The ultimate destination of our South American mini break was getting to another UNESCO World Heritage Site, Machu Picchu, in the Peru Andes mountains. First and foremost, we had to get to Peru which involved another long day of travel from Santiago. After a three-hour flight to Lima, a short stop-over in Jorge Chavez International Airport (where we tried not to inhale the distinctly fishy aroma emanating from the fish meal factories just outside the city), another 90-minute flight into the mountains, we arrived in Cusco, the gateway to the Inca Trail, and the start of our trek to Machu Picchu. After a bumpy approach and landing at Cusco airport, located in the middle of an unexpectedly large city, we were met by our local representative for a short drive to our hotel for the next two nights. Delayed by about 30 minutes as our driver tried in vain to retrieve the car keys he accidentally locked in the car, we eventually took a taxi to the beautiful Aranwa Boutique hotel, situated slap bag in the middle of the old town. At 3,399m above sea-level, the hotel even had oxygen-enriched rooms to prevent their guests suffering from altitude sickness. Having come from the below-average Ibis hotel in Santiago, the unexpected luxury of this hotel was more than welcome! Considering it is not very often we have the opportunity of staying in a high-end hotel, even the sight of a pure Peruvian chocolate on the bed after the staff have turned down the covers for the night was exciting! Having arrived and after dropping our bags, we immediately took a walk to the centre of the old town, and at dusk, the light was just right to get some amazing photos. The town is fabulously maintained, with all the old buildings pristinely preserved (putting Valparaiso to shame) and the square was teeming with tourists enjoying the evening out, but this part of Cusco probably only makes up 10% of the actual city, with buildings sprawling out in all directions onto the surrounding hills. Everyone warned us (including the travel doctor at the clinic where I got my yellow fever jab) about the altitude, especially when flying in from sea-level, but aside from feeling a bit breathless walking up a hill, we suffered no ill effects. Only my roll-on deodorant popped as a result of the changing air pressure (needless to say I didn’t have to worry about BO for the night considering the contents spewed all over me). Rob being ever keen to try out the local fare, quizzed our taxi driver on what is the best food to try, so dinner that night was alpaca! Considered a good source of protein and low in cholesterol, we were all for trying this, so dinner was alpaca steak and chips, while we had another local pipe instrument player providing the nightly entertainment. Today was also the day we met the rest of the Inca Legends (thanks Duncan for the fabulous title) joining us the on the trek and had a briefing with Adventure Dynamics director (and luckily for us, guide for the trek) Sean Disney. A bit of history, Rob and I met Sean when he took us up Kilimanjaro in 2013 (your can read about that adventure here) and it was good to catch up with him five years down the line. After an introduction all round, the group learned about our upcoming itinerary, received our welcome packs, and the all-important duffel bags we needed to pack with our equipment and clothes needed on the trail. The take-home message… pack light! After Kili, Rob and I expected the same size duffel bags (like 60-odd liter capacity), and having clothes for both Santiago and the trek, had packed accordingly. I kid you not, the duffel bags were so small, the sleeping bag took up more than half the space allowance. This could have easily started a mutiny but we all dubiously took our bags back to our rooms and packed the bare necessities. The item I was most upset about leaving behind… my pillow. Yes, I admit it, like a security blanket, my pillow travels with me (I HATE hotel pillows, and don’t get me started on the sheets).

