Paraguay. When we passed through Cuidad del Este a few days prior it had been complete chaos so I was now a little apprehensive about heading back there. It was overcast and a little cooler than usual so we decided to head off in the early afternoon even though we only had about 14km to go. When we arrived at immigration we were amazed that there were hardly any cars crossing into Ciudad del Este. We practically had the whole bridge to ourselves and when we got to the other side all the chaos we had experienced on the Thursday prior was gone. No one was haggling anyone and the streets had been cleaned, it was a Sunday and the carnival was going on in Rio de Janeiro so there was not a soul about.

We had decided to spend two nights there so that we could spend the next day exploring the electronics markets as I still had the $50 my parents had sent over so I was looking for something cool to spend it on. We found a nice little hotel, Santo Domngo, near the shopping area that had a crumbling sign just like in the movies but the room was great and breakfast was included so now satisfied we had a home for two nights we headed out for dinner. I had forgotten it was Valentine's Day so I was a bit confused when the restaurant we picked had had balloons and streamers everywhere, I first enquired with the waiter if there was a private function on that night and he said no so I was like then why all the balloons to which he just laughed and responded saying its 'El Dia de los Enamorados'! Only once we sat down and I saw the two chocolate on the table with the tag 'Feliz Dia de los Enamorados' or 'Happy day of the lovers' did I click that was Valentine's Day, so Andy and I enjoyed a very romantic dinner for two making sure to enjoy the free chocolates at the end.

The next day we went to explore the huge expanse of electronic stores where they had pretty much anything you were looking for with some of it looking more genuine than others. The one thing you could be sure of though is that you could bargain the price own on anything, nothing was priced and everything got quoted in US dollars so every transaction was pretty painful. I don't really like having to haggle down prices and we were carrying local currency which only complicated the calculations even further but I had spotted a pair of bluetooth wireless headphones which would bring to an end my woes of fighting with earphone cables on the bike and Andy had discovered he could buy a new microphone, LCD screen and Nokia tool set to fix his ailing phone at home so the haggling began. We went from store to store trying to get the prices down but by now it had started to rain heavily with the roads becoming rivers and roof edges dumping down bucket loads of water making getting about even that more challenging. I hadn't seen rain that heavy not even on the bikes, it was like the heavens had just opened making the roads impossible to cross without getting a shoe full of red muddy water. Although now drenched eventually we both got our stuff at great prices with me getting my headphones for slap on $50, now this may seem pricey for a set of headphones but they sounded great, worked seamlessly with my phone and appeared to be a good replica if not the originals of a pair of Nokia headphones that sell on-line for a minimum of $170. Andy managed to find all he was looking for for a out $20 so if he can now fix his phone using his purchases it'll be for a fraction of the $200 price tag Nokia has put on fixing it for him.

Km10198 to Km10252: The Guaraní family

The next day it was still pouring with rain and we would heading back towards the intersection where we had come from a few days prior where the road split left to Encarnación and carried on straight to Asunción. An intersection which we remembered as being covered in red sand thanks to a lot of heavy truck traffic coming on and off the roads and guessed now would be covered in red mud. There was a difference in level between the hard shoulder and the actual road so now with all the mud, as predicted, this change in level became very difficult to cross. Every time we wanted to avoid the bumps that had been placed on the hard shoulder to prevent trucks and taxis from using it as a second lane we had to go back up onto the road and round but now with it being muddy our tyres became very slippery making it very likely we could trip over on the change in level falling on to the highway. Having passed the busy split in the road our bikes were caked in mud and just as I was thinking to warn Andy about the slippery edge he moved onto the main rod to avoid a truck stopped on the hard shoulder and came crashing down into the road. Luckily he had checked for cars before going so none came when he was lying sprawled across the highway, seeing this chaos going on in front of me and I got quite fright resulting in me giving him quite a flee in the ear for not being more careful which he did not really seem to appreciate. Fortunately, Andy did not received much more from the fall than a graze on the knee, skewed handle bars that could easily be straightened and a very muddy pair of socks he had strapped to the back of his bike that morning to dry after so diligently having cleaned them the night before. Not long after the fall we found a nice little road side stall with some tables and chairs out of the rain where we could buy a drink and make our sandwiches allowing Andy to recover little more from the shock of his fall.