The next day dawned bright and early at 06h00 (a welcome change after the 08h30 sunrises in Santiago) and after breakfast, we commenced the day tour of the Sacred Valley. The first stop was a small animal sanctuary, with Andean bears, alpacas, llamas, pumas and condors in residence after being rescued from the wild. We were told we may have the opportunity of seeing all these species on the actual trek but this was not to be. The most impressive were the condors, and although they won’t win any awards for their appearance, they definitely are top ranked for their size. With a 3m wingspan, the enclosure didn’t provide much opportunity to see them at flight, but one did take a chance, swooping down from the top of the enclosure straight over my head to land one meter behind me. Rob was unfortunately a bit delayed in getting the GoPro going so we missed getting footage of the flight. Next stop was the quaint town of Pisaq nestled in the Urubamba valley, with a drive through the village up the terraced mountain-side to our first set of Incan ruins. Almost the entire side of the mountain was terraced and used as farming grounds for the Inca city at the top, with the terraces preventing erosion thus preventing crop loss from landslides. The scenery across the gorge and of the surrounding valley was amazing, and although there were quite a few tourists, the one-way system allowed for everything to flow nicely and there were no “traffic jams”. Our guide Valerio (who accompanied the group for the entire trek) explained all about the Incan lifestyle, hierarchy of their society as well as gave some history of the civilization-ending Spanish invasion and ultimate conversion of the society to Catholicism. The day was a festival day, and all around were brightly coloured decorations and fireworks echoed like cannon-fire throughout the valley. Time for lunch, we stopped for a feast to satisfy even the largest appetites, enjoying alpaca carpaccio, alpaca stew and all things alpaca together with other more sedate options for the less adventurous eaters). A short drive took us to Ollantaytambo, a small Inca village set on the banks of the Urubamba river, with an Inca archeological site set on the hillside behind the town. Valerio took us around and pointed out various interesting facts, most of which I unfortunately can’t remember as most of the time I was looking around and not really listening (sorry Valerio!). One thing I do remember is the Sun Temple was perfectly placed to align with the Winter Solstice and the rising and setting of the winter sun. With plenty of stairs to climb, it was the warm-up to what the legends were facing in the coming days, and the terraces were a perfect opportunity to stop, admire the view and, more importantly, catch one’s breath, before heading up to the next level. The day took us all along the Urubamba river and from our tour bus, we could see that the towns were generally neat and well-kept, the brown mud-plastered houses a stark contrast to the brightly coloured cloth the Peruvians are famous for. We passed through a town renowned for another traditional Peruvian meal – guinea pig! Guinea pig statues and signs everywhere, you could easily mistake this as an animal worshipped and respected by the locals (like cows are in India) until you pass the restaurants with the open-air ovens roasting pigs on sticks! Two large pigs can apparently feed a family! It was also strange to see that the dogs run free, but all other animals are tethered, often noticing a young girl or boy walking their sheep, llama or alpaca through town on a lead, all in an effort for a photo opportunity and a couple of sols. Tired from our day out, we arrived back in Cusco at nightfall, and after dinner of an alpaca burger (I was alpaca’d out after this trip!), it was an early night in anticipation for the next day’s start of the Inca Trail.

Day 1: Prologue

The first day’s trekking first started with a few hours on our bums, first for the drive back to Ollantaytambo, and the start of the trail at the Km 82 landmark, and second, waiting on benches at the entry checkpoint because (yes I’m naming and shaming) Wendy and Peter forgot their passports. Thank goodness for local networks, phones, Whatsapp and whatever other technology was in place to get copies emailed through! Despite the slight delay, the group was cheerful, Sean was nonplussed (as he always is), spirits were high… and then the rain started. Our first group shot, a photo of us grimacing against the rain and icy wind gusting through the valley! Rain gear out (thank goodness this was in our backpacks, it wouldn’t have fit in our duffels anyway), and we were off! Day 1 was a flat introduction to the trek, with minor undulations in the terrain taking us along the river, passing various Inca ruins to our first camp. The first day’s walk was punctuated by short stops to allow porters and asses (both human and animal variety) to pass – apparently we weren’t walking fast enough – and gave our guide Valerio an opportunity to explain highlights of the region to us! He told us about a pretty flower, known to be hallucinogenic, which is often used by locals to provide cushioning for a pillow. Was seriously tempted to give this a try, considering my poor pillow had to be left behind!  The rain eventually cleared just before our lunch stop, and our afternoon walk brought us into camp at Wayllabamba, a breathtaking setting at 3000m above sea level, with our tents set up a slight incline, off the main path, in a valley surrounded by snow-capped peaks of the Andes. Day 1 was what I refer to the commercial part of the trek, as we passed multiple settlements, with local families having tuckshops where trekkers could buy water, soft drinks including the sickly-sweet Inca cola, and in some places, hard tack for those wanting a night cap. Although our team of porters set up a toilet tent, it was just for “number one” and anyone wanting more, had to pay one sol for access to a porcelain throne. After a tent wash with wet wipes and bowl of warm water, it was time for tea. Hot chocolate, crackers and popcorn was followed by dinner, where we were formally introduced to our team of porters (aka the heroes of the trip) who carried the majority of our gear, set up our lunch and nightly camps and kept us well fed and hydrated. A happy bunch, the porters smartly dressed in the tour company (Peru by Locals) fleece, and the chefs in chef whites and hats, each individual shyly stepped forward, introduced himself with his name and role, accompanied by loud applause for everything they did for us along the route. Santos, our chef, and his sous-chef spoiled us at meal time, the dining tent decked out with a long dining table, chairs, serviettes beautifully presented with hearty breakfasts, and lunches and dinners were often four courses, presented by Santos in the same way as a Michelin-starred chef, with a dessert included (by the way, did anyone lose weight because I sure didn’t!). The resident cat made itself comfortable on a few laps during dinner, but apparently didn’t quite take to Dave, clawing him in the process of trying to find a bed, making Dave (and the rest of us) jump up, with plates, cutlery and other table items going flying!

Day 2: Did someone say stairs?

Today, we reached our highest point of the trek at 4215m above sea-level to Dead Woman’s Pass. But I’m jumping the gun a bit here. The first night in camp was relatively comfortable (minus missing pillow), but slightly cold. The worst part is eventually warming up then realizing you need to take the midnight trip to the loo, and the resulting internal debate of “do you or don’t you”. I tell you it is not an easy decision, first to unzip a warm sleeping bag without the material getting caught, fumbling around trying to find the headtorch, putting on the required footwear, unzipping the tent without disturbing the bedmate (impossible), rezipping the tent to stop any nasties climbing into your sleeping bag in your absence, finding the toilet without tripping over your neighbours tent cables, and then repeating that process in reverse order to get back to bed. Our evening briefing of “be prepared for stairs” the night before was also not conducive to a good night’s sleep! Morning tent service of coca tea was our wake-up call, followed by breakfast after packing up and allowing the porters to break camp. The first hour’s walking continued to follow the river, then that dreaded right turn brought us to Peru’s version of the Stairmaster. Hour after hour (five to be exact) of stairs, stairs and more stairs constructed out of rock, designed to test the strongest thighs, our continuous slog punctuated by breaks to catch our breaths and appreciate just how high we had already climbed. Stunning views over extremely jagged mountains and valleys filled with jungle, rain-forest type vegetation greeted us at every turn, and looking down, you could see the snake of people trudging up the mountain. The last two hours before lunch were intense, with ears popping trying to equalize with the gains in altitude. I have to say I wasn’t very impressed upon the initial purchase of my Oboz boots, with a black toenail the result of wearing them in on the training hikes leading up to this trip, but I take back all the bad things I said about them, the boots proving their worth with a vice-like grip on the slippery rocks (I only slipped once the entire trip and that was only after we started our steep descent down to camp). The most humbling thing of the day (aside from the spectacular scenery) was watching the porters charge up the mountain path, with their sandaled feet, leathery and calloused, dirt embedded so deeply under their toenails, surefooted in their steps having completed this journey hundreds of times before, all while carrying 20kg on their backs. It was good to see their loads are regulated, with each pack weighed by the head porter at the start of each day, and each porter wore a brace to protect their backs. With chests heaving, and quads burning, it was up and over Dead Woman’s Pass (so named because the profile of the pass resembles a woman’s face and bosom – why dead I don’t know – maybe because both men and women are dead tired after the long uphill trek). Photos done, it was into cold weather gear as we commenced the knee-killing descent into rain and down to camp. The second night’s camp was at 3600m in altitude, cold and wet, but I doubt no one took much notice, too tired to care. However the location, and not the altitude, took our breaths away, with our tents set up to a backdrop of a high cascading waterfall, feeding the adjacent fast-flowing river, and a view of the mist-shrouded valley below. Dinner that night was slightly more subdued, but things perked up with the delivery of cake, baked by our fabulous chef, as congratulations for conquering the toughest, most demanding day of the trek!