That evening we were just going to camp by a petrol station on the side of the road when we saw a road leading off to what looked like a few houses and fields which we hoped would be a bit quieter than next to the highway. While exploring the area we saw a lady in her garden and asked her if we could camp on the piece of ground across the way but she refused to talk to us and just ran inside to call her husband. Their property looked quite well kept with a beautiful green lawn, well kept flower beds and tidy little wooden home. The husband soon came out to chat to us and asked what we were looking for so we explained that all we needed was a little grass to set up our tents on for the night and we would be gone early in the morning. He wanted to invite us in to camp in their garden but his wife was not having any of it, he came out and said you could stay here but my wife is afraid but please do come in and have some tereré with me. I thought this a bit odd but we figured why not and went in for a drink.

Toni was his name and Spanish was actually his second language with Guaraní being his first. It was great getting to sit and chat to a local and get the low down on the social classes, immigrants and his impression of their national government. Toni's son about 10 yeas old was far more inquisitive than his mother and came out or a chat, he was attending a Spanish school but spoke Guaraní with his family at home. We notice quite a large number of German settlements or rather exclusive security colonies of German's so I was quite keen to know what this was all about. His impression was that they all came over from Germany after retirement with friends and builds big houses all together starting little German colonies installing large satalight dishes so that they could get German TV. Naturally he felt that they didn't want to integrate into society at all, they just kept to themselves. Personally I'm still not too sure what I think about this natural human trait we seem to have of grouping together with people we feel we can associate better with. Personally I enjoy exploring other cultures and love the variety of it but maybe that's not everyone's cup of tea. South Africa is a perfect example how separation can only deteriorate into hatred and misunderstanding of other cultures resulting in one culture or race oppressing or thinking they are more superior than another. Then on the other hand we can't go forcing people to hang out with different people against their will. I guess in a multicultural society like South Africa you can try prevent misunderstandings by educating and integrating children from a young age but when it comes to immigration I guess its a problem all countries around the world are grappling with.

Having now chatted for a while with Toni he was more than happy for us to stay but his wife still hadn't bothered to come out and meet us so he went in to tell her we would be camping on the lawn. But there was a compromise, and she had asked us if we minded leaving a passport with them for the night to give his wife piece of mind that we would not be running off with her flowers in the middle of the night. I thought it quite ridiculous but if I couldn't trust him with my passport why should he trust us sleeping on his property so I happily obliged and we went about setting up camp. They had a big Rottweiler chained to a tree which the let loose in the garden at night which I as a little concerned about at first but as it turned out the dog seemed to be more worried by us than we were by him. Every time I or Andy turned over in the night the dog got spooked and started another chorus of barking across the neighbourhood. The whole area just seemed to be on edge, I mean this family had a fence with barbed wire on top and a huge dog really seemed overkill to me given that some properties barely had a fence. Yet just about everyone had a dog that enjoyed barking so needless to say we did not get too much sleep that night, so I was the sun rose we were quite keen to just get my passport back and get going so that's exactly what we did.