Day 3: The Inca Flats

Day 3 was a day of endless ups and downs, narrow paths and sheer drops, mostly in mist and pouring rain. After a terrible night’s sleep, I woke up a bit shaky, but after a sustaining breakfast of eggs and strong Peruvian coffee, I felt ready to take on the day’s trekking, described by Valerio as “Inca flat” and “mostly downhill”. He did however forget to mention that the first hour of trekking was an almost vertical climb of stone steps up to some Inca ruins back up to 4000m, before the “mostly downhill” part of the walk, and that “Inca flat” is not flat at all. Hello lactic acid. Short sharp climbs were followed by treacherous descents down steep slippery stairs, some through Inca tunnels carved through the rock. While we gingerly made our way down the path, the porters were a sight to behold, descending in what could be characterized as a walk-run, stepping from rock to rock without losing their balance – so much more impressive than the freight-train impression I had of the Kili porters. Taken by surprise by a rain shower, the last 30 minutes of walking before the lunch stop resulted in most of us being soaked, and I only essentially started to dry off after the rain cleared and we started the afternoon leg. Dessert made up for the wet lunch tent, with the chef treating us to dessert of jelly (I can’t remember the last time I had jelly as Rob hates any kind of food that “wobbles” – read jelly, custard etc.). in general, we were so spoilt with food on this trip, and the porters enjoyed plenty of leftovers, maybe that’s where they got their energy to run and leap their way to each camp. Our path on Day 3 took us past plenty of Inca ruins, each one more impressive than the last, as we meandered our way to the last night’s campsite. Day 3 will also be the day remembered for being the day of mozzie bites – but in this case, it wasn’t mozzies that were biting, but some other Peruvian jungle monster bug that zapped me on my legs, and left huge red, oozing welts despite the use of insect repellent. After lunch, we were given the option of turning right or turning left at a junction in the path near the campsite – a right turn would take us directly to camp, a left would take us to camp via more Inca ruins. Knowing we were not likely to return to the area, Rob and I of course turned left, and have absolutely no regrets adding another hour to our walk. The jungle parted to a huge Inca ruin, Intipata, another area where the Incas carved out terraces in the mountain side, with a rainbow arcing over the ruins, snowcapped mountains surrounding us on all sides. We could see our night’s camp from the ruins, and as it was getting late in the day, we soaked up the view before heading down. Not the nicest of camps (the squat toilets are referenced in most literature relating to the Inca trail) with the result that camp permeated with the smells of bodily functions. But it was our last night on the trail, we got treated to yet another cake after dinner, and it was the night we got to thank the porters for all of their hard work in a tipping ceremony. Fayrouz was an absolute gem, being the spokeswoman of the group who, with the help of Valerio, thanked the team in Spanish, despite not speaking the language at all. An early night was required in preparation for the 03h20 start the following morning.

Day 4: Destination Machu Picchu

Day 4 was all about getting to what we all came to see… Machu Picchu. But before we got there, there was still a good couple of hours of trekking to do. 03h00 came with a quiet wake-up call from the porters, with the aim to get to the checkpoint before it opened at 05h30, in order to get to the Sun Gate at dawn to get some spectacular shots of the sunrise over Machu Picchu. Unfortunately, that was not to be, and as we got ourselves organized, that’s when the rain started… With the rain came with the decision to wait at camp for the checkpoint to open as there was no shelter at the checkpoint itself. So to keep as dry as possible, we ended up waiting for an hour and a half under the only shelter at camp – yup, you guessed it, next to the squat toilets and all their pleasant smells. Decked out in all our wet-weather gear, we set off at full pace, climbing steadily up, missing multiple lookouts, focusing all our energy purely on maintaining our footing on the slippery, narrow sections and sheer drops along the path. The path took us onwards and upwards, via a set of steep stairs called the “gringo killer” which was essentially ascended on hands and knees to prevent any accidents. Eventually, after a surprisingly quick walk (although it was probably over 2 hours) we made it to the Sun Gate, or on this particular date, the Gate of Wind and Rain, with the swirling cloud only allowing us occasional glimpses of the Incan mecca below us. We headed down, led by Valerio and Machu Picchu in all its glory eventually revealed itself to us from the guardhouse at the top of the complex. The citadel is smaller than expected but still magnificent, and an amazing feat of architectural design and engineering, with the accuracy of its construction as well as its placement so high up in the mountains blowing my mind. As we started our abbreviated tour (we were after all tired, wet, cold and hungry) we made our way through the various sections of the complex, the temples, the urban zones, the rock quarry and farming sectors and ultimately the exit! Rob and I decided to take advantage of our second entrance option, and as the clouds lifted, and the sun shone down, we could get that all-important selfie with Machu Picchu in the background to say we were there! The only negative aspect of the place is that being a popular tourist destination, the complex was overrun with people, with busloads being ferried up the mountain from Aguas Calientes town below. I got a bit annoyed after while as each time I just wanted to stop and take in the view, I was asked (sometimes very rudely) to get out of the way as I was always in someone’s photo. I even noted a couple of occasions where men stepped over the “no go” barrier to go behind a wall or rock for a pee – is there no respect for historical sites these days? After exiting Machu Picchu for the second and final time, Rob and I headed down to Aguas Calientes town and to our hotel for the night. After a well-deserved hot shower, we strolled around town and took in the sights before a team dinner that evening. At 2000m above sea level, we were still high but felt like we were at the beach with all the oxygen after Dead Woman’s Pass!

Our last day before starting the long journey back home to the various parts of the world we all came from was filled with getting the legends back to where we started from, Cusco. This involved a very scenic train ride from Aguas Calientes to Ollantaytambo, where we were introduced to the scariest Peruvian mountain lion I’ve ever seen, or more accurately, one of the crew members dressed in the gaudiest costume ever, mask on, blonde mane of hair flying everywhere, purring each time “it” came into contact with a guest – all part of the train entertainment while the rest of the crew modeled the clothes weaved from baby alpaca hair. A tourist trap if I ever did see one! Everyone was a bit weary upon our eventual arrival in Cusco, with most of us using the afternoon to relax, before enjoying a delicious dinner at a local restaurant before we parted ways the next day.

The trip is well worth it, and if you are prepared to rough it a bit, and are conditioned for stairs, I highly recommend the Inca Trail as a bucket-list item. At each turn you are greeted with a different site, be it mountains, valleys, waterfalls or rivers, and each section had distinctly different vegetation ranging from dry succulents to rainforest. The trail also had a distinct smell on it and it was hard to tell if this was the odour of unwashed selves and our fellow rancid trekkers, rotting vegetation or the smell of the passing porters munching coca leaves! Ultimately it was more about the journey, rather than the destination, with some strenuous trekking interspersed by amazing sights, breathtaking views and jaw-dropping scenery, all accompanied by good laughs and delicious food shared with new friends. Meal time conversation was almost always lively banter, topics ranging from celebrity gossip, murder mysteries and bathroom habits (yes Robyn, sometimes the number two can happen unintentionally when you are just planning on having a number one). Thank you Robyn and Pieter, Duncan, Dave, Fayrouz, Yanal, Wendy and Peter, and as always, Sean for a memorable trip. Sean, on a side note, your ever-present humour, calm demeanour and professional attitude makes any trip with the Adventure Dynamics team highly recommended and an experience of a lifetime. Thank you!

It’s amazing how the first words are always the most difficult. Since our last post in March 2016 (so long ago!) a lot has happened in the life of Rob and Kirsten. Two years later, we find ourselves with regular jobs again, living on the other side of the world in New Zealand (yes, we loved it so much in 2015 we decided to relocate and be responsible adults for a while) and working through the daily grind all in an effort to save for our next epic adventure.

It was one lazy Saturday morning that we stumbled across the opportunity for a trip we both have on our bucket lists – the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu. And when investigating flights, the only way from NZ was via Santiago and so set in motion our plans for a short South American holiday. Here is a taster of our experiences in Smoggy Santiago… the first stop on our adventure.