Km10252 to Km10320: Things get tedious

Today the weather seemed to be drier but I think we were feeling a little drained from the lack of sleep and persistent heat. We were practically falling asleep on the bike and were ready for lunch when we started spotting public picnic areas on the side of the road however most of them seemed to be occupied and while I'm sure they wouldn't have minded us joining them I wasn't in the mood to rack my brain for Spanish words. Suddenly I spotted one unoccupied and it was perfect, it was under a nice big tree giving us plenty of shade and not only did it have benches for us to sit on (and lay on) but a nice big stump to cook our lunch on. Not long after lunch though we were accompanied by an elderly yet completely drunk man who I could barely understand, 2 things I did understand was the gesture to take a sip from his hip flask the other was the usual accompanied plea for money. Now while I was quit happy to give him some food and send him on his way I was not about to provide him with some cash to refill his whisky bottle no matter how much of it he was willing to share with us. I felt sorry for the old man but all I wanted to do was sleep and wasn't about to curl up and put my head on his lap so I was quite relieved when he finally decided to stroll off. We had a good sleep under that tree that day thankfully so as we wouldn't be getting much sleep that night either.

That evening we came across a petrol station with a lovely patch of grass alongside their outdoor restaurant where the chief attendant had invited us to sleep but mentioned that it may get noisy there so perhaps we should sleep on the floor in the workshop. As appealing as the the workshop floor sounded the grass looked good so off we went to set up our tent. Later we were invited back to use the shower round the back but the power didn't work so it would be cold and I would need my headlamp. I was dying for a shower now as we had cycled for 2 days in the heat without having showed or swam once so off I ran to investigate the shower. The door would barley open but then it wouldn't close further than it opened yet that was the least of my worries, someone had used the shower floor as a toilet and had left not only their excrement but also some toilet paper just finish it off nicely. I was trying not to throw up but I figured I'd step around it, block my nose, have quick shower and get the hell out of there. I think this qualified as my worse shower in South America while others had been colder and some had literally electrocuted me this one just made me feel dirtier than before I had gone in and that was quite a feat! Needless to say after relaying this spine chilling story Andy did not have a shower that night.

Although I was gagging from the memory of the smell I was clean and quite excited to hop into bed. I slept well until about 2am when a car pulled up next to our tents with 2 huge speaks hanging out the back, and I'm talking can't close the boot huge! This fool decided the petrol station outside of town was a cool place to show off his sound system to his friend and their girlfriends and they seemed impressed it. Now while a big fancy sound system could be considered cool by some this one was just so loud that if he drove past a saw mill people would stop and ask what was that so no one within a kilometre radius could hear themselves think let alone talk to anyone else, so this whole group all just stood outside the car staring at each other as snippet after snippet of bad cover versions spewed out of the car speakers. I tried to ignore it, estimating in my head how long a battery could last while turning out that many amps of sound but it lasted longer than any of my estimates so they must have kept the engine running. Andy opened his tent up and stared at them which probably just gave them even more pleasure and while I was tempted to get up and stick my bicycle pump through one of their speakers I chose the option that would not get me and my tent damaged and that was to dig my trusty earplugs out and go back to sleep, even if I was at risk of getting an ear infection after having cracked them open on the first night in Rio de Janeiro 10 months prior thanks to a snoring room mate.

Km10320 to Km10425: The perfect paradise

The next I was tired again and the landscape was pretty boring. We didn't find a very exciting lunch spot either so was beginning to feel like I had enough of this and wondered how I had ever got that far. About the most exciting thing I saw all day was the veterinaria (vet) and the carniceria (butcher) that shared the same premisses and the turn off to Nueva Londres (New London) which I was tempted to explore but by now we were just keen to get to Asunción. Then that afternoon we passed a sign saying we had entered the Cordillera (mountain range) province, hmm I thought to myself mountains I really don't want any mountains! But we were quite pleasantly surprised they were more like hills and provided for some of the most beautiful scenery I had seen in Paraguay yet.

We had not needed to cycle that far that day but were going to go as far as we could manage in a day as we just wanted to get to Asunicón however when we cycled up into a beautiful little village our plans rapidly changed. The traffic seemed to slow and the village reminded me of the villages in the lakes district in the UK, green, hilly, with little stone walls and beautiful old buildings. Andy and I both looked at each other and were like should we look for a hostel here? We both thought it had looked so cool that we were willing to stop early and spend a bit of time there. We both needed a good wash so we started asking around for hostels and were told there we only 2 hotels and no hostels in town and the one was just ahead on the left. We pulled up outside the hotel and saw sign above it pointing across the road saying balneario or bathing area . I could not see a balneario across the road so asked a man sitting at an outdoor bar nearby where this balneario was and he explained that the sign used to be on the other wall pointing down the hill. He said the balneario was beautiful and we could camp there if we wanted. Andy and I figured we only wanted to stay in a hotel to get clean but if we could stay at balneario that would cover the off so off we went to inspect our potential camping spot.