Months of planning brought us to 27 Apr 2018 when the day of our long flight to Santiago dawned. I had been up late the night before trying desperately to ensure all pertinent work emails had been answered, actioned or delegated in between packing for our trip. It was a relief to wake up on that Friday knowing that for two weeks I’ll be unreachable! After whiling away the day with mundane chores to pass the time (read – housecleaning), we made our way to the airport, high on anticipation. We had a long 12-hour flight ahead of us, but luckily, the aisle seat of our three-seat row was not allocated, and we could spread out and get some rest while we flew across the expanse of the Pacific Ocean we had sailed across only two years prior.

We flew LATAM for the first time and have to say I was mightily impressed – superb, modern aircraft and a delicious dinner of gnocchi, with cream, mushrooms and sundried tomato, followed by an amazing chocolate brownie and Chilean red wine. The red wine accompanied with a helpful sleeping tablet ensured a pretty decent night’s sleep! Our first sight of South America was at Concepcion, a port familiar to Rob in his days on the cargo ships, and most recently, the port team Scallywag made their way to following their loss of a crew member on Leg 7 of the Volvo Ocean Race that Rob and I have been following. A left turn saw us heading North for a bit, the majestic Andes rising up through the clouds on our right, as we descended to the sight of the dry, dusty desert landscape surrounding the mammoth city of Santiago. From the air it was clear (despite the smog) to see that Santiago is a city filled with people (apparently 40% of the population lives here) with the city sprawling in all directions in a central valley flanked by the Andes to the East, and the Coastal mountain ranges to the West.

After touchdown and an easy pass through Immigration, our bags were the first off the carousel and we located the Turbus into town. One word – TRAFFIC! And lots of it! After two hours in a bus with seriously dodgy suspension, we rode through dirty, crowded suburban streets to the Turbus central station, hoisted our bags onto our backs, and delved into the underworld of the city’s Metro system. Big, cumbersome bags on our backs during Friday evening peak hour Metro traffic wasn’t fun and resulted in perdón and disculpe (both mean sorry) and con permiso (with permission) being the first Spanish words out of my mouth in this foreign land, when we had to try and get out of the sardine can which was the train carriage. Luckily for us, our hotel wasn’t too far from a Metro stop and we settled into our room unscathed. The 13^th floor of the Ibis Santiago Providencia hotel was our home for the next 5 days – a lucky number for some, unlucky for others. I wasn’t too fussed, not being superstitious and all that, and had read previously it was actually recommended to have a room higher up due to the city noise at night, but as we found out later that night, a room on the 13^th floor doesn’t help with noise if you have a window that doesn’t shut completely, and the sound of bus airbrakes at 1am is surprisingly loud!

After a decent few hours of sleep we woke refreshed, but to pitch darkness (well as much darkness as a city of 7 million people would allow). Checking the time thinking jet lag was the culprit for this unexpected awakening, it was already 06h45 according to our watches. Out comes the phone for wifi to check the local time (just in case we buggered up when re-setting the time). Yup, 06h45, with sunrise only at 08h30! I can tell you this delay in sunrise compared to what we were used to threw us a bit, and towards the end of our stay, we were only waking up at about 08h00 which is unheard of for us. After a typical Spanish/Chilean breakfast of sweet pastry and coffee, we found our local supermarket for some refreshments (and deliciously fresh bread straight out of the oven), then we hit the Metro to the old city. With plenty of people around, some who were obviously tourists and some who were not, Rob was on high alert for scammers and pickpockets and I got a mouthful each time I lagged behind admiring some fabulous piece of old architecture. We got some pictures, but I can’t say the old city was very pretty. The buildings in the area are excellently maintained but with everything covered in a fine brown dust, it just looks dull. The river throwing through the central city was also filled with litter, and although the adjacent park was the only greenbelt in the city, it smelt of piss most of the time (not sure if the council used fertilizer or grey water to keep the grass green, which may have contributed to the smell!). The city parks were a popular place to spend the day it seemed, with gravel paths available for pedestrians, and cycle lanes teeming with bikes. With our meandering and dodging water puddles (the parks were constantly being watered), we also realized that the park was the place for the youngsters to demonstrate their love for one another, taking public displays of affection to another level, often stopping for a snog in the middle of the path, oblivious to the world around them, then carrying on with their stroll once their ardour was satisfied, at least temporarily.

With our earlier confusion with the time, we also came to note the city is filled with clocks of various shapes and sizes, but not one had the correct time anyway which gave new meaning to Chile time (in hindsight it would have been good to ask the locals of meetings/appointments etc. ever started on time given every single clock we saw had the wrong time). The most exciting thing of the day – riding the metro (on a Saturday, it was still surprisingly busy) but with far less crowds that the night before, Rob noticed that the wheels of the carriages were actually bus tyres following a track (like those old electronic go-kart toys) rather than train tracks one sees in Paris for example. The same afternoon, after our usual siesta, we took a stroll to the Costanera Center Torre 2 (also known as Gran Torre Santiago), the tallest building in Latin America, with 64 stories. After an earpopping, 40 second elevator ride, we arrived at level 62 for a bird’s eye view of the city in all directions, then headed one floor up to the open-air deck. With the smog, we could hardly make out the snow-capped Andes in the distance, but it was still great to get that perspective of the size of the city, something you don’t realize when on ground level. And of course, when in Rome do as the Romans, so the rest of our Saturday was spent dodging people in the 5 levels of the mall at the bottom of the tower as we familiarized ourselves with local fashion, culture and food (should I be surprised that the queue for the movie The Avengers, or whatever the latest sci-fi blockbuster is, was around the corner and out the door?). Walking back to the hotel, we stumbled across a street market, with the entire road closed off to traffic, with one end dedicated to a stage and mosh pit, a local rock band banging out the tunes while the more sedate punters were lounging at tables set up on the sidewalk, sipping sangria and enjoying the ambience.

Sunday saw us have an early start for an 08h15 pick up by tour company Turistik for a day trip to Vina del Mar and Valparaiso on the coast. A pleasant 1h30 drive out of Santiago took us through the first set of Coastal Ranges via a 5km tunnel into the Casablanca Valley, the most fertile part of the region fed by an underground river, with lots of wineries, and fruit and vegetable farms. A second tunnel, this one 3km saw us enter the hilly outskirts of the Valparaiso region, a place where window washers, street clowns and fire dancers abound at every traffic light and street corner. Our first stop, Vina del Mar, a place the brochures advertise as a quaint coastal “town” but is anything but… the sight of a huge metropolis greeted us as we made our way through the poor districts filling the slopes down to the apartment towers lining the seafront, with not an inch of free land available. With the day being cold and overcast, and outside of peak summer season, the place was still full of people and me being averse to crowds, I’d hate to see it at its busiest – I don’t imagine Vina del Mar would be the best place to escape the hustle and bustle of the city for a relaxing holiday! A quick stop at the picturesque flower clock (which surprisingly had the correct time!), the required selfie taken, it was back on the bus for a drive through the centre to Parque Quinta Vergara, a landscaped park with open-air stage although why we stopped here, I’m not sure as there wasn’t anything to see. Back on the bus, and to the beach, and our lunch stop. At 16,000 pesos (about NZD 35) per person, we opted to find something local instead, but with limited time, and being on foot, we were restricted to the beach front restaurants which were charging the same exorbitant prices. I won’t dare tell you where we dined *cough* pizza hut *cough*! Good enough to settle the tummy rumblings before we headed to Valparaiso, a World Heritage site.

A multitude of colourful houses dotted the mountainside as the bus struggled up the steep streets for us to start our walking tour, we could see why the area is a haven for artists, with colourful street art (read graffiti) adorning the majority of buildings and streets. Our guide even warned us not to take anything valuable with us, and to be on the lookout for pickpockets, and not to lose the group as we’d never find our way out of the rabbit’s warren of streets. Both Rob and I commented on the bus ride back that we were pleased to have taken the tour, as we wouldn’t have seen half the sights, or understood the history of the area if we had been independent tourists. Rob had visited the area previously on the cargo ships and made a remark about how the city has grown exponentially since he last visited. His memory… being in port offloading containers, with the Chilean armada doing drills nearby, firing live ammo into the water where the cargo ship was berthed.