We bounced down the hill on a little cobblestone road eventually being surrounded by lush green bushes opening up onto a little wooden bridge crossing a beautiful little stream. The wooden bridge was a little precarious but seemed to be fine to cross so we crossed it trying not to get our tyres stuck between the struts. On the other side there was a magnificent soft white sandy beach. I could not believe my eyes, just hours before I was growing bored and weary but this brought it all back to me this is why we were travelling by bicycle and while it might take some time to get between places when you get there it is like you've arrived in heaven. We lent our bikes up again a tree, wiped off our kit and jumped into the stream it was as if we were petrified somebody was going to appear and just take it all away it was like it was just too good to be true! After a good swim and good wash we decided check out the town before returning setting up camp. In town we found a very cool bar on the street selling empanadas and beer, what more do you really need. It was just so special sitting there on the pavement watching life go by while answering all the questions of the inquisitive passers by, they couldn't work out what we were doing there but we couldn't work out why they lived so close to Asunción yet we were one of the few tourist they had ever seen.

That evening we returned to sleep on the beach next to the river making a camp fire just because we could, it just seemed wrong not to. The camp fire did not last long because it was already over 30 degrees without it and we wanted to go to bed early. No one ever did bother us that night and we never did work out what the name was of this mystery town was but what I do know is that my experience in Paraguay would never have been as rich had we not stumbled upon it.

Km10425 to Km10475: Municipal Beach on Lago Ypacarai

We left late the next day so that we could enjoy the morning bathing by the river but even then it did not take us long before we were close to Asunción. Just before leaving Ciudad del Este I had sent out a couple of CouchSurfing requests hoping to find a local to stay with in Aunción and a few days prior we had some luck and had received a response from one Sergio Ruíz. Sergio had mentioned that he did not live in Asunción centre but lived a in little town on its outskirts called Luque, however he was happy to have us and we were quite happy to stay with him for a couple of days especially since he mentioned that he worked in the centre so we could go into town with him anyway. Sergio was now only expecting us the next day so when we came over a hill and saw a huge lake in the distance we decided we would try stay there before progressing on the next day. Once we got to the bottom of the hill we came into a little town and we started asking around if there was anywhere we could camp, possibly even near a river.

We were directed to a place 5km off the main road, apparently it was free and had a place where we could swim so we decided to pursuit it. About 5km down the road in the direction they had sent us I could see a lake in the distance but felt we were now really going too far out of our way as for every kilometre we cycled down this road we would have to cycle back the next day. Soon I saw some men drink on the side of the road and asked them if they knew of this place and they all confirmed that it was coming up on the right. I did not want to go on another 20min to have to ask again so I asked them how long it would take in just about very mode of transport and they seemed to be able confirm by bike it was in fact only 5min away, so somewhat convinced we went on. Soon we came to a turn off that said Playa Municpal (Municipal Beach), wow I thought they were actually correct! We went in a low and behold there the lake was with another beautiful sandy beach. We were not supposed to camp there but the groundsman invited us to camp the night and he assured us it would be safe as he clears the place out and locks the gates not long after dark. I mean really a free camp site on the lake is fantastic but to have it all to ourselves was just too unbelievable.

We spotted that they had some water bikes so we just had to add them to our collection of cycling adventures. After playing on water bikes for a bit growing bored and tired very quickly it was dinner time and fortunately they had a little shop there so we could stock up on some essentials which at this stage included a 2l bottle of coke each. Not long after we had started preparing dinner some laddies came over to checkout what the gringos were up to. They were very friendly and took quite a liking to Andy begging him for a kiss then dragging him up for a photo shoot which just had me in stitches. They had him bending over and doing all sorts of things that made him blush quite profusely, this was all just too entertaining. Thankfully for him it wasn't long before they had to vacate the premisses along with the other visitors but first thing the next morning they were back, clearly Andy had made quite an impression!



Km10475 to Km10500: Lucky to be in Luque

Now being at the municipal beach at least 5km off the main highway we did not know where we were relative to Luque so had to ask around and got the perfect answer, no need to go back to the highway just continue straight on down the road and you will pass Areguá, which is mentioned in the guide books for its clay crafts, and then you will come to Luque. We were thrilled not only were we staying with a CouchSurfer but because he just happened to live in Luque we had already cut 5km off that day's cycle, it does not cease to amaze me how things just keep panning out. Now with plenty of time as we only had about 25km to cover and with Sergio only finishing work at around 6pm we woke up at our leisure and enjoy a good fry up on the beach before setting off. The back road to Luque was a quite unpleasant compared to the main highway into Asunción as it didn't have a hard shoulder however we weren't on it for long so it was fine. Luque is quite a nice little town only just isolated from the city by the enormous local sports and recreation grounds on the outskirts of Asunción. It also has the honour of being home to the Confedeation del Fútbal of SouthAmerica, which is quite significant on continent that prides itself so much on its football.

After cycling around Luque for a bit getting a good feel for it was time to finally meet Sergio at the Luque central church, a well kept and beautiful centre piece to the city. Sergio had a appropriately come to meet us on his bicycle. Now this was a first, most CouchSurfers come meet us in their car and then expect us to follow them back to their house 5km away going at 60km getting annoyed when we don't keep up after having already cycled 100km that day. Meeting Sergio was an absolute pleasure, he is so friendly and invited into his home as if it were ours. Segio lives with his incredibly kind Mom and ageing tiny dog, Vicky, in a very tidy home which has aptly had about 50% of it dedicated to the outdoor braai area. This region is on average hot and in summer sizzling with 40 degree temperatures and near swimming pool humidity. Having visited friends in Dallas, Texas over summer where the climate can be similar I became accustomed to their lifestyle and just figured that when you lived in a hot place you insulate the house and keep the air conditioning running 24/7 but nope not here in Paraguay. Even with 90% of their electricity being generated by pollution free hydroelectric plant this is not common practice. Yes they have air conditioners in their bedrooms but the rest of the house is designed to just let the airflow through and then most of the day is spent on your veranda, if you are lucky enough one, or more commonly the street corner where you enjoy sipping on ice cold tereré with your neighbours.

We spent the next few days exploring Luque and Asunción going into town with Sergio while he went to work teaching English at the American Institute of English. Asunción is a cool little city but as Segio describes it as not big enough to have everything but too big to be a village. I enjoyed the architecture and the craft shops selling tereré cups made from cow horns and hand made hammocks amongst other things. The other thing I really enjoy about this city is the little roadside empanada bars where you can just plonk down for five minutes on a bar stool and enjoy a cool drink and a couple of empanadas for next to nothing and then move on. There are also a few cool bars around as in any city with quite a thriving night life. The city itself is quite divided though with wealthy and poorer areas a bit like a little Johannesburg however I didn't ever see any of the poverty that you can see on the outskirts of Johannesburg. Sergio however did say that they exist, in fact somewhere between the river, the port and the presidential and parliamentary buildings of all places but I didn't ever see any of it any of it yet had been advised by many not to stroll anywhere up past the port, which itself was quite edge.

Next we needed to decide how we're going to get from Asunción up into Bolivia but we still had a few days to work that out while we just chilled sipping tereré with Sergio, his mom and the little dog called Vick in a the very chilled little town of Luque.

All the pics from Paraguay can be seen here.