Overall, we enjoyed the day out, and have a tick against another World Heritage Site that Rob and I have visited together. The city does have a kind of artistic charm to it, with a multitude of art, colourful facades of the houses, and a plethora of architectural styles to keep the eye entertained, but we didn’t know if we should be looking at the scenery or keeping our eyes to the floor to avoid standing in the multiple landmines of dog poo kindly left behind by the packs of street dogs roaming the alleyways. On that note, the street dogs were a common feature wherever we went. It was difficult to tell if the dogs were stray, or actually had owners who let them roam free, as most were in pretty good health, with very few mangy coats and visible ribs. They roamed in packs, playing and jostling as they followed us down the streets, or passed out on the sidewalks oblivious to the people walking past them. They are unbelievably street smart, even knowing when it was safe to cross super busy streets (would you believe me if I told you they even cross at the lights, not a stray – excuse the pun – jay-walker in sight). A couple of people in our group were afraid of them, and our guide said, “don’t worry about the street dogs, they are kind” and from our observations during our time in Chile, are an accepted part of society, with a good number of households leaving bowls of food and freshwater on the sidewalk for the dogs to enjoy. The few dogs we did see belonging to owners were dressed to the nines in their canine couture, decked out in their designer doggie jackets to protect them against the icy wind as they trotted haughtily along on their leads! We topped off our day with Chilean ice-cream after dinner when arriving back in the city, and although overwhelmed with the choices of flavor available, I can’t say the ice-cream provided the same gastronomic delights that comes with a mouthful of Italian gelato! Still to experience a traditional Chilean meal though…

Monday saw us searching for eggs for breakfast, something which seemed to be non-existent, so we settled for some continental grub of a fresh roll with ham and cheese, and a Nescafe from the local café as we waited for the fog to clear. A stroll along the river as the sun burnt off the fog (only to be replaced by the ever-present smog) took us to the Santiago Metropolitan Park, the largest urban park in Chile. We took the cable car up to San Cristobal, had a wander around the top skirting the crowds surrounding the Statue of the Virgin Mary and admired the view (or lack thereof). We had actually read that the pollution at times is considered worse than Beijing, and that the government recommended the population avoid outdoor exercise! For our part, the pollution had its effect with poor Rob suffering constant red and itchy eyes, and both of us coughing and sneezing our way around the city. The hill seems to be a mountain bike mecca, with cyclists slogging their way to the top, catching their breath and racing down the slopes to the bottom. We decided to take the more sedate route using the funicular down to the suburb of Bellavista and enjoyed the 45-degree descent down the hill (although the poor girl behind us couldn’t say the same, down on her bum, clutching the sides of the carriage with white knuckles petrified for the entire 2 minute thrill ride). Lunch was a tasty meal in the “el patio” area, a place of plenty restaurants, bars and mini boutique type cubicles selling jewelry, clothing and souvenirs. Our search for a traditional Chilean meal had us eating dinner in a local restaurant near our hotel, where we ordered a Chorrillana, a dish consisting of a plate of French fries, covered with especial (in our case, beef, chicken and sausage), topped by fried egg and caramelized onions. Washed down with a local beer, we enjoyed our dinner sitting at our street-side table where local musicians and singers provided some entertainment and touted the tables for tips before moving on to the next. Our entertainment ranged from a harmonica playing hippie to a pop-star wannabee with big boobs whose biggest talent was humming along to whatever was playing on her stereo while she kept her balance of the highest pair of stilettos I have ever seen!

Our last day in Santiago was 1 May and should have been our day to leave the city for our next adventure on the Inca Trail, but a lack of foresight saw us in the city for another day. A public holiday, the city was dead, with all restaurants and shops closed, and few people bar us wandering on the streets. On a positive note, this was the day we found eggs for breakfast! The one and only open restaurant was an American-style diner where I treated myself to a B.L.T with egg and Rob tried the scrambled egg mish-mash of whatever leftovers the “chef” found – suffice to say mine was the better of the two meals! Anyway, the day gave us a chance to get our laundry dry (having used the shower and a bucket to clean the smalls needed for our next leg) and pack and prepare for our travels to Peru the next day. When originally planning our South American trip, the main event was always going to be the Inca Trail, but we were still pleased to have visited Santiago, and definitely want to explore the rest of Chile, considering we only saw a miniscule amount of this 4000km plus long country